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lowkeyren · 6 months ago

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—reject me not!

in which : when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right. (...it gives the whole hq a headache)

slight humor, idiots in love, mutual pining, misunderstanding, you tease him w/o realizing (n he gets back at u hehe), reader is a stellaron hunter, stellaron hunters wingwomen!!!, art by @/kkuekkue on x. reblogs are appreciated! please enjoy <3

wc: 4.2k // hm secret santa? HOHOHO @mikashisus, rayray!! u might pull ur hair out at some parts idk :joy: happy reading n merry christmas my little elf xx

"i think i like you."

the words leave your mouth quicker than your brain can second-guess them.

blade freezes mid-step, his back visibly stiffening. when he turns to face you, his sharp, cold eyes betray a fleeting glimmer of surprise, perhaps, or confusion —but it disappears as quickly as it came.

he stares at you, his eyes widening just slightly, the faintest crack in his carefully maintained composure.

but then, his lips part, and all he gives you is a single, flat response.

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?”

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods.

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries.

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?”

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one.

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light.

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you.

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented.

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged.

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?”

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry.

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from.

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you.

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.”

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway!

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night.

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable.

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end.

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool.

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”)

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere.

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him. it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise.

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands?

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would.

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those… for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

without a word, he hands the plushie to you.

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest.

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfaoo

MASTERLIST.

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ssweeterthanfiction · 3 months ago

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A Little Accident

finnick odair x district 13 nurse/medic!reader content warnings: none! summary: finnick crushing on the "cute" nurse. wc: 871

masterlist.

Pain wasn’t new to Finnick Odair.

He’d known it intimately, learned how to turn it off and on like a switch. In the arena, pain kept you alive. In the Capitol, it was dressed in silk and perfume. It was silent and smiling. It never left a mark that could be seen.

So when the hot steam from the kettle kissed the side of his hand that morning in the District 13 kitchen, he barely flinched. It wasn’t even a real injury, just a little red, a little stinging, a little accident. Nothing worth bothering about. But when one of the kitchen workers glanced over and said, “You might want to get that looked at. They’ve got medics down the hall,” he didn’t say no.

Because you were down the hall.

Finnick had seen you earlier, across the dining hall.

You moved differently than the others. Everyone else in 13 moved with urgency, with duty, with weight.

But you? You moved with purpose and softness. Like someone who hadn’t let the darkness here swallow you whole. You smiled when you spoke. Laughed when something was funny. Touched people with the kind of gentleness that made his chest ache.

He didn’t even know your name.

But he knew your face. And the way you made the world feel quieter just by existing in it.

So, yeah. He walked into the medical ward with a mild burn and an embarrassingly hopeful heart.

The air inside was sterile, still, and lined with white. But then there you were, standing at the supply shelf, quietly humming some tune he didn’t recognize, your fingers moving over rows of bandages and medicine bottles with ease.

His breath caught. Ridiculous, really. He’d once stood face to face with a man about to drive a spear through his chest and didn’t even blink. But now, walking toward a girl in a medic’s uniform that made his heart burst? That was terrifying.

You turned when you heard the door.

“Oh-” you said softly, surprised, and then your eyes widened just slightly. “You’re Finnick Odair, aren’t you?”

He gave a crooked smile. “Guilty.”

Your gaze dropped to the faint red mark blooming on his hand. You immediately stepped closer, concern knitting between your brows.

“What happened?”

He lifted the hand a little. “A fight with a kettle. The kettle won.”

That got the smallest smile from you, and he held onto it like it was something precious.

“Well, let’s get that cleaned up before it gets worse.” you motioned gently to one of the cots. “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

Finnick obeyed like it was an order from the Capitol itself.

As you moved around the room gathering supplies, he watched you, not in the way he used to watch people when he needed something from them. No games, no performance. Just awe, and a strange warmth pooling in his chest. He didn’t even want anything from you. Just…this. Just you voice. You hands. Your kindness.

You sat beside him, the tray balanced neatly on your lap. Your fingers brushed his as you took his hand in your hand, and the sting of the burn was nothing compared to the softness of your skin. You worked with practiced care, gently cleaning the area, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’ve got a light touch,” he murmured.

Your eyes flicked up, amused. “I’d hope so. People don’t tend to come back to medics who poke and prod too hard.”

“I’d come back either way,” he said without thinking.

You blinked. Then gave a shy little laugh, cheeks warming. “Well…let’s try to avoid that. Fewer injuries means you’re doing something right.”

Finnick wanted to tell you that avoiding injury had never really been an option for him. That in his world, pain was currency. Survival was bruises and burns and smiles that cost more than they were worth.

But he didn’t. He just looked at you, really looked at you. Your eyes were kind. Not the kind that looked through people, but into them. Like you actually wanted to know who someone was underneath the blood and bone.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Finnick found himself wanting to be known.

“All done,” you said after a moment, gently wrapping the gauze around his hand. “It’s a mild burn, you’ll be fine. Just try not to pick a fight with boiling water again, alright?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, and it was probably the first true thing he’d said all day.

You smiled at him again, soft, sincere, unguarded. And he swore it did something to his heart that he couldn’t name.

He left the infirmary with a neatly bandaged hand, and a problem. Because now that he’d felt what it was like to be seen by someone good, truly good, he wasn’t sure he could go back to pretending he didn’t crave it.

He left the infirmary that day with his hand wrapped in gauze and his mind spinning in a thousand directions.

Finnick Odair had survived the Games, the Capitol, Snow’s strings.

He’d been adored by the world. Feared by enemies. Desired by strangers.

He’d never been seen like this.

And he’d do anything.

Anything to feel it again.

#isa’s thoughts #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick #finnick fanfic #hunger games finnick #thg finnick odair #thg finnick #thg fanfiction #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick imagine

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fivestaralien · 5 months ago

Text

just a little kiss

-> chan x gn!reader

warnings+”: it's pretty suggestive so I'm just gonna say MDNI!! 18+!, lots of kissing, make out sesh basically, dry humping, low-key lipstick kink, illusions to giving head,reader is lifted up word count: 920 notes ��࣭⭑ if y'all know the picture I'm talking about, the one of the first picture on a brick wall and fans left lipstick stains on it, PLS send it to me I cant find it anywhere and I'll love you forever!!! had this thought and I wasn't going to stop thinking about it until I wrote it out soooo here this is!! pls reblog and comment!! it helps me the most and lmk what you think! stay safe everyone and be gentle with yourselves<3

// part 2

“It should be illegal how hot you are.”

Chan can’t hide the blush blooming on his neck and ears at the compliment. He shushes you jokingly while zipping and buttoning the white pants the stylist set for him. You were only dropping off lunch when Chan asked how you would feel helping him out with something.

“Only if you feel comfortable.” He ends after explaining the photographer wanted you to stain Chan’s neck and torso with kiss marks. They have a stamp that they normally use but when he heard you were coming, he knew the real thing would look even better. You obviously said yes. How could you resist loving up your beautiful boyfriend and physically be able to see it?

There were a few color options and the deep red was really calling to you. Chan sits on the vanity next to where you were standing, waiting for you to finish applying it. You face him with a smile.

“Here let me help.” He wipes some lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“How does it look?”

“I’m having a very hard time not kissing you right now.” His tongue poked out to wet his lips.

You smile and lean over to give him a peck to try and satisfy him for now but that obviously doesn’t do much. He brings you to stand between his thighs, cupping your face to kiss you. It was a little needier and harder than you expected but neither of you minded.

Chan coasts his hands down to squeeze at your waist, pulling you closer against him. Your hands rest on his bare chest and it takes everything in you not to rake your nails and leave a pretty red trial. He licks across your bottom lip and you happily let him in.

By the time you pull away for air all of your lipstick had transferred onto his mouth and chin, smeared all over. You laugh at the sight and grab a makeup wipe, cleaning off his now reddened face. Chan stares at your mouth with a heated stare. The ruined lipstick all over your mouth was getting him a lot more hot and bothered than he expected.

“Don’t look at me like that love. We don’t have time.” You kiss his pout.

Before you could reapply your lipstick he pulls you back in. He places both hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting you with ease to sit on the vanity. You rest your arms over his shoulders, one hand threading through his hair and tugging lightly. Chan groans, bucking his hips forward and you gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his cock.

“I need you so bad baby. We can be fast.” He pleads, continuing to grind against you. You can’t deny how turned on you were, but the lunch break was only so much longer.

“I’m sorry but we probably shouldn’t,” you check the time on the clock on the wall, “we only have 15 minutes before you have to go back out and I know you too well to think we can finish in that time.”

Chan pouts but nods nonetheless. He checks his appearance in the mirror as you hop off and whips out his phone, taking a few pictures. Loving the evidence of your affection towards each other on him. You finally reapply the lipstick, going to the couch to grab a few pillows to place under your knees.

“Baby, please tell me this is some sick joke.” His eyes darken as he catches a glimpse of the pillows placed conveniently right by his feet.

“What? The ground is hard and I don't want any bruises.”

You plant the first mark on the side of his neck, then a few to the front of his throat. Chan grips at your hips again, his breath becoming shallow as you continue to go down. The sight of you on your knees, lipstick stained mouth getting closer to where he needs you most was driving him insane.

“Maybe we can just use the stamp. You look too good right now and I don’t know if I can-”

The last few kisses are planted right above the waistline of his pants, causing his breath to hitch and his stomach twitch underneath your lips.

“All done” You whisper against his skin and look up at him through your lashes.

Chan throws his head back, holding back a loud moan. You were torturing him at this point so he lifts you to stand on your feet and keeps you at arms length. He mumbles sad thoughts out loud, looking anywhere but you and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry to laugh but does that actually help get rid of it?” You ask while picking up the pillows to put them back.

“If I even look at you I will cum. This is the best I could come up with.” Chan tilts his head straight up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

A staff member knocks on the door to tell Chan he needs to be out in 5 minutes which he couldn’t be more thankful for. You watch from the couch as he hastily throws the jacket on, careful not to mess up the stains across his body. Luckily he was able to fix his situation in time and leaves you with a kiss on your forehead.

“This isn’t over baby girl. I’m not going easy tonight.” He whispers against your ear then kisses your lips.

PERM TAGLIST: @velvetmoonlght , @amararosesblog

// all masterlists , skz masterlist

#kpop imagines #bang chan imagines #kpop smut #chan imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader

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mixingandmelting · 4 months ago

Text

Asked for No Pickles

Summary: A cashier gives you crap after you ask for no pickles. It’s unfortunate for the other that it happened right when he enters the building.

A/N: Part 2 here!

Dick:

Everyone says he’s the nice one. And he makes sure to play the part when he approaches the cashier.

Charming, disarming smile that gets most people to swoon, he flashes what others have dubbed as “the Dick Grayson smile” to the cashier(which he still doesn’t get. It’s just a smile-?).

“Sorry but my s/o asked for no pickles.”

He’s definitely working hard to keep his smile on, the cashier a piece of work himself when he scowls at him in disdain and starts slowly scanning him from head to toe.

“Listen here Mr. Boyfriend. Like I told your S.O. over there,” Dick kisses his teeth, not liking how the cashier jabs his thumb at your direction nor the mocking valley-girl drawl. “But it’s either you order the burger and remove the pickles yourself or get something else.”

Breathe Dick. Breathe. He’s no longer like himself from his Robin days; he’s an adult and peace is an option. But the urge to give the other a piece of his mind is so real. Show him what it's really like to roast a person. And he plans to, only to catch a certain someone in the corner of his eye.

“But you know, I do think pickles in burgers are overrated. They don’t really do much, you know?” He drawls out, ignoring the nudge you give him and cocking an eyebrow up “Just a few more crunch and tang that can easily be subbed in with onions and mustard.”

Hook, line, and sinker. The guy’s face blooms red, his eyes bulging from their eye sockets.

“Shut up! This place is a fucking fast food restaurant, if you something other than pre-ensembles burgers and get some fancy, personalized burger go get it some other place than wasting mine or other people’s time-“

The guy nearly slaps the hand that lands on his shoulder off until he turns around and sees the manager's not-so-friendly expression. With that he smiles in satisfaction, wishing the other the best of getting wrecked while taking you to the pizza place he first had dinner with you instead to spend the rest of the date.

Jason:

It’s a one and done deal. There’s no words, not even a syllable uttered. All he does is stand behind you, easily towering both you and the cashier. Looking down in condescension at the chump who was giving you a hard time about not wanting pickles at Batburger of all places. But of course, it wouldn’t be him if things were to simply end there.

“My s/o asked for. No. Pickles.”

“Y-yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

Under his breath, he grumbles “weak-ass” and “better be right away” loud enough for the guy giving you crap to hear. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he walks and waits with you at the pick-up counter.

“You okay? Did that guy say anything else?” He keeps rubbing circles on your arm as you lean closer and place a hand over his.

“Nah, just wouldn’t stop giving me a hard time with the whole pickles.” You instantly narrow your eyes when you see the expression he’s making. “You better not go after him tonight.”

He flinches. Awkwardly he coughs into a fist and turns his head away from you.

“Jason.”

“I won’t, I promise!” He raises both hands in the air only to lower them and quickly grab the food and drinks off the counter. After all, he’s not about to let you carry them when you had a shitty time to get it.

With that, you stick next to him for the rest of day to make sure he doesn’t go out and beat up the poor guy. You even cling onto him in bed, enduring all the teasing though for him, it felt like he was getting spoiled. You should’ve known better when you read the headlines the two days after the incident.

“JASON PETER TODD!”

With that, Jason bolts from the couch while you run after him, a rolled up newspaper in your hand that had a picture of the employee reading an apology essay at the front of the chain food restaurant. He did what you told him to do- leave him alone for THAT night! You didn’t say that for all the other days!

Tim:

Tim is a simple man. If anyone were to give you BS, he will make sure that person will be served ten-times as much one way or another. So when he enters the restaurant and witnesses the guy at the counter giving you crap for simply ordering no pickles, the cashier’s fate was sealed in ink, wax, and blood.

The same business smile that’s used for galas and talking to Wayne Enterprise’s partners plastered on his face, he gently grabs your hand when he reaches the counter.

“So sorry for the commotion, we’ll go eat somewhere else.”

And that’s all he says, turning around and walking out with you in tow. The rest of the day goes by with him comforting you and making sure you receive the treatment you deserve by taking you to the movies, walking at the park before suddenly pushing you into a department store and getting you tailored, branded clothes so he could have dinner with you at those fancy restaurants. Seems as normal as it could get with him, right?

It’s once he gets home, he finally lashes out. Every file he could get his hands on are opened on the monitors, not even taking him two hours to finish scanning through them because of how lackluster the cashier’s life was. However, he did find a plethora of black-mail worthy material including the guy’s most recent humiliating events and minor criminal activities. Rubbing his hands, he gets to work. Until he suddenly gets a text from you.

‘Leave the Batbuger guy alone.’

He pauses. How did you-Never mind. You’ve always had a knack of knowing what he’s thinking. He texts you, audaciously you later tell him, that he’s just working before going back to what he was doing.

He ends up being in a grouchy mood after you found out he was behind the anonymous reddit post regarding the cashier. He still thinks he was being lenient considering he only destroyed the guy’s social life instead of throwing him in jail but you apparently begged to differ, banning one week’s worth of cuddle sessions.

Duke:

He really tried to stay calm. Give the other guy a chance since he may never know, the other person might have circumstances to be that way.

“Look dude, all my s/o asked was no pickles.”

“Kid, can you not read? It says WITH pickles. Not WITHOUT.”

And with that, Duke’s gone. Genuine can not anymore. He was already having a hard time after witnessing you getting done dirty over asking once, ONCE, for a burger with no pickles. Now this? Like, excuse him, sir, but there’s a menu for customization right there?!

The next few words that come out of his mouth go uncensored, unfiltered. Logic getting spit out left and right, pointing out every single flaw like rapping bars. Forget about acting like a vigilante, he was raised in the Narrows and he was very well taught what to do, how to act, and what to say if anyone were to behave disrespectfully to him and to anyone he cares about.

“Duke? Duke! That’s enough” It’s literally because you have your hand on his arm that prevents him from taking a step forward and getting in the guy’s face. Well that and your expression which is a mix of laughter and horror but you and Colon (seriously what kind of name is that?) didn’t need to know about that.

Speaking of, it seems like he did enough damage when the other stays silent. Face fuming yet at a loss from where to start (more like trying to figure out what to say in his opinion, but whatever).

“Come on, let’s just go eat somewhere else.” He relents when you link your arm around his, looking at him pleadingly. Only to pause when he hears “fuck you” as the door gets close to being completely shut.

Instantly, the guy flinches when Duke snaps his head back towards him, making hand signs that he’ll be watching out for him.

To think people thought he’s the normal one. Puh-lease. There’s a reason why he’s part of the Bat family.

Damian:

“Damian, no!”

“Unhand me, Richard!”

“Not unless you put down that katana!”

Behind a bemused Red Hood, the guy, all tied up, shivers as Damian continues his attempts on attacking him. First off, how dare he insult you? Calling you stupid brat all the while accusing you of being untaught about ordering food. Only he, Damian, can call you names and berate you. Who does the guy think he is? Second, he’s not short!

If not for you hugging his arm, the man would’ve already been maimed (he’ll deny to his dying breath that he was blushing and enjoying you hugging him). But instead of saying thank you to you, what does he do? He proceeds to go on even more about you being a dumb kid who doesn’t even know how to eat a burger. And all because you asked for no pickles, too!

Which leads to now, where Damian had coincidentally found the same guy mugging an elderly lady during his patrol . And when he was figuring out how to break into the guy’s house too.

“I thought you don’t kill people anymore!”

“Who said I was going to kill?”

The struggling stops, Dick looking at Damian in confusion.

“Then why are you holding your sword?”

“To remove an appendage so he would start depending on his brain.”

The battle resumes, more fierce with Dick trying to warn about the risk of blood loss to which Damian replies it won’t if he’s careful and why would he care anyways.

“Uh, maybe it’s better we hand him over to the police.” Surprisingly it’s Tim who intervenes, awkwardly pulling up information on the mini-holographic monitor after performing a quick background check on the cashier. “It seems like he’s wanted for multiple crimes.”

“Well, might as well let the Bat Brat get a hit in.” Jason quips.

Dick covers his face, bemoaning why no one can be normal. Damian starts grinning victoriously. Needless to say, he was very satisfied especially when he got a thanks from a flushed you, knowing it was because of you he did it.

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin dc #tim drake #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dc imagine #duke thomas #duke thomas x reader #dc signal #signal x reader

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fushitoru · 7 months ago

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chapter 6: the house party a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton (7.4k)

a/n thank you as always to the pooks @/sinn-clair for beta reading this <333 i'll see you after the chapter is over!

prev. the fall | next. the rebound

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

One query occupies this Author's mind, be it ladies or mamas alike—what exactly are Miss Itadori and Lord Gojo up to in the countryside? Perhaps a trifling dalliance of hearts, or will the ton bear witness to a scandal uncovered when they arrive for the house party? After having arrived a week early—and positioned as the diamond of the season—one must guess that if all goes well and Miss Itadori plays her cards right, she will be showing off her new surely lavish diamond engagement ring. Yet, she must take great care, for to err in this delicate matter would be to jeopardize a most significant match with Lord Gojo. Only time shall tell the outcome of this intrigue.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Upon waking, the physician informed you that you had been unconscious for some days. Though no immediate danger threatened you, it had been long enough to send both families into a state of great disquiet. It seemed that even before you’d regained full awareness, a servant—who had gasped upon hearing your feeble request for water—had swiftly spread the news, for not a moment later Yuji burst into the room.

“SISTER!” he exclaims, hurtling his way towards you with heavy steps. You flinch in your position on the bed at the sound of his loud voice. “You are awake! Mama seemed like she would faint, Choso had almost popped a bloody vein, he looked like he was about to challenge Lord Gojo to a duel—”

“Yuji! My dear,” you had to shout, interrupting the boy’s ramblings, giving him an uneasy smile. “Lower your volume, please. I might faint back into unconsciousness due to the strain, and this time you will be the one dueling Choso.”

The pout Yuji adopts is akin to a chastened hound as he grabs a chair to sit next to you. You take this moment to surveil your surroundings, now with a clear headedness granted to you that hadn’t been granted before. There were fresh flowers adorning a vase on the table on your bedside, and you seemed to be wearing a shift, cleaned and changed out of your dirty and mud-ridden dress. There was a gauze surrounding your head, and you could feel some similar cloth on your ankle.

You turned to your brother. “Now then, what were you saying?”

He perks up. “Well, you’ve been in quite a state, dear sister! It’s not every day you’re injured before breaking fast. Choso practically spat his tea when he heard! And, of course, Duchess Gojo has been endlessly apologetic. Between Mama, Choso, and me, we’ve all been in quite a state. I daresay you’re hardly known for clumsiness—although you do have your moments on horseback.” At the memories seemingly pooling themselves in his mind, Yuji sniggers while you shoot him a look to not be testy. “And Gojo has been nothing short of attentive. No doubt the man’s come in to change your flowers more than the doctor’s visited you. He’s so caring, he even cares for a worm like you!”

You ignore Yuji’s jab, instead forcing yourself not to be gripped by the fact that Gojo had been so…attentive to you. Of course, it was as an indirect result of his sheer vexing nature that you were bedridden in such a manner, so it should not set your heart aflutter like a foolish girl. But your traitorous heart seems to hate listening to reason.

You begin to nod slowly. “And how many days have I been out? When is the house party?” Taking a gander at the windows in the room you were situated in, you could see the moon and star’s light filtering the curtains. You weren’t sure if it was the evening or night or completely early in the morning.

He looks up to the ceiling, as if calculating something, brows furrowed. “Today.”

Groaning, you put your head in your hands, playing with your hair as it falls through the gaps of your fingers. “Mother is going to kill me.”

“Oh, indeed,” Yuji replied with a hum, stretching his arms in a cat-like yawn. “Now, I must get back to my rest. The servants were gossiping near my door, so I thought I’d see for myself that you weren’t dead.” He kissed you on the cheek before heading to the door. “Sleep, sister, for I expect Mama will tire you endlessly come morning.”

Later, a gentle nudge at your arm and a few soft “Miss! Wake up!”’s roused you from sleep. You opened your eyes to find a maid hunched over you, relief clear in her expression as you met her gaze with a drowsy squint. “Miss, Lord Gojo requests your presence. May I allow him in?”

With a nod, you fought off your annoyance at having been disturbed. The maid, visibly flustered, hurried to admit Gojo, who soon approached with quiet footsteps. As you propped yourself up, arms crossed, you gave him a mildly reproachful look. “Gojo, you’ve roused me from my slumber. I trust this is a matter of utmost importance—-” you began, then trailed off as you took in his expression.

He was taut, as though his very sinews were wound tight. Standing rigidly, his jaw clenched, his gaze flitted everywhere but to you. Troubled, you tried, “Gojo?”

At the sound of his name, he looked sharply at you and seemed to gather himself. “Ah… forgive me.” He took a seat and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, artificial. “How is your recovery?” You eye him suspiciously. His leg is moving up and down anxiously, the action minute in a way that makes you think he’s not aware of doing it. The tight and strained smile on his face seems uncanny, his concern seeming out of place. “Well, as much as it can be for me bleeding out pints and pints of blood from my head,” at that, you note that he subtly flinches, “but all is well!” You spread out your arms and give him a dazzling smile, and his eyes follow. “I’m sure my mama and my maid are itching to rush in here to prepare me for the house party.” Giving him a playful glare, you continue, “And just for the pain you caused me, you ought to have two dances and a few pastries prepared tonight.”

At that, he looks at you for a quick glance before quickly turning away, seemingly collecting himself. In what you could observe in his previous expression, you were surprised to see yearning present in his blue eyes, filled with feelings that perplexed you. Gojo was acting very odd.

Then, he drew in a measured breath, his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He finally looked at you, a shadowed intensity in his gaze that made your heart beat faster—not in the way it used to when his eyes sparked with wit, but with a sense of foreboding.

"Miss Itadori," he began, his voice lower, lacking the familiar, teasing cadence. "I must apologize for the trouble I have brought upon you. I was… heedless, perhaps even reckless, and it seems I have caused you nothing but suffering."

You frowned, confusion beginning to bubble beneath the surface as he paused, clearly struggling to continue. He seemed almost pitiable, looking down at his hands, which were tightly woven together, his knuckles pale. But pity was not a feeling you had patience for. Not now. Not with Gojo of all people.

"Trouble?" you repeated, folding your arms. "I do believe that's an understatement, my lord. A mere misstep, surely?"

His eyes flicked back to yours, the corner of his mouth tugging in a grim semblance of a smile. "Understatement or not, it remains the truth," he replied, his voice nearly a murmur. "I cannot in good conscience continue this… attachment we have formed. The position of courtship our mamas have placed us in. For I fear it is you who stands to lose most dearly if I remain by your side."

You stiffened, his words crashing over you like a cold wave. "Attachment?" you said, bitterness coloring the word. "Do not dress it up with such kind words, Lord Gojo. An attachment is something formed with care, with respect—qualities you seem to find inconvenient."

He winced but did not break eye contact. "I will not argue with you," he said softly, voice steady in its regret. "Perhaps I am no master of attachments, nor have I ever claimed to be. But know that I had never wished to see you harmed—"

"Harmed?" you interrupted, your voice growing louder as anger swelled within you. "Is this some twisted apology, then? A show of remorse for the inconvenience of your whims?"

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but you did not allow him the chance.

"How very noble of you, Lord Gojo," you continued, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all this time, to simply say, 'Forgive me; I shall now remove myself from your life,' as if that makes up for the chaos you’ve brought upon me? As if I am but a pawn to be moved at your discretion?"

His face softened slightly, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn't fully expected—a quiet resolve beneath your anger, a dignity that refused to be bruised. "No, Miss Itadori," he said quietly. "I do not wish to see you as a pawn. After all, from what I understand is that you do not know what you desire—and I would only be exploiting that. I only… I only wish to relieve you of the burdens I seem to bring."

