#you know this is exactly the kind of moment i have before i go drink beer and then beat the shit out of a snake

[storiesforallfandoms]

extreme jealousy ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2075

request?: no

description: in which she’s finally had enough of thomas shelby when he supposedly kills the man she’s been having a fling with

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Tommy was in his study when he heard the sound of his front door slamming shut. He knew exactly who it was. He had left the door unlocked for her, anticipating her appearance.

When she appeared in the doorway, her jaw was clenched and one of her hands was balled into a fist. Tommy simply glanced up from his paper work at her. “Hello, (Y/N).”

“You absolute fucking prick,” she sneered. “You fucking killed Alfie?!”

Tommy sighed, as if (Y/N)’s outburst was an inconvenience to him. “(Y/N) - ”

“No!” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit you have cooked up to tell me to try and justify what you did.”

If she was pissed off upon her arrival, then (Y/N) became furious when Tommy took off his glasses and placed them on his desk, then stood and calmly walked to his assortment of liquor. He picked up two glasses, without asking (Y/N) if she wanted one. He knew she’d just continue to throw profanities at him anyways. He dropped two ice cubes each into the glasses and poured them a glass of whiskey each.

Tommy didn’t have to ask how she found out about Alfie so quickly, because he had sent someone to tell her. The moment he knew he would have to kill Alfie, he called for Johnny Dogs to come with him. Johnny was confused at first, thinking Tommy was requesting backup for his meeting. However, when they arrived, Tommy explained he wanted Johnny to witness what was happening, and once it was finished, he wanted Johnny to go tell (Y/N) what had happened.

The news would’ve gotten to her either way, he knew. The smallest kindness he could give her was to make sure she knew right away, and that she knew the truth.

Mostly the truth.

When he offered her the glass, Tommy didn’t expect her to simply take it. He figured she would’ve hurtled the liquor at him, the glass too. He didn’t expect the offering to go well. To his surprise, however, (Y/N) looked at him for a long time before snatching the glass from his hand. She downed the contents in one gulp before handing the glass back to Tommy. Despite his amusement, Tommy knew better than to smile or chuckle.

“Alfie betrayed us,” he explained, as he handed (Y/N) his own glass and went to pour more whiskey into the empty glass for himself. “He gave Changretta information that led to Arthur almost getting murdered. You know I could not let the betrayal go, but especially not when my family’s life is on the line.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You put your own family’s lives on the line all the time.”

“I never make them do something that could kill them. I calculate very move - ”

“Oh, bullshit,” (Y/N) cut him off. “I’ve known you long enough, Tommy. You don’t calculate shit. You send anyone out into the line of fire, and you get lucky enough that no one gets killed.”

There was a tense silence. (Y/N) had a moment of realization about what she said. She let out a heavy sigh and uttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy simply took a sip of his drink. (Y/N) mirrored him, drinking this glass much slower than the last.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” she finally said. Her tone was a little more calm, but Tommy could still hear the anger.

“I had to prove a lesson.”

“You could’ve done that without fucking killing him, Tommy!”

“There’s no other way, (Y/N). If I just wounded him but let him live, it would put out a different message about me and about the Peaky Blinders. It would let everyone know that you can betray us and get away with it.”

(Y/N) was shaking her head. In the dim light of Tommy’s office, he could see tears welling up in her eyes. He had to look away from her so she didn’t see how much her upset was affecting him.

“It’s not just the betrayal,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I know it’s not. You were looking for any reason to get rid of Alfie since you found out about us.”

Tommy’s hand tightened around his glass.

It had been merely a month ago that Tommy had walked into Alfie Solomon’s office and found him with (Y/N) on his lap. Luckily, their clothes were still on and nothing indecent was happening. If he had shown up a few minutes later they probably would’ve been, but all he walked in on was the two of them making out. (Y/N) was quickly off Alfie’s lap and out the door after Tommy’s interruption, muttering something about seeing Tommy later. Alfie nonchalantly explained to Tommy that he and (Y/N) had been fucking around for a while now.

Even now, Alfie’s explanation made Tommy angry. “Fucking around”, not even “seeing each other”, which would’ve indicated that Alfie saw (Y/N) as more than just someone to call for a quick fuck. And Tommy thought she deserved more than that.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he told her.

“Bullshit!” (Y/N) snapped. “You need to have control over everyone in your life. You never liked Alfie, even though you two are exactly alike. So when you realized you were losing control over me because I was with Alfie, you wanted a reason to get rid of him! It’s not fucking fair, Tommy! You can’t keep controlling everyone just because you think you’re fucking God! We are all human beings, we are not your playthings!”

As she ranted, Tommy approached (Y/N). He grabbed hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “(Y/N), Alfie isn’t dead!”

(Y/N) stopped talking abruptly. She furrowed her brows at him, as if she didn’t believe him. “But...Johnny Dogs came to my place. He said he was there, he said he saw you shoot Alfie in the eye. He said...he said you left him on the beach.”

Tommy sighed. He hadn’t planned on telling (Y/N) the truth, that he hadn’t actually killed Alfie. The more people who thought Alfie was actually dead, the better. Just like with their plan to fake Arthur’s death. But he couldn’t stand to have (Y/N) here yelling at him over Alfie’s fake death any longer. He thought he could convince her it was the right thing to do, but the more angry she was, the more he was afraid he was actually pushing her away.

“The shot missed,” he admitted. “It grazed Alfie’s cheek instead. After I sent Johnny Dogs to your place, I went back to check for myself. Alfie was still breathing, albeit he was bleeding out quickly. I made some calls, had some people go get him and patch him up so he wouldn’t die. And I sent a message to him to get the fuck out of Birmingham once he was fully recovered. I may have let him live, but he still betrayed us and my message still needed to be heard.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were searching Tommy’s face, trying to see if there was a hint of dishonesty. Finally, she asked, “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck sakes, Tommy!” She broke away from him, her anger ignited again.

Now, Tommy was starting to get frustrated as well. He thought telling (Y/N) would mean she would drop the subject. That she would stop getting angry with him and they could move on from Alfie. So, he also snapped, “I don’t want you to see Alfie anymore!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The whole room fell still. (Y/N) literally took a step back at Tommy’s outburst. He wanted desperately to take it back, but it was out there now. He turned away from her and went to filled his glass again, which had managed to go empty in the last few minutes.

(Y/N) finally broke the silence to say, “So...did you kill - try to kill Alfie...because you were jealous?”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the reason.”

“But...but Lizzie...”

Tommy sighed. Indeed, Lizzie.

The woman who was currently carrying his child. The woman who he held such a high regard for. The woman he had used when he was missing Grace a little and was heartbroken after seeing Alfie and (Y/N) together. A brief moment of vulnerability that resulted in a child.

“I intend to marry Lizzie,” Tommy admitted. “I have to. I respect her too much to let her give birth to a bastard child.”

“But you don’t love her.”

Tommy shook it head. “She doesn’t love me, either. We’ve both established that. We accidentally created a child together, and the right thing to do in this situation is to be married so that Lizzie isn’t a mother out of wedlock and the child isn’t a bastard.”

Tears were welling up in (Y/N)’s eyes again. “Well then, you’ve managed to break my heart twice in one day, Tommy.”

(Y/N) had turned and left his office before Tommy would comprehend what she had said. He was quick to put down his glass and race after her. She was taking quick strides to get to the door before he could reach her, but in the end Tommy was faster. He took hold of her shoulders again, stopping her in her tracks and turning her to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just let it go, Tommy.”

“No. (Y/N), what do you mean I broke your heart twice?”

She was crying now, unable to stop the flow of tears. She looked up into Tommy’s eyes and said, “The first time you broke my heart was when you sent Johnny Dogs to tell me you killed Alfie. The second time was when you told me you loved me and made me think I had a chance, before telling me you intend on marrying another woman.”

Tommy could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. There was no way (Y/N) was admitting to loving him back. It just seemed impossible. Moments ago she was screaming at him for killing the man she was seeing (”fucking around with”), and now she was telling him that he had broken her heart by telling her he intended on marrying Lizzie. It just seemed too good to be true.

“Can you let me go?” she asked, her voice small. “I don’t think I can be here with you anymore, Tommy.”

He didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. It was an impulsive decision. He couldn’t let her leave like this.

When she pulled away, he let her. He let go of her, even though it risked her running off. He wouldn’t force her to stay there if she didn’t want to, but he couldn’t let her leave thinking that she had no chance of being with him.

But she didn’t leave. Instead, all she said was, “Lizzie...”

“I can work something out with Lizzie,” he said. “Maybe not marriage, but something. It’s my child she’s carrying, she’s got personal connections to the Peaky Blinders. Even if I don’t marry her, I can still make sure she is protected and respected.”

“But you just said - ”

“(Y/N),” he cut her off. “If you want me, then you will have me. There will be no one else. All you have to do is say the word, and it’ll just be you.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “Of course, Tommy.”

Tommy wasted no time in taking (Y/N) into his arms and kissing her again. This time, she leaned into him. She let him envelope her in his embrace and hold her completely to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close.

“I’m still a little mad at you for making me believe you shot Alfie,” she mumbled against his lips.

Tommy chuckled. “It’s part of the job, love. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“As long as you’re no the one getting shot in the face, then I think I can be okay with it.”

He kissed her again. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

[fiapartridge]

wish you were sober | nico hischier 💌🤍🥂

"pulling me close, begging me to stay over / but i'm over this rollercoaster" - conan gray, wish you were sober

nico hischer x reader

summary: nico only loves you when he can't remember it

warning(s): drinking, pushy a little? but not that bad

wc: 3.5k

fia's notes 💌: hiii i havent written a fic in so long lol so sorry if this sucks lmfao but i go back to school tomorrow so just wanted to put something out before i leave <3

THE BASE OF the music thrummed through the house like a heartbeat, loud and relentless. It was as if it was mirroring your own. The party was packed to the brim—bodies pressed together and drinks spilling as people shouted over the noise. Had half the party not been famous hockey players, the police would have had this place shut down within the first 30 minutes. 

You lingered in the kitchen, your cup held loosely to your lips as you scanned the crowd. You sat atop the cold marble countertop, knowing exactly who you were looking for—though you told yourself you weren’t. It wasn’t your fault, though. It was like your eyes were just attracted to him. Like you could sense him from a mile away without even seeing him. He was that intoxicating. 

And there he was. Right in the middle of the room. 

Nico.

He was surrounded by his teammates, his head thrown back in laughter as he listened to some joke Jack had said. He had this effortless way of commanding attention, of making people want to be around him. Maybe it was his everpresent smile, or the way he pushed back his soft brunette hair every couple minutes, or the way he towered over anyone in his presence, like he was protecting them. Nico was always the protector. Maybe that was what drew you to him the most. 

But that was also the worst thing about him, because who was there to protect you from him?

You tried to tear your gaze away, but it was impossible. You were caught in his orbit, just like always. 

As if sensing your eyes on him, Nico turned, his dark gaze locking on yours. His lazy, drunken smirk molded upon seeing you—his best friend. You knew how this would end. Save the heartbreak—and leave. But before you could get the chance to slip away, he was making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determination that made your stomach twist.

Nico wasn’t a bad person. He never hurt you, or blatantly tried to make you feel bad. He was honestly the nicest guy on the team when he wasn’t making fun of your skating, or the way you try to pronounce certain German words. He was your best friend. The one guy in the whole world who you would trust with your life. But tonight, and other nights just like these, you weren’t sure who he was.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice bright with excitement as he reached you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

You looked down towards the pulsating floorboards, turning away from his gaze. This happened—a lot. He’s your best friend one night—coming over to your apartment just so you two could watch funny TikToks at 2AM, critiquing your Tinder profile (“Your favorite dog breed is a golden retriever? That is so basic. We’re coming up with something better than that.”), and pushing you in shopping carts as you run away from angry employees—and other nights, he was like this. He was “in love” with you.

“You’re drunk, Nico,” you muttered, your heart stuttering in your chest.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want this. You’ve been wanting this since the moment you started working for the Devils and saw him walk down the tunnel in his full gear. He gave you a smile, gave you a rundown on every single player on the team—who to avoid (dating-wise), who to keep your camera on, and who gave the best answers— and wished you luck. A year later and you’re still waiting on him. It felt pathetic at this point, but every party gives you a little spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same.

“And you’re insanely gorgeous,” he countered, his grin fading into something softer but more dangerous. His hand slid to the counter beside you, nestling himself in the spot between your legs. He leaned in so close, you could feel the heat radiating off him. The move wasn’t casual—it was intentional, like he wanted to make sure you couldn’t look anywhere but him. He knew he was etched on every single fold of your brain. He knew you were his.

Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes searched yours, dark and glassy from the alcohol but holding something deeper, something that made your heart twist. It was something you’ve felt time and time before. Something out of reach, something fleeting, something unreal.

“Nico,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to inject some steadiness into it, “you’re drunk. You don’t mean that.” You never mean it.

“Don’t I, though?” he challenged. His free hand hovered near your waist, hesitating, before brushing against the fabric of your dress, sending a shiver up your spine. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You should’ve walked away, should’ve pushed him back and created distance between the two of you, but you were frozen in place, unable to move—unable to do anything. Nico Hischier, your best friend, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room, like you were something worth chasing.

And it wasn’t the first time—but it still hurt like it was.

Two weeks ago it had been the same. A late night after one of his games, Nico’s arms slung lazily over your shoulders as you sat on your couch, giving in to him. You two had just came back from a bar Mercer had coaxed you all into hitting up after the game. Nico was drunk, warm, and inviting. He’d leaned in closer than usual, his voice low as he told you how much he appreciated you, how you made everything easier, how he didn’t know what he would do without you. 

He’d kissed you that night. Just once, soft and fleeting, but enough to leave you staring at the ceiling long after he’d passed out on your couch. 

The next morning, he’d woken up with a groan, running a hand through his messy hair and complaining about his hangover. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” he’d said casually, like nothing happened, like your lips hadn’t still been burning from his the night before.

You had waited, hoping—praying—he’d bring it up. Hoping he’d say something. Anything.

But he hadn’t. And you hadn’t dared to either. 

Then there was last summer. Jesper Bratt’s birthday party. Nico had been drunk, but not sloppy—just enough to let his walls come down.

“You’re it for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours as you sat on the back porch, ignoring the sounds of shouting and laughter from inside. “No one even comes close.”

You’d let yourself believe him, let yourself imagine for one stupid, passing moment that he meant it. 

But the next day, when you’d texted him, he responded with nothing more than a meme and a casual, “What time are you coming to the rink?”

No acknowledgement. No follow-up. Just the same old Nico, acting like your heart wasn’t caught somewhere between confusion and disappointment. 

And then there was the time he had pulled you onto his lap at a party. His hands rested on your thighs, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured sweet nothings, the kind of thing that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

“You’re everything, Y/N,” he’d whispered. He kissed you, allowed his arms to roam around your body, for his eyes to trail over every part of you that made you insecure. Maybe that was part of the rouse. He had pressed his lips, branded every single surface of your body, had seen all the parts of you that you absolutely hated, and somehow convinced you that they were beautiful.

But the next morning, just like all the times before, he’d acted like it hadn’t happened.

“Did you see that dog I sent you on Instagram? Gotta update that Tinder answer—that is your new favorite breed,” he’d said, flashing you that charming grin as you two sat in a diner for breakfast, like you hadn’t spent half the night replaying the way he’d held you—like maybe he actually meant it this time.

Your chest had tightened, you forced a smile and nodded, choking down your disappointment like it was something that you could just swallow and forget—but you never did, and you probably never will.

You swallowed thickly, staring at the boy in front of you. His dark, glassy eyes held yours as if searching for something—some unspoken permission, some proof that this wasn’t just a one-sided game he liked to play when the alcohol made him bold.

But you knew better by now. Didn’t you? You’d spent too many nights like this, caught between the boy who claimed you were his everything one night and the one who pretended none of it mattered the next morning.

But still, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat when he leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His lips finding the soft skin of your neck, placing delicate kisses in the places he knew drove you crazy.

"Nico," you whispered, the word trembling in the air between you. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You shouldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. "Come home with me tonight."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn the world stopped spinning. The music faded, the room blurred, and all that existed was him—his soft brown eyes, his messy hair, the faint scent of cologne mixed with alcohol.

You wanted to say no. God, you wanted to say no. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him here, made it impossible. He always did this—always made you feel like you were the center of his universe for one fleeting moment before tearing it all away the next morning.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because you were simply weak, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Not when he looked at you like this.

"Okay," you said softly, hating yourself for how easily the word slipped out.

Nico grinned, a lopsided, boyish smile that made your stomach flip despite the ache in your chest. His hand wrapped around yours, pulling you off the counter and guiding you through the crowd with an urgency that felt all too familiar. The buzz of the party seemed to drown out, replaced by the rapid beat of your heart, the quickening of your breath.

