#this happens a lot 😭 when i start to like it i start to slow down and obsess over details and all of a sudden i can’t progress | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

hey gurlll first thing first id like to say that im IN LOVE with ur fics. not to be dramatic but im seriously on my knees whenever u post bcs how do u write them so GOODD😭😭😭😭 so i have a request hehe🤭 u can totally ignore this. no pressure!

if u would consider this, hear me out. lando and reader are childhood best friends. they are like two peas in a pot but something made them fought (nothing specific, u can write anything!) that had them not talking for almost 6 months which never happens. since they have the same circle of friends, they got invited to a vacation in portugal. the tension between them is like WOW. then one night, when everyone was already asleep, they had another argument maybe make it like an angry confession that leads them to ANGSTY HOT LONGING YEARNING MINDBLOWING SEX but turns out it was one sided where reader kinda disappeared the next morning lol idk u can imagine the rest. OK THANKS LOVE YA💋

Not quite us | LN⁴

🛥 summary ──── A cold winter fight shatters their friendship, but it’s the heat of the Portuguese sun that brings them back together, months later.

🛥 pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem best friend!reader

🛥 rating ──── explicit

🛥 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, angst and emotional tension, arguments, swearing, jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, manhandling, passive-aggressive behavior, pining, emotional miscommunication, past relationship dynamics.

🛥 word count ──── 8.6k

🛥 date ──── Apr. 23, 2025

🛥 a/n ──── Wrote this one straight off the vibes, just went with the flow and let the request guide me here and there. Sometimes the chaos cooks itself, so I hope you guys enjoy it either way ♥︎

IT’S NEW YEAR’S, and Lando would have a lot more fun if he stopped looking across the room every twenty seconds. But he can’t help himself. If someone looked at him right now, it would be so easy to read it in his body language: he is exasperated, beyond frustrated, and maybe a little drunk. His fingers encircle his glass so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, and his jaw clenches every time he sees the way she flinches when her boyfriend talks back to her.

Suddenly, the music gets too loud, the champagne is too warm, and even if he’s trying his damn hardest to pretend otherwise, his night is completely ruined.

She’s sitting on the edge of a sectional couch with her phone clutched in one hand, refusing to look up at her man, her face carefully blank in a way that screams something is wrong. All it takes is a blink of an eye and he walks towards the exit, visibly annoyed, leaving her behind.

Lando frowns while taking another sip of his drink, forcing a smile as one of his friends says something he doesn’t quite register. Still, he nods along anyway. But all he can think about is her. The girl he’s known since he was seven years old. The one who always matched his chaotic energy. The only one who managed to beat him at Mario Kart and made fun of his haircuts and once almost peed herself laughing during a round of mini golf when they were thirteen.

His best friend.

Or at least, she used to be.

It has been different for a while. They only see each other at events now, like birthday parties and New Year’s gatherings. It sucks, but it’s better than not seeing her at all.

It started shifting the day she met her boyfriend — some guy from uni, older than her, quieter, a bit too polished for Lando’s liking. She said he made her feel seen. Lando didn’t say anything then, just nodded, smiled and pretended he wasn’t dying a little inside.

He told himself he was just being protective, but truth is, he never liked the guy. Something about him felt off, and Lando noticed it in the way he was too controlling and dismissive at times. But Lando had no proof, therefore, no real reason to speak up. So, he stayed quiet. Let the distance grow. Let the invites slow. Let her disappear into another life that didn’t include him the way it used to.

There are a few minutes left until midnight, and he’s still watching her. She smoothes her dress with the palm of her hand, breathes slowly a few times, then gets up from the couch, apologizing with a small smile every time she bumps into other people in her path. Then, she disappears down the hallway, shoulders hunched, phone still in her hand. Her head is down, like she’s trying to avoid any potential encounter. At that sight, something in Lando twists and, for a moment, he thinks she’s going after her boyfriend, his body instinctively tensing. But he relaxes when he realizes she’s just turned right instead, stepping out onto the balcony.

Without thinking, he sets his empty glass down and slips away from the crowd, past the streamers and glitter and flickering lights, heading in the same direction she went. It doesn’t surprise him when he finds her deep in thought, typing on her phone then shoving it angrily into her purse.

Her back is facing him, arms folded over the railing now, the cold air nipping at her exposed shoulders. She must be freezing, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s also not turning when she hears more steps, then the door closing.

She lets out a breath, but it’s not relief. More like she’s trying not to cry. “Hey, Lan.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him. They’ve spent so much time in each other’s company that she’s memorized his footsteps, the sound of his sigh and the hesitation in his voice before he speaks whenever he’s unsure of his words.

Lando pauses a few feet behind her, careful, like he’s afraid she’ll shatter if he’s too loud. “You alright?”

Without waiting for her to answer, Lando just shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders from behind. The girl stiffens for a second, then lets his scent settle around her like a familiar comfort.

She knows things that no one knows about him, like the way his laugh changes depending on who he’s with, but the real one, the high-pitched one that sounds like a hyena giving birth, only comes out when he’s with his friends. She can tell when he’s nervous just by the way he starts tapping his fingers against his thigh. She knows he prefers sleeping with the fan on, even during the winter, that he can’t eat spicy food without tearing up, and that he pretends to like certain people just to keep the peace.

Her best friend.

Or at least, he used to be.

“He left,” she finally says, her voice just a whisper.

Lando moves to stand beside her, copying her posture. “What happened?”

“He said he was going home, but I don’t know.”

He blinks, confused. “Midnight’s in, like… five minutes?”

She shrugs, wiping under her eye with a knuckle, trying to be discreet. “Yeah, well. Apparently I was laughing too loud and drinking too much and fooling around. I was embarrassing him. So he left.”

Lando stares at her, stunned. “It’s a party. What the fuck is he expecting you to do? Sit quietly in the corner and sip water?”

Her laugh is short and sad around the edges, “No, but I know he doesn’t like it when I’m loud or hyper or… whatever.”

There’s a long pause in which she reconsiders her behavior, thinking that maybe her boyfriend is right. Meanwhile, Lando tries to find the right words to counter every single lie that asshole has fed her, the annoyance flooding back in. He turns his head to look at her, and her profile knocks the wind out of him. Her eyes are wet and tired, like she’s trying to hold herself together for longer than just tonight.

“Don’t listen to him,” says Lando quietly, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers, “I love your loud laugh.”

She looks over at him then, a warm wave of safety covering her from head to toe, despite the cold that feels like it cuts across the skin of her face. The words settle heavy between them: I love your laugh. Not ‘it’s nice’. Not ‘it suits you’. I love it. It means more than he probably meant it to. Or maybe it means exactly what he’s never had the guts to say out loud. Until now.

Lando swallows before continuing, “I don’t get it,” he says, “You should be with someone who wants to hear you, no matter how loud or hyper you are. Who knows how lucky they are to be in your presence.” She laughs, as if dismissing his words, but Lando insists, “I’m serious. I still don’t understand why you’re with him.”

The girl lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “He wasn’t always like this.”

“I know.”

Lando’s answer sounds a little too sarcastic and, in response, the silence stretches between them once again. But it’s not empty this time. It’s charged. Heavy with everything they’ve never talked about, and all the months they spent apart.

She turns her eyes back to the view, but her fingers tug his jacket tighter around her body. And then, without looking at him, she speaks again, “No, you don’t. We didn’t talk much lately, so you wouldn’t know.”

Lando wastes no time, “And whose fault is it?”

She shifts her body towards him abruptly, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a question.”

“Right,” she nods once. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about it. I guess I just… needed my friend for a minute.”

Lando nods too, and steps close enough that their arms brush. Before she can say anything else, he leans in, uncertain but determined, and wraps his arms around her. Her cheek presses against his shoulder, seeking his comfort. The only problem is that there’s nothing casual about how Lando’s heart starts to race. His arms come around her tightly, holding her like his life depends on it, even though she’s the one that’s been ditched by her boyfriend on New Year’s.

They stay like that for a while, their breaths fogging between them in the cold night air. The space they share gets warmer, which makes her snuggle into his chest. She smells like citrus and champagne and every memory he’s ever tried not to think about too hard when he was missing her.

The girl pulls back slightly, enough that her face is tilted up toward his. And when he reaches to cup her cheek, her skin is smooth beneath his palm, her lips slightly parted like she might say something, but doesn’t. They just stare at each other, the same way you only look at someone when you’ve missed them for too long, and you’re finally close enough to touch but terrified to move any further, thinking that maybe they’re not even real.

The countdown begins in the background, a little muffled through the glass door, people shouting numbers like a slow drumbeat from the inside.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

“Break up with him,” Lando’s voice cuts through the haze, rougher than he intended.

One.

The cheers erupt from every direction. The sky bursts into a sea of light above them, fireworks flaring gold, silver, and pink. The noise is distant, like it’s happening on another planet. They wouldn’t know, because they don’t even look. Instead, her eyes are still searching his, confused and a little broken.

He could lean in and take it all, just this once, and blame it on the alcohol.

But she blinks, breaking the ephemeral magic of the moment. She takes a step back, then another, slow and cautious, until she’s out of his arms. “What?”

Lando doesn’t move. “You deserve better.”

“Lando…”

“No,” he shakes his head. “He treats you like shit,” his voice rises gradually, dipped in more emotion than he probably wants to show, “And I don’t know what’s worse: that you know it or that you allow it.”

She looks at him as if Lando is shapeshifting right before her eyes, and he does it far too quickly for her to have time to process.

“Stop assuming things about me,” she warns, all the warmth between them dissolving in an instant. “You don’t know.”

“I know he should’ve been here, kissing you right now. I know he made you cry instead,” he says, stepping forward, closing the distance that she put between them earlier. “I know he left you at a party alone because you were laughing too loud,” he continues, mockingly. “Do you hear how fucking ridiculous that sounds?”

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You don’t know the full story, Lando. He asked me to go home with him, but—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts her. “Looks like he ditches you whenever you’re too much for him. And I can bet this isn’t the first time he’s made you cry, is it?”

She scoffs, “Oh, so now you’re paying attention?” she asks, adopting a defensive attitude. “It’s been months since you’ve shown any interest in me.”

Lando flinches like she just slapped him. “You’re the one who stopped showing up. It’s cause you’ve gotten busier. With him, eh?”

“Smooth, Lando,” she fires back in a disappointed voice. “You pulled away first,” she reminds him, pointing a finger at his chest; tears threaten her eyes again, but she blinks rapidly to clear them away.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know where I fit anymore,” he says, his voice cracking around the edge of frustration. “You were always with him. Always defending him. I didn’t want to be that friend who hovered too close or some asshole that oversteps your boundaries. Because, believe me, I was so close to cross a lot of those before deciding to back the fuck up.”

She stares at him, incredulous, as if all the months they have been apart have completely changed her childhood best friend. “So, instead of talking to me, you just ghosted me? Very mature.”

Lando’s jaw tightens before replying, “I needed space.”

“You disappeared,” she corrects him. “You didn’t just take space. You shut me out.”

“That was me respecting your sorry ass relationship.”

“No,” she laughs dryly. “You were trying to make a point.”

Maybe, Lando thinks, looking away. But that’s not the whole truth. It’s painful, not to mention frustrating, to watch someone you care about being treated badly. It may have been selfish on his part, but Lando couldn’t stand by and watch the girl who deserved it all get only a piece of it.

“You don’t like him,” she continues, voice quieter now. “I get that. But instead of saying it, you just judged me from a distance.”

“No, I don’t like him,” he admits. “Matter of fact, I despise the guy. But not just because of who he is. It’s because he changes you.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not true.”

Lando laughs, but he’s not amused in the slighlest. “You went from having fun to crying in a matter of minutes. Because of him. How many times has this happened before?”

“He never—” she tries to warn him, before Lando cuts her off again.

“Keep defending him,” he says, irritated. “Because God forbid someone call you out when you’re being steamrolled by someone who doesn’t see your worth.”

“And God forbid you admit that maybe you’re not always right!” she snaps. “You don’t get to parachute in and act like some moral compass. If that’s the case, where the hell have you been all this time?”

The question silences them both. He can’t say too much without saying it all, and she’s waiting for something that won’t get to her. Not yet.

Disappointed, hurt, and extremely tired, she shrugs his jacket off and throws it at his chest. “Happy fucking New Year.”

𝟳 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥

📍 Somewhere off the Algarve coast, Portugal

AFTER THE HECTIC life she’s lived in the past few months, a weeklong yacht trip along the Portuguese coast is all she needs. Blue water, rosé on deck, and most importantly, no drama.

She says yes before she even checks the guest list, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Everybody in their group knows about the social distancing between her and Lando. Plus, she always checks his calendar, keeping an eye out for the weekends he’s away, racing, meaning she can tag along without stressing that they’re going to bump into each other.

Of course, she still watches his races. Just because they stop talking that doesn’t mean she stopped caring about the dream that Lando has been striving for since childhood. That’s also why she knows that Lando will be in the UK for at least another week, as he mentioned in the post-race interview, which won’t interfere with their little getaway.

By Friday, however, things change drastically. It’s only when she’s already halfway to the marina — after spending the entire afternoon shopping with the girls — that Max texts her.

BTW, just so you’re not surprised… Lando is flying in tonight. I know things aren’t great between you two right now, but he’s still my friend as much as you are, and I didn’t wanna lie or make it weird :D

You okay?

For a moment, everything seems to slow down, including her heartbeat. All the sounds that surrounds her fade into the background, while she tries to steady herself against the sudden rush of emotions.

Is she okay? Well, for the most part yes. But that’s because she haven’t seen Lando in months. There are many ways she can react when they’ll finally be face to face again, and she can’t decide which is worse. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter, because she simply doesn’t have the time to analyze every scenario.

I’ll survive, she texts back.

She will.

She has to.

It gets dark pretty late, but the night is warm, balmy with salt and wine in the air. They decorated the boat’s upper deck with a string of lanterns, their golden glow flickering against the white hull, gently illuminating the space. The music thumps lazily from a speaker somewhere, low enough not to overwhelm the sea’s waves but steady enough to pulse through bare feet on smooth wood.

Someone’s uncorking another bottle of vinho verde, and a few of the girls are still in their swimsuits, legs tucked beneath oversized linen shirts as they lounge across sun-warmed cushions.

She’s also barefoot, her skin kissed pink from the day, a loose skirt swaying at her thighs as she spins around one of the support poles, smiling wide; she decided, hours ago, that she won’t let anything ruin her vacation. It’s the first time in months she’s felt this light, and has no intention to let the feeling be washed away by the waves of a past so distant.

Only when she realizes that she is, in fact, invincible and that nothing can shake her confidence, she hears a familiar laugh, the same one she’ll recognize anywhere. But she doesn’t turn to it immediately. Instead, her body stiffens as fast as if it’s controlled by a remote.

He’s here and, suddenly, the breeze curling in from the sea feels somehow cooler. It’s just a voice, but it’s his, and it sounds so melodic in her ears, even after all this time.

When she finally turns around, all the noise dials down.

Lando’s standing on the deck like he’s never been gone, a duffel thrown over one shoulder, his curls slightly damp from the flight or the heat or the mist. He’s in a loose, black tank top and shorts, his sneakers untied like he didn’t even bother to fix them. He’s already smiling when he sees Max coming to greet him with a drink in hand, sliding easily into hugs and handshakes. Everything is so normal that she almost rushes to the stairs to jump into his arms.

As if he hears her thinking about him, Lando looks up and their eyes catch mid-movement.

The music doesn’t stop. No one freezes. The conversation continues. And yet something just between them shifts, making Lando still for a moment. His smile falters slightly. The duffel slides off his shoulder and drops at his feet. His gaze lingers longer than it should, because he seems genuinely surprised, like he hadn’t expected her to look the way she does — lighter, freer, happier than the last time he saw her.

Like a low-budget movie, they just look at each other for a while and then, barely perceptible, Lando nods once. It is a subtle, tired gesture. Not warm, but not hostile either. More like: I see you. I’ll behave.

And she nods back: I see you too. I’ll try.

That’s all that it is. A small breath of peace in the warzone. Because they both know that this vacation isn’t about them. There are too many people they both love here, too many memories tied up in this group to be so selfish as to ruin everyone’s fun.

With that, Lando disappears below deck with a few of the guys, and the party continues as if nothing happened.

SOMEHOW, THEY’VE MANAGED.

It’s the last night on the boat together, and not once have they really spoken. Just kept on with the civil nods and carefully timed appearances. She took the mornings on the upper deck with a book and her sunglasses pulled low, while he suck to afternoons with Max and Keegan, sunbathing and pretending not to look over when she passed by.

Every time they went out for dinner, they sat at opposite ends of the table, pretending to be invested in conversations that barely held their attention.

When they went to explore the nearby cliffs and hidden beaches, they naturally split into smaller groups, Lando ending up with the boys, as usual, taking the off-road buggy trails that wind through dusty hills, while she tagged along with a few of the girls. They didn’t walk near each other. Didn’t even end up in the same group photo.

But the glances were a constant, and all of them have carried them both here, almost at the end.

There’s a bizzare quiet in the air tonight, the kind that only the sea can create — so deep, violent, and alive at the same time.

After soaking in her own heat for hours, she decides to step out of her cabin for a breath of fresh air.

They’ve ordered seafood for dinner, and her relationship with it is not exactly good. A small breeze brushes across her face, lifting her hair slightly, carrying with it the clean scent of salt. The boat rocks gently beneath her, and the stars above are strewn carelessly across the sky like spilled sugar.

The second she steps into the dark of the corridor and turns toward the small galley, her heart skips a beat. For good reason. Lando’s already there, barefoot and shirtless and deep in thought in the low light, leaning against the railing like he belongs in the night. One of his hands is resting on the cool metal, while the other is wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.

His head turns when he hears her cat-like steps, eyes catching hers in the dark.

The only sounds are the gentle hush of the waves against the hull, and the occasional creak of the boat. Neither of them says anything, as if they don’t even know how to speak to each other after throwing cutting words at each other, all those months ago. The silence between them doesn’t make them feel awkward. Maybe just a little guarded. However, it’s very depressing, really, not having anything to say to the person who once knew absolutely everything about you.

It would be very easy for her to turn on her heels and walk back into her cabin, avoiding Lando, just like she has done all these days. But then she hears his whispered voice, and his mellow intonation is enough to make the entire planet stop from spinning.

“Everything okay?”

She swallows, caught in the stillness of the night as if she’s a thief. “Yeah,” she whispers back, even though it sounds more like a question than an answer. “Felt a bit sick.”

He nods slowly. “The shrimp?”

“The fucking shrimp,” she agrees.

Lando shrugs. “Ew.”

His reaction triggers a wave of warmth that washes over her, forcing a smile while thinking about the past. The memory flashes rudely uninvited. Still, she weclomes it with nothing but nostalgia in her heart. They were eight, crammed into a bed on a family vacation, and she’d eaten her weight in shrimp and clams at dinner, proudly declaring herself a seafood queen. Hours later, she threw it all up, right there, in bed, all over him. Lando woke up screaming, drenched in the smell of stomach acid, fish and betrayal and, ever since, he couldn’t even stand near a fish without gagging.

Cautious, she edges forward, bracing her arms on the railing only a couple feet apart from him, eyes fixed on the black stretch of sea. The moon paints a silver path across the water, waves shifting like oil under its light. For a few minutes, they just stand there like two ghosts, side by side, watching the view, but probably stuck in different memories.

“So, I’ll go back inside,” she says a little unsure.

His voice cuts through the quiet, “Stay,” says Lando without hesitation.

It’s not just the gentle plea that catches her off guard, but the way he says it. Like he means it more than he means anything else right now. Possibly more than he meant anything else ever.

Awkwardly, she moves forward, letting herself lean closer to him. That’s how she finds out that physical distance means absolutely nothing when it’s the emotional distance that kept them apart. More than that, there are many things left unsaid that fill that void.

Out of sheer curiosity — or plain stupidity, she’s not sure yet — the girl begins to walk uncertainly towards the edge of the space that separates them.

“You remember New Year’s?” she asks, the words coming out softer than she expects.

There is no trace of hatred or resentment behind her voice, which surprises her. She understands that she has, without realizing it, moved beyond their most tensed moment so far. And all that’s left now, besides her curiosity, is the fact that no matter how much time has passed, the two of them still know each other on a level they haven’t reached with anyone else.

Lando doesn’t look at her, but his jaw flexes. “Hard to forget.”

“I threw your jacket at you,” she continues with a small laugh.

“And stormed off like you were in a romcom.”

“To be fair, you were being a dick.”

He chuckles then, and the sound is gentle yet painfully nostalgic. “I probably was.”

“You talked like you knew everything. It was…” she hesitates, fingers tightening slightly on the rail, “A bit cruel. Even if it came from a good place.”

Lado nods. “I know,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know how to talk without sounding like some immature tantrum just because I was missing my friend.”

She glances at him then, studying the curve of his profile in the moonlight. The familiar slope of his perfect sculpted nose. The way his curls fall just a little longer then she remembered. The way he speaks but seems so deeply forgotten in the memory of that winter night.

“I broke up with him the next day,” she admits.

He turns, his eyes searching for hers. “Yeah,” says Lando, “I figured.”

Even though she tries her best, she can’t read his demeanor. He seems tense, even though their conversation isn’t hostile in any way. Not yet, at least. Still, Lando looks as if he’s bracing for some sort of impact that she’s not aware of. There something softer in his expression, though. Something hesitant that encourages her to keep him in that memory.

“I think about it sometimes,” she continues. “That night. All of it.”

He nods again. “Me too. ”

She looks over, eyes wide and cautious, but Lando doesn’t look away.

“But,” he continues, “I won’t apologize for what I said. Because I wasn’t wrong. You do deserve better. And maybe I had no right to say it the way I did, but I’d rather have fought with you than keep watchig you shrink yourself for someone who didn’t even appreciate you.”

His words hit like the waves, tightening her throat. “I get that. But in the moment, it made me feel…” she begins, eyes filling up with tears, “Like you stopped respecting me because of him. And I felt stupid for being so blinded that I lost sight of all the things that were the most important to me.”

The way Lando looks at her now makes her heart sink. Not with pity. Not even with regret. Just a dull ache, like he’s been carrying it with him for months, and he’s too tired to hold it tightly anymore.

“Come on, you know that’s not true,” he says. “I was just irritated and drunk. Watching you disappear like that wasn’t easy, and I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding like a selfish prick. I should’ve just said something,” adds Lando. “Instead of sulking and keeping score and acting like you betrayed me for living your life,” he looks away then, back to the endless sea, eyes half-lidded like the movement of the waves might offer him something easier to face. Anything but this.

He had time to think and weigh his actions. But it all came down to those last few minutes, when it suddenly became too much for both of them.

“I missed you, Lando,” she confesses after a while, letting the words out in a small voice.

The silence that follows is no longer heavy with avoidance, but an intimate warmth that somehow infiltrates under her skin. It merges with all the sadness caused by the time they spent apart and, together, they create a new kind of feeling that she doesn’t yet know how to name. And, for some reason, she’s in no hurry to do so.

Uncertain yet courageous after hearing her admission, Lando’s hand finds hers along the railing and, to his surprise, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she threads her fingers through his, like she was already waiting for it. For him.

It’s weird, she thinks, how their hands fit together like the end of a sentence that finally makes sense. So she keeps it there, feeling his pulse in her palm like it’s the most normal thing in the world. They can’t look at each other, though. And suddenly, the waves are so much more interesting than the mess they’ve created, their soft undulation bewitching them both, mirroring their feelings in a sick, twisted way; tamed at the surface, yet storming somewhere deeper.

In the chaos of her mind, she can feel the gentle way his thumb brushes the side of her hand. The way he squeezes her afterwards. Like a promise. And she knows, without either of them saying it, that this was always going to happen. That they are inevitable, like gravity pulling them toward the center of each other.

“Are we gonna go back to being cold in the morning?” he finds the strength to ask, voice barely above the hush of the tide.

Truth is, she doesn’t even know what the next few minutes will bring, let alone the next morning.

The girl turns her head slightly, her cheek pressing to his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know how to be your friend nowadays,” she admits, not to make him feel bad, but because that’s the only thing she’s sure of. Her truth.

Lando sighs, “Yeah, that’s not quite us anymore, hm?”

It takes another crushing silence before Lando turns to her completely. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter they can’t be friends anymore, because they’re way past that. Lando is way past that. All he wants is one chance to show her how much it means to him; every word, every touch and every single thought that’s been haunting him for days on end.

He looks like he’s on autopilot when he brings his other hand up to brush her jaw. After his movement, she takes the next step and leans into his touch. She opens her mouth, maybe to say his name, but the words don’t get the chance to get out, because Lando grabs her firmly and pulls her toward him. Hard. Like he can’t take the distance anymore.

His mouth crashes into hers without any warning. It isn’t careful. It isn’t sweet. It’s the result of months of silence, of aching, of watching and wanting and never having. It’s teeth clashing, breath catching, fingers curling so hard into skin that it’ll leave marks.

She gasps into his mouth, as if the ground is crumbling beneath her feet, but at the same time, it’s the most exciting feeling she’s ever felt. Her arms are instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer like she’s been just as consumed by what they didn’t say. Lando fists a hand in her hair, the other gripping her waist tight enough to bruise. He’s all fire, hot and desperate, and there’s not enough water that surrounds them to cool what’s raging in his chest.

He gives her the kind of kiss that says I missed you too and I’m sorry and I never stopped thinking of you all at once. Her hand constricts around his bicep, grounding herself in the feel of him: his salty lips and the way he exhales with a relieved sigh like she’s air after being underwater for far too long. It’s impossible not to feel how much he needed this, because there’s nothing left unsaid in the way he holds her. The truth — his truth — was always there, waiting for the moment they’d both be brave enough to let in.

The kiss deepens before either of them realizes what’s happening. And it’s her who leans in a bit further. That brings him back to the present moment, not because she is just as desperate, but because of how much she means it. How much she wants this. It’s right there, in the way her mouth moves over his, open and urgent, like a need that’s been burning for too long. It makes Lando groan silently when her teeth graze his bottom lip, her tongue flicking against his like a dare. A dare that he answers to, meeting her halfway, teasing, then licking into her mouth with a skilled confidence that makes her head spin.

Oh, he’s a good kisser.

Dizzy from the sudden intensity, she clings to his neck, tilting her head as he takes control, his hands finding their way back to her waist after roaming up and down her body, guiding her back a few steps until her spine presses lightly to the railing. The breeze kisses across her bare legs, her thin nightdress doing nothing to hide the way her body shivers. Or how hard he gets against her. She feels it instantly, like a sharp contrast between his swim trunks and her body, and it sends a jolt of heat right between her thighs.

Her breath hitches once they stop, glancing up at him, caught between amusement and want. “What are you so excited for?”

Lando meets her gaze with an innocent grin twitching at his lips as he shrugs, “Sorry.”

She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation she finds herself in. Loud. The kind of laugh that throws her head back a little and makes her cover her mouth when she realizes its heat.

Lando just watches her, enchanted by her mere existence. And, without thinking twice, he asks, “How can anyone be embarrassed by that laugh?”

The sudden comment silences both of them. Lando, because he just heard himself saying it out loud. And her, because of how sincere he sounds. How tender.

Still grinning, he lets his forehead fall against hers. They may never encounter such a moment of peace again, so neither of them hesitates to take it where it’s supposed to go to: her tiny cabin. The narrow door clicks shut behind them, and the space is barely big enough for one person, let alone the two of them tangled in something so close it’s hard to tell where tension ends and need begins.

She backs into the bed, and Lando follows, eyes fixed to her like she’s the only girl ever. When they finally collapse onto the mattress, it creaks under their weight. Their knees bump. Shoulders brush. Lando’s arm wraps around her waist in an instant, and she fits there like it’s hers. That grip. Him.

Somehow, he’s bigger than she remembers. Or maybe she’s just never noticed how broad his chest is, how his legs stretch past the foot of her bed, how small her frame feels when she pulls him into her. And now, in the closeness of their embrace, it’s impossible not to feel it.

It intimidates her, but she keeps her hands all over him, warm skin meeting her palms. Her eyes roam without shame, wandering from his abdomen up to his pecs and then stop on his freshly kissed lips. Her fingers trail along his arms, feeling the strength carved into muscle by years of racing and tension. She watches the way goosebumps rise under her touch, and when her hand flattens over his chest, just above his heart, Lando exhales heavily, with a slight shudder.

He doesn’t look away, though. He doesn’t have the heart or enough willpower. He simply looks back at her, eyes burning, as if seeing her underneath him like this is the only normal thing in their messed up lifes.

“I need to know where’s your head at,” he says, his long fingers brushing the outside of her thigh.

She closes her eyes for a moment. Mostly because she finds it hard to pay attention when her childhood friend — the skinny little boy who used to be blown away by the slightest breeze — is now on top of her in the flesh, displaying groups of muscles she’s never seen on his body before, let alone touched.

Her hand stays on his chest, “Am I ever going to get my best friend back?”

His hearts breaks a little, because he realizes that both of them know the implications of her question. The answer, too, but she still wants to hear him saying it, because that’s the only thing that’ll make it true.

Lando’s eyes search hers for a moment too long, and something in him rearrange, the muscle in his jaw tightening before he leans in. “No,” he simply replies.

She figured. Still, it is not necessarily the answer itself that makes her emotional, but the way Lando said it, as if it is torture for him to even admit it.

“I can’t ruin myself over and over again, pretending that what I feel for you is small. It never was.”

She nods, lifting her hand to the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him down until their lips are barely brushing. Lando’s hands are pulling at her, slowly sliding the straps of her dress down. He takes his time, undressing her like he’s unwrapping a present he’s waited far too long to touch. And when she’s standing there, bare and warm and only for him to see, he sits back to stare and take as many mental pictures as he can.

“You’re…” he starts, voice nearly breaking, “So fucking beautiful.”

She presses closer, hands moving to his shorts with urgency. Lando lets her, barely breathing and, when the last layer falls away, she looks down at him. All of him. His golden skin that glows in the dim light filtering through the porthole, muscles tightening under her hungry touch.

Impatient, his hand slides between her legs while maintaining eye contact, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin at her inner thigh before he presses just lightly against her entrance. The reaction is immediate, a sharp breath followed by a soft whimper that catches in her throat. Her hips instinctively lift toward him, and his own breath wavers at the sound.

“So wet,” he breaks off, almost spiraling from the realization, from finding out just how much she wants him. Just like he wants her.

For a moment, there’s something feral in his gaze, something that won’t let her move her eyes. Like he’s balancing on a tightrope of restraint, and she’s the drop waiting to pull him under.

“It kills me,” he admits. Then he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, “But you need to be quiet, darling.”

She nods, her breath still uneven, knowing it’s going to be anything but easy.

Lando presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone before he continues, “Even though I love it when you’re loud, you’ll have to save that for later.”