You laughed, the sound bitter and laced with fury. "Know what I want? As if you do, dropping pretenses with commoners and putting on your mask for the ton. And relieve me? I don’t think you understand what it is you’ve done, Gojo."

This conversation was dangerous. The emotions you hid under the air of nonchalance were steadily bubbling up, and it seemed that now, your sentiments were threatening to boil over at the sheer audacity of Gojo breaking off this arrangement, of what the ton would think today if he were to be avoiding you like the plague.

He flinched at the sound of his name on your lips, spoken with such venom. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no move to respond, simply watched as you gathered your thoughts, your gaze piercing.

"All this time," you said, each word sharper than the last, "I was led to believe there was something more to your attentions. And now, you simply wash your hands of it? You think yourself a gentleman for doing so?"

"Miss Itadori," he said, his voice strained. "I am—"

"You are a coward," you spat, and his eyes widened, the faintest hint of pain flashing in their depths. "Yes, that’s right. A coward, for trying to protect yourself under the guise of protecting me. All this talk of 'relieving me'—do not act as if your decision was made out of kindness." (a/n: OH NO SHE DIDNTTTTT)

"Do you not understand?" he interjected, a sudden fierceness in his voice, his composure beginning to slip. "This is not some petty whim, nor a game. My intentions… they were never meant to bring you harm, but they did. And I cannot bear to see it continue."

"Bear to see it continue?" you repeated incredulously. "Do you think I am some doll, some trifle to discard at your convenience?"

"That was never my intent!" he exclaimed, voice rising in frustration. "If you would but see reason—"

"Reason? From you?" you laughed bitterly, barely able to contain the fury welling up inside you. "Your idea of reason is nothing more than self-preservation, Lord Gojo. How convenient it must be to absolve yourself of guilt by deciding I am better off without you."

He fell silent, the anger in his face ebbing, replaced by a kind of desperation. "You do not understand," he said, quieter, almost pleading. "If I were to stay… if I were to court you in earnest, it would not be the life you think it to be."

"Then let that be my choice to make," you shot back, crossing your arms. "But no—this is not about my well-being, not truly. It is about you, Gojo. It has always been about you."

A tense silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft, uneven breaths that escaped both of you. For a moment, neither dared to speak, both caught in the tangled emotions that hung thick in the air.

Finally, Gojo looked down, his eyes shuttered, his voice weary. "Then hate me, if you must. But I am done with this charade."

"Hate you?" you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue. "No, Lord Gojo. Hatred would imply I care enough to feel anything toward you."

Your entire body seethed with fury, every muscle trembling with the strain of keeping yourself upright, sitting on your bed. You couldn't storm out—not with your wounded leg refusing to bear even a fraction of the anger swelling within you. Instead, you pushed yourself up on shaking arms, glaring at him with such venom that he instinctively stepped back.

"Get out," you spat, the words laced with ice, your voice rising as if to fill the entire room. "Out! Now, Gojo—leave me this instant!"

He froze, his shoulders tense as he looked at you with something unreadable, but he made no move toward the door.

"I said leave!" you shrieked—your voice shrill—the strain of it making you nearly lose balance, but you didn't care. Hot tears stung your eyes, and you bit them back, forcing yourself to breathe through the betrayal clawing at your chest. "Take your false apologies, your noble pretensions, and get out of my sight. Go, and never, ever darken my door again."

His mouth opened, as if he might say something—perhaps even something that might soothe the jagged edges of your heart. But your furious gaze dared him to try.

With a pained expression, he finally gave a nod, stepping back toward the door. He lingered for a moment, one last helpless look crossing his face before he turned away, leaving without another word.

The door clicked shut, and you were left alone, shaking with fury, your breath ragged. Your eyes were still on that door, your heart racing, as though expecting him to come back, to take it all back, to be the man you'd witnessed yesterday. But deep down, you knew he would not return.

The first glimmers of morning filtered through the heavy drapes as you stirred awake, still dazed from the events that had left you bedridden. The memories of Gojo’s departure settled heavily on your chest, like a stone dropped in a lake, rippling outward and disturbing any possibility of calm. Your mind drifted over the previous night’s argument, replaying words, and then, with a cringe, the heated moments where you felt every last ounce of self-restraint slip from your grasp.

A small part of you reasoned that you may have been rash—that your anger and hurt had overtaken good sense. After all, it was you who deemed your and Gojo’s match impossible. So why were you so hurt?

Before you could linger on these thoughts, there was a soft knock at your door.

"Come in," you murmured, propping yourself up gingerly.

What followed soft footsteps was Choso, his gaze warm and steady as he entered, carrying the ease of familiarity that only he could. As he approached, he pulled a chair beside your bed and gave a faint smile.

Choso stepped in quietly, his face softened by a rare smile as he approached. “Awake at last,” he said gently, taking a seat beside you with the care one might afford a delicate flower. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the entire house party."

He reached out, his hand resting on the crown of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a soothing rhythm. The fondness in his touch eased the last of the stiffness in your frame, a balm against the soreness both physical and emotional.

“You worry too much,” you muttered, allowing yourself to lean into the comfort he offered, your voice softening as his hand continued to gently scratch at your scalp.

“You look better today,” he said softly, continuing his familiar, soothing rhythm with his fingers. “Though, I’ll admit, you gave us all quite a scare.”

You managed a small smile, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly under his touch. “I suppose I was overdue for a bit of excitement,” you murmured, though the attempt at levity felt thin, even to your own ears.

Choso’s hand stilled momentarily, and his gaze grew searching as he looked at you. “What truly happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice low with concern. “There’s more here than an unfortunate fall, isn’t there?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing away from him. “It was nothing,” you replied, willing your tone to sound convincing. “Just… an ill-timed accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But Choso was not so easily deterred. He watched you closely, his brow furrowing with worry. “You’ve always been a poor liar, sister,” he murmured. “If something happened, you know you can tell me. I only want to understand.”

The quiet earnestness in his tone gnawed at you, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him. But the idea of revisiting last night’s turmoil felt too raw, too immediate. “I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, meeting his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “It was… nothing that can’t be mended with rest.”

Choso’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers resuming their gentle tracing along your scalp as if that alone could soothe whatever burden you were carrying. “Well,” he finally said, his tone filled with fond exasperation, “I won’t press you. But I trust you’ll speak of it when you feel you are ready.”

You gave a slight nod, grateful for his restraint. The quiet between you was comforting, grounding, as he continued his rhythmic motions, easing your thoughts in a way that words could not.

After a long moment, he broke the silence again, his tone lighter this time. “On a more cheerful note,” he began, a faint smile playing on his lips, “you’ll have another visitor tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though a part of you already guessed who he meant.

“Yes,” he confirmed, a knowing glint in his eye. “Sukuna received word of your injury and set off at once. He’ll be here by morning.”

You let out a small breath, a mixture of relief and trepidation filling you. “Tomorrow, then,” you repeated, feeling a hint of warmth at the thought. “It seems my brothers cannot resist making a fuss.”

Choso chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s what we’re here for. And perhaps Sukuna’s presence will help you feel a bit more at ease during the house party. He’ll see to it that no one bothers you unduly.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the thought of Sukuna’s reassuring, if overbearing, presence lifting your spirits slightly. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to,” you murmured, and, with a soft sigh, leaned back against your pillows, letting Choso’s calming presence ease the lingering shadows of last night’s ordeal, even if temporary.

For you had a beast of a social gathering to deal with today, the same one where the ton would descend upon the outcome of your match, ready to laugh at you: the house party.

“He what?”

You flinched, scowling as you clutched your ears. Nobara’s shrill voice was not helping your recovery, nor were her rough combs through your hair; but alas, beauty has a price, and it’s one you’re reluctantly willing to pay. You oh-so terribly wanted to politely decline the formal invitation, but it seemed that the moment you woke, your mother was dead set on getting you ready for what she thought was your engagement party. Little did she know that her not so future in law had gotten rid of you as if you were a stray animal latched onto him, but who were you to burst her bubble?

Perhaps you ought to dread the inevitable fallout from your mother when the truth emerged, but you consoled yourself with the thought of drowning your sorrows in champagne tonight, delaying her wrath for at least a little while. Besides, the prospect of Sukuna’s impending arrival tomorrow brought you some comfort; his unruly nature often served as a distraction from your own troubles.

You sighed heavily, meeting Nobara’s furious gaze in the mirror. “He merely said he wished to absolve me of any trouble he had caused.”

“Good riddance!” Nobara shrieked, her hand furiously waving around the hair brush in a way that made you wary, for it would not be pleasant for it to make contact with your already tender head. “He was never the one for you to pursue, for he lacks the honor of a true gentleman! And yet—oh, heavens!” She gestured at you accusingly with the brush, her tone turning sharp. “Why, pray, do you appear so disheartened?”

You open your mouth immediately, indignant and expecting your wit, your usual ally, to conjure a response for you, only to be left open-mouthed when it came up short. Nobara seemed to sense your hesitance, opening her mouth to unleash yet another accusatory and reprimanding remark, but you quickly moved to fill your silence. “I suppose I am just…offended that he dare reject me, the diamond. The ton will seize upon this dissolution with glee. They shall revel in my supposed failure, for it will be indicative of my failure to the Queen.”

Nobara arched a brow, her skeptical silence speaking volumes. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and before she could level another charge against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sister, are you decent?”

“Enter, Choso,” you called out, hastily adjusting the neckline of your pale pink gown and straightening the strand of pearls around your neck.

Nobara opened the door, though she made no attempt to soften her posture. The hairbrush remained firmly in her grasp, poised like a weapon, and Choso cast it a wary glance as he stepped inside. His presence brought a sense of calm, even as his expression betrayed some inner turmoil. He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit at the edge of your vanity, his gaze flickering between you and Nobara.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his silence. “Well, brother? Out with it,” you urged, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. “Very well,” he began. “Pray, hear me out. You know I have never hidden my disapproval of Lord Gojo.” At the sound of that name, you flinched, though you quickly masked it with a curt nod. Choso continued nonetheless, his tone steady but earnest. “In light of recent events, I have taken it upon myself to form…a contingency plan of sorts.”

Your curiosity was piqued, though Nobara snapped at you to sit still as she continued combing through your hair. “Go on,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Choso leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as though to ensure Nobara wouldn’t interrupt. “I have had the pleasure of conversing at length with Duke Nanami.”

You arched a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “The Duke Nanami?”

“Yes,” Choso confirmed. “He is an esteemed gentleman of considerable character, and, as fortune would have it, he is not currently pursuing anyone this season.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Choso’s intent was clear, and the weight of his proposition settled over you like an unexpected storm. Nobara, meanwhile, had stilled entirely, her hairbrush forgotten in her hand as she turned to gawk at your brother.

“Is this,” she began, her voice disbelieving, “your solution to Gojo’s appalling behavior? To thrust her into the path of another?”

Choso shrugged, unbothered by her skepticism. “A better match by far, I would argue. The Duke has no such inclinations to trifling or dishonor.”

You sighed, leaning back as the tension in the room thickened. “And what makes you so certain the Duke would even entertain such an arrangement?” you asked, your voice tinged with a weariness you hadn’t intended to show.

Choso gave you a small smile, his hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Leave that to me, dear sister. For now, focus on enduring tonight’s ordeal. Tomorrow, you may take comfort in Sukuna’s arrival—and in the knowledge that your prospects are not as grim as they seem.”

You exhaled, unsure whether to feel gratitude or exasperation, as Choso rose from his seat. Whatever plans he had in motion, they would unfold in time. For now, you could only prepare yourself for the chaos that awaited.

Gojo had outdone himself. Truly, magnificently outdone himself.

From the moment you entered the house, your hand resting lightly on Choso’s arm, the stares began. They weren’t the polite glances reserved for new arrivals at such gatherings—these were sharp, lingering, and accompanied by a cacophony of whispers that only heightened your unease.

You straightened your back, chin held high, determined not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing your discomfort. But it was impossible to ignore the way every eye seemed to follow you, every head turned to observe as you passed. Whatever it was that had stirred this interest, you were certain Gojo was at the heart of it.

Feeling the oppressive smog of stares, you knew where you could find solace: the drinks table, where you could down a flute of champagne alongside your stress. And right as you excuse yourself from Choso’s hold, who is now looking in the general direction of some men—particularly a gaggle of men that included Lord Geto and Duke Nanami, who were looking at something in the direction of the dance floor with interest. As you walk, you take in the scene: a beautiful chandelier, and red drapings and coverings embellished with gold, a bloody alternative to the Gojo icy blue. You’re not sure why today’s ensemble of colors didn’t include blue, but you believe it is fitting for what’s going to happen to you after this party is over and your mother finds out about the elephant in the room.

And as you glance longingly at the couples gliding across the floor, their movements synchronized with the lilting strains of the orchestra, your breath catches.

It is then that you see him.

Gojo Satoru is spinning a girl across the dance floor, his coat tails trailing like ribbons in the air. His lips move as he speaks, the tilt of his head paired with that too-familiar smirk. His partner laughs at something he’s said, a soft sound that reaches you even from this distance. You could almost identify her—there is no debutante in the ton you have not cataloged, no rival whose dossier you do not possess—but tonight, it does not matter. She is just a blur of chiffon and curls, another face in a sea of women enthralled by him.

Your chest tightens as you take in the scene, a memory unspooling unbidden.

Is this what your first dance with Gojo had looked like to others? Did you appear as enraptured as this girl, your steps as confident and sure beneath his lead? You remember his light touch at your back, his questions whispered so quietly you doubted even the orchestra could eavesdrop, his eyes full of a charm so practiced it felt like a spell cast just for you.

And yet now, the spell is broken.

He is steering her—steering everything—with such ease that it almost makes you laugh. Were he not so infuriating, you might have admired his grace, the way he seamlessly dominates both the conversation and the dance. His amusement is evident in the quirk of his brow, the corners of his mouth curling with every word she utters, no doubt answering his questions with meek enthusiasm.

She is simple. You can tell from the way he looks at her, the way he pauses before replying as if translating his own thoughts into something digestible for her. The way she beams at him—unaware of how deeply he calculates every move—is almost endearing. Almost.

He is drawing the same conclusions he did of you. Simple, lacking substance.

The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

But then the girl laughs again, a little too loud, and Gojo’s expression flickers for just a second—long enough for you to notice. His smile tightens, his gaze sliding briefly across the room as though searching for something more stimulating. It is instinctual, this glance, and his head tilts in such a way that you know it will land on you if you linger a moment longer.

Your heart stutters in protest, your legs already moving.

Punch table. Right.

As you near it, you grab the closest drink and down it one sip, desperate for the cool of the liquid to calm both your throat and your heated mind, furious with thoughts and anxiety of those around you. And it was just as you begin to set down the cool glass that in your periphery comes the man who soon tests your resolve.

“Miss Itadori,” a voice drawled behind you, the unmistakable lilt of smugness weaving through it.

You turned, and there stood Naoya Zen’in, his grin as unctuous as ever. He bowed slightly, though the gesture felt more like mockery than courtesy. “I must say, you are positively radiant tonight.”

You inclined your head ever so slightly, each movement deliberate. “Mr. Zen’in. How kind of you to say.”

He grinned, and the sight was unsettling, a serpent preparing to strike. “Radiant, yes. A pity Lord Gojo has finally come to his senses and moved on. I thought the two of you might actually prove interesting.”

Your stomach churned, but you kept your expression serene. “I fail to see how my affairs are of interest to you, Mr. Zen’in.”

“Oh, but they are,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering as though he were sharing a confidant’s secret. “Everyone is watching, you know. Wondering why Lord Gojo is…otherwise occupied tonight.” He tilted his head, motioning discreetly toward the mantle, a few meters away, where Gojo stood, entertaining and welcoming another lady.

Your eyes betrayed you, flicking briefly in that direction. Gojo’s figure remained in your periphery, still close enough to notice but far enough to be unattainable. You tore your gaze away, unwilling to feed Naoya’s glee.

Naoya leaned in, his tone growing more audacious. “Quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you agree? Though perhaps it’s for the best. You have much to offer, Miss Itadori—breeding hips, for one.”

The words hit you like a slap, your mind reeling in fury and disbelief. Your breath hitched, but before you could muster a scathing retort, something else caught your attention.

Gojo’s hand, resting casually against the column, tightened into a fist. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable—a barely contained tension that you might have missed if you weren’t already attuned to his every breath, his every twitch.

Still, you refused to look directly at him. Whatever he felt, it mattered not.

“Mr. Zen’in,” you began, voice icy and measured, though the rage burned beneath the surface, “your comments are as inappropriate as they are unwelcome. I suggest—”

“Sister.”

Choso’s voice interrupted like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. You turned to see your older brother approaching, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as they darted between you and Naoya. He came to your side, his imposing presence creating an impenetrable wall between you and the unwelcome intruder.

“Mr. Zen’in,” Choso greeted with a curt nod, his tone laced with a warning. “I trust you’ll excuse my sister. She and I were just about to take a turn about the room.”

Naoya’s grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, stepping back with a mocking bow. “Of course. Do enjoy your evening.”

Choso wasted no time, offering his arm to you. You took it gratefully, your legs unsteady as he guided you away from the scene and toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but firm, as though bracing himself for a truth he might not like.

You nodded, though the words escaped you. Your hands trembled slightly, and Choso placed his over yours, steadying you. “I saw the way you looked,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “At Lord Gojo.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your brother’s steps.

“Whatever he’s done—or hasn’t done—you are worth far more than his regard,” Choso continued, his tone resolute. “Do not forget that.” A pause. “Are you all right, Sister?”

“I am fine,” you lied, though your trembling hands betrayed you.

The evening only worsened from there.

More and more, you felt the weight of curious glances, the whispers growing louder as the night wore on. The absence of Gojo’s attention did not go unnoticed—least of all by your mother, who approached you and Choso with a determined expression, her fan snapping shut with a sharp flick of her wrist.

The warmth of the ballroom’s lights could not thaw the ice that slipped down your spine as your mother approached. Her movements were poised as ever, but the tightness in her lips and the fury barely hidden in her eyes told you everything. She stopped just short of you, her fan snapping shut with a sharp click that made you flinch.

“Explain,” she hissed, her voice low enough to avoid drawing the attention of onlookers but sharp enough to carve into you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced towards Choso for reinforcement, but his furrowed brow and subtle shake of his head told you he would not intervene—not yet.

“I… don’t understand, Mother,” you murmured, though the words tasted hollow even as you said them.

“Do not toy with me, child,” she snapped, her tone still hushed but more cutting. “The entire room is whispering. Where is Lord Gojo? Why has he not so much as glanced in your direction tonight? Why is he—” Her eyes darted to the waltz floor, where Gojo had just excused himself from yet another partner. “Why is he dancing with others while you stand here like a forgotten debutante?”

The words hit like a slap, and you flinched again, your gaze falling to your gloved hands. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the lump in your throat grew larger with every second.

Her voice softened but grew no less fierce. “What have you done?”

Your chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, you considered telling her everything—about the garden, about Gojo’s words, about how utterly humiliated you had felt. But then the heat of the ballroom pressed down on you, the glances from curious onlookers prickling your skin like needles.

You couldn’t. Not here.

So, you said nothing.

The silence between you stretched thin, your mother’s patience fraying with every passing moment. Finally, she straightened, her lips pressed into a pale line. “This is how you repay all that has been done for you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Do you even comprehend what this will do to your prospects? To this family? You have disgraced yourself, and worse—you have disgraced me.”

Her words left you hollow, the guilt settling into the spaces where indignation might have taken root. Still, you could not look up, nor could you summon any defense.

Your mother’s fan snapped open again with a sharp flick, the motion more violent than graceful. “We are leaving,” she declared, turning abruptly on her heel. “Now.”

Choso stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your elbow as if to steady you. You dared a glance at him, finding his gaze steady and quietly supportive. It was only his presence that kept your legs moving as you followed your mother toward the grand doors.

The weight of the room’s collective gaze bore down on you with every step. The music swelled in the background, mocking you with its cheerfulness. As you neared the exit, your feet faltered.

And then you saw him.

Gojo.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his posture uncharacteristically tense, his jaw clenched tightly, his usual easy confidence dimmed. His head tilted slightly, his eyes cutting through the crowd to meet yours.

Your breath hitched. In his gaze, you saw regret—yearning, even—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

But it didn’t matter.

You tore your eyes away, your jaw tightening as a steely resolve settled over you.

You would not break.

Not here. Not now. Not for him.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you drew in a deep breath, willing the ache in your chest to dissipate. Gojo Satoru had taken enough from you. Your heart, your dignity—no more.

If he thought you would crumble, he was mistaken.

He would regret this, you vowed silently.

And you would make certain of it.

The morning that came in a few days was no less disheartening than the night of the house party. The morning sun filtered weakly through the gauzy curtains of the drawing room, casting pale, lackluster patterns on the carpet. Even the sunlight seemed hesitant, as if it knew it had no place in the solemn atmosphere that hung over your family.

Even Yuji was solemn as you all sipped on your tea, the drawing room oddly quiet as you reflected in the aftermath of the past few days. The events of the house party still loomed over you. Your family’s hasty departure had been punctuated by the sight of your mother in whispered conversation with Duchess Gojo, their faces tight with the bitterness of dashed expectations. You had no doubt they had commiserated over your perceived recklessness and Gojo’s insolence, lamenting how the perfect match they had orchestrated had unraveled before their very eyes.

You had borne it all in silence.

But now, in the cold light of morning, your resolve felt brittle.

Your hands tightened around your teacup as you stared into the amber liquid, your reflection rippling with each shallow breath you took. Independence? That word felt hollow. You had fought for it, yes, but at what cost? The ton’s whispers had already begun. You could feel their weight pressing on you, suffocating in their judgment. The laughter and speculation at your expense would echo through parlors and ballrooms for weeks, if not months.

And yet, deep down, there was a spark of defiance. They thought this was your undoing. They thought you would crumble. But they had no idea.

"Why does it feel like we’re mourning?" Yuji muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but the sarcasm was unmistakable. "It’s not as though anyone has died."

Your mother’s sigh this time was louder, sharper, and followed by a pointed glance in his direction. “Yuji, do not jest,” she snapped. "This is no laughing matter."

Choso, who had been reclining with one arm draped lazily over the armrest of his chair, sat up straighter. “Mother,” he said cautiously, his voice soft but steady, “I think it’s time we address what’s truly troubling you.”

Her handkerchief stilled in her lap. For a moment, the room was silent again, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“Troubling me?” she repeated, her tone icy. “You think I am troubled, Choso?”

“Everyone is troubled,” Choso replied, his gaze flicking briefly to you. "But perhaps if you said what’s on your mind, we could all breathe a little easier."

Your mother’s lips thinned as she sat up straighter, her shoulders stiff. “Very well,” she said sharply, “if you must know, I am ashamed.”

The word hit you like a slap, even though you had expected it. You gritted your teeth, staring down at your tea to hide the flush of anger and embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“Ashamed of what?” you asked quietly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Of you,” she replied without hesitation. “Of the scandal you have brought upon this family. Do you think your actions have no consequences? Do you think the ton will simply overlook your…” She hesitated, clearly searching for the most cutting word. “Your antics with Lord Gojo?”

You felt Choso stiffen beside you, his protective instincts clearly flaring, but you held up a hand to stop him. You wouldn’t hide behind your brothers—not this time.

“I have done nothing wrong,” you said, your voice low but firm. “Gojo and I made a mutual decision that we were incompatible. We—”

“You humiliated yourself!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “And by extension, this family. Do you think people are speaking of him? No! It is you they ridicule. It is your name they sully.”

Your chest burned with anger and hurt, but before you could retort, Yuji shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “This is getting out of hand…”

“You think I care about their opinions?” you snapped, finally lifting your gaze to meet your mother’s. “The ton has always been cruel. They would find a reason to gossip no matter what I did. I refuse to live my life pandering to their expectations—”

“And look where that refusal has left you,” your mother interrupted, her voice shaking with fury. “Unmarried. Ruined. Who will have you now?”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your lips parted, but no words came out. What could you possibly say to that?

The silence that followed was deafening.

Until a voice, smooth and amused, broke it.

“Now, now, Mother. I know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but let us not turn your theatrics onto our dearest sister.”

All heads turned toward the entrance, where a figure lounged against the doorway, his presence commanding without even trying. There he stood—Sukuna, your brother, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had kept you waiting for days. Both you and Yuji involuntarily gasped in excitement, while Choso only shook his head in amusement and crossed his arms.

He strode into the room with an air of nonchalance, his tailored attire immaculate, his smile one of mocking amusement. His gaze flicked to your mother, then to you, lingering for a moment as if to appraise the damage left in her wake.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling. “I trust I’ve arrived in time to save you from a most tiresome sermon.”

Your mother bristled, but her voice faltered, her ire now redirected. “Sukuna, this is hardly the time for your irreverence—”

“And yet here I am,” he interrupted, dropping into a chair with the kind of ease that only Sukuna could muster. He leaned back, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as it fell on you. “I thought you might appreciate a reprieve. You seem to have had enough lectures for a lifetime.”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You had severely underestimated how much you missed your elder brother, seeing his presence stir a fondness and comfort you hadn’t felt ever since he left for Europe. And it seemed that your brothers shared your sentiment; Yuji was basically on his haunches, doing everything he could not to leave his chair to tackle Sukuna, and Choso barely holding in an amused smile.

“Still causing chaos wherever you go, I see,” Choso said dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

Sukuna smirked. “Someone has to keep things interesting.”

Your mother huffed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rose from her seat. “I refuse to be made a fool in my own home. Sukuna, do try not to corrupt your siblings further while I attend to matters of actual importance.” She swept out of the room with her usual imperious grace, leaving a silence in her wake.