When you reached the door, Nico was already pulling out his phone, ordering the Uber without a second thought. You didn’t stop him. Maybe part of you was still caught in the warmth of his hand in yours, or maybe you were just too tired to argue.

Once the Uber arrived, the two of you slid into the backseat, his arms already encircling you as your head laid on his slow-rising chest. The peacefulness of it all made you feel both content and terrified at the same time. How was he so good at this? At making you believe that he wanted you? How was he so steady and still, knowing that he was shaking up your entire life with this moment alone.

He felt safe, and warm, and inviting. And you hated that because you knew it was wrong. This whole thing was wrong. So why couldn’t you let go?

He planted flowery kisses to the crown of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His entire body was so close, you could feel the heat and the tension radiating from him. This moment—it felt like everything and nothing at the same exact time. 

"You’re so beautiful," Nico murmured against your hair, his voice rough but sincere. "Every time I look at you, I just... I don’t know how to explain it. You’ve got this way about you that drives me crazy. You’re everything."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the knots of confusion twisting in your stomach. It felt too good, and that scared you more than anything. His kisses continued, delicate and tender, each one making your heart race in a way that both calmed and terrified you.

You knew this wasn’t real; that he had done this countless times before, but was it so bad to believe it was—just for tonight?

You allowed for your eyes to close, for your body to rest and mold against him, for him to take you completely..He shifted slightly, his fingers running through your hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “You’re always like this,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection. “You just always make everything feel... easier, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but notice the softness in his tone, the way he seemed to genuinely mean it, even though you both knew this wasn’t it—not really.

The car hummed quietly around you as he leaned his cheek against your head, his breath warm on your skin. It was easy to let yourself get lost in the moment, his presence so familiar, so comforting. But then his voice broke the silence again, the words so casual they almost seemed like an afterthought.

“I always remember you, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air, soft but heavy, and it hit you like a tidal wave. Your breath caught, your chest tightening so suddenly it felt like you’d been punched. You glanced at him for half a second, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed out the window, a faint smile still playing on his lips, like he hadn’t just shattered you with a few careless words.

You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift in your thoughts. The feeling of his arms around you didn’t feel the same anymore. His closeness had always been a comfort, but now it felt like a reminder of everything you were trying to avoid.

He didn’t even realize what he’d just done, how his lighthearted, offhand comment had sent you spiraling. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything. His hand continued to lightly trace circles on your arm, his presence close, but something about it now—it felt toxic, like the entire thing, all that you two had built in the last few minutes had just blown up on you. 

Because he wasn’t just talking about tonight, not just the alcohol clouding his thoughts. No, he’d remembered you all along. Even when it felt like he hadn’t been there, like it was just something that happened when he was caught up in the moment, he always remembered.

But he pretended like he didn’t.

Before you could say anything, the Uber pulled up to his apartment, and you both got out of the car, the night air doing little to settle the emotions swirling between you.

Nico smiled softly, his hand brushing yours, pulling you into the building. He looked at you like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t just dropped a truth bomb on your heart. 

When you arrived, he held the door open for you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he led you inside, his hand lingering on your lower back as he guided you past the threshold. The apartment was familiar, but it felt different tonight—distant, colder, almost suffocating. Nico wasn’t just a boy in front of you anymore; he was a reminder of everything you couldn’t quite make sense of.

Once you were in, he closed the door behind you with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, his eyes still on you, his chest rising and falling with a deep, steady breath, as though he was waiting for something.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. But just like everything Nico did, he pushed forward like he didn’t even have to try, like he never did anything for the first time. He just always knew. 

And before you knew it, his hands were on your waist, hungrily exploring your body like he had never traversed around it before. His lips pressed gently against yours, like he was giving you time to back out, to tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted. He was testing the waters with you. And you knew you shouldn’t be here; that you should’ve taken that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not yet.

He backed you up against the couch, the soft, plush arms hitting the back of your thighs as he groaned softly into your mouth. His hands slid under your dress, the heat of his palms on your skin making your breath hitch, his kisses growing more urgent as if he was trying to steal something from you. You could feel the tension building between you, his desire so palpable, so intense, that it was almost suffocating.

You could feel it, too—your own heart pounding, your body responding despite the part of you that was screaming to stop. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. You did. Maybe too much. But this wasn’t right. Not like this.

He kissed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “Y/N…” His hands found their way to your back, slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them. "Come on, just let go tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and pleading. "Tell me you want this."

The weight of the situation settled over you, and suddenly everything felt wrong—too fast, too much. You pulled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. His eyes were dark, clouded with desire, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you needed.

“I can’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling, but firm. “I don’t want this.”

The words hit him like a switch. As soon as you said them, Nico froze.. His hands, still hovering near the straps of your dress, stilled. His lips parted, but no words came. His hands dropped to his sides, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to steady himself, like he was struggling to understand. You could almost hear the shift in his thoughts—the reality sinking in as the alcohol seemingly cleared from his system in an instant.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, the words low, raw, and full of regret. He reached for you as if to stop you from leaving, but then he hesitated, pulling his hand back like you might vanish if he touched you. "God, Y/N, I didn't—"

“You didn’t do anything,” you murmured, placing your hand on his wrist. “It’s me.” Before he could protest, you were already looking into his eyes with something he’s never seen from you before. Remorse? Sadness? Regret? “I like you more than you will ever like me. I just wish…you wanted me when you were sober," you whispered like you had just revealed your entire hand.

And in the scope of it all, you had. You were completely bare.

There was a long silence, his lips parted as though he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stood there, his hands hanging at his sides as if the life had drained out of him. And you knew he wasn’t seeing you, not really. He was seeing someone else—the girl he could keep at arm’s length, the girl who would give him what he wanted when it was easy, when he was too drunk to remember what it really meant.

You didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

“I’m leaving,” you said quietly, already stepping toward the door. Nico didn’t try to stop you this time. Instead, he watched, his eyes following you as you reached for the handle.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you could almost hear his sincerity, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol wearing off or the realization that he had truly pushed you too far. But that didn’t matter anymore.

You opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, the weight in your chest only growing heavier as you walked away. You knew leaving was the right choice—no matter how much it hurt. It was time to stop pretending, to stop chasing something that wasn’t meant for you.

By the time you were back home, the tears were spilling over, and his words were echoing in your head. You leaned against the wall, your body crumpling into a pile on the floor of your kitchen. You had made the right choice—leaving before it went too far, before you let him make you feel like you were disposable again. But that damn line, "I always remember you"—it haunted you. Lighthearted. Careless. Yet somehow, it felt like the cruelest thing he’d ever said. 

After a while, you stood up, wiped your tears, slid off your dress, sat in bed, and hoped that one day, Nico would wish he’d been sober too.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 12

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, Reader gets drunk, mention of self-harm (wanting to bite thumb. Again.), thinking of self-harm (Reader wants to make herself pass out by smashing her head against something), probably near panic attack, one (1) tiny undescriptive vomit scene, kind of implied death threat/threat(s) in general (?),  slight obsessive and possessive themes, overall slight yandere themes near the end, toxic relationship/marriage, underage drinking (only a sip but still), Lant being the POS he always have been. Please tell me if I missed any.

Not exactly NSFW warnings: encouraging implied non-con

NOTE: if he’s completely out of character, just pretend Dion’s sleep deprivation is finally catching up to him.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICW, ART, ETC.) DNI

= = =  

The walk to the dining room feels like a death march. Every step makes your legs grow weaker, knees throbbing harder. The echo of your heels sets your nerves on fire, imagining it getting louder and louder as you run away, until you reach the front doors. But, of course, you would only get lost in this maze-like structure. And if you somehow manage to reach the front door, you would be killed on sight.

That much is obvious. 

The truth of the fact only makes you crave to bite your thumb. Almost giving in until you see Hana shake her head no once she notices.

You wish you were back in the room with Anne and Charis. To hear them gush over ‘girly’ things while Hana scolds them for not doing their job. 

You wish you were home. 

Your mouth is shut tight, shoulders stiff as your head hangs low. Like you were being led to your own execution, Lant giving the order as Dion carried it out. You wouldn’t be surprised if that were to happen, someday. Sooner rather than later.

The black lace at the hem of your dress covers your shoes, barely grazing the floor. The cold air nips at your exposed skin. Your bun is starting to feel a little too tight, pulling at your scalp despite Hana being extremely careful with it. The neck piece has been choking you, but now it’s suffocating. 

You feel light headed. 

You’re on the verge of panting, flight-or-fight response knocking on the door of your sanity. Legs stiff, begging you to stay in place before your heart gives out from the stress, you continue on despite the way your head starts to feel dizzy. No, you think, no.

If you faint, it’s all over. If you faint, Dion may become brasher with his advances on making you as crazy as he is. If you faint, Lant might decide you’re not worth the trouble and give you to someone as a toy. 

Or hand you back to your parents in a bodybag. 

“-Lady? My Lady?” 

“Huh? Wh-what?” Owlishly blinking, your thoughts are driven away at the sound of Hana’s ‘concerned’ voice - you look ahead of you. A single door.* Wait.

No. 

This - this -

“This isn’t the dining room, is it, Hana?” It comes out more as a statement rather than a question, voice low as your entire body becomes rigid. This looks more like a personal room. Important.

“...yes, my Lady. It’s where they hold the grand feast.” You think there’s slight guilt in her voice, and the thought does little to ease your nerves. Well, you think, it’s not like she told you you were going to the dining room. Your idiotic self just assumed so. And perhaps, out of pity, Hana didn’t tell you, giving you the illusion of being in an open space and not in a closed off room.

…yeah, God really does hate me. 

Then you remember that you shouldn't know what the grand feast was - thus, you ask her about it a moment later. 

“It takes place once a month. Each month, the siblings are evaluated based on their accomplishments for the month - there are three top spots. Whoever does the best are evaluated highly, making them the most useful to the Agriche family.”

The most useful to Lant.

She continues, “young master Dion is always at first place, Lady Roxana second, and the third place tends to be a different sibling every other month. I heard a rumor that young Master Fontaine may be at third spot this month.” Once she’s done giving you information about it, you nod your head, hiding the fact you already knew that with a small gulp.

If anyone were to find out you did, your head may roll off your shoulders. After they question you, of course. Torture you too.

“I see. Interesting. I didn’t expect any less from those two,” you lifelessly chuckle out, ignoring the odd look Hana gives you. She doesn’t question you, instead knocking on the door before opening it after Lant gave permission loud enough to be heard from the other side. You can hear the pulsation of both your blood and heart in your ears. It almost drowns out all other noises. 

Lant is the first one to make eye contact with you. They remind you of a snake, already squeezing you alive as his presence wraps itself around your body, restricting movement and threatening to choke you. You can barely breathe, lungs working overtime just to take in oxygen.

You feel faint. 

“Congratulations on joining the Agrich family,” your twisted father-in-law begins as he stands in front of the window, “I heard you’re adapting rather quickly. An accomplishment, all things considered.” His grin spells egotistical as his hands remain in his pockets. 

Go kill yourself.

Too much of a coward to say your true thoughts, you give a wavering smile. Keep your head upright. Straighten your back. Feed into his ego. 

“Thank you, father-in-law,” you bow, wanting to smash your head against the floor so hard you’ll pass out. “It’s truly an honor to be here - both as your daughter-in-law and as Dion’s wife.” When you lift your head your smile becomes pretty, just as you practiced. But the corners of your lips threaten to fall into a frown. It becomes more painful as the seconds pass. 

This alone reminds you that you are not Roxana. Cunning and manipulative - none of which describe you. You’re nothing more than a rabbit about to be torn into by a hungry pack of wolves. 

Your skin crawls when he smiles.

“And you already know your place - I knew I made a good choice in choosing you.” His smugness only adds fuel to your fear along with finding the idiotic fool even more detestable. However, Lant is the one in power here, not you. You have to play under and by his rules. 

Even if it means bearing a child you might not be able to love. 

Freezing fear starts to collide with heated hatred the longer he fuels his self-conceit, marveling over his ‘brilliant’ idea. Yet when he smiles at you again, eyeing you, gaze scanning your entire body, it makes your hairs stand on edge. Thankfully, there is no lust in those eyes - rather, pending judgement. 

He nods his head in approval as your husband keeps his attention on his father. Quickly glancing over at him in his seat, you notice that his eyes don’t hold indifference as they did in the manhwa - no, rather, it was -

“Come sit down; our introduction as true in-laws is long overdue.” At his command you take a seat across from Dion as Lant sits at the end of the table near the window. Any thoughts about Dion are driven away as Lant continues to talk. 

His voice makes your head hurt and your ears bleed. 

“You were one out of three girls I had my sights on. The first one was too haughty and the second wasn’t even allowed to attend public events more often than not - it was hard to gather any information on her.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip. 

Three girls…? I didn’t know about this… wait, why is he even telling me this -

Oh. 

He’s saying I’m replaceable. 

The realization hits you like a truck, leaving you a mental mess as you keep - attempt to - appearance. Your hands shake almost violently in their place under the table and on your lap. Sweat starts to pool on the back of your neck as you pat your temples down with a napkin the second the death flag turns his attention to Dion, your husband staring right back - after he takes a glance at you, and you shudder at the look he gives.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking and you’re not sure if you want to. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

And it’s that same ignorance that prevents you from seeing how those scarlet eyes soften ever so slightly, unaware of how beautiful he finds you. Well, even if you did, you would just say it’s part of your imagination. 

The idea of someone like Dion harboring any romantic feelings towards anyone - yourself included - nearly makes you sick to your stomach. So, therefore, your truth must be the right one.

Dion switches his attention to his father when he asks him a question.

“So, son? How well is her training going?” The bastard really did see you as nothing other than a pet. The metaphorical leash around your neck tightens. You can basically feel Lant tugging at it. 

You wait with baited breath for your husband’s answer - you weren’t exactly… ‘obedient.’ Avoiding him, refusing and rejecting his advances that took place on the second day, ‘talked back’ during the thumb incident, pretending to be asleep the second you heard and felt the bed creak when he woke up. Unable to act like the ‘perfect wife,’ shivering in fear even when he’s not doing anything, just laying with his back towards you on your shared bed. 

Wait, he’s a sadist, you tell yourself. But he’s also a perverted creep. Wanting to touch you despite knowing your dislike for it and -

“She wouldn’t be here if you didn’t approve of her,” is his answer as he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t even bother to make eye contact with him while answering. “She would be dead.” 

Your mind shatters as your heart drops. You’re forced to bite your lip just so you wouldn’t become hysterical with tears. You already expected this interaction to flow in a similar direction.

Even so, it doesn’t stop your anxiety.

So, he really was only keeping you to study how a sane mind breaks. Little by little, he’ll observe you until the day you either become like them or kill yourself. And then what?

The answer is unknown to you. But did they already have it?

Of course they do.

They’re Agriches.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Lant raises an eyebrow only for his face to draw into a disgusting grin. “That’s an interesting answer. But yes, you’re right; the girl wouldn’t be breathing right now if she disappointed me.” They’re talking as though you were not in the same room as them.

No-one has touched their food, only the wine that was already served. You take a sip yourself, holding back the grimace from the bitterness. They don’t notice, lost in their own little world. But the topic - you - doesn’t change. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to wed you off - but I’m glad I did now. The younger the better, right?” Chuckling out the last part, your father-in-law leans over to pat your husband’s shoulder and you swore that he twitched just a bit.

The stress must be making you see things. 

Another sip as you slowly start to mentally check out. If you don’t you really will lose your mind and sanity. After considering it, you start to poke at your food before cutting into the steak and taking a bite. Juicy and delicious, the flavor only reminds you of just how rich this family is - how easy it was for them to handcuff you with a shiny little pretty ring.

Neither you nor your husband wear the damn thing, the cursed item still in the deep blue box in some drawer. The memory of it makes you take another bite, hoping that you’ll be distracted by the delicious meal. 

The pieces threaten to choke you as they slide down your throat, taking another swing of the bitter, red wine to wash it down. You don’t even notice that Dion was starting to eat as well, leaving Lant the only one who wasn’t. 

Drinking some more wine to overthrow the sour taste of vomit as you throw up in your mouth, quickly swallowing it down before it threatens to overflow and drip down your chin. Holding back the gag reflex caused by the repulsive taste, a buzz is starting to fill your head. It’s barely there, faint in the background, your hand wrapping around the stem, swishing the liquid around, studying the color through the transparent glass.

A rich red.

The wine you drank on your eighteenth birthday was sweeter than this. You also didn’t drink much of it, preferring the tea your father gifted you. The memory of placing it on the table, only for Zac to taste the alcoholic drink only for you to scold you as soon as noticed it surfacing. 

The memory contracts the current situation so vastly. It only reminds you of how fucked you are, toes curling in your heels. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

Blinking, you continue on your journey to finish the drink, keeping your mouth busy before you start to beg and beg and beg for the two men to release you peacefully. 

Suddenly remembering there was a plate of flavorful food in front of you, you resume eating it.