Just the thought of her, waiting for his next move all warm and wanting, has his cock already pulsing in his palm. He strokes himself slowly, gaze locked on her as she shifts beneath him, spreading wider with a shaky inhale.

As curious as ever, she glances down between them, eyes filled with want, and he watches her bite her lower lip at the sight of him, so hard and ready. The gap between them closes quickly, suspended in that final moment before everything changes. Her fingers curl into the sheets, watching Lando lining himself up, just barely brushing against her clit. Then, he pushes in with a whimper that sounds like it’s been clawing at his throat for months. Like this moment has been sitting just under his skin, waiting to become real.

“Fuck,” he pants, silently. “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Right now, all her senses are inhibited by him. The weight, the stretch, the warmth, the way his hands frame her hips like she’s the only thing keeping him in check, and she’s the only reason why Lando isn’t unleashing hell yet. Her legs wrap around his waist, holding him close, as if her body already knows what her heart won’t let her say.

Lando. Lando. Lando!

But he shakes his head, his voice going lower than normal, “No, baby, Let me.”

The bed is laughably small, making Lando huff out a frustrated breath, one arm sliding under her thigh as he shifts them both, gripping her firmly to guide her where he needs her. It’s not graceful in any way, but there’s something about the way he manhandles her, lifting, adjusting, controlling the angle until it’s perfect, that makes her head fall back with a gasp.

He exhales through his nose, lips pressing in a thin line to avoid making sounds that could get them both into trouble. “There. That’s it.”

She lets him move her, pliant and trusting, her breath getting heavier when their skin brushes in all the right places. Every thrust is slow at first, drawing soft moans from her mouth that only make him harder. The way her body reacts only fuels him, encouraged by the way her lashes flutter, and the way her hands slide into his hair when she can’t find the words. She couldn’t say it anyway. Can’t give voice to what’s blooming and breaking inside her.

But Lando feels it in the way she moves with him, and how her body opens like it was always meant to. That pushes him to thrust harder, feeling like the entire boat shakes at the force.

“Easy. You’re gonna break the bed,” she says against his jaw, her voice a breathy laugh.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve broken over you,” he mutters back, but there’s no malice in his tone, except a dangerous affection that’s always lived under his skin when it came to her.

It makes her curious to know what he means, but just as she’s about to ask, Lando finds that angle where their bodies align like puzzle pieces that should’ve never fit but somehow do. He rocks into her so sweetly, and that’s enough to silence her. The answer is in the way her breath stutters. The way her fingers grip his arms. The way her body pulls him in and clenches around his length like it’s never known anything else.

“Shit. Again, please,” Lando breathes wetly against her skin. “Do that again,” he repeats, already buried to the hilt, grinding against that perfect spot inside her, that once he found it, it’s impossible to stop. “Mhm. Let me make it right.”

“You said you can’t,” she challanges him, barely able to speak. “So stop taking your sweet time, Norris,” she pants, breathless but defiant, smirking even as her thighs tremble around his hips.

Lando lifts his head, curls damp against his forehead, eyes dark with a sudden annoyance. “Yeah? That’s how he’s had you all this time? Quick, in and out, job done?”

Her smirk drops into a scoff, her hands pressing against his chest like she might shove him off. But she arches into him instead, loving the way her back rubs against the mattress with each push.

“If anything, he had the balls to be honest with me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he thrusts deeper, making her gasp mid-retort. “Stop defending him, will ya?”

The sheets are already half off the bed, twisted and forgotten, heat pulsing like a heartbeat between them. Lando starts moving inside her with a relentless rhythm, as if trying to erase anyone who came before him with every shove. But she won’t give him the silence he craves.

Not anymore.

Her head tilts back, sweat glistening at her collarbone, but her eyes are sharp, ready to catch his reaction. “No wonder you drive like that. Always trying to prove you’re better than the last guy, aren’t you?”

His hips slam forward, hard enough to make her gasp again, fingers bruising against her waist. “That’s rich coming from the girl who settled for someone who didn’t even know how to fuck her, let alone treat her right.”

She bites her lip, not in surrender but to hide the moan that slips out anyway. Her nails dig into his back, dragging down like a punishment until he grunts. “You’re such a coward,” she snaps. “At least he didn’t treat every conversation like a race he had to win.”

All of a sudden, Lando slows his movements, grinding deep, making her eyes roll before he fucks back into her harder than before. Only to make a point. Only to see all the places he takes her to.

“‘Cause he had the habit of abandoning before it even started, isn’t it? How many times did you have to fake it?”

Her eyes snap to his, speechless, but Lando doesn’t blink. He grins at her, knowing he is waiting for an answer he’ll never get.

She kisses him then, hard and angry, pouring all the emotions she never thought Lando, of all people, would ever awaken in her. Then she pushes him, her legs squeezing around his waist, her action emphasizing the duality of the thoughts going through her mind.

“Just so we’re clear. You’re not the first to try and fuck me into forgetting,” she finally replies.

At that, Lando stops for a breath, not from exhaustion but from the way her words claw straight through his big ego. He slams into her again, smiling at her, hand catching her thigh to spread her wider. “But I’m the one who’s going to succeed.”

She’s so close, he can feel it in the way her body aches to keep his cock inside and how her insults start to blend with moans. What amazes him, though, is the strength she has to continue their little argument, as if they’re not in the middle of something else right now.

“Never thought you could be such an asshole, it’s unbelievable.”

Lando doesn’t even blink when he speaks again, “He made you cry on New Year’s,” he growls, voice sharp, like a blade slipping between her ribs. “And I’m the asshole?”

Before she can throw a retort back, he tilts his hips, changing the angle, and drives into her so sudden that it knocks the breath from her lungs. Her back arches, while her hips are lifting to meet every punishing thrust.

“Lando,” she moans his name, arms winding around his shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life.

She can feel him in places she didn’t even know could feel. He’s fucking her with such intensity it turns into a blur of slick skin and strangled whimpers, the bed creaking beneath them.

The banter dies somewhere along the way, and all that’s left behind is the heat, the pounding rhythm, the kind of pleasure that makes thoughts disappear and stars dance behind their eyes. Her brows are scrunched, eyes glazed, and she realizes she’s about to scream. Actually scream.

Luckily, Lando places a hand over her mouth just in time, muffling the broken sounds pouring out of her throat. It takes her by surprise, realizing how well he knows all her signals without ever telling him. But it’s easy for him. Especially when he sees the way her body’s trembling under his weight, and the way her eyes plead and challenge all at once.

He nods, hips pistoning into her, watching her come apart beneath him, a quiet, shaking mess.

“Yeah,” he grunts as quiet as possible through gritted teeth, “That’s it. Just me now.”

The words hang in the sweat-soaked air as she comes around his length, clenching so tight it nearly takes him with her. Lando doesn’t stop moving. Instead, he talks her through it, his voice breathless against her ear.

“That’s my girl, let it all out. So fucking perfect.”

Her nails sink further into his back, riding the aftershocks with his cock still buried deep, stretching her in all the ways she was craving. It brings him right on the edge, and with a frustrated cry, Lando pulls out, the head of his cock flushed and swollen as it rests hot and heavy against her thigh. He lets himself go at the sight, thick ropes spilling messily onto her skin. Sticky. Warm. Heavenly.

“Lan,” she breathes, half a protest, half a moan, reaching up to drag him back on top of her.

Lando can’t resist the pull. Not when her touch unravels him with every glide of her fingers over his skin. He used to dream of it, but the reality is always better. He kisses her again, softer this time, letting the moment stretch before his hand finds the curve of her breast, fingers teasing with just enough pressure to make her arch against him. Patiently, his thumb sweeps over her nipple, circling, pressing, feeling it harden under his touch.

It makes her whimper, her hands fisting in his hair. Lando’s lips find the column of her throat then, biting gently just beneath her jaw. Her sounds light him up like the fireworks they didn’t witness that night. He trails his kisses down to her collarbone, one palm flattening over her stomach before traveling back up.

Somehow, the chaos has slowed, but the heat is still there.

Their bodies are tangled in ways that no one could tell where she starts and where he ends, the mess between them so satisfying. When their eyes meet again, he sees her flushed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and her chest heaving. Her eyes are so vulnerable as she looks back at him — her Lando, stripped down and completely wrecked.

And without a single word, he slides back in.

No sharp words, no angry breathing. Just the sound of their pants, the wet glide of his cock moving inside her, the weight of emotion that neither of them dares to name. Every thrust is unhurried this time around, his sweaty forehead resting against hers, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of her walls fluttering around him, the way her thighs lock around his waist with each roll of his hips.

It’s not just sex anymore. Is so much more than that, something that will linger for a quite some time after they part tonight. And they both know it.

When the pressure builds again, it’s different. There’s less fire. More ache. She blinks up at him, and her lips tremble. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes, not from physical pain, but from the overwhelming closeness of it all.

Lando sees it, and kisses them away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

And when he comes again, it’s with a quiet groan right against her lips, buried deep as her body pulls him in, taking every drop of his pleasure and keeping him as if he belongs to her from now on. All of it. All of him.

The silence that surrounds them afterwards feels too full. She lets him stay there, wrapped around her, her fingers idly tracing his back. But her gaze is distant, fixed on the ceiling, already somewhere else.

For now, at least, they can coexist in the same world, breathing each other in until the reality will catch them from behind.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow morning.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

1K notes · View notes

sunsburns · 4 months ago

Note

Hey girl I have a request. I think Clark is into body worship, both receiving and giving but I feel he’d be so cute being in the receiving end. He’s Superman, he gets praise all the time and takes it in stride, but when it comes to you? Oh he gets shy, his cheeks are pink, he stutters a bit. When you tell him how big he is, there’s always a “…you think so?” “I’m not that big…”. His eyes are glazed when you start kissing and groping him everywhere appreciatively. Clark becomes bashful and flustered because all the praise coming from YOU just hits different. Can you please add onto this 😭😭😭

oh, you are absolutely cooking here. clark being shy and flustered when he’s on the receiving end of body worship? that’s a full-course meal. (18+) ᢉ𐭩

it starts with something small. maybe an offhand compliment while he's getting dressed—your eyes lingering just a second too long, watching how his muscles shift under his skin, the sheer width of him, the way his broad shoulders slope into a tapered waist, strong arms straining slightly as he buttons up his shirt.

“you’re so big.”

three words, simple, but they wreck him.

his hands falter, button slipping from his fingers, and his head turns towards you, brows pinched in disbelief, a soft, breathy laugh escaping him like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“…you think so?”

he’s genuinely unsure. as if he hasn’t had people across the globe marvel at him, as if he isn’t literally superhuman in strength, in stature, in presence. but this—you looking at him like that, eyes dark and full of appreciation, tracing every inch of him with slow, lingering touches—this is different.

“clark, baby,” you hum, stepping in closer, letting your hands drag up his chest, feeling the solid weight of him under your palms. you look up at him, “you’re huge.”

his throat bobs, adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. his skin burns under your touch, warmth radiating from him like a furnace.

“i’m not that big…” he tries, voice going a little weak when your fingers curl around his biceps, giving them an appreciative squeeze.

you just smile, letting your hands wander, mapping the planes of his body like you have all the time in the world. “mm, you are. so big. so strong. so perfect.”

and that’s when it happens—his ears go pink first, then his cheeks, and then that soft, bashful smile creeps onto his face, the kind that makes his dimples show. he can’t handle it. his hands come up like he’s going to stop you, but they just hover, unsure—because does he really want you to stop?

“you—” his voice catches, and he lets out another laugh, this time breathier, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. like he can’t believe he gets you.

but you’re not done. no, now that you see how he’s unravelling, you want more. you press your lips to his collarbone, slow and reverent, and he melts. his body twitches under your mouth, his breath coming out uneven as your kisses trail lower, over his chest, down the ridges of his abs, your hands following close behind, smoothing over every dip, every curve of muscle.

and clark—sweet, sweet clark—is squirming.

“baby,” he breathes, voice cracking just a little as he watches you kneel before him, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. “you don’t have to—”

“but i want to.” you cut him off, lips ghosting over the center of his stomach, feeling how his muscles flex beneath your mouth. you move lower, pressing your cheek against his crotch. you basically nuzzle against his boner, tracing the shape of it with your lips, mouthing it, kissing it over his clothes.

“you’re so beautiful, clark. so handsome. so perfect.”

his whole face is red now, a helpless, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, completely overwhelmed. his body can handle a lot, but this?

“okay, but make it quick.”

1K notes · View notes

haniette · 7 days ago

Text

untouchable. // ln4

pairing l lando norris x fem!reader

genre | smut, angst, college au, enemies to ???

word count l 8.2k

warnings | no use of y/n, fratboy!lando, smut (18+) minors dni. (dom!lando, sub!reader, fingering, bathroom (mirror) sex, p in v, dirty talk, voyeurism, heavy degradation kink, semi-public sex, hair pulling, some cum play) possessive!lando, kinda mean!lando :(, pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling), kissing/hot makeout scenes, lots of tention, cursing.

(losely) inspired by: madison beer — make you mine, nessa barret — pornstar

summary: everyone called you the untouchable girl—too pretty, too bitchy, and too far out of reach. Lando didn’t believe in the rumors, didn’t want to believe it. so he set out to prove them wrong, and he did. just not in the way anyone would have expected.

a/n: omg.. it was my first time writing smut, and y’all.. i hope it’s okay 😭 also big shoutout to @norristrii for believing in me and making me finally post it, love you babsie 🧡 anyways, tell me if you’d like a part two or smth hehe~ hope you’ll enjoy !! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡

You weren’t trying to make an entrance. Not really. It just kind of happened.

The sky was clear, the air cool enough for your coat to feel just the right amount of heavy on your shoulders, but warm enough that your legs, exposed in your perfect-fitting skirt, could still breathe.

First day of the semester—new campus, new faces. New everything.

You stepped out of the car and the world felt like it tilted for a second. Not because you looked back or hesitated, you didn’t. Every step you took was measured, as if you were walking a runway no one could see but you. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement was hypnotic, like a warning before the storm.

Your skirt was hugging your hips just right, and your sunglasses hiding half your face but none of your expression—bored. Distant, yet still slightly amused. You didn’t smile, not even once but still, heads turned.

And when you reached the entrance of the college campus, it felt like the world held its breath. You weren’t in a hurry, you never were.

But the moment you walked through those gates, everything slowed.

There was a murmur. A ripple, like a stone dropped in a quiet pond. A girl laughed too loudly. A guy stumbled over his words. A group near the steps whispered and turned their heads, eyes widening, mouths barely moving.

You didn’t even look around to see who was watching. You already knew everyone was.

Every gaze on you was slipping under your skin like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You were used to the attention, and the looks that never quite left you alone. But here, in this sea of strangers, it felt… different. Bigger, more intense.

Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Boys straightened up, and girls narrowed their eyes. They didn’t know your name yet but it didn’t matter. You walked across campus like it belonged to you—like they belonged to you—and everyone felt it.

You knew you were pretty. But there was something else about you, something more. A quiet confidence that was too much for them to just ignore.

After three days, they already knew your name. And after a week, they were saying it like it’s a dare.

Some claimed you transferred from a different elite private college in England, and others suspected that it had to be from another country. Rumors swirled like smoke, impossible to catch. Maybe your dad was loaded? Maybe you were a model? Or maybe you had a scandal back at your old school?

No one really knew the truth, and you never bothered correcting them. Instead, you walked into the class and sat alone—always early, always in the same spot, always with that faint scent of expensive perfume, and that don’t-talk-to-me aura.

By a week or two, the more complicated stories had already started. You didn’t give anyone much to go on—you were polite, sure, but still unbothered.

Untouchable.

You sat at the front in every class, never late, always alert. Answered questions with a sharp tongue and a smoother voice.

The girls—they hated you on principle. Even the ones who wanted to like you, felt the heat of their own insecurity rise the longer you were near them. You weren’t loud, weren’t fake-nice. You didn’t beg for approval. You just existed—and that’s the part that stung the most.

You didn’t ask anyone to notice you, you just made it impossible not to.

They saw their boyfriends look at you a little too long, and observed how their exes stalked your socials and liked old pictures. You wore confidence like lingerie under every outfit—hidden, but felt.

And so they whispered.

“She’s such a bitch.”

“She thinks she’s above everyone.”

“Has she even spoken to anyone?”

“I bet she hasn't even given head to anyone in her life.”

“Probably just a pretty face with daddy’s credit card.”

But they still glanced, still had to double look. Still tried to pathetically copy your outfits, thinking no one would notice.

And the boys? That was a whole different story.

They were bolder. Eyes raking over you like they wanted to strip you of that power.

“She's insanely hot.”

“Nah, she’s cold. Look at her, she doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“My homie said he tried to ask her out and she laughed in his face.”

“She’s such a fucking bitch. Thinks she’s better than everyone.”

“I heard she turned down Jake. Yeah, she told him to fuck off.”

“I’d still fuck her.”

You heard it all, the whispers in the halls. Noticed the glances in the library, the subtle shifts in group dynamics when you walked into a room. And every single time, you kept your chin up, eyes forward, lips painted in a color too bold for anyone else to wear at 9AM.

You knew what they thought, and you didn’t care.

They wanted you. Desperately and pathetically. Some tried subtle—a smile here, a compliment there. Some tried bold, “Hey, you free this weekend?” And every single time, you turned them down.

Once, one guy said you smiled at him after a class, and touched his arm, leaning in close. He told everyone that you were into him. But the truth was, you didn’t even remember his name. And the next time he approached you, you stared at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

After that, the rumors have changed drastically. Now it wasn’t just that you were pretty. You were unreachable, above all of them.

They called you the untouchable princess like it was an insult—but you actually liked it. It just felt right because none of them had a chance with you. They never did.

None of them, except him—Lando Norris.

The kind of a guy your old friends would have warned you about. The kind of a guy who didn’t chase anymore, because he didn’t have to. Girls came to him—fell for his accent, soft, chocolate colored curls, that stupid grin, and those muscles hidden under his hoodie.

You noticed him before he said a single word to you. Not because he was loud, not because he flirted.

He didn’t. And that was the whole point.

He didn’t gawk or shift uncomfortably like the rest of the guys. He just watched from the back row, those aquamarine eyes of his stayed locked on you, tracing every curve of your body, every movement you made. You could feel him studying you, but he never tried to approach. Never even gave you a hint of a smile. Most guys would have tried something—a wink, a subtle compliment. But not him.

Lando seemed to be more of a silent observer—the kind of guy who liked to watch before making a move. The kind who liked to study what he couldn’t quite believe.

You didn’t give him any reason to break his silence. Your gaze never strayed toward him. You didn’t need to—you were above that. Still, the tension between you and him was palpable, and you felt it. Every second you were in that lecture hall, that magnetic pull of him watching you from across the room.

And for the first time since stepping on campus, you felt it—that flicker. That little electric twinge at the base of your spine. Because he wasn’t trying to win you over. He was studying you, testing you. And that? That was far more dangerous than any compliment.

When lunch time came, you barely bothered with the cafeteria. Why would you? You weren’t some average college student who ate their meals at the same tables as everyone else. No, you had your own routine.

You went to your favorite spot, a quiet bench by the trees at the edge of campus. The breeze was always perfect there, your skin kissed by the sunlight while you scrolled on your phone—every so often glancing up to see who noticed.

It was there you saw Lando again. He was with a group of guys, laughing a little too loud, but his eyes kept flicking toward you.

You watched him as he glanced your way, his gaze lingering. His friends didn’t notice, too caught up in their conversation. But you noticed, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to meet his eyes.

You didn’t smile, didn’t even acknowledge him. But you locked eyes for a split second, and he didn’t look away. There was something about the way he watched you—intense, intrigued, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.

You felt that stare burn into you like a mark. And when you stood up to leave, the air felt even heavier. It was the first time you’d felt this kind of electricity, this tension between you and someone else. Not just because he was looking at you. Not just because he was intrigued by the mystery of the untouchable girl.

But because Lando wasn’t like the others.

He knew what you were. He didn’t try to approach—he watched, and something in his eyes told you he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had figured you out.

────୨ৎ────

For Lando, it should’ve been nothing—just another girl in a sea of faces. Another pretty one among hundreds of college students, all trying to stand out in their own way.

But you? You were different.

Lando knew it before he even saw you. It wasn’t the beauty—he’d seen beautiful girls before. Hell, he’d had more than his fair share. It was the way the entire atmosphere seemed to shift when you first walked in. The murmur of voices dropped, conversations paused mid-sentence, and there was this subtle tension in the air—like the campus collectively held its breath.

He glanced up, his irritation already starting to build—he hated the drama, the unspoken competition among his friends, the way everyone seemed to lose their minds over a new girl.

But then he saw you. Tall and graceful. Skin glowing in a way that made no sense under fluorescent lights. You wore confidence like a second skin, head high, eyes forward, never faltering. There was a quiet authority in your presence that didn’t need words.

You weren’t looking for attention—but you got it, anyway. And fuck, that did kind of annoy him.

He watched you move through the hall like you owned it. Every step was deliberate, every motion sharp and controlled. You didn’t smile at anyone, didn’t even glance at the people who were already undressing you with their eyes.

“Oh, fuck me,” One of his friends muttered under his breath. “She’s a total 100.”

Lando snickered at his comment as he was used to the talk. He’d heard it all before. And the way every guy’s jaw dropped the second you walked into a room, the way they tripped over themselves just to be noticed by you. He’d seen it a hundred times.

But surprisingly, you didn’t seem to care. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it—the way they wanted you, the way they tried so damn hard, but couldn’t even get a chance to look you in the eye.

He rolled his eyes. Fuck this.

By the end of the week, the rumors started spreading.

“She’s untouchable. No one’s ever gotten close.”

“I tried to ask her out. She laughed and told me to fuck off.”

“She’s just a bitch. Thinks she’s too good for anyone here.”

But the one that stuck? The one everyone repeated like it was the gospel truth—the untouchable princess.

Lando didn’t even know why it irritated him so much. It was just a nickname. Just three, meaningless words for him. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake it off. It crawled under his skin in a way he wasn’t used to. It was the way people were treating you like a myth—this perfect, untouchable creature who couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be reached.

And as much as he tried to keep his composure, he had to admit that he hated it.

There was no denying that Lando had his own reputation. Everyone on campus knew who he was: the loud, cocky frat boy who always seemed to be having fun, who lived for the challenge of pulling the next girl into his bed. But you? You were different. You didn’t care about guys like him—and that was infuriating.

He’d watched other guys try. Some were bold, others sweet, some obnoxious, and a few damn near desperate. But you never blinked. You never even acknowledged them—except for the rare moments when you’d look at them with that cold, almost condescending smile.

“You know, I tried talking to her the other day,” One of the guys complained, rolling his eyes at the mere thought of you. “And can you believe that she just looked at me and said, ‘I don’t think you’re worth my time.’ What a fucking bitch.”

Lando had heard the stories. Hell, everyone had. But the thing that got him wasn’t the stories themselves. It was the fact that you never gave anyone—anyone—a shot. You made it clear, in a way that was so effortless it was almost cruel, that you were above them.

That was what pissed him off so much.

One night, Lando sat with a few of his friends at the campus bar, listening to them debate how they might finally break through your perfect little bubble.

“She’s a challenge,” One of the guys said, taking a swig from his beer. “No one’s gotten in. But I bet she’ll crack soon.”

Lando had been quiet. Too quiet, in fact. He didn’t know why he was even bothered by the conversation, but he was. He didn’t like the way they talked about you like you were some kind of conquest. He didn’t like how they dismissed you as just another pretty face, like they could wear you down if they just kept trying hard enough.

What made you untouchable, anyway? Was it your looks? Your attitude? The way you always seemed so goddamn unbothered by the world around you?

Fuck, he was tired of it already. Still, something about it nagged at him. And Lando wasn’t the kind of guy who backed down from a challenge—not even if that challenge was wrapped up in a cold, perfect, untouchable package.

By the time the first party of the semester rolled around, everyone knew you’d be there. It was like some kind of unspoken rule—you never skipped a chance to make an appearance, but you never really engaged either. You’d show up, stand in the corner in that definitely too short skirt and a tube top while casually sipping your drink, and making sure no one got too close.

And that’s when Lando saw you again. You were standing there, across the room, looking like you didn’t care about a single thing happening around you. Your friends laughed in the distance, but you were… separate. Like you didn’t belong to them. Like you belonged somewhere else entirely.

And Lando? Well, he wasn’t about to let this go on much longer.

“Hey,” One of his friends said, elbowing him. “Isn’t that the untouchable princess?”

Lando narrowed his eyes, watching you across the room. You hadn’t even noticed him yet.

“Yeah,” He muttered, his voice thick with annoyance. “Untouchable. Sure.”

Lando didn’t know what had possessed him, but before he knew it, he excused himself from his group and pushed through the crowd towards you. His mind was racing, irritation bubbling up in his chest.

What the hell was he doing? He didn’t need to chase anyone—especially not someone like you.

But there was something in the way you stood there, pretty and untouched, like you were above everyone else. Something about it— about you—made him need to test it for himself.

────୨ৎ────

You were already tipsy when he found you. Not drunk—never sloppy—but softened. Loosened, like your walls had finally cracked, just enough to let something in.

You were in the hallway, lit by the low pulse of party lights and the bass thudding through the floor. The air smelled like cheap beer and sweat, but somehow, when you turned your head to look at him, all he could smell was your perfume. Warm, sharp, and dangerous.

“Looking for something?” Lando asked, leaning in like he already knew the answer.

You stared at him for half a beat before finally answering, “Privacy.”

His brow rose, a smile wandering on his lips, “And you’re telling me that… why?” His eyes fell to your lips before looking back into your eyes, and biting his lower lip.

He knew what he was doing.

After a moment of silence, you finally shot, “Bathroom. Now.” To which Lando’s eyes shined almost immediately as if he was anticipating you saying that.

Then, you turned, slow and graceful, and walked into the nearest bathroom, his hands on you before the lock even clicked.

The second the door shut behind you two, the air went thick. His hand was at your waist, spinning you around, pressing you back against the counter so hard the edge dug into the skin of your thighs. It was like the pressure in the room doubled, the music from the party outside growing muffled, distant. Everything shrank down until it was just the two of you—just Lando, and that unstoppable pull he had toward you.

You didn’t need to say a word. The moment you stepped into this space, the moment you looked at him with that gaze—he knew what you wanted. You were too pretty to hide it. Too perfect to pretend. And in here, with the door locked behind you? You couldn’t lie to him anymore.

“Fucking finally.” Lando muttered as he crushed his mouth against yours like he’d been waiting years for it, not just weeks.

He kissed you like he hated you—like you’d pissed him off just by existing, and maybe you had. The way you walked around with your chin high, that bored little smirk on your face, pretending like nothing and no one could touch you. Well, now he was going to.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, lifting you off the ground and slamming you into the sink. The cold tile of the counter pressed against your thighs, and you gasped, head falling back as your breath caught. Then he proceeded to slide his hands under your top, dragging them upward like he couldn’t decide what to rip off first.

His kiss felt as if he wanted to devour you, not just taste your lips. Like he could rip the pride out of you with his mouth alone. Lando’s tongue slipped inside your mouth, claiming you, leaving no space between you and him. His lips were bruising against yours—not soft, not caring.

After finally pulling himself away from your intoxicating kiss, he slid lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. Lando grinned against the skin of your jaw, because fuck, he’d known it. Knew the rumors were wrong. Knew you weren’t some frigid little ice queen. You were fire.

“Been watching you,” He growled into your neck, lips hot against your skin. “Strutting around like some fucking queen. All the guys panting. You act like they don’t exist. You think you’re too good for them, don’t you?”

You let out a breathy laugh, cocky, smug. “Oh, but I am.”

He grinned against your throat. “Yeah? Let’s see then, shall we?”

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking just enough to make your mouth open wider, lipstick smeared at the corner of your lips—already ruined, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet. He stared at you like you were a prey, chest rising, jaw clenched.

And he could feel it now as he slid his hands under your skirt. The truth—no panties. You wanted this, had wanted it all along.

“Of course you’re not wearing anything under this,” He snickered, voice low and rough as his hand slid up your thigh. “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You blinked up at him—breathless, already trembling. “Maybe.”

“Such a fucking tease.” He muttered, voice low, almost a growl.

Your heart pounded. God, you couldn’t even pretend anymore. There was nothing but need, desperate and raw, coiling deep in your belly. You were so wet for him—every inch of you had been waiting for this.

You could feel his breath against your neck as he whispered low, his voice dark and rough. “You think I’m just gonna fuck you?” Lando paused, his hands sliding over your stomach, up to your ribs, then down again to your thighs. “No, sweetheart. You’re gonna let me make you come first.”

His fingers traced the curve of your thigh—just a light touch, just enough to make you shiver. Then, without warning, his hand slid up between your thighs, his fingers dragging through your folds again, slow and deliberate, testing, teasing.

“God, you’re so wet,” He snickered, fingers gently brushing over your clit. “And all of this for me? For a guy like me?”

“S-shut up.” You tried to answer him while trying to hold yourself together as his fingers circled your clit again, a little firmer this time.

You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you, your hips involuntarily grinding back against his hand.

“Oh, darling, don’t act like you’re not into this,” He teased, his voice dripping with that signature smirk. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Wanted me to touch you.”

His thumb pressed down a little harder, dragging through your slickness, and you gasped, a small sound escaping before you could stop it.

Lando smirked at your reaction, “You like that?” He asked, his voice low, and husky.

Your body answered for you—a tremor passed through you, and you had to grip the counter harder, trying to steady yourself as his fingers slid down, slipping inside you with one slow move. Your breath immediately caught in your throat. The sweet stretch of his fingers, and the pressure was just enough to make you gasp, make your body pulse around him.

“There we go,” He grinned, chuckling at how responsive you were. “So fucking tight. I bet no one’s ever made you feel this way. Bet they’ve all just fucked you without taking care of you, haven’t they?” You clenched around him, the words stinging even though you weren’t sure if they were true.

Lando’s fingers worked you, pulling out, pushing in again, circling inside you, deep enough to make you ache, but never enough to break you—at least, not yet.

“Oh, fuck—” You moaned, sounding already wrecked.

“God, listen to you,” He groaned, scrutinizing your facial expressions, “You sound perfectly, and you feel so good,” Lando added, his voice turning rougher. “Tighter than I thought. Like you’ve been holding out for me.”

You could barely breathe, your pulse racing, and your hips moved involuntarily with the rhythm of his hand, desperate for more. You felt every flick of his fingers, every press against that one sweet spot deep inside you. You whimpered, soft and broken, and your hips rolled toward his hand instinctively—needy, just like he knew you were.

“That’s right, baby,” Lando whispered against your skin, lips leaving wet kisses down your throat. “Rub your perfect little cunt on my hand. C’mon, make it messy.”

And you did—rocking back against him, desperate for friction, for anything.