As soon as she left, you left your chair to basically jumping on him, hugging him tightly as he reciprocated your hug with wrapping his big arms around yours with equal fervor. “Kuna,” you whispered, burying your face into his chest as the tears started flowing. His presence surrounded you, offering you a comfort and familiarity that the eventful weeks, ever since your debut, hadn’t offered

Sukuna looked down to you with a raised brow as he patted your head affectionately. “Well, that was entertaining. Now, who’s going to tell me what truly happened while I was gone?”

prev. the fall | next. the rebound

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n hi everyone!!! so i lied and said the update wasn't gonna take as long #womaninmalefields BUT thank you for your patience <3

so uh....we are now gonna enter the arc with DRAMAA. there will be yearning, there will be angst, and soon after, there will be fluff. idk if anyone needs to hear this, but, again, this series will have a happy ending. if anyone is sad, don't worry. i'm going to make gojo grovel <3

SUKUNA IS BACK SUKUNA IS BACK what do we think?! spoiler alert this is what sukuna will wanna do to gojo after reader spills the tea

THANK U FOR READING!!! rest assured reader a BADDIE there will be some showing ankles and lowering bustlines to start our reputation era and infuriate gojo but u didnt hear that from me !!!

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

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webism · 9 months ago

Text

KINKTOBER DAY THREE: bondage with nanami.

kinktober masterlist

Nanami, your other half, is meticulous and an overbearing perfectionist on the best of days. You love it about him, love the way that when it comes to you, everything has to be perfect to no fault. You love his dedication to the simplest of things, his attention to detail, you love his patience.

You don't love it when he's using said perfectionism to prolong your time being tied up. You see it in his pretty eyes, that knowing look—he's not taking his time for the sake of perfection, he's taking the time to perv on those frustrated whines that you let out the longer he takes.

Your wrists are bound at your front, a soft shibari rope wrapped around your skin. He had picked it out himself, opted for a more expensive option as it was less likely to irritate your skin—after all, you're being bound to further enjoy yourself, not to decorate your skin with marks he'd much rather leave with his mouth.

Still, he works on the rope around your waist with no sign of eagerness or a rush towards completion. Instead, he continues to watch your body in what looks like a clinical examination, hands working gracefully as he knots the rope against your skin and builds a harness, no doubt good to hold onto so you can't start to shift away once thinks become overbearing. You sit on your shared bed, eyes heavy and stuck on his face as he works—calculated ministries become just a little quicker as you pout.

"Ken," you whine, subconsciously trying to pry your wrists apart to grab at your lover. Your fingers find nothing but air, your arms bound, rendering you useless.

"I'm almost done," he says calmly, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He finishes before any other complaints can leave your lips, though you suspect he could have been finished fifteen minutes ago if the sight of rope against your bare skin didn't send blood right down to his cock.

He stands back from where he's working with satisfaction, a pleased look in his eyes that makes you want to squirm, wanting to crawl into his lap and beg forgiveness for whatever you might have done wrong in your past life if it means he'll just fuck you already. But you keep your head up, eyes set on his.

Your legs are bound thigh-to-calf, your throbbing cunt forced onto display by your bindings—if Kento were a worse man he'd leave you like this, bound with a vibrator against your pretty clit for hours on end as he files some paperwork or catches up on the novel he's been reading.

And although the thought is enticing, turning your moans and drawling orgasms into ambient music for the house you share, he's a selfish man at heart and could never deprive himself of you—not when you're like this.

"I think you're beautiful, my love," he leans over you, brushing a cool knuckle over your warmed cheek. A flush spreads across your cheeks, warmth blooming in your belly. His touch doesn't last long, his hand trailing off your shoulder and dipping down to tug at the rope that twists around your torso.

"You're perfect, you know that?" He tries again, and pulls so hard on your rig that your back meets the mattress and, all of a sudden, your Kento is hovering over you, cock hard against his slacks. "And you know that I love you."

"I know," you nod.

His hands fumble for his belt, and he's hooking his cock out of his pants in the same breath—too eager to fully undress. "I appreciate your trust in me," he tugs at a rope around your thigh to get you just that little bit closer to him; you can feel the heavy weight of his length against your stomach—and he can see just how deep inside of you he will be soon enough, "Though I fear seeing you tied up like this… it makes it hard to be gentle with you, love."

You lean up to kiss his jaw, his lips, anything you and reach while bound so intently. "I don't need you to be gentle with me. I am at your disposal."

Something in your lilt breaks the band of resistance that holds your lover still—he groans as he presses forward, pushing into you without any preamble. You're beyond wet, he hardly feels bad for not prepping you on his tongue beforehand. He has plans of ruining you with his mouth once he's fucked you full of him. "How can I possibly deny you?"

As he bottoms out inside of you, Kento grabs the rope that binds your wrist and lifts them above your head, pressing them into the sheets and rendering you completely motionless. Try as you might, you can't move an inch—you're entirely at his lust-glossed mercy. "That's better, hm? Much easier now, yes?" He pushes deeper into you, grunting out as he fills you in. "You don't have to think, don't have to move, you don't have to anything but take me."

The words are familiar to you—you've heard them hundreds of times before. In the throes of ecstasy, they sound like a lullaby to you—though this time there's some truth to his words. A genuine lack of need to move, to speak, to try and keep your hips at pace with his. As Nanami pulls back, drags his aching cock out of you before rutting right back into your tight core, you're able to completely relinquish control.

And god is it narcotic. The ruthless pace that he sets, muscles that cord his arms keep you in place as he bullies his cock into you. His mean thrusts are occasionally broken up with an open-mouthed kiss to your waiting lips, though the world is spinning too fast for you to register much other than raw, undiluted pleasure. You barely have the voice to announce your orgasm, let alone ask for permission to cum, so when your orgasm wracks through you like tropical waves against a cliffside, your lover can't help but bite at your exposed neck in feigned disappointment.

"Oh, love," he coos, but doesn't slow the roll of his hips even slightly. "You know I don't like it when you don't use your words."

You can't, not with the way he's fucking a second orgasm into you before you've even recovered from your first. Not when you're bound so tight that you know you have no way out of his ministries, not that you want one. You haven't felt so blissed-out in a long time, and there is no place safer to lose your mind than in Kento's arms. Though there's a dangerous lilt to his voice when he leans own, thrusts sharp into your overstimulated pussy, and whispers against your ear. "You're going to wait, and you're going to cum alongside me, love."

It's all too much, your vision is near-white with hot pleasure and you worry that you'll never think a straight thought again if he keeps rendering you dumb like this. You try desperately to climb up the bed, away from his overwhelming size, but he's got an iron-wraught grip on your bindings. "Ah," he chides. "Don't run, take me- I know you can."

The moans that rip from your throat are made for porn, especially in conjuncture with his groans and bitten praises. It's not long before his ruthless pace starts to falter, and the slap of skin against bruising skin starts to stutter as your lover reaches climax.

"With me," he chokes, the hand that had held your wrists up finally falling down to rub relentless circles over your sensitive clit. You're overwhelmed, orgasm cresting almost painfully as your mind blanks and you come harder than you think you ever have before. Nanami releases inside of you, his free hand holding you as close as humanly possible through your bindings.

And once he's cum, stolen a few breaths to steady himself enough to lift himself up and look down at you, Kento Nanami fears he might be a bad man. Because with the way you look, tear stained cheeks and complete lack of freedom, he can't help the words that slip from his lips.

"You can handle another, can't you, love?"

tags: @medusamara5 @echodead @aliisinwonderland @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

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#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #kento nanami smut #kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk x you

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eyelessfaces · 1 month ago

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before dusk

bob reynolds x reader

summary: As big of a place the Watchtower was, living as a fresh couple surrounded by a whole team of trained soldiers still made it feel a little tight and was inevitably bound to strip you off any kind of intimacy – Ava’s fake gagging whenever you and Bob were up close when she entered a common area never failed to ruin the moment, and Alexei’s well-meant but clumsy reminders for you and Bob to use protection in front of the whole team during dinner made it everyone’s turn to fake gag. So when Bob brought up the subject of going away for a few and the idea of it started to bloom inside your mind, you knew there was no turning back – the prospect of having Bob all to yourself for a couple of days was too exhilarating to consider chasing it away.

or, you and bob take a proper break from new york.

tags: fluff, domestic fluff, getaway, established relationship, soft bob, he fell first and harder, implied smut, kissing, passenger princess bob, bob listens to 90s rock, love confessions

word count: 1.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3 | @eyelessupdates

buy me a coffee ♡

It’s a three hour drive from New York.

You would have had plenty of other options for nice places closer than that, but you want to admit the change of scenery is nice, and hey, Bob asked and went out of his way to organize that weekend, from picking the place you would rent down to the snacks you would put in the glove box.

As big of a place the Watchtower was, living as a fresh couple surrounded by a whole team of trained soldiers still made it feel a little tight between mission briefings, training sessions and strategy meeting, and was inevitably bound to strip you off any kind of intimacy – Ava’s fake gagging whenever you and Bob were up close when she entered a common area never failed to ruin the moment, and Alexei’s well-meant but clumsy reminders for you and Bob to use protection – “even for superheroes”, he’d say – in front of the whole team during dinner made it everyone’s turn to gag and groan in secondhand embarrassment.

So when Bob brought up the subject of going away for a few and the idea of it started to bloom inside your mind, you knew there was no turning back – the prospect of having Bob all to yourself for a couple of days was too exhilarating to consider chasing it away.

You figured it would be a battle to get Valentina to let you go, but Bob had pulled the sensitive strings and turned it to his advantage, insisting it would be good for his mental health to get some fresh air away from New York; Valentina had immediately agreed, probably too afraid to deny Bob anything and rub him off the wrong way ever since the incident – it was nice to have that kind of pressure over her, in some way.

Bob’s excitement easily shines through despite the depressing music pick (though you do dearly love Radiohead, Alice in Chains, and Jeff Buckley) and makes the three hour drive fly by. He’s a decent copilot when he’s not focused on watching and pointing out cow herds, and you can’t help but relish in how talkative and relaxed he is around you as he confidently talks about anything and everything that crosses his mind, compared to how nervous and fidgety he used to be the first few times you found yourselves alone and he could barely contain the big fat obvious crush he had on you.

The house seems small from the outside but more than enough for just the both of you, and you’re quick to understand that you’re mainly paying for the scenery rather than the house in itself; it’s in the middle of nowhere, overlooking the endless horizon of fields, and you know the landscape promises a lot once the sun will begin to set.

Bob insists on unloading the car trunk and carrying your luggage, arguing that you drove so he carries, and things are easier to lift ever since he got the serum.

He sets all bags down in the bedroom when you find it after a tour of the house and is quick to lunge onto the bed and persuade you to join him.

His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you close to him, face sinking and nose nudging into the crook of your neck, hot breath warming the sensitive skin there as he asks if driving didn’t tire you out completely.

His tone is half genuinely concerned, half tainted with an underlying suggestive intent before he lazily starts leaving trails of kisses where his face is buried, and you had been foolish not to expect it when you should have known he would get his mouth on you the moment you found yourselves alone – would get it everywhere – because this somehow was part of the whole point of that trip.

If you were fine before and driving didn’t properly wear you out, this should be it. You’re still pleasantly hazy and blanked out by the time Bob helps you clean yourself, or rather does it all by himself while you lay there from how boneless you feel, like your body is there but your mind isn’t or the opposite, you can’t really tell at this point.

The silence that settles afterward feels brand new and like no type of silence you could have experienced before in the Watchtower, as it in fact was never really fully silent. Your fingers absentmindedly card through Bob’s hair as he lies with his head against your stomach, lulled by the steady rise and fall of your breathing and the sounds of birds chirping outside. You could stay here like this for the whole weekend if it didn’t mean wasting that heavenly setting, and it indeed is a battle between you and your body to drag yourself out of that bed because you know you will miss the sunset if you don’t.

You take a quick shower while Bob prepares sandwiches for you to eat on the walk you planned, and once you’re all set, you lock the house and roam around the fields and trails. Bob’s hand is securely holding yours as you walk unbothered by where it could lead you, but you know once you find a spot over a hill that is high enough to overlook the whole landscape and that gives you a breathtaking view of the bucolic setting, you’re where you were meant to be all along.

You sit side by side cross-legged in the soft grass, a gentle breeze caressing your hair as the sky begins to change under your eyes, watching like you’re witnessing mother nature’s own show. It’s quiet in a way it never is in New York, never could be. You can hear the humming chirps of crickets, the birds singing, the occasional rustle of the wind in the grass, and the colors of the sky shift in a way you have never so intensely observed before as the sun starts to set.

“God, this is the best decision we made this year,” you mutter quietly, like it could somehow interrupt the show if you talked too loud, your eyes fixated on the horizon.

Bob doesn’t answer right away, not looking at the sunset anymore. He eventually hums his agreement, unable to help the grin over his face at the sight of you staring ahead, observing the pink clouded orange sky – and he doesn’t know if it’s the way the orange hues reflect over your skin, the glint in your eyes, the starstruck look and awed grin over your face, but he says it.

“I love you”

It falls out of his mouth like it’s the most natural thing that could ever be said at the moment even despite it being the very first time it happens. It’s been sitting on his tongue for a while now, and it feels relieving, somehow, like a weight is lifted off his shoulder, like a clogging breath taken off his chest.

That is until the silence fills in again when you don’t react and respond immediately and it all comes back right away; an overwhelming surge of anxiety blooming inside, the familiar feeling of realization when he figures he said something wrong, the mask of uncertainty slipping onto his face as he realizes he probably said it too soon and you probably don’t feel as intensely, the–

You see it happening, you have grown to know him too well not to; the way his mouth opens just slightly, gaze searching yours in creeping panic as he looks for an exit, anything to defuse the tension he thinks he has set. He’s about to talk again, you can feel it, he’s about to stumble on his words as he backtracks or apologizes or anything. Your hand comes to cover his mouth before he gets a word out. His eyes widen a little, then close when you let your hand go, leaning in and kissing him to chase the lingering doubts away. “I love you too”

All trace of uncertainty has disappeared off his face and has made room for a wide, bright smile. “That’s great,” he nods, the hint of a slight blush appearing over his face when you hold it.

You reciprocate his smile, do your best not to laugh. His habit of saying the most fortuitous things at the most random occurrences is endearing.

More than he knows.

—

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wheeboo · 11 months ago

Text

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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monstersflashlight · 2 months ago

Text

Patreon Commission for Silentmoor

Request: I would love more than anything for tooth rotting fluff (NSFW optional but always welcome) with a tall muscular/chubby reader.

A/N: This is mainly bc I fucking love strong women that could squeeze my head till it pops, also it escaped my power and ended up being way longer than expected. Enjoy!

Distractions and concussions

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || porn with feelings, oral sex, body worship, (light) dirty talk || tw: internalized fatphobia

You’ve been eyeing him for the past week. He’s new at your local gym, and you’ve been noticing him more than anyone else. Truth be told, he’s the only monster on the premises, so everyone is staring. But for you… For you is different.

You don’t stare at him because of his monster-ness (well, not just for that). He’s like really hot. His brownish fur, his tall horns adorned with a couple rings and the way he grunts when he’s benching weights… Fuck, it does things to you. But you try to stay away, too self-conscious about your own exercises.

But for some reason, today you can’t seem to shake the feeling he’s following you. It must be because you both are working on legs today, but it feels like he’s in your peripheral every time you look over your shoulder. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s staring at your ass. But that can’t be.

You are lost in your thoughts when you hear a thud behind you. When you turn around, your minotaur crush is on the ground with the weight bar over his abdomen, looking pitifully at the ceiling. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You rush to his side, and see the already-turning-purple spot on his forehead. “You hit your head! We need to call a doctor,” you rapidly say, grabbing for your phone, but he stops you.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he grunts, pulling the weights off him and sitting up with a sigh. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.” It doesn’t sound like nothing when he tries to get up and groans in pain. You extend your hand and help him to his feet, not leaving his side just in case.

“You could be concussed, it is something,” you try again, worried about him. In the back of your head, you realize it’s the first time you two interact, and it makes you feel nervous for some reason. But your worry overpowers those feelings.

“We should call a doctor,” you repeat. He shakes his head, covering the bump in his forehead with a hand and wincing.

He whispers something under his breath that sounds a lot like “You did enough looking like that,” but you can’t be sure that’s exactly what he says. “I don’t need a doctor, just maybe… supervision?” He offers, looking up at you from the floor and… pouting?

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused and giddy when the butterflies in your stomach start to fly around.

“I mean… If you are so worried maybe you can keep me company for the rest of the evening so I’m not alone if symptoms for a concussion occur.” Is he… is he really asking you out right now?

“Are you asking me out after getting a concussion?” You say with a tiny smile and excitement blooming inside of you.

He smirks and winks at you. “Possible concussion. And yes.” And then it feels like he gets back to himself and adds: “If you want, that’s it.”

“Yes,” you say without thinking. “But maybe… Maybe lets shower first?” You ask after feeling another drop of sweat travel down your back.

“I’ll be waiting at the front,” he says with a smirk, squeezing your shoulder as he walks to the locker room. You stare at his back, not believing what just happened.

You never showered so fast in your life. And true to his word, when you get out, he’s leaning against the wall, waiting for you in fresh gym clothes that make him look good enough to eat. He looks you over and licks his lips, making your heart skip a beat. And he only makes it worse when he extends his hand to grab yours and walks to the coffee shop next door hand in hand.

It’s the best first date, ever. So good that after an afternoon that feels as easy as breathing, joking and flirting and overall being incredibly happy with him, you aren’t ready to say goodbye. He insists on walking you home, and you allow it, wanting to spend more time with him.

But when you arrive to your building, you don’t have to think too hard before you are asking him: “Would you like to come inside?” You aren’t usually so straightforward, but you’ve never felt a connection so intense with anyone before.

“Inside of you? Hell yeah,” he jokes with a smirk. You blush as hard as ever, hitting his arm lightly as you laugh out loud nervously.

“I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.” You open the door, stepping inside and looking at him.

His smirk only grows bigger, almost predatory, when he says: “Well, I do mean it that way.” He steps inside your apartment and closes the door behind him.

You stare at him for a second, but you have to make sure. “You… You really want to?”

“To fuck you? I never wanted something so badly,” his voice gets rougher, and his hands find your waist, pulling you to him with such strength you can’t stop your body from colliding with his. “But I’m also fine if you just want to hang out for a while longer, anything you want to happen, can happen.” You nod shyly, looking down as he looks at you intently. So you are a bit unprepared when he asks: “Can I kiss you?”

You think about it for less than a second before you are nodding, unable to say anything else. He closes the distance between the two of you and your brain implodes. The kiss is everything and nothing at once. Everything you wished for and nothing you ever imagined. His lips are a bit rough, not as smooth as humans but so much more pleasurable, and they make your knees go a bit softer as he holds you tight and starts kissing down your neck.

“Can I worship you like you deserve?” He asks between kisses, your knees weak already, and your pussy so wet it’s starting to feel uncomfortable.

“I… I don’t know if I…” You stutter, all the worries coming at you like a tsunami.

He stops immediately, pulling back but not releasing his hold on you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been told I’m not that attractive,” you confess after a second of doubt. He’s been so nice all day, it’s only fair to tell him the truth.

“Who told you that? I will haunt them down.” You chuckle at the anger in his tone, but he doesn’t seem like he’s joking. “I mean it. You are gorgeous, the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He sounds sincere, and that makes your brain do crazy things.

“Aren’t I… too big? Too strong? Too heavy?” You let out a rush of questions, showing him all your insecurities because he makes you feel safe.

“And what?” You stare at him in confusion. “What if you are any of that? That doesn’t mean you can’t be the hottest woman in the room. That doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And definitely doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss every inch of your body and end up slurping your juices until my whole face is soaked.” You shiver at his words and he notices, of course he does. “Do you like that? Do you want to come all over my face, gorgeous?” He teases with the biggest smirk possible.

“Yes, please.” It’s all you have to say before guiding you to your room (it only takes two tries before he finds the correct door).

He undresses you slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin until you are a mess of desire and pleasure, and as he’s lowering your panties down your legs, kneeling in front of you, he blows your mind once again: “I’ve been waiting to taste your pussy since the first time I saw you at the gym.” You blush, not expecting him to say that. “I love the way you blush, and I’m going to enjoy it even better when your whole body is pink with exhaustion after I’m done with you.”

You groan and he smirks up at you, pushing you lightly until you are sitting at the edge of the bed and his big body is between your thighs. And then is game over for every coherent thought in your brain, your whole body shakes as his big rough tongue swipes over the wetness between your thighs until you feel like you are losing your mind.

You keep chanting his name because it makes him smile, and the feel of his stretched lips against your pussy drives you to the next level. As he eats your pussy, his hands travel up, squeezing, groping and pinching every part of your body he can, showing you with each caress how fucking amazing he thinks you are.

And it doesn’t end there, because with each swipe of his tongue, the responding groan he lets out only makes you wetter against his mouth. When his fingers join his tongue and he pushes two inside your aching cunt, you almost jump off the bed as your whole body reacts.

He chuckles against your tender flesh, and you grab his horns in retaliation, caressing the base and making him groan like a whore between your thighs. It makes you feel powerful, rubbing your pussy against his face as you ride his tongue and fingers until you are at the edge of what feels like an earth shattering orgasm.

He pulls away just enough to say: “Come for me, gorgeous,” and you do.

You grab his horns with such force you are almost worried you are going to pull them off, but his tongue only moves faster, coaching more pleasure out of your body, until you are gushing around his fingers and the sounds emanating from him are nothing but obscene.

And still he doesn’t stop, licking and sucking until you feel at the edge of another orgasm.

That never happened with anyone before, usually you are one and done, but the way he keeps feasting on your pussy like it’s his last meal is doing something for you, and then, when he gently presses his teeth over your clit, you let out a scream loud enough to be heard three towns over as you come again.

Your eyesight turns white behind your eyelids, and your ears are ringing as your body comes down from the most amazing orgasms of your life.

You open your eyes to find him staring at you with a soft expression, your hands are still holding his horns and he looks besotted with you. You smile down at him, suddenly feeling shy. He only smirks, a self-satisfied smirk that makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy as he gets up and kisses his way to your mouth.

He kisses you softly, but stops you when you reach down to grab his incredibly big and hard cock. “What about you?” You ask, confused.

“This wasn’t about me, but about my incredibly hot gym crush getting what she deserves.” You blush even harder, and he chuckles. “You have to stop being so cute and blushing when I say nice stuff or I’m going to have to fuck you real hard.” His teasing only makes you feel giddy.

You wink at him, kissing his nose before teasing back: “Who says I’d be against that?”

He grunts, groping your tit and pinching your nipple until you groan. “Don’t tempt me. We’ll have time for that.”

“We will?” You ask with the biggest smile possible. It feels like your cheeks are going to hurt if you keep smiling like that.

He smiles back, kissing all over your face, punctuating each word with a kiss: “I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon.”

“Does that mean you are staying the night?” You wonder, hopeful and shy for some reason.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a smirk, straddling your waist as he pulls his shirt over his head.

He lets his body flop down against yours, squeezing you as he lays on top and nuzzles your cheek. You laugh breathlessly as he rolls you until your head is on his pecs (very comfy pecs) and your leg is over his. You both pointedly ignore the big dick tenting his workout pants.

“If I knew a head injury would end in your bed I would have stared at your ass the first day,” he jokes as he kisses your forehead.

“You were doing what?” You ask, looking up at him as he laughs until there’s tears in his eyes.

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pazzi5351 · 1 month ago

Text

Make it to the morning

“The shit I did last night I’m not real proud of, but let’s just make it to the mornin”

Word count: 1.8k

AN: I was listening to this song and was like “holy shit this would be good” I sincerely apologize for what I’m abt to write and what ur abt to read (I AM SO SORRY OH MY GOSH I SWEAR)

Warning: 18+

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The bar was loud, hot, and heavy with bodies, but Paige only had eyes for Azzi.

She leaned in behind her, lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear, breath warm as her hand curled around Azzi’s waist possessively.

“You look too good tonight mami,” Paige murmured. Her voice was low, rough from beer and want.

Azzi smiled, head tilted back just slightly. “You told me that already,” she said, a little breathless.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” Paige’s hand dipped lower, fingers playing just under the hem of Azzi’s crop top. “I jus’— can’t help myself ‘round you.”

They’d been doing this for weeks now—hookups behind closed doors, secret touches at parties, makeouts in the empty locker room. It was supposed to be just fun. Easy. They never talked about it. That was the rule.

Until now.

Because Paige had her hand on Azzi’s waist one second… and the next, she was laughing with some girl. Her old hookup. Brunette. Tight dress. Bold. Shameless. And touching Paige like she had a right to.

Azzi’s heart twisted. She felt it before she even fully saw it—before the girl touched Paige’s chest, before Paige leaned in just a little too close, smiling like she didn’t just have her hand down Azzi’s pants two nights ago.

Fine.

Two can play this game.

Azzi drifted over to the edge of the bar. Her hips swayed a little more than usual as she struck up a conversation with the guy next to her—cute, tall, dimples. He leaned in fast. Then another girl joined, sliding up behind Azzi and laughing into her drink.

Azzi laughed too, hand brushing the girl’s arm. She could feel Paige’s eyes on the back of her head like lasers on her.

A beat later, Paige was there.

She slid in behind Azzi with a sharpness that made the air tighten. Her hand glided around Azzi’s waist, fingers on her like she owned her. Her voice was low, dangerous.

“Who are you talking to?”

Azzi didn’t turn. She just sipped her drink, slow and petty.

“Go talk to your little ex or whatever the fuck,” she said, cold. “Looked like you were having fun.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “The fuck did you just say?”

Azzi turned now, eyes narrowing, fire flickering under the surface.

“You heard me.” She smiled, bitter. “You’re all over me, then suddenly you’re back in slut ‘player P’ mode the second someone gives you an ounce of attention. So yeah—fuck you.”