Your fork and knife clink against the plate, sound echoing in your ears as the two male voices drown out in the background. Stabbing the steak with your fork, you fail to notice your husband taking a quick glance at you only for his eyes to land on his father when he addresses him. 

Another sip of wine. 

Another bite of meat.

The more you eat the more you drink. 

The buzz in your head is only starting to get stronger, accepting a refill a servant offers. While he pours it, the voices of Dion and Lant starts to become distant, their figures slightly blurry but not by much. Lant doesn’t look your away the entire time, praising his son about a mission he completed not too long ago. Since when did the topic change?

It’s becoming harder not to down the drink, vaguely aware of the confused and concerned look from the servant. However, he doesn’t deny you a second refill much less than a third, keeping an eye on your behavior, worried you’ll act out of line. It wasn’t for your safety but rather his - there’s no telling if your father-in-law would blame him for your drunk behavior. And yet, despite knowing this, the worried man still doesn’t deny you the drink that’s only making the buzz get stronger, cheeks feeling hot and a feeling of relaxation you oh so needed. 

It’s a miracle you’re able to lift your fork effortlessly and not choke on your meal. 

Their conversation is one-sided, with Lant doing all the talking as Dion listens. Quickly, your eye flicks upwards and across from you, curiosity biting at your fuzzy mind. It’s almost becoming a need to see your husband’s stoic face, slight amusement at the thought of him not caring and maybe even resentful towards and for his father.

Only to be met with scarlet.

How pretty.

Your head tilts, pondering why you’re so interesting to him - always catching his attention these days. Yet before being wed to him, you were nothing more than a plain and common flower in the garden; there, playing your role but unnoticeable. Only noticed once in a while when he had to turn his head. 

The more you think about it, the more you question it -was it really only to study how your sanity dwindles?

He confuses you.

He scares you.

He annoys you. 

Every emotion he stirs from within you is never positive. You wonder just how aware he is of that fact. If he enjoyed it, even. 

You blink once. Twice. A third time brings out a small smile - the alcohol has finally run its course, your judgment impaired, nothing but confusement and pity forming for the horrible man. 

Does he know you’re planning on asking Roxana for help to divorce him? To escape from this torturous place and start a new life, not wanting to drag your family further into this mess?

Does he know his ‘kindness’ is only driving you away? That you’re so sure he’s only keeping you around willingly to see how you bend and break?

Does he know your ‘affection’ will never be earned if some small part of him is also hoping for that?

The longer you smile the more his eyes widen, surprised you were able to show him a genuine one. However, neither of you keep it up for long, quickly returning to your practice and his default expressions. Lant doesn’t notice this, too busy commanding the servant for a light once everyone is done eating. 

The older man puffs it before talking once more. The room starts to smell like heavy smoke. Thanks to your drunkenness it doesn’t bother you as much.

“But yes, that’s what I’m planning. Not anytime soon but in a few months. I expect you to help prepare the preparations before taking care of the vermin once everything is said and done.” His cocky demeanor is gone, serious as he talks about…

Actually, what is he talking about?

Does it involve you? If not, why bother having you here with him? To use it as a scare tactic? If so, it’s not like he needed one - you’re already terrified of them as is. 

Feeling eyes on you you turn your head, making eye contact with Lant. taking in your appearance, he grins, turning to Dion next. You don’t understand what he means with his next words directed at your husband.

“Girls like her are easier when drunk. It’s best to get busy with her already - to get her used to it. We’ll put her on contraceptives for now until it’s time.” Your drunken state entertains him and you’re not sure why. 

However, your (e/c) eyes travel to Dion, curious as to why his grip on his fork tightens just the slightest bit. Eyes only narrowing for a split second, a faint scowl across his handsome features. It quickly goes away before Lant notices, the man chuckling at his own ‘advice.’ 

Oh well, you think. Your glass is almost empty, accepting your last refill for the night. The bitterness doesn’t go away. You only got used to it.

Will it be the same for you towards your husband? 

“While it’s amusing to see her get drunk, it’s time to cut her off.” Lant gestures to the servant to put the bottles of wine away after getting his own refill. The dinner is about to come to an end, it seems. 

At the ring of a bell two maids come in, cleaning up. You take one last swing before they take away the glass from your loose grip. Head softly rocking back and forth, the buzz and warmth of your person starts to make your eyes feel heavy. 

When was the last time you got drunk? Probably in your previous life, right before -

“Let’s call it a day.” Both daughter-in-law and son look at the oldest with the highest authority in the room. Facial muscles relaxing, one could almost confuse him for a normal man. 

“You’re both dismissed.”

- - -

You can barely walk on your own two feet. Supporting yourself on Dion’s arm, your own looped with his, your vision slightly blurry. Had you been fully aware of your surroundings, you would have noticed the small shudders he would give each and every time your head leans into his arm. 

Meanwhile, your husband is having a dilemma. He should carry you. You would weigh nothing to him, and it would be faster. Maybe too fast. 

Dion has no intention of sleeping with you in your state, the thought distasteful. But the suggestion from Lant was only to be expected, his morals worse than the majority of the family’s. It wasn’t a surprise but it doesn’t make it any less worse.

Annoyed doesn’t even begin to describe his feelings towards it. His face has been looking rather punchable lately and -

His thoughts are disrupted as you trip on your own feet, and had you not been holding onto him, your face would have kissed the floor. After a blink you look up at him and drunkenly giggle. You reek of alcohol.

In spite of that, he can’t help but to find you cute - his eye twitches. He wasn’t raised this way. He didn’t desire much if anything, going along with the flow. Even after seeing Roxana cry for the first and only time, the void that is him never truly got filled. 

He’s a horrible person. He knows that much, hands stained red and sins etched into his bones, hell already reserving a spot for him. The day he dies will be the day he’ll willingly walk into the fiery pits of hell, expecting to see the rest of his family there. 

He’s startled when you nuzzle your head into his arm, looking up at him with such dreamy eyes. But there’s also a hint of something close to resentment, not fully clear as it’s also mixed with something else he can’t put his finger on.  

Like you know him. 

But it’s not as clear as his own gaze, it’s not as certain whenever he gives into temptation and looks at you. You sigh out his name, breathless but oh so familiar, like you’ve known him for years and not months. 

Then, it hits him - you know little bits and pieces about him, but not enough to see the full picture. Aware that something is off despite only meeting him a handful of times. 

That night where your guard was down was already pointing in that direction, but now it’s confirmed. There is no fear inside him at the realization, but rather he grins - how long until you come to accept and acknowledge his feelings? 

Or rather, will you be capable of that? To accept everything that is him - the sins, the crimes, the blood and sadistic tendencies that are unremovable from him. 

He finally decides to pick you up when you start to doze off, your head fuzzy and judgement impaired. Maybe he’ll keep this part of the night a secret - it would only serve to drive you away further. Dion thinks about taking a bite when you snuggle into his chest, yawning as you do so. 

But then your eyes open again, looking up at him as you say -

“You’re horrible.”

He’s a horrible husband. For finding your words amusing despite how honestly you say them. He can’t tell if he’s smirking or giving a rather ugly grin, all things considered. Obsession and possessiveness are both dangerous things. Combine the two together and add him to mix, it only makes Dion Agriche all the more detestable. 

Even more so when his grip on you tightens, unrelenting, not giving you any room to wiggle out of his grasp, the one and only time he’s able to hold you so close without his lovely wife overthinking his every action. Not that you do, sighing as your eyes flutter close, sleep finally taking over. You look so pretty in his arms and the urge to hide you away gets stronger. And had you opened those pretty eyes to look at your husband, you wouldn’t be able to deny that he’s absolutely obsessed and he’d rather die than let you go, scarlet eyes unblinking as he admires you. 

And perhaps that was for the best, the twenty-year-old male knowing it would only scare you off more. 

“That doesn’t and won’t change things, wife.”

Even so, it’s hard to ignore the small sting of your honesty.

===

Note: *in the manhwa  it looks like it’s just one door in chapter 4 when Roxana and Jeremy go to attend the great feast or whatever. I also don't know if it's his office or not.

tags: @tiny-mimi

[fanficwritinggirl]

Would you fall in love with me again (Draco Malfoy)

This is inspired by the song 'would you fall in love with me again' from Epic. As the chapter goes on it is heavily influenced by the lyrics of the song so credit goes to the writers. 

Love is a painful and awful thing. Its what you tell yourself all the time, maybe it is just something you repeated as a way to make the pain in your chest hurt less but it never did. The longing for the one person you want most in the world and not being able to reach them is the most painful thing. You question whether it would be easier if he were dead. Would you have been able to go on and live your life, maybe not in the way that you thought that it would be but still you would be able to move on but yet here are you, someone who spends their entire days wishing for sleep to come so that you can be with him in your dreams, it's the closest that you have been able to be with him in years. And everyday it brings you some kind of peace as you wait for them to let him out, back to you.

BANG, BANG, BANG, you shoot up out of bed, your heart racing, adrenaline pumping as your senses kick into overdrive. Shoving the covers off of yourself, you grab your wand from your bedside table and move carefully over to the window and moving the curtain so that you can look down at your front door. A black-haired man stood at your door, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Groaning, you grab your nightgown before trudging down the stairs and towards the door. Pulling the door open you are met with the sight of your brother.

"Harry, why the bloody hell are you here at this hour, shouldn't you be at home with your wife?" you snap at him, but he doesn't pass any attention to you as he pushes past you and into your house. "Okay, I know that I am your sister, but don't you dare push yourself into my house Harry or I swear to..." he cuts you off as he turns.

"He's getting out," you feel like all the oxygen in your lungs have been taken from you with that statement, you could barley speak. Harrys eyes are filled with concern as he looks at you.

"Y/N," your eyes don't meet his as you feel the tears swelling in your eyes. You falter causing Harry to shoot forward holding onto your forearms. "Let's get you sat down okay," he guides you both through the archway and into the sitting room and towards the couch. You sit on the couch, your eyes not looking up, fixated on the carpet.

"I'm going to get you a cup of tea," Harry tells you softly, giving your arm a rub before walking into the kitchen. You sit there in a daze for a few minutes, not breaking once even with Harry being loud in the kitchen. Your eyes trail down to your hands, you rub your finger over your wedding ring, a ring that has never been taken off, not since he placed it there all those years ago.

Harry walks over to you, a piping hot cup of tea in his hand. "Here, drink this," he sets it down on the coffee table in front of you, not trusting your shaky hands. Sitting down, neither of you speak for a few moments, not knowing how to start.

"How?" your voice was a whisper. Harry rubs a hand over his jaw.

"I don't know exactly... you know what the ministry are like, but it doesn't matter..." you scoff at that, your head shaking.

"It does matter Harry. It all good letting him out but are they letting him out as a criminal who has served his sentence or are they admitting that he was wrongfully imprisoned for something that he couldn't control. He had to comply with you know who or he would have been killed," you chock on your words, emotions bleeding out of you. "And by putting in him there... its worse than death. They might as well have killed him," a tear runs down your face causing you to raise a hand and whip it away, your hand moving forward and taking the mug into your hand, letting the warmth run through your body.

Harry keeps his gaze fixed on the window away from you. He couldn't look at you knowing how much pain has been caused with Draco being kept in Azkaban, how you have not lived for the last 7 years waiting for him to come home.

"Tomorrow," is all he is able to say to you and all you can do is nod. Tomorrow your prayers would be answered.

Your hands were shaking, you couldn't keep still, you were running a whole into the floor of the hallway as your paced back and forth. The black tiles and the black and white checkered floor became sore on the eyes with the illuminating lights. How long had you been out here for? A few minutes? A few hours? Heck if you knew. It sure felt like forever.

"Y/N," you stop, your gaze meeting Ginny's.

"How much longer?" Ginny sighs, her shoulder lifting up in a shrug.

"I know just as much as you," you huff, shaking your head.

"I don't understand why they can't tell me. I'm his wife for crying out loud, I should be allowed to be there from the second he is out and declared a free man," you lean against the wall, your arms crossing as you lean your head back to rest on the smooth surface. Ginny offers you a small smile and comes to stand next to you.

"It might be for the best," she offers causing you to turn and look at her, your eyebrow raised. "He has just been kept in Azkaban for the last 7 years, which is going to mess anyone up in the head. The Draco you knew is not the one that is going to be the one coming back. It's going to be overwhelming for him, and maybe seeing Harry and Ron first might be better, seeing someone he recognizes but not someone who he is super close too," God why did she have to make so much sense. You close your eyes and sigh.

"It feels like a dream, that he is finally coming home," Ginny smiles at you, her hand coming to rest on your forearm.

"Not long now," and God you hoped she was right.

The door swings open, a few members from the ministry walk about, their facial expressions coy. Their gazes meet you; they nod their head towards you as they scurry past, too scared to hang around for to long.

"Mrs Malfoy," Kingsley Shacklebolt comes to stand in front of you, his expression saddened. "I must once again apologise for the pain that the ministry have caused both you and your husband," you scoff at this.

"Mr Shacklebolt, my husband has been wrongfully imprisoned for the past 7 years. 7 years in which we will never get back. I understand that we have been rebuilding since the war but for it to take 7 years... its unfathomable. My husband is never going to be the same because of you and your ministry's negligence," Shacklebolt's expression is nothing but regret.

"Mrs Malfoy, I'm sorry that there is nothing more than I can do but apologize, I wish there was," you scoff and shake your head.

"Take responsibility and make sure that it never happens again," the door opens again, and Ron pops his head out gives you a small nod.

"He wants to see you," you turn and look and Shackbolt, his expressions hasn't changed and with a shake of your head you march towards who is really important in this situation, and that is your husband.

You didn't know what to expect when you walked into the room. It was different from most of the rooms that you had been in when you had previously visited the ministry. You could actually say that the room was homely. Maybe it was couches, you could see the back of a three-seater couch and two chairs sat across from it. His back was the first thing that you saw, his platinum blonde hair you could see was long, an unkept version of his fathers. Harry sat in one of the seats across from Draco, his eyes drifting to you as you walk in. Harry offers a comforting smile before standing up and walking towards you and Ron who was still standing in the doorway, not daring to move. Harry comes to stand in front of you, an expression on his face that you couldn't read.

"Is he alright?" you whisper to him, and he offers you a comforting look.

"He is different. He is still getting used to be free, so we need to go easy on him," Harry gives your arm a squeeze before walking out with Ron, the door closing behind leaving you alone with Draco for the first time in years. It is silent for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to do. You take a step forward, causing his head to move slightly but not enough to actually see you.

"Y/N," you hear him whisper and you stop, losing your breath.

"Is it really you?" he turns full and it's the first time that you have laid your eyes on him, and it brings tears to your eyes. "You look tired," he wobbles a little as he stands, he grips the couch for support as he stands, and you are able to finally take him all in. His frame was lighter, his smile torn. "Is it really you, my love?" your voice was no more than a whisper. His eyebrows are pushes together; you can see his eyes getting teary.

"I'm not the man that you feel in love with, I'm not the man that you once fell in love with," you purse your lips together and nod.

"What happened?"

"Things that I don't wish for you to ever know. If you knew the things that I saw and had done to me, you would never be able to look at me the same way again. But I endured them all so that they would bring me back to you," your eyes meet, and you feel the burning in the back of your eyes. "Would you fall in love with me again? If you knew all of it. Things that I can't undo, I am not the man you knew, and I know that you have been waiting for him," his hand comes to rub over the beard that now decorated, and you can't help but see the dirty band that sits on his ring finger.

"If that's true, can you do me a favour. Would you look at that band on your finger," he holds his hand out and his gaze looks at.

"Would you take it off?" his eyes dart to you, his head instantly moving side to side in disapproval.

"How could you ask me that. We promised the day that we got married that we would never take them off. That from the moment we put them on that someone would have to cut them off to get them. The only way to take them off is to cut them off," a cry breaks from your chest.

"Only my husband would know that, so that means that makes him you," tears fall down your face as you realise that deep down that the Draco you married was still in there.

"Y/N," he moves closer to you, yearning for you.

"I will fall in love with you, over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, your mine. Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my husband and I've been waiting," he takes another step towards you.

"Y/N," step.

"Waiting."

"Y/N," another step.

"Waiting."

"Y/N," another step.

"Waiting, oh waiting," Draco stands in front of you, his hands cupping your face, his hands were rougher than you remember but they are his. Tears are streaming down both of your faces, sobs barrelling out of you. He brings his forehead to rest on yours, his hands slipping to fall on the back of your neck. Your hands rest on his back as you breath each other in.

"How many years has it been?" he asks you, forcing your emotions down you look at him.

"Seven years," a tear drops from his eye as he nods, accepting. "I love you," he whispers, and you gasp, he pulls your lips down on his and for the first time, you feel like you can breathe. With him here in your arms. Pulling back, you two look at each other now with a small smile on your faces.

"Let's go home," you say to him. You wanted to move on, you had lost seven years together, there was no point in losing anymore. 