“I knew it,” Lando groaned, the corner of his lips lifing slightly, “Knew you weren’t some cold, untouchable princess. You’re a filthy fucking girl in disguise, aren’t you?”

Your voice was breathy, wrecked. “Yes—”

“Louder.”

“Yes! Fuck—” His thumb brushed against your clit, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped. “Oh shit— Lan—”

“You’re getting close, huh?” His voice was almost a growl now, his hand moving faster, firmer. “I can feel it because you’re fucking soaked for me. Want me to make you come on my fingers? Want me to touch you until you can’t think straight, sweetheart?”

You nodded, desperate now, your body already trembling, the heat building in your core. You felt like you were on the edge, and he was the only thing keeping you from falling.

“Yes—yes, Lando— please!”

“Come for me then,” He demanded, his voice cold and commanding, but there was an edge of tenderness beneath it. “Show me how good my fingers make you feel.”

And with the last push of his fingers, you came with a strangled cry, your legs nearly buckling, pussy clenching so hard around his fingers it dragged a groan out of him.

You collapsed against the counter, gripping it tightly as the orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling and pulsing as you came all over his hand. His fingers never stopped, though—still working you through it, gently, teasingly, until your hips jerked away from him, too sensitive to take any more.

You instinctively leaned forward, resting your head against his chest as the impact of your orgasm had caught up with you. One of Lando’s arms wrapped around your fragile figure, trying to ground you for the moment.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He whispered, his voice rough, but there was something different in it now—something darker. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that? Could watch you all night long.”

Lando pulled his fingers out of you slowly, deliberately, watching the way your slick clung to them—thick and glistening under the low light of the bathroom. His chest rose with a sharp inhale, and you watched, breath caught in your throat, as he brought those same fingers to his lips. He didn’t look away from you. Not once.

He sucked the tips into his mouth, tasting you with a low groan rumbling from his chest — guttural, unrestrained, and so visceral it made your stomach twist.

“Fuck,” He breathed against his fingers, voice dark and reverent. “You taste just how I imagined—sweet and so fucking delicious.”

The praise struck something deep in you, heat blooming fast, sharp and needy. You squirmed under his gaze, lips parted, barely breathing as you watched him slowly pull his fingers from his mouth.

And then he brought them to your lips.

“Open your mouth.”

You didn’t need him to say it again. Your lips parted willingly, your pulse hammering in your ears as his slick-coated fingers slid inside. Your tongue wrapped around them, eagerly licking your taste off of him, eyes locked with his the entire time.

The way he watched you—so focused, and so possessive—made your whole body tense. There was nothing playful in his expression now. Only hunger. Only claiming.

He dragged his fingers back out with a deliberate slowness, lips curling into something wicked as he brushed a damp strand of hair behind your ear, voice lowering.

“Still think you’re untouchable?”

Your breath caught in your throat because right now, you didn’t feel untouchable at all. You felt owned.

While still recovering from the aftershocks, you could barely speak. But as you pushed away from his chest to look up at him, you managed to smirk—just a little.

“Maybe I’m just not easy.”

Lando chuckled, that wicked grin returning to his lips. He pressed his forehead against yours, body still flush against yours, but his hands never stopped roaming—touching, caressing, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Don’t worry, princess. You’re not easy, I’ll give you that.” He leaned in close, voice just a whisper against your ear. “But I’m gonna make you mine.”

In the split of the second, Lando turned you towards the sink, forcing you to face the mirror. The glass of the mirror fogged slightly in front of you from your breath, your palms flattening on either side of the basin to steady yourself. Your eyes met his in the reflection, wide, glossy, mascara already beginning to melt. Your reflection was already flushed, dazed—lips kiss-bruised, hair tugged loose.

“Look at yourself,” He murmured, “Pretty little thing. Bet you’ve never looked this messy before.”

The reflection in the mirror stared back at you. You already looked wrecked—lips swollen, eyes dark, cheeks flushed—and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. But he was going to. And oh, he was going to make a goddamn mess out of you.

Lando didn’t even have to pull you into place. You were already bending for him—hands braced on the edge of the sink, ass tilted just right, like your body knew what it was for before your mind caught up.

You didn’t even get a chance to recover before you heard the rip of a condom packet, barely being able to register it over your own panting. Then, he was already lining himself up, one hand gripping your waist, and the other guiding himself to your entrance.

“Still so wet for me, sweetheart,” He chuckled, “You’re gonna take every inch of me, aren’t you?” Lando asked before he finally pushed into you—slowly, the head of his cock stretching you, making you cry out again.

“Fuck—” His fingers dug into your waist as he buried himself deeper, forcing a cry out of you as your body stretched to accommodate him.

For a moment, all you could hear was your breath—heavy and desperate, mingling with his. Your hands were planted on the counter, gripping so tightly you thought you might break the ceramic. But you didn’t care. In that moment, every inch of you in was focused on him—on his cock filling you up.

“Shit—so fucking tight,” He hissed under his breath. “Taking me so well, though. Look at that. Every inch.”

He didn’t stop until he was buried inside you. The stretch was perfect—just enough to make your breath hitch, just enough to make you feel full, completely. He held still for a moment, grinding his hips into yours, letting you feel it, letting it burn a little.

“You okay?” Lando asked, voice suddenly quieter and tender as he leaned down to you. His eyes met yours in the mirror, gentle and caring, “Is it too much?”

“N-no—” You answered as you shook your head frantically, desperate, breathless.

“Good,” He murmured, lips kissing softly your shoulder. “Because I’m not stopping.”

And then he started to move. Long, slow thrusts at first—like he wanted you to feel every dragging inch as he slid in and out of you.

You moaned loudly, and Lando lost it. His hands dug into your hips as his thrusts turned rough, desperate, each one slamming into you harder than the last. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, obscene and beautiful.

“You feel that?” He groaned, pounding into you, voice breaking. “That’s what being fucked feels like.”

You were too far gone to answer. Just moaned again, louder, hips moving back against him like you needed more. “Lan—”

“Say it again,” He growled. “Say my name like that.”

“Lan…” You gasped, eyes fluttering, mascara streaking down you cheeks. “God— Lando!”

His hand wrapped in your hair and he pulled your head up, forcing your gaze back to the mirror. “Look at you, sweetheart,” He murmured, “This is the girl everyone’s scared to talk to?”

You whimpered a noise that didn’t sound like it belonged to you. Not the cold, controlled, perfect girl everyone knew.

“But this is how I want to see you,” He whispered, hips snapping forward again. “Bent over, begging. Not walking past me like you don’t even see me. Not pretending you’re too good for this.”

You weren’t even pretending anymore. You were completely gone. Eyes glassy, mouth open, nails dragging down the edge of the sink. You whimpered, arching your back as your body took everything he gave and still begged for more.

“I knew it. I knew you were gonna feel like this,” His voice was breaking now, hips snapping forward. “I’ve dreamt about it. Losing my fucking mind thinking about it. Every time I saw you walk past me in that tiny little skirt—”

Slap. His hand came down hard on your ass. You cried out, grinding back on him like you loved it.

“I knew I had to be the one to break you. Not just fuck you. But ruin you.” Your makeup was smudged, eyes glassy, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth.

“Look at yourself,” He growled again, one hand tangling in your hair once again, yanking your head up. “Eyes on the fucking mirror.” He forced you to watch.

When you did as he said, you were immediately met with the sight of your mascara streaking down your cheeks, the red bite marks on your neck, the tremble in your thighs every time he drove into you.

“I look—” You gasped, not being able to form a proper sentence.

“Say it,” He snickered, “Tell me how you look, baby.”

“I… I look—” You blinked, eyes glossy from the tears that had gathered in the meantime. “Ugly.”

Lando smirked, lips brushing your ear as he slowed the rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that made your whole body jolt. “Finally. Finally not so fucking perfect. But shit—” His voice cracked. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Lando had to admit that the rumors weren’t just a noise.

You were every bit as breathtaking as they said. No, not just pretty. Stunning, ethereal, and achingly divine. The kind of beauty that didn’t require introductions—it walked in before you did, settled into rooms before your name was even spoken.

What pissed Lando off was that no one was exaggerating it. There was no illusion here, no inflated tale passed down in drunken whispers between boys at frat parties.

And the worst part? You knew it.

You were the kind of pretty that hurt to look at too long. Everything about you was deliberate—every glance, every flick of your hair, every sharp curve of your smile. Even the way you told boys “no” had a certain poise to it. Like rejection was a language you were fluent in.

It was that confidence that infuriating, untouchable grace that made you impossible to ignore. Even now—half-undressed, flushed, breathless—that same air clung to you. Head tipped back, mouth parted, eyes glazed over from the intensity of his touch. You looked utterly wrecked, and yet somehow still composed, still powerful in your vulnerability. And that made Lando grit his fucking teeth.

Strands of hair that stuck to your skin because of the sweat, were now framing your face. Some were sticking out in wild directions from how tightly he’d gripped your hair moments ago. Your top slid down your body, and your bralette was tugged down just enough for your breasts to spill out. Lando’s hickeys and marks were littered across your chest, your neck, and your thighs as some silent reminders of the chaos between you, of how tightly he’d held you, how desperately he’d tried to burn himself into your skin.

You looked completely ruined. Yet still impossibly, maddeningly, gorgeous.

Your legs were shaking, whimpering louder with each thrust. Lando leaned forward—chest pressing to your back, one hand snaking up to grip your jaw, forcing your eyes back to your own reflection.

“All that attitude, and that untouchable bullshit. But you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. So wet that it’s pathetic. Where is that attitude now, huh?”

You didn’t answer—couldn’t. The words were lodged somewhere in your throat, drowning in the way your body was still twitching from the last orgasm he’d torn out of you. You weren’t sure if you could find your voice even if you wanted to because you were crying now—not sobbing, but tears had welled in your eyes, smudging your mascara, making streaks down your cheeks.

And it was beautiful.

“That’s what I thought,” He breathed, lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re not untouchable, that’s some bullshit. You’re just mine.”

His words felt like silk and gasoline, soft and destructive at once, setting fire to everything you thought you knew about yourself. And as he rocked into you again—slow, deep, possessive—the mirror gave you nowhere to hide.

This wasn’t the version of you the world knew, and this wasn’t the girl they whispered about in dining halls and locker rooms. This was the one Lando had—unraveling, trembling, bare in every sense of the word.

As Lando watched you fall apart again beneath him, he couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t out of cruelty, but with the satisfaction that he’d gotten closer to something no one else ever would.

The sight of you like this—breathing heavy, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glossy—wasn’t supposed to exist. You weren’t supposed to exist like this. vulnerable. Letting him or anyone see you like this. But here you were, and it fucking wrecked him.

If this was what you looked like when you were ruined, then no wonder no one could shut the fuck up about you. And now that he’d seen it for himself, touched it, tasted it, and felt it—there was no going back.

He slammed into you again, and again, and your walls clenched around him like you were close. The wet sound of your arousal echoed between you, loud and filthy and raw as your thighs trembled.

You moaned, loud, and broken. Your hips rocked back, chasing him as he leaned in, lips at your ear. “Tell me, baby,” He whispered. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about this.”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He slammed his cock into you deeper—harder—and your mouth fell open on a cry.

“Say it.”

“Yes— Lando—fuck—I’ve been thinking about it,” You gasped. “Your hands— your dick— I wanted all of you—”

“I know you did,” He laughed smugly. “I felt it the second you walked in the room. Every fucking guy here’s been drooling over you, but you didn’t want them, did you?”

“No—” You managed to stutter.

“You wanted me. The one who wasn’t chasing you.”

Your head dropped forward, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Hie was relentless now—deep and steady, thumb matching the rhythm on your clit until your legs threatened to give.

“Please, Lan! Fuck, let me come—”

“That’s it, princess,” He whispered. “Come for me. Come while you look like this—crying, filthy, and drooling on my cock. Let them call you untouchable now.”

You came hard—body convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream, nails digging into porcelain like you might break it. Your moans filled the room, echoing off tile and mirror and the sound of skin slapping skin. Your whole body shook, muscles clamping around him like a vice.

And as you were still gasping, limp against the sink, legs trembling hard, Lando wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you upright.

“Such a good fucking girl,” He murmured, “Taking it all, and letting me wreck you.”

When he came, deep and hard inside you, growling your name, he didn’t pull out. He just held you there, trembling, gasping, both of you sticky with sweat and slick and spit and the heat of the kind of sex that left marks long after it ended.

You both stayed there for a beat, panting. You couldn’t even find any strength to lift your head. Your legs were shaking, lips wet with spit. And when you finally raised your head up, you met his eyes in the mirror again. Still flushed, still gorgeous, even like this.

He leaned down, lips brushing your neck, voice low. “Yeah,” Lando muttered, like a confession, still holding you as if your were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Even ruined like this, you’re still the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

────୨ৎ────

Lando barely heard the words of his friends at first.

He was too far gone in his own head, back in that bathroom.

His chest tightened with the memory. He barely noticed when one of his buddies kicked his foot again under the table.

“Yo, Lando, you hear me?”

Lando blinked, dragging himself out of the fog of his thoughts. The conversation buzzed around him, a lazy backdrop to the one thing still on his mind. It was almost laughable.

The untouchable girl. The girl everyone else talked about like a goddamn riddle—like some unreachable prize. You walked past them all like you were a queen, and they were your peasants. Everyone knew your name but you never cared. You acted like you were above it all—and they let you, watching from afar, too scared to get too close.

But Lando? He’d made it past the walls you built. He knew the truth—you weren’t untouchable—you were just playing hard to get. A little game to you. But to him? You were ruined.

He could still feel you in his hands, your lips trembling beneath his. He could still smell your perfume clinging to his skin, the taste of your tears as he drove you to the edge of what you were pretending to be. Untouchable, but only because you were scared to admit you wanted it.

“Bro,” Said someone to his left, “You guys saw her last night?” Lando didn’t respond, just took a slow sip from his cup, eyes half-lidded as he leaned back into the couch, looking at them like they were all idiots.

“Seriously, she was there, and that skirt—fuck. She was clearly looking for attention.” He still didn’t look over. He knew exactly who they were talking about—you.

“Bet I could get her number,” Someone muttered. “Easy. Just gotta catch her alone.”

Lando snorted into his drink. He had you bent over a sink, tears down your cheeks, crying for his cock while you watched yourself fall apart. And they were still here, talking about how they might try and get your number.

Fucking idiots.

“She doesn’t even talk to people,” Another guy argued. “Dude, she shot Justin down in front of everyone. Just laughed in his face and walked away.”

Lando barely managed to hide his grin behind his cup. They still had no fucking idea.

“Someone’s gotta break the streak.” One of them said, stretching his arms.

“Shit, I’d take the risk. I’d fuckin’ die happy if she just spat on me.” Another replied, making everyone from the group laugh.

Everyone, except Lando. He was too busy replaying the way you looked with your thighs trembling, cum dripping down your leg.

That memory hit like a drug, hot and thick in his veins. You’d tried to keep it together—of course you had. But he saw the way your eyes fluttered when he grabbed your chin. Heard the way your voice cracked when you whimpered his name.

The voices of his friends slowly broke through again,“We need to do it,” Someone said, “Seriously. We’ve all been talking about it for weeks now. Someone’s gotta prove it.”

You had a funny way of making people go stupid. The moment you set foot on campus, the entire food chain reset. Boys barked, girls bristled, and the world tilted slightly in your direction like it didn’t know how to resist. And they still thought you were a fantasy.

“She’s such a fucking tease,” Another one muttered, “Walks around like she’s better than everyone. Bet she’s cold as hell in bed.”

Lando’s jaw tightened at those words. Wrong. You were a fucking fire.

“I’d give anything to see that skirt hit the floor,” Another said. “Bet no one’s even touched her yet.” And at that, Lando finally laughed—a quiet, smug sound from deep in his chest.

“Told you,” The first guy said, grinning as he elbowed Lando. “He’s obsessed with her, but thinks he’s sneaky about it. Lando, when are you gonna do it, huh? Be the one to finally shut her up. Break the curse, mate.”

Lando leaned back, stretching out like a lion who’d already been fed. He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“You need to do it, mate,” Another guy said, “C’mon, be the one to finally shut her up. Imagine what it’d be like.” In response, Lando just hummed while taking another lazy sip of his drink, letting them talk.

He didn’t need to imagine anything.

“C’mon, man,” One laughed, nodding. “It’s like she’s asking for it. Walks around with that short skirt and attitude, like she owns the place. There’s gotta be a way to crack her.” The rest of the group agreed, their voices rising with excitement, as if one of them was going to be the first to conquer the impossible.

They all joked about it—how it had to be done, how someone needed to step up, take the challenge, and finally prove the rumors wrong. And through it all, Lando couldn’t help but smirk.

Because unlike them? He didn’t need to prove anything. He already had you.

And as if on cue, the front door opened, and there you were. You walked in like you owned the place—like you always did.

Sunlight hit your skin just right—a golden sheen over every inch of you, glowing like the campus might as well have been your throne. You had your usual face on—blank and unreadable, your perfectly glossed lips slightly parted like you were always bored.

And that fucking, black skirt. The way it barely covered your ass, a little too short for anyone’s comfort, showing off legs that seemed to go on forever. Of course he noticed the faint bruise near the top of your thigh, peeking out just below the hem. His bruise. He remembered placing it there with his own hands, his fucking name.

You moved through the crowd like you didn’t even notice them, your gaze focused, but not on anything. It was like you had a bubble around you, a forcefield that kept them at arm’s length. And Lando? He just smirked, slowly but deliberately. He wasn’t going to let them know anything, after all.

“Yeah, man,” One of the guys continued, his voice too loud, eager. “Someone’s gotta put their hands on her. I’m serious. It’s time to prove she’s not untouchable.”

The others nodded, excited. “You’re right. One of us just has to get close, ask her out, show her what she’s missing.”

Lando’s gaze never left you, even as you turned and walked past him. The moment was electric, almost suffocating, as your eyes flickered to his once again. And just like that, that slight blush crept up your neck—a quiet acknowledgment. Your lips curled into that small, knowing smile. And that? That was all the confirmation he needed. You might be untouchable to everyone else, but he had already claimed you.

Lando’s stomach tightened. His smirk was immediate, lazy, like it was second nature.

He let the moment hang, drew it out. Watched the way you walked away like nothing had happened, like the two of you weren’t still vibrating with the tension of it all. Like you hadn’t made eye contact while his cum was still drying on your thigh the night before.

“Damn,” One of the guys said, cutting into the silence. “She’s unreal. We really gotta get someone to prove it, man.”

Lando’s hand gripped tighter his phone, feeling that same familiar tug in his chest. They were still talking, and now it started to fucking irritate him.

He leaned back in his seat, chin tilted just slightly. His voice was low, easy, almost amused. “Yeah, well, I don’t think so,” Lando finally muttered, voice smooth and cold. “Did you guys forget already? She’s untouchable.”

The guys groaned, laughed, and swore like they thought he was giving up. But Lando didn’t even flinch. He didn’t need to explain anything. He just kept watching the path you’d walked, imagining you with your back arched, mascara running, breath hitching as you came apart around him, moaning his name.

Because the truth was—he’d already tasted you, and already ruined you. Basically, Lando had you wrapped around his finger.

And most importantly, he proved you’re not as untouchable as everyone thought.

reuploads and likes are highly appreciated ♡

taglist: @norristrii @ernegren

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #fanfic

663 notes · View notes

awrkive · 8 months ago

Text

WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.)

there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.

PAIRING cnbl!jungkook x cnbl!female reader

GENRE r18+ (SMUT, fluff) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 11k of pure fluffy and smutty nonsense 😍 literally 90% of this is smut

WARNINGS/MISC fluff galore, cnbl jk is the father of all simps all men need to be like him fr, angst if u squint but like not really 😭, oc's tendencies to be avoidant of her feelings show up lol i still love u saur, best boy cnbl jk ):, he will disintegrate if he cant call her by a petname [ explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x (its just a fanfic its not that serious), panty sniffing (like very quick), dirty talking lol, c*nnilingus, they hold hands during it <3, VERY SLIGHT foot action but like its very fleeting lol u dont need to worry about it lmfao, multiple s*x positions, cowgirl position cos her eyes are pretty trope, good ole cre*mpies ], L b*mb drop and an ily kink develops. literally every paragraph theres an ily crying. anyways i think thats all feel free to inform me if i left out any

NOTES i have like 11 asks on my inbox asking about how cnbl couple is and what their label is are they official now etc etc and they've sitting there since bush administration </3 after two years of drought we are finally so back. i purposefully didnt answer any of th asks since i want to make a drabble for when they finally make things official so this is it awrkive nation🩷 this can be read as a standalone?? but like pls read cnbl first lol (also i thought i ate this title when i thought about it but now i realize it kinda sounds ass but its 2am so give me some slack. also this is unedited skjfdjkfhdk AND this will also be my last post before i go mia for the next few weeks due to big life happenings. leave ur thoughts in my inbox or reply section to get a cnbl jk to go🫂

ORIGINAL STORY [CNBL] | MAIN MASTERLIST

Jungkook loves when he gives it to you slow. Loves the heavy breathes that puff out of your mouth, the drawl out moans that give your mouth that lovely, erotic O-shape which image burns in his head for the next few days (two days, at the very least), and the way he can feel the exact moment when you clench and unclench around the ridges of his hard cock.

But he also loves it when he jackhammers into your pussy, pounding in and out of it at a quick pace that your eyes roll to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his skin (or scalp), the staccato rhythm of your “oh”s and “ah”s that sound like real music to his ears, and the way your mouth hangs open as you utter sweet gibberish into the air because the pleasure he’s giving you feels too much.

“Give it to me, give it to me,” you whisper against his mouth. On your back, you’re sprawled across his bed, your thighs resting on the crook of Jungkook’s elbows as he pounds into you like he’s trying to win a contest.

There’s dried up tears on the side of your eyes, your lips swollen from the way you’ve been kissing for minutes, and Jungkook finds it hard to focus on one thing when you have your pussy gripping around him like a fucking vice, your breasts bouncing at his every quick thrust, and your pretty face looking at him like you just want nothing but cock.

“Y-yeah, fuck—” Jungkook grunts, repeating the same motion of fucking into you at a pace so fast he can hear his bedframe hitting the wall when he thrusts back. He grips your thighs tight, veins popping out of his arms. “You like this, baby? Love when I fuck you quick and fast?”

You nod your head, bottom lip caught in your teeth, looking up at him with those hooded eyes that Jungkook is near to losing his goddamn mind. God, you’re so fucking pretty it genuinely hurts him. Most especially his dick.

“Am I fucking you stupid, angel?” He slides out, and then enters you abruptly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I'm taking care of you so good you can't think straight, huh? Hm?’

“Y-yes!” You squeak out, grabbing to try and hold onto his biceps. Jungkook leans forward so you can find leverage on his body, his dick hitting deeper into your core at the movement. At the mewl that you let out, he stretches your legs higher until you almost feel like you’re being folded in half, with Jungkook jackhammering his dick into your tight pussy.

"S-so good…" you whimpered, almost out of breath.

Jungkook groans at the pretty sound. “Ngh– I feel fucking good, too, baby. You're so fucking pretty. Squeeze those tits for me.”

You oblige, grabbing your boobs and squishing them together. Jungkook revels at the sight, wanting nothing but to burn every second in memory. Sometimes, he wishes he can have some sort of copy of you two doing this… just a little something for your own private enjoyment. He hasn’t brought it up to you, mostly because he thinks you won’t necessarily be into the idea as much as he is. Will probably say no, or be partial to it at best.

Next time. He tells himself.

“Fuck, fuck – fuck!” Jungkook grunts, sliding in and out of you, picking up his pace more, beginning to sound delirious at the sensation of your walls fluttering around his cock. It’s impossible the way you just grow tighter every second, clenching around him like you don’t have any intentions of letting go.

“J-Jungkook—!” You cry out, arms reaching out for him, and when Jungkook sees the small stream of tears falling out from your eyes again, he can’t help but fuck you senseless. “Oh my god– ah– fuck, i-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He continues his movements, pounding into your pussy, tightening his hold on your hips. Your nails dig into his forearms, and your chest subtly moves up and down at every action that he makes. When you close your eyes, that’s when Jungkook knows that your climax is near, and so he stays consistent in his pace, just fucking into you deep and fast – just like how you like it now.

“Ah– there, Jungkook— oh god–!” You yelp, choking in your words, your pussy spasming around Jungkook’s cock until he feels that burst of hot white around his shaft. You reflexively let out a loud moan, but what you say next completely catches him off-guard.

“It feels so good– I love you.”

Jungkook staggers, dick slipping out of you momentarily at your sudden confession. But as he lets his gaze fall to your face, you have your eyes closed, lost in the moment, like how you usually are when you just orgasmed – and Jungkook knows he can’t talk to you at that state, nor can he ask to confirm what you just said.

So he looks down at where your bodies meet, shakily breathes when he sees the base of his cock getting covered in your cum, your juices dripping all over his dark sheets making a wet spot underneath you.

“F-fuck,” He hisses, quickening his pace to let himself go.

He thinks about the sound of your “I love you”, how it falls prettily on your lips, and how good it would be to hear that one more fucking time.

Letting out a guttural groan, the thought completely tips him over the edge, and he grips his cock to shoot his cum into your swollen hole, painting your walls white just as you painted his shaft the same color with your own orgasm.

Unexpectedly, he feels you gush the second time.

It’s cold and it’s hot at the same time – the sensation. It’s top three one of the best feelings a man could ever experience, and Jungkook is greedy – always greedy when it comes to you – that he pushes his cock back in to put it all in you, not wanting any to be wasted on the mattress. And just because he wants to hear that pretty moan from you again when he enters your cunt.

You do, making the hair on his body tingle.

He drops down beside your body – more like on top of you, but a little off to the side – making sure to not put all his weight on you lest he hurts you. As usual, you receive him wholeheartedly with open arms, humming when he begins to suckle on your still rock-hard nipples, his hand shooting up to fondle the other one. Instantly, your hand caresses his hair.

“Kook.”

“Hm?” He hums against your breast.

“I’m sore. Get your dick off me.”

Jungkook frowns, but nonetheless acquiesces and slides out of you. He hisses when he feels your cum leaking out, about to insert a finger in you to stop it, but you take his temporary separation from you to stand up from the bed, leaving him on it alone.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls – whines – really, looking at you with furrowed brows.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not cockwarming you tonight. I’m going to the shower–” When you see him moving to get up from the bed as well, you shoot him a glare. “No. No funny business. I’ll just go clean up and you can too and then we’ll sleep.”

“I can clean you up.” Jungkook looks at you, wide-eyed. You look at him dryly. He sighs and then lets himself fall back to the bed, naked and all that, his dick still semi-hard against his stomach. “Okay, fine.”

“Good.”

He stares at your ass as you go to the bathroom, enjoying the view of your naked back before you disappear inside the room.

Jungkook closes his eyes as he crosses his arms on the back of his head, thinking that maybe it’s good you didn’t let him in the shower with you because… how does he bring up the fact that you just said… it?

“I love you.”

Did you… mean that? Like… you love him? Like, actually, love love him?

It’s been eight months since your whole set up started. Four months of solely fucking and another four months of more fucking but you’ve actually both established that you like each other.

Of course, Jungkook feels more than that. He has for a long time now. He’s liked you since the first time you had sex and he started having deeper feelings for you every other day since then.

Needless to say, Jungkoon loves you.

Has for a long time now.

But he didn’t say anything because he was scared that you would be scared. He felt like the luckiest guy on earth when you told him you liked him – and he felt pretty much untouchable when you two started exclusively dating each other four months ago. You’re definitely his girlfriend now and him your boyfriend – and sure, you haven’t had The Talk yet, but… now that you said you love him… that pretty much changes the course of everything…

Right?

However, he finds himself pondering on it.

Did you really mean that? Jungkook doesn’t think you’re the kind of person who just spout words as heavy as that confession, so you couldn’t have been insincere when you let that out.

But… you were in the middle of sex, though. Did you just say it because you were in that position? Maybe you figured him out long ago now, have already known that he loves you, so you just said it to get him off?

That’s probably not the case, he physically shakes his head. He knows that you know you don’t need to do anything else other than be underneath him or on top of him so he can release. Hell, your mere voice is even enough to tip him off the edge; there are countless incidents where he feels a certain kind of desperation for you, in the morning or in the middle of the night when you’re away and not in his arms, and he presses your name on his contact last, then what’s supposed to be an innocent call turns into something very much far from wholesome when he feels his dick twitch at the very sound of your voice and embarrassingly cums in his pants when you goad him about it.

You know your tight hold on him. You don’t need to say I love you to get him off.

But damn, did that really get him going more than usual.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, his head throbbing at the thoughts going haywire inside his head. His dick has calmed down now, soft in between his legs, and he’s starting to feel sticky, especially with the ruined sheets on his back.

Standing up, he picks them up to put them in the hamper, grabbing a towel real quick to wrap around his lower half.

When he finishes changing the bedsheets into fresh and clean ones, that’s when you step out of the shower.

“I turned on the hot water for you.” You say, tightening your baby blue robe which is a pair of Jungkook’s own robe that he bought for you two two months ago.

Jungkook walks over to your direction and takes you by the waist to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. You give him a smile and he can’t help but give you a peck once again. “I made the bed.”

“Thanks.”

Jungkook stands there and he doesn’t notice that he’s staring until you point it out with an arched brow.

“What?”

With a surprised look, Jungkook takes himself out of his trance. “Oh, uh, nothing.” He gives you a hesitant smile. He’s actually thinking of asking you about the thing you said earlier. But right now, as he looks at you again, he finds himself a bit reluctant. “I’ll shower now.”

You look at him weird and Jungkook chuckles as he leans down to kiss you again.

When you break the contact, going over to his closet where a huge portion of your own clothes have already made its own way to, Jungkook thinks that maybe he’ll bring it up when he finishes showering.

But as he steps back out of the shower ten minutes later, you’re already sprawled across the bed with your nightie on.

And as Jungkook steps closer to you, you’re fast asleep, soft snores coming out of your mouth, pretty and peaceful in your slumber.

Jungkook smiles at the sight.

Tomorrow. He’ll bring it up tomorrow instead.

In the morning when Jungkook woke up, he didn't find you in his arms like he expected to. And when he looked through the notifications on his phone, your text told him that you already went for your 10 am class. Jungkook’s first one is at 2:30 in the afternoon.

He intended to take you out for lunch in the afternoon, but when he called you, you said you had a meeting with your club and you’d only be free in the evening onwards.

At 9:30pm, when all of Jungkook’s classes have ended, he sent you a text again, hoping you’d be free by the time.

One whole day of not seeing your face and he was starting to feel a little on edge.

[9:31pm] Jungkook: hi baby classes ended [9:31pm] Jungkook: hru i havent seen u at all today

Jungkook couldn’t help but send another one.