That did it. Paige’s fingers gripped tighter around Azzi’s waist, her breath coming harder through her nose.

“You wanna talk your shit mama?” she said, bitter.. “Cool. Let’s go.”

She pulled Azzi with her, not even letting her finish her drink.

They slammed into the single-stall bathroom, the door clicking locked behind them. Paige had Azzi against the wall in two seconds flat, one hand gripping her waist, the other wrapped tight around her throat—not choking, just… stilling.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Paige’s voice was low, her eyes blown wide with anger and something darker. “Flirting with two people in front of me? You know you’re fucking mine Az. Don’t fucking play with me.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Her pulse thundered under Paige’s hand. Her body betrayed her—heat blooming between her legs, knees going weak. But her pride held firm.

“You did the same shit,” she hissed. “You make me feel fucking stupid, Paige. Every time I think this could be more than just… this. Whatever the hell this is,” Her voice cracked at the edge. “You make me feel fucking replaceable. Like I’m a goddamn option.”

She shoved Paige off her and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Paige stood there, dazed, chest heaving, guilt washing over her in a wave so strong it nearly knocked her over. She had feelings.

Fuck. She had real feelings.

She chased after Azzi, catching her before she reached the door. Her arms wrapped around Azzi’s waist from behind, holding her still.

“Lemme make it up to you, mama,” she whispered, lips close to Azzi’s ear. “Please. I promise… you won’t regret it.”

Azzi was still breathing hard, but she didn’t pull away.

The Uber ride to Azzi’s dorm was a blur of hands and heat.

Paige couldn’t stop touching her—fingertips dragging over Azzi’s bare thighs through the rips of her jeans, palm gripping the soft curve of her waist, thumb brushing just beneath the waistband of her pants.

Azzi’s breath stuttered every time Paige’s hand got close to her pussy.

Their mouths crashed together like magnets. Paige kissed her like she was trying to win her back with lips alone—deep, wet, hungry. Azzi moaned softly into her mouth, pulling Paige’s hair as Paige slid her tongue past her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Paige breathed between kisses, pressing hot kisses down Azzi’s neck. “The shit I pulled tonight was fucked up. I’m not proud of it.” Her voice dropped as she kissed just above Azzi’s collarbone. “But let me show you. I can get you right.”

Azzi melted under her, nodding, unable to speak.

Back at Azzi’s dorm, clothes came off fast.

Paige had Azzi through the door as soon as it was unlocked.

Paige shoved her back onto the bed, climbed over her like she owned her.

Azzi tried to flip them, voice teasing. “What if I want to ride you tonight?”

Paige just smirked, grabbed both of Azzi’s wrists and pinned them above her head.

“I told you mami,” she said, voice dark with promise, “I’m making it up to you.”

Paige moved down between Azzi’s legs, kissing every inch of her skin, slow and reverent like she was worshipping her. She licked long and slow over Azzi’s pussy, teasing her until Azzi was gasping, squirming under her.

“Paige,” she whined.

“Mhm?” Paige hummed against her, the vibration making Azzi buck her hips.

“You’re… it’s like— you’re trying to make it to morning doing this.”

Paige paused for a beat, grinned, and pressed her mouth back down with more purpose.

“I might just do that,” she said, voice thick with want. “You deserve it, baby.”

And she did.

All night long.

Azzi’s legs trembled against Paige’s shoulders, the sheets beneath her already twisted from how hard she’d been clutching them.

Paige didn’t stop—not when Azzi whimpered, not when she begged. If anything, it just fueled her. Her tongue moved slow and firm, circling Azzi’s clit with relentless precision. Every flick, every moan, every graze of Paige’s nails down Azzi’s thighs felt like she was trying to write her name into Azzi’s body.

Azzi’s fingers curled in Paige’s hair, tugging just enough to make Paige groan into her, and the sound made Azzi’s whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” Azzi gasped, hips grinding against Paige’s mouth. “I’m gonna—”

“I know ma,” Paige murmured, voice vibrating against her. “Give it to me, baby.”

She flattened her tongue and sucked gently around Azzi’s clit while sliding two fingers inside her with practiced ease. Azzi’s eyes rolled back, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm hit—loud, breathless, raw. Paige held her down through it, eyes locked on her face, watching the way Azzi completely unraveled just for her.

And still, she didn’t stop.

Azzi twitched, overstimulated, as Paige’s tongue started its slow circles again.

“P-Paige, wait—”

“I told you,” Paige said, licking her lips as she looked up. “I’m not done.”

She kissed up Azzi’s stomach, licking a stripe between her breasts, before leaning in to kiss her—deep, tongue tasting Azzi’s moans, her own cheeks flushed with heat and dominance.

Azzi was limp under her, but her fingers were already slipping down to Paige’s ass, trying to pull her closer. “Ride my thigh,” she whispered, breath still jagged. “Want you to come too.”

But Paige grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed again, her mouth just barely brushing Azzi’s.

“You’re not giving me anything tonight,” she growled. “You’re taking it. And you’ll like it.”

Azzi shuddered at the authority in her voice. Paige kissed her again, harder, teeth grazing Azzi’s bottom lip before moving back down—kissing across her inner thighs this time, slower, savoring.

“Open ‘em,” Paige said.

Azzi’s legs opened automatically. She was soaked, thighs glistening, still catching her breath from her last orgasm.

Paige smirked and slid three fingers into her this time.

Azzi gasped, head falling back. “F-fuck, Paige.”

“That’s right,” Paige murmured, curling her fingers up into that perfect spot that made Azzi’s mouth fall open without sound. “You’re mine, remember that shit.”

She worked her fingers deeper, thumb back on Azzi’s clit, stroking in rhythm as Azzi came again—legs shaking, voice cracking on Paige’s name.

Then Paige pulled her up, flipping her onto her stomach, gripping her hips and dragging her to the edge of the bed. She leaned over her back, pressing kisses to her spine before biting her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. One for just them to see.

“You feel so fucking good baby,” she said, grinding against her from behind. Her hands roamed everywhere—over Azzi’s ass, her back, up to her wrists that Paige pinned again on her back.

She bent low, licking over Azzi’s inner thigh from behind, then started eating her out again from that angle—slow, messy, filthy.

Azzi could barely keep herself upright.

It was too much. And not enough.

By the time Paige finally let her turn back around, Azzi was flushed and breathless, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glassy with want. Totally fucked out.

Paige hovered over her, kissed her slowly, then slid two fingers into Azzi again while keeping deep eye contact.

“Want you to come in my mouth one more time,” she said softly. “Then I want you to fall asleep knowing you’re mine. Got it?”

Azzi nodded, dazed.

“You gotta say it.”

“I’m yours,” Azzi whispered, completely ruined. “I’m fucking yours.”

Paige went down on her again—this time even slower, deeper, more drawn out. She sucked Azzi’s clit into her mouth, circled her tongue while curling her fingers inside, and didn’t stop until Azzi came again, legs wrapped around Paige’s head, crying out her name with a rawness that echoed through the dorm.

Azzi collapsed backward, panting, trembling.

Paige climbed up next to her, kissed her temple, then her shoulder, then the bruises she’d left along her neck and chest.

“You good, baby?” she asked, voice quieter now, fingers stroking Azzi’s hip.

Azzi just nodded, melted into the sheets. “You trying to kill me?”

Paige smirked. “I told you I was making it up to you.”

They lay there in silence for a moment, Azzi curled into Paige’s side, Paige’s hand stroking slowly over her back.

“You’re mine,” Paige said again, quieter this time.

Azzi didn’t say anything. But her hand slid across Paige’s chest, fingers curling in the front of her hoodie like she was scared she might disappear.

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AN: I’m a slut i sincerely apologize. I’m gonna go touch grass.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi fic #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige and azzi #partynextdoor #smut #dallas wings #uconn wbb #Spotify

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mochatsin · 1 year ago

Text

When MC Gets Pushed Off the Stairs

You can be the kindest person or the biggest brat this exchange program has ever seen, but it won’t erase the fact that you have enemies. Some demons just can’t stand the idea of a human earning the favor of the seven avatars… and there are others that plan on doing something about it.

TW: implied bullying, falling down the stairs, sprained ankle + MC in a cast, violence, demon brothers being a bit more sinister.

I was in the mood for a bunch of dark and spiteful demons. I might make a separate part of them taking care of MC during the times they have a cast.

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“Who do they think they are? They probably feel invincible when they have those brothers stuck to their hip.”

You tried ignoring the rumors and whispers, you knew it wasn’t true so there wasn't any reason for you to bring this up with anyone. Though there were a bunch of demons, specifically these two girls, that are quite irritating. They definitely knew you could hear them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll lower their voices whenever they start talking about you. Seeing your discomfort is what even encourages them to keep talking, and you’re walking down the stairs to your next class so you can avoid them because there’s no way you’re gonna give them that satisfaction of seeing how bothered you are.

“Invincible? As if! They’re just a human.” The other mocks, looking at you with disgust.

“Let’s find out.” Is the last thing you hear before you feel someone’s heel push your back, making you lose your balance and fall over. It was a blur after that, until he came by…

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Lucifer

Students are crowding the stairwell, and Lucifer can feel the annoyance already blooming. A crowd like this usually means trouble, and he wonders if Mammon is trying to place bets in secret again. It won’t be the first time he catches his brother discreetly collecting gambling money after convincing other students to bet on something stupid, so Lucifer isn’t going to be surprised if his initial thought was right as he pushes through to see the commotion.

That’s when Lucifer desperately wished he was right as soon as he saw you on the ground. Two demons on top of the stairs laughed and mocked you, but the moment Lucifer stepped in the scene they immediately shut their mouths out of fear and so did the crowd of students around you. He can piece the scene together and understand what happened, but he needs to hear from you first.

He kneels down to your level to check up on you. You’re not unconscious and that’s great, though you seemed pretty shaken up. Falling down the stairs and having several students stare at you wasn’t pleasant after all. “Come, let’s discuss what happened in the student council room.” Lucifer offers, since the last thing you need is to be the center of attention and he knows it won’t be a good idea to let you stay here longer.

He helps you stand, but you stumble and cling onto him for support. Your foot… it hurts so much that putting pressure on it sent jolts of burning pain that almost made you scream. You’re trying to be strong despite the pain, you can’t show weakness in front of Lucifer who’s relying on you to represent humans. What kind of image are you showing them? That you’re fragile and weak? It’s all getting overwhelming and Lucifer can see you’re already at your limit.

He turns to the two demons on the top of the stairs and glares at them. The temperature drastically dropped, breathing felt so heavy all of a sudden, and there’s this feeling of dread that paralyzed not only the two but also everyone around them. Trying to run away wasn’t an option, the two girls knew it would just make things worse for them.

“I expect to see the both of you in the council room at the end of the day. Or else.” There’s no negotiations, and opening their mouths to protest is already a defiance to Lucifer’s orders. He’s already quite strict on his brothers, what more to a pair of demons that doesn’t seem to understand that there are consequences to their actions? “Everyone, get back to your classes.”

Once everyone has finally left you both alone, Lucifer carries you in his arms. There’s no way he’s letting you limp to the infirmary in this state. He checks your ankle and sighs when he realizes it’s sprained. You thought at first that he’s stressed because you getting hurt meant more work for him, but the worried look on his face shows that it’s not about that.

You’ve been so strong for doing so much here like helping Lucifer manage all of his brothers while still doing your duties as a student, trying to keep up a good impression enough for Diavolo’s exchange program. Now seeing you hurt with a swollen ankle is making Lucifer rethink his views. It’s not pity that’s written on his face, it's… something else entirely.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all… but maybe it’s time that we take care of you, little lamb.” Lucifer says. It’s an understatement to say that you’re dependable because you’re much more than that to him. He wonders how he even managed to get by with his brothers before you came into their lives. You’ve been so reliable, Lucifer almost forgets that you’re also fragile. You’ve done too much, you deserve a break and be pampered. It’s exactly what he does now that you’ve got a cast on your foot.

Lucifer doesn’t like seeing you with those crutches, it doesn’t sit right with him when someone like you is suffering from something as basic as going up the stairs. He starts making a proposal about making RAD more accessible for students by adding elevators or magical levitating platforms. While it’s a good idea on its own, you can tell that they had this plan so that you don’t have to suffer through the stairs anymore. Everyone else immediately agreed to the proposal without second thought.

Lucifer had the two demons apologize to you, and he doesn’t care whether they bruise their skin or get covered in dirt, they will be doing it properly. To beg on their hands and knees, bowing down until their foreheads touch the floor. He won’t let them up until they actually feel genuinely sorry, he doesn’t care how many students will be staring at their pathetic displays. He’s almost tempted to dig his heels into the back of their skulls should they lift their heads for even a single inch from the ground.

He’ll chip away at their pride that led them to hurting you, finding a way to humiliate them in every subtle way until they’re the ones cowering their head. Lucifer would make subtle comments each time their paths would cross, always looking for a single flow that he would call them out for under the pretense of how it’s unbefitting as a student of RAD. It’s so harsh that the brothers almost felt sorry for them. Is it petty? Perhaps it is. But he doesn’t feel guilty at all when they actively chose to hurt you, and maybe he’ll stop once your ankle is all better.

Mammon

You two were together but then he said had somewhere he needed to be. Mammon was supposed to meet up with you before classes, he just needs to talk to some people he owed a few grimm to and possibly ask for another deadline extension. He’s turning to every corner trying to make sure Lucifer won’t spot him counting his debt, though he did notice the crowd that was forming a few meters away.

He didn’t give it much thought at first, but that’s until he heard the whispers of students walking towards the scene. ‘It’s that human exchange that fell’ ‘fell? They were pushed, weren't they?’ And that’s when Mammon starts to sprint, honestly hoping that it was Solomon and not you that they were talking about.

“Outta the way dammit!” Is all you hear, with a few grunts from students getting forcibly shoved to the side before Mammon finally finds you on the floor clutching your ankle. He squats next to you to check the damage, and you can tell from the expression on his face that it doesn’t look good at all.

He looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons snickering at each other before running away from the scene. Mammon recognizes them, he’s heard some of the nasty stuff they’ve said about this exchange program, and especially about you. It just never occurred to him that they’d do something this drastic when given the chance. Mammon was gone for ten minutes and that was enough time to hurt you.

He wanted to run after them, force the two to apologize to you. To make them pay. Though the wince and cries from you are what makes Mammon think with a clear head. You tell him that your ankle is hurting, you can’t move it as much without any pain. So he carries you and makes a run for it to the infirmary. No ambulance compares to how quickly Mammon ran just to get you some help.

Mammon stays by your side, too afraid to leave you for another second after what happened. He stares as they patch up your ankle and you’ll be in crutches until it heals. He’s mad, but definitely not at you. He’s angry that this happened under his watch when he’s supposed to be making sure you’re safe from demons like those. That was a role entrusted to him and he already feels like he failed.

“Ya aint leavin’ my sight, not until that ankle of yours is back in shape aight?” And he meant every word. If he’s not glued to your hip, then you swear you can see a three-eyed crow that’s following you around wherever you go. You just feed it some snacks if you have some when you can, and you wake up with shiny trinkets by your desk the next day.

Mammon is ready to be at your beck and call anytime you need it. You let out a grunt of frustration if you dropped your bag and spilled all your belongings. Your sprained ankle makes it hard for you to bend over to get them, but the moment you turn your head, Mammon is already at your feet grabbing you everything. If it weren’t for the circumstances (like your injury), Belphie would probably exploit this and make his older brother do everything while pretending you asked for it.

The two girls have noticed how much those crows have been following them around. Crows can hold grudges, and they definitely recognize the demons that hurt the human they (and their master) care about.

It started off as something harmless as landing on their desks, squawking at them, or stealing their pens before an important exam. Though when Mammon noticed them occasionally mocking you behind your back for that cast once you came back to RAD, the crows became more aggressive. The birds pulled on their hair, pecked and bit on their skin, clawing at them whenever they could.

Desperate for this madness to stop, the demons are already by Mammon’s feet begging for the crows to leave them alone. Personally, Mammon would’ve done something much worse but there was no way he’s going to abandon you for a second with that cast. “I’m feeling quite generous, so if ya hear me out on my conditions i’ll let you off the hook yeah?”

In exchange for finally getting some peace from those crows, the demons agreed to two conditions. One, never to lay a hand on you ever again unless they want the risk of the birds invading their homes. No more mocking or even looking at you with malice. Two, pay Mammon every month. By the time that you got that cast removed, Mammon has paid off some debt from his classmates and he’s quite proud of it. At least he could take care of you and save some coin at the time. No one said it had to be his money right?

Levi

Levi didn’t spend lunch with any of his brothers or classmates as usual today. He likes spending his free time alone in isolated places like the school garden, empty classrooms, or even the rooftop so he could play his games or watch his anime in peace. Socializing with too many people is overwhelming, this is his own way of recharging to get through the rest of the day.

Though there are rare instances that Levi would ask you to join him in his little hideouts, because you’re one of the people he doesn’t feel too draining to be around. He planned to share some of the snacks he bought for the both of you, but he saw that you were talking with his other brothers at the cafeteria. Feeling dejected, he decided to spend the lunch alone as usual and wait for the class. There’s no way you would want to spend time with someone who’d rather play gacha games on his phone for lunch…

He was hiding by the corners of the stairwell to play his game when he overheard two demons talking so badly about you, followed by hurried footsteps and then a heavy thump at the end of the stairs. Then he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and it’s when he realized that you were pushed off the stairs. He saw your body on the floor, trying to recover from the fall and he felt like his world was crashing in on him. He’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do without making things worse.

You turned around and found him hiding behind the stairwell, eyes locked for a moment that felt like an eternity to the demon. That’s when Levi realized he can’t just stand there idly when his player two is injured. Despite the anxiety, he ran to your side anyway to check on you. His face went so pale when he saw you clenching your ankle, the pain evident in your expression. “I-i’ve got you just… dammit what do i d-do…?!” He mumbles the last part, because he knows this isn’t a game where it takes one button to heal you back. No saved file to help him now.

Levi looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons glaring at the both of you. Out of all the brothers, they would never take Levi seriously. To them, he’s just some demon who dedicated his life to a world of fiction and seeing him fumble right now just proves it. They say that Levi just lacks any real skill to even help you before they left.

He hates to admit that those two are right, and that makes him loathe himself even more. Levi almost went down on a spiral, but that’s until he felt a phone get placed on his hand. He turns to meet your gaze, you handed him his D.D.D. and he knew what you were asking him to do. Levi quickly dials for his brothers and help came to you after a minute of doing so. He’s thankful for their quick responses, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if a crowd started forming around you both.

Everyone of them was huddled outside the infirmary while you were getting patched up, and Levi explained what he witnessed. Though he starts going into his self-destructive speech patterns at how he could hardly do anything to help you by himself that he needed to get his brothers to do it for him. He felt so useless to you, but Lucifer interjects. “It’s natural to panic. But if you did not call for us, then they would’ve been in pain for much longer.”

That helped Levi feel a little bit grounded hearing reassurances from his brothers. Lucifer then tasked Levi to be the one in charge of taking care of you during school days. Since Levi also takes his classes online, then he can watch over you while you’re resting in the house. You both can take online classes together while you recover from your injury.

Levi spends most of the time in your room instead because there’s no way he’s making you go up those stairs to his room, and he doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt or slipping if you try to get in his bathtub. As clumsy as he could be, Levi did his best to take care of you. He did want to spend some time alone with you, but he wished it didn’t take a sprained ankle to get what he wanted.

“I-if only this healing item exists, it would’ve been really handy right now…” He says as you both play a two-player game, the demon staring longingly at the recovery potions on the screen and wishing it could take away your pain right now. Levi often wonders… maybe if he didn’t sulk from the jealousy, if he actually asked you that day to go spend lunch with him, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this.

Levi was watching some anime while you slept, and he saw the bullies on the anime picking on the innocent main protagonist. The scene just reminds him of what happened to you, and that brings him this sense of rage and justice. It was unfair what those two girls did to you, and Levi doesn’t think it’s right that he does nothing about this (assuming that his brothers haven't gotten to them first).

The girls found all their accounts hacked. From Devilgram to their bank accounts. Their emails and passwords were changed overnight so they couldn’t figure out how to get it back, and if by some miracle they recovered their accounts, everything was already wiped clean by then. Levi may not be the most confrontational brother, but he’s the best behind the screen. He’s chugging his third energy drink as he thinks of new ways to plant a virus in their D.D.D.’s when he goes to school at the end of the week to hand over both of your homeworks.

When Levi overheard the girls still talking about you during break, they found all their stuff completely drenched and ruined by the time they came back to their seats even though the classroom remained dry. Gadgets were water damaged, and schoolwork that they were supposed to be submitting later is already long gone. Even their lockers were stuffed with sand and sea water, spilling all over their uniforms as soon as they opened it. The teachers scolded them for the mess they ‘created’ no matter the protests that they never did, but who would believe them if they said it was Levi’s doing? The girls never uttered your name again.

Satan

The teacher assigned you both as partners for a class project due next week, and Satan suggested that it’s best to get a head start on it while your schedules are free. You babysit all of his brothers every day, so Satan expects that your days are going to be quite busy if any of them knew you had a bit of free time to spare. At least his plans are something productive, he gets to spend time with you while also finishing some homework together.

It’s ten minutes past the agreed time you both were supposed to meet. Satan is outside the school library, tapping his foot on the floor as he messaged you but receiving no response. He knows he could’ve gone ahead to do some research to pass the time, but the point of this study date was to do the project together. It’s never like you to be late without any notice, so he sets out to look for you.

Satan is walking swiftly, wondering if you were still at the cafeteria. He dials your number to try to call you during his search, and he stops in his tracks when finds your phone on the ground, the screen cracked. It brought alarms in his head and he picked it up to figure out where you must’ve dropped it. It wasn’t hard because he soon spotted the crowd of demons by the stairway nearby. He could immediately guess what happened as he ran to the crowd, and he’s shocked when finally sees that you were the source of commotion.

He doesn’t care how many students he shoved just to get to your side. Seeing you on the ground in pain already warrants an emergency. Satan guessed your phone flew out of your hand when you fell. “What happened to you?! Where does it hurt?!” Satan asks, pulling you close in his arms and checking what’s causing you pain. He sees your ankle swelling slightly, and he’s trying to deduce what he can do to help after reading all of those human health care books just for you.

Though the laughter he’s hearing from the distance is annoying and distracting. Satan glances up and spots the two girls fleeing the scene, looking so proud of themselves. When he realizes what happened to you, his anger is already bubbling through the surface that it’s almost hard to contain. The pained expression on your face doesn’t help, the only reason he hasn’t fully transformed into his demon form is that he doesn’t want to draw more attention or hurt you more than you already are.

The way these students crowded around you like vultures to a feast is making Satan frustrated at each and everyone of them. How could they just stand there and watch while you were in pain? And those two girls, he will make sure to burn their faces into his memory for later. You could practically feel the heat of his wrath radiating from your pact and it’s making your body hurt more. Satan realized that his temper right now could be causing you more pain, so he focuses his thoughts into getting you some help instead of the anger that wants to burn everything and everyone around you.

“Calm down… just calm down…” he mutters over and over while he gently scoops you into his arms, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. Satan is careful when carrying you so he can take you to the infirmary, and all the students parted like the red sea when Satan shot glares at them, quickly scattering like rats while the two of you disappeared into the infirmary.

His eyebrows are furrowed the entire time as he waits for you to get patched up. His brothers have already arrived after they heard what happened, though they could sense that the fourth born is already on edge like a ticking time bomb. He’s quiet not because there’s nothing to say, but because he’s trying to hatch a plan. Something like this shouldnt go unpunished…

Satan is glad for his position in the student council because it meant that he could access some files from RAD. What does he do best? Studying and gathering as much information as he could. He looks for any detention notices until he finds the names and faces of the two girls that hurt you. A smile spreads across his face, though it was nothing pleasant. Like he just found his new prey.

He just needs to wait for that detention day, patience is the key to success. So for now he’ll focus on taking care of you. Satan pays more attention to you, always attentive to your needs. He brings you notes from any classes that you’ve missed during your recovery, and you heard from one of the brothers that they’re all trying to rack up money for a better phone since yours broke. you do admit that you feel bad for all the extra work he puts up for your sake, especially since Satan even had to do most of the project that you both were originally supposed to do together in the first place if it weren’t for the incident.

“You’re speaking nonsense. I don’t mind putting in more effort just for you, all you need to do is to recover. I’ll consider that as my thanks.” Satan would bring you books in bed or make you some coffee topped with some latte art just so you wouldn’t feel so bored. You can’t go to cafes or libraries with him like you both used to, so Satan will do everything with you in the comforts of your room.

Satan counted the days until it was time. He assigns another brother to watch over you. Asmo pretends not to hear the sound of the main door closing in the middle of the night, distracting you with something pretty he recently bought. The next school day rolls around and everyone is lucky you’re still in bed rest when the news broke out. Two students were found unconscious on the stairs in an awful state. Normally, falling down a flight of stairs doesn’t do much damage to a demon as much as it can to humans. And yet the bones in their legs were absolutely shattered…

None of the brothers were honestly too bothered to tell you the events that transpired, mostly because they knew the culprit. Satan would rather that you focus your energy on recovering. The only news that Satan told you was that you both got a perfect mark on the project you both worked on in the comforts of your room, but he doesn’t bring up what happened to those two demons. You only found out when Solomon accidentally told you during his visits.

Asmo

There’s only a few minutes left before the next bell would ring, so Asmo makes sure to retouch his makeup in the school’s bathroom just as he usually does. He dedicates twenty minutes of his daily time making sure that he looks absolutely perfect, so he could bless the eyes of those who pass by to bear witness of his beauty. At least, that’s what he always tells you whenever he leaves.