[vaggieslefteye]

HAZBIN HOTEL (2024—): 1x02 - "Radio Killed The Video Star"

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[kateschi]

what goes unsaid

synopsis: you started to notice small things todoroki does, but you’re not sure what they mean just yet.

pairing: timeskip!todoroki shoto x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i listened to you guys

the buzz of the office fades into background noise as you shuffle through the latest batch of mission reports.

your shoulders ache from a particularly rough day in the field, and the stiffness in your neck only serves to remind you of the long hours stretching ahead.

you rub your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

“rough day?”

the voice pulls you from your thoughts, low and calm with a subtle edge of concern. shoto todoroki stands in the doorway to your shared agency’s common room, his presence as composed as ever.

his hero uniform is slightly scuffed, evidence of his own busy day. still, his mismatched eyes fix on you, quiet but observant.

“yeah, you could say that,” you reply with a weak smile, closing the folder in front of you. “I’ll be fine, though. just a few reports to finish up.”

without another word, todoroki crosses the room. he places a paper cup on the desk beside you, the warm aroma of your favorite coffee wafting up immediately. you blink, glancing between him and the cup.

“thought you could use this,” he says simply, his tone casual but laced with that understated sincerity that’s so distinctly him.

your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “thanks, todoroki. you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady as he turns to leave.

it’s not the first time he’s done something like this—little gestures that seem small on the surface but hold a surprising amount of thoughtfulness.

you’ve chalked it up to his polite nature, the way he’s always been one to notice when someone needs a hand.

but lately, those gestures seem to happen more often, and each time they do, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more behind them.

a few days later, the intensity of the work begins to weigh on you again. a gruelling mission left you feeling physically and emotionally drained, and your muscles protest every movement you make.

you collapse on the couch in the break room, still in your hero gear, too tired to even think about a shower.

todoroki walks in, fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he eyes you for a moment before disappearing into the adjacent kitchenette.

you don’t think much of it until he returns a few minutes later, setting a small ice pack on the table beside you.

“for your shoulder,” he says, nodding toward where you’d been absentmindedly massaging your arm.

you blink, caught off guard by the quiet care in the gesture. “oh, thanks. you didn’t—”

“you overextend that side sometimes,” he interrupts, his voice calm. “you should be careful.”

your mouth opens, but no words come out. instead, you nod, pressing the ice pack against your shoulder as he sits in the chair across from you. the silence that follows is surprisingly comfortable.

you can feel the weight of his gaze occasionally flicking over to you, but it’s not heavy or demanding—more like a quiet understanding, the kind that doesn’t require explanation.

there’s a certain ease between you two, even when neither of you says much.

it’s in the way todoroki always seems to anticipate what you need, how he quietly adjusts the environment around you without ever making a show of it. and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it feels…right.

the moments continue to add up, each one more subtle than the last.

after a long patrol, you find a bottle of water placed carefully on your desk with a note—drink up, you’ve been dehydrated all day.

it’s an obvious thing, but the gesture still feels personal, like he noticed something you hadn’t even considered.

the next day, you’re struggling to get through a particularly difficult set of paperwork when your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at the screen to see a message from him: how’s the report going? 

you smirk at the simplicity of it. he knew exactly what you were doing.

when you reply that you’re about to hit a wall, todoroki doesn’t respond immediately.

but later, when you make your way into the break room for a quick break, there’s a sandwich on the counter—your favorite kind, carefully wrapped in a napkin.

no note this time, just the quiet understanding that he had noticed, even from across the building.

it’s when you’re sitting on the rooftop of the agency a few weeks later that the weight of it all really hits you. the city sprawls out before you, the lights twinkling against the night sky.

you’re lost in your thoughts when the sound of footsteps pulls you back.

todoroki appears at your side, a familiar calmness in his expression. he doesn’t say anything right away, just leans against the railing beside you.

the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable, the kind that doesn’t demand to be filled. you’ve shared enough of these moments that you don’t feel the need to say anything.

“figured you’d be up here,” he says eventually, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.

you glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “needed a breather. what about you?”

“same,” he admits. “it’s been a long day.”

there’s something in his voice, a small shift, and for the first time, you realize just how much of an emotional weight he carries.

you’ve always known him to be calm, calculated, and collected, but there’s something more underneath, a pressure he doesn’t always show.

when he looks at you now, there’s something in his eyes—something softer, more open than usual.

“thanks for the coffee earlier,” you say, breaking the silence. “and…everything else. you don’t have to do all that, you know.”

he turns his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. “I know,” he says simply. “but I want to.”

his words hang in the air, quieter and more vulnerable than usual, and for the first time, you see the full weight of what he’s been doing all along.

these small gestures, these little acts of kindness, have been his way of showing something he’s never been able to put into words.

weeks pass, and despite everything happening around you—missions, deadlines, late-night training—there’s a steady rhythm to the way shoto treats you.

he’s never one to speak loudly about his emotions, but the small things he does start to stand out in a way that feels undeniable.

there are days when you catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression slightly more intense than usual.

he doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his eyes linger a little longer than they should, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

he’s quiet around you, often lost in his thoughts, but when he speaks, it’s always with a softness that’s impossible to ignore.

it’s as if every word he says carries the weight of more than just friendship—though, he’ll never admit it outright.

it’s late one evening when the two of you find yourselves standing side by side in the agency’s common room.

the glow of the lights is soft, the building nearly empty after the day’s work. you’re both exhausted, but neither of you is quite ready to head home.

shoto hands you a fresh towel as you come out of the shower, his movements slow and deliberate. you notice how carefully he looks after even the smallest details:

making sure the towel’s warm and that the temperature in the room is just right.

you take it from him with a soft smile. “you’ve been really nice to me lately.”

shoto pauses, his eyes flicking to yours. there’s an emotion there you can’t quite place, something quiet and unspoken.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice steady. “I want to.”

the words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you charged with something that hasn’t been said aloud but feels clear all the same.

you’ve always known shoto in pieces—quiet, introspective, deeply caring in his own way—but this is different. this is more.

when you step closer, your heart thumping louder than it should, he doesn’t pull away.

instead, he looks down at you, his mismatched eyes soft with something that’s not quite a confession but feels like one all the same.

“I’ve always wanted to be there for you,” he adds quietly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I just…couldn’t figure out how.”

the quiet honesty of it leaves you breathless, and for a moment, you let the words come freely.

“you’re doing it, shoto,” you say. “you’ve been doing it.”

before either of you can say another word, the space between you seems to shrink of its own accord.

his gaze lingers on yours, and there’s a long moment of quiet before you close the small gap, your breath mingling with his.

his hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, and it’s the gentlest touch, but it sends a warmth through you that settles deep in your chest. without a word, he leans in.

and when his lips meet yours, it’s not forceful, nor is it rushed—it’s as natural as everything else that’s happened between you.

when you pull back, there’s a soft smile on his lips, a look of quiet satisfaction as he rests his forehead against yours.

“guess this makes it official,” you chuckle.

he hums, “yeah.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[silverskyeline]

'joyride' 18+

✭ logan promptober day 1 - motorbike oneshot - logan fucks you on his (scotts) motorbike in the middle of the forest because you can't keep it down inside the mansion. (1.7k words) pairing - logan howlett (x-men timeline) + afab!reader tags - established relationship, reader lives at the x-mansion, pet names + praising (princess, doll, good girl etc), he fucks you on scotts bike, lots of dirty talk, dom!logan and sub!reader, wet mentions, creampie, overstimulation, reader orgasms twice, he covers your mouth to keep you quiet, outdoor sex, a little rough, reader wears a skirt.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it's dark, the trees and forest surrounding the road only serving to cloak the ground below even further. you can make out his silhouette above you, lit only by the moon high in the sky. he's big, broad, towering over you as his frame moves with each thrust, casting a shadow down upon your body.

he's got you laying on your back on his bike parked at the side of the road. well, scott's bike. logan would clean it before he returned it, or maybe he wouldn't. scott was well acquainted with cleaning up messes.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you fit perfectly against the seat, your back supported against the fuel tank with your legs draped over either side of him on his thighs. his rough hands had hiked your shirt up over your chest, revealing your breasts that he'd littered with kisses just moments before plunging deep inside of you.

"wore a skirt cus' you knew i was gonna fuck you, huh?" he grins, you can just about make out a flash of white from his teeth in the darkness. you don't want to say yes, too embarrassed to, but he knows that's exactly why you dressed the way you did. "givin' me easy access? how kind of you, doll."

soft little moans are slipping from your lips from the way his cock eases past your panties he's pushed to the side and glides inside of you with little resistance. he fills you so perfectly, your walls have become accustomed to his thick length and crave the way it stretches you out just right.

he's holding you in place, gripping your waist as he picks up the pace. the bike creaks a little with the movement, protesting under the rigorous thrusting. "good girl. . ." he coos with a low grumble, "tell me how it feels, tell me how i'm makin' you feel."

"feels so good," you whimper, it's all you can manage, letting your head fall back against the metal of the handlebars, one hand gripping the side of the bike and the other gripping the front of logan's white tank to keep yourself steady.

he could listen to you all day, he's drowning in the noises you make, his heightened hearing serving him well - the quiet mewls, the wet sounds from your dripping pussy, the way your breath hitches in your throat. logan drinks it all up, his mouth watering, he can't get enough.

"bet you were gettin' wet the whole way here," he grumbles through each thrust, "bet you left a real pretty wet patch on the seat, didn't ya?" there's a clear smirk in his voice as he continues, "mmh, n' now you're takin' my cock like you were made for it. takin' it so fuckin' well, look at that. . ."

his eyes drift downwards to watch the way his length disappears inside your pretty pink pussy, he exhales shakily at the sight of you sucking him in. he pulls out, almost all the way but not quite, seeing how your slick glistens on his dick in the moonlight. his eyes flutter shut as he slams back in, biting his lip as you instinctively clench around him at the harsh movement.

you cry out and it echoes into the forest, thighs tensing as his dick curves inside of you, threatening to hit that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. the sound you make spurs him on, encourages him, a low rumbling laugh escaping him as he fucks into you with renewed vigour.

"takin' it like a good girl," he praises you, rubbing his thumbs across the exposed skin on your waist as he watches your chest bounce with every slam of his cock, "but you gotta be quiet, yeah? they'll be able to hear you back at the mansion with those moans, am i makin' you feel that good?"

you can't help but nod, whimpering softly in an effort to suppress the noises he's pulling from you. logan always knew exactly how to fuck you, how to make you sing out, how to find that perfect angle as he pounds you relentlessly.

he hadn't even needed to knock on your door to invite you out that night, you were already watching him wistfully from your bedroom window as he approached the bike. logan caught your eye and smirked as he jerked his head, signalling for you to come with. and come you did.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum!" you frantically scream, gasping suddenly as you feel the pleasure coil in your gut. it's coming in slow-rising waves, each brush of his cock against your sensitive, spongy g-spot threatening to tip you over the edge.

his hand is over your mouth, muffling your moans as he picks up the pace, his other arm wraps around your thigh, helping his angle and allowing him to push deeper. the bike is really rocking now. brows twitching, he knows he's close too. he often can't help but cum from all the beautiful sounds you make when you're close, and it doesn't help - the way your pussy so desperately clenches around him. you're practically begging him to cum deep inside of you.

"shhhh," he shakes his head, grinning down at you, "that's it. . . that's it, cum for me pretty girl. cum for me nice and quiet, right here, right now, on this bike. cum for me cus' i'm askin' you to, tellin' you to."

his words do nothing to calm the rising tide within you, they spur your orgasm on further. between his filthy, dirty laced demands and his cock plunging deep into your aching walls, you feel yourself coming apart at the seams.

you're screaming beneath his palm as you feel the edge near, and before you know it you're tumbling over it with a loud moan, eyes rolling back. "fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck me - fuck me logan!" is what he'd hear if he moved his hand from your mouth, but his calloused hand stays roughly planted over your lips as you cum. loud. hard.

"oh fuck, shit-" he curses under his breath, feeling your walls flutter around him as you arch your back off the fuel tank, "cum around my cock, that's it, atta' girl."

it's almost too much, the praise, the dirty talk, the way he's making light work of you with his throbbing length. he makes you see stars every time, your eyes rolling back to see the actual stars above you both, the woods filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as he shows no signs of slowing down.

you're struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling the orgasm wash over your whole body, a warmth spreading from your groin. it feels so good, and he can tell. he can see it in your eyes as he watches them flutter.

"you're gonna make me cum," logan pants softly into the cool night air, "gonna cum inside that pussy, you want that? hm? want me to fuckin' paint your walls with my cum? gonna be spillin' out the whole ride home."

holy fuck his words. you feel a second orgasm approaching, chasing the end of the first.

he's moaning, grunting as he pumps into you. his thick veins throb against your walls as he feels himself cum, white hot ropes spilling into your begging cunt. his mouth falls open, gasping as your pussy drinks it all up through your second orgasm, taking every last drop just like he knew you would, just as you do every time he takes you out here to fuck you.

logan catches his breath, hunched over you as he sits up, moving a hand to your waist to keep you steady as his other hand runs through his hair. hand slipping from your mouth, he lets it trail down your chest, along your tummy, to rest over your mound. his thumb spreads apart your wet folds before diving in to find your clit.

you gasp, clearly overstimulated from both orgasms. your legs twitch, your whole body shaking slightly as he plays with you. he can't help but smirk at the reaction he can illicit from you just from a few little strokes.

"sensitive," he mutters, thumb dancing across your sensitive bud, "you were such a good girl for me, i gotta train you to be quieter though." logan tilts his head, watching as you squirm beneath him, "can't keep taking you out here just to fuck you, you gotta learn to behave n' keep it down so i can fuck you at the mansion too."

whining, your hand snakes down to join his over your clit, urging him to go slower, and he does.

"though," his smirk widens, "you do look too good like this, spread out for me on this bike, messy and drippin' with my cum." eyes trailing down your body, he admires each and every inch of you. "think i'll keep fuckin' you on it even after you learn to be quiet, i'd have you anywhere. . ."

he leans down, kissing along the valley of your chest, "in my bed. . ." he continues, kissing down along your tummy, "in your bed," he sits up, "in the garden. . ." his thumb on your clit speeds up, causing you to gasp, "anywhere i can have you. i will."

you whimper and he hushes you, "you like the sound of that, princess?" logan nods, "want me to take care of you everywhere? fuck you so hard in that bed of yours where you sit and think about me?"

your cheeks flush a deep red, squirming on the cool metal of the bike. the night air nips at your heated skin.

"thought so," he grins and pulls his hand away from your clit which earns a pathetic whine from you, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick your sweet, sticky wetness from it.

you watch him with an almost hypnotised look through hooded lids. but he grins, this wasn't over. he wasn't done with you yet.

"let's go home and test just how quiet you can be, hm?"

[luvvyouforever]

undercover - aaron hotchner x reader

synopsis: in the middle of a case, your worst fear comes true. you have to go on an a date with aaron hotchner, the boss you've been crushing on for months. content: canon-typical violence, tropey, kissing, flirtatious aaron, mentions of alcohol, afab reader who wears a dress. word count: 4k+ a lil bit oops author's note: ahhh my favorite trope in crime shows. enjoy!

"so based on this geographical profile y/n and i worked on, there's only two bars our unsub could frequent with his victims. the first one is more of a nightclub and we don't think it's likely that he'll be bringing them to such a rowdy environment," reid spoke to the crowd of officers and agents awaiting instruction. "the other bar also has a restaurant attached so we'll be keeping our investigation here."

jj grabbed a handful of papers with the bar's information and passed them out to the officers. once reid had stepped to the side, aaron came forward to wrap up their profile.

"he's cunning, yet incredibly violent. do not ambush him. he will escape your grasp and hurt you in the process. be on the lookout officers," he said with a tap to the desk that sent everyone back to work. with a subtle turn, aaron gazed at you and reid. "good work on the mapping. meet back up in the conference room in 5."

"thank you, sir," you and reid echoed before beginning to organize your files back into a folder.

all the while you tried to remain professional, your heart throbbed in your chest at the smallest ounce of praise from your boss. the way he held the room in his hand and demanded respect without ever having to actually ask for it was a part of the reason why you've had a crush on them for the better part of a year.

crush, now, felt too small. it was an infatuation at this point.

it didn't matter much, however, because would you ever confess your feelings for your boss? the boss who has been nothing but stoic your entire time of knowing him? absolutely not.

shrugging the butterflies in your body away, you head over to the impromptu coffee station created for the large number of people inside the police station and pour a cup of stale yet hot and much needed energy. this case was a doozy, one that had every agent just wishing for its end. and it felt like it was soon to come to a close. they had been coming up with some kind of plan. what that plan was, you weren't entirely sure.

when you managed to snap a lid on the coffee cup, you headed into the conference room where the rest of the bau were seated haphazardly around the room. you took a spot between emily and reid, eyes focused on aaron and rossi standing in front of a whiteboard.