[9:32pm] Jungkook: i missed u. can i come over?

At that point, he was already over at the uni’s parking lot, going to the direction of his car and unlocking it when he got near. When he buckled himself into the driver’s seat, he hoped to see a reply from you.

But nothing came.

When he arrived home at the end of the day, he took a quick half-bath and ate some leftovers in the fridge.

As of now, as he settles himself onto his bed, he scrolls through your text thread, the Delivered button on his last text taunting him the longer he looks at it.

With furrowed brows, he begins to type up another message but then soon, the Delivered stamp changes to Read, and the three dancing dots on your end play on his screen, which somehow lightens his mood.

[10:45pm] princess🥰💓: Hello, Kook! So sorry for the late reply. I got caught up with classes and the long meeting with the club today [10:46pm] princess🥰💓: We apparently have to push the fall edition of the print a week earlier and I also have to revise some stuff in my thesis so I’m a bit tight on sched

Jungkook nods to himself upon reading the text message, feeling bad for you.

[10:47pm] Jungkook: ohh ic ic [10:47pm] Jungkook: do u want me to bring u food?

[10:48pm] princess🥰💓: Like, youre coming over?

[10:48pm] Jungkook: yeahh [10:48pm] Jungkook: if u want

Jungkook waits as the bubbles appear and disappear on your end, until he receives your final reply.

[10:50pm] princess🥰💓: Hmm I appreciate it but Im over at Hana’s right now. Club stuff. And then I’ll go home later to work on my paper

Pouting, Jungkook sighs as he reads your message. He really wants to see you today… he misses your pretty face and your voice and your touch.

But he doesn’t really want to push. You’re very anal about your personal space, especially when it relates to your academics.

Letting out another heavy sigh again, he tells you to give him a call when you’re at your place.

He doesn't receive any.

“Hey,”

“What the—” You see the librarian from across the room immediately eyeing you with a deadly stare. Mouthing a shameful “sorry”, you clutch your chest, turning to the embodied voice again properly this time. Only to get taken aback. “Oh hey… hi.”

Jungkook stands in front of you and he looks so… handsome – nothing new or groundbreaking, per se. He always looks like that. With only a simple combo of grey hoodie and black cargo pants, his backpack slung over one shoulder, he can probably outmodel professionals on the runway. Though, the way he looks so comfy is making you want nothing but to snuggle him.

“Busy day?” He asks, pertaining to the laptop and stack of books on your table. Placing his bag on the floor underneath the table, he takes the seat beside you.

“Yeah… I'm writing an essay right now.” You offer him a small smile. It feels like you haven't seen each other for weeks, but the truth is, it's just been over two days since you were at his place.

“I see. Do you mind me here?”

“Nope. You can do whatever you want.”

"Can I kiss you then?" He asks and that makes you pause.

Looking around, you take note that there aren’t a lot of people in the library anymore as it’s already late. There’s the librarian a few feet away from you, but he’s currently busy doing something on his computer. With a quiet chuckle, you face Jungkook and say, “Do you need to ask?”

Jungkook shrugs, already leaning towards you. “I just feel like it.”

“It's fine, Kook.” you turn your head to him, and he does not waste any second, closing the gap between you both and capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss.

You sigh in his mouth. You miss him so much and he smells so good it calms your insides. You've been stressing over the essay you’re writing, but all that seems to die down as a result from the exchange with Jungkook.

God, you really need to talk to him.

“Missed you.” He says once your faces are apart. He pecks your lips one more time for good measure and gives you that adorable bunny smile of his.

“We saw each other, like, two days ago.” You chuckle, making sure to muffle the sound.

Scooting his chair closer to you, Jungkook whines in your ear, “Too long.” When you look at his face, there's a small hint of pout on his lips.

“Well, we're here now.”

“Really?” Jungkook raises his brow. “Then let's get out of here. You can write your essay at my place and I'll cook you dinner and then we can binge watch the third season of Twin Peaks.”

“You haven't even started on the first season, why are you watching the third.” You say with an incredulous tone.

“Doesn't matter.”

It does matter.

Jungkook has driven you both to his place. When he turned on his TV, you told him you can just start Twin Peaks all over again so he can understand what he's watching, but he insisted that he was gonna know the context eventually – fast forward, he did not. So here he currently is, asking you who everybody is and what’s the context of what they’re saying, and as much as you love his company, people posing questions after questions while watching something will never not be a pet peeve of yours.

“Baby,” you start. Jungkook looks at you with doe eyes. You cup his face and stare at him seriously. “You're annoying me.”

He lets out a gasp.

A literal, audible gasp.

“That hurt. Please tell me you're joking.” Jungkook says that, but you can see the playful glint in his eyes as you squint yours at him.

He made you bulgogi and you both devoured the last of it five minutes ago – and you're thankful for his kindness and generosity but god—

You push on his chest lightly. “Then stop asking. I told you we can just watch the first season but then you want to jump into the last one, of course you're gonna be confused.”

“Yeah but you already watched all of it. I didn't want you to get bored.” Jungkook pouts. You stare at him for a while and you kind of hate that he’s so handsome and so cute at the same time it makes it hard for you to completely be annoyed with him.

There's a fond look on your face when you roll your eyes again. Scooting closer to him on the couch, you plant a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You're really sweet, Kook, but why don't we just watch a movie or something.”

He leans down to kiss your mouth. “Alright. You pick the movie and I'll go grab some chips from the pantry.”

You smile at him before he disappears to fetch some food, leaving you to browse through the catalog. When he returns shortly, you muse, “You're really nice and sweet to me today. What's up?”

Jungkook scoffs, as if offended by what you said. “Am I not nice and sweet every other day?”

“That's not what I meant. You're just extra sweet and extra nice tonight— I mean, you usually put up a fight on who picks the movies.”

“I let you win every time though?” He says and you nod in thought.

“True.” Looking back to the television, you hover over the Notting Hill poster. Thinking that the description sounds interesting, you click on it. As the movie loads, you turn your gaze to Jungkook and nudge his leg. “But still…”

He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Gathering your feet on his lap, he leans back and retorts, “I just missed you so much. Is that bad?”

You don't anticipate the way he lifts one of your legs, holding your ankle up and then putting a kiss on it.

It makes blood rush to your cheeks. With his mussed hair and the grey hoodie and cargo pants from earlier changed into a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants, he looks comfy you just want to jump him and bite him and kiss him all at the same time.

Damn. He really makes you feel a whole lot of things you're starting to think you need an intervention.

You’ve never been so attracted to somebody before. It may be because you know you’re past the point of being just attracted to him.

And then there’s that beat in your heart again. The flip-flopping and the weird feeling in your stomach.

You look away from his intense gaze. “No.”

You hear him let out a low chuckle, a sound so attractive you feel the hair on every part of your body standing up.

“Come here.” he puts your legs away from his lap, much to your little disappointment. But he beckons you to come close to him, and so you do, leaving your lying position from the couch to go over to where he is. You don't know whether you're gonna place yourself beside him or what, but he beats you to it as he takes your thighs and guides you to straddle him.

You do so without any words, following his lead. You feel heat creeping up your neck when you finally land on his lap, his arms circling around you.

“Why do you still smell like flowers even after a whole day?” It's followed with him sniffing the juncture between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You flinch 'cause it tickles a little. He always does and says that shit and you can't help but laugh, always not knowing what to say to that. But Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your input, anyway.

He squeezes your body, hugging you tighter to him.

“I really missed you, you know?”

You giggle. “Yeah, you said that the third time now.”

“You're keeping count but why can't you just say you miss me too?” He pulls away, making sure to face you so you see the pout on his face.

You peck his lips. “That's because I don't.” You joke, earning a glare.

“Wow, first you say I'm annoying and now you apparently didn't miss me?” You're sure he's joking but the frown on his face makes you think that maybe somewhere in his head, he's thinking otherwise.

You smile at him. “I was just kidding, Kook. Of course I missed you too. And thank you for the food.” You say against his lips, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Does that mean you’re done avoiding me now?”

Breaking away from the kiss, you look at him in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“What?” you say, confused.

Jungkook arches a brow. You both stare into each other’s eyes but then his gets way too intense that you can’t help but look away. That’s when you hear him sigh.

“Baby, talk to me.” Jungkook cups your jaw with his palm, gently directing your face towards his. “I don’t like when we don’t talk. You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? Is it something I can fix?”

Hearing his words makes your heart melt and your brain turn into mush. Is it something I can fix? Jesus.

How can you not fall for him when he says things like that?

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks when you don’t say a thing.

That earns him an instant, aggressive shake of your head.

“No, Jungkook. You didn’t do anything wrong, not at all,” you say, planting your palms on his shoulders to assure him. You see the slight hint of smile on the curve of his lips. “It’s, uh, it’s me…” you trail off, not sure how to navigate your next words. You take note of the way Jungkook’s eyebrows meet in confusion. “I’ve just been… feeling weird lately.”

At that, his confusion grows even more, but it’s more out of concern instead of perplexity.

“What’s wrong, angel? You don’t feel okay?” He says, caressing your face as if he’ll find the issue there. He looks so willing to just get you to okay and it makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

“No– I mean, I feel okay. It’s not that,” you shake your head, shy at his doting. When he waits for your next words, you can’t help but bury your face in the crook of his neck as you say— more like whisper— against his skin, “I told you I love you the other day.”

You feel Jungkook stilling under you. And it makes you nervous. Heart racing against your ribcage, you can’t find it in yourself to break away from your hold on him because that would mean you have to look into his eyes – and you don’t want to. Your cheeks feel so hot and you feel like throwing up. Your emotions are all over the place and Jungkook’s prolonged silence isn’t helping at all.

But suddenly, those thoughts die down when you feel him relaxing underneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist. You feel a weight on the crown of your head and with a gentle rub on your back, Jungkook whispers against your hair, “I love you, too.”

That makes you instantly look up from him. When you see his face, his lips are curved into a soft smile.

With furrowed brows, you voice out your concern.

“You don’t need to say it back just ‘cause I told you that.”

Now, it’s Jungkook’s turn to be confused.

“I’m not saying it just ‘cause you said it, baby.” He looks so sincere and for a moment, you feel bad for doubting him for a second. Jungkook must’ve noticed the look on your face as he cups your jaw again, angling it towards him. You feel his smile against your mouth when he presses his lips to yours. “I'm in love with you, __. I have been for the past few months now.”

Your eyes widen a bit when he calls you by your name.

Jungkook has always liked calling you by every endearing pet name in the world that you’re lowkey convinced he forgot your real name at this point, but when the sweet syllable rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but melt.

He doesn’t seem to notice your surprise, though. Just breaks away from the contact you’re both engaged in and he takes your wrist in his hand, lifting it to his face to kiss the skin on the side of your palm.

The action was so momentary and brief but it doesn’t deter the fact that it made your heart jump.

You think it’s funny how you feel so much whenever he’s around. You think it’s funny that you feel so giddy – even after all this time.

You think it’s funny that before the whole thing started, you’ve never considered this ever happening but here you are, completely elated over the fact that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook and he feels the same way too.

“You have?” You say, voice quiet. He nods, humming, leaning to your palm when you put it over his cheek. “Since when?”

“The first time we went to that abandoned house.”

Your lips part at the declaration. That was… that happened so long ago. Nearly four months from the present.

“That long?” You blink a few times at him, not really sure how to react to that confession.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your thumb again. You like how his instinct is to always have a form of physical contact with you whenever you’re around. You don’t know if he knows that himself, but you’ve definitely observed that for the past few months you’ve been “exclusively” seeing each other and it just… absolutely melts you.

“I know… I’m a bit of a coward for not telling you sooner. But I didn’t want to scare you off.” Jungkook says admittedly, and his last sentence makes your heart twinge.

He didn’t want to scare you off. Of course he’d think that. You had a total breakdown at the prospect of him opening up to you just four months ago – before you told him you liked him.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “I— yeah. I was in my head over the past two days, you know?”

Jungkook’s face etches into a look of concern. “Hm?”

Nodding your head slowly, you find comfort in tracing random shapes and lines on his chest instead.

“These feelings… they’re not new. I didn’t just wake up one day and realized I love you. I felt it during the time when we woke up together in bed for the first time at your place. I felt it when you drove three hours from your parents’ house to my dorm just ‘cause I told you I missed you. I felt it when you stayed up late with me just so you could help me make my flash cards. I—” you look away, suddenly embarrassed at what you’re saying. It’s not like you to say so much. Not like you to show and voice out this extent of your emotion. “I remember the times I felt I loved you for the briefest of moments in the past three months, but lately, I can't stop thinking about it and suddenly, I can’t count on my fingers anymore how many times I felt I love you. I loved you every hour of last week and yesterday I loved you even more.”

You watch as Jungkook looks at you with parted lips. Awe-struck? You don’t want to hype yourself up too much. So you look away, keeping your eyes focused on his white shirt.

“And what about today?” Jungkook suddenly speaks.

You free your bottom lip from your teeth and finally look Jungkook in the eyes. “I love you more than I did yesterday. And tomorrow I’ll do the same.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook utters, bowing his head. His tone's a mix of incredulity, amusement, and joy at the same time. When he looks up at you again, he looks at you with so much sparkle in his eyes you’re starting to think you’re a fool for not noticing earlier the love they hold for you in them. “I just… wow.”

Your eyebrows meet in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “I just… I had this huge confession in my head, you know? I– uh– I wrote it in my notes app.”

Suddenly, the serious atmosphere breaks as you can’t help but laugh. “What?”

With a small pout, Jungkook continues, “I’m not good with words, you know that. So, I had this big confession planned out. I was gonna tell you in detail how much I love you, but after hearing what you just said… I forgot about everything I tried to memorize last night.”

Now you’re giggling in his lap. Just trying to visualize him typing on his phone while figuring out what to say to you and him studying it, memorizing the lines…

You're so glad it's him you fell for.

“Don’t laugh,” he scolds, but there's a hint of playfulness that lies underneath it. Jungkook inserts his hand under your shirt and starts rubbing the skin of your waist. “Truth is that I was afraid when you started avoiding me. Thought I’d lose you again.”

His vulnerable confession makes you stop completely. There’s a certain melancholy in his eyes when he mentions it, and you feel like scolding yourself for even causing that.

“What I did wasn’t the most mature way to go about it. I’m sorry,” you start. Sighing, you adjust yourself on his lap to get more comfortable. “Uh… I guess I was just embarrassed and wanted to have time to compose myself.”

“What were you embarrassed for?”

There’s heat that spreads to your cheeks. For a brief second, you consider lying, but then you remember honesty. It’s what got you both here. Just being open to each other and communicating.

“Jungkook, no one wants their first I love you said during sex.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” He blinks.

At that, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Exactly.”

“What’s wrong with that, though?” Jungkook furrows his brows. But his tone borders on teasing when he continues, “You know what they say? Make a girl cum one and she’ll love you, make a girl cum twice and she’ll actually tell you she loves you.”

“Oh my god.” you groan, jabbing at his chest slightly and taking off your legs off the couch so that you stop straddling him.

Jungkook bursts into laughter and is quick to grab your waist, effectively pulling you back to him again. It results in you falling haphazardly into his lap, which he takes as an opportunity to cage you in a hug and guide you on your back to hover on top of you.

“I’m kidding, baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “I’m kidding.”

You inhale a sharp breath when he starts kissing along your jaw. “Good.”

“I really appreciate you for saying all those things. I wish I can be as eloquent as you,” He tips your jaw with his fingers so that you look at him. “You’re a poet, __.”

That makes you smile. You secretly like when he calls you by all these petnames... but the way your name rolls of his tongue just hits a lot more different.

“As long as you love me back, Kook.” you say, pushing his bangs off his forehead so that you can look at his face wholly.

“I love you.” He confesses, kissing your lips.

“I love you too.” you smile.

Jungkook pecks your lips one more time and suddenly follows it up with another one. Soon, you’re a giggling mess underneath him on the couch when he keeps it up until it tickles.

“Jungkook,” you whine, wriggling under him and avoiding his mouth.

This only makes Jungkook chuckle in the crook of your neck, halting his cute assault on your lips. When the high of the laughter comes off, you feel a wet trail of kisses down to the base of your neck, and suddenly, Jungkook’s hands are under your shirt, rubbing along the bare skin of your waist. While he peppers open-mouthed pecks on your neck, his fingers trail upwards until they’re on your bare tits.

“Oh,” you let out a low moan when his palm squeezes around the flesh.

It earns a groan from Jungkook, who presses himself closer to you. And it’s when you feel the growing need on his crotch area – his dick poking your stomach as he stays lapping up your neck.

“Jungkook,” you call him again. It takes Jungkook a few seconds to look up at you. When he does, his long hair is a mess on his head and his eyes are hooded in that drunken-like state, lips wet from his previous ministrations.

“Hm?” He hums, gives both your boobs a good squeeze again, making you sigh out. Jungkook continues to touch you, fondling your breasts in his hand as he starts kissing up your jaw instead.

“I want you.” you whisper against the air, closing your eyes at the sensation of his touch.

He feels so good on you. You want to take off your stupid clothes.

“Shit,” Jungkook hisses, giving an involuntary thrust against your crotch that made you both groan. “Fuck. I want you, too, baby— god, let me just—”

You whine when he breaks away from you, but you watch in awe as he makes quick work of kneeling in between your legs, peeling off the white shirt from his body with one arm from the back in a swift motion. He throws it on the floor and swipes his hair out of his face, and in that brief moment, with his toned abdomen and inked arm, you nearly melt.

“Can I take off your shorts?” He asks, but he already has his fingers hooked over the bottom you’ve changed into when you got into his apartment. Giving him a nod, you help him in taking off the garment by lifting your bum off the sofa. Jungkook, ever the expert in the art of taking off your clothes, does it quick, the shorts landing on the floor together with his shirt, forming a small heap. Bottoming out, he takes your thighs in the crook of his elbows and scoot your body closer to his. The angle is a bit awkward from where you lie, and Jungkook makes your cheeks burn when he turns his head to the side to kiss your knee. “So beautiful, baby. Your legs are so smooth.”

“Stop talking,” you say, embarrassed.

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, already used to it. His face leans even closer and soon he has the tip of his nose on your panty-cladded core. Like clockwork, he takes a subtle sniff, closing his eyes for a little while at the scent, gripping your thighs tighter at the action.

If you weren’t a heating mess before, you’re near on combustion now. Surely, Jungkook knows what this does to you.

“You smell so good. Such a pretty girl,” he grunts. Then, he presses a kiss to your pussy which makes your breath hitch.

“Jungkook,” you let out a whine for the nth time. “Don’t tease.”

He shushes you out, clicking his tongue as if you did something wrong.

You capture your bottom lip in your teeth. Jungkook cups your jaw so you can look at him when he says, “Be patient, princess. I’ll give you what you want. Always.” His voice is gentle and soft, and you know he means it.

Still, you give him a pout.

“I wanna fuck.”

He chuckles, low and sounding so attractive when he brings his fingers through his hair again. It doesn’t help that you can clearly see the outline of his dick getting bigger inside his grey sweats. Damn those joggers for real.

“Okay,” Jungkook smiles down at you. “Take your shirt off.”

You make quick work of removing your shirt off to reveal your naked body to him. At this point, only your underwear and his pants are the only things keeping you apart.

As usual, Jungkook zeroes in on your body instantly, paying the most attention to your tits. According to him, they’re two of his most favorite things in the world and as much as you’d like to call bullshit on that, it really does seem like he’s not joking about it at all.

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook brings your legs down gently, sliding on top of your body and hovering as he quickly fondles your boobs with his huge palms. “Fuck, you’re so soft.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cleavage. Not wasting any more time, he latches his tongue around a nipple, and you automatically hold onto his head for support when the sensation nearly knocks you off the couch.

Despite that little movement from you, Jungkook continues to lap at your breasts. Licking and tugging at your nipple to get it hard, paying attention to the other one by pinching it and simultaneously squeezing. As seconds pass, Jungkook alternates between your breasts, and as he does so, you feel your core starting to heat up, your need growing bigger.

“B-baby,” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter which makes him grunt. “I want you.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers against your skin. You’re about to whine some more when Jungkook finally leaves your chest to pepper kisses down your stomach. When he gets near your nether region, he guides your legs to hook over his shoulder. “These gotta go.” He says about your panties, and you’re more than willing to help him take it off you.

The moment it's no longer on you, Jungkook hisses at the sight, head leaning down to finally plant his mouth on your pussy.

The first lick feels ecstatic just like it always does. With Jungkook lapping up a big stripe over the length of your core, you keep your bucking to a minimum, holding onto his hair instead.

“Taste so fucking good, I can never get enough of you,” he says before he dives in again. Jungkook has this thing when he eats pussy. He always does it like he’s making out with your mouth, his tongue prodding at every seams, wrapping your labia around his lips and being messy with it.

Jungkook breaks away for a while as you hear a sound of spit, followed by the cold sensation of his saliva dripping down to your hole. Soon, you feel Jungkook’s thumb beginning to rub your clit, resulting in a ragged breathing from your lungs.

“F-fuck,” you moan, tightening your hold on his hair you’re sure you’re pulling on his scalp.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. So sensitive,” Jungkook says as he picks up the pace of his thumb. “Ain’t that right, pretty girl? All for me, right? This is all for me, hm?”

“Y-yes!” you squeak out when you feel him prodding his tongue at your entrance again. His finger is fast against your sensitive bud, with his tongue lapping up the juices that eagerly come out of your hole. Jungkook makes out with your pussy like he would with your mouth, and with the tip of his nose touching your skin at this proximity, you can't say you’re not close to the edge. And embarrassingly so – because he’s just gotten started and you already feel like cumming.

“Sh–shit,” Jungkook hisses. He shifts his thumb with his tongue this time in stimulating your clit, using two fingers instead to stretch your pussy out open just so he can see the way it throbs and flutters at his every action. It’s a sinful sight, really, the way you’re so open and wet for him.

Soon after, Jungkook’s getting a little more aggressive in the way he pushes his head closer to your core, jaw working to devour your mound, two digits inserting themselves in your aching hole that somehow satisfies your need to be filled at the very moment.

And you’re a panting mess beneath him – trying so hard to muffle the moans from your mouth. Jungkook’s gotten a total of three noise complaints for the past 4 months you’ve been fucking at his place – and even though he tells you not to worry, you find that it’s hard to believe when the one time that you got to ride in the elevator with his neighbor, she looked at you both like she knew you’ve done something.

Never again.

As if having read your thoughts, Jungkook breaks away for a while to say, “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours.”

Your cheeks burn with heat as you see his wet jaw and plump lips when you glance down. When your gazes meet, Jungkook inserts his middle and ring fingers in his mouth, and when he pops them back out all wet with his saliva, he pushes them into your hole, lax in his movements, looking right into your eyes as he does so.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, holding onto his wrist automatically when he pumps his digits into you faster than his pace earlier.

“There,” Jungkook smirks. “Moan for me, angel.”

“J-jungkook– oh my god– ah–!”

Jungkook goes back to leaning his head down and soon enough, his mouth is back on your pussy, simultaneously sucking your clit and licking around your labia, all the whole sliding his fingers in and out of you, you can feel yourself dripping down the leather of his couch.

“Fuck,” you sigh out, suddenly feeling overstimulated.

Jungkook picks up his pace and you feel a sting on the sides of your eyes as the pleasure begins to build up. Your hold on his wrist falls off and as if he knows exactly what you’re looking for, he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlocking your fingers together as you see him look up at you while he eats you out.

“Oh god,” you mewl, reaching down with your other arm to swipe his fringes off his forehead so you can see him better.

Jungkook stares intently at you as you do the same watching him licking your core enthusiastically. You let your head fall back at a particularly delicious lick, and soon after, you feel that familiar zap that starts on your toes that goes right up to your stomach.

“K-kook,” you call pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat. It feels somewhat dry at this point. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit, saying, “I’m cumming.”

Jungkook keeps his movements of your pussy, not relenting even when you grab his hair a little too tight, and you feel like you’re breaking off his fingers’ joints by the way you’re gripping it so hard.

“I’m cum– there, fuck, that feels so good– I’m cumming!”

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy when it does so. You hear Jungkook groaning in between your legs, his licking becoming more messy as you feel him use three fingers to rub over your core like a greedy man wanting everything to be his.

“Jungkook…” you sigh out, your fingers easing their hold onto his, already feeling sensitive after your release. You look down at Jungkook only to see the crown of his head as keeps lapping up your wetness. He hums in your pussy and you know you can’t keep him off there for awhile so you wait, running your fingers through his hair soothingly, feeling bad for almost ripping it out awhile ago. “Kook, I’m sensitive.”

“Hm.” He hums to acknowledge you. He licks one last stripe before he lets go, easing off your thighs on the sofa and trailing kisses on your stomach and breasts until he’s eye level to you. “Love how you taste,” he says, kissing you, and your cheeks burn with heat when you feel your orgasm off his mouth. When he breaks the kiss, he looks at you with a smile you can only identify as lovesick. “I love you.”

That makes you melt.

You thought it would feel weird to hear him say it. But you think about the future and how there would be more like this, with Jungkook telling you he loves you in more shared random moments and you can’t help but mirror the smile he has on his stupid handsome face.

“I love you.” you say, initiating another kiss.

When Jungkook presses his body to you, that’s when you feel his cock poking into your stomach. You assume he’s even more rock hard now, given the previous events.

Sneakily inserting your hand between your bodies, you try to reach for the bulge in his pants and when you take a hold of his dick, Jungkook grunts.

“Babe,” he whines and breaks away from your lips and buries his face in the crook of your neck instead.

“It’s completely unfair how you still have your pants on while I’m completely naked.” You say, palming him through his sweats. You feel Jungkook tense above you, and when you give him a particularly hard squeeze, he retaliates with a bite on your shoulder that makes you squeal. “What the hell was that for?”

“For teasing me,” Jungkook says, finally looking at you. He grabs your arm, kisses the side of your wrist before he hauls himself off you completely, planting his feet on the floor while you lay there on the couch bare and cold. But that doesn’t last long as you feel him picking you up with ease — bridal style.

“Jesus,” you bury your face in his chest out of embarrassment. You’re all naked and he’s carrying you towards his bedroom in this ridiculous position.

Meanwhile, Jungkook just laughs and as he reaches his bedroom, he closes the door lightly with his foot.

“I’m not done with you yet,” He says when he puts you down on the mattress. He has that smarmy smirk on his face as he gets out of his grey sweatpants slowly. You’ve had the inkling he wasn’t wearing any underwear considering that it felt like there was not that much of a barrier when you held them there earlier – but it still takes your breath away when he’s left completely in his naked form, stiff and red-tipped cock standing to attention in his lower abdomen. Arching a brow at you, he trudges over to the edge of the bed and with the deep timbre of his voice, he calls you, “Scoot over here, love.”

The new endearment definitely catches you off guard. Love. Is that something he’s gonna be calling you from now on?

You definitely don’t mind.

You follow his instructions and let your body move closer towards the bottom, making Jungkook hum in approval.

“That’s a good girl.” Suddenly, Jungkook yanks your legs to his direction and you gasp in surprise, only to realize the position you’re both in.

He’s standing right over the edge of the bed while he guides your legs to rest over his shoulders.

Jungkook and you have tried a lot of positions since you established your thing, but surprisingly, this has never been one of them and you find yourself curious as to what he’ll do next.

His tattooed bicep flexes as he trails his finger up your naked thighs, making the hairs on your body tingle, especially your pussy which is all bare for his own viewing. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you watch as Jungkook turns his head to the side, and a gasp catches in your throat when he begins kissing up your calf. When his mouth nears your toes, you nearly yank it out of his hold.

“K-kook,” you stammer, but all Jungkook does is pay you a momentary look and a non-committal hum, turning back to your feet again where he presses a tentative kiss to your big toe. When he feels you wriggle it in his hold once again, he turns to you with furrowed brows. You look away. “It’s uhm…”

When you don’t say anything, Jungkook fills you in. “You don’t like it?”

You feel your cheeks burning even hotter. Fucking hell.

“No– I mean. Uh. I don’t know?” You knit your brows, confused yourself. You’ve never really thought about dabbling into the more adventurous aspect of sex but Jungkook has changed that ever since – right now, though, what he’s trying to do is confusing you. You’re sure you’ve never thought about feet and sex at the same sentence – but when Jungkook kissed your toes, that might have—

Oh god. No freaking way he’s trying to give you a foot kink.

“That’s okay,” Jungkook smiles at you warmly. “I was just gonna kiss them, baby. I love every part of you—” he presses a kiss back to your calf again. Staring deep into your eyes, he tells you gently, “But I’m not gonna do anything you don’t and won’t like, love.”

It seems like the new unlocked petname is doing all things because you could just feel the sudden gush of wetness coming out of you as soon as he said that. Jungkook must’ve noticed, paying a quick look to your pussy and scoffing in amusement as he sees it.

“You like that? Love? Hm?” He caresses your thighs again, his other fingers trailing dangerously close to your core. “Seems like me calling you love gets you wet. What about I love you? Does it get you wet just like how it gets me hard when you say it as well?”

When Jungkook presses his thumb to your clit again, you moan, feeling him continue his ministrations. You hold your breath when he begins picking up the pace of his rubbing, and with your position, it gives you an opportunity to spread your legs even more, feeling Jungkook hiss at the action.

“Fuck. You really are so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky you love me,” Jungkook says. He talks sweet but you hear a sound of spit coming from him to your pussy, his saliva dripping down your core, making you mewl. “I’m gonna make love to you all night. Show you how much I love you.” Jungkook whispers as he pushes a finger into your hole, sliding in and out. “Look at what you do to me, love.”

You open your eyes to see what he’s talking about, and when you zero in on his cock, it impossibly became bigger, the tip an angry shade of red now. It looks so tight and rigid and veiny that you want to whine to touch it – but you decide to lay still, anticipating his next move.

“Put it in me,” you say, sounding challenging.

“I will, just gotta make sure you’re all ready.” Jungkook muses before he inserts his finger once again. It glides in pretty easily, and you’re sure that you’re more than ready to take his cock.

Grunting, Jungkook pulls you closer and lets go of one of your thighs to grip his dick. He gives it a good squeeze twice before he puts it against the lips of your pussy.

“Oh god,” you moan at the weight of him.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses. You know he’s feeling the exact same way you do.

When he prods the tip at your entrance, you nearly squeal in delight. Instead, you grip the sheets behind you and look at the way Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration as he grips the base of his cock to enter you fully.

You both moan in unison when the first inch gets inserted, with Jungkook gripping your other thigh tighter and inhaling a sharp breath. Jungkook enters you slowly and arduously, like he’s savoring every second that your pussy swallows every part of his cock.

“You– fuck– you love a big cock but you’re so fucking tight,” He groans as he begins to slide in the remaining inches, getting both your thighs together again.