Just a bit of blush here and there to match his eye shadow, and Asmo has this proud smile on his face when he’s sure that he looks absolutely spotless. He wanted to bring you along to his little pre-class make up routines, and maybe next time he’ll hear that sweet ‘yes’ from you when he asks. Just thinking about you is making him giddy, so Asmo packed up his pouch and tried to look for you.

It didn’t take him long because as soon as he opened the bathroom door, he spotted a few students by the stairs. Asmo finds it unusual because what could be so important that he’s not the center of attention? Regardless, he’s intrigued enough to investigate the source and he’s horrified to see you down the stairs, clutching your ankle.

If it wasn’t you, then it was Asmo’s shriek that probably drew more attention to the scene. He’s quickly running to your side and checks if you hit your pretty little face anywhere. “Darling, that must’ve been a nasty fall! I would hate it if you got any bruises anywhere on that perfect skin of yours.” Asmo whines as he helps you sit up to give you more support, wrapping an arm around your waist.

When he did so, he heard a scoff and finally turned his attention to the top of the stairs where the two girls looked at you with disgust. He recognizes one of them from his fanclubs, a girl that often tried to get his attention. The facial expressions and body language says all he needs to know, he’s seen this look before. Someone like you being held by Asmo is a major offense to her eyes. The two demons storm off before Asmo could say anything.

Asmo pursed his lips together in frustration before he turned to all the students crowding around you. For once, he hated this attention you’re getting and he sees how much you’re getting shaken by this. “Scram.” Asmo said with enchanted glowing eyes, watching as they all obeyed his command. He then turns to you and wraps your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. “Come on, let’s get that treated or Lucifer will kill me!” Asmo says to try lighten the mood, though it doesn’t hide the bloodlust in his eyes.

He doesn’t like sweating when he just retouched his makeup, but he can’t even bring himself to think about that now whenever he hears the pained whimpers from you everytime you struggle to take a step. The brother’s eventually arrive to find Asmo outside the Infirmary, scrolling through his phone. Looking closely, he’s actually stalking the profile of the demon he saw earlier and there’s a sinister smile on his face whenever he learns something new about his target. The smile was enough to creep Levi out.

Asmo is always checking up on you when you’re at home recovering, trying to cheer you up whenever he has the chance. It’s gotten to the point he lessened his time clubbing or going to malls just so he could stay with you. “When you’re out of that cast, there will be a special bath full of rose petals with your name written all over it.” Asmo does his best to pamper you whenever he can, knowing how hard it must be to have that cast. It’s truly awful when these sorts of things have to happen to you when you both just bought some matching shoes together! He decides not to wear it yet until your foot gets better.

While you were gone, Asmo did what does best. Gossip. He started giving that other demon attention like she always wanted, whispering and suggesting things in her ear. About how that other demon, her friend, was saying disgusting things behind her back and Asmo is only telling her this to ‘look out’ for her sake. He relishes in her angered expression, knowing he now has her wrapped around his finger like a puppet and all he needed to do was sit back to watch the show.

Each day he found himself feeling excited to go to school just to see how those two would hurt each other this time. It started as something petty with his fan constantly bumping into what she used to consider as a friend, feigning ignorance whenever she’s confronted. Of course, she retaliated back until their silent arguments full of passive-aggressiveness turned into something more violent and hostile. It started from mean notes to death threats until they can’t even stand being in the same room without trying to claw out each other’s eyes. All because of Asmo’s pretty words.

There are times teachers are called to intervene because two girls began fighting in the hallways, screaming profanities while pulling at the other’s hair or horns. Whenever the drama dies down, Asmo would go back to add more fuel to the fire just to watch them burn. He tells his dedicated fan more lies just to enable that rage, spreading a rumor or two around the campus to make it sound reliable. He loves having that charm that captivates and charms, especially someone as gullible as this demon who’d listen to anything he says.

News was no longer about your recent incident, it was now about how the two demons fought so badly that they fell over the stair railings from the top floor all the way down. Given the severity of the injuries they’ve given each other from the week alone, they had no choice but to be suspended until the student council decides what to do with them.

Of course, the brothers knew Asmo pulled the strings, seeing that smile on his face whenever the two girls would try to tear each other apart made it so obvious. Not only was it easy and entertaining, but it kept his nails clean too. It’s not like he broke a rule right? They both did this to themselves. “I can’t wait to tell my darling what happened~!” Asmo hums excitedly on his way home to you.

Beel

Lunch time is definitely Beel’s favorite part of the day (and the lunch lady's worst nightmare). He’s golfing down as much food as he could since he’s been so hungry from his last class which was Magical Potions. Whenever his hunger starts to act up, it’s already a struggle not to eat the ingredients to alleviate it, knowing his teacher would scold him just like last time when he chowed down the entire jar of shadow salamander tails.

He’s lucky whenever you both are paired up together, since you bring him some candies to alleviate his hunger enough for him to focus again. You were his lifesaver. Just the thought of you makes Beel wonder where you were. He went ahead today because you said you needed to see Satan to discuss a project, and you were taking quite a while. He’s had food saved up for you and it’s getting harder for Beel not to eat your share, plus it’s always better when you both eat together.

The last straw was when he saw Satan in the cafeteria and when he asked the blonde where you were, the fourth born said he couldn’t find you. Beel grabs a few snacks to keep his stomach going when he searches for you. Normally it’s hard to convince Beel to leave the cafeteria during lunch break, but you’re that important for him to abandon the heaping food on his table. He was trained as an angel to be ready for any sort of disaster, and his gut is telling him that something is definitely wrong. He only confirmed it when he was walking down the stairs and saw everything.

Two girls were laughing and mocking the human he’s grown to love and care for, and when he found you on the bottom of the stairs after a fall, Beel was seeing red. He doesn’t hesitate to slam his fist against the wall and demand silence, because there was no way he was going to let them insult you any further. The two demons saw him and stiffened, quickly running away from the scene to avoid getting caught. The girls knew that Beel would crack their skulls open like he did to that wall if he got his hands on them.

Beel normally would’ve gone after them, but seeing how you’re struggling to get up on your own is what changed his mind and ran to you instead. He doesn’t even get to run all the way, at some point Beel jumps down the last flight of stairs just to reach you quicker. “Tell me if it hurts…” Beel whispers as he tries to help you up. You winced from the pain, and he decided to effortlessly carry you all the way to the infirmary because he would never make you limp this entire trip and deal with the ache. He’s a big demon, and lots of people find him terrifying when aggravated. And yet he’s so gentle when it comes to you.

Being a fangol player, Beel knows what it’s like to hurt yourself. He’s had Lucifer and Mammon help him back to the house after one intense match against the opposing team. The difference is that he could heal a bit more quickly compared to your fragile human body. What normally takes days for his body to regenerate could last months for you. He’s being careful when he carries you to the infirmary, holding you close like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held and he might be right at this point when he watches the nurses patch you up.

Beel is pacing so much outside the infirmary that his twin had to calm him down before he would drill a hole in the middle of the halls, his head is thinking about all of the what-ifs. Luckily you weren’t critical, save for the sprained ankle, but there’s this guilt on his face when he looks through the window and sees your cast. Maybe he should’ve been with you when you went looking for Satan so that he would have protected you, but what’s done is done now. So he focuses on taking care of you and reminding you that you could always rely on him for help.

He brings you some of your favorite treats whenever he comes home from RAD so you both could eat together. At some point, he heard from Solomon that milk is the key for humans to have stronger bones. You tried not to laugh when Beel got a galon just for you, innocently thinking that it would’ve helped you out with your injury if you drank all of it.

Beel is too nice for a demon, he might be the kindest of the seven brothers. But there’s been this tension around the orange haired demon whenever he’s sharing a class with the two girls that pushed you down those stairs. There's this hardly contained rage and blood lust, so a lot of students avoided mentioning what happened to you around him unless they want to get caught in the crossfire.

Beel finds it frustrating whenever he feels that he can't do anything about this rage. Watching you limp around in crutches around the house while those girls were striding down the halls without a care, it wasn't fair. It’s taking all his willpower not to just throw them out of the window for what they did to you. He broke several pens whenever he's too angry during class that Satan had to lend him some of his own. He feels this loss of appetite now that you’re not around to share food with him, and whenever he would remember the incident he would bend the metal of his fork, shaping it effortlessly like it’s clay. It’s a matter of concern for the brothers now.

Belphie took his twin out to the gym so Beel could let his frustrations through workouts. He may have destroyed two punching bags, but it was enough to bring down that anger to a safer level now. And during all that, Beel finally confided in his twin. About how he saw those girls mock you, and this innate urge to just see them suffer but it’s impossible to do that without destroying everything in his path. He would get in a lot of trouble, and he knows that would upset you instead.

“It’s just unfair, you know that they didn’t deserve that…” Just because he was nice doesn’t mean he wasn’t vengeful, but he’s at a loss of what he could do that wouldn’t result in another property damage bill sitting on Lucifer’s desk. Belphie can just sense how his Beel is itching for a bit of revenge, and who is he to deny what his twin wants?

For Magical Potions, Beel had to partner up with Satan and Belphie since you’ll be absent for the time being. They had the perfect plan, all Satan needed was a good sleight of hand to drop something in their cauldron when he walks by. Given that these two love pulling pranks on Lucifer specifically, they took a page out of their book of schemes for new targets.

Maybe his brothers forgot to consider that these two demons do not have the same kind of strength or resistance that the eldest had… or they both did this on purpose. Adding hellfire frog legs into the girl’s cauldron during Magical Potions class was actually more explosive than they expected, resulting in awful burns on their skin and hair. Beel’s priority is to take care of you everyday so he didn’t have much time to relish in this side of his that wants to wreak havoc, but he admits that seeing your bullies in pain like this is actually fun. It’s almost as satisfying as those ten stack pancakes he had two days ago… ah great, now he’s getting hungry again.

Beel is coming home to you with a box of your favorite treats. You wanted to try those new batch of sweets from Madame Scream but the brothers kept you in bed rest due to your ankle, so Beel went out of the trouble to get them for you. It took a lot of willpower not to eat a single one on the way back which deserves praise. You’ve been feeding him so many snacks during class to help him focus, this is his way of returning the favor to you.

He doesn’t bring up what happened during potions class with the girls that pushed you, and he honestly didn’t feel the need to do so since they weren’t important as you are to him. He’s too busy trying to feed you some yummy snacks to even think about that. You only hear about what happened through his twin who was grinning from ear to ear when he recalls the boils and burnt hair. “Well, it’s their fault for not checking their cauldron. They’re not smart and careful like you.”

Belphie

Belphie found a perfect spot to sleep around RAD where he’s sure Lucifer won’t spot him yet. It’s hidden in the school gardens, a nice secluded area with a small bench surrounded by bushes that would surely keep him out of sight. He’s been slowly putting pillows and blankets he’s brought so that it becomes a little slumber haven for him, and Belphie feels that he’s ready to show you his secret spot. He’d never tell his brothers because he wants to have at least a few minutes alone with you every weekday.

The problem with that plan is that Belphie can’t even find you. He’s already at the verge of passing out from the exhaustion of trying to keep himself awake in his search for you. Lunch in school is normally his nap time allowance, but he really did want to show you this secret hide out so that you both could enjoy it together.

He runs into his twin who was also looking for you, so it’s better they just stuck together right? Belphie had plans to show Beel anyways once this was done with. They passed by a corner to go upstairs in case you were already in the classroom, and that’s when they both saw you at the bottom of the stairs where those two girls were laughing at you.��

Belphie didn’t know what came over him, but his body could hardly move when he saw you like that. It’s bringing him a lot of bad memories of choices he came to regret until this day, remembering the things he did to you when he threw your body down the stairs. He wanted to forget that, but seeing this whole situation is making that memory repeat in his head. Like the guilt is creeping back to him, and he froze in place not knowing what to do other than to relive the moment.

Beel grabbed Belphie by the wrist to snap him out of the trance, reminding the youngest that you need some help. The twins came by your side, hoisting your arms over their shoulders to help you in the infirmary. The two girls were already long gone while Belphie was in a frozen state, and Beel would’ve gone after them if not for his twin and you because his family always comes first.

The one thing that’s comforting Belphie right now is the fact that you’re still alive and breathing, though it can only do so much. He doesn’t like seeing you in pain like this, so he offers a spell so you could sleep through it while the nurse from the infirmary patches you up. He’s quiet the entire time when he watches you rest, Beel tries to talk to his twin about it but he refuses to let his problems known. It’s not like it was hard to guess, Beel can tell what’s bothering his twin but doesn’t mention it.

Belphie has been taking naps by your side whenever possible, sleeping in your room and making sure to give you sweet dreams each time you start falling asleep. Though he himself couldn’t sleep. Each time he tries to get some shut eye with you, he ends up reliving that day when they found you at the bottom of the stairs. The way those girls mocked you was unforgivable, and he hates how it’s hitting too close to home. Whenever he wakes up, he checks on your pulse while you’re asleep and sighs in relief every time he feels your heart beat. Like it’s the only thing that can calm him down.

By the time he woke up from his third nightmare, Belphie had enough. If he wants to feel at peace again, then he needs to get rid of the source of the problem. It wasn’t fair that you’re suffering like this, he hates seeing the empty seat next to him in class knowing that you’re supposed to be there instead of staying at home with that cast. Lucifer told him that they��ll be dealing with the matters soon, but Belphie had no intention of listening to them in the first place.

Belphie has been gradually giving the two girls nightmares, and each night they progressively get worse. From using their phobias against them to waking up from a gorefest nightmare in the middle of the night. It costs them sleep, and Belphie thinks it’s the perfect piece of karma whenever he sees the bags under their eyes getting darker each day. Hair and clothes started to look more haphazard when there’s barely any energy to keep themselves up.

Whenever Belphie shares a class with them, he pulls a little bit of magic to make them fall asleep during class until they get into a lot of trouble. He loves doing this when there are important tests and activities so they’d miss it and fail. No amount of coffee helps keep them awake during the day while the nightmares plague their sleep. The constant fatigue and the lack of sleep is starting to get to them, and Belphie has been observing everything. Movements were more sluggish and alertness has gone below the baseline. Just exactly what Belphie was waiting for.

It’s a simple plan that leads to the least amount of struggling and effort needed, because all it took was one shove for them to tumble out of the railings and down several flights of stairs. When they’ve finally stopped rolling against the stairs, they hear Belphie’s heavy footsteps as he walks down to their level until he’s stepping on one of them with the heel of his foot. He’d compare them to bugs, but that would be insulting to all insects.

“You know, I had a lot of plans with them that day… I don’t like it when people, even my brothers, decide to ruin them.” His love for you and spoiled attitude is what’s fueling his anger right now, so he had no qualms with pushing them down the next flight of stairs with his foot. And whenever they think it’s over, he goes down and does this again. Like kicking a pebble he’s found on the ground… all the way down to the first floor.

There’s this satisfied look on his face as soon as he sees the two girls on the floor already at the brink of unconsciousness. He feels so much lighter now, and all he can think of is how he wants to go home to take a nap with you. He doesn’t even walk over to the side, he just steps over the two girls on his way out.

Belphie comes home with the usual drowsy expression, but you can tell he’s in a much better mood now. He lays down next to you in bed, already hugging you close to his chest while making sure he’s not hurting your ankle. “I think I can get more sleep now…” he says with a confident smile on his lips, lulling you to slumber with him. After that incident, it’s the first in a while that Belphie finally has his usual 10 hour nap.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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norrisjpg · 4 days ago

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── ☆ golf buggies & club cocktails

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series my kind of woman, LN⁴

content: swearing, the monaco grand prix, max being mean, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, charles & alexandra being icons!!

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: this bitch was thirty-one pages long on google docs, absolutely crazy behaviour from myself here. and because it's so long, it's not proof-read so sorry for any typos. i hope you enjoy!!

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED to say the least, lily hadn’t expected to hear from lando for a couple months at least – between travel and sponsor dinners, his schedule didn’t exactly leave time for spontaneous invitations, especially to his best friend’s younger sister.

but, the notification arrived on friday evening, just as she was curled up in her flat watching reruns of would i lie to you? and trying to forget the awkward voicemail harry had left her earlier.

lando sent a voice note.

voicenote [0.28] “hellooo, i’m driving so this is easier for me to do rather than message you – sorry if you hate voice notes. [pause] uh, anyway, are you still coming here for that movie premiere? ‘cause i’m just saying, if you need somewhere to stay, you can stay with me if you want. [indicator clicking] what the fuck is this guy doing– anyway, sorry, yeah the hotels here are so expensive, so you may as well stay with me, if you want, no pressure. [pause] yeah, that’s all, let me know, bye lala.”

she smiled down at her phone, the warmth blooming quickly in her chest.

lily sent a voice note.

voicenote [0.36] “um…hi. i don’t usually do voice notes, i hate the sound of my own voice [laughs]. but yeah, thankyou for the offer, i’d– [pause] i’d like that, yeah, thankyou, lando. i get in at nine on tuesday morning, and the premiere is on wednesday evening, so [pause] yeah, i haven’t booked a flight back yet, but i’ll probably leave on thursday morning or something. [pause] okay, yeah, i’ll get an uber booked for tuesday, so if you could send me your address that would be helpful. thankyou, bye lan.”

her voice softly echoed around his mclaren, and he smiled, almost taking his concentration off of the road for a moment.

lando sent a voice note.

voicenote [0.37] “ah, well i feel privileged then, la. don’t worry about booking an uber, i’ll come and pick you up from the airport. and it’s monaco this weekend, so if you’re not busy [pause] would you maybe like to come for the weekend? you can come in the garage and stuff, plus you know cam and jon and everyone now, so yeah. [pause] i mean, i’m not really giving you an option, unless you hate the idea of it. oh and then you can fly back with me on tuesday, we’re going back to the factory for a few days, so don’t worry about booking a flight back [pause] let me know.”

his voice, relaxed, boyish, and slightly muffled like he was speaking into his hoodie sleeve. it filled the space like warmth curling around her ribs.

lily sent a voice note.

voicenote [0.14] “oh, yeah, okay that sounds good. thankyou, lando. i obviously would never turn down coming to a race weekend, but yeah, if you’re willing to put up with me for that long, i’d really like that, so thankyou, again – cool, bye.”

lando sent a message. oh and pack some golfing appropriate clothes :)

• • • •

TUESDAY arrived quickly, and with it, a blinding mediterranean sun that lit up monaco like a dream. lily stepped off of the plane, dark sunglasses perched on her head, blue & white linen draped around her hips, paired with a navy tank top. nice always made her feel like she was in some sort of perfume ad, soft clouds cutting across the sky, and water that looked photoshopped. lando was waiting just outside of arrivals, sunglasses over his eyes, with a less-than-discreet quadrant cap pulled low over his forehead.

“you came.” the mclaren driver smiled as he hugged the girl.

“you asked me to,” lily replied softly. “plus, i never turn down free accommodation.”

“you didn’t reply for an hour, thought you’d ghosted me.” he laughed, and took her bag without asking, effortlessly sliding it into the boot, before opening the passenger side door.

“ever heard of airplane mode?” she laughed, slipping into the car and clipping her seatbelt on. “thankyou.”

he rolled his eyes with a gentle chuckle, flicking the door shut and heading to the driver’s seat.

they made the drive back to monaco with the windows cracked open, music drifting between the two of them. lando didn’t talk much – not because he was tired or didn’t want to, he just didn’t need to fill the silence. instead, he looked over at her occasionally with a half-smile, like he was still a little in awe that she was actually there.

his apartment hadn’t changed. it was still warm-toned, a little messy in a charming way. shoes in a pile by the front door, a random golf club next to the coat rack, as if it had been forgotten mid-practice swing. it was him, cedarwood and lemon, soft around the edges. sunlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the cozy accents of the apartment.

“you’re in here,” lando said, opening his bedroom door. “clean sheets, the whole lot.”

“where are you sleeping?” she asked as lando lifted her suitcase onto the bed.

“couch.”

“lando–”

“i’m not arguing with you about this,” he shook his head. “you’ll lose.”

lily rolled her eyes, but smiled. “okay, but i don’t like this.”

“you’ll live, won’t you?” he quipped.

• • • •

BY EARLY AFTERNOON, they were pulling into a quiet, palm-lined golf course just outside of the principality. carlos and rebecca were waiting at the club’s edge, both in stylish sunglasses and crisp clothes. carlos waved dramatically the moment he spotted them.

“buenas mañanas!” carlos called, “finally, the recluse is here.”

lando rolled his eyes, “i’ve literally been outside for like twelve hours this week, shut up.”

rebecca laughed, stepping in to hug lily, her arms cool from the breeze and her perfume like white flowers and sunscreen. “so nice to finally meet you,” she said warmly. “i’ve been waiting for lando to introduce us.”

“same here,” lily replied, surprised at how natural it already felt. “you look like you belong in a magazine, by the way.”

carlos scoffed, “tell her again, she spent twenty minutes looking for the shoes.”

“i’m committed to the cause.” the taller girl shrugged.

“respect.” the british girl replied with a grin.

they teed off just after two, the sun blazing down over the monaco cliffs, heat radiating off the green in shimmering waves. lando and carlos jumped into the front of the buggy, arguing about who got to drive, while lily and rebecca quietly slipped into the back. carlos ended up winning said argument, and accelerated quite quickly toward the first hole.

“does she know?” carlos asked casually, swinging the club next to him mindlessly as they walked away from the cart.

“does who know what?”

the williams driver raised an eyebrow, “lily, that you’re head-over-heels.”

lando nearly dropped the club in his hand. “what–no, i’m not–”

“she’s sleeping in your bed, mate.” carlos said, amused. “you picked her up from the airport, you’re practically writing her poetry–”

“you’re reading too much into it.” the brit shook his head, trying not to smile. “and poetry, seriously?”

carlos just smiled knowingly. “you keep telling yourself that, i’ll just ignore the way you looked at her when she fixed her hair in the buggy mirror.”

lando said nothing, because honestly, he had nothing to say. he had noticed. she’d tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and he’d caught himself staring for a little longer than was friendly, and a lot longer than was smart.

“she’s max’s sister.” he muttered, hitting the ball a little harder than necessary.

carlos hummed, ��if it keeps you warm at night.”

by the third hole, rebecca and lily had opted to walk the stretch between shots, after lando had hit his ball into a pond by accident.

“lando wouldn’t shut up about you after miami, you know?” rebecca said out of the blue.

lily blinked, “what?”

“he was being all casual about it, but every other word was ‘lily thinks’ or something to do with you.” the scottish girl grinned. “and that boy doesn’t usually talk that much about anything.”

the younger girl looked down at her flats, a flush she was so desperately trying to fight rising to her cheeks.

“he’s comfortable around you,” she said more gently. “that’s rare with the drivers, they may as well live in a pressure cooker.”

lily smiled, “he’s easy to be around, i guess.”

“yeah, especially when he’s pretending not to stare.”

when the seventh hole came around, lando had finally convinced lily to tee up. but, he didn’t get to see it, as his ball flew off near the trees, so he had to go and find it.

“relax your grip, lils.” carlos said, “you’re overcorrecting.”

“since when are you a coach?”

“since lando slices his shot every time you smile at him.”

lily turned, stunned into laughter, but carlos just grinned, “you didn’t hear it from me, though.”

the sun had dipped lower by the time carlos had won at the final hole, casting gold across the hills. everyone had loosened up – laughter was easy, and the teasing was relentless. lando had finally stopped trying to hide how he was looking at lily, from carlos at least.

“you’ve got it bad.” rebecca said, nudging lando’s shoulder.

lando didn’t argue this time. he just looked at lily, walking ahead with carlos – laughter floating on the breeze – and nodded once.

“whatever you say.”

• • • •

AFTER DINNER, back at the apartment, the streets of monaco had quieted into something soft and still – the kind of quiet only a coastal city could offer. the streets below glimmered with the last of the marina lights, and the only sounds inside were the low hum of the fridge and the creak of lando’s floorboards as they both moved around.

lily had changed into one of her oversized shirts – one of max’s old karting sponsor t-shirts she’d stolen a few years ago – and padded into the kitchen, quietly due to the material of the fluffy socks on her feet. lando was stood there, boiling the kettle, barefoot and hoodie-clad, curls slightly damp from the quick shower he’d had.

the driver looked up when she appeared, eyebrows raised. “tea?”

“please,” she nodded, walking closer. “peppermint, if you have it.”

“what do you take me for?” lando replied, mock-offended. “of course i’ve got it.”

she laughed and leant against the counter beside him, the stretch of space between them warm but unspoken. the kind of closeness that felt domestic, familiar. not unusual, but newly charged.

their fingers brushed together when he handed her the mug a minute or so later, and she smiled, “thanks.”

“always,” he nodded, the two of them falling in-step toward the couch. “movie?”

the pair plopped down on the couch, lily stretching her legs out, and lando letting her rest her feet on his lap. without speaking, he pulled the blanket over her lower body, and switched the tv on. it smelled like washing powder and sea salt, warm and inviting.

“looking forward to your premiere tomorrow night?” the mclaren driver asked, pressing play on some cheesy rom-com.

“i guess.” she shrugged, “actually, i wanted to ask you, do you want to come as my plus-one? platonically, of course, no pressure.”

“awh, afraid you’ll miss me too much?”

“yep, that’s the number one reason.” she retorted, voice laced with sarcasm.

“then of course i’ll go with you.” he shot back with a soft laugh. “it’s black tie, right? what colour is your dress?”

“navy, it’s like my go-to colour.”

lando smiled, naturally resting his hand on her ankle, rubbing small circles across the skin – soft, thoughtless, familiar.

she didn’t say a word.

she just smiled and nodded – while her brain seemed to melt.

• • • •

THE RED CARPET was filled with flashes and shouting, and the theatre steps under lily’s heels glittered like a mirrorball. monaco never did subtle, especially not on nights like this – the air shimmered with perfume, heat, and the weight of too many egos trying not to look impressed.

lily held her chin high, a soft smile fixed on her face as lando fell into step beside her. his hand hovered gently at her lower back, not touching, but enough to feel the static electricity radiating off of his palm. she glanced at him, and he smiled – boyish and slightly nervous, as if this sort of thing wasn’t second nature to him by now.