"that coffee's not any good, is it?" rossi asked, noting the cup in your hand.

"every sip is somehow worse than the last, but i think we all need it," you said, following your statement up with another pained drink. rossi laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you could've swore that the corner of aaron's lips titled into a smirk. you ignored it, though, and began reading the words on the board.

"so, we're hoping to catch the unsub tonight," aaron started suddenly, turning with his ever-present air of professionalism. "if he's still following his schedule, he'll find his next victim tonight, most likely at the bar reid and y/n found. we've thought about how we're going catch him and i think we'll have to go undercover. two of us."

"under what pretenses, exactly?" derek asked on the other side of the table.

"on a date," rossi answered. just faintly, a red tint appeared on aaron's cheeks. you wondered what could possibly have made him- "we've picked our two already. y/n and aaron."

"oh!" you said surprisedly. "what led to this decision, pray tell?"

aaron looked down at his folders as if they were the most important thing in the world in that very moment. rossi glanced over, shook his head, then looked at you again.

"you two just seem the most likely out of any of us to go on a date. we don't want to look suspicious, no?" rossi answered.

"i-uh-i suppose not," you said. "my go bag isn't really packed with date wear clothes. mostly just pantsuits and academy t-shirts."

aaron finally cleared his throat and met your eyes for the first time since it was announced that you two would technically be going on a date. even if you would be wearing bulletproof vests under your clothes.

"that's okay. we won't be going out till 7pm. it's only three now. you're free to find something. as long as it's easy to move in," he said in a voice that felt an octave deeper than usual. and then he did something that almost made you faint on the spot. aaron dug into his pocket, fished out his wallet, and pulled out a credit card. his credit card. "use this."

sheepishly, you took the card from his hands and placed it into your own bag. "thanks," you muttered. an elbow jabbed its way into your side from beside you and emily was smirking at you. you dismissed her with your hand and stood to exit the room.

"hotel lobby at 7, yeah?" aaron said.

you forced a nervous smile to your face and nodded, then left the room. with aaron's credit card in your bag. about to buy an outfit. for a date with him. you weren't entirely positive you could safely drive.

౨ৎ

with the information you had about the bar, you picked a semi-formal, simple dress that paired well with heels you already packed. aaron was already paying for the dress. you couldn't ask him to also pay for the accessories.

after some test laps up and down your hotel room, you declared the outfit was "easy to move in" and grabbed your bag, ensuring that his credit card was still inside. the time was only 6:45, but you knew aaron would already be there, waiting.

with a check that your holster was properly attached to your thigh, you left the room and took the elevator down to the first floor. your heart was beating irregularly in your chest and your hands were clammy, but the reflective surface of the elevator's walls let you know that you looked good. for a fake date with aaron hotchner.

the elevator dinged when the doors opened and immediately, you saw aaron sitting in a lobby chair. he looked up at the sound and stood. he was dressed impeccably well in a suit with his hair done in its usual middle part. handsome was the only word on the tip of your tongue.

"you look beautiful," he said upon reaching your figure. it seemed like he didn't mean for the words to slip out, but instead of retracting them, he simply held out his arm for yours to wrap around.

your mouth went dry, but you knew you had to say something back. "thank you, hotch. you look handsome yourself."

"i think for the purposes of tonight," he said, "you can just call me aaron."

you nodded, finding words hard to muster up. instead, you allowed him to lead out of the hotel to one of the least suspicious looking SUVs parked outside. when he reached the door, he opened it for you.

you couldn't hold back a little laugh at the gesture. "you know...we're not on the date yet," you said. regardless of the light humor of the situation, you allowed him to help you into the passenger seat. he smirked, shut the door, then walked around to his door.

when he got in, his usual stone expression found its way to his face again. "forgive me for wanting to make this feel as natural as possible. i'm sure it's awkward going on a date with your boss. even if it is undercover."

"oh, no!" you blurted out. his eyebrows raised as he backed out of the parking spot. his arm wound its way around your seat, neglecting the back-up camera for the traditional method. "sorry. it's not awkward. you don't have to worry. promise."

"yeah?" he asked, putting the car back into drive and heading to the downtown area of the small town you were in. at a stop sign, he turned to look at you. if you weren't such a highly trained profiler, you would've certainly missed the way his eyes raked up and down your body, taking in your dress of choice. "you made a good pick."

your cheeks warmed with his flattery. to avoid meeting his gaze, you fished the credit card out of your purse to offer back to him. "thanks," you muttered. "you didn't have to pay for it, you know?"

he took the credit card from your grasp and shoved it into his pants pocket. "don't worry about it," he said with a wave of his hand. "figured if you're forced into going on a date, you should have something nice to wear at least."

you looked over to his body in the driver's seat, his face focused on the road ahead of him. "why do you keep assuming that i'm hating every second of this? i mean...how rare is it that we get to eat somewhere nice while on a case? and i'm getting paid for it while in the presence of a handsome man. could be worse things." you didn't know what compelled you to add on the last bit, but when you saw his cheeks flare up, you didn't regret it.

instead of responding, aaron's body relaxed in the driver's seat.

after several minutes of driving, the bar came into view and you bit your lip in nervousness. this unsub was pretty intense and you were heading directly into the lion's den. you tried to cram the nervousness deep down in the pit of your stomach as aaron pulled into the small parking lot next door.

before turning the car completely off, aaron turned his body towards yours. "now we really need to look as inconspicuous as possible. it might feel weird, but we need to look like a real couple on a date, okay?"

"yes, sir," you responded on impulse. "i mean...yes, aaron."

despite his attempts not to, he breathily chuckled. "already off to a great start," he joked. you chuckled with him and unbuckled your seat. "i'm gonna text the team that we're heading in. don't open your door. let me do it."

a minute of quick texting passed by and aaron shut off the car, then stepped out. a few seconds passed before your door opened and aaron was extending his hand to yours. you took it with a sweet smile and let him lead you out of the car. he shut the door behind you and your arm found his own again.

regardless of the reason being for the case or for just the pure want to be closer to him, you leaned into aaron's strong body. he took to the gesture immediately and held you even closer. it was intoxicating, but you kept your gaze focused on the bar ahead.

after what felt like agonizing hours of walking side by side, you came onto the host stand at the front of the restaurant.

"how many?" the host asked.

"two," aaron responded. the hand that was holding on to your arm began rubbing the skin there up and down. every touch of his fingers left goosebumps.

the host gestured for the two of you to follow her. quicker than you'd like, she led you towards a table in the middle of the restaurant. your eyes surveyed the restaurant and bar around you, scanning for someone that resembled the unsub's profile. once the host walked away, you and aaron looked at each other and shook your heads, signaling that nothing felt out of the ordinary so far.

"order whatever you'd like," aaron said, his head pointing towards the menu in your hand. "hon," he added.

the petname rolled from his tongue naturally, as if it was a name he had been calling you for years. you tried to not show that it affected you much, but aaron noticed the way your breath caught in your throat. despite the nervousness that settled over your body, you decided to take another leap and with a shift in your seat, your heeled foot grazed over his leg. he was shocked at the sudden touch, but spread his legs further nonetheless.

you didn't pull away either when the server came forward.

"welcome, guys. date night tonight, i'm guessing?" she asked with a smile.

"mhm!" you answered first. "decided to get out and dress up for once in a while."

aaron looked at you with an almost impressed look. maybe rossi was right. you did look like a couple.

"isn't that nice? well, what would you two like to drink tonight?"

"an old-fashioned, please," aaron responded. "and a water."

"i'll take a cosmopolitan and a water," you added.

the server noted down the drinks and walked away. your foot continued sliding up and down aaron's legs, becoming a subconscious act at that point. he flipped through the menu once, then glanced around the room again. still nothing.

"an old-fashioned, hmm?" you asked, eyeing one of the meals on the menu that sounded particularly tasty.

"is that shocking?" he asked.

"no," you answered honestly. "just learning more about you, aaron."

aaron hummed, as if he were about to say something, but instead focused on his menu again. a few minutes of comfortable silence passed before the server came over with a tray of your drinks. she sat them down on the table, along with the waters, then pulled out a notepad again.

"had enough time to pick what you'd like?" she asked.

"know what you want, dear?" you asked, looking up at aaron.

"i'll take the steak frites," he said to the server.

both he and the server looked at you. you told her what you'd like from the menu, hoping it wasn't expensive enough for aaron. he barely registered the price, though, and instead collected your menus to hand to the server. if this was what dates were usually like with him, you could definitely tolerate them.

"you look like you're thinking about something," aaron said from the other side of the table where he had been watching both you and the door intently.

you took a sip of your drink and sat it back down. "i thought we said no profiling your coworkers, dear," you teased. "i feel like that applies tenfold when you're on a date."

he chuckled and took a sip of his own drink. you noted just how attractive he was with a glass of whiskey in his hand, laughing.

"pardon me for wanting to know what my beautiful date has in her head," aaron said. his words made you bite your lip and look down at the table. suddenly, though, his demeanor shifted as his eyes connected with someone coming in at the door. "don't turn around."

"is he here?" you whispered.

he nodded and picked up his drink, eyes following him to the bar. almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head towards the bar. "fifth seat," he whispered back.

sure enough, an unsub matching the physical profile had seated himself next to an alone woman at the bar. almost immediately upon sitting down, he began talking to her. the fact that the man you had been trying to catch for a long time, the man who committed some really gruesome murders was that close to you made you almost ill. you passed your emotions off by taking a drink.

"i'm gonna grab another drink, baby. i haven't seen the server around," aaron suddenly said. he nodded to you, perhaps for reassurance, before standing and adjusting his blazer to ensure the holster on his side was covered. luckily, the seat directly next to the woman was empty and he positioned himself on the other side of it. the unsub barely registered his presence, which was good. you took note of his clothes, his hair, everything, just in case she slipped through your grasp again.

eventually, aaron had flagged down the bartender, ordered his second drink, and came back with it in his hand.

"he's just flirting with her," aaron whispered once he was out of earshot. "but she's falling for it. probably not long till he tries to leave with her."

"i won't get to finish my food," you said half-seriously.

"i'll get it boxed up for you, hon," he said. though that time, aaron's voice was a whisper. the petname was for you alone.

just as aaron had expected, the unsub stood from his seat at the bar, the woman next to him following suit. together, they headed towards the back where the bathroom was, along with an exit inside the kitchen which he was likely going to use. both yours and aarons followed them and with a curt nod, you both stood to head towards the back, several paces behind them.

suddenly, they went through a door, to what seemed like a closet first before going into the kitchen. you and aaron paused at the beginning of the hallway. then some noises erupted from the closet, ones that would make an older woman blush and hold her hand to her mouth.

aaron looked back at you with a confused look on his face. at that very moment, the closet door opened. you and aaron looked at each other in panic, but just before they stepped out of the closet, you grabbed aaron by his tie and pulled him closer to you.

within seconds, you had hiked your leg up his own, revealing your thigh in the dress. his hand quickly came to the skin and he squeezed tightly. to add to the scene, you wrapped a hand around the base of aaron's neck and pulled him down. his lips met your own with a rough clash, but then the kiss smoothed out.

at first, he was still, lips unmoving against yours. when your fingers tangled themselves into the short hairs at his neck, he finally kissed you back. acting, he thought to himself as he deepened the kiss and pulled your leg higher up his. undercover, he tried to remind himself when your lips let forth a whimper into his mouth.

neither of you wanted to pull away. you only pulled your head back when you heard the kitchen door swing open and closed. you inhaled a deep breath and met aaron's dark brown eyes. they were wide and his cheeks were flushed.

"sorry. i-it was all i could think to do," you stuttered out.

aaron shook his head. "don't be," he said quickly. "come on, he's about to leave. we'll talk after."

you felt the warmth of aaron's body leave yours as he pulled the gun from his holster. you retrieved your own from your thigh and followed him through the kitchen. he flashed his badge towards the chefs to get them to stop yelling and they pointed towards the exit where the unsub had just left.

both of you picked up your pace. had the kiss deepened for a few more seconds, you would have certainly missed him. however, as soon as you threw open the exit door, the unsub was forcefully shoving the young woman into his car.

"fbi! put your hands up and back away from the car!" aaron yelled. the unsub didn't do immediately as asked, despite two guns pointing in his direction. "i won't ask again! put your hands up and back away from the car!"

in a quick flash, the unsub reached inside his jacket. in the streetlight, you saw the glint of a gun. hardly a second passed before he pulled it out, aimed, but then fell to the asphalt.

your finger came off the trigger and before lodging it back into the holster, you turned the safety back on. you hadn't killed him, only immobilized him in his right leg. it was enough for aaron to run forwards, take the gun and throw it to the side. while he placed handcuffs on the unsub, you ran to the other side of the car and rescued the woman from the passenger seat. crying, she fell into your arms. suddenly, you were surrounded by the town's police department, along with the rest of your team who had been waiting just down the street.

before everything got too hectic to seek each other out, you and aaron took a long look at each other. he nodded with a smile, his form of praise, before hauling the unsub into a police car.

౨ৎ

a few hours had passed before everyone was released from the scene. the bau loaded up into their SUVs, aaron taking the one you had rode together in. much to your chagrin, his car filled up before you could get in with him. instead, you rode with emily and reid on the way back to the hotel to gather your belongings.

when you arrived to the hotel, everyone split off into their rooms. aaron seemed to be speaking privately with rossi so you opted to go upstairs and change out of the outfit you had been wearing for the better half of the night.

as you were unbuckling your heels and placing them back into your go-bag, you heard a faint knock on the door. you rose from the bed, feet aching, and answered it.

there, aaron stood with a white t-shirt on, having had to change out of his clothes from the scene.

"hey," you said.

"can i come in?" he asked.

only then did you notice that he was holding something behind his back. you stepped to the side to allow him to enter and he scooted the item in front of him to prevent you from seeing.

"what do you have there?" you asked. slowly, he brought forth two boxes of food, having kept his promise from earlier.

"it's probably not the freshest anymore, but nothing that a microwave can't fix," he said sheepishly.

you could've cried on the spot. smiling brightly, you took the food from his hands and sat it on the hotel desk. a grunt escaped his lips as your arms engulfed him in a hug. his arms wrapped around your body and your feet lifted from the ground a little.

"thank you," you said genuinely.

aaron watched as you took the food and warmed them up, going for yours first so that he could have the slightly warmer meal. once they were both ready to be ate, you found some plastic silverware in the little coffee tray and handed one set to him.

"round two?" you said with a shrug.

"round two," he agreed. "but...i wouldn't mind a round three, or four, or five, when we get back home." he picked up a fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

"glad to know my impulsive gift didn't scare you off," you joked. you paused for a second and set the food down. "which, i mean, i wouldn't mind a round two on that either."

aaron paused too, setting his own box back down on the desk. he stood and offered his hand to help you up from the bed. you took it and rose. then, his hand wrapped around your back where his palm was splayed across the skin there.

"i wouldn't mind a round two either," he said quietly. "but i call the shots this time."

your knees felt weak being so close to aaron. you didn't miss the way his cheeks flared and one of his hands shook nervously. had he been feeling the same way for you for this long too?

"you can call the shots anytime, hon," you teased, echoing the petnames for earlier.

smirking, his free hand ghosted up your side till it met your chin. his fingers titled your head upwards and ever so softly, he leaned in. this kiss was much more romantic, more loving, less rushed. he had time, now. he wasn't kissing you to hide from someone else. he was kissing you because he has been wanting to for oh so long.

minutes must've passed before the two of you pulled away to a pure need to breathe. he smiled. "good round two?"

"i think i'm gonna need a few more just to double check."

[moonydustx]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Zoro, Ace, Luffy, Law, Crocodile, King, and 2 Characters of your choice x Reader, where they and Reader are having a romantic moment and just when the moment is just right, something or someone interrupts the romantic scene?

ok, ok, I know, I'm really late with this one. But life is so chaotic that I won't even look for excuses hahah but I really liked your request. I think some came out a little less romantic? I don't know, I'll leave it for your evaluation. I hope you enjoy!

warnings were placed individually in each of the stories.

F!Reader x Zoro, Ace, Luffy, Law, Crocodile, King and Smoker (placed individually)

requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

Zoro

warnings: mentions of previous fights/problems with an enemy pirate. Zoro is very direct with his feelings. Mentions of drinking (we have Zoro in this one, so it's kind of obligatory)

Another victory, another time to rest in some bar.

Taking the opportunity to explore the new island after solving yet another series of problems, you and your companions chose to stuff their faces - and especially Luffy and Chopper, fill their bellies with food - in a bar they found there.

However, something still stirred you. The encounter with an enemy pirate that afternoon and the way he had spoken to you still affected you. It still made you see your position on the team as shallow, expendable, unnecessary. It still made you want to isolate yourself.

"A dose for whatever's going on in your head." Zoro placed three small glasses in front of you and three in front of him when he sat down.

"What do you mean by that?" you turned to him, only then realizing that what was a full table before was now just the two of you.