“It’s your fault,” you retaliate, hissing when he begins to move a little inside you. It doesn’t hurt the least bit – you were already way too wet from your first orgasm on the couch of his living room – but in this position, his cock feels deeper and it just feels so damn good.

“How is it– shit– my fault?” Jungkook grunts, beginning to pick up his pace. “I fuck you almost everyday.”

“Oh god—” you moan when he hits a little too deep at a particular thrust. “You’re so big, that’s why– fuck.”

“Hah.” Jungkook scoffs, bottoming out to enter you again. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Fuck, I love them so much.”

You grab your breasts, thankful at the suggestion because they’re bouncing a little from his pounding and you’re sure they’re gonna be sore the next day.

Needless to say, Jungkook likes what he sees as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you at a steady, slow pace.

There are two sides to Jungkook when it comes to sex. Sometimes, he likes to do it fast with jackhammer thrusts that makes you question his stamina and strength – not rough, because he told you you’re too much of a pillow princess for that (you rolled your eyes at him so hard and he only laughed at you, telling you it’s actually because he didn’t like the thought of hurting you in any way), and you admittedly love that. It’s what got the words “I love you” out of your mouth in the first place. Intense fucking coupled with intense emotions are a combination you now realize is dangerous – but right now, as he pounds into you slowly, making you feel every ridge of his cock, you realize it’s your favorite.

There’s something so intimate about the way Jungkook closes his eyes when he seemingly tries his very best to contain his strength as he enters you with his dick. It’s weirdly hot when he inhales a sharp breath to regulate his breathing, brows furrowed in concentration. Like this, you get to feel every moment of where you both started and where you end.

And when Jungkook leans down on the bed, folding you in half at the action, his dick hits deeper as he plants his palms on the mattress, is cock continuing their ministrations in your cunt.

He grunts in your hair, grabbing your breast and squeezing it hard in his palm which earns a moan from you. Jungkook looks at you and kisses your parted mouth.

“I love you,” he says when he breaks away, kissing your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. And then the space between your eyebrows. “I love you so much.”

You giggle. In the middle of sex. When his cock is snug deep in your pussy.

“You’re a sap.” you can’t help but cup his face in your hand, grinning at him widely.

“Where’s my– shit– I love you back?” Jungkook knits his brows, thrusting in and out of you still. He grips your hip with one hand, and there are balls of sweat on his forehead starting to form at the exertion from his body.

“Of course I love you too, baby,” You say. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any more second and leans down to capture your lips into an open-mouthed kiss. You don’t break away until his hips stutter, indicating his impending orgasm.

He’s usually the one who whispers all those sweet nothings in your ear when you’re on the brink of your climax, but this time around, you tell him how much you love his cock, how it’s made for you, and how much you want to keep making love to him all night – and that’s how he breaks.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans as he shoots his hot white orgasm inside you, his voice strained as he finishes off with a few more erratic thrusts. “Oh god.”

“That’s it, Kook, cum for me,” you whisper against his lips, your legs already sliding off his shoulder. You can’t help but moan against his mouth when you feel him cumming more.

“I love you, angel.” Jungkook says and kisses you again.

You reciprocate the kiss and hope he feels the smile you have on your lips.

You don’t really expect to cum again – but then Jungkook suddenly palms your ass and taps both cheeks.

“Cum for me a second time.” He says, pecking the side of your lips.

You shake your head. As much as you’d love to, you feel like you’re actually about to break tonight.

“It’s fine—”

But Jungkook cuts you off quickly. “Please?”

And how can you say now when he looks like… that? His sex afterglow puts every man in the movies to shame. And you’re just human prone to giving in – especially when it comes to him specifically.

“Okay.” You say, tapping his cheek with a smile. “How do you want me?”

“Want you to ride me.” He whispers. “Wanna see your pretty eyes while you’re bouncing on my cock.”

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words.

Jabbing at his chest lightly, you roll your eyes at him and let him get off you to position himself against the headboard of the bed. Jungkook grins when you soon plant your folded legs on both sides of him, helping you put his still erect dick inside your still sopping wet pussy.

You both hiss at the sensation, with you closing your eyes at the way he feels. Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t waste any second and dives into your breasts immediately, tugging and sucking at your nipples, squeezing and fondling at the flesh, and moaning when you begin to move up and down on his lap.

“S-so good,” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, fumbling with the hair on his nape.

“That’s it, love. Doing so well.” He leaves your breasts in favor of your jaw, peppering kisses there until he makes a stop at your lips again. Jungkook finds solace in holding your hips as you move on your own, and as he watches your closed eyes and parted mouth, he leans back to the headboard, looking at the image of you at the very moment – wishing he could burn it into memory.

“My god– ah—” You begin to speed up your pace, concentrating on the way Jungkook’s cock seemingly hardens at your every drop and fall.

Soon after, you feel Jungkook sneaking his hands in your pussy, and when you plant one of your palms on the mattress leaning back, Jungkook rubs your clit to help you reach your climax.

You feel yourself leaking on him from both your orgasms in your pussy earlier, and at the thought of that, you feel another wave of ecstasy that snaps in the bottom part of your stomach.

“Oh my fucking god.”

You bury your face in Jungkook’s neck the moment you cum, breathing erratically against his skin.

“You did so well, baby,” Jungkook kisses your hair, caressing your head lovingly. “I love you.”

Humming, you let your body fall lax against his, feeling like your bones just lost all its joints, unable to move. Thankfully, there’s Jungkook to take care of that. When you refused to move, he teases you about being a baby and carries you to the bathroom instead where he tells you to pee while he prepares the shower for the both of you.

Minutes later when you’re both done cleaning yourselves, you lay in Jungkook’s bed beside each other. Or more like, you lean almost all of your weight on top of him, your legs and arms wrapped around his body with Jungkook’s arms underneath your neck, serving as your pillow.

“I think I just unlocked a new kink.” Jungkook says, alternating between kissing your forehead and caressing your head.

“You discover one, like, everyday.” You tell him, eyes shut closed. You’re starting to feel sleepy from everything you did tonight.

Jungkook snorts. “Fair. But for the record, nothing beats this new kink of mine.”

“What is it?”

“The I love you kink.”

Even if you can’t exactly see him, you’re sure he has that stupid cute bunny grin on his face.

Chuckling, you say, “God, you really are so corny.”

“Hey, can a boyfriend not be turned on when his girlfriend says she loves him?”

At that, you freeze. Jungkook must’ve noticed because he stops caressing your head. You move away from his chest and lean on your elbow so you can look down at him.

“We’re girlfriend and boyfriend now?” You ask with knitted brows.

Jungkook looks just as confused. “I mean… yeah?”

“Oh.” You nod. Looking to the other side of the room, you ponder, “Well, that makes sense.”

Jungkook looks offended when your gaze falls back to him again. “What do you mean that makes sense? We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend since you told me you liked me.”

“You told me you liked me too,” You roll your eyes. “But… really? You think that?”

Now, Jungkook’s pouting.

“Wait, you didn’t think we were boyfriend and girlfriend all these months?”

“Eh…” You think about the past four months since you both established an exclusive relationship with each other. You’ve always thought it was just this unlabeled thing. But apparently… “I guess we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I literally introduced you to my friends as my girlfriend last month, though?” Jungkook asks.

You jut your bottom lip out. “I have no idea.”

He sighs. “Forget about it.”

“It’s okay. I love you.” You say, blinking at him.

Jungkook visibly melts at that.

“I think you just found a new way to get away with anything…” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

You snicker and cheekily press a quick kiss to his lips.

There haven't been a lot of people who have come to your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect Jeon Jungkook to be one if it – not at all. But what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

Meanwhile, Jungkook thinks the same as he caresses your hair, staring at your serene face while you sleep in his arms, thinking it couldn’t get any better than this.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: cnbl #cnbl drabbles

2K notes · View notes

okay-j-hannah · 2 months ago

Text

The Kickstart | Smosh 💛

Smosh : Multishot

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, Spencer pining, reader is struggling in LA, not a lot of money, multiple jobs, poor studio apartment, inconsiderate boyfriend, lots of musical theatre talk, reader insert but a few things are already decided (last name is Bennett, favorite drink is Diet Coke, love the colors blue and green, artist, theatre nerd, etc.)

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: I haven't written for Smosh in years... but the current cast and crew has me sucked back into the fandom. And I am sorely in need of more Spencer content 😭

I was initially inspired by this incredibly well done fic "Late Night" by @simpingsavant Please give it a read because it's a masterpiece.

Part 1: The Kickstart {You Are Here}

Part 2: Mama Bear

It was nearly three in the morning. The witching hour, you think with a smile. There was a light flickering near the fountain drinks. You lean against the checkout counter, thumbing through an aged script.

You memorize the cue lines that signal when quick changes are supposed to happen between scenes. The current musical you are working on is Hairspray.

Going through the script and your production notes really help pass the time.

The small rinky-dink gas station you manage is your reluctant home most nights. It wasn’t your favorite place, but it helped with the bills. Trying to make a living on production design for musicals isn’t the money maker you hoped it would be in LA.

You barely made anything doing hair and makeup for the community theatre. But it was something you loved.

And wouldn’t you rather be doing something you love than being miserable in a high paying corporate job?

Sure, you think.

It had been nearly eight months since you started working at this gas station. The owner was as rinky-dink as the store itself, speaking in short, to the point sentences and avoiding eye contact. There were only two gas pumps out front that rarely attracted customers.

The biggest commodity are the cheap drinks and snacks inside. Many stop by for something quick on their way to and from work.

Normally working the night shifts from 10pm to 6am, you are quick to notice any regulars. Not many people are awake at this time of night, let alone on their way to the gas station for a drink.

The bell sounds above the door as a familiar face enters. It was Glasses.

That’s what you called him after seeing him for the third time in a week, back when you first started working here.

He usually came in late like this, looking exhausted. He has curly dark hair, gold rimmed glasses, and some scruff. Today he’s dressed in jeans rolled up at the cuffs, brown boots, and a gray sweatshirt.

He gives you an awkward, close-lipped smile as he passes. You watch him go for the drink fridges. Energy drinks are his specialty, maybe the occasional coffee or breakfast sandwich. He always bought them two at a time, taking the slight discount for buying a duo instead of a single.

About every other week he’s there three to four of those days. You’ve always wondered why – especially when he always looked so tired when he came in.

But you’ve never had a conversation that’s lasted longer than the cordial exchanges.

“Hello,” you say.

“Hello,” he replies with his awkward smile.

You scan his drinks, Mountain Dew Kickstarts like always. “Find everything you need?”

“Yep.”

The computer beeps. “That’ll be $8.56.”

“All right.” He taps his card on the machine in front of him.

“Would you like your receipt?”

“No thanks.” He grabs his two cans.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

It had been like that for maybe six of those eight months. After that, your curiosity began to plague you. The next time he came in, you watch him browse for a Kickstart and a breakfast muffin.

Saying hello to him had felt routine. But it was clear that you both recognized each other. So you decide to say something a little more than usual.

“Getting breakfast a little early?” you joke in your quiet voice.

He smiles, pulling out his wallet. “I just haven’t eaten anything all night.”

“Sounds like a rough night. That’s $9.34.”

He scans his card. “It has been.”

With him looking down at the keypad, you take the time to look at the circles under his eyes. “You should try the croissant sandwiches. Much better than stale muffins.”

He nods his head, “Next time. Thanks.”

You watch him walk away, still at a loss as to why he’s always in there this late at night.

A couple days later he’s walking in and giving you a wave. You smile at him as he makes for the drinks again.

He’s dressed in those same jeans and combat boots. Now he wears a t-shirt with a denim jacket. If you had friends to talk to, you’d want to tell them how Glasses loves to wear the same jeans and jackets all the time.

He comes to the counter and clears his throat.

You scan his drinks and a breakfast sandwich. A croissant sandwich.

You chuckle, “You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m counting on it,” he says, tapping his card against his hand while he waits.

“Haven’t eaten anything all night again?”

He hums, shrugging his shoulders, “Felt peckish.”

“Do you want your receipt?”

“No, that’s fine. Have a good night.”

You throw the balled up receipt into the garbage bin beside you. “You too.”

You’d love to tell a friend that Glasses seems shy. He seems nice.

A few weeks later, you’re drawing sketches for costume designs. You were doing Shrek The Musical at the community theatre. Papers were full of drawings depicting a white rabbit, a wicked witch, a wolf in granny clothes, and fairies with colorful makeup.

You were humming one of the songs when Glasses came in with a yawn. His eyes search for you and he waves, “Good evening.”

“Good night,” you say sarcastically.

He grabs his drinks and comes to the counter with wandering eyes. You try to move your sketches and pencils out of the way.

“Sorry,” you say, “That’ll be $8.56.”

He scans his card, but keeps looking at your art. “You draw those?”

“Yeah,” you say, abashedly. “Little project.”

“They’re really good,” he pops open one of the drinks and takes a sip. “Are they just for fun, or…?”

You shyly pull out a drawing of a person in a dragon scale costume. “They’re for the musical I’m a part of. Down at the local theatre.”

“That’s cool,” his face lights up.

Something warm tickles your stomach. You were actually having a normal conversation with Glasses.

“Are you the costume designer?”

“Assistant,” you bow your head. “I’m head of hair and makeup.”

He nods, clearly interested. “Have you been a part of production teams much?”

“For years,” you smile, “I love theatre. I’ve done almost everything. Acting, costumes, set design, lighting – you name it.”

He pockets the other energy drink in his jacket pocket. “Sounds like fun. Have a nice rest of your night.”

“Thank you, you too.”

If you had friends, maybe you’d tell them that Glasses might become a friend. The only person you have to text is your new boyfriend Aaron. But he wasn’t a fan of nonsense texts – texts that were unnecessary.

A few weeks go by, now seven months into your job at the gas station. Glasses was still making his almost daily visits. You caught him standing outside the window for a minute before coming in.

You have confusion in your face, but a smile on your lips. “You okay there?”

He raises his eyebrows and talks as he walks to the fridges. “What do you mean?”

“Was there something on that window or were you just making sure you weren’t a vampire?” At his knitted brows, you continue, “You know… checking that you still had a reflection.”

Heat floods your face at the poor attempt at a joke, but Glasses laughs, nonetheless. “I might be nocturnal, but no, I’m not a vampire.”

You smile, admiring him walking towards you. His fluffy curls were sticking out from beneath a green hat. In white embroidery it says, Smosh.

“How were auditions?” he asks, getting his card ready.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Good. I think we’ll have a good cast.” Earlier that week he asked about the latest Hairspray script that was on your counter. “The quick changes will be fun.”

He clears his throat, having paid but still standing at the register.

“I’m sorry, did you want your receipt?” you ask suddenly. “Normally you don’t so I stopped asking.”

“No, no – sorry. I’ve been trying to find some clever segway to introduce myself. But we’ve been seeing each other for months and it feels strange to do it now.” He rubs his forehead, struggling to maintain eye contact with you while he talks. “I mean, it’s not like I have a nametag like you.”

You look down at your chest to see (Y/N) printed on the laminated tag. “That’s true.”

He takes a deep breath and extends his hand. “I’m Spencer.”

You take his hand. It was very warm. “(Y/N).”

He smiles, “Nice to officially meet you.”

Maybe you’ll tell Aaron that Glasses has a new name now. Spencer.

One night at two in the morning, you were asked to do inventory while another employee managed the registers. It was strange to have a coworker with you on night shifts, but when things need to be restocked, it took a team.

You use a box cutter to break through packages, pulling out chip bags and candies. You roll them out on a dolly. Plastic wrappers crinkling as you restock shelves, you don’t notice who Eric at the counter is talking to.

But then a pair of glasses peek around the corner. “Hey!”

You smile wide, “Spencer!”

He smiles back, “I was worried when I didn’t see you at the registers.”

“Yeah, they need two of us here when we do inventory,” you shake a bag of doritos before putting it on the shelf. “How was your day?”

He sighs, opening his drink, “Long. Shooting weeks always are.” He tells you about the online comedy group he’s a part of. It was called Smosh.

“Oh, you’ve worn some merch that has that logo on it,” you say, moving a box out of the way.

Spencer nods, “Gotta promote whenever we can.”

“How large is the group?”

“Well, it’s more of an entertainment company. We have a huge production team and a cast. We film content for four different channels.”

“That’s impressive.”

He suddenly dips down to help hand you boxes of candy. “I guess. I think most of LA are internet personalities in one way or another.”

“I’m not,” you say quietly. “It is impressive.”

You learn about his directorial position on one of the channels. Being a head producer, he has a lot of sway on that content. You commend him on the responsibility, and he seems pleased, if not a little embarrassed.

He excuses himself not long after that.

You head towards the registers to restock the candy on the counters. Eric is there giving you a telling smile.

“What are you looking at?” you ask.

The middle-aged man scoffs, “That guy came in with the biggest smile on his face, but then he realized I was the one standing at the counter and he looked so disappointed.”

“I’m sure he was just in need of an energy drink.”

Eric shakes his head, “It wasn’t me that he wanted to see.”

Now in the present, you stand at the counter while Spencer leans against the other side. You had just revealed the fact that you have a boyfriend.

“H-How long have you been together?” he asks with much more nervousness than before.

You scrunch your nose in thought, “About two months. It’s been great though. He gives me rides to work and everything.”

“You don’t have a car?” Spencer asks, paying for his snacks.

You throw the receipt away, “No. I was taking the bus before I met him.” Noticing the awkwardness enter Spencer’s face, you say, “Rough I know. But I manage.”

“It’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, especially because I don’t really make enough to get a car right now.”

“Isn’t that why you have this job on top of the musical theatre stuff?” he offers you a package of your favorite candy.

It makes you smile, “Sure. But rent isn’t helping with my savings. Living paycheck to paycheck.”

“Does Aaron drive you to theatre too?”

Your gaze falls from Spencer’s, eating a piece of candy to give you some time before answering. “No, he’s not a big fan of musicals.”

Spencer scrunches his brow. Unsure of what was stepping over the line with this new friend of his, he tiptoes. “He won’t drive you because he doesn’t like theatre?”

“It’s kind of inconvenient asking him to come get me late after rehearsals. I shouldn’t ask for so much, he’ll think I’m dating him just to have a cab driver.” You snicker at your joke, but Spencer doesn’t seem to think it’s very funny.

He drinks from his can when another customer enters the store. That always meant he would excuse himself so you could get back to your job.

You start to expect Spencer each week. You wait for when you know a filming week was at Smosh. During that time, Spencer would visit for his necessary caffeine. He always stops to talk to you for a few minutes before leaving.

You always feel bad since he normally came in exhausted from work. He denies himself sleep just to spend a few more minutes with you.

It takes a couple more weeks, but he starts to stay even when more customers come in. He just steps to the side and waits for you to ring the customer up.

Then he comes back to continue your conversation.

“So do you prefer acting or production?”

You share the snacks that he’s purchased. “Production, for sure. I kind of developed stage fright a couple years ago. But I do miss being on stage sometimes.”

He looks at you while you talk. He’s an active listener. He zeros in on your face while you speak, ensuring he doesn’t miss anything.

But when he speaks, he tends to look elsewhere. “Did something happen?”

You shrug, “I just get nervous being in the spotlight now. I don’t like the attention much.”

“I get that. I haven’t always loved being on camera. It’s taken finding the right company to do it.”

You nod, “That sounds nice. To be so comfortable in the workplace. And to have everyone there as friends.”

He agrees, “Though a lot of them like to crack jokes about not seeing each other outside of work.” He chuckles as he remembers something. “It’s great being a part of a company where the goal is comedy content. You get to have fun with your friends every day.”

“And you’ve been there for so long,” you say, “You’ve definitely earned your place.”

“Thank you,” he feels warm around the collar, “It’s been hard at times, but well worth it now.”

You suddenly feel a warmth in your cheeks. “You know, um… my show opens next week. If – If you’re interested in seeing it. I’ll be there every night.”

“Helping Edna quick change into her fancy 60s outfit,” he smiles kindly. His eyes are soft and considerate as he watches your nervous gesture. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

You brighten, “Great!”

A week later you’re in the wings of the stage, sweaty with the heat the spotlights generate. A headset adorns your head, microphone near your mouth. You’re readjusting a costume onto a rack from the last quick change.

The last number of the show was currently playing: You Can’t Stop the Beat. You whisper the lyrics and subtly follow along with the choreography.

It was safe to do so with the curtains hiding you from the audience.

You listen to the applause as the cast bows. You imagine them gesturing to the tech booth, acknowledging the production team behind the scenes. You give a little imaginary bow to the audience.

Waiting in the dressing rooms, you help organize the costumes and clean up the makeup counters. Cast members thank you for your help, carrying massive bouquets and presents from the crowd.

You compliment the flowers and give your praise to their performances. It’s forty minutes later, having put the makeup and hairspray away, preening the wigs, and spraying down the character shoes, that you find your purse and head towards the front doors.

Outside on the sidewalk you’re met with an unexpected surprise.

Spencer.

He stands under the white lights of the theatre logo. He adorns his usual rolled up jeans and band t-shirt, denim jacket over it. His curls look extra defined tonight and in his hand are three colorful carnation flowers.

“Spencer? What are you…? I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” You walk towards him and for the first time since meeting him – you hug him.

Arms around his shoulders, smelling his clean, fresh scent. He seems timid to hug you back.

“Well… I did say I would come see the show.”

You shake your head. “I would have come out sooner if I knew you’d be here. I’m so sorry to keep you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” he offers the flowers. “Worth the wait.”

You give a smile, but your face is still regretful, “You shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even on stage.”

“Of course you were,” he says, “Your costumes and wigs and makeup were there.”

You hold the few flowers, completely endeared by him. “Thank you. This is really kind of you. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, shoving his empty hands into his pockets. “It’s kind of weird seeing you out of uniform. I’ve never seen you out of that polo and black pants.”

“Well, stage crew attire isn’t much different,” you laugh, gesturing to the long sleeve black shirt and leggings. “What did you think of the show?”

“It was excellent,” he says, “It’s such a fun show. I bet you loved teasing those wigs and picking out costumes with those crazy patterns.”

“And the quick changes?”

“I counted like 38 seconds,” he laughs, “That’s super impressive.”

You smile warmly, though the night air had a chill to it. “Thank you for coming, Spencer. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” he steps away, “I’ll see you later.”

You start to walk down the sidewalk, opposite the parking lot. Spencer suddenly has a thought. He runs up to you.

“Wait, how are you getting home?”

“Oh, I walk to the bus stop and take that.”

He looks down at your crossed arms trying to keep you warm. “Aaron really won’t come get you?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience him.” You wave away the look of worry in his face. “I do this every night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Yeah, but… you shouldn’t have to.”

“Have a good night, Spence.”

You’ve never used a nickname with him before. He huffs a little before following your retreating figure, “Then let me give you a ride.”

You keep walking, “Really, Spence – I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he says, “But let me help. I want to give you a ride. It’s cold.”

Your fingers feel like ice against your arms. You look in the direction of the bus stop before looking at the pleading in Spencer’s face.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Relief floods his expression, “Great, this way.”

He guides you to his car and even opens the passenger door for you. It’s a kind gesture that you aren’t used to. He turns on the heater and your seat warmer before exiting the parking lot.

You direct him to your poor excuse of a studio apartment. The pair of you speak pleasantries the entire way. The lighting design of the musical, the strategic sets that move quickly, the realistic prop hairspray, and things like that.

He didn’t notice how you cower in the seat. He thinks it’s just because you’re still cold.

“Is the gas station good about changing your schedule so you can be there on show nights?”

“Yes, they’re so kind about it,” you say, playing with your fingers. It was a nervous habit of yours – pinching, rubbing, and picking at them. “I switch with a usual day shifter.”

Spencer nods, “I – I’ve missed seeing you at our usual time.”

“Our usual time?” you laugh, like your gas station hangouts were scheduled playdates.

He smiles, embarrassed, “Yeah, I mean… your customer service is so excellent. How am I supposed to get a Kickstart when you’re not there?”

“You know there are dozens of other gas stations and convenience stores around here.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have you.”

Something beats loudly in your chest. It sends a waterfall of warm, fizzing fireworks into your stomach.

Your apartment building is in a scary part of LA – but it’s what you can afford. Aaron was hinting at moving in together just for the ease of splitting the rent. It did sound appealing when you could actually save a little for a car.

“Thanks again for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He looks nervous again, “Anytime. And… maybe we could exchange numbers – in case you need another ride from the theatre?”

You look at him warmly, “I’m not going to ask you to come grab me when you could be in a filming week.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I would still come.”

With a small smile, you take out your phone and open a new contact. In the name slot you put ‘Glasses.’ Spencer switches your phones and puts his number in.

You smile wider as you put your name in the contact and put a little theatre emoji after it.

“Glasses?” he asks, handing you back your phone.

“Yeah, that’s…” you brush warm fingers with him as you accept your phone. “That’s what I called you when I noticed you as a regular at the gas station. I didn’t know your name, so I gave you one in my head.”

He seems overly please about that. He has to look away from you and smile. “That’s funny, I like it. What would you do if you saw me without glasses? It would be a whole new identify to you.”

“Very Clark Kent of you,” you laugh.

He suddenly removes his gold rimmed glasses and looks at you all serious. “You’re right, during the day I’m fighting crime with the Justice League and at night I refuel at the gas station.”

“Superman refuels with energy drinks?” you laugh, causally reaching over to snatch his glasses. “I don’t know if Krypton would approve.”

“No, no – Kryptonians thrive off extra energy. Sun energy and now caffeine energy.”

His eyes are a dark green-gray color. Maybe that’s just because it’s dark outside. But you can’t decide what color they actually are. They’re definitely not brown.

You raise the glasses to your eyes and look at him. “I didn’t realize Superman was so blind.”

“It’s not that bad,” Spencer laughs, looking at you fondly.

You return the glasses, “Drive safe. Thanks again for the ride. Text me when you get home safely.”

He waves you off, waiting until you’re able to unlock your door before driving away.

Inside your apartment, you look at the chipped walls and cracked ceiling. The musty, uncomfortable couch in front of the small tv atop a table you got free off a lawn. To the right is the tiny kitchen with only one counter and no dining table.

Rummaging through a cabinet, you find a tall plastic cup to put your carnation flowers into.

The bathroom is straight ahead, where you go into to get ready for bed.

The porcelain of the tub and sink have rust stains around the handles. The tile of the floor is broken in places and the dim light above is giving off an ugly yellow glow.

You open the mirror cabinet to grab what you need to brush your teeth. Brand names are all obscure as you did get the supplies from a dollar store down the street.

If you had a little more money, you would buy a face wash and face towels. But the essentials were good enough.

You cross the hall to get to your bed. Being a studio apartment, there isn’t a separate room for your bed. It lies on the floor behind the tv stand and in front of the only window in the whole place.

The queen mattress was the one thing you spent a little more money on. It doesn’t have a headboard or support to keep it off the ground, but it was comfortable and had nice periwinkle blue sheets.

You change into sage green pajamas with little daisies on them, climbing into your bed and fumbling for the phone charger next to the mattress.

As you plug your phone in, a text message comes in from Glasses.

“Just got home. You did amazing tonight! See you later this week.”