“you okay?” he murmured under his breath.

“peachy,” she breathed. “you?”

“terrified,” lando smiled for the cameras. “i’m not used to being the plus-one, but it’s nice to not be asked questions.”

“well, you make a very pretty accessory, mr. norris.” she teased, glancing upward at him as the cameras captured the moment.

he looked at her then, properly – slow and deliberate, eyes dragging across her face, her earrings, the sweep of her collarbone – and sighed.

“you look–” the driver paused, lips parting slightly. “you look gorgeous, lala.”

she laughed in an attempt to prevent the heat rising up to her neck. “thankyou, but you’re just saying that because i let you pick the playlist in the car.”

the brit was about to reply, but photographers started calling their names. they posed briefly for media photos and the camera – lando standing just a little too close, lily’s smile softening whenever he leant in to speak to her. journalists yelled, but they didn’t stop long enough for a full interview. they slipped inside together, through the lobby and into the hush of the velvet-curtain theatre, where the music from the foyer faded into a quiet that felt like relief.

their seats were front-row-adjacent, tucked into a plush middle row surrounded by industry people lily half-recognised from magazines. she scanned the programme as they sat.

“so, what’s the plot?” lando leaned in closer, speaking quietly.

“something about a long-lost daughter reconnecting with her mother, a bit emotional.”

he blinked, “and you invited me to this?”

“you like crying.” she deadpanned.

he nudged her foot with his own, shaking his head. “hey, only when i die in tarkov.”

the movie began, and lily expected lando to fidget, whisper snide little comments and complain halfway through, but he was strangely stuff. he only really shifted once, when she tried to pull the large slit on her dress closed, and he draped his suit jacket over her legs without a word. their arms pressed against each other in the midst of the film, skin warm where they touched, and even in the flicker of the screenlight, she could feel his gaze drift to her sometimes.

by the time the credits rolled, her throat was a little thick. she blinked quickly, brushing under her eyes as the lights came up.

lando glanced over, “you cried.”

she shook her head, “so did you.”

“did not.”

“you’re sniffling?” lily laughed softly.

“shut up,” he rolled his eyes with a smile. “come on, let’s go be fake celebrities at the afterparty.”

he grabbed her hand and gently pulled her along behind him, while she was laughing at him.

“you are a celebrity?”

• • • •

THE ROOFTOP AFTER-PARTY shimmered with the kind of effortless opulence monaco seemed to do best – glass railings framed by fairy lights, flickering candle-lit tables tucked between oversized potted plants, and a panoramic view of the marina where yachts glowed like floating constellations. the music was soft but rhythmic – a quite bassline pulsing under the clinking of glasses and easy laughter of film producers, models and industry stars.

lily stood near the edge, one hand curled around a coupe glass, the other resting lightly on the railing as she took it all in. the dress she wore – a floor-length slip of navy silk – caught the warm light with every movement, clinging just enough to hint at the silhouette beneath. the halter neckline left her shoulders practically bare, a low, open back dipped to just above her waist. her hair was pinned loosely, strands falling in soft waves around her face, and small sapphire earrings glinted against her skin.

lando, beside her, donned a sharp, black suit tailored to perfection – the kind that moved with him, soft-shouldered and just a little undone in a way that felt intentional. his tie matched her dress perfectly, almost down to the colour-swatch – a deep, navy silk, he’d had delivered to his apartment when he’d seen the colour of her dress after her arrival.

he’d looked at her differently the moment she’d stepped out of his bedroom, adjusting the clasp of her necklace. nothing was said at first – he just stared, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other tightened around the doorframe, like he needed something to keep himself upright.

“you–” he’d started, then blinked, and laughed once under his breath. “yeah. okay. wow.”

she’d smiled, brushing the invisible lint off of the silk. “thankyou, i think.”

now, hours later, he hadn’t drifted more than two feet from her since they arrived in his car. always within reach. always with a hand wrapped loosely around a drink he didn’t have any interest in actually drinking. she introduced him with casual pride, and he let his gaze linger when he thought she wasn’t looking, and innocently adjusted her necklace once when the clasp shifted – his fingers brushing the nape of her neck, warm and careful.

“you alright?” he asked softly, leaning toward her as another tray of champagne floated past.

“i’m all good.” lily nodded, glancing at him briefly. “you?”

“trying to not look like a bodyguard,” he shrugged. “thankyou for inviting me, too.”

“thankyou for coming. i don’t know what i’d have done on my own.”

the words were about to come out of his mouth, but then it happened.

“lils?”

her smile faltered before she turned, lando saw it. her posture shifted, a little more reserved and precise than previous.

he walked toward them, navy shirt unbuttoned just a little too far, hair styled to look like he hadn’t tried (but absolutely had), and with the easy swagger of someone used to being in the centre of the room.

“harry, hi.” lily met him with a half-polite hug.

“you look–” he paused, letting his eyes sweep over her in a way she didn’t appreciate. “incredible.”

“thanks. um– this is lando,” she said quickly, stepping back slightly toward the driver. “lando, this is harry.”

lando extended a hand, short and clean. “nice to meet you.”

harry shook it like he’d been asked to participate in a game he didn’t want to play. “didn’t know you were into the whole formula 1 thing, lils.”

“oh, yeah, i am.” she replied, breezy but pointed. “but i’m into good company too.”

his grin thinned slightly, “right.”

he turned away a few moments later, drifting toward the bar like a man who’d realised he was playing second fiddle all of a sudden.

“that’s the guy max is always moaning about?” lando shifted his stance, speaking a little less softly than before.

“yeah.” lily, for some reason, felt the need to avoid his gaze, so she did.

he didn’t say anything else, he didn’t need to. because, lily felt the shift. like a nozzle had turned ever-so-slightly, turning his temperature just a little colder. the quiet withdrawal, the shortness in his tone, the way his smile looked a tiny bit more forced. but he didn’t move away, didn’t act cold, but he was just less present. as if he’d realised that maybe he shouldn’t be acting the way he was, when she had another man in her life. it didn’t matter, she was max’s sister, he shouldn’t be behaving in that manner anyway.

but, he stayed polite. attentive, even. but the teasing stopped, the closeness they’d been circling all evening retreated, not massively, but just enough to feel like something was missing.

lily noticed.

and, for the first time in a long time, she found herself wishing that harry had never shown up.

• • • •

THURSDAY MORNING brought around a normality that lily could definitely get used to. there was just something about the monaco paddock that made the air feel charged – like it buzzed just beneath the skin. the narrow pathways, the glittering harbour at its edge, the low hum of media crews and team radios echoing against polished motorhomes – it was all tightly wound, glamorous chaos. lily had never seen anything like it, even after miami.

the mclaren garage was a different kind of buzz though – cooler in tone, louder in sound. compressed air hissed from wheel guns, laptops blinked with data streams, and mechanics moved like they were conducting some invisible orchestra. it smelled faintly of tyre rubber and motor oil, sharp and sterile but somehow comforting too.

lando walked beside her, already in his media gear – papaya polo and black shorts, lanyard dangling around his neck, along with the double-ringed necklace he always seemed to wear. his curls were still damp, from the ridiculously quick shower he’d taken before they’d left the apartment together. there was this energy to him – maybe it was kinetic, she wasn’t sure – but he was sharper than usual, as if he was mentally in the car already.

“you really don’t have to give me a tour, lan.” lily told him as they entered the hospitality. “you gave me one in miami.”

“but you haven’t had the monaco edition.” lando replied with a grin, adjusting the pass around his neck. “monaco always hits different.”

he walked past the engineers’ station – desks lined with monitors, headphones slung over chair backs, screens flickering with telemetry data. he explained everything again, half because he loved the sport, half because he clearly liked having her there.

“lando, media pen in two minutes!” a ginger-haired girl called, beckoning lando over to her.

“go, i’ll survive.” lily nodded, ushering him away and earning a thankful smile from the girl.

he nodded, gently squeezing her waist as he slipped past. she watched as he walked off toward the pen – a little stiff in the shoulders, a little quieter in his steps than usual.

she turned her gaze back to the garage – only to find a familiar figure watching her with a mild curiosity from a few feet away – who then pushed himself off of the wall and stepped toward her.

“lily, right?” the australian asked, holding out his hand. “i’m oscar.”

“i know,” she laughed, shaking it. “not in a weird way, lando’s mentioned you.”

“could say the same.” oscar nodded. “that’s either good or bad, that he’s mentioned me.”

“all good, he likes you.”

he smiled, rare – soft and genuine. “that’s nice to hear, and again, i could say the same.”

they chatted easily – about the weather, monaco’s unique energy, and about how exhausting media day actually was. oscar had a dry, understated sense of humour that kept her laughing for longer than she’d expected.

in all honesty, oscar hadn’t expected to like her so quickly. he and lando were almost complete opposites, but there was something disarmingly warm about lily fewtrell. she wasn’t loud or overly confident – the way some people in the paddock pretended to be – she had this calm kind of presence that settled in naturally, like she belonged without ever trying to. she asked questions, but soft ones, ones that didn’t feel pressure-filled or forced. she listened more than she spoke too, but when she did speak, there was a subtle sharpness behind her humour that made him laugh for longer than he’d intended to.

and the way she said lando talked about him – with that easy smile, like it was obvious lando respected him – made oscar quietly soften, letting his guard down. the driver had expected her to be gorgeous, she was max’s sister, and lando had hovered around her name for a couple weeks now – but really? he’d expected an empty model with no real knowledge of the sport.

he hadn’t expected honesty, or the quiet charm, or how she seemed to beam when oscar brought up his teammate.

“oi,” lando called with a grin. “what are you two conspiring about?”

“your dramatic relationship with… everything.” oscar teased, waving at the papaya driver.

he rolled his eyes, “please don’t scare her off.”

“too late for that.” lily quipped with a laugh.

later in the evening, the paddock transformed into something golden – soft with twilight, the light catching on camera lenses and sunglass frames, everything washed in a golden-blue haze. the pair walked beside each other, lando still clad in papaya and complaining about how uncomfortable the press conference sofa was. her trainers were quiet on the painted walkways, padding along beside him as he casually greeted people – nodding to a mechanic there, fist-bumping a junior driver there.

“there you are,” charles called, waving as they spotted the pair rounding the corner toward them. “thought you were hiding from us.”

“we were.” lando grinned, shaking charles’ hand.

the woman stood behind charles looked like she’d stepped off the pages of vogue itself – effortlessly elegant in a blush-pink tweed co-ord that felt both vintage chanel and distinctly modern at the same time. the cropped jacket hugged her waist, just above the matching mini-skirt that hit mid-thigh and showcased her with unapologetic confidence. even in a paddock full of stylists, models and celebrities – she drew attention, easy and unbothered in the way she carried herself, because she belonged there.

so, when she hugged lily with that warm, familiar smile, she did it like they’d been friends for years, and from the outside it’d have easy to assume just that.

“i’m alexandra, lovely to meet you,” alexandra smiled, her voice warm and light with an accent that softened all her vowels. “i’ve heard so much about you.”

“i’ve heard that a lot today,” lily laughed softly. “nice to meet you too.”

“i’m stealing her,” the french woman added, looping her arm through lily’s. “go away, boys.”

“wait, where are we going?”

“to get coffee,” she replied cheerfully. “and i’ll give you the girlfriend tour.”

“oh, we’re not–”

“–bye, you two!”

alexandra had picked up on it immediately. she could see it in the way lando leaned in slightly whenever lily spoke. the way he always seemed aware of where she was standing, what expression she was making, if she was too warm, too quiet, too crowded. she’d never seen that look on him before, but it wasn’t one a man wore casually.

charles noticed too. lando, who could be jittery and a little anxious during race weekends, looked anchored. grounded, even. not overly affectionate, not overcompensating, not distracting himself. just calm. attentive in a way charles had never seen before, like someone quiet in him had softly awoken for the time being.

“at least she’ll get to know what she’s dealing with.” charles shrugged as the two girls disappeared together.

lando muttered something under his breath, but the monegasque just grinned. “i like her,” the ferrari driver said quietly. “she’s good for you.”

“i know,” the other driver sighed, pursing his lips. “but she’s max’s sister, so… yeah.”

“and?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “you’re allowed to like someone who’s good for you, you know? no matter who they are.”

lando didn’t reply, just gave charles a look.

but he didn’t disagree either.

• • • •

THE SCENT of grilled chicken and caesar sauce filled lando’s monaco apartment, rich with garlic, olive oil, and lemon. lily stood in the sleek kitchen, socks on her feet and humming under her breath as she chopped crisp romaine lettuce and tossed it into a bowl beside the halved cherry tomatoes and freshly-shaved parmesan. the girl moved with ease, sleeves rolled-up, hair pinned back into a loose bun as she layered the wraps she’d insisted on making lando.

“you’re telling me that you just whip this up?” lando leaned against the kitchen island, clad in a matching hoodie and joggers, looking mildly scandalised as he watched her work. “like, casually?”

“i cook for myself all the time, lando.” lily replied, amused. “i don’t live off of uber eats, like some people i know.”

“hey, that’s slander.” he held up his hands.

she smirked, “yes, but is it wrong?”

lando paused, looking down at his feet. “no.”

she placed the wrap on a plate and slid it over to lando, before sitting on the barstool at the kitchen island, nursing a glass of water. he took a bite – a big one – and his eyes widened mid-chew.

“oh my god,” he practically moaned, muffled. “you’re joking.”

lily blinked with a laugh. “in a good way?”

“the best way,” he said, finished the bite and already reaching for more. “you have to send me the recipe for this, please.”

“secret.” she said, smugly.

“i’m marrying you.”

she laughed, trying to hide the fact that she was blushing slightly. “bit forward, norris.”

he chuckled, but didn’t double down. “seriously, you could open a restaurant.”

“or just keep cooking for you?”

“i wouldn’t complain.” he looked at her then – really looked. and for a moment, something she didn’t want to read flickered in his eyes. but, he just smiled.

they ate in comfortable silence for a while, both perched at the island with the quiet hum of monaco nightlife filtering in through the open balcony doors. the city sounded softer from above – car engines humming in the distance, the faint call of seagulls, a burst of laughter from somewhere down below.

the pair were interrupted though, by the rhythmic buzzing of lily’s phone on the side, and her smile slipped a little the second she saw the name on her screen.

max.

lando, sensing and witnessing her change in demeanour. “you okay?”

“yeah, it’s just max.” she nodded, pursing her lips. “be back in a minute.”

he gave her a subtle nod, then turned back to the kitchen, pretending to be interested in loading the dishwasher as she slipped away – and the door to his bedroom clicked shut behind her.

“hey,” she said, softly.

“you’re all over getty.” max didn’t waste time, apparently.

lily frowned, almost laughing at his bluntness. “hi max, nice to speak to you too, how are you?”

“i’m serious, lily. what the fuck were you doing at the premiere with lando?”

“i invited him.” she replied casually. “i’m staying with him, and i thought he might like to go.”

“you’re what– you know what, nevermind.” her older brother mumbled. “do you know what people are saying?”

“why do you care so much, max?” lily’s stomach turned a little. “you’re the one who brought me to surrey to see him, you’re the one who brought me to miami with you – you don’t expect us to only hang out when you’re around, do you?”

“you’re my sister.” max snapped. “and he’s my best friend. there’s boundaries, lils. and it’s not like lando is ready to settle down like you are–”

“do you not trust me or something?” lily’s voice came quietly, almost hurt. “lando and i are just friends.”

on the other side of the door, lando had paused mid-step to the laundry room, now frozen in the hallway. he hadn’t meant to listen, but lily’s gentle voice carried through the thin walls, and glimpses of max’s more frustrated tone seeped through into the background too.

“that’s not what this is about, lily.”

“isn’t it? i don’t understand what your issue with this is.”

“just–” he sighed. “just be careful with him, okay? he’s not like… harry, which is probably a good thing– but just… go careful, alright?”

“i’m not a child, max.”

“i know, but you seem to act like one sometimes.”

lily ended the call without saying goodbye.

she sat on the edge of his bed for a minute, staring at the carpet. her chest felt tight, like every word she so badly wanted to scream at him had tangled up in her throat and left her heart aching.

outside, lando moved back into the kitchen, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. a few moments later, she emerged, composed but quiet, her eyes avoiding him.

“everything okay?” he asked gently, shutting the dishwasher.

lily nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, just… brother things.”

he didn’t push, just hummed and started moving toward the fridge.

“dessert?”

that made her laugh, even if only a little. “all you have in your fridge is three-day-old pizza and protein shakes.”

“i’ll find something.”

“if you bring me out an old easter egg–”

he was already halfway to the pantry.

• • • •

FRIDAY MORNING came with the thrum of excitement and lots of anticipation. lily woke early to the smell of coffee and the far-off buzz of drones circling the coastline. the streets of monaco were already alive below the balcony – winding roads closed off, marshals in fluorescent orange guiding teams and fans into position, and the soft, intermittent roar of engines as pit lanes systems checks began.

she stretched in lando’s bed, the morning sun pouring through the half-closed curtains, and felt a weird mixture of nerves and peace. the kind of quiet waiting that came with feeling completely out of place and entirely at home all at once.

by the time she padded into the kitchen, the apartment was already quietly humming with movement. lando had one airpod in, pacing lightly between sips of coffee and gulping down the protein shake on the countertop, wearing his mclaren team shirt and loose jeans, but no shoes – hair still damp from the shower.

“morning,” he spoke, glancing up and immediately softening when he saw her. “sleep alright?”

“like a baby,” she yawned, leaning on the counter beside him. “you?”

“pretty good, actually.” he shrugged. “breakfast?”

“i can cook some, if you want.” lily smiled.

“you do and i’ll fall in love.”

he said it so casually that it made her heart skip, though she couldn’t tell if he noticed – probably not.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” she teased.

the paddock felt different on practice day. louder, tighter. the air buzzed with heat and pressure, reporters already prowling for quotes and engineers frowning at data tablets like their lives depended on it. lily stayed close to the mclaren garage, tucked out of the way but still within view. lando had essentially told her to hang out wherever she liked, but she didn’t want to be a distraction. she was content with people-watching, sipping her to-go coffee, and soaking up the atmosphere.

jon found her first – she didn’t look out of place anymore, so she was a little more difficult to spot – if anything, she looked like she belonged. confident in her quiet way, comfortable on the soft edges of chaos. he stopped beside her with an easy nod, the same unhurried presence she remembered from miami.

“thought i’d see you around here,” she smiled.

jon smiled back, pleased to see the girl. “i didn’t scare you off last time, then.”

“hardly.” she replied, shaking her head.

“lando’s been a lot less… unbearable since you arrived.”

she laughed, a little surprised. “i’ll take that as a compliment, i think.”

“it was meant as one.” he paused, glancing into the garage to see lando deep in conversation with his race engineer. “he’s good when you’re here, less anxious.”

“really?” lily blinked, caught off-guard.

“yeah,” the performance coach said simply. “he’s not an easy person to read, but the difference is obvious.”

her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter.

“i don’t think i do much,” she admitted.

“you do more than you realise,” jon replied, nodding honestly.

she looked down at her coffee cup, unsure of what to reply to that with. no one had ever said something like that to her before – not in a way that felt so steady or sure.

he didn’t press – just nodded and added, “whatever’s going on between you two, it’s good for him.”

she glanced at lando again, who was still listening to his engineer intently, brow furrowed in concentration. but, then he glanced back at her – just briefly – but long enough for his expression to soften.

“i think he’s good for me, too.”

after the chaos of practices and media had settled, the sun had dipped low over the monaco skyline, turning the air golden as shadows stretched long across the paddock. the end of the second free practice session brought a slower rhythm to the once-frantic corridors, crew members wheeling equipment back into trucks, admin staff tapping restlessly at their phones, and a few remaining drivers giving rushed interviews before disappearing into the team motorhomes.

lily walked beside lando, her badge swinging gently at her chest, a navy mclaren hoodie draped loosely around her shoulders – his, oversized and soft. he’d tossed it to her earlier when the breeze had picked up and made a quiet joke about her team loyalty. it hadn’t left her body since.

“hey, lovebirds!”

lando groaned quietly before he turned. “why do i regret this already?”

alexandra was arm-in-arm with charles, who looked way to happy for a man who’d been losing his mind over brake issues all afternoon. they caught up quickly, alexandra slipping in beside lily, charles slinging an arm over lando’s shoulders.

“we were just talking about you two.” he said, squeezing the driver’s shoulder.

“oh no,” lily said, mock-horror blooming across her face. “should i be worried?”

“deeply.” alexandra quipped, sliding her arm through lily’s.

“alex thought you lived here.” charles chimed in.

“not quite.” the british girl laughed.

the french girl tilted her head, smiling. “but you could, couldn’t you?”

there was something light in her voice, curious too – a gentle nudge. lando didn’t say anything, just turned a pretty pink colour and averted his gaze.

“you’re adjusting to the paddock well,” charles pointed out. “mclaren hoodie, i see? it looks a lot like lando’s.”

“she was cold.” lando, who had up until that point looked like he was begging the ground to swallow him whole, finally looked up.

“sure,” alexandra said sweetly. “that’s why it’s been doused in your aftershave.”

lando glanced at the fewtrell girl, and something flickered behind his eyes – a little too intent, a little too sharp. then he cleared his throat and looked at charles.

“are we done here, or do you have more embarrassing things to say to me?”

“not even close,” the monegasque laughed. “but we’re going out for dinner, if you want to join?”

“we have dinner plans, sorry.” the mclaren driver thinned his lips into a line, shrugging – to which lily furrowed her eyebrows, as this was also news to her.

alexandra gently took lily’s phone out of her hand and pressed the top of her phone to lily’s, the other’s contact and number drifting onto their screens.

“there’s my number, text me.” she said, handing the device back to her.

charles and alexandra disappeared down the street, presumably toward the ferrari driver’s home – and lando reached for his car keys.

“they like you.” he said quietly as they approached the jeep they’d travelled to the track in.

“well, i am wearing your brand.” she laughed, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over her hands.

lando looked at her for a beat longer than he needed to – than he should of. “you wear it well.”

• • • •

QUALIFYING DAY had the mclaren garage humming with tension by the time lando and lily arrived. she walked a step behind him, her paddock pass swinging gently at her chest, sunglasses tucked into the side of her bag. lando glanced back every now and then, like he was checking she was still there – as if they day would go sideways if she wasn’t.

the air was electric – tight with humming anticipation that lived in the sharp corners of formula 1 weekends. engineers muttered over headsets, mechanics moved like clockwork, cameramen trailed journalists like shadows, and the smell of oil and rubber lingered beneath the faint whiff of suncream from the grandstands above.

lily knew better than to hover too close during these moments. so, she hung back near the hospitality, while lando peeled away to change into his papaya race-suit. the british girl sipped a smoothie someone from the kitchen had pressed into her hands, watching as lando didn’t seem to talk much, not even to jon. just nodding, listening, eyes slightly glassy the way they always got when he was thinking too far ahead.

“bit early for the serious face.” she teased when he walked past again.

lando stopped mid-stride and almost laughed. “i can’t help it, it’s monaco.” he shrugged, a soft smile that touched all the corners of his mouth gracing his lips. “does something to me.”

lily tilted her head, “like what?”

“turns my stomach inside out,” he mumbled, then added quieter. “but i like it, i guess.”

before she could reply, a nostalgic, familiar voice called out from behind them. “there’s my boy!”

she turned just as adam norris strode into view, his grin wide and unforgettable. cisca wauman followed close behind, sunglasses perches atop her head and a tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“oh my, lily!” cisca smiled, hugging the girl before her own son.

“cisca!” the girl laughed, embracing the older woman in a hug that came easily. “i didn’t know you two were coming!”

“flight got delayed,” adam added, kissing her cheek briefly. “you’re taller than i remember.”

“you say that every time.” the driver rolled his eyes, hugging both parents briefly.

lily’s heart did an odd little flutter at the familiarity of it all. she’d grown up in the same social circles, at the same junior karting weekends, family barbeques – she was the girl who used to steal lando’s kinder bars during post-race debriefs, and chased max around with a garden hose in their teens.

adam turned to his son, “you didn’t tell us that lily was coming.”

lando shrugged, “it was sort of last minute.”

“so where are you staying, lily? our hotels might be close together.” cisca asked, looping her arm through the younger girl’s.

“oh, lando’s letting me stay with him.”

adam raised an eyebrow. “we don’t even get that treatment.”

lando’s face went a little pink, but luckily, his mother whisked lily away, demanding all of her life updates since the last time they’d seen each other. “come on, i want to hear everything.”

behind them, adam clapped a hand onto lando’s shoulders. “she’s a good one, you know?”

the driver found himself reddening again. “i know.”

back in the garage, everything had shifted into a tighter rhythm as qualifying loomed closer. lily sat beside cisca, watching the team buzz around lando’s car like bees in a hive, everyone moving to a beat only they could hear. lando passed by one last time, helmet tucked under his arm, before getting in the car. he paused by the two women, as if it was muscle memory.

“wish me luck?” he asked, gaze flitting between the two of them.

“you’ll do amazing, sweetheart.” cisca reassured him, nodding her head.

“you don’t need it.” lily shook her head, tilting it up to look at him.

“still want it, though.”

she smiled, gentle and grounding. “go be brilliant.”

and for a second – just a second – his whole face softened, like he believed her more than he believed anyone else.

as he disappeared into the garage, cisca nudged lily gently. “you know,” she began, gesturing toward her son. “i haven’t seen him like this in forever.”

“like what?”

“he seems settled,” she said simply. “with himself, not with the car or anything.”

lily wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, so she smiled shyly. her stomach turned over, slow and heavy. because, the thing was – she didn’t know what any of this was. but, lando made her feel steady in a world that spun way too fast. and, maybe that meant something.

or maybe it would later.

she would have thought about it more, if the final few seconds of Q3 weren’t ticking down to zero so soon. qualifying had flickered down to a blur of engine notes and blinking timing screens. lily stood shoulder-to-shoulder with cisca, eyes glued to the television screen inside the mclaren garage. lando had gone green, green, yellow – not his best lap, but it looked well put-together.

the last corner. the line.

the time flashed up.