"Everyone was leaving, some asking you to come along, but you seemed stuck in your own head." he explained and drank the first shot of drink. "Like I said, one glass, one thought."

"And what are you thinking?"

"That you stayed here because you didn't want to go with the wire eyebrow, of course." he pointed out, eliciting a light laugh from you. Little did Zoro know that, out of all the options you could have, Sanji wasn't exactly the one you were looking for. "Now it's your turn."

You downed the drink and felt the strong alcohol burn your throat, but the words didn't want to come out. It was too difficult to bring into the world an insecurity that, in your eyes, would be so dispensable in the vision of someone as strong as Zoro.

"Me again." he pointed out, seeing that you had remained quiet. As soon as he downed another shot, he started. "You let that shit that guy said get into your head, didn't you?"

"Can you tell me where he went wrong?" you asked and only saw Zoro laugh in disbelief. "I'm weak, I'm just a linguist, I can't fight, I don't have a devil fruit. What am I but dead weight?"

"Much more than you imagine." Zoro responded as if it were obvious.

"Much more? Only if it's much more of a burden, much more of a responsibility. I don't want to cause problems for anyone, I don't want to become a responsibility. If it weren't for you today…"

"If it weren't for me, you would still be alive and well, no one would let that idiot hurt you." Zoro seemed to be stressing about the subject and that became clearer when you saw him downing his last dose and the two of yours that were left and then remaining in a brief silence.

"I'm sorry Zoro, I didn't mean to…"

"You're important, okay? To Luffy, to the crew, to me." Seeing you look away from him, without much refinement or kindness, Zoro turned your face back to him, holding you by the chin. "I would face him a thousand times over if I had to."

"Zoro, what does that mean?"

You could feel the adrenaline rush through your body as well as waves of goosebumps going through you from the point Zoro touched you and before he finished the path to your lips, a loud noise on the table separated the two of you.

"It means I don't want you talking about yourself like that again, please." the ending came out more like a whisper than anything else. "And it also means that whenever you need me, I will protect you. It's not everyone's responsibility, you're right, but please let it be mine."

"Here you go!" Luffy sat between the two of you, practically half on top of each of your bodies. In front, a plate full of different types of sweets: chocolates, lollipops, cotton candy. Chopper was along, already stealing some pieces. "Today we know it was a difficult day for you and we know you like sweets, so this is a good thing to cheer you up. What do you think?"

"I think it's amazing!" You took a piece of chocolate, enjoying it as it melted in your mouth. "Thank you, you're amazing." despite leaving in a loud voice, your eyes went to Zoro, who just nodded and adjusted himself on the bar stool, pleased to see you happy again.

Ace

warnings: Ace and F!Reader have a casual, no-strings-attached affair.

The party and chaos accumulated on one side of the Moby Dick, it was a common image as there was no shortage - and often, barely needed - of reasons for the crew to get drunk and celebrate something. That didn't exempt you. With a good dose of beer in hand, you were sitting further back on the edge of the ship, just contemplating the mess a good few meters ahead, while the sea was choppy behind you, the cool breeze sending goosebumps against your skin.

"Hey, what's a pretty girl doing so isolated like that?" Ace leaned against the free space next to you.

"I just came to catch some wind, breathe a little." you explained, seeing him get even closer and stop almost glued to your side. "And you?"

"I just came to see a pretty girl." He placed his hand on your knee, caressing your skin, which was covered in goosebumps by the cool wind - and perhaps by his touch. "But seriously, is everything okay?"

"Of course, I really just came to enjoy the view for a bit." you explained, seeing him paying attention to every word. "I like to keep these happy moments in my memory, and besides, the night is beautiful."

"Yeah, I like it too." giving up the caress on your leg, he sat down next to you. "I like to think that one day it will be the two of us."

"What do you mean the two of us?"

"This celebration today. It's going to be about the two of us. About me putting you there in the middle, getting down on my knees and asking you to be mine and then, after a while, it's going to be the celebration about our marriage." he saw you laugh knowing he had surprised you with his brief proposal.

"And what else, fire fists?"

"The old man is going to celebrate our wedding, after all, he's the one who has to give the blessing. We're going to drink all night and then, after a while, maybe we'll be celebrating the arrival of our child, I don't know." he shrugged, chuckling at the very thought. "Maybe I went too far."

"For all of this, we need to stop being just hookups, don't you think?"

"You and I know that's not all we are." His tone of voice lowered, as if he was telling an intimate secret - which it wasn't - between you. "You know you mean so much more than just that to me."

"I know and I know you know it too." you turned around to try and steal a quick kiss from him, but were stopped by Ace placing his hat on you.

Gently, he hit the object on your head, removing your strands of hair that were a little messy and then, he helped the small hanging rope. His hand wandered from the object to your cheek, placing a quick caress.

"I love you, Ace." your voice came out as a brief whisper, a confession that was almost forbidden.

"I love you even more." he stole an almost chaste kiss from your lips, just to confirm the feeling.

"You should say that sober." you warned him and saw him walk away with a cynical laugh in him. Upon reaching the glass he had brought, Ace took another sip and offered it to you, who accepted. Water.

"I needed courage to come and talk to you about this today and I don't think drinking alcohol would help." he explained, placing quick kisses along your exposed skin. "So, no more hookups?"

"No more hookups." you confirmed, feeling his lips slide over your skin. "Keep doing that and I'm going to want you to get down on your knees and propose as soon as possible."

"For your information, I intend to kneel today." his kisses found the weak spot on your neck. "But you're the one who's going to be asking for something more."

"Stop that!" perhaps the distraction of his kisses prevented you from seeing Thatch and Marco approaching. "The two of them won't be isolated in this clump."

"Did he have the decency to ask you to be his girlfriend?" Marco asked you, who nodded, feeling his cheeks burn in shyness. "Finally!"

"Then there are no more excuses…" Thatch threw Ace over his shoulder and Marco did the same to you.

"Put me down." the fire fist asked, even if he wanted to, he would have let go of there.

"We need to celebrate. You finally got the courage." Marco pointed out while you didn't even make an effort to get off his shoulder.

It should have been a night for the two of you to celebrate the new agreement between you, but it was difficult to celebrate alone when everyone wanted to celebrate the fact that you were finally and officially together.

Luffy

warnings: Luffy is a cute fool, that's all. Ah, we have mentions of Luffy sinking into the water (poor dear and his inability to swim)

Damn, a thousand times damn. Why was it almost impossible to get Luffy to listen to anything other than his crazy ideas?

Most of the time it had ended well, but it didn't seem to be the same as today. Praying to any god that could help you at that moment, you threw yourself against the cold, turbulent water of the sea. Shaking your arms the way you thought swimming was, you began to dive awkwardly. A few feet below, you could see Luffy sinking.

With some difficulty, you reached him and despite being weak, he still remained conscious for enough seconds to see that it was you there. Sticking to his vest and using the very little you knew, you managed to pull him back to the Sunny and now the fight that was taking place throughout the ship was being contained mainly by Zoro and Sanji, leaving you not much to worry about other than revive Luffy.

Not finding many plausible solutions, you stuck your mouth to his and tried to pull out all the water he had swallowed. When you repeated the gesture for the third time, you saw him wake up spitting, while you were kneeling next to him, relief washing over you.

"Thank you for saving me." he began, knowing you would probably be furious. "And apparently you learned to swim."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." you allowed yourself to relax for a brief moment. In the end, he was fine.

"The only problem is, I've always thought about doing it, but not right after I drowned." upon seeing the question mark that was practically drawn on your forehead, Luffy continued. "I always thought about kissing you. You're pretty, nice…"

"Have you always thought about kissing me?" You looked indignant, but quickly corrected yourself, letting the little secret you carried for so long slip out there. "I've always thought that too Luffy, I think I like you, more than just as friends."

"Can we repeat the kiss…" before he finished proposing, his calm tone was replaced by a loud grumble as soon as he was hit by Nami.

"You idiot! How can you let yourself fall into the sea when there was only one person who doesn't know how to swim to save you." she insisted, the angry tone clear in her voice.

Some of your coughs caught the attention of both of them, as well as that of the ship's doctor.

"You might have swallowed a lot of water too!" Chopper pointed out, stethoscope in hand. "I need to run some tests."

"Don't worry about it, Chopper." You tried to push him away, but soon you felt him cover you with a cloth.

"Listen to Chopper." Luffy asked this time, already recovered and almost dry, which was a mystery to you how he managed to do it. "Chopper, take care of her and as soon as everything is okay, call me, please."

Luffy had no social constraints that would prevent him from doing that in front of everyone, but something told him that it had to be special. Then he just placed a chaste kiss on your cheek and left. Now everyone seemed as lost as you had been the first time.

Law

warnings: sweet boyfriend Law. This has to be a warning because this man is amazing.

Before you even open your eyes, you can feel a pair of arms wrapping around you firmly, moist lips sliding along the contour of your neck. The warm quilting of the blanket against your skin also made you want to stay there even more. However, it had just been a break after lunch for the two of you to talk - and in fact, talk and without meaning to, or perhaps because of the way his fingers slid under the top of your head in a caress, you found yourself being dragged to the world of dreams.

"Looks like someone woke up from their nap." Law's huskier voice indicated that you weren't the only one to have closed your eyes that afternoon.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one who took a nap." you - even though you practically had to fight against his arms - turned around, just a few centimeters separating your face from his. "You look rested."

"And you look beautiful, even in your sleep." he stole a quick kiss from your lips. "Even snoring."

"Snoring?"

"Yes, the noise was certainly capable of driving away the sea kings that were circling around." he grunted when he felt the light, painless slap on his arm. "Okay, it was just a cute snore."

"A cute snore?" you pushed him in vain, feeling like you only gave him enough space to pull you onto his body. "Don't even think about it, Trafalgar, after that, you don't deserve it."

"Don't be so mean." his hands slid over your body in a gentle way, practically not malicious. "Don't I deserve anything?"

"Nothing." you leaned down, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"That kind of nothing seems interesting to me." he pointed to the other cheek. "Can I have a nothing here too?" As soon as your lips met his skin, the tattooed finger moved to another corner of his face. "And here, can I?"

"Since when did you become so sappy?" you continued following where he pointed, leaving soft trails of kisses against his skin. The last place he pointed was at his lips. "Do you think you haven't gotten enough kisses?"

"Not yet." He raised himself up on his elbows, just to reach your lips and take them for himself.

His hands soon tangled against your messy strands of hair, while almost slowly he allowed himself to explore every corner of the paradise that was hidden between your lips. There was no searching for contact, no mischievous squeezes or grumbling and moaning, just the two of you, tangled in a pile of sheets, exchanging kisses and caresses.

"Captain!" Bepo's voice reached the two of you before he had practically walked through the door. "I found you!"

"Would you mind knocking on the door before coming in!" Law's voice started low and ended almost furiously.

His hands, previously on your body, pulled the sheet to cover your body. Even though you were fully dressed and Bepo posed no threat, Law couldn't help the sense of protection that surrounded him when it came to you.

"What's up Bepo?" You said more sweetly, discreetly trying to get off your boyfriend.

"The captain is about an hour late for his task and Ikkaku has been looking for you for a while too." the bear explained. "And also, if we continue on the same route, we will come face to face with a giant sea king in a few minutes."

"And you just let me know now?" Law grunted, but the stress was short-lived when he heard your laugh, almost like an automatic tranquilizer for him. "I'll meet you in a minute."

Understanding the message, Bepo closed the door and left the room. Your boyfriend's face gave it all away: he wished he could stay there, but he couldn't. Duty called you both.

"I'm coming to sleep here with you today, what do you think?" you proposed and saw him stop fixing his shoes to look at you, a small smile lit against his lips.

"Please." He asked, making you nod. "Well, I warned you."

"What did you warn me?"

"Your snoring, now I have a king of the seas to take down." he laughed when he saw you mumble. The small pout on your lips was covered with a kiss from him. "I'll see you later love."

Crocodile

warnings: jealous crocodile, as always. Brief appearance of our favorite hawk eyes.

Some things started to make sense when you entered the large hall. As an assistant, you knew that part of the ball was just an excuse to attract some enemies while the other part was to find allies, investors or anyone who could make a relevant contribution to the Cross Guild.

Even though you knew all the planning for the party, you still didn't understand why a long, sparkling dark green dress appeared on your table a few days ago. When you saw one of the evening's hosts, you noticed that - perhaps coincidentally - the two of you's outfits matched.

Waving to some infamous pirates - with rewards that you lost count of digits - little by little you got closer to whoever had provided such an outfit for you.

"I see you liked my gift." Crocodile said as you stopped in front of him. Without hesitating, he took one of your hands and made you do a little turn. "It served as if it was made for you."

"I suspect it was actually made for me, am I right?" you accepted the champagne and with an almost malicious smile you took a brief sip. The two of you lived in a cat and mouse hunt between all the years you had been working together, your feelings for him were clear and at least on one day, you expected to be reciprocated.

"I couldn't afford to let the most beautiful lady of the night go unnoticed, or unaccompanied." He said and for a brief minute, you realized he still hadn't let go of your hand. The awareness of the act seemed to reach him too and in a subtle way, he let his hand fall to his side. "And after so long…"

"After Alabasta, after Impel Down, here we are." you concluded his idea, a sideways smile took over Crocodile. "Everyone begging to be at your feet again."

"I know I'm a little cold, I won't deny that fact, but…" he approached, letting the words come out gently and quietly, as if nothing mattered other than the two of you there. "I'm grateful that all these years you've been by my side."

"And I'm grateful that all these years you allowed me to stay. For taking me out of that miserable life." you just said, reaching out to grab another glass and handing it to him. "Here's to business."

"I'm hoping this is the last toast to business." He tapped the glass against yours, seeing your expression remain in doubt. "I hope our next toast like this, you won't be my assistant anymore. I mean, just my assistant."

"And what do you expect, Sir Crocodile?" you gave him space to approach, stopping just a few inches away.

"Instead of green, maybe you'll wear white. And we sure as hell won't have that bunch of stupid pirates." he pointed out, seeing you smile widely. He raised the cup towards you again. "So, here's to our last night of business?"

"Sorry to interrupt." Mihawk's voice reached you as did his brief touch on your waist.

"I hope it's something important." Crocodile's mild expression faded as he analyzed his business partner and wondered why he was touching you.

"I need your help, miss." he pointed out, turning to you. "An idiot who refuses to take his eyes off you coincidentally owes me a few things. Would you be willing to serve as a little bait?" The groan that came from Crocodile upon hearing Mihawk's proposal to you didn't go unnoticed. "It's just a talk with him."

"Alright, I can help you with that." you agreed, much to your partner's chagrin. You handed your cup to Crocodile and taking advantage of the fact that Mihawk practically covered you from the others' view, you gave Crocodile a quick peck. "Last night of business, okay?" the man just nodded and watched you leave with the other man.

"Mihawk?" he called, seeing Mihawk and you turn towards him. "Let him lay a finger on my girl and I'll have his head and yours on my desk."

King

warnings: cute, very cute. Kind of like OC King, but I can't help but write him being cute. Sorry.

Some companions respected him too much - you analyzed it as pure fear, but you preferred to keep the observation to yourself - however, King did not impose this "fear" on you, quite the opposite.

When you weren't carrying out any of the requested orders, you liked to take your time and observe him. How he seemed to have been sculpted by something that went beyond comparison, how he could be affable when no one was around - this Queen insisted amid acid comments that it was an affection directed only at you.

After a long battle and few scratches distributed throughout the crew, in a more private corner you can see him sitting, patching up a possible injury to his hand. Aside from the bandage and messy hair, he still looked the perfect vision.

"How can I help you?" the words spill out of you without giving you much time to think.

"Don't worry about that."

"That's kind of impossible." you moved even closer, assessing his hand. "It's a small cut, it should heal in a few days."

"It was a small oversight." He shrugged and smoothed the insistent strand of hair that fell into his face.

"Can I help you with this?" you asked and he just nodded, giving you space to work.

Agilely, your fingers reached the stubborn strand and began to adjust it back to where it belonged, that is, the braid that was almost part of it. As soon as you finished, you adjusted it so that it wouldn't fall into his face again.

What went unnoticed by you was how close the two of you were, about how when you looked down you could feel his eyes burning towards you, as they strayed from yours towards your lips.

"Thank you… I mean, how can I thank you for that?" his voice was no more than a brief whisper.

"It is not necessary…"

"I insist." he interrupted you, being graced with the smile he knew on your lips. What he wouldn’t give to let you know what that meant to him.

"A ride then." your answer sounded natural to him, as if the idea crossed your mind with a certain frequency. "I always wanted to see the world from above."

"A ride, sounds amazing to me."

"I knew." Queen's voice interrupted the two of you and you immediately moved away from his body. "I told you that this softie was only soft on you."

"Shut up." King simply said without even looking in the other's direction, his eyes following you to apologize and leave.