You heart his message and give him a thank you in reply.

~~~

The end of the week is approaching and you’re at the theatre again. Headset on, you hang in the tech booth, grabbing a few more safety pins, mic tape, and alcohol wipes.

The oversized fanny pack you love to wear across your chest is open and full of supplies. You stuff the microphone items inside, watching the stage from the view of the booth.

Tracy was beginning the song Welcome to the 60s. You turn on the microphone by your mouth.

“Head to the wings for quick change pretty please.”

A muffled reply comes through the headset, “On the way, (Y/N).”

You leave the tech booth and walk out of the audience room to the side entrance of the wings. Waiting on stage right, you hold Edna’s new dress for the song. Two stage crew members help by holding accessories and waiting to take off Edna’s current costume.

“Go mama, go, go go!”

Edna comes running off to stage right, tossing their purse to the stage crew member. They wiggle out of their simple purple plaid dress and step right into the sparkly pink dress you have waiting open on the floor.

You pull up the fabric as you hear the lyrics continue on stage.

“Don’t let nobody try to steal your fun, ‘cause a little touch of lipstick never hurt no one.

The future’s got a million roads for you to choose, but you’ll walk a little taller in some high-heeled shoes.”

You zip up the dress and readjust the mic pack on the suit strap beneath. Stage crew throws a new necklace on and a sparkle to the lip makeup. The other stage crew snugs a fuller wig onto the actor, starting to pin it down onto the wig cap. You hand a feather boa to the actor and help pin the new wig in.

“Come on out, hear us shout. Mama, that’s your cue!”

Just in time, you think, sending the actor back onto stage. It always felt like a close call, but the audience shouting their surprise and praise always felt like a reward.

You smile at the stage crew members and wave them off to help with set pieces. You then take the old purple plaid costume to the rack to keep it from wrinkling on the floor.

While in the dressing rooms you meet the actress playing Penny Pingleton, “Hey, sis – I noticed your mic tape not sitting so good on your cheek.”

She smiles worriedly, the action making the mic tape unstick from her face and the microphone dangle from her ear. “Just a little.”

You pull out an alcohol wipe and roll of tape from your pack. “There might just be too much makeup in the way.” You wipe the spot where the microphone sits on her cheek, fanning your hand to make the alcohol dry.

Cutting two pieces of tape, you line the microphone and stick it in place. The actress keeps her face straight, letting it adhere.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Anytime.” You leave the dressing room to find the man playing Seaweed. His mic belt kept twisting beneath his costume.

You track him down and use safety pins to secure the mic belt to his undershirt. Now as he dances and changes, the mic pack will stay in place. He shares his gratitude and runs off to the next scene.

The rest of the show goes without a hitch. The audience claps during the bows, and you give your imaginary bow to the curtains.

You begin to clean the dressing rooms when you get a text. From Glasses.

“Hey, I’m at the entrance by the concessions when you’re done in the back.”

A smile creeps onto your face. He saw the show a second time? You text back, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You’re quick to clean up and organize the costumes before heading out. The front was still packed with audience members trying to talk and take pictures with the cast members. You push your way towards the concessions table to see Spencer there.

He was wearing a black Creed t-shirt, arms full of silly tattoos on total display. Instead of holding flowers, he’s holding a Diet Coke from the concessions. You grin, falling out of the crowd and into him for a hug.

He catches you and hugs you back. You feel the cold soda against your shirt.

“I can’t believe you came again!” You pull away, eyes shining. You’ve never had someone to meet outside the theatre after a show before.

He extends the drink he got for you. “I told you it was an excellent show. And I wanted to bring a friend to see it too.”

A woman stands beside him, “And he misses seeing you at the gas station every day.”

You miss how Spencer nudges the woman with his elbow. You were too busy recognizing her face.

“Oh my god – oh my fucking god,” you accidentally shake the soda as you wave your hands. “You’re Angela Giarratana!”

Her brown eyes widen ridiculously, “Um… yeah, I am.”

“You were on Nerdy Prudes Must Die!”

A smile replaces the surprise on her face, “Oh, yes! I was in that show last year. You really scared me there for a second.”

Spencer licks his lips, watching the excitement on your face. “I wondered if you’d seen anything from StarKid.”

“Well, I’m a theatre kid, aren’t I?” you say, “I literally have a Hatchetfield Nighthawks letterman jacket. It’s so nice to meet you, Angela. I’m (Y/N).” You lean into a hug and Angela returns it kindly.

“I know, Spencer’s talked about you.” She steps away and compliments the show, “You did a great job with the costume design. Spencer and I were timing the quick changes.”

“I am very proud of those,” you say excitedly. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop smiling. Thank you for coming to our show. How do you know Spencer?”

Angela smacks Spencer’s arm, “We work together. He’s more behind the scenes and I’m more on camera.”

“At Smosh? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, it’s all right,” she says, looking to Spencer and then laughing. “I gotta be careful or Spencer won’t put me in any of the videos on Games.”

You open your soda, drinking it like you were parched all night. “Are you working on any more theatre projects?”

“Eh, not at the moment,” Angela says, folding her arms. “I’m spending most of my time on Smosh sets.” She eyes you for a second before saying, “Do you have a portfolio by chance?”

“A portfolio?” you ask, wiping your lip of soda. “Of what?”

Angela rubs at her chin, “Sketches of your costume designs or makeup aesthetics. Maybe a performing arts resume. Pictures of your work on stage.”

“Um…” you pull awkwardly on the edge of your shirt. “No, not formally. But I could pull something together.”

“That’d be great. I’d love to see more of your work.”

Spencer looks incredibly pleased with himself, biting on his lips. “Would you let me give you a ride home?”

Your eyes are still shining, flitting your gaze between the two friends. “Um… yeah – that’d be great.”

All of you walk outside the theatre and towards the parking lot. Spencer is quick to open the passenger door for you and you give an awkward thank you.

Angela rolls her eyes and climbs into the back. “He’s such a doofus.” You watch Spencer walk around the hood of the car to get into the drivers side.

“A what?” you laugh.

“Just watch him – you’ll notice sooner or later.”

He climbs in and uses the seatbelt, “Watch who?”

You clear your throat, “Joey Richter. He’s another actor on StarKid Productions. He’s super talented.”

Angela snickers in the back. “What was the first thing you watched on StarKid?”

“A Very Potter Musical,” you laugh, “Way back in the day.”

“Classic,” Angela says, folding her arms and slumping into the seat. “What brought you to LA?”

You play with your fingers. “I wanted to move out of my home state. And I wanted to get more into the arts. But it’s been hard to find stable work.”

“You’re telling me. That’s the life of an actor – just jumping from one gig to another.”

“It would be the dream,” you sigh, “To do this full time. I just wish I had a little more security with it. A stable income. Not to be afraid with how I’ll afford food every month.” You awkwardly laugh as you realize you might’ve said too much. “But I’m doing all right.”

Angela agrees, “It’s hard to do well in the arts.”

“Hard to be recognized,” Spencer says. “(Y/N) already does well in the arts.”

You smile, your cheeks warm. “When is your next filming week?”

“Next week,” Angela sighs, yawning big. “Which reminds me – I gotta pick up that new pair of glasses for the office.”

“Angela is super blind and never wears her glasses during shoots,” Spencer explains. “Especially on the games channel. She’s always squinting super bad at the tv whenever we’re playing a game.”

“And I’ve been doing just fine!” Angela says loudly, “I’ve been training my eyes to see that far.”

Spencer scoffs, “Yeah, and the compilations of you squinting are growing at an exponential rate because of it.”

“Shut up!” Angela yells.

You laugh at their antics. “Are you allowed to yell at your boss like that?”

Spencer looks in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, Angela. As your superior you need to treat me with a high level of respect. I expect a full written apology and a certain amount of groveling before you’re allowed back on the Games set.” His tone was serious, but by the wide comical look in his eye, you know he’s using hyperbole as a joke.

“The heads of Smosh are actually Ian and Anthony, so don’t you even pull that superiority card!”

You keep giggling at this funnier, more outspoken Spencer. Proof that he was very comfortable with this coworker and their workplace.

It sounds nice.

~~~

Angela sits in the passenger seat now, slumped into the door and leaning her forehead against the window.

“She’s really nice.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says quietly, thoughts still lingering on you.

Angela looks over at him and smirks. “You like her so fucking much. I knew you did when you wouldn’t shut up about her at the office, but damn – seeing you with her was nearly painful.”

“What are you talking about? I’m so subtle about it.”

“So you don’t deny it!” she sits up stick straight, so fast that the seatbelt locks into place and stops her from moving anymore.

Spencer flounders, “I – what – no, that’s not what I said!”

“You totally did you little fucker! You like her so much it hurts. You like her so much your cheeks are going to burst into flames. You like her so much you can’t get a full sentence out.”

“Angela, shut the fuck up – you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

She bounces in her seat, “I’m so subtle about it. I can’t believe you. You’ve been talking about this girl for almost a year. Of course you have a crush on her!”

“Angela, I swear to god, don’t ruin this for me.”

“How would I ruin this? I want my little Spencey to have true love. You have to ask her out.”

“Yeah, genius – you’re forgetting about a teensy little detail. She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Angela freezes, sitting back. “Right.” She bites her lip, “Should have made your shot earlier.”

“And risk looking like a creep asking a girl out at a gas station? No thank you.”

“Is you considering her for the production team on Smosh an elaborate way to play the long game with her?”

“No!” Spencer grips the steering wheel, sounding like a bickering sibling. “She has real talent, and I think she deserves the position.”

Angela holds up her hands, “All right, okay.” She side eyes him with raised brows, “… but you wouldn’t be upset if she suddenly became available and you could ask her out?”

He refuses to meet Angela’s eyes. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction by answering that question.”

“You basically just answered it,” she folds her arms, “You know… I can’t promise I can keep this from Amanda. Or Shayne.”

Spencer puts his elbow against the window and holds his temple.

“Or Chanse.”

“I figured.”

Angela gave him a sympathetic smile. “For what it’s worth – I think she has a real shot. We should get her portfolio to Ian and Anthony asap.”

~~~

You’re cleaning the counters at the gas station. It’s nearing the end of your shift, almost 6am. And Spencer hadn’t visited you like he usually did. It was actually making you worried.

You had spent the last few days collecting every piece of art and experience you had to compile a portfolio. It didn’t feel like a very thick folder, but it had every ounce of hard work from the last few years.

It sits within a blue cover under the registers, waiting for Spencer to come.

“Hey!” there he comes through the door. “I’m so sorry, we had an overnight shoot, and I forgot to tell you.”

You look confused, “Spence, you didn’t have any obligation to be here. We didn’t make any plans.”

“I know, but I usually…” he looks flustered and upset. “You know, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

You smile kindly, “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

He runs a hand through his curly hair, his eyes considering you as you clean. “This early in the morning, we both look exhausted now.”

“Aw, we have matching dark circles under our eyes!” You go under the counter to grab the blue folder. “Here’s that portfolio Angela was asking about. I wasn’t sure how to get it to her, so maybe you could take it to work?”

“Um… yeah, for sure. Thanks.”

The bell above the door rings, signaling the appearance of a new customer. Usually at this point in the mornings, customers would come in for their sustenance before work. You’re focused on Spencer, unaware of the person walking towards you.

“(Y/N), let’s go.”

You turn your eyes around and see Aaron beelining for your counter.

“Oh, hey,” you say quietly, “You’re twenty minutes early.”

“And?”

This man was over six foot, broad shouldered, and unkempt. His eyes are lazy and hard pressed, his jaw tense as you contradict him.

You wring your hands, “I’m not allowed to leave until six.”

“Well, I’m here now. Let’s go.”

“That’s…” you suck in a breath. He smells like stale beer. “Let me clock out and tell my boss.” You round the counter and are quick to enter the back rooms.

Spencer stays where he is, holding the blue portfolio, and looking at Aaron with an air of disdain. It was not the first impression he was expecting when picturing your boyfriend.

“You waiting to buy something?” Aaron asks, frowning at the way Spencer’s looking at him.

“No, I was just…” he swallows. “I was just talking with (Y/N).”

Aaron squints his eyes, hands moving to his hips. “And you know her because?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“(Y/N) doesn’t have any friends.”

“Untrue, because I’m standing right here.”

Aaron flexes his jaw, “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

“Yes, I have,” you reappear without your nametag and your purse now around your shoulder. “I’ve talked about him a couple times.” You stand beside Spencer and instantly feel the tension.

Aaron extends his hand like he wants to take yours. “If you did talk about him, I would have remembered. We’re leaving.”

You go to hold his hand, but he moves his to grab your arm, pulling you towards the door. You turn your head to mouth, “Sorry,” towards Spencer.

Spencer waves at you, his face placid and upset. He watches out the windows to see Aaron let you go on the sidewalk to get into the car yourself. He slams the car shut, neglecting his seatbelt, and squealing out of the parking lot.

Still upset, Spencer gets into his car and contemplates his next move. His instincts told him that you weren’t completely safe. He wonders if you and Aaron have moved in together yet – he was trying to pull the ‘cheaper rent’ card on that account.

It was blatantly clear that Aaron was gaslighting you. Within three minutes, he was pegged as an asshole.

Spencer pulls out his phone and sends you a text. “Nice seeing you today, hope you get some good sleep.”

He rubs hard at his face before driving off. He plans to show your portfolio to Ian and Anthony tomorrow.

~~~

You’re sitting on the couch, playing on your PlayStation, when someone knocks on the door. Enjoying the day off, you wonder what door-to-door salesman is at your house.

You open the door and a giant smile envelopes your face, “Spencer! You didn’t tell me you were going to visit.”

He take a breath, “Um… yeah, I wanted to ask you something and I couldn’t wait until you were on shift.”

You lean against the doorframe, biting your lip. “Well, I would invite you inside, but I have to warn you… it’s not very nice.”

“I don’t care,” he says matter-of-factly. “I just want to talk.”

“All right,” you say shyly, opening the door wide. You watch his reaction, already feeling embarrassment brewing in your stomach.

Spencer looks around for a second, taking in the minimal furniture and all around lackluster state of the structure. He zeros in on the old tv displaying your video game.

“Are you playing Red Dead Redemption 2?”

“Uh… yeah,” you say quietly, holding yourself and you walk into the living room. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Spencer smiles, finding it amazing to learn something new about you that he loves. “Nice horse.”

You laugh, sitting on the couch and grabbing your controller. Your cowboy character was riding a white horse in the middle of a river. “It’s the White Arabian you have to tame by Lake Isabella.”

“Is that… like the best horse or something?” Spencer comes to sit beside you, sinking into the musty couch.

“It’s the only elite Arabian horse that you can find in the wild.”

Spencer leans against the couch arm, resting his face in one hand. “I didn’t realize you were a gamer.”

“The more you know me, the more of a nerd I become.”

“Nothing wrong with that, you big nerd.”

You giggle, “What did you want to talk about?’

Spencer clears his throat. “I uh… I took your portfolio to work.”

“What did Angela think?”

“She thought it was all great. But um… a few others got a look at it too.” He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “There’s this job opening on the production team, specifically on the Smosh main channel. But they would help with all the channels.”

You pause the game again and really look at him. “What is the position?”

“An assistant art coordinator. They help the art directors with creating sets, costumes, and character looks.”

“And what are the responsibilities?”

“They’re looking for someone to manage hair and makeup for Smosh skits and any character work on other channels. Most of the cast do it themselves, but we do need someone who specializes in prosthetics makeup. And you seem to have done that a lot in theatre. We also need someone to manage costume work – the upkeep of them.”

You swallow hard, arms slowly moving to hold yourself. “Do you know what the salary is?”

“I think it’s around 50k-60k. You’ll make between $24 - $28 an hour.”

You bite your cheek. “That’s great.” You look at your surroundings. This new job would be paying you over $10 more than you’re getting now. “Are you saying Smosh is interested in interviewing me for assistant art coordinator?”

Spencer nods his head. “That is basically what I’m saying.”

“Did you show your bosses my portfolio on purpose?” You lower your eyes but look at him through your lashes.

He takes a deep breath, stretching out on the couch. “Maybe. Maybe I thought you deserved a chance.” He looks at you seriously, “I think you’ve got some real talent, (Y/N). You should go for an interview.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll do it.”

You look at him, “I’m suddenly super nervous.” A laugh escapes you, “I… I have to talk to Aaron about it.”

“Okay,” Spencer says with an edge. He tries to be respectful. “Have you two…”

“We’ve moved in together,” you say softly. “To make bills a little easier. And… and as a trial run, I guess. I’ll be able to save up for a car now.”

Spencer has a finger on the corner of his mouth. “Do you think you could make an interview this Thursday?”

You think for a second, “I’m sure Aaron would be okay with that. I’ll just talk to him about it tonight.”

He doesn’t seem happy about that statement. But instead of saying something he might regret, he points to the PlayStation. “Have you completed this game before?”

“Oh, yeah – maybe three times,” you pick up the controller again. “This time I’m trying to complete all of the side quests before finishing the main story.”

“You should be wearing a cowboy hat while playing.”

“That would be awesome,” you laugh. You look at him with sincerity, “Thank you for looking out for me, Spence. I appreciate the chance.”