1:09.954

the noise was instant – a rush of celebration and disbelief colliding as team personnel leapt to their feet. mechanics hugging, engineers high-fiving. zak was already out of his chair, jon’s face cracked wide into a grin. and lando – through the screen – was surprisingly nonchalant about it all, thanking the team.

cisca clapped, “he did it!”

lily blinked at the screen, heart racing.

sub-seventy seconds.

no one had ever done that.

in monaco, of all places.

she couldn’t stop smiling as she followed the norris parents into parc fermé. lando had already jumped out of the car and launched into his team, hugging them with happiness. his fireproofs were half-unzipped, his curly hair damp with sweat, face flushed and beaming.

he spotted lily just as she reached the edge of the swarm.

and she could have sworn – just for a second – the crowd faded around him.

“come here,” he grinned wide, holding out a hand.

she hesitated, only for a moment, before stepping into him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her a little off the ground in a brief, adrenaline-high, giddy squeeze.

“you were unreal,” she said into his shoulder.

“i’m convinced you’re a good luck charm,” he said, pulling back. “you’re not allowed to leave, ever.”

she laughed and softly rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, a mclaren media girl appeared beside them – “sorry! lando, quick photo with the trophy?”

lando nodded, still catching his breath, and reached for the tyre-shaped pole position trophy with one hand – the engraved cylinder gleaming under the sun – before gesturing for lily to stay put.

“you’re in it,” he said simply, tugging her a little closer.

“wait–what?”

“count yourself lucky,” he said, glancing down at her briefly. “i hardly let anyone in the mclaren photos with me.”

she laughed, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “i’m honoured.”

so there they stood, side-by-side in the middle of the chaos. lily could feel the weight of eyes around her – the lens clicking, the buzz of the paddock still rippling with his record-breaking lap.

and just before the shutter went off, lando turned. his nose brushed her temple briefly, before his lips pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek – “for the cameras,” he mumbled against her skin.

she couldn’t feel her legs for a moment.

lily barely had time to process the gesture before the photographer snapped the photo. a quick flutter of camera clicks, the sound sharp above the murmur of the garage.

she turned to lando, brows raised and smile tugging at her lips.

“PR is going to hate me.” lando grinned, all boyish mischief and adrenaline.

the media team thanked them and wandered off, while the driver’s engineer called him back over to look at the run plan for tomorrow’s race. he squeezed lily’s hand quickly, before disappearing – palm still warm from the gloves, fingers rough from years of wear and tear.

she didn’t even try and pretend like her stomach hadn’t just turned itself inside out, twice.

• • • •

LATER IN THE EVENING, the energy had finally begun to simmer down. they left the track just before sundown, slipping out the side entrance after his tedious debriefs. monaco glowed golden under the fading sun, the whole place shimmering with a kind of magic that only came at this time of day.

in the passenger seat of his black mclaren artura, lily sat with the window cracked, the warm breeze brushing past her hair as they wound back through the narrow streets. lando had the radio low – just enough to fill the silence with something soft and base-heavy.

“you seemed quieter than normal,” she spoke up, not looking at him. “when you were talking to zak.”

he sighed, “i think i scared myself today.”

“how so?” she glanced over.

“i’ve dreamed about getting pole in monaco since i was a kid. and now i’ve done it, but never thought i’d break a record doing it – and now i’m sort of like shit, i need to back it up tomorrow.”

“you will.” lily replied immediately.

he looked at her – brief and fleeting – something unreadable in his eyes. “you always sound so sure.”

“i am sure.”

and maybe it was her certainty that made him soften, feel better about his worries, just a little. as if he could lean into it. just for a moment.

back at the apartment, everything felt a little unreal.

the award sat casually on the kitchen island like it was a vase or a fruit bowl, the number – 1:09.954 – engraved along the surface in small, elegant print. lily ran her fingers over it while lando changed in the bedroom, trailing the pads of her fingers along the cool material.

“keep touching it and you’ll have to polish it,” came his voice from the hallway.

she looked up. he’d changed into a soft grey t-shirt and navy sweats, his curls still damp and a little unruly. he looked younger like this – softer than the podium pictures and behind-the-scenes snaps ever seemed to show.

“you should put it with the rest of your trophies and stuff,” she said, nodding at the pole position tyre.

“i’m putting it in the bathroom.” he deadpanned.

she laughed, short and loud. “next to your mouthwash?”

“yeah, real humbling for guests – especially oscar.”

they ended up on the sofa, sharing a packet of lando’s final protein bites, some mindless rerun of love island playing on the television. he sat with one foot tucked underneath him, head tipped slightly toward her, more comfortable than he ever seemed to be in front of cameras or crowds. his energy was different here – not dialled down, but warmer, looser.

at one point, he shuffled a little closer, letting his arm slip behind her shoulders on the couch, letting his hand curl around her upper arm and trace little circles into the skin with his thumb.

she looked up at him, speaking softly – “you good?”

he didn’t answer straight away. just looked at her for a moment too long, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. or maybe what he was feeling.

then, so quietly she almost missed it, he said, “thanks for today.”

lily nudged his knee with her own. “you’re the one who broke the track record, you should thank yourself.”

“i know,” he smiled, internally proud. “but thankyou for being there, i felt calmer than usual.”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

so, she just leaned her head into his shoulder – gently, tentatively, as if she was afraid he’d pull away – and closed her eyes briefly. he didn’t say anything, just rested his head on hers, cheek pressed against her soft brunette roots. just looked down at her hand resting beside his, and laced their pinkies together without thinking.

it meant nothing.

it meant everything.

and yet, neither of them said a word.

• • • •

MONACO on race day was different.

the air was heavier, more expectant. the streets buzzed as if they were holding their breath, and from the second they left the apartment, lily could feel it in lando’s silence – not tense, but focused. tunnel-visioned. like his world had narrowed to seventy-eight laps and nothing else.

they arrived at the paddock just after nine. the sun was already high in the sky and the air was thick with anticipation – teams bustling, mechanics sprinting between trailers, journalists scrambling for interviews. the scent of espresso mixed with burnt rubber and high-octane fuel lingered, a potent perfume that only race day could offer.

lily stood inside of the upstairs hospitality, accompanied by cisca and adam once again, hands tucked lightly into the pockets of the mclaren jacket lando had lended her for the morning – claiming he’d win if she was in papaya. her eyes were glued to the pitlane, watching lando scamper off down the track in the sleek black and orange vehicle, as the hum of radio chatter crackled softly in her ears, punctuated by the thundering roar of engines schooling through the narrow streets below. it was loud, chaotic, yet somehow intimate – like stepping into a world where every heartbeat counted.

the moments stretched. the countdown began.

five lights on, five lights out.

she thought she had started going into cardiac arrest when lando locked up into turn one, but he managed to save it and her heartbeat settled somewhat – not really, but she thought that if she told herself that, maybe it would.

lap after lap, he started to edge out a gap. his pace was untouchable, pushing the car to its limits with the grace of a ballet dancer and the ferocity of a future world champion. her breath caught when he clocked in fastest lap after fastest lap, dominating monaco’s winding streets like he was born to race them.

and then, the moment that everyone waited for – some celebrity waving the chequered flag.

lando norris had won the monaco grand prix.

to say the garage exploded would have been an understatement. cheers shrieked, engineers clapped each other on the back, and zak & andrea rushed down to parc ferme, the norris family in tow, lily hurrying along beside adam.

his helmet was off now, hair damp and a little squat from the balaclava, smile breaking free like the sun behind clouds. his exhaustion seemed to melt away when he saw his team, and with a few rushed steps, he was at the barriers, jumping into his crew.

jon was the one who shoved her to the forefront, letting her stand with her hands curled around the railing for dear life. he spotted her a couple seconds later, and within the blink of an eye, he’d pulled her into a tight, sweaty hug.

“i did it, lala!” he grinned, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“told you so.” lily laughed softly, fingers tracing the sweat on the back of his neck.

flushed and triumphant, lando turned and leant in – pressing a soft, genuine kiss to lily’s cheek, nose brushing her temple.

“for real this time,” he whispered – no teasing, no fanfare, for real.

the team gathered, ushering him off to the cooldown room, and he whispered something inaudible in her ear, breath fanning her neck before he pulled away, squeezing her hand and rushing off.

lily’s heart fluttered in her chest, and just grinned, feeling like she belonged – right here, right now, with him – but boy, max was going to kill her, and maybe lando too this time.

the anthem played above them, the hum of ‘god save our king’ echoing out through the french streets. monaco’s harbour glimmered under the late-afternoon sun, champagne bottles waited patiently to be sprayed over the cheering crowd – and lando stood in the centre of it all, victor of the most glamorous race in formula 1, if not, the world.

the british girl craned her neck from below the stage, tucked between jon and will, her eyes never leaving him. she was sure she had caverns in her cheeks from smiling.

and then, he looked down – right at her.

and winked.

smooth and teasing, subtle enough that it could mean nothing, but obvious enough that the media would eat it up. nevertheless, it send a jolt through her chest that made her feel sixteen again, and her stomach flipped as she tried to play it cool, softly rolling her eyes and smiling at him. it should mean nothing, but it definitely meant everything.

one of monaco’s rooftop lounges hosted the afterparty. the terrace overlooked the glowing curve of the coastline, and the entire paddock scene had shown up to celebrate lando’s glorious win. music pulsed through the velvet night, champagne flowed like water, and the principality around them sparkled like it had stepped out of a dream he’d not quite finished with.

lando leaned against the balcony railing, dressed down in a simple white shirt and black slacks, sipping on a red bull while everyone else laughed with cocktails in hand. his face was a little flushed, partly post-race-win glow – though the adrenaline had finally started to settle – but partially from the hazy heat of the night.

lily was by the bar getting a drink, stood in a black satin slip dress, the mclaren lanyard from earlier stuffed into her clutch, hair tousled from the sea breeze.

“no champagne?” lily stepped up beside him, the sea breeze catching her fly-aways.

he smiled sideways. “not drinking this season,” he shrugged. “gotta focus on racing.”

she looked down at her own glass – of lemonade – and tapped it gently against the side of his can. “i figured, didn’t want you to be the only sober one.”

lando’s eyes softened instantly. “you didn’t have to–”

“–i wanted to, though.” she interrupted simply.

the music faded beneath them, drowned out by the sound of the waves far below and the soft thrum of their own silence. for a moment, lily swore the whole world narrowed to just this balcony, just this view, just him – just them.

lando thought to himself – maybe still high on that winning feeling – that this could be what winning really felt like.

but they just kept getting interrupted – every few minutes, someone came over, a driver, brand rep, team member with a drink in one hand and a congratulations on their lips.

he smiled. said thanks. took photos.

but, he didn’t let go of her, not once.

not in an obvious way – he wasn’t clingy, never possessive – but every time someone new approached, he’d glance sideways briefly to check she hadn’t slipped away. his fingers occasionally brushed her arm, lower back, wrist – like gravity.

after a while – and after lily had muttered something about being cold – they made their way into the booths just inside of the club. the music was louder, thumped a little deeper in their ears. lily leaned against the wall, and lando stood beside her, definitely closer than he needed to be.

“home?” he asked, leaning closer to her.

“yeah, home.”

• • • •

THE MORNING brought about a soft quietness that only muted light could offer.

for a moment, she lay still, cocooned in the aftermath of yesterday’s glory – the champagne, the cheers, the warmth of lando’s lips on her cheek, his hand on her waist as they snuck out of the party thrown for him.

her phone buzzed faintly on the bedside table, so she reached for it, blinking at the screen in the dim visibility of the room.

you have 5 missed calls from max.

her stomach dipped.

lily padded out of the bedroom, clad in some loose navy shorts and a matching tank top. the apartment was still and warm with the morning haze – the sliding glass doors open, the sea breeze drifting in, and lando was already seated at the breakfast bar, sipping apple juice in grey sweats and a black t-shirt.

“good morning,” he smiled, eyes crinkling.

“morning,” she echoed, voice a little scratchy.

her phone buzzed. again, rhythmic and annoying.

“everything okay?” lando asked, catching the look she gave the device as she pulled it out of her pocket.

“max,” lily sighed. “five missed calls this morning.”

he scrunched his nose, breathing out in sympathy.

she slipped onto a chair and pulled her knees up to her chest. lando didn’t say anything as she pressed the phone to her ear – just gave a small supportive nod as he reached for a banana.

“finally,” max’s voice rang sharply through the speakers – loud enough for lando to hear it. “i’ve been trying to get through for hours.”

“sorry, i was asleep.” she replied quietly.

“recovering from all that champagne and having your tongue down lando’s throat?”

lily froze, eyebrows furrowing. “what?”

“i saw you in parc ferm��, and on mclaren’s instagram.” her brother said, cold in tone.

her mouth went dry, throat tightened as if there was actually something wrong with it all. “it’s not like that, max.”

“you’re so fucking naive,” he groaned. “you always do this, lily. lando isn’t like all the other guys you meet back in london, he’s busy and he doesn’t have time for you.”

“he’s nice to you when it suits him – you’re just convenient for him.” max continued. “you’re going to get hurt, lils, he doesn’t actually like you like that.”

“i know he doesn’t – it’s not like that, we’re just friends.”

“i know him, and i know you.” he sighed. “it looks like you’re playing happy families with someone who has a whole roster of girls he forgets about the second he gets on a plane.”

“why are you being so mean?” her voice wobbled a little, resting her head on her knees.

“you just think you’re different, lils. you’re not, you’re just next.”

there was silence on the line – not tension, not regret, just silence.

the warm device was gently pulled from her fingers within a few seconds, and she looked up at the driver, who now had her phone at his ear.

“max?” lando said into the receiver, tone clipped. “don’t speak to her like that ever again”

another pause. lando’s jaw flexed.

“yeah, hi buddy.” he pursed his lips, speaking sarcastically.

she heard max’s voice on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t make out what he was actually saying; her heart thumping in her ears was just too loud.

“i don’t care, max.” lando raised his voice, firm but still calm. “for one, you can’t police her life, so back the fuck off. and you can’t tell me what to do either.”

more silence. lando’s eyes flitted to meet her own for a second.

“you’re fucked off?” he laughed. “you’ve essentially just said you don’t trust me, behind my back – how the fuck do you think i feel, max?”

silence, again. max must have calmed down a bit now.

“alright, see you in london.” lando mumbled, before ending the call.

she was just sitting there, gazing at the british man as he looked back at her.

“i’m sorry,” the driver said, immediately softer as he turned to her. “i didn’t mean to take over or anything–”

“no,” she whispered, getting up. “thankyou.”

he stepped toward her quickly, pulling her into his arms without hesitation. she sank into him instantly, hands curling into the back of his hoodie. lando pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, arms circling her waist, murmuring. “he was out of line, lala.”

“he’s my brother,” she mumbled against his chest.

“he’s an arsehole.”

she didn’t argue, just stayed there for a long moment, just breathing.

eventually, he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

“you okay?” lando asked.

his fingers traced just under her jaw – way too intimate to mean nothing. “good.”

she smiled – barely – and leant into him again.

outside, monaco carried on with its monday morning, glittering and loud and golden.

but in lando’s apartment, they were in their own little world, wrapped up in each other and quiet.

════════════════════════

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moonchildstyles · 7 months ago

Text

cherry

final part of pomegranate: the last of the firsts.

wordcount: 8.2k+

—————

Harry looked at the box in his hand with a pinch between his brows.

Was he maybe getting a little ahead of himself? Sure, but there was such a thing as being under-prepared and that wasn't something he wanted. That was why he was in the middle of the personal hygiene aisle with a box of condoms in hand.

Ribbed for her pleasure, or ultra thin? His brows pulled into a tighter furrow. Would any of these options really make a difference?

God, how was he supposed to know which ones were going to fit?

Reaching for another box, this one black with obnoxious gold lettering, Harry practically jumped out of his skin when a shopping trolley clipped the back of his shoe. In nearly the same instant a rushed sorry came from the older woman operating the cart.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, ready to wave off her apology, "'S alright, no worries."

The smile he had pinned to his face dampened when he saw the woman's gaze drop to the now three boxes in his hands. Her eyes widened just enough that it was noticeable, even if she didn't want it to be.

She attempted to fix her features into something much more pleasant, though her smile was strained. "Have a nice day," she muttered as she continued past, her steps a touch faster than was appropriate down an empty aisle.

The interaction lasted for less than a minute, but Harry was going to be replaying her reaction for hours on end. At least the flush bubbling under his cheeks was going to be there, whether he liked it or not.

Fixing both the knitted cap he had over his hair and the thick hood of his sweatshirt to shadow his face a bit more, Harry tried not to feel embarrassed. This was a very, very normal thing to be doing, buying condoms.

Not that he was having sex or anything. It's just... the opportunity was now on the table and he didn't want to be ill-prepared. Should (Y/N) decide she wanted to share something like that with him, he didn't want to put a stop to the magic because he didn't have the magic stash in his bedside table like he was supposed to.

Not that they were having sex, though. Or even said anything that could allude to changing his virgin status.

But, (Y/N) did tend to spend the night in his room more often than not these days. They weren't exactly glued to each other's sides since he'd been brave enough to confess his feelings those couple of weeks ago, but there was definitely a shift.

Those kisses on the cheek had changed to pecks on the lips. Quick goodbye hugs were now lingering cuddles before they were separated for the work day. Quiet declarations of seeing one another later were now often punctuated with a new three syllable sign off. Nights in front of the television dissolved into sleepovers with a single shared pillow, murmured conversations to be had about topics it appeared neither of them had been brave enough to broach prior to the night in her bedroom.

It was kind of like (Y/N) was his... girlfriend.

Even the thought had a new flush touching Harry's throat and climbing up his jaw.

So, maybe he was getting a bit too ahead of himself when he dropped two of the three boxes in his basket (the ultra thin and specifically sized ones). But, he thought to himself as he began perusing another aisle in search of a quick dinner idea, it might be nice to give into some of his hope.

Hope that she trusted him just as much as he did her.

—————

Hunched over his desk, Harry wanted nothing more than to step into this spreadsheet and rearrange it with his bare hands. Whoever was in charge of formatting these things was going to make him go into early retirement, no—

A delicate pair of hands settled on the shelf of his shoulders. Harry started at the touch, but melted nearly immediately. He was growing to know this touch better than even his own skin.

A soft smile bloomed on his face when he turned in his chair, lifting his headphones off of his ears. Behind him, hands now dropped to her sides, was (Y/N). Pretty as ever, fresh home from work with her hair still pinned back and sensible trousers on her legs. She came to see him before even moving into something more comfortable.

"Hey you," he smiled, looking up at her with what he was sure was stars in his eyes.

"Hi," she greeted, reciprocating the curl of his lips. She made a move to sit on the edge of his bed before him, relaxing into the mahogany bedding. "How's everything going?"

Rolling his neck when he realized just how close he had craned it to look at the screen, he let out a sigh. "'S alright."

"Is it the spreadsheets?" (Y/N) asked, already reaching to place a comforting hand on his knee. Her thumb worked a circuit on the side of the joint, soothing him down more than she even knew.

"Yeah," he breathed, "I don't want to be a problem, but I feel like I've got to talk to someone at this point. 'M having to go back and fix each one before I can even get started on m'side."

Her clear gaze was stitched right to him, a frown pouting her lips. "Don't worry about being a problem, H. It's not fair for you to have to do twice the work, and possibly get behind on what you're supposed to be doing. Say something."

"We'll see," he sighed, encouraged by her words but not sold on the idea of making a name for himself in the office outside of being "Quiet Harry".

He could tell (Y/N) knew where he sat on the fence, but she didn't push him. "We'll see," she agreed, tipping her chin up, "Until then, though, are you almost done for the day?"

Glancing at the time on the alarm clock he had situated on his bedside table, he nodded his head. "I've got ten more minutes before I can clock out."

Her smile grew larger at his words. "Good," she started, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "We should go out tonight. If you want, anyway."

At her suggestion, Harry could't help the way his mind flashed to Collin—Cora's brother from the night at the bars—and the way he had attempted his hand at flirting with (Y/N) many times through the night. Going out again didn't sound particularly fun.

"I don't know, love," Harry said, canting his head as if rolling the idea around, "'S been a long week, s—"

"H," she muttered, jaw dropping in offense, "Are you rejecting me?"

Harry reared back at her accusation. She'd never said anything like that when he said no to bar hopping before. "No, no, I jus'... If y'want to go to the bars, I don't think—'M jus' not—"

"I don't mean going to the bars with Rue and everyone," (Y/N) clarified, her offense turning faux with a laugh entering her tone, "I was asking you to go on a date with me."

Realization settled on him then. To be fair, if she wanted to spend a night out with her friends, she did usually mention who exactly it was that was going out. She didn't really just ask him, not the way she had tonight anyway.

If you want, anyway.

"I... I didn't know," he muttered, cheeks running red and warm, "Sorry."

A bubbling laugh fell from her lips as she leant forward and pressed her lips to his cheek ,right where his dimple would appear when she made him smile. "I figured. But, if you're tired and all, we don't have to, I was just joking before. We can plan a different night if that's easi—"

"No, no, I want to. I really want to."

"You're not tired?" (Y/N) pressed, taking her turn at being the incredulous one.

"No. Not for this," he cemented, eagerly casting the thought of Collin out of his head. "We can do anything y'want tonight."

She raised a brow. "You're sure?"

A definitive nod came from him.

"Well," she started, eyes sparkling and giddy, "We could go to dinner at that Italian place we like. Or, we could do something new."

Something new. Just the string of those words brought the nerves in Harry's skin to attention. That was how she described every first Harry had with her—something new.

The condoms in his bedside table suddenly seemed to have a spotlight directly on the drawer.

Blinking back to (Y/N) before she could catch his distraction, he answered, "Something new."

Her smile grew.

—————

"Wasabi just tastes like soap to me. I don't know, it's not that spicy it's just... sudsy."

Harry laughed at the face of disgust forming on (Y/N)'s features. If he were in a movie, he could see himself letting out a dreamy sigh as he dropped his chin to his palm, leaning across the table to get a better look at his darling. Instead, he attempted to play it cool and only let a gentle smile settle on his face as he glanced at her through his lashes.

"Y'haven't had the right stuff, that's all," Harry offered, tipping his chin up, "When I was in Ja—"

"When you were in Japan, you had the real stuff, I know, I know," (Y/N) cut him off, a teasing smile on her lips as she pinched another piece of her spicy salmon roll between chopsticks, "Trust me, I haven't forgotten when you left me for a whole month."

"You could've come with me," he sang, topping his head, "I think y'would've really liked it."

And, he wouldn't have been texting her every day several times despite the time difference, clinging to her through a screen. He would've had her at his side, experiencing something he now held so dear to his heart.

"Maybe next time," she cemented, the same way she always did when he brought up the expedition, "We'll just have to figure out a way to get me to sleep through the whole flight, so I don't get sick."

He knew her request was nothing but a silly joke, but there was a part of Harry that was determined to find a myriad of ways to make it so she had nothing but a pleasant experience if he was lucky enough to get her on a flight with him.

"I'll figure something out," he said, a determined pinch appearing between his brows.

Underneath the table, her foot knocked against his, drawing his eyes ip from where they fell to the dish of soy sauce stationed between them. He caught her eye as she looked at him, an affectionate smile draped over her features.

"You don't have to think so hard about it, H," she laughed, "I think we've got some time. We'll figure it out together."

Together. Together. The syllables were enough to make his heart patter a bit harder behind his ribs. The two of them being together, forming an us. For the first time ever, there was a chance Harry would be more than an I and be something with someone else. All with the one person he deemed too far out of his grasp years ago.

He suddenly felt sheepish, with a flush creeping under the collar of his sweater. They were on a real date tonight—all under (Y/N)'s request. He didn't think anything could beat an evening in with one of their shows on the television, but this sushi dinner was becoming stiff competition.

"What?" she asked, knocking her foot against his once more.

"Hm?" Harry blinked, focusing his gaze on her once more. Just the sight of her was enough for the flush to climb an inch higher up his throat. That was (Y/N) sitting across from him, bathed in the glow of paper lanterns with her pretty, perfect, everything eyes on him.

"What are you thinking about? You're getting all red," she pressed, a slight smile on her lips before popping another piece of her roll in her mouth.

Harry shook his head, feeling the swirls of his hair drift across his forehead. "Nothing, jus'... you know."

Was it lame to acknowledge the first date while you were on it? He thought at the very least it wasn't very suave to talk about how much he was blown away by the fact they'd even made it to this benchmarker when they were still sitting across from one another.

"'You know' what?" She leaned over her plate conspiratorially, as if in search of a secret, "Did I miss something?"

"No, I jus' mean," he started, dropping his eyes to where he pushed around the fallen rice grains from his tuna and avocado rolls, "'S still... 'S crazy, you know—us."

Harry watched the way her lashes fluttered, eyes turning down towards her own plate for a brief moment. "A little," she agreed, "Mostly because we said I love you before we'd even gone on a date."

A bubbling laugh left his chest. Things were most definitely out of order between them, though he wouldn't have it any other way. This route worked in his favor, even if it was years in the making.

"Jus' a little backwards," he nodded, dimples denting his cheeks, "But, 's worked, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," she said, nudging his foot with hers. A playful sparkle entered her eyes, a sly smile on her lips. "If you'd just told me you were a virgin earlier, we probably would have gotten here a lot faster."

Harry choked out a laugh, feeling his skin heat that much more. Maybe the whole restaurant didn't need to know about his sexual status, but it was still funny.

"I was nervous," he muttered, shaking his head with a shy smile. "Didn't think it was a very sexy thing to tell the girl I've been in love with for years."

(Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes. "Years?"

Buying himself a minute, Harry sipped from his drink. It wasn't a secret now that he was in love with her, but it still felt nerve-racking to share the details of one of his longest held secrets. He doubted that she would be completely turned off hearing just how long he'd had his eyes on her, but it didn't make it any easier to share.

"Since university," he murmured, moving quickly to stuff a bite of his roll in his mouth.

Her expression warmed, full of rounded edges and soft eyes. "Really?"

He nodded.

"I can't believe you never told me," she smiled, giving away any attention she may have paid to her dinner to land right on him, "I mean, I know why now, but... I had the biggest crush on you when we met. I just never thought you liked me back."

"You did?" Harry blanched. He remembered many things from those first few months with (Y/N), but he didn't remember a single moment of when she may have held any affection for him.

"Oh yeah," she solidified, "Like, bad. I told, like, all of our friends about it. But, it never seemed like you wanted anything more than to be friends, so I kind of let it go. Obviously not completely, but I thought that if you wanted something, we'd get there when we were supposed to get there."

"And y'think we're supposed to be there now?" God, he really hoped so.

A grin stretched over her lips.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

So much giddy energy lived in Harry's body just listening to her. This was his real life? This was what that morning in his bedroom led to?

Despite wanting to run around, scream, scale trees, and swim the ocean, Harry nodded his head.

"Me too."

—————

"You know," (Y/N) started, taking her shoes off to be left in a heap by the front door, "I don't usually invite anyone inside on the first date."

Harry's grin was dreamy as he gazed at her. "No?"

"Oh no," she shook her head, stepping towards him. "Never. You're the exception."

Once she was close enough, she reached up to loop her arms around her neck. Harry, complete with a pounding heart, settled his hands on her waist. The curve was more familiar to him than he ever thought he would have the privilege of knowing. He just hoped she wouldn't be able to feel the way his skin was growing clammy under her top.

"Yeah?" he prodded, liking the game she was setting forth. "Why's that?"

"Well," she started, "First of all, you live here"—she earned a laugh out of him for that one—"Second, you made me laugh a lot tonight. Third, I think you're really hot."

Even though he knew she was playing around, attempting to make him laugh, it was nice to hear her say those things.

"I do live here," he cemented, tipping his head before tipping his chin down to face her, "But the rest... you mean that?"

"Harry, you're the funniest person I've ever met," she said using the leverage of her arms around his neck to pull him lower, "And you know I think you're really hot, right? Or have I not made that clear enough?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Maybe you need to remind me."

Harry only saw a quick flash of the eager grin on her face before she rose to press her lips to his. It was soft and affectionate, the way she slotted her lips against his. He pulled her top lip between his two as he pulsed his hands on her waist. He could taste the honey dessert they shared at the restaurant lingering on her mouth. Even more so when he felt the barest sweep of her tongue graze his lip.

He could feel his skin already beginning to warm, his chest pounding. The condoms he'd purchased sprung to the forefront of his mind.

Was he being too presumptuous that she would want to sleep with him just because they'd gone on a date? Was he looking too far ahead when he pictured her wrapped in his sheets once more? It was too much to assume that she would let him replay the moment before he went on his knees for her, when he laid above her with her legs around his hips, pelvises slotted together. Right?

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, blinking up at him with glittering eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" His brain wasn't working very clearly at the moment.

"Are you alright?" she asked again, concern painting her features, "You seem distracted. We don't have to do anything, you know. Just because we went on a date, and all, it doesn't mean we have to."

His hands on her waist tensed when he realized what she was saying. She thought he didn't want to do anything more with her tonight? How she could have arrived at that conclusion when he was the one clutching at her waist as he hungrily kissed her, he wasn't sure. There were times he was sure she was living in his mind, hearing his thoughts and understanding everything he wanted before he had the chance to utter a word. Other times, like this, he wasn't sure how they were even in the same room.

"That's—No—I'm... 'M fine," he cemented, "I jus' didn't want to make you feel like we had to do anything."

She blinked with a flutter of lashes. "I mean I want to, but it's up to you, H."

He figured it would be a bit embarrassing if he had the mind to think of anything but (Y/N) and the turn the night was taking, but there was no time for that. Not when he had to keep his imagination in check, lest he pull her a little too close to his body and she realized just how eager he was to hear her words.

"I want to," he rushed out, tongue tripping over itself, "I really want to."

A small grin curled (Y/N)'s lips. Her arms around his neck shifted until she curled the strands at the nape around her fingers. "You really want to?"

She was trying to play around with him, get him to laugh and ease him through his confession, but that wasn't where Harry's mind was going. He pulled her flush against him, feeling every curve and dip of her body against the rigid muscles of his own. He wouldn't be surprised to hear that his eyes had gone dark, pupils blown.

"I want you," he cemented, a grumble to his voice.

Harry watched as (Y/N)'s expression dropped into something liquid and hazy. Her lips parted with brows downturned. He couldn't help but imagine this is what she would look like pleading for him, dilated pupils and soft features.

A beat passed.

"Your room or mine?"

Harry didn't have to think: "Mine."

—————

Harry was restless as he laid back. Clad in a bold move of only sweatpants, he couldn't help but play with the strings at his waist. (Y/N) was still in the bathroom, cleansing herself of the day before returning, leaving him with too much time to himself.

Was he ready for something like this? He didn't doubt that this was something he wanted to do with (Y/N), but he worried. Was he going to feel different in the morning? Was she going to feel different about him in the aftermath?

God, what if he was bad?

Maybe he should tell (Y/N) he wanted to go to bed, that he was a little too tired. That would be best, right? That way he wouldn't be able to disappoint her, or himself. When she came back, he would tell her that he really loved her still, he just wasn't feeling well—maybe he'd blame it on the sushi? That' would be believable, and then he could hope that she'd still share his bed with him and then they'd wake up in the morning and everything would be as it always was and he wouldn't have to worry about—

Stepping through the threshold, (Y/N) wore a large shirt and a smile. The makeup she donned for their date was washed away, leaving clean skin and curled lashes behind. Her hair was loose, framing her face as she gazed at him. She moved with familiarity through the room, padding on socked feet over his floor.

"Hi you," she said once she reached the edge, climbing on the mattress towards him. "You look comfy."

He swallowed around his dry throat. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the stretched neckline of her sleep-top, giving him a view he wanted so badly to feel bad about glimpsing.

"Um, yeah," he muttered, blinking back to reality when she joined him on his pillow, "Jus' waiting for you."

"Well, I'm here now. No more waiting, right?"

No more waiting. The thought had his cock stirring in his lap.

"Right," he muttered.

Reaching out, (Y/N) placed her hand on his cheek. Her fingertips breached the baby curls on his hairline, thumb coasting over the height of his cheekbone. "You're still alright?"

"Yeah," he whispered, "'M jus'... nervous."

The curl on her lips was comforting. "What's making you nervous?"

He turned to face her, laying on his side with their noses only inches apart. His eyes traced over her features, noting the small blemishes and marks over the soft skin, the places he wanted to kiss so badly. "I want it to be good. I want to be good."

"You are going to be perfect. We'll be in this together, there's nothing to be scared of."

"But," Harry started, dropping his eyes from hers to line over her jaw, "I jus' don't want to disappoint you. 'M worried I waited too long."

A pinch appeared between her brows, incredulous. "You waiting is not going to make you disappoint me. You did what you felt was right for you, and that's okay. I mean, honestly, this is working in my favor—more for me."

He let out a breathy laugh as she bounced her shoulder. This was the reason he had made it this far with her. She did nothing but ease him, comfort him, make every breath worth it. "You think so?"

"I know so," she cemented, tipping her head to press her lips to his chin, "No matter what, anything that happens—or doesn't happen—tonight, isn't going to change how I feel about you. You've already got me."

He could feel his breath being taken away. You've already got me.

All Harry could manage to croak out was, "I love you," before he caught her mouth in a kiss.

There was an urgency behind the affection that they hadn't started the evening with. This time, he tasted the crisp peppermint of her toothpaste only to be overpowered by the raspberry taste of her lip oil. The scent of her lotion perfumed around him, wafting through his nose and tinting his thoughts with vanilla cotton clouds. He reached out and caged an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him.

Their legs tangled as (Y/N) parted her lips for him. It was her that gave the first swipe of her tongue over his bottom lip, tasting with a breathing moan. Harry felt his brows knit in the middle, fingertips denting into the plush of her form. He wanted so badly to be closer to her; feeling her against his body wasn't close enough. Especially not with layers of clothing between, no matter how threadbare her top appeared to be.

Slipping his tongue against her own, (Y/N) let out another moan into his mouth. She hooked her leg over his hip as she swept her tongue through his mouth, tasting one another more than he'd ever thought he'd have the privilege of doing. Her hand on his cheek wandered until she was sliding through his hair, nails on his scalp until she found her way to the pillow cushioning their heads.

With her hand stationed on the pillow and leg hooked over his thigh, she made the move to roll their bodies. Harry kept her steady with his arm a cage around her waist, helping her as she moved to sit astride him.

Harry couldn't help himself when he pulled away, eager to see her above him for the first time. (Y/N) looked down at him with swollen lips and glazed eyes. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, her breasts pressing into the material of her top, nipples outlined. He could feel the weight of her on his lap, warm and heavy over his thickening cock.

He was sure a look of awe molded his face, only heightened when he ran his hands over her body. The barrier of her top couldn't shield him from feeling the dips and curves. He felt the swell of her breasts and ladder of her ribs as if nothing were in the way. The heat of her form radiated out of her, painting over his already warmed palms.

"You're so gorgeous," he muttered, feeling compelled to bathe her in praise and nothing but. "So, so gorgeous, love. 'M so fucking lucky, oh my god."

Her smile was sweet over her kiss-swollen mouth. "I'm the lucky one," she argued, "If you could see what I see right now..."

She trailed off when her attention was handed to the route his hands took over her body. He wanted so badly to concentrate on her words, but how could he do that when the hem of her shirt was pulled tight over the expanse of her thighs. He tucked his hands under that taut hem and pulled upwards. A breathy silence filled the room.

More and more of her body was revealed as he tugged. Plush, dreamy thighs. Flared hips. Bare, panty-less core (he wondered if she felt the way his cock reacted at the sight). Soft stomach and curved waist. Soft skin blooming with goosebumps when he reached her ribs. The underside of her breasts. Harry's hands stalled then.

(Y/N) nodded down at him, the permission he was looking for.

In one final tug, Harry pulled her shirt over her head. The material fell into a pile on his floor, out of sight out of mind. Especially when he had what he did on his lap.

Bare for his eyes only, (Y/N)'s body was presented to him in soft dips and swells. Her nipples were tight over her breasts, chest heaving as she pulled in deep breaths. Her skin was warm, soft and fragranced, drawing him in like a honeybee to a flower. Everything he ever needed was right before him—inside and out.

He could feel his jaw go slack as he grazed his hands down her shoulders, skating down her breasts and soft stomach. All the way down to the bones of her hips and plush thighs.

Only one thought came to mind.

"I love you."

The gentle smile on her face felt out of place compared to her dilated eyes and Harry's hard cock. "I love you too," she replied simply, dropping down to press her lips to his, "So much, H."

A careful roll of her hips over his took away his breath. His mouth stilled under hers, parted in a small gape as she moved her kissing to the very corner. He frantically grabbed at her hips, fingertips denting into the soft flesh.

He felt every tightening and shifting of her muscles when she gave another dragging rock of her core against him. Against his chest, he felt the tips of her breasts grazing over his skin.

Fuck, she was naked. (Y/N) was naked on top of him. She was fucking him through his clothes. What the fuck is his life, what the fu—

(Y/N) swirled her hips, disrupting the shy rhythm she was developing and Harry's breathing.

It was clear, even through the material of his sweats, that she was wet. She really did want him no matter what he lacked.

The thought had him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting upwards. It was (Y/N)'s turn to let out a squeaking breath, taken aback. He was sure she was able to feel just how ready he was, how desperate he was to have more, feel more, touch more of her.

"Harry," she started, a pitch to her voice, "I—Are you.. If you're ready, I-I am. Please."

"I am, I am," he muttered, "Jus'... I have something, hold on."

Blindly reaching for the bedside table, Harry rooted around the drawer. (Y/N) was more than distracting as she dragged her hands down his chest, bringing him back to the last time he felt such soft hands grazing his skin.

But, he needed to focus. He needed to find the box and open the flap and pull out a condom as quickly as he could. In hindsight, he realized it might not have been the best idea to buy two separate boxes; now he couldn't be sure which one he was grabbing until it was on.

"Do you need hel—Oh." Blinking back to reality, he saw a smile bloom over (Y/N)'s lips. "Did you buy condoms?"

"Um," he muttered, "Maybe?"

(Y/N) reached into the drawer herself and pulled out a foil packet with ease. She handled the shiny square, sitting back on his hips above him.

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" she teased as she tore the top off, "You know it's not good to assume."

With his hands on her hips, thumbs sitting in the creases between her thighs and the small of her stomach. "I mean, you are in my bed."

A bubbling laugh filled his room as she threw her head back. "You're right. You're just well prepared, I guess." With the foiled packet ripped open and ready, she looked at him with raised brows. "Did you...?"

He swallowed, fighting off the sheepish flush that wanted to bloom over his bare chest. "I've never put on one before."

"I can do it," she assured him, that gentle, patient smile on her lips.

All it took was a nod from him before (Y/N) shuffled over his form. Sitting back, she made enough room to pull the waist of his sweats to the middle of his thighs. His cock bobbed out, ruddy head already throbbing with a thick vein on the underside. The chilled air of his bedroom was enough to have goosebumps flicking over his form.

When he saw (Y/N) pull the rubber from the packet, he knew it was going to be in his best interest to look only at her face. He wasn't going to be able to handle the sight of her handling his cock, not when he was already so high strung.

Of course, that plan went down the drain the second he saw her curl over and press a precursory kiss to the head of his cock.

Why the fuck would she do that? Why would she do that when he was already teetering on the edge of his control? He could feel a blurt of precum drip over his crown.

"Sorry," she muttered, stretching the condom from the coil made in the foil, "I just missed it and all."

What the fuck?

Harry didn't have another moment to dwell when he felt her begin to roll the condom over his length. He hadn't even recovered from her kiss before he was contending with the soft of her hands once more. She must have plucked the ultra-thin style from his drawer with the way he could feel every cease and ridge of her palm. His balls drew up tight against his shaft, matching the coiling pit he felt in his stomach.

His hands on her hips grew tense, holding her tightly lest he lose control much too early. He knew good and well he wasn't going to be able to last very long at all tonight, but he didn't have to give in this quickly.

"Does it feel okay?" (Y/N) asked, decidedly breathless compared to just a moment before.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry babbled as she continued to stroke her hand over his length, "Feels so good."

Too good, he wanted to amend. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunched, readying for something he couldn't allow to happen yet

He could hear the smile in her voice when she let out a small good but he didn't have it in him to play around or listen to her teasing. He needed to be inside her before he cut the night short before it even began.

"S-Stop, stop," he said, reaching out to stop her touch, "Sorry."

"Too much?" she asked, already adjusting where she sat on his thighs.

"Too much," he agreed, "Don't wanna—Not before we've—"

"I know," she said, filling in the blanks his stumbling left behind, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he breathed, "I love you."

A soft blink of her lashes, short smile on her lips. "I love you, too."

Truthfully, Harry thought he would have a moment before she moved again. But, he had to watch in awe as she raised to her knees, shuffling to hover above his stiff cock. She muttered something when she reached for his length, holding him steady before looking towards him.

"You trust me?"

His heart could have cracked right through his chest and made its way right to her then. "I trust you."

Holding his breath, Harry watched as she sunk down on his cock. The warmth hit him first.

Never had his hand—covered in lube and his own body heat—had ever felt that warm. She moved slowly, allowing her pussy to split open on him as she accepted the tip inside her channel. The tightness hit him next. He thought her throat was snug, but that had nothing on the way her walls pulsed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper. He could feel the ridges and texture, completely unique to the woman above him. Just how wet she was hit him last. A slick noise sounded when she sat down on him, clit hitting the thatch of tamed hair at his base.

He had disappeared completely inside of her. Breathless noises left (Y/N) as she adjusted, her own eyes going a bit glossy when he dared to match them. She wasn't even moving, staying stationary above him, and yet he could feel the way her insides fluttered around him each time she attempted to catch her breath.

Her thighs were spread wide around his hips, chest heaving and skin bubbling with warmth. She placed her hands on the small of his stomach, palms molding around the blocky muscles on his abdomen. Her fingertips dug gently into him, the clarity of her nails pressing into his flesh was enough to tie him to the world.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice broken.

"Sorry, sorry," she squeaked, "Just give m-me a second. You're—oh my god, H, you're—"

He wanted to know exactly what it was that she thought of him, but it was its own fantasy to see her so out of it. To see her unable to even complete a sentence when he was inside her.

Fuck, he was inside her.

Harry was having sex with (Y/N). Holy shit.

Almost involuntarily, he rocked his hips upwards. Her pussy clenched around him. He watched as she exhaled, the air pulled out of her.

A call of his name filled the room, pitched and dreamy as she blinked at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Tell me," she started, swallowing around her tongue, "Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Harry couldn't manage any words. He only nodded his head.

As he watched her raise herself to her knees, his cock sliding out of her, Harry held onto her hips like a lifeline. He was going to have to hope against hope that he didn't immediately cum the second she sank down again.

Unceremoniously, she dropped back down to his hips with a soft slap of their hips meeting. Her pussy fluttered around him, adding to the friction of her tight opening squeezing down his length.

"Shit," he murmured, his toes curling and hands tightening.

Spurred on by his reaction, (Y/N) performed the action against, curating a rhythm with every drop of her hips against his. Her slick opening was like a vice around him, her wetness dripping down until it smeared across his base. His balls slapped against her rear everytime she sat down, knocking the breath out of her in small uh's leaving her chest. Her breasts bounced above him, nipples tight in the open air.

Harry laid back in awe. Pure amazement coated his brain. How pleasure like this could exist, and he could partake in it with a woman like this was a miracle in itself.

"(Y/N)," he moaned, reaching his hands over her body. He couldn't touch enough of her, feel enough of her against his skin. "You're so—fuck—'M—"

"I know, I know," she rushed out, nodding her head as she moved her hands to land atop his. "I want to cum with you, I want to cum with you."

"I—I don't—" he stumbled. What was the hottest way he could tell her that he was already on borrowed time? "'M sorry, love. Y'feel too good, I can't—"

(Y/N) cut him off with a smear of her lips against his, laying flush against his body. Her breasts pressed against his chest, sweat trapped between their bodies as her hips continued to rock against him. He couldn't help himself, bucking up against her as her walls pulsed around him. He swore he could feel the pounding of her heartbeat through their skin, the cages of their ribs.

Moans spilled from her lips as she rolled her hips against his, clit pressed against his base. Every thrust upwards, meeting her in the middle, was enough to knock calls of his name from her chest. Pussy gave snug sucks around him, pulling and pulling and pulling at everything he was willing to give.

Her kissing was messy, off centered and clumsy, but it was the best he'd ever had. His favorite. She was his favorite everything, the best (albeit, only) he'd ever had in every way possible. His eyes scrunched closed, features screwed up in pleasure he only just realized existed. All at the hands of the woman he loved.

"Harry," she murmured, voice heavy and thick as it fanned over his mouth, "Harry, you can fi-finish whenever you want. You don't have to wait—oh my god—wait for me."

He wasn't sure when he started speaking, but eventually he could hear the rambling mummer of his own voice declaring that he loved her over and over again. His hands roaming over her body turned into a hugging vice, keeping her tight against him as he offered sloppy kisses. His hips bucked in short, clumsy thrusts against her, the soft slaps of their skin mixing wit the slick noises of every inch of him sinking in and out of her opening.

She was so wet, and warm, and tight, and, fuck, this was a dream. This whole moment, this night, this life was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. Not when here he was able to feel (Y/N)'s body against his, and her heart hammering out of her chest in reach of his own. Not when she was kissing him and soothing him with her own declarations of love. Not when he trusted her more than anything.

In the pit of his stomach, Harry began unraveling. His throat ran dry, a soundless gape parting his lips. (Y/N) moved her kissing to the side of his face, over the bridge of his nose, one the height of his cheekbones.

Different than any time he'd managed to get himself off, he was barely aware of the first ropes of his cum spurting from his body. He was much too enveloped in the feel of (Y/N) and her body to realize that the extra warmth he felt was his release filling the condom. All he felt was the blinding relief of the pounds of tension flooding from his bones. He tried to keep up with (Y/N) meeting her hips halfway as she rocked above him, her own rhythm being disrupted by the hold he had on her, but there was no room in his brain for control over his body.

He was left to the mercy of the harsh thrusts upwards, coinciding with the roping of his cum. Clarity only sunk in when he began to come down. His release came in short bursts then, matching the aftershocks he felt at the motion of (Y/N)'s body above him.

Drawing away just enough, (Y/N) cupped her hands around his cheeks. "H?" she asked, breathless.

"'M here, 'm here," he croaked, nodding his head in jerky motions. "'M so sorry, I didn't—I wanted us to be together, I jus' couldn't—"

"I know," she cut him off, her voice ever patient despite the heat lacing her veins, "It's okay, it's okay. I don't mind, I'm just happy you felt good."

"I feel perfect, you're perfect." He could only hold her tight against his chest, uncaring of the sweat glistening on his skin. He felt better, more complete to feel her so close. "Did you...?"

From where she burrowed into the crook of his neck, (Y/N) shook her head. "But, it's okay," she rushed out, "I don't nee—"

"No, no," he started, "Tha's not fair, you—I want you to feel good, too."

"I did," she insisted, "I do, but you—"

A gasp escaped her when Harry fit his hand between their bodies. He reached where they met, hips locked together until he met the top of her slit. He could feel the way she had split open to accommodate him, slick and puffy from the way she had bounced atop him. Her clit throbbed when he pressed the pad of his finger to the bud, coinciding with the squeaking that came from the back of her throat. His own throat let out a strangled moan when he felt the way her walls fluttered and tightened around him.

"Harry, you don't—oh my god—"

He didn't pay her fumbling words any mind. He didn't care if she didn't think this was necessary. He wasn't going to be like the rejects before him that made so many claims and pretended to be the best, only to let her down and push her to go home without release. While he was sure he was far from her best (that would come with more practice, he hoped), he was at least going. to make sure that she left his room with something worthwhile.

It didn't take very long before he felt her become impossibly warm around him, slick dripping around his cock. The ultra-thin rubber around his cock did little to dull the tight vice of heat around him. His breath was knocked from his lungs, his skin hypersensitive as he worked her through her own orgasm. If he hadn't already just cum, he was sure that feeling just her release alone would be enough to make him grow hard and desperate again.

Floating back down to earth, Harry knew she was back with him when she pressed a small kiss to the line of his jaw.

"Thanks," she peeped.

Harry let out a bubbling laugh, the edges of his voice dipped in exhaustion. "Don't thank me for that," he muttered, holding her tight as he slipped his hand away from her clit, "You're silly."

He could feel the way she smiled hearing him call her the same thing she always did him.

"Love you," she crooned, "A lot."

"Love you more," he countered. It was the truth.

He couldn't imagine another being in the whole universe could be capable of holding the amount of love and affection he currently housed in his body. Not when he was the one getting to hold the most perfect woman life had to offer.

(Y/N) nuzzled into his neck. "Sure," she teased, giving into his game for now, "We need to get cleaned up, H."

Harry shook his head, keeping her close to him. "Five more minutes. Please."

She didn't say anything, only melting against him. His eyes fluttered to a close, content.

—————

Harry's eyes followed his finger as he traced it down the line of her nose. He felt the even puffs of breaths fan across his hand as he reached the tip. A small, sleepy smile touched his mouth.

He wasn't sure how early it was or just how long it'd been since he cracked his eyes open, but in the quiet of her bedroom (washing his sheets was a task they pushed off for today), time didn't seem to be real. Eternity existed in this small moment, letting him memorialize every plane and line of her features. If he could, he would lay here for the rest of his life counting each of her lashes.

He thought he would feel so different this morning, wrapped in her sheets. He thought that his skin would feel different, or the way he felt about her might have shifted. He thought there might have been some invisible barrier that would have been lifted, something that made it clear that he wasn’t who he was a day ago. But, Harry only felt like himself.

If anything, there was an anxiety that had lifted. There was more of him to give and he wasn’t afraid to do so. As long as it was with (Y/N), anyway.

Focused on the sweep of his finger over her lips, Harry hadn't realized he wasn't alone until her mouth came to a pucker and kissed his digit. Flicking his gaze up to hers, he found her just barely blinking her eyes open to see him in the same morning light he was admiring her in.

"You're awake," he murmured, voice rumbling and low.

She gave another kiss to his finger before her mouth bloomed into a smile. "You're awake and still in bed," she teased, "Last night must have really done a number on you."

"A little," he smiled, "Worth it."

Tipping her chin just so, she pressed a single kiss to his lips. She took a moment to nudge her nose against his own, an affectionate puppy's kiss, before rolling away.

Harry watched as she stretched, a breathy whimper squeaking from her chest as she curled her toes and elongated her arms.

"H?"

He hummed an acknowledgment, eyes drawn to the lines of her body.

"Is it too soon to ask you to shower with me?"

"No," he rushed out, "I mean—yes! It's not too soon, no. Yes, I want to shower with you."

"You're silly," she laughed, shaking her head before turning her sights on him.

The smile she had on her lips was warm and pretty, creasing the corners of her eyes. He'd follow her anywhere when she looked at him like that. Even into the unknown.

He trusts her.

—————

cherries are thought to be the first taste of love; the fruit picked by Venus.

:)))))) final part!! o really hope you all liked going on this little journey with me! the h is so special to me so I hope you liked him and his story like I did! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and pleaseeeee let me know if you have any fun ideas or anything you want to share!

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