How did that idiot Queen feel free to interrupt - and even embarrass - someone so beautiful?

The sun was already setting when you finally finished your tasks for the day and out of everything you could have expected to find in front of you, on your bed, you didn't expect to find a small note.

This way, we cannot be interrupted. Neither on this note nor among the clouds.

I heard that especially tonight the moon and the view from above will be beautiful, not as beautiful as the girl reading this note. Would you like a ride?

Smoker

warnings: mentions of a previous incident, but we have no descriptions, just brief mention of it being traumatic. F!Reader is also in the Navy.

Even without opening your colleague's door, it was almost as if you could see smoke coming through the gaps. Smoker was stressed and that was nothing new, especially when one of his missions went wrong.

"Commander Smoker?" your knocking on the door didn't seem to have caught his attention that much, so you opened a small gap, seeing him typically sitting with two cigars in his hands. "I can enter?"

"Yes." he simply responded, watching you close the door behind you and cross the small space that separated you from his desk.

"Here are some reports from today's mission."

You placed them on the table and you could see him still sulking. You had been working together for too long to know that if possible, Smoker would always let his frustration take over the entire environment - and sometimes it wasn't even in the form of smoke.

"I heard that some stupid pirates gave you a hard time today." you pointed out and saw him just respond with a look, he really wasn't interested in conversation.

A small idea, more like a memory than an idea, crossed your mind and you decided to put it into practice.

"You seem tense." you stated and saw him sigh deeply as you left your gloves on the armchair in front of him.

Without even asking permission - if he didn't want to, you would have at least gotten closer to him, you let your hands slide lightly from his shoulders to the back of his head. It only took a few squeezes for you to start to see him relax. Massaging all over his shoulder and neck, Smoker slowly began to become something more malleable and accessible under your hands.

"Those idiots, if I catch those little shits." he grunted, turning his neck a little to give you more room to work. "And you still ask if I'm tense."

"Some things are impossible to go unnoticed." you let the laughter escape you, a comfort to Smoker's ears. "But you know, sometimes you need to take some time off and relax."

"You say it like you take a lot of time to relax." he turned around, seeing you stick your tongue out. "Some things are impossible to go unnoticed." he repeated to you. "How many nights did you sleep well after that incident?"

"Well, I guess…" you thought for a moment, now your hands were just resting on his shoulders. "To be honest? I think it was only that night that I slept there." you pointed to the armchair on the opposite side. "And of course, in the infirmary. Their medicine is good."

"Don't say things like that." he pointed out, little did you know but the idea of ​​that night still gave him chills.

Letting the affection he had for you guide him, Smoker brought his hand to yours on his shoulder and pulled it, so that your face was level with his.

"I believe we both need to relax." he pointed out, his breathing practically mixing with yours.

"Yeah, we both need it."

You could almost taste Smoker's lips when the door ahead abruptly opened, revealing a panting Tashigi in front of you.

"Commander Smoker!" she started and then stopped, analyzing the situation in front of her eyes. "Do I interrupt something?"

"Don't worry honey, I'm leaving." you pointed out and you could hear Smoker practically grunting in front of you.

"What's so important Tashigi." he didn't bother to let go of your hand, even with the girl's presence, even with your body already standing behind him.

"The pirates from the last mission, someone attacked their ship and they sank, so the team that stayed behind managed to bring them in." Smoker jumped to his feet immediately, picking up the reports you had left on the table.

"You can go, I'll be waiting here." you warned without even waiting for him to ask. As soon as the room was empty, you occupied your favorite armchair and, as you rarely did, you allowed yourself to relax with the aroma of Smoker that still remained in the room.

[lycheeloving]

Why is there almost no Lex Luthor content... I saw him in Young Justice and immediately got inspired lol

Anyways, here's a yandere!Lex Luthor fic, with Superman and Batman trying to rescue you, but do they have good intentions? 👀 (gender neutral reader ofc)

Warnings for mind controlling/altering devices & substances ✌️ and general yandere stuff ofc

You're not the biggest fan of big events with many people, but with Lex at your side, you find you don't really mind anything, even the gala you're currently at.

Holding his hand, you happily watch him as he talks to rich people you couldn't care less about, when he turns to look at you.

You perk up as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You try to lean into it, but he pulls away too fast for your liking. At least you catch a whiff of his scent, he always smells so good...

"Be a doll and get yourself a drink at the bar, would you?"

Ah.

That's code for "we're going to talk about confidential business stuff". Sure. You can spend some time away from him, even if it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. You'll do it for him!

You silently nod, reluctantly let go of his hand and start making your way across the room towards the bar.

As you're leaving, you make out the word "Justice League". They have been giving him trouble recently, is that what their conversation is about? You can never remember what exactly their issue is with him... He's just a CEO!

Unfortunately the bar is out of earshot, so you can't keep listening, which is exactly why he sent you away in the first place, but you sit on a stool from which you can still easily see him.

He always says that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about his boring business stuff, so you don't, but he always looks so good when talking about it! So serious and in charge...

After ordering a fun looking cocktail you sigh, already missing him.

You didn't use to like alcohol, but everything tastes better now that you know him, so you indulge in the occasional drink.

You catch yourself staring at Lex. Maybe you shouldn't look at him this much? What if people think he's weird for dating someone who's this obsessed with him? You don't want that for him, he has so much to deal with already... Swishing your drink around, you try to tear your eyes away from him.

You sigh again.

Somebody slides onto the stool next to you and orders a fancy sounding drink. He turns to you.

"Are you ok? I could hear you sighing from across the room."

"I'm fine... I just miss my boyfriend." You hold back another sigh and absentmindedly trace the rim of your glass.

"Oh, so you came here alone?"

"No, he's over there." You subtly point at him. "He's just talking about some important business stuff without me right now."

"Lex Luthor?" He pulls a face as you nod.

"So you're..." He says your name. Apparently people know you! Huh. You hadn't realized.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way."

Now that he mentions it, you don't know how you didn't notice it before. He is quite famous. You probably should have recognized him, but you were too distracted by how dreamy Lex looks...

"What are you doing with him? I mean, he's not known for being fun. Or kind."

He sounds like he's joking, but you don't think it's funny. Your face turns serious.

"You must not know him very well, then."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Or him, I guess..." He trails off.

Changing the topic with a grin, he says: "I'm guessing that means I don't have a chance with you?"

You shake your head. He can't be serious.

"...What if I shave my head? Would you consider leaving Luthor for me if I was bald?"

You crack a little smile at that. But your answer remains the same.

"No, I wouldn't leave my Lexie for anyone."

His eyes widen. "Oh, wow, so your relationship is pretty serious, then?"

Why would he even ask that?

"Of course it's serious, I love him!"

He pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something.

"...and does he love you?"

You gently touch the spot where Lex last pressed a kiss to your face and look in his direction, only to find he's already looking right back at you. You smile.

"He does." You're sure of it.

Bruce gets up from his chair as Lex starts making his way towards you. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm going to go find someone I actually have a chance with." And avoid a confrontation with Lex.

He winks at you. "Bye!"

You don't say anything back as he leaves, because you're too busy looking at Lex, who's now standing right in front of you. He puts his hands on the bar behind you, caging you in with his arms.

"What did Wayne want from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, nothing important." Already distracted, you reach up to play with his tie.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you not paying attention to him? Good. Can't have you leaving me for him."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, even though you know he's just teasing you.

You would never! He smirks as if he can read your mind.

"Well, I have some more business to attend to. I have informed our driver that he is to take you home whenever you wish, while I will be returning to the office."

You pout at him. "I know your work is important, but please don't take too long. I'll miss you..."

He smirks. "I know, darling. I will hurry back to you."

The kiss he presses to your lips is eagerly reciprocated by you, before he gently pulls your hand away from his tie and goes back to the people he was talking to earlier, vanishing through the door.

No reason to stay here now that he's gone, right? You finish your drink and leave the building, but as you turn to look for your driver, you bump into someone.

You go to apologize, but the other guy is faster.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

His eyes widen and he straightens his glasses.

"Wait! You're Lex Luthors significant other, right?"

You nod with a smile. How lovely that this is what people know you as!

"I'm Clark Kent, with the Daily Planet. I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

Your smile vanishes. "No comment."

Lex told you that no matter what you say, reporters twist it in a way that makes you look bad, and that it's best not to engage.

He seems a bit disappointed at your quick response. "That's fair. But off the record, can I just ask how you met him? As far as I know, you weren't a part of these circles before you showed up on his arm one day."

"Off record?"

He nods.

You think you can trust him, at least with some of it.

"We met at my workplace. I used to be a barista."

Not knowing how to make it sound nice, you leave out the part where you thought he was rude to your coworker and reprimanded him, and how you only grudgingly agreed to go on a date with him because he cornered you after work and threatened to get your coworker fired if you refused.

But it was all a big misunderstanding! During that first date you realized that you really like him and that he's a really good guy!

He just didn't know how else you'd agree to go out with him after you were so angry at the beginning!

"So it was love at first sight?" Kent questions.

"Not first sight, maybe, but I knew he was the one during our first date. It just... felt so right."

Lex, of course, did know at first sight, but he's always been smarter than you, so it's not a surprise that he caught on more quickly.

"Well, thanks for the conversation. I'm going to find someone I can actually interview now, so my boss doesn't get too mad at me. Bye!"

He stumbles towards the building, bumping into someone else. What a clumsy guy! You catch him looking at you again before he enters through the door.

You finally make your way to the driver and get into the limo, driving home in silence.

Time for a lonely night without Lex...

After you get home and get ready for bed, you put on one of his shirts and go to sleep on his side of the bed.

That way you'll definitely wake up when he returns, because he refuses to sleep on your side. He'll have to get you out of the way somehow, probably pick you up...

Burying your face in his pillow where his scent is the strongest, you fall asleep.

A noise from the direction of Lex's home office wakes you up.

You're still on his side of the bed. Did he come home and keep working? Seriously? Maybe he'll let you sit in his lap while he finishes whatever he's doing...

Quietly walking towards his room, you hear low voices. Is Lex on a call? In the middle of the night?

As you make it to the entrance, you can finally make out words. It's not Lex.

"-only let you come because you said you could be stealthy. If I knew you'd be this loud, I would have come here alone."

You sneak a look around the door. Is that Batman? And-

"This is my city, and I know Luthor better than anyone, that's why I came along. Besides, I didn't make that much noise!"

-Superman!

You take a step back. Where is the button that alarms security again...? Next to the bed, right? You start making your way back to the bedroom, but...

"We have company."

You're almost at the button, try to start running towards it, but Superman is in front of you before you can blink. Shit.

"Sorry, can't let you inform anyone that we're here, we still haven't gotten everything we came for!"

He actually looks apologetic. What is wrong with him? Breaking into your home, but pretending to feel bad about it?

He holds onto both of your arms and leads you back into the office, where Batman is tinkering with Lex's computer. What could they be looking for?

"Well, if you're here already, we might as well ask you directly. What do you know about Luthor's mind-controlling technology?" Batman asks you.

Mind-controlling? What would Lex need that for?

"I- I think you've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who usually would never cooperate with Luthor have started working for him, so I got suspicious. After some research I was able to figure out that he uses microchips to control them. But we haven't been able to figure out how to extract them without causing damage to the person they've been installed in."

Batman takes a step towards you.

"So I'll ask one more time. What do you know?"

You really have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wh- What would Lex even use that for? I don't understand!"

"Batman, are you sure they know anything? We're already 99% sure there's a chip inside of them as well, maybe one of its effects is not remembering anything about the chips?"

"It was worth a try." Batman turns to look at Superman. "I assume this means you haven't checked for a chip yet? Make yourself useful and use your x-ray vision."

"Oh, right! Right..." Superman mumbles. "No need to be rude about it."

He focuses his gaze on you. It's pretty unnerving, knowing he's looking inside of you. There's nothing you could hide from him, nothing you could do to make him stop looking at you. You hope he's really only looking inside of you...

After looking at you for too long for comfort, he chimes up: "Yep, there's a chip! Right in the shoulder."

Of course there's a chip in your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're being controlled!

"That's just a tracker! Lex put it there in case I'm ever kidnapped or something, so he'll immediately know where I am!"

"...You let him put a tracker in you? Voluntarily?" Superman seems confused.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?" You're confused as well. Why wouldn't you let him? He did it because he loves you! To take care of you!

Batman doesn't seem to care, only humming in acknowledgement and going back to fiddling with the computer.

That reminds you that Lex put another gadget on you...

Your necklace (beautiful, expensive, and of the letters "LL") sends him a discreet emergency signal as soon as you take it off! You just need to be able to reach it...

"Um... Superman?" You crane your neck to look up at him.

"Do you have to hold onto me like that? I mean, just, what could I do to get away, right?"

You look up at him and try to look as confused and innocent as possible.

You glance at Batman. He seems to not be interested in your conversation at all, instead focusing on the computer. Good.

"You're fast enough to immediately catch me, before I could even take a tiny step! Just- This position is kind of awkward to be in, right?"

Please fall for it, please fall for it...

"Sure, you've been pretty cooperative so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about with you..."

He chuckles, almost embarrassed, then reluctantly lets go of his hold on your arms, flexing his hands.

Holy shit. It worked.

"Nice, thanks!" You smile. What an idiot.

Now you just have to play it cool...

Act natural and normal and not like you're up to anything...

You reach up to rub your neck, as if having turned it to look up at Superman strained it.

Well, it did, but you're mostly doing it to get your hands near the necklace. And now you just have to-

The necklace opens with a quiet click, followed by an alarm sounding from the computer.

Right. You forgot it sends a signal to all of Lex's technology, including the computer in this room. Oops.

Oh well, doesn't really make a difference if they're aware that you alarmed Lex or not. What could they do about it now?

Both Superman's and Batman's heads snap towards you. You smile. Lex should be on his way now.

"Superman, why would you let go of-" Batman cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. I have the information we came here for. Let's go."

"Are we just going to leave them here?" Superman sounds concerned.

Batman walks towards you, holding something up to your face. "No."

It smells weird, what is that? You feel dizzy, try to pull your head away from it, but Batman is holding onto you, you can't move.

Then, everything goes black.

You wake up on a bed in a bright, unfamiliar room with an ache in your shoulder.

There's a bandage in the spot where your tracker is. Or, used to be, you assume.

Rude of them, to dig around in your body without your permission.

Lex will freak out when he hears about this. He must be looking for you already.

What is this, some kind of infirmary? Where exactly are you?

Just when you decide to get up and try to leave or find out more about where you are, Superman enters the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" He gently pushes you to lie back down. You don't object, you know how strong he is, even if he is being careful right now.

"You shouldn't get up yet, your body should still be adjusting to the chip being gone."

He looks at you with curiosity. Or with hope? You can't quite tell what his expression means.

"Which, by the way, do you feel any different? About Luthor? Any memories popping up that you couldn't remember before?"

Now that he mentions it, some of your time with Lex seems... clearer. You suddenly remember the whole chip thing. And that he's constantly trying to fight (and kill) Superman and the rest of the Justice League. And a bunch of immoral business choices. And villain stuff.

But you still love him.

"I don't feel any different."

Lex must have had a good reason to block those memories from your mind.

Maybe it was for exactly this scenario, so that if the Justice League kidnapped you, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything! Unfortunately they were able to restore those memories, but that doesn't mean that you have to tell them that and make it easier for them!

Superman looks disappointed. "Oh... That's unfortunate."

Why does he seem to be so invested in this? Just because he hates Lex? What does he care if Lex is in a relationship, that shouldn't concern him at all!

"So can I go now?" You throw your legs over the side of the bed and sit up again.

"I mean, now that you know that I wasn't influenced by that chip? You can't keep me here, that would be kidnapping!"

It already is kidnapping, technically.

"Sorry, I can't let you leave." He doesn't look super apologetic about this.

"Batman is still working on something."

"I'm done working on it, actually," Batman responds.

Wait, when did Batman get here? You didn't hear him enter the room...

Superman perks up. "And did you find anything?"

"I did." Batman turns to you, his expression even more serious than usual.

"Blood tests revealed that you are affected by a toxin that messes with your pheromones. After digging through more information on Luthors computer, I was able to find correspondence between him and Poison Ivy. Apparently they made a concoction that is specific to your dna, meaning only you are affected by it, and it causes you to be attracted to him alone. He must have used it as an aftershave or perfume, but it seems pretty long lasting. The effects should last up to a month after exposure."

No. That can't be true.

"You're lying. Lex wouldn't do that. He had no reason to do that, I love him!"

Batman ignores you. "Luckily I was able to synthesize an antidote. Hold still."

You don't hold still, of course, trying to scramble off of the bed, but Superman holds onto you.

"Shhhh, calm down. You'll feel better soon," he whispers, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.

Batman gets closer to you with a syringe, preparing to inject you with a green liquid.

"This is going to hurt."

"Wait!" you try to protest, but-

-you feel the syringe enter your skin, and then you feel pain. In your entire body.

It hurts! Why does it hurt so much!

You squirm in Superman's grip. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

There's nothing but pain for a few seconds that feel like eternity.

But then- nothing.

You feel nothing. No pain. And-

"Holy shit." You blink.

"Holy SHIT."

What did that fucker do to you?

"I was in a relationship with Lex Luthor? Why did nobody stop me! What is wrong with everyone!"

You blink again.

"I mean, I guess you stopped me. So... thank you?"

Superman lets go of you, seemingly content that you've come to your senses.

Batman seems to be holding back a smirk.

You're not done processing everything yet.

"Why would he-"

You forget what you were going to say and gasp, distracted by a new thought.

"Wait, what the fuck am I going to do now! Where can I go? I moved in with him and he made me break off contact with all of my friends! I don't have an apartment anymore or friends to stay with!"

You look at the two heroes. "D- Do you think he'll look for me? Probably, right? I mean, we were going to get married."

You feel sick.

"Wait, is an engagement legally binding? Fuck. Can I just leave? We didn't make it public yet, but that doesn't make a difference, right? Fuck!"

Superman puts his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that. We won't allow him anywhere near you ever again."

Batman adds on: "And you can stay in the Watchtower for now. That's the safest place for you. He won't manage to get in here."

You frown. "Are you sure that's ok? I don't want to be a burden..."

Superman's smile gets wider, it's almost creepy.

Batman moves closer to you, putting his hand on your other shoulder. You're starting to feel a bit smothered.

"We'll gladly take care of you. For however long it takes."

You wonder if that means forever.

[hyunniesgirl]

My cat likes you

Pairing: Lee Know x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: your cat is behaving strangely lately and a walk outside your apartment shows you exactly why.

Warnings: none

A/N: I saw a video on Instagram with a cat rubbing on the floor when they saw a cute guy and I was like "why is this so Lee Know coded?" And had to make something like that with him heheheh

It's been a few days since your cat started behaving strangely, she'll wake you up early in the morning meowing at your room’s door. At first you thought she did that because she was hungry, but when you put food in her bowl she ignores it and keeps meowing.

You realized then, that she wanted you to follow her as she twirled and rubbed on the floor. She would wait for you at the door and would keep scratching it, waiting for you to open it.

“It's too early for a walk, Bo-mi”, you tell her, shaking your head and turning around, going back to your bed to try and sleep a little bit more before work.

She keeps insisting on the early morning walks, but you don't give in, you can't have her get used to going out when it's still time for you to be sleeping.

After a few days, Bo-mi starts having that same behavior late at night, when you are already in bed, ready to go to sleep. She meows for minutes straight until you get up and walk with her to the door.

“Bo-mi, we can't go out now, I'm already in my pjs”, you sigh, patting her. But she keeps scratching the door and meowing for you to go out. “Tomorrow is Friday, okay? So I can stay up late to take you out for a walk”, you tell her before going back to your room.

You spend the next day trying to figure out why she's acting this way. You think about the possibility of her being sick, but she's eating and drinking water normally and she's sleeping the same amount as she always did. Her last check up wasn't even two months ago, even so, you should definitely make an appointment with the veterinarian.

You arrive at home and Bo-mi comes running to you, purring and rubbing herself on you. After you pet her, she goes back to the couch, getting comfortable there again, she doesn't even try to go to the door. Why does she just want to go out when it's late? Or early in the morning? It’s just strange.

Thinking too much about it won't help you find out what's going on, so you give up on the thoughts and just go to the bathroom to take a shower and put on some comfortable clothes since you have to take the lady of the house for a walk in a few hours.

Everything kind of makes sense when you open the door and Bo-mi goes running to the corridor, however, she stops at your neighbor's door, sniffing a bit. The sound of the elevator takes you out of your thoughts and your cat walks in that direction finding a strange man coming out of the elevator.

He looks at her and smiles, trying to go past her but she throws herself in the ground, showing her belly to him and rubbing herself on the floor.

Before you can speak, the guy bends down, petting and making her meow. You look at your watch to see that he's arriving at the exact time that Bo-mi tries going out every night. The weirdest thing is that she hates strangers, especially men.

“I’m sorry”, you finally get out of your head to say something, “she has been acting strangely lately”

“It's okay”, he says, without looking at you. Hypnotized by your cat's little meows and cuteness. “I actually saw her on the balcony one of these days, but couldn't pet her because of the distance”, he chuckles. “What's her name?”

He finally looks at you when asking that and for a moment it seems like the world stops for the both of you. He's the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life, with cute boba eyes and an innocent look.

“It's Bo-mi”, you tell him, feeling your cheeks a bit warm.

He clears his throat, petting your cat for the last time before standing up again, fixing his clothes. He didn't look at you at first, but you are so pretty it actually left him speechless and that is a hard thing to achieve. He was even going to make a joke about cats, but couldn't even manage to get that out while looking at your face.

“I'm sorry to ask, but do you also go out around five a.m.?” You ask out of nowhere, making him look at you suspiciously.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I think my cat is in love with you”, you tell him, pointing at Bo-mi, rubbing herself on his legs. “She always tries to go out around five in the morning or at this time of the night, I guess she wanted to see you again”

You really understand Bo-mi on that, you would also want to see him everyday if you had the chance.

“Oh”, he smiles, “I'm Minho by the way, I moved here two weeks ago”, he says pointing to his apartment.

“I'm y/n”, you give your hand for him to shake, “I know it's weird to ask this, but can I bring her out sometimes so she can see you?” You ask, shyly, making Minho chuckle.

“Yeah”, he nods, “maybe you can also meet my cats”, he says, feeling his ears warming up. “I mean, in a housewarming party, of course”, he completes.

“I would love that”, you smile and he feels like he could melt just with that, “I'll take her home now”, you catch Bo-mi in your arms even though she struggles to get out of your grasp and go back to Minho, “I'll wait excitedly to meet your cats”

Minho watches you go into your apartment, waving to him before closing the door. Now, how the hell does a housewarming party even work?

[fifty555]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ poetry? no, pottery!

a lil’ love between you and little lando norris 💞 with a twist as you’re a ceramist/potterer!

content warning; none! just enjoy the fluffs! ah, there’s a bit of explicit language (i think?), but nothing drastic! enjoy 😽!

summary; childhood friends reconnect after years apart—he’s a formula 1 driver, and you’re a ceramist.

hey, lover! part two here!

Lando Norris was used to his friends teasing him. Whether it was his golfing misadventures, his love for Twitch streams, or his occasional emotional outbursts on team radio, there was always something to make him the subject of banter on and off the grid. But the one thing they had yet to figure out—something that he was genuinely proud of—was the pottery.

It started innocuously enough. A vase here, a decorative bowl there. The other drivers had assumed Lando had simply developed a newfound taste for ceramic art after moving to Monaco. Carlos had even joked once, “You’re just trying to look posh, mate.”

But no one had noticed the small etchings at the back of each piece: a simple ‘Lan’ with a heart. Subtle, personal, and not exactly the kind of thing you’d put on items for sale. That mystery had lingered until one fateful evening when everything unravelled in the most chaotic way imaginable.

It was post-race at Silverstone, and the whole grid had gathered for dinner at a private venue. Spirits were high after a spectacular British Grand Prix, with plenty of laughs and, naturally, plenty of friendly ribbing.

Lando sat beside Oscar, carefully monitoring his phone, knowing full well that at any moment you might call. You were in your apartment in Mexico, finalising details for an art exhibit while simultaneously working on personal pottery commissions. Lando adored how dedicated you were to your craft, even if it often left you so absorbed that you forgot things—like where you’d placed your keys, or, as he was about to find out, something a little more important.

Amid the loud chatter, Lando’s phone buzzed, and your name flashed on the screen. Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey, love,” he greeted, but before he could say anything else, your panicked voice filled the room.

“Lan, I lost my ring! I don’t know where it is!”

Shoot, he forgot about the speaker.

The room fell eerily silent as the unmistakable sound of your frantic cries echoed from the speaker.

Lando froze. His brain short-circuited as he realised his phone was still on speaker. Every single driver at the table—except for Oscar, Alex, and George—was staring at him like he’d just confessed to murder.

“Oh, for fu—” Lando scrambled to turn off the speaker, but not before you continued, “Baby, I don’t know where it is! I can’t even—”

He interrupted, voice strained with embarrassment. “Have you checked the wet clays? That’s usually where you’d lose it.”

The line went quiet for a second as the realisation hit you. “Shit. I’ll go check. Thanks, love. Enjoy your dinner with the boys, bye!” You ended the call abruptly, leaving Lando to deal with the aftermath.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel was the first to break the silence, leaning forward with a grin that practically screamed mischief.

“No, who the fuck was that?” Max followed, his bluntness cutting through the rising chaos like a hot knife through butter.

The room erupted in questions. Pierre was halfway across the table, trying to pry answers from Lando, while Charles was practically yelling over everyone else. Meanwhile, Carlos gave Lando a pointed look. “Mate, don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend and you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Lando’s cheeks burned as he fumbled to explain. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Charles’ voice reached a pitch that only dogs could hear. “You’ve been holding out on us! Who is she?”

Amidst the chaos, Alex calmly took a sip of his drink and glanced at Charles. “You’ve met her before.”

“I have?” Charles frowned, genuinely confused.

George pulled out his phone, scrolled through his photos, and handed it over. “Here, this’ll jog your memory.”

The photo showed George, Alex, and you at a karting event years ago, laughing over slices of pizza. You were unmistakable, even with the short haircut and boyish charm you used to sport.

And the fact that you used to terrorise Charles on the grid.

Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re telling me that demon is Lando’s—”

“Fiancée,” Lando corrected with a smug grin, cutting him off. “She’s my fiancée.”

If the table had been chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the uproar that followed.

“Fiancée?!” Charles looked moments away from fainting. Pierre had to physically restrain him from climbing over the table.

Max, ever the straight shooter, raised a brow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since October 2020,” Lando admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.

“You kept this a secret for three years?” Daniel looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “And all we got were vases?”

“Wait,” Carlos interjected, pointing a finger at Lando. “The pottery—don’t tell me that’s her doing?”

Lando smirked, finally finding his footing in the conversation. “Actually, most of it’s hers. But I helped with a few pieces.”

“Explains the hearts,” Pierre muttered, earning a round of laughter.

Meanwhile, back in your studio, you’d found the missing engagement ring embedded in a chunk of wet clay. You snapped a quick photo of your clay-covered hands, the ring perched delicately on your finger, and sent it to Lando with the message: Found it. Your forgetfulness is rubbing off on me.

Lando responded with a selfie of his own, a defeated look on his face, and the message: The cat’s out of the bag.

You could only laugh, imagining the absolute carnage he was dealing with at dinner.

Now, the question is, how did you guys meet?

Well, let’s take a trip down memory lane, yes?

It started at a karting track in Guildford when they were both nine years old. Lando was already making waves on the circuit, a scrappy kid with untamed curls and an infectious grin. You, on the other hand, were a quiet but fiercely competitive racer, constantly being told you’d never make it because you were a girl.

That day, your paths crossed in the most cliché yet heartwarming way. You’d crashed during qualifying and sat on the sidelines, fuming as you inspected the damaged kart. Lando, fresh off his own session, wandered over with a bag of gummy bears and an awkward grin.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag out to you.

You glanced up, unimpressed. “Unless it fixes my kart, no thanks.”

“It doesn’t,” he admitted, plopping one into his mouth, “but they’re good for sulking.”

Reluctantly, you took one. That was all it took. From that day forward, you became friends—rivals on the track, co-conspirators off it. The karting world was small, and you often found yourselves travelling the same circuits, sharing snacks, and occasionally teaming up to prank the other kids.

But all good things come to an end, and for Lando, the end came when you abruptly quit karting at twelve. One day you were there, racing alongside him, and the next, you were gone. No explanations, no goodbyes—just a void where his fiercest rival and closest friend had been.

Years passed. Lando threw himself into racing, climbing the ranks to Formula 1, but he never stopped wondering what had happened to you. He’d hear whispers—something about pottery, about you exchanging one love for another—but nothing concrete.

Then, in 2020, he walked into a pop-up art gallery in London and froze. There, amidst a sea of ceramic sculptures, was a name he hadn’t seen in years: yours. And standing by a display of hand-thrown vases, chatting animatedly with a small group of people, was you.

Lando hesitated, heart pounding as he watched you laugh, looking so effortlessly radiant it hurt. He was a world-famous F1 driver now, but at that moment, he felt like the same awkward boy offering gummy bears to his angry rival.

Finally, he worked up the courage to approach you. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Nice vases.”

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, as if no time had passed at all, you grinned. “Nice curls.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always had. Over coffee the next day, you explained why you’d quit karting. Your parents had pulled you out, worried about the pressure and the toxic environment you were facing as a girl in a male-dominated sport. You’d turned to pottery as an outlet and never looked back.

“I missed it, though,” you admitted, stirring your latte. “I missed racing. I missed… you.”

Lando’s heart clenched. “I missed you too.”

The transition from friendship to romance was seamless, almost inevitable. But given Lando’s high-profile career, you both agreed to keep the relationship private. It wasn’t easy. There were stolen weekends in Monaco, secret visits to your studio in between London and Mexico, and countless moments when you had to play it cool in public, even as your heart raced every time you saw him.

The secrecy was worth it, though. For three years, you built a world of your own, filled with laughter, late-night phone calls, and the kind of love that felt steady and enduring.

The proposal came during a quiet evening at your studio. You’d been working on a commission, hands covered in clay, when Lando appeared in the doorway, looking unusually nervous.

“What’s up?” you asked, wiping your hands on a rag.

He hesitated, then held out a small, unassuming box. “I, uh, thought we could make this official.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Lando Norris, are you asking me to marry you in the middle of my studio while I’m covered in clay?”

He grinned, the familiar boyish charm shining through. “Well, I figured it’s where you’re happiest.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Laughing, you took the box, opened it, and saw the ring—simple, elegant, and unmistakably you. Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes.”

For a while, life went on as usual. You returned to your pottery, Lando to his racing, and your engagement remained a secret known only to close family and a few trusted friends. But secrets have a way of slipping out, and yours did during that fateful post-Silverstone dinner.

By the time Lando returned home to Monaco, the internet was ablaze. He’d soft-launched your engagement on Instagram with a series of photos: your clay-covered hands holding the ring, more of you holding your ring in defeat after possibly losing it, and a final shot of the infamous ‘Lan ♥’ signature on one of your vases.

The caption read: ladies and gents, the chronicles of my fiancée losing her ring. she says that my forgetfulness is rubbing off on her apparently but she sadly chose to say yes to me 😌.

The response was overwhelming. Fans went wild over the reveal, speculating about your relationship timeline and falling in love with the wholesome chaos of it all.

Despite the initial embarrassment, Lando wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, Charles might never let him live it down, and Daniel would probably bring up the ‘wet clay incident’ at every opportunity, but none of it mattered.

As he watched you work on your latest piece, the soft hum of music filling the studio, he felt a sense of peace he rarely found anywhere else. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him staring, and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Back to work, Mr. Norris,” you teased, pointing at the pottery wheel.

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you. “Yes, ma’am.”

If this was what forever looked like, Lando was more than ready for it.

Because in the end, every gummy bear, every secret, and every chaotic dinner had been worth it.

i hope you guys liked it 🥹 tbh, this was originally a gift for my friend to motivate her but now she wants to actually marry him… i take no part in that declaration.

also, this y’all man 🤨☝🏻 damn, he’s okay, i guess.

i’m still very new here, so, there’s some things i absolutely know nothing about… BUT, i’ll get through it ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-!! i love y’all, strangers ‘round the internet 💌 MWAH!

[happy74827]

Butterflies

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You know you’re screwed when you feel them fluttering in your chest {GIF Creds: jeysuso}.

WC: 717

Category: Fluff

For all my Harvey lovers out there, I made a cute fluffy quickie (I’m seeing a lot of my fics being swarmed with love so why not add to it 🤗)

『••✎••』

It happened over a bottle of bourbon. A spilled bottle, actually. But a bottle of bourbon nonetheless, and that is important to note.

You didn’t mean to spill the alcohol all over your date, but he had made some comment about how you shouldn't be wearing a dress with a plunging neckline, so you just… happened to tip the entire thing over him.

The man was furious, of course, but he left pretty quickly after that. And you were left with a mess on the floor and a waiter hovering at the side, asking if you wanted another bottle.

You told him no. You just wanted to go home.

You didn't want a new date; you didn't want to sit at this stupid table with the stupid white tablecloth, the stupid, gaudy candlesticks, or the stupid waiter with the stupid, expectant look on his face.

"Miss?"

"No, thank you," you say, a little more firmly, gathering up your things and leaving as much cash as you can on the table. If you were smart, you'd have brought an umbrella, but you're not smart, so you'll just get drenched like an idiot.

But, fortunately for you, the person calling your name knew you well enough to