He gives a close-lipped smile. “Always.”

~~~

You step off the bus and begin to walk down the street. Using your phone, you follow the directions that Spencer gave you.

The Smosh office was right around the corner.

You enter the building, pulling on the only pair of dress pants you own. You readjust the simple blouse to show off the single diamond necklace you wear around your neck. You hope it gives you a professional first impression.

The main entrance of the building shows a little receptionist desk and plush chairs to wait in. You advance the desk while noticing behind it are many tables and folding chairs – probably for lunches.

“Hello, how are you?” a nice lady at the desk says.

You wave shakily, “I’m good. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Hecox and Mr. Padilla.”

She seems to find you saying their surnames comical judging by the little smile on her face. But she gestures to the plush armchairs behind you. “Sure, just wait there and I’ll call them.”

You turn around and notice that behind the chairs is a large window showing a large kitchen. The lunch tables and folding chairs makes more sense.

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the name plate, “Selina.” You sit down and holding your famously large fanny pack in your lap. It gives you something to hold with your fidgeting hands.

Now sitting, you can see the wide windows behind Selina’s desk. There’s a long conference table in there with a television and speakers on a stand. There’s a phone speaker in the middle of the table for any people that are being called in remotely.

Behind the conference table is a little sitting area with a couch and armchair. A couple tables and folding chairs are in the rest of the open space. It’s probably a big room for any meetings with teams or big groups of people.

“(Y/N) Bennett?” someone asks. You jump and stand to see two men coming around the corner.

One is taller with dark, wavy styled hair, a nose ring, and cool tattoos spidering up his neck. He has a great smile and just radiates a natural energy you like.

The other is slightly shorter with brown hair in a classic cut. He has a scruffy beard and black square glasses. He gives very much dad energy with how he’s dressed.

“Yes,” you say rather breathlessly. “I’m (Y/N) Bennett.”

“I’m Anthony,” the taller says, “And this is Ian.”

You shake hands with them, Ian gesturing to the conference room. “We’ll meet in here.”

The three of you walk into the room and take seats around the long table. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say quietly, “Thank you for offering me an interview.”

“For sure,” Anthony says, leaning forward in his chair. Ian sits and immediately starts spinning back and forth. “We saw your portfolio and were really impressed with your work.”

“Thank you,” you say eagerly.

Ian clears his throat, “Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

“Well, I’m living here with my boyfriend. I’ve lived here for about two years. Before that I was in Nevada, just outside of Vegas. My family is still there,” you say quietly. “I’ve been a theatre and fine arts student all my life. I’ve been doing community and school productions since second grade. I have experience in both stage acting and in tech behind the scenes.”

“Which do you prefer?” Anthony asks.

You hold onto your fanny pack, “Right now, probably tech. I really enjoy designing costumes and putting characters together. Sometimes I do miss acting though.”

“What do you enjoy about art design?” Ian questions.

You focus on his chair spinning back and forth. “I’m a fan of storytelling. I think one of the greatest talents a person can have is in telling a story, no matter the platform. If I can be a part of that process, I’d enjoy every second. I want to show the story in costumes, hair, and makeup. It’s the most expressive way to describe a person or character.”

“Well said,” Anthony nods. “How would you manage a set when coordinating those things?”

“I would need to see the costume closet to know how to care for it. Organization is key, ensuring you don’t lose any pieces. You’d need a costume rack on set and some essentials, like safety pins, apparel tape, a lint roller, things like that. Makeup vanities will need to be disinfected and cleaned after use, brushes clean and organized. Prosthetics and stage makeup would need to be cared for to make sure we don’t share any germs and possible infections. The same goes for any hair and wig essentials.”

Ian seems a little lost in your explanation, just impressed that you were on top of it. “You have a fine arts degree, is that right?”

You nod, voice still quiet with the nerves. “That’s right. I got a bachelor’s in fine arts at Utah Tech University in St. George, Utah.”

“Is that close to where you’re from in Nevada?” Anthony asks.

You smile, “Yeah, it’s just over an hour away. It has a well known outdoor theatre called the Tuacahn Amphitheatre. I helped with a few tech things during summer shows. And then I acted at the college.”

“What shows did you act in?” Anthony asks further.

You play with your fingers. “We did Footloose, Addams Family, The Drowsy Chaperone, Elf: The Musical, Measure for Measure, and Much Ado About Nothing.”

Anthony whistles, “You did Shakespeare?”

“I love Shakespeare,” you say. “Much Ado About Nothing is my favorite play.”

“You are a major theatre kid,” Ian says, “Why don’t you act anymore?”

You squeeze your fanny pack, “I’ve gotten a little camera shy the last couple years. I prefer helping with quick changes and fixing any mic tape mishaps.”

You take a turn asking some questions about their art department and typical filming schedule. You learn about their expectations for the job and what the salary would be. It was exactly as Spencer had said.

Ian and Anthony share a look with each other before leaning forward. Anthony looks at you kindly, “Would you mind if we conference for a minute? We want to give you an answer today.”

You widen your eyes, “Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

The pair stand and excuse themselves to discuss things outside the room. You’re left in the swivel chair, picking at your fingers and praying that the interview went well. It would be incredible to be given a job that grants you the security and stable income you wanted.

There was a chance to have friends here. Spencer and Angela would be here. You would be storytelling in little comedy sketches. You’d be a part of a team that designed characters. You’d be in charge of ensuring faces weren’t shiny on camera, hair was in place, and clothes looked good.

This could be a home for you.

It takes almost ten minutes for Ian and Anthony to return. They come back with two others that are introduced as Cassie and Erin. They are art director and assistant art director for all productions.

You would be working beneath them should you be offered the position.

More questions are asked by the newcomers, and you find them to be very kind and artistic like yourself. You agree on many fronts, having many things in common. You would be happy to be working in their department.

Ian and Anthony both have smiles on their faces when they say:

“(Y/N), we want to formally offer you the position of assistant art coordinator. Responsible for hair and makeup, and the costumes of the cast. You’ll be our main reference for any special effects makeup and prosthetics. And you’ll help coordinate for all four channels.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. “Really?”

Cassie and Erin had faces full of sympathy. Cassie was covering her face with her hands. Erin was folding their arms and smiling.

Ian was standing their awkwardly, looking at your emotional reaction, but Anthony was quicker to ask. “Is that a yes?”

You laugh tearily, “Yes! Yes, I’d love to take the position. Thank you guys so much. I’m so excited – I don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

They all clap momentarily, Ian announcing, “Then we should call everyone to the lunchroom and make introductions.”

“We’ll have Selina bring up contracts to sign,” Anthony says, gesturing to the door. “You want to follow us?”

You nod enthusiastically, shaking hands with everyone on the way out. There are lots of thank yous and congratulations.

Cassie, Erin, and Ian go to round up cast and crew to the lunch tables you spotted earlier. Anthony goes to speak with Selina at the receptionist desk.

You exit the conference room, wiping tears away and clutching your fanny pack.

Spencer was there, pacing by the plush armchairs you sat in earlier. He has his arms crossed, one hand at his mouth, tracing his lips in a nervous gesture.

At your arrival, his head whips to you, eyes wide at the tears running down your face. He looks so afraid, unsure of how the interview went. But he might’ve misinterpreted your tears.

“(Y/N),” he says softly, “What… what did they say?”

He didn’t even notice the other people gathering at the lunch tables.

You walk towards him, still trying to wipe at your face, “Spence.”

He wants to hug you desperately then. He wants to comfort you. And he wants to hurt whoever decided to make you cry.

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face there. He holds you back, still at a loss as to what the final verdict was.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Anthony, “Get over here!”

Spencer still holds you as you whisper to him, “I got the job.”

He pulls away and holds your waist, “What?”

“I got the job,” you whisper more excitedly. “They’re about to announce it to everyone.” You flounce away to stand at a counter with a few mini fridges, addressing a group of cast and crew. You notice Angela standing in the crowd.

She gives you two thumbs up and you wave back.

Spencer walks over just as Ian begins to talk.

“Hey, guys! We wanted to introduce our newest member of Smosh. This is (Y/N) Bennett!”

Anthony continues, “She will be working in the art department as an assistant art coordinator. She’ll be our head of character design and management of costumes, hair, and makeup.”

The crowd begins clapping and shouting their congratulations. Spencer joins them, standing next to Angela and a few others.

Unbeknownst to the pair of you, some cast and crew were sharing looks. People you hadn’t met yet were winking at each other. They knew full well how much Spencer wanted you to get this job.

You wave at everyone, “Hello! I’m so excited to meet you all and start working on these projects.”

Everyone breaks apart to introduce themselves.

Angela brings over a number of people, “Hey, (Y/N).” She says, “Here are some of our castmates.”

A tall woman in a beautiful jumpsuit says, “I’m Amanda, welcome to the Smosh family.”

“I’m Shayne,” a fit blonde man shakes your hand, “And this is Courtney.”

“Hi,” a blonde woman then shakes your hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Angela sticks her head in, “Those two are married.”

You nod, giggling, “Wonderful.”

“I’m Chanse,” a curly haired man says, giving you a hug, “Welcome to the team.”

A tall man with a great mustache waves, “I’m Tommy!”

“Hi!” you say, “It might take me a while to remember all your names. Thank you for being so welcoming. I’m so excited to start.”

“Spencer’s told us a lot about you,” Amanda says with a cheeky smile.

You look toward Spencer’s rosy face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, definitely,” Shayne laughs, “He has nothing but praise for you.”

Spencer ignores the immediate retort that the single worst thing about you is your boyfriend. “You guys need to calm down.”

“Can we give you a tour?” Amanda asks, taking your arm, “The office has a lot of sets and rooms.”

Courtney appears on your other side, “We can show you the art department and the costumes closet!”

“And the makeup vanities,” Chanse says, already leading the way, “There are a couple by the sets, but there is one in the green room where Angela takes her naps.”

“Hey!” Angela instantly retorts, “Hey, hey, hey… uncalled for!”

Amanda scoffs, “But true.”

Angela snorts, “Yeah, sure.”

You are dragged away by Amanda and Courtney, Chanse and Angela still bickering along the way.

Spencer stays where he is with Shayne. The latter having a very knowing smirk on his face. Spencer ignores him as long as he can.

“Have you ever been told that you shouldn’t make faces because you’ll be stuck that way?”

Shayne chortles, “I’m just curious how you feel about this.”

“Clearly you already have a theory.”

“I do, based purely on the last eleven months of you pining over this girl.”

“I am incapable of pining.”

Shayne wheezes, “Yeah, sure. What do you call bringing up (Y/N) whenever possible, talking through ways to introduce yourself to her, workshopping conversations with me to get to know her…”

“All of those things were in confidence.”

“And all blatant examples of pining over a woman you’ve grown attached to!”

Spencer licks his lips, watching you being dragged by Angela towards the pods of employee desks. “I don’t… I can’t do anything about it now.”

“I’ve never seen you like this, man,” Shayne chortles. “It’s kind of throwing me off right now. You don’t talk about girls much.”

“The dating apps have been seriously lacking the last year.”

“Because you’ve been talking up some chick at the gas station,” Shayne laughs again. “I have to commend you for playing the long game.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I have to be fine with being just friends.”

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be your best friend.

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew imagine #smosh games #smosh fandom #smosh au #smosh x reader #smosh pit #smosh #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

588 notes · View notes

astrobydalia · 2 years ago

Text

Spicy astro observations pt. II

This post is for +18 readers only🔞

work by astrobydalia

If you’re new to astrology you should know that Mars is sex drive but Venus rules desire and pleasure. In mythology, Venus was considered the goddess of erotic love and hedonistic desire. Venus in your chart also indicates how and what type of things you enjoy and find pleasure in, so this planet can be very telling of the type of vibe that gets you in the mood

Personally, my take on this is:

Mars = how you like the fucking to be

Venus = how you like the treatment to be

Venus+Mars = how you like sex overall

Pluto/Scorpio in the 12th house often times have shameful sexual experiences and/or sexual affairs that nobody will ever know about

Mutable Mars are the ones that tend to have a rather depraved or perverted sex drive. They're just down for almost anything

I've noticed your moon sign reaaaaally shines through in sex. Like, a lot. For example Aries moons love the "right here right now" kinda sex and tend to be really fond of bold and nonchalant advances. Gemini Moon like to switch. Love to be surprised and loves teasing/mindgames. Capricorn moons will dominate, etc

Not be stereotypical but… Aries Mars will fuck anyone anywhere anytime. Will really go from 0 to 100 literally anytime. They like to fuck around but are loyal in a relationship from what I’ve seen. Every single one I’ve met was the kinda person to be very nonchalant when discussing sex, will be very vocal about being horny, their experiences, etc

Scorpio mars 🤝 lowkey behaving like a sexual predator with the person they’re interested in 😭 I swear their behaviors can get creepy if they’re attracted to you. Someone i know with this placement was asked why she was still single and she jokingly replied “guess I haven’t found a prey yet”

Mercury in the 1st house/Mercury dominant/Gemini placements you guys seriously need to STOP smirking at me like that and making me laugh or else I won’t be responsible for what happens next

>>No but seriously people forget how universally attractive mercurial energy really is. Sexual arousal starts in the brain and these mf know how to charm and enchant and they just naturally have a very endearing energy to them. Many sex symbols and models have gemini placements (Marilyn Monroe, Naomi Campbell, Megan Fox, Jennifer Lopez...)

Taurus Moon/Mars/Venus enjoy slow and possessive sex. With them you can expect hickeys, lip biting, grabbing parts of your body...

Scorpio Venus/Mercury could have a degrading kink 🫢 specially when mixed with Virgo placements. They love filthiness of being treated like/treating their partner like a little hooker

Mars-Neptune people get sexually aroused by pain, but they usually like their partner inflicting pain to them, not necessarily inflict pain to their partner

Ive noticed Virgo Mars don't necessarily wish to dominate but they can tend to end up taking the lead in bed. They want to please and ‘do a good job’ so they often be like “don’t worry babe I got this"

Women with Lilith aspecting ASC/Sun = "the only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife". They felt like everyone wanted to touch them but nobody wanted to love them. Those suitors who did want to "love" them thought of the Lilith person as someone who needs "taming" through marriage or only saw them as a sexual trophy. Kinda like Cassie from Euphoria. This is why I've very commonly seen these women usually take a long time to actually marry or be in a serious relationship

I’ve said this before too but as per my observation Lilith women I’ve seen didn’t really have a dark and sexual look/personality to them at all, quite the opposite they all had very angelic vibe/appearance specially when younger. But underneath all this innocent energy there was always something about them that was blatantly seductive and desirable so people project this Lilith persona onto them. It’s almost like society corrupts them and only sees them as something fuckable

In my experience, when it comes to performance those with domicile or exalted mars tend to overpromise and underdeliver while those with debilitated mars are the opposite (underpromise and overdeliver). Take that as you will.

I'm gonna talk about Pisces for a second cause I'm so sick of all this feet nonsense 😭🤚🏼

Pisces venus,mars,moon are closed off sexually but will literally let you do anything if you make them feel like it’s safe to surrender to you. These natives always remind me of hentai girls and the ahegao face

Also, I've always thought Anastasia from fifty shades of grey is a great depiction of Pisces Venus (both in and out of the bedroom)

I’ve seen a lot of people saying Pisces could like to have sex while drunk or on drugs but they actually don’t need to. Sexual pleasure itself could actually make them feel “drunk” or out of it without being under the influence. They overall enjoy feeling out of control of themselves, drunk with desire

Pisces/Neptune/12th house influence on Mars/Venus/Pluto/5th house/8th house, Mars/Pluto ruling 12th house: they are actually hard to please in bed because they desire to experience otherworldly ecstasy and may go out of their way to find it through different things (drugs, alcohol, emotional intimacy, pain, spirituality, etc.), hence the previous observation. They tend push boundaries and enjoy very odd stuff similar to Aquarius but the difference here is that Pisces is not detached, they have a tendency to romanticize any sort of kink and turn it into a deeply intimate experience, all of this as an attempt to take them closer to ecstasy.

Libra placements need to feel like they look pretty while doing it like those romantic sex scenes in movies that's why they like partners who are conventionally attractive. This doesn't necessarily mean they're vanilla but they like to perform in a way that make both parties look flattering, if they or their partner look or act too crazy/wild/messy it can actually turn them off

Also Libra/Taurus/Cancer Venus, Moon, Mars don’t like to feel disrespected!!! Doesn’t matter what they’re into sexually, they need their partner to be mindful, caring and appreciative of them and their pleasure in and out of the bedroom

Cancer placements are sooooo passionate in bed much like fire signs but only if they have feelings for you. Also, they aren't always submissive?? Yes they might want to be babied and cared for but depending on other placements they can very much dominate and take the role of care-giver and provider

People associate Neptune to porn and I don’t disagree (cause fantasies and stuff), but I’ve noticed it’s actually Mars-Uranus/Aquarius Mars and Uranus/Aquarius in the 8th house the ones who actually wanna have sex like they do in porn. That sort of more kinky, rough and emotionally detached sex

Is it just me or Sagittarius rising women are always involved in some sex scandal and constantly sexualized? I mean Kim K, Paris Hilton, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johanson… I also personally know many Sag rising women who have this “naughty girl” reputation iykwim

Venus-Moon aspects in a man’s chart is the womanizer aspect 100%. Same with men with domicile or exalted Venus and/or Moon. Their sex appeal is very charming, non-intimidating and welcoming so women easily feel soothed by their presence. If underdeveloped they will be very cringe and will tend to make inappropriate advances. I've seen this a lot in men who had a habit of objectifying women. They're horny af and don't hide it, tend to go for conventionally attractive women that can provide satisfaction to all their senses and desires

Saturn influence on Venus/Mars are VERY sensual. They like to keep the pacing very steady without losing momentum

Lilith conjunction to inner placements in synastry will always give that cat and mouse dynamics in a relationship. The Lilith person specially will want to often tease, seduce and even play mind-games to the planet person which causes a lot of sexual intrigue

If, like me, you expected fire in the the 8th house to be the most active in bed then you thought WRONG. It's the exact opposite actually. They demand to be pleased and can actually be the type to just sit back and enjoy

Aries Moon/Venus men are huge bottoms (unless chart says otherwise). They are attracted to a very bold and confident woman that can put him in his place

Earth signs are the freakiest actually. Think about it, earth rules the 3D, the tangible physical world, so it makes sense for these signs to be the most attached to sensuality and exploring physical pleasures in different ways. Honestly people with prominent earth (mars, Venus, moon specially) are always SO hot and sexy, they ooze sensuality and I've noticed they tend to be the most generous in bed, they're all about providing baby

Lilith women can be particularly fond of the cowgirl position

Idk why everyone is so hooked up on 8th house synastry for sexual matters and never talk about 12th house. I've seen this overlay a lot more in couples, specially when Mars/Venus/Moon is here. There is A LOT of unspoken tension and attraction, this house overlay is very haunting in all cases from what I've seen, specially for the house person. This person may wake up desires you didn't even know you had and will randomly loom in your memory forever

Scorpio Mars is sexually overrated I said what I said. No, they're not bad in bed but they're definitely not the sexual gods people make them out to be. What's exciting about being with these natives is the energy, anticipation and passion more than anything (also they last a reeeeaaally long time), but once they get in the act they get completely driven by their lust and desire which makes their performance a bit animalistic and reckless. They tend to be the type to go straight into the crotch area and forget any other kind foreplay and stimulation. Being with them will feel like sleeping with a very horny person that is having sex for the very first time in their lives. They're also not as freaky as people make them out to be, sure they're open to trying stuff but idk there's something about them that is low-key a bit conservative and closed off (which is fine)

Virgo, Pisces and Cancer Lilith are the type to act innocent before/during/after doing the most filthy shit

work by astrobydalia

#Spotify #astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #virgo #astrology observations

4K notes · View notes

softestqueeen · 4 months ago

Text

prompt: "Oh? Does that turn you on?" a/n: sub!spencer lives in my head rent free. i hope you like it, enjoy <3 so, this is a repost beacause the original post got literally 0 notes and i want to see if tumblr is the issue or if it was really my writing 😭 original post + request warings:18+ MDNI!!, smut, pet names, hand job, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink pairing: sub!spencer reid x dom!reader I 979 words special prompts I special masterlist

You were standing in the kitchen of your boyfriends flat. Spencer Reid could do a lot of things and knew how to do even more things, but the one thing he never quite mastered, was cooking.

By no means were you a good chef, but you knew you way around a kitchen and could whip up a few meals. Which is why you were currently in Spencers kitchen, showing him how to do a simple lasagna.

"And that's how you do the layers. The key is to stay consistent and make the layers even. Now you go ahead and try, Spence."

Your boyfriend didn't enjoy the cooking as much as the close proximity while you were showing him how to do all the steps, guiding his hands or just hugging him from the side while watching something cook.

Watching Spencer cook away made pride swell in your chest. This wasn't your first cooking lesson and it was definetely a dramatic improvement from your first one, where you had a quick bathroom back and once you returned he managed to completely burn the pasta sauce. He looked like a kicked puppy while you threw the sauce away.

But since then he had gotten significantly better, even surprising you with a home cooked meal on your anniversery.

Once Spencer successfully laid out the next layer of the long pasta and sauce, you couldn't help but smile.

"You did such a good job, you're getting better and better," you knew your boyfriend loved it when you praised him, so you decided to tease him a little bit with it ,"you're such a good boy, Spencer."

That made him stop. Spencer was glad that he wasn't facing you right now, but rather was standing at the counter with you standing behind him to his right, now looking at his face. You immediately saw his blush, but Spencer was glad you couldn't see the boner he was now sporting after hearing his words.

He knew you were teasing him in a way, though you were still earnest. Still, he couldn't keep his body from reacting, the words planting a seed inside of his mind in a place he hadn't dared to discover yet.

You could see immediately what had happened, how your words affected Spencer. A slow smile spread over your face and you stepped closer to him, your lips now directly next to his ear.

"Oh, does that turn you on? I didn't know you liked being called that, though you were always my good boy." Now you were being a bit mean, but you knew that Spencer would tap out if it got too much.

At you calling him a good boy again, Spencers breath hitched. He wasn't surprised that you almost immediately caught on to his feelings.

You reached around his hip, palming his length through his trousers, making Spencer moan. Starting to pepper kisses over his neck, while Spencer leaned against you, just teasing him for now.

"You like that, baby? Me calling you a good boy?" He could hear you so clearly with your mouth directlly to his ear and his cock twitched in reaction to your filthy words.

It took him a moment to register that you asked him a question, but once he did he nodded, putting more of his weight against you.

"Words, baby, I need words. Be a good boy for me or I'll stop."

"Y- Yes, I- uhm, do like it when you call me that. Please, please I need you."

You could feel him throbbing though his trousers, deciding to have some mercy. Slowly undoing his belt and popping open the button of his jeans. Reaching inside you pull out his length, the tip glistening with precum as Spencer let out a relieved sigh.

Taking him in your hand you slowly start to move up and down, spreading the precum on his length. His pretty moans and whines only spurred you on further, not yet increasing your speed, but the grip you had on him, making him gasp.

You knew this was a new situation for the both of you, the dynamic itself already familiar. You decided to test out the waters, Spencer now being able to think clear enough incase he felt uncomfortable with anything.

"Such a good boy for mommy, huh? You like my hand wrapped arounf you?" Spencer moaned at your filthy words, his cock twitching imaptiently in your hand.

"Yes mommy, please more." Jackpot.

You went faster over his length, your free hand wandering to his front as well, slipping under his t-shirt and sprawling out over his stomach, making his muscles contract.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. I can feel you're getting closer."

"Please, mommy, make me cum. I want to be good for you." His breathing was getting more irregular and you could feel him being impossibly close to his high.

"Don't worry baby, yo're already such a good boy for me. Cum for me, cum for mommy."

Your words finally tipped him over the edge, his cum spurting all over his stomach and your hand. You continued to stroke him, your movements slowing down while he calmed down as well.

You peppered kisses onto evey free patch of skin you could reach at the moment and retracted your hand, taking a paper towel to clean you both up. After washing your hands and cleaning up the evidence of your short lived passion, you were ready to get things done.

"Well I'd say you finish the lasagna and then we'll contine. What do you say, Spence?"

With those words you left a stunned and sputtering Spencer behind. He turned around, looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes. But once you gave him a pointed look, he immediately went back to the lasagna.

You were sure you've never seen someone layer anything that fast.

the requests for this event are OPEN until sunday (16/02)! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

605 notes · View notes

zorostitties · 17 days ago

Text

Intertwined; 4

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child's heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!! A little something I haven't explained yet - this story will be divided in 4 sections/parts. Part 1 which covered their childhood ends with this chapter. So next chapter, we're setting sail to pre timeskip times... where love will actually start blossoming 🤭 Also, I finally made a playlist for Intertwined!! I listen to these songs a lot while writing. I know these songs might be too upbeat or random considering how fucked up MC's life is all the time, but I couldn't make a SAD playlist for a fic involving mr. JOYboy himself 😭 Anyways!! Enjoy <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

➛ 11

You were eleven years old the first time you almost died during a commission.

The target was the leader of a criminal organization. They weren’t too well known, or too respected, or too powerful, but had caused enough trouble that someone was willing to commission his death. Boss Hamazaki was his name. He wasn’t a fighter. He didn’t have a Devil Fruit ability or any combat skills.

But he had bodyguards.

And you underestimated them.

That was a deadly mistake. Up until then, you hadn’t really struggled; your targets were like Boss Hamazaki, had no significant skills. You’d usually camp around them for a while, wait until they were alone, strike too fast for them to understand what was happening… and flee with a guaranteed payment. Truth is – you were an assassin, not a fighter. Not yet.

So when one of his bodyguards noticed your presence and stormed into the room…

Well.

Oops.

You got shot.

You had time to move slightly away from the trajectory of the bullet, but not fast enough to completely miss it. The projectile pierced your stomach. Adrenaline assured you to not feel immediate pain when it hit, so you managed to get a certified kill anyway. But… yeah. It hurt a lot. And bled. And you’d definitely had passed away if Landon wasn’t around to proceed with the first aids.

It sucked. Not because of, you know, the fact that you almost died – but because you didn’t remember seeing Crowley get seriously injured like that. Which meant he had an advantage over you.

And you hated it.

Competition within the family was highly stimulated. It was part of the tradition after all. The better assassin got a bigger percentage of the payments, more prestige, more privileges… and at the end, the better assassin would become the head of the family. The one to command Scarpia’s future and businesses wasn’t the oldest, but the best.

It made a lot of sense, since Urso – the oldest – was a useless. He had no ambition at all; to make him the head of the family would be an abysmal mistake.

So it was up to the rest of you to fight for more recognition.

Except… the fact that you were betrothed to Vinsmoke Ichiji already excluded you from the game, since you’d leave the family sooner or later; you’d have to carry your future husband’s last name.

Or, at least, Crowley thought so. He concluded that you were no competition – which meant you’d have to prove him wrong again, and again, and again, as many times as necessary, until he’d finally shut the fuck up.

The shot sent you a few points back in the board, though. It made you so angry at yourself that you couldn’t even turn that half of your brain off.

It was unbearably hot for some reason – and you should already be used to the heat and humidity of Mt. Colubo’s forest, but sometimes it was still too much. You sat on a big chopped log with your legs crossed under the shadow of a tall tree, scribbling furiously and biting the inside of your cheek. How could you better Crowley? What was his main technique at the moment? What was his best skill? What was his current kill count?

Luffy’s screams and grunts of effort were just background noise.

“Gomu Gomu no… Pistol!!”

God. How many times had he repeated that? You lifted your eyes momentarily to watch Luffy stretch his arm and try to punch a boulder approximately ten meters away from where he stood – but, as you had noticed, he didn’t quite control the stretching of his members. It seemed that they had a tension limit, like a regular rubber band. It made you wonder for a moment how far Luffy could stretch without ripping off…

Luffy fell back on the grass and groaned. He took two seconds to get up again and get in position again, eyes tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

“Pistooool,” you said absently under your breath with him, with much less excitement. Your eyes glued back to the sketchbook on your lap. The snapping sound and his loud groan indicated he had failed again.

You already knew what was coming before he even did it.

“Heeeey! Four Eyes, you’re being boring! Get up and come train with me!”

You didn’t bother looking up.

“I already said I can’t move that much.”

It wasn’t a lie. It had been a month since the shot; you were still in the process of recovery. Usually, the Scarpia children wouldn’t have this much time to get a full recovery… but your parents wanted to be sure that you’d always be the healthiest so you could reproduce in the future.

Ew.

Luffy was crouched down in front of you in a second.

He pouted angrily. He was covered in sweat, the hem of his yellow tank top was drenched. Luffy didn’t look tired despite the fact he’d been training his attack since early in the morning.

“Boooo. Weakling. You’re a weakling, that’s what you are.” He poked your sides and your arms and your cheek repeatedly to call your attention. “Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Who the hell gets hurt like that? You’re just being dramatic.”

“If you poke me again I’ll crack your skull open.”

“Weeeeak.”

He tried to stick his finger in your nostril.

You flipped.

And then Luffy was running away from you, laughing hysterically, while you chased him around the forest with fire steaming from your eyes.

Luffy always got what he wanted one way or another – usually by being terribly annoying. The fact that you fell for it too was a bit embarrassing… but you ended up having fun anyway, so most times you let it slide. Not always though. He tried to stick his finger in your nose. He had to pay.

That is – until an agonizing twinge in your stomach made you halt.

You groaned, gripping your shirt, and leaned on a tree. Crap, I shouldn’t have moved so much.

The sound of Luffy’s sandals skidding on dirt floor echoed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Taptaptaptaptap. He ran back to where you were.

“Hey– what happened?!”

“I told you that I’m hurt,” you said between gritted teeth.

“Eh… Hm…”

It looked like Luffy didn’t really know what to do at first, and he showed a rare expression: guilt. The straw hat boy put your arm over his shoulders and helped you walk back to that log you were sitting previously.

“D’you need something? D’you want water? You wanna eat? There’s bananas there– I can grab some–“

“N-No. I’ll be fine.” But damn, that hurt real bad. It seemed that your guts were rearranging in a strange way.

You were probably making a funny expression, because Luffy was starting to get pale.

“No, you’re not okay. Stay right here, aight? I’ll– I’ll call Ace–“

You grabbed his wrist firmly.

“I said I’ll be fine.” You grunted again.

You closed your eyes momentarily.

Luffy watched you in silence – which was a bit of a miracle.

The pain. The pain.

That place in your stomach. On the left side.

Does it have anything to do with the shot?

No. It’s the abdomen. It’s the muscle. Muscle strain. Hurts bad. But not serious.

So stop aching. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Your features softened. The pain was gone.

You took a deep breath and stretched your arms.

When you opened your eyes, Luffy was staring at you… very confused.

“So, uh… what just happened here?”

“I got better.”

“...I’m not that smart, but I don’t think that’s how things work.” He scratched his head. “You just made the pain go away?”

“Kinda.”

“How?”

Oops.

You weren’t supposed to tell him that.

Scarpia secret training. All that bullshit. You were so used to this technique that it didn’t even feel like a technique anymore; one of the earliest teachings, something each of you were trained to do the moment you learned to walk. You sincerely forgot this wasn’t normal… and most importantly, you forgot this was secret.

But Luffy already knew your secrets… so who cared?

You held your chin and tightened your eyes at him.

“...I think it’d be useful for you, to be honest. You don’t really control your stretching, do you?”

Luffy sat on the grass and crossed his legs. It was a bit funny, how you were sitting on the log and him on the ground, almost like a teacher and a student. It was also a bit strange how interested he got. Despite his never ending playfulness, Luffy took his training seriously.

“I control it. Until I don’t.” He grabbed his own pointer finger and stretched it until the tension limit, as if to illustrate. “How can this thing be useful?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind… The true jewel of the Scarpia family is our training. That is our advantage against the world, and that is why it must be excelled and kept in secret–

Ugh. Shut up. I don’t caaaaare.

“In my family, we call it Heavenly Control.” You started in a quiet voice. Again, unexpectedly, Luffy was paying attention. Had he ever sat down and payed attention in silence to anything before? “Like the name says… it’s the ability to be in absolute control over every layer of your body. Blood, muscle, bones… even feelings. You always know what’s going on inside of you, you’re always aware, therefore you can control it. And… you can get some results… like this.”

You made your nails grow and sharpen like blades.

Luffy’s eyes widened.

“Woooooah! That’s sick! I thought you weren’t a Devil Fruit user!”

“I’m not. It’s Heavenly Con– were you even paying attention to what I just said?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his hand dismissively. “So you can sharpen nails and make pain go away. How could this help me?”

“If you had absolute control over your body, you could stretch however you wanted. Even longer than you do now. Past the tension limit.”

“Past the what?”

“Past this.” You pinched his cheek and pulled it. Luffy groaned. You pulled and pulled and pulled until the skin visibly strained and you had to let go with a loud snap.

“Oooh.” He said while caressing his cheek.

“Also, it can be useful in battle. You can turn your emotions off to fight better.”

Luffy frowned and crossed his arms. “Uh… why would I do that?”

“Because it’s useful?”

“But it’s not fun.” He opened a mischievous smile. “When I find a strong beast, it’s fun to feel your heart pumping and your legs getting cold. It’s the best part!”

Oh.

You never thought of things this way. But, well… Luffy didn’t fight for money. When you had millions of berries at stake, you didn’t have time to have fun like that.

Luffy rubbed his hands excitedly. “But this sounds cool! How do I learn it?”

It was your turn to scratch your head hesitantly. “...I don’t know if you’ll want to learn it. Involves a lot of meditation.”

“And how’s it?”

“You sit still for a loooong time.”

Luffy scowled as if he had sucked on a very sour lemon. “Boooring.”

“Yeah.”

“But there’s no other way, right? So, come on! Teach me.” He punched his own palm and opened a determined smile. “I have to become stronger!”

There it was again. The way Luffy managed to surprise you. He hated anything boring, he despised being still in the same spot for more than two minutes… but he took his training seriously. More than anyone you knew. More than you, even.

It made you want to help him.

You smiled.

“Okay. But I don’t wanna hear complaints, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Let’s go!”

He did, in fact, complain a lot.

Not that you weren’t expecting him not to. He, in fact, seemed unable to sit still for more than five minutes. Anything and everything caught his attention – a bug, the wind, a leaf, a fart that would therefore break your focus and you’d have to smack him while he giggled.

You taught him the basis of the technique. Three days you had – and three days you spent trying to teach him to the farthest length of your patience. To be fair, there were moments when he actually seemed focused in the meditation process… the longest he stayed still was ten minutes. A miracle!

There’s no way he’d learn everything in three days, of course. Heavenly Control could take years to be mastered. You only did it so easily because you had been trained to do it at a very, very young age.

It was the last day of your stay when you learned once and for all that Luffy was not normal.

Not that you didn’t know it already to some extent. He wasn’t a normal boy. He lived in the woods being raised by a group of criminals. He killed giant beasts for dinner. Him and his brother invaded High Town weekly to steal and fight adults just because it was fun. No, Luffy was not a normal boy.

But you hadn’t noticed his true abnormality until that afternoon.

Luffy was training as always. You sat on that same log and made a last sketch before leaving – a green ladybug! –; the tiny insect walked slowly on the edge of the page. You did your best to not disturb it so it wouldn’t fly away.

Luffy screamed the name of his attack as always.

You decided to lift your gaze to him for some reason. Luffy rotated his right arm many times, his fist tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

He took impulse and launched his arm.

“...Pistoool!”

It stretched. And stretched. And stretched.

Your eyes widened slowly.

It stretched more.

It stretched past the tension limit.

His fist hit the boulder this time – it didn’t destroy it, just cracking the tip of the rock. But that was the least of it.

His arm retracted with a sonorous snap. Luffy grinned and jumped.

“Yahoooo! I did it! Did you see that, Four Eyes?! I did it!”

Your jaw was on the floor.

To Luffy, he had just landed a punch on a target he wanted.

But you understood the gravity of what had just happened.

A target approximately ten meters away from where he stood. A distance he couldn’t reach only a few days before. A stretch he couldn’t quite control then.

He did it now – and it wasn’t a strike of luck. It had intent. It was a calculated blow. It… It was controlled.

Luffy mastered a secret technique from the Scarpia Family in three days without even practicing much. A technique you took years to truly master.

That afternoon, you saw the shadow of what Luffy was going to become for the first time.

I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates. I’ll be the most free. I’ll find the One Piece.

He repeated that over and over and over again. Any adult would judge it as the delusions of a kid that dreamed too much. And… well, at first, you thought he was being delusional too. You knew the seas; you belonged to the New World. Millions and millions set sail in the hopes of finding the One Piece. How many failed? How many had their hopes ruthlessly crushed when they crossed the Red Line and realized that they were just grains of sand against true pirates? How many didn’t have the will to continue? To persist?

But Luffy was there. Laughing and doing cartwheels to celebrate. The boy from the middle of nowhere who just mastered Heavenly Control without much effort in three days.

Luffy was going to become a beast.

You knew it.

You believed in it.

You mirrored his smile and clapped, making Luffy’s chest fill with pride. Your friend’s future was going to be wonderful.

You couldn’t wait to witness it.

➛ 12

You needed a weapon.

It’s something you didn’t think you’d need. Your own body and strikes were enough since you started your career. Sure, you received formal training on many types of weapons: swords (though they weren’t really your thing), daggers (these were useful sometimes), guns (not really your style)… you liked to work with your bare hands, however.

This opinion changed drastically over the past year.

Your commissions weren’t that easy anymore. Your success rate was still 100%. Which meant your prestige was increasing. Which meant your percentage in payments increased, too. Which meant commissioners were starting to book you specifically.

The White Wolf is how you were being called by some.

Which meant you were being assigned with less commissions, but more difficult targets.

Actual fighters. Devil Fruit users. Just attacking them by surprise wasn’t enough. They could defend themselves and fight back.

Just your body wouldn’t do; even Heavenly Control and its hardening technique wasn’t enough. You were still too short and too weak against adults that actually knew how to fight.

So, yeah. You needed a weapon. But which?

The Scarpia arsenal was a gigantic bunker with every weapon one could think of – all pristine clean, being kept inside glass cases, perfectly organized, not a grain of dust in sight. Swords. Sabers. Katanas. Spears. Daggers. Guns. Cannons. New model weapons stolen directly from Marineford. Paradise for people in the wrong side of life.

None of that interested you.

The twins fought with daggers. Saqr was becoming a sniper – and a good one at that. Crowley chose a scythe as his weapon (soooo edgy and forced, oh my God). Urso used brass knuckles.

What weapon could be useful to you?

One that could be used for both melee and ranged combat. You weren’t that tall compared to your brothers; you needed something that could be protective as well… but also fast. What could fulfill all of those needs?

To protect and attack… Close and distant… Fast and light…

Hmm…

...You thought of Luffy for some reason.

His stretching. The way he could whip his limbs around. He could fight from close up or from a distance.

...Oh.

You took a tiny Den Den Mushi from inside your jacket and dialed.

“Yes, Young Mistress?” Landon’s voice answered promptly.

“I need a chain prototype. Make it with Seastone. As light and thin as possible.”

“How many meters?”

“Let’s start with three.”

“As you wish, Young Mistress.”

It took four prototypes to get to the perfect weapon.

The chain was light; only four centimeters in diameter, but that was thick enough to actually hurt when a blow successfully hit. Forged in a mix of Seastone and iron: the iron for malleability, the Seastone for hardness. At the tip of the chain, there was a spiked ball the size of an apple to add weight and balance. It was a shiny silver because you liked pristine things.

It took a week to master its use.

You swung the chain around like a whip. Each fast whiplash was a guaranteed wound. You could swirl the chain around your body and it’d act as a shield, rebounding any projectile or attack. The spiked Seastone ball could be used for heavier blows. You had already learned how to wrap it around objects to pull them, to use each end in different situations. And you could just wrap it around your hip to make it a cute belt when you weren’t using it.

Just perfect.

You cleaned the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, recovering your breath. Chunks of destroyed training dolls were scattered over the entire floor. You looked down at the chain resting in your hands; now, they’d have to be covered in gloves all the time to avoid bruises. Yes, this prototype was perfect. So easy to use, so durable… the engineers did a great job.

You noticed Saqr and Crowley giving quick glances at you. You loathed the fact that they were training at the same time, though all of you refused to talk to each other. You knew they were assessing your abilities, probably finding ways to defeat you. But… you also knew that they had already admitted to themselves that this weapon was very effective, otherwise they would’ve mocked already.

The heavy doors of the bunker opened behind you.

It’s funny how you recognized your father’s presence without even seeing him. He was silent. His steps never made any sound regardless of how heavy or tall he was. And yet, whenever he entered the same space as you, immediate chills would run your spine.

You turned around and straightened your back. Saqr and Crowley did as well.

“Father.”

He walked straight towards you with his hands behind his back. His suit, always perfectly ironed. His beard, always flawlessly trimmed. His expression… always blank.

Drachen looked at the destroyed dolls on the floor. The chain in your hands.

For a second, you thought he’d mention your efforts. Your new weapon. Your progress. A compliment would be too much… a simple acknowledgment would be enough. A hint that what you did was being seen.

What left his mouth wasn’t disapproval either – and yet, it was so abysmal that you’d rather have him cuss you out.

“Did you have your first period?”

You froze.

It was like someone dropped ten tons over your shoulders. You felt pressure from all sides, crushing your body as if you were in the depths of the sea. Your face and neck burned.

Why… How…?

Three days ago.

You woke up to see blood in your panties. It’s not like you didn’t know what that was; and yet, it felt strange. It felt disgusting. It felt embarrassing. You didn’t tell your mother because you thought she wouldn’t care. You asked your maid for a pack of pads, but you were too embarrassed to ask her how to use it, though you quickly found out by yourself. You used Heavenly Control to try to ignore the cramps. You tried not to walk like a penguin every time you felt the awful sensation of a liquid dripping from your insides with no control over it. You obsessed over your hygiene, scared that anyone else could feel the smell of that.

It was all new and strange and so so gross.

Why is he asking me about that?!

How did he even know? The maid told him? But– But why him? He was your father. He was a man. You didn’t have the courage to tell mother about it; you could barely look at that maid in the eye. So… why was he…?! Of all people?!

In front of Saqr and Crowley?!

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You just nodded.

Drachen crossed his arms.

“Go see the doctor today. We need to know if your reproductive system is healthy. Vinsmoke Judge wants reports on your health.” Silence. “Did I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, father.”

He nodded, turned around and left.

You just… stood there.

It’s like your body suddenly weighed too much to be moved. Like your ears were muffled.

You looked down at the chain, the weapon you had mastered so fast. The weapon you were proud of.

It was all useless in the end, wasn’t it?

Every effort. Every successful commission. Every training.

All that mattered was if your ovaries and uterus were working.

Your brothers were laughing hysterically.

They found a quick way to defeat you, after all.

➛ 13

Luffy’s straw hat didn’t look too big for his head anymore.

And he didn’t sound like a baby duck anymore, either. Which was… weird. Every time you visited, you could pin point the differences in his and Ace’s appearances, since people can change a lot in a whole year. Ace looked completely different from the boy you met five years ago. Well, he didn’t look like a boy, quite frankly. He got super tall of sudden. And muscular. And his voice got deep. And… well, he wasn’t a prick anymore, which was nice. He got used – unbothered – by your presence on your third visit (thank God; you were already so emotionally wrecked due to the engagement back then, if he decided to be an asshole, you’d have killed him).

Luffy still looked like a boy. But he was… changing.

He still was a solid five centimeters shorter than you, though, which made you happy for some reason.

You looked at him from over the sketchbook and sent him a challenging smile. “I’m almost finished!”

Luffy bit his tongue, his brows furrowed in a focused expression, while he scribbled something in his own piece of paper. “I’m almost finished, too!”

He was obviously lying.

Luffy always repeated that your drawings were good, but his were sooo much better – though he had never showed any. So you decided to challenge him: you’d have to sketch each other in five minutes. The best drawing would win. You sat in front of each other with a sketchbook over each other’s legs.

You still had a minute. The pencil slipped rapidly over the sheet to complete the details in his hair. The black strands of hair looked a little longer than the last time you saw him. Was it on purpose, or he just forgot to cut his hair? Could very well be the latter. His face… it wasn’t that round anymore, either. His chin looked more pointed. His cheeks, less chubby; his collarbones, more prominent.

You just had to add the scar under his left eye and you’d be done. You peeked at him one last time.

He was biting the tip of his pencil in a focused expression while analyzing his own sketch.

And for the first time in your life, a word popped up in your head.

Cute.

Your eyes immediately darted down again.

Woah woah woah. What the hell?!

The watch on your wrist marked the fifth minute.

“Time’s up!” You yelled. “Drop your pencil!”

Your heart racing is just because you’re excited about the competition. That’s all. Yeah.

“I’m sooo sure mine is better than yours.” Luffy grinned mischievously. “Ace! C’mere!”

The oldest brother appeared from around the corner, absently munching an apple. His hair was a mess. Had he been sleeping the whole afternoon?

“Y’all done?” He asked with little interest.

“Yeah. Be our judge.” You said, holding the sketchbook against your chest. “Me first. Ready?”

You turned the sketchbook around – and it was satisfying to see their jaws drop. Even disinterested Ace.

“It looks great!” Luffy exclaimed. Yeah, of course it did – even if you only had five minutes. A very realistic portrait of him.

“Yo, can you draw me like that later?” Ace asked with his mouth full.

“For a grand.” He gasped and frowned.

“Mercenary.”

“Alright, alright. My turn!” Luffy smiled and straightened his back. “Get ready!”

He showed his paper sheet proudly.

You and Ace stared at it in silence for some seconds. Then–

Ace cackled.

“What the–?!” You looked from the paper to his face angrily. “It doesn’t look like me!”

“’Course it does! It’s exactly like you!”

You almost couldn’t believe that.

Luffy drew a dog with round glasses and a skirt. Or it looked like a dog, but it was supposed to be a wolf… drew by a five year old. This? Seriously? And he kept bragging of how much better of an artist he was?!

Ace patted Luffy’s back while still laughing. “You won, Luffy!”

“How?! That’s not fair! You’re just saying that because he’s your brother!”

“Just accept defeat already, Four Eyes.” Luffy giggled mischievously. “I draw muuuch better than you.”

You wanted to punch the both of them.

Why did you even bother?

You already knew the forest well at that point.

It was funny, because you only visited once a year for a few days… but these trees, these trails were already so familiar. They felt like home much more than your actual home… though, being honest, you didn’t really have a home by then – not one that felt like it.

You avoided being at the Scarpia Island as much as possible. The family had many houses and hiding places around the world. You purposefully decided to stay as close to the East Blue as possible when you weren’t working, away from the New World, especially during the months that preceded your birthday; that way, you’d make it to Goa Island quicker. The rest of the year… you’d still avoid Scarpia Island like the plague. There was no reason to stay there if you didn’t have to be there.

Sometimes, you thought of maybe making Goa Island your own hiding place so you’d have an excuse to visit more often. But… no, that’d be too risky. Would put too many question marks over the place. Goa was far from anywhere important. They’d start asking why would you chose to be there. And Landon… he never left you alone for a second. He’d report back to your parents the second he found out about your friends.

So… this was as far as you could go – even if you felt that a week wasn’t nearly enough.

How many sketchbooks had you already filled? Pages and pages of insects, animals and even some plants. Goa Island always had something interesting to offer. It felt as if you could spend a lifetime there and it wouldn’t be enough to capture all of its beauty. They even had this strange bee species that you didn’t find in your Insect Encyclopedia. Maybe your book was outdated? Or have you discovered a new bee species–?

“Ooooi, Wolfie!”

You frowned and looked up.

As Luffy was taking a nap, you decided to wander into the forest alone to see if the beehive was still in the same place you found last time. Coincidentally, the beehive was near an area you usually avoided since that thing happened years ago.

So it was definitely surprising to look up and see Ace waving at you from the tree house he forbid you from getting near.

Huh… why was he waving? Was he rubbing in your face that you couldn’t climb up?

“Ain’t you curious to know what the view looks like?!”

You stared up in shock.

“...You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.” It didn’t look like he was trying to prank you. He gesticulated in a welcoming way. “Come up!”

He didn’t need to say it twice.

You immediately ran to climb the stairs. They looked pretty unsafe, but you didn’t care. Oh, it was impossible to not feel all giddy. If you said you had no interest in seeing it you’d be lying; you even thought of visiting the place in secret, but that’d just be rude.

After meters and meters of climbing one of Mt. Colubo’s giant trees, you were finally there.

The structure was circular, completely made of wood. Lime already covered part of the walls and roof; there were some holes on the floor. The wooden boards creaked beneath your feet. By the height of the ceiling, it was clearly made for kids – Ace had to lower his head to stand there. He leaned on the “balcony” with a relaxed expression; wind played with his dark locks.

You approached him. There was an old wooden helm by his side. You absently rolled it.

“You guys built it all by yourselves?”

“Yeah.” Ace looked ahead to the landscape. “Luffy, Sabo and I.”

Your stomach felt a little cold. Luffy almost never mentioned Sabo; you’d never heard Ace talk about their deceased brother until that moment.

That felt strangely special.

You leaned on the balcony beside him as well. The view was breathtaking; you could almost see the sea by that point.

“It’s pretty impressive.” You rested your cheek on your palm and quirked an eyebrow jokingly. “Why’d you invite me up here? Gonna confess your feelings or something?”

Ace chuckled. “Kids ain’t my type.” You stuck your tongue out, to which he just rolled his eyes in response before looking ahead again.

“I won’t be here when you come back next year.”

That took you by surprise.

Oh… you remembered. Luffy talked about it before; how he’d set sail at seventeen years old… and Ace was sixteen.

Surprisingly – the idea of not seeing Ace’s annoying older brother face made you feel a bit sad.

“So… you invited me here to make a last sweet memory?”

“Oh, God. Shut up.” He punched your arm jokingly, making you giggle. “And it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll probably end up bumping into you in the New World.”

You stared at him in silence.

He stared back.

“Luffy told you.”

“ ’Course he told me.”

You cussed him under your breath while Ace laughed. That stupid bigmouth!

“What’d you expect? Telling Luffy a secret is like giving bananas to a monkey and expecting it to not eat them.” Yeah, but he didn’t tell me your secret, a bitter voice in your head groaned. “Also… you were never really normal, Wolfie. It wasn’t that hard to guess there was something sketchy about you.” He patted your back. “But relax, I actually won’t tell anyone your little secret.”

You avoided his gaze for a moment. “So… you don’t care? About what I do?”

Ace shrugged. “None of my business what you do.”

Like Luffy, Ace’s reaction to your true background was nonexistent. Yeah. Both of them were coo coo crazy.

He closed his hand in a fist and rested his chin on it; his expression got a little more serious. After some seconds of silence, he spoke again in a softer voice: “...You know, Luffy is an outgoing guy, but he doesn’t have a lot of close friends. It might sound obvious, but… it’d be cool if you keep showing up… so he doesn’t feel that lonely without me.”

So… that was the reason. Yes, his “request” was a bit obvious, since you’d keep showing up anyway. But it made you feel funny. Maybe because you were reminded once again that, despite Ace’s hard exterior, he was a good older brother. And because as much as you’d deny it to yourself… deep down you felt jealous of what they had.

You massaged the back of your neck sheepishly. “Well… I only visit once a year for a few days. Does it even make that much of a difference?”

Ace scoffed. “Of course it does. Luffy counts the days for your visit every year. And he doesn’t even know how to count that well.”

Oh.

...That made you feel funny again. In a different way. In a weird way.

You avoided Ace’s gaze, looking down for a second.

He was already watching you when you looked up at him again.

He had a… strange, tiny smile in his lips. A bit mischievous, maybe?

No.

A bit knowing.

“...You have no idea, do you?”

You frowned.

“What?”

Ace chuckled again. He put both hands in the pockets of his shorts and started walking away.

“You should see the crow’s nest. The view up there is even better.”

“Wait– What are you talking about? Ace? Ace?!”

He just walked away, laughing and shaking his head slowly.

➛ 14

“Hey, hey, d’you see that?! Ace already has a crew! And a bounty!”

It was impossible not to see, as Luffy was pretty much shoving the newspaper in your face. You tried to smile with your mouth full of rice. Just the fact that Luffy was doing anything else other than eating the entire table during lunch was very shocking.

“Luffy, let her eat in peace,” Magura scolded, but he didn’t seem angry at all, a small smile never leaving his lips.

“I’m sick of you saying the same thing over and over. We all saw the newspaper!” Dadan groaned under her breath, to which Luffy just stuck his tongue out in response.

You couldn’t help but just smile at Luffy’s enthusiasm, even though you already knew about Ace’s adventures before you even arrived. He was making a lot of noise… albeit his bounty was still a humble 50 million. It was a bit strange to see his face plastered over a wanted poster and to know the entire East Blue probably already knew his name. Had he already entered the Grand Line, you wondered?

You eyed Dadan. The redhead woman showed a tough exterior as usual, but you didn’t see genuine annoyance in her eyes… much the opposite.

“Did Luffy cry a lot when Ace left?” You asked her jokingly.

“Hey! I didn’t cry!”

Dogura giggled and side eyed you. “Luffy didn’t cry-nii… But Dadan–“

She punched him in the head.

“Shut up! Where’s the respect?!”

She blushed furiously.

You swallowed your laughter along with the rice, afraid of being punched by her, too.

Mt. Colubo without Ace felt… weird.

Of course, you were happy that your friend was achieving his dream. Just like Luffy, Goa Island would never be big enough for Ace. And yet, his absence was noticeable at all times, something you just couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t there to make sarcastic comments, punch Luffy or laugh at you…

It felt empty.

And it was a bit sad to realize that if you were feeling like that, Luffy was feeling it tenfold worse.

He didn’t shut up. Not that he was someone to shut up on a normal basis, but now? The straw hat boy talked nonstop. He wasn’t even someone to talk too much about the past, yet you caught yourself listening to him babble about everything that happened in the weeks before Ace’s departure and everything he’d been up to since. Luffy wasn’t even focused on his training as he used to. He followed you around like a shadow. You wondered if his throat was dry from talking so much.

Ace’s request made much more sense now.

You were used to loneliness. You even learned to enjoy it to some extent. Luffy… wasn’t. More than that – he obviously hated it. So you could see why it was so tough for him being alone for the first time. Of course, Dadan Family was right there; he could go down to Foosha to see Makino whenever he wanted. But it wasn’t the same, was it?

So when Luffy dragged you to their tree house, you just accepted it. You didn’t make questions. You knew it was his little way of feeling close to his brother somehow.

Did it piss you off when a storm fell and there was no way of going back to spend the night on a warm bed? Definitely.

But you resigned yourself to not complaining out loud.

“We used to live here, you know?” His voice came from some corner, though you were too focused on trying to patch a leak on the ceiling to look back. The ceiling was so short that you didn’t need to stand on anything to reach it. “For a while.”

You gulped. By we, he was talking about Sabo as well. There was always a strange knot in your stomach in the rare moments Luffy mentioned him.

“Seems like a fun place for a bunch of kids to live in.”

Luffy giggled. “Yeah.”

His silence meant he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

You finished the patch and turned around.

Luffy had brought two thin mattresses, pillows and rags as covers. They were visibly very old, probably hadn’t been used in a long time… and kid sized. He placed them side by side and sat over his with crossed legs.

You sat in front of him.

The rain was loud out there. Luckily, it wasn’t followed by wind, so it wasn’t that wet inside the tree house. Kinda. The only source of light was your small lantern on the floor beside you two. It cast weird shadows on Luffy’s face.

He became… quiet all of sudden. He took his hat off and tried to scratch a stain from the red strip with his thumb. Shoulders dropped, head hung low.

Luffy looked less and less like a boy.

There was something a bit uncanny in seeing him so serious.

You crossed your arms and coughed. “What d’you wanna do? I got a deck of cards in my bag. We could play a game.”

Luffy pouted. “I’m not that great with card games.”

“You could learn.”

“You don’t have that much patience to teach.”

Bullseye.

“Uh… what about a guessing game?” Luffy didn’t answer, still focused on his hat. Weird weird weird. That’s so not him. I’m typically the one to be silent. Honestly, I’d rather hear him talk nonstop like he was doing before than this. “So what? We just gonna sit here and stare at each other?”

“It’s funny to see you try to cheer me up. Usually it’s the other way around.”

You were taken aback.

...Bullseye. Again.

Luffy had these moments sometimes when he blurted out stuff that showed he was not dense, even though he seemed to be. In fact, he payed a lot of attention to a lot of things – things that he found interesting, at least. And he’d blurt these things with a straight face, too.

He finally looked up and opened a kind smile.

“Thank you.”

Yeah. He… he looked less and less like a boy.

You looked to the side and frowned, hoping it would mask your embarrassment. “Why is it that whenever one of you bring me here, you get all emotional?”

Luffy giggled and finally put his hat aside before yawning. “Sleep in a rainy night is the best. Imma turn this off, okay?” He turned the lantern off before you could complain. Luffy laid on his mattress with his back turned to you. “Night.”

“Good night…”

But he was already snoring.

He dragged you to a place where you had nothing to do and slept.

Great.

You laid there, your back turned to him, for a long time. It wasn’t exactly pitch black; you could see weird shadows on the walls caused by the tree branches around. The endless pitter patter of the rain or a leak somewhere else in the house. The sound of Luffy turning around every five minutes. It seems he was hyperactive even in his sleep. It was a bit chilly due to the rain, but that cover was too short for you, which made you curl like an armadillo. You wondered how many insects were lurking in the shadows… if there were maybe snakes too looking for cover.

No sign of sleep whatsoever.

I should put the lantern under the cover and read a bit. Will he wake up with some light? Shit… the rain isn’t going away at all. I’ll catch a cold like that. Is he moving again? How can someone move so much sleeping–

Your entire body froze.

Every muscle. Every nerve. Even your lungs. Everything froze.

Arms wrapping around your waist.

His entire torso glued to your back.

And his face– his face was pressed on your neck. Right on your neck.

Wh– What?!

If that part of your brain wasn’t turned off, your immediate reaction would be to fight back. But it wasn’t on. That was Luffy. You’d never be able to hurt Luffy.

Even so – what the hell was he doing?!

Your heart raced violently as if it wanted to run away from your body; your breath came fast and short. Oh my God. What is going on? What?!

“L-Luffy?!” You managed to whisper somehow.

The answer came in the form of a soft snore.

Chills chills chills. He was breathing on your neck. It was cold then; now, it was steaming hot. His skin was always warm for some reason… but at that moment? Literally glued to you?

“Luffy?” You tried again, too scared to look over your shoulder. His hair tingled the back of your neck.

Another soft snore.

Sleeping. He was really sleeping.

Thinking back on it… you’d seen how Luffy usually sleeps. When he’s not sprawled over the bed like someone who just got shot, he’s hugging his pillow.

Oh.

So unconsciously… he found a pillow.

That made you calm down a bit – well, at least it wasn’t on purpose. Because it’d be strange if Luffy simply decided to… huh… cuddle. Not that you weren’t used to his hugs or the way he didn’t mind physical touch, but that was different. Very very very very different.

If I move away slowly… maybe he won’t wake up…

Yet, you didn’t move.

You stayed there. Still. Like a statue.

You weren’t brave enough to move away.

...You didn’t want to move away.

Luffy’s snoring wasn’t loud or annoying. His warmth… was comfortable. Shielded you from the rainy night. His grip wasn’t too tight. The slow movement of his chest against your back was calming.

To admit you were enjoying this would make you a weirdo?

Have you ever been this close to anyone before? No. Obviously no. You didn’t remember ever receiving a hug from your parents. They weren’t the type of people you could run to when you got a nightmare; they wouldn’t accept you into their bed and give you a comforting hug.

Yeah.

Perhaps being alone hurt you as much as it hurt him. More than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So slowly, your body relaxed. Slowly, you felt sleep getting heavy in your eyelids. The rain and Luffy’s calm breathing were your lullabies. Slowly, you fell asleep.

You woke up the moment he disentangled from you.

The sun already shone above the forest. He didn’t move away abruptly, but his lack of warmth was already enough to bring you back to consciousness.

You laid there, eyes closed, and waited to see what would happen.

There was silence for a while. Luffy didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. You wondered what expression he was making. You wondered if he felt uncomfortable or weird. You wondered if letting him wrap his arms around you was inappropriate.

Finally, Luffy poked your cheek.

You turned around.

His hair was a complete mess. His face all puffy.

“Morning.” His voice was husky from sleep. “Let’s go down to Foosha.”

He didn’t mention what happened.

So you wouldn’t, too.

Foosha Village didn’t have a lot of kids anymore.

Makino still baked cake for the Mayor every year, albeit the parties became smaller and quieter. The Mayor himself didn’t seem to mind, as he had already said these birthday parties were more towards the kids than to himself; but he still enjoyed a good chocolate cake anyway. Who wouldn’t?

The bar was empty in the evening. You’d already helped Makino put the chairs over the tables to sweep the floor. Now that it was all cleaned and most people left, she brought the second cake. She always baked a second cake to prevent Luffy from eating everything by himself.

It was just you, Luffy, Makino and the Mayor eating cake, sitting on a round table.

“I’m glad Ace made new friends out there.” Makino confessed, smiling sweetly. You had noticed how she – and the other three – just mentioned the name Ace after the bar emptied. It put a question mark in your head, as it always did.“I bet he’s having fun.”

“Having fun?!” Woop Slap choked. “Makino, he’s a criminal now. There’s nothing good about this.”

“D’you see his bounty photo?! He looks so sick,” Luffy completely ignored the Mayor, speaking with his mouth full of cake. Makino giggled. “And in three years, it’s gonna be me. I’ll have an even better bounty photo!”

The Mayor sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “You still want to be a pirate?!”

“The King of the Pirates.”

“My God. This generation is doomed.” He scratched his head tiredly. “You should try to knock some sense into your friend’s head, aye, Wolfie? Since you seem like a good kid.”

Luffy scoffed. “Yeah. Tooootally a good kid.”You kicked his leg under the table. “Ouch.”

These moments were always nice. Just sitting around a table, eating cake and talking about anything that came to mind. The setting sun put orange shades over everything. The air felt lighter, fresher after yesterday’s storm; it smelled of chocolate, soda and salt. The weather was comfortable. Your heart, strangely at ease.

It’d be nice, you thought, if life had more moments like that.

The Mayor thanked Makino and said his goodbyes eventually. Makino, as usual, rushed you two to climb the mountain before it got dark.

“I gotta take a leak before we go,” Luffy said. You scowled.

“Rude.”

“Can I use your bathroom, Makino?”

“Sure.” The straw hat boy ran out of the bar, as Makino’s house was just beside it. The green haired woman looked at you. “I’ll take the basket in the kitchen for you, okay?”

The picnic basket, as usual. You nodded, and she disappeared behind the door.

You sat there, your back facing the front doors with your arms crossed, and let your mind wander back to what happened past night for the first time. Luffy was acting like nothing happened. Well, maybe in his mind, it wasn’t that important, as most things weren’t. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were looking too much into something unimportant.

...Why did, suddenly, you felt like it’d be difficult to be alone with him from now on?

Difficult in what sense? You couldn’t even explain why. The sudden embarrassment to look at him for too long. The… the weird thing in your stomach. It was all strange and stupid. You already knew Luffy for a long time, right? So there was nothing to be embarrassed of.

Makino appeared from behind the kitchen doors again, holding the picnic basket. “It feels weird to not put Ace’s slice this time… but I guess the others will be happy to have more food.”

Then, she looked ahead towards the doors.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir… we’re already closed.”

There was someone else in the bar? When did they get in? How didn’t you notice them?

At that exact moment – the air froze.

It was like time moved in slow motion.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could see every grain of dust dancing in the air as sunlight hit them. You became aware of everything, your senses sharpened to the maximum potency.

The scenery around you wasn’t painted in orange tones anymore. It became blue. Freezing cold blue.

All because of the presence behind you.

You already knew who it was before you turned around. Yet, for a second, you tried to deny it to yourself. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But your senses never failed you. Not even once. You were trained to recognize immediate danger before you learned to speak. It was ingrained in your body and soul.

You turned around slowly. Immediate danger would normally make you take a fight instance in the spot. But that was useless against who stood by the door. The sheer pressure of his power. It crushed your senses, oppressed you, made the air knock out of your lungs. You wished for a second that it’d be anyone; a powerful Marine, someone wanting to kill you for whatever reason…

Anything would be a better option than who stood at the entrance of the bar.

And yet, when you made eye contact, all of your thin hopes were crushed. Everything was crushed.

Scarpia Virgus.

He looked at you in silence.

The man stood with his impeccable posture as always, his hands behind his back. He wore an elegant black suit with a deep purple tie. His long beard and hair, as white as snow.

He was not wearing his owl mask.

He was not blinking.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move.

It’d better to have a warship with all its cannons aimed at you. It’d be better to have an entire batallion of Marine troopers to face. Anything would be less dangerous than his mere presence, the single fact that he was not wearing a mask.

And Makino saw his face.

No no no no no. Please do anything to me. I don’t care. But don’t hurt Makino. Don’t kill Makino.

Finally, you gathered the strength to get up.

“This is my grandfather, Makino.” You said without taking your eyes off him for a second. He could kill her in the blink of an eye. He could bring this entire bar down with a single strike of the katana he held behind his back.

And yet, you found a way to sound somewhat normal, to not let Makino understand how close to death she stood.

She made a surprised face and looked from you to him. “Oh, really? It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

He looked at her for the first time and your whole body tensed. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

All he did was open a serene lip tightened smile in response.

“Can we talk in the kitchen for a while?” You blurted out. “Privately?”

Once again, Makino looked from you to him repeatedly. “Uh… sure.”

She stepped aside and opened the counter’s door so you two could walk into the kitchen. You trembled when moved into the bar. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her.

When he walked past Makino, he bowed his head respectifully for a second.

You followed him shortly. Locked the door as soon as you closed it.

And then, you were alone with your grandfather.

He moved slowly, analyzing the area, as he always did. There was a small round table in the corner. Virgus sat down and put his long, black sheathed katana over the table.

He signaled for you to sit in front of him with his finger.

You obeyed.

The silence was excruciating. He was excruciating.

This was your worst nightmare. The thing you took every precaution to not let happen. The reason why you were so obedient for all these years, the reason why you trained and took commissions without a single complaint: so you wouldn’t be followed. So you wouldn’t be discovered.

But there he was – Scarpia Virgus, sitting in Partys Bar small kitchen. Your two worlds clashing. The one you hated, and the one you loved.

Grandfather wasn’t looking at you.

He took something from the inside of his suit: a small black velvet sack where he always kept his runes. Virgus shook the sack slowly. You could hear the sound of the small pieces of carved bones clacking against each other.

And when he spoke for the first time – your blood went cold.

“Monkey… D… Luffy.”

He dropped the runes over the table.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling panic and defeat wash over you. He knew about Luffy. He knew everything.

Grandfather analyzed the runes in silence for some seconds. You never understood what those symbols meant and you didn’t want to. He caressed his beard and hummed.

“He’s the son of a dragon as well. I understand why you were naturally drawn to each other.”

You didn’t know what that meant. All you could do was try to control your body, try to not shake. Not Luffy. Anyone but Luffy. Please, don’t hurt Luffy. Please.

You gulped.

“How did you find out?” It was hard to control your shaky breath. Your voice was small, uneasy, compared to his deep firm tone. “Was it Landon?”

“It was Crowley.”

Once again, the air was knocked out of your lungs.

Crowley?!

He found out about Goa Island and Luffy? How? When?!

And then, for the first time, another feeling mixed with your panic.

Anger.

Hatred.

Crowley. That demon. He pried into my life. He put Luffy in danger. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

Virgus intertwined his hands and rested them above his stomach.

“You’re angry. He played dirty. Crowley is ambitious… he wants to be the best.” He quirked one eyebrow. “But you broke several family rules.” You avoided his gaze, way too ashamed to keep looking at him. “How many people know about you?”

Lying would be pointless. You didn’t want to put a target on Luffy’s head, but to lie would be to condemn everyone else, too.

“Just Luffy. B-But he doesn’t know our family name…”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

You gulped again. Even trying to put your emotions on autopilot was useless; not with him right there, what he represented.

“B-But Luffy is just a boy from the East Blue. Even if he knew… even if…”

“That simple boy is Vice-Admiral Garp’s grandson.”

That was enough to make you swallow whatever argument you had.

Vice-Admiral Garp?!

What?! No – that couldn’t be true. B-But– Luffy barely ever talked about his grandfather; he just said he was an annoying old man. You’d never met him. His grandfather was a Marine legend?!

Scarpia Virgus scoffed. “You didn’t know that? I’m very disappointed. You decide to reveal your true identity to someone and don’t even bother to know about their background.” You felt yourself becoming small. Small, small, small, smaller under his piercing gaze. “You know our family have some sort of freedom to do whatever we want. But Garp… he’s not the type of Marine that can be bribed. If he finds out his grandson is friends with a Scarpia, we’re all doomed. Do you understand the danger you put us all through?”

You looked down at the table. Fear, anger, shame. It was all crushing.

“Does my f-father know?” Your voice became even quieter than before,

Your grandfather collected his rune pieces slowly. “If he knew, this whole village would already be reduced to ashes. He would let the boy alive to not bring us any trouble… but not everyone else, to teach you a lesson.”

Virgus put the sack inside his suit again and leaned his intertwined hands over the table. His movement, getting even a bit closer to you, made you tremble.

“Your father is intransigent. He should be, as the head of the family. He won’t understand that you’re young, and youngsters make mistakes.” He paused to let his words sink in. You knew what the unspoken part meant. Punishment. Grave punishment. Months worth of punishment. “But I do.”

Your eyes darted up to him once more.

Grandfather caressed his beard again.

“Your parents want to take you out of the business completely... so you’ll be in perfect condition for your marriage.”

“What?!” You blurted out.

They wanted to keep you locked away at Scarpia Island until the wedding? Like a prisoner?!

That’d be worst than death.

“I don’t want that to happen as well. So this is what you’ll do from now on.”

You held your breath. Was he proposing a deal?

“You’ll become my personal pupil. I’ll train you beyond the child’s play Landon has been teaching you. But you’ll leave this island right now and never come back.”

You froze again.

Leave and never come back?

Leave Luffy?

No. No, no, no. I can’t. I can’t leave the only place I’m allowed to be myself. I can’t let my small island of peace forever.

I promised Ace I’d keep showing up. I… I can’t.

I can’t leave my only friend behind.

You tightened your hands into fists. Your heart raced violently.

“I-I… I don’t want to,” you managed to speak somehow in a shallow, weak voice.

Virgus scoffed – and you realized you committed a mistake. He’d been very calm until that moment; now, he sounded angry. The least thing you wanted was to annoy him.

“You’re in no position to not want anything.” Small small small the size of a grain of salt. “The rule of our family is the rule of the strongest. And you are weak. You’re weaker than your butler; you didn’t even notice my presence until I was behind you. You don’t want to obey me? What are you gonna do about it? Do you think you can fight me?”

“N-No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can’t. You can’t fight anyone and win, because you’re naive. You haven’t understood yet that you’re a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you. Do you hate your brother? Do you seek revenge for exposing your secret? Do you want to confront your father? Do you hate this betrothal and want to get rid of it?” He leaned slightly closer. “Then be stronger. Be the strongest. Only then your voice will matter to anyone in this family.”

Virgus got up from the chair and took his katana again. “Say goodbye to him. I’ll be waiting in the harbor. If you disobey me… your father will know about this whole situation. And he won’t be as comprehensive as me.”

He started to walk away.

You gathered some courage.

“W-Why are you helping me?”

Helping. He was shattering everything that truly mattered to you.

But you knew he was right.

That was the rule of the family. The way out he offered was still much more merciful than what Scarpia Drachen would ever be able to offer.

He stopped.

“Because I see your true potential. And because you are my dear granddaughter.”

He left.

You sat there for a long time, staring at the table, until Makino walked in and asked if you were alright.

You weren’t.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

You would never be.

The climb up was silent.

Luffy babbled nonstop. You couldn’t speak anything. You couldn’t even look at him. Every step seemed heavy; with each of them, you felt as if a piece of your heart was dropping in the way.

You didn’t want to say goodbye.

But you couldn’t want anything. Not when Luffy, Dadan Family, Foosha Village would all be in danger.

It was all your fault in the end, wasn’t it? You weren’t careful enough; you were so sloppy that Crowley found out about your whereabouts. Crowley. I’ll kill him. I will actually kill him. This is not a joke.

Because of him, you’d never go back to Goa Island.

Because of him, you had to say goodbye to your only friend.

And it was stupid of you to wait until you were on top of your hill, that same place you sat down to eat watermelons all those years ago. The place you asked him if you could come back again. The same place where Luffy made his absurd promise.

It was stupid. It was silly. It was naive, as your grandfather called you.

But it felt appropriate.

You stopped walking.

Luffy looked back.

“Yo, Four Eyes, what’s wrong with you all of sudden?” He scratched his hair in a confused expression. “You constipated?”

Four Eyes. This stupid nickname. You weren’t even wearing glasses at that moment.

You gripped the handle of the picnic basket tighter.

For the first time, you looked up at him again.

The last rays of sun kissed his olive skin. Made his usually almost black eyes look dark chocolate. The wind hussled the trees around, played with the strands of hair on his forehead. You tried to memorize his slightly confused expression. You wanted to remember the face he’d make before you told him what you needed to tell, the last time he’d look… normal.

“Luffy, some… some things happened.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. Each word struggled to come out, as if you had swallowed sharp nails. “I received a call. I’ll… I’ll have to go back sooner.”

Luffy looked surprised for a second.

Then, his shoulders dropped.

Don’t make this face. Please, don’t make this face.

“Oh. That sucks.” He massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “You leaving tomorrow morning?”

“I’m leaving right now.”

Don’t make this face. Don’t make this face.

“Ooh. It must’ve been very serious, huh?” It was his turn to look down. He somehow managed to smile again. “That means next year you’ll have to stay double more days to pay for now.”

You could say you’d come back, just so you wouldn’t have to go through all this pain. But that’d be way too cruel – and you couldn’t be cruel. Not with him.

You handed him the picnic basket.

“I’m… I’m not coming back next year, Luffy.”

He gasped.

His smile immediately dropped.

“...What?”

You looked down again, feeling your entire face and neck burn.

“M-My family is moving to the New World. It’s… it’s very, very far. I’m… not gonna make it here. Not anymore.”

That was the best excuse you came up with. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth. You couldn’t look at him. Just couldn’t.

Luffy put the basket on the floor.

You were startled when he put both hands over your shoulders.

And–

And he was smiling.

But it was a weird smile. It looked strained. Had he ever smiled like that before?

“No biggie!” His voice sounded strained, and strangely high pitched, too, as if there had a lump in his throat. “I’ll set sail in three years. I’ll get a crew and a ship. I’m gonna find you there this time!”

Oh crap.

There was a lump in your throat, too.

The final orange rays of light made it look like he was genuinely shining. His eyes were shining. You tried to ignore what that meant.

“You’ve been going through all this trouble of coming to visit me every year, right? Because I’m still weak and I don’t have a ship. B-But it’s alright! I’ll be even stronger in three years! Nothing will stand in my way!”

Then you were putting your hands over his shoulders too.

“No, I’m the one who’s weak.” You shook your head. “I’ll get stronger, too. I’ll work hard, okay? So no one will stand in my way.”

“Right!”

“This is a promise!”

“Promised!”

You hugged him.

Usually, you wouldn’t be the one to initiate any sort of physical touch. But how could you not at that moment, when your chin was trembling and you felt like you were holding back a dam? You hugged him tight, gripped the fabric of his shirt. Luffy hugged you back right away, offering no resistance; he never minded hugs anyway.

Shit, you didn’t want to let go. Even if you met each other again in three years – it was still three years, and you didn’t know if you could survive three years without him or Goa or the peace everything brought.

But it was your best shot anyway. Luffy’s safety was beyond your wishes. Even if it’d hurt.

Finally, you stepped back. Luffy coughed, scratched his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were shining, but not in a happy way. His chin was trembling. God, his chin was trembling.

“Can you… hm… can you say goodbye to Dadan and the others for me?”

Luffy nodded. “They’re gonna miss your annual rent.”

You laughed and stepped back.

“So… I’ll get going.”

“See ya.”

You hesitated before turning around.

Your steps were heavy and slow; your shoulders were dropped, head hung low. This hill, this trail you already knew like the palm of your hand. All of these trees and bugs from the island that brought you so much comfort. You were saying goodbye to all of that. What if you had never climbed Mt. Colubo at 8 years old? How lifeless and colorless your life would be? You wouldn’t even know what fun meant.

What friendship meant.

You turned around abruptly.

He was still standing there, watching you go.

Your heart throbbed. Your hands were sweating.

“Luffy!”, you called.

He smiled and waved from far.

Your fists were tightened. You knew he wouldn’t hear if you didn’t yell. So you gathered all the air in your lungs for what you were about to say.

“Thank you for being my friend!”

Your voice echoed through the woods.

Luffy widened his eyes in surprise.

And then – he was ugly crying.

“Aw, come on, man! Why you gotta get emotional all of sudden?! Shut up!!”

You laughed. How could he make you laugh even in a situation like that? “I’m emotional? You’re the one crying!”

“I’m not crying!” He wiped his face with his forearm. But he was smiling through the tears, too. He laughed with you, too. “Get the hell out of here already!”

You sent him a last glance. A last look to keep in your memory. Luffy waving goodbye, grinning, at the top of your hill.

Finally, you turned around and walked down.

Then you were running.

Then you were crying.

Only when you were far enough. Only when you knew there was no chance anyone would see it. You crouched down in the middle of the bushes, hugging your own stomach, and cried. Quietly. Painfully.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

Your grandfather was right. Maybe you should’ve known it sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad if you had already known.

But it hurt anyway.

No rain fell over the Goa Kingdom the night you said goodbye to your best friend.

A/N: THAT WAS SAD :((

so basically, "heavenly control" = rokushiki with another name (the thing the cp9 members b doing if you don't remember). i imagine the thing about being hyper aware and in control of your body would be the basis for rokushiki before u learn the hardening and idk flying like sanji.

assassin teenager that fights with chains?? WELCOME BACK GOGO YUBARI

all that shit happened right when my girl was developing her crush lol :((

as i said previously, next chapter we'll finally get to pre timeskip!! how will they meet each other after so long?? what'll be their reactions?? I DON'T KNOW!!

As usual, feedback is MUCHHH appreciated! If you read until here please don't forget to leave a comment <3 See you!

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece #monkey d luffy #one piece x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy x you #one piece x you #op #op x reader #op x you #mugiwara no luffy

323 notes · View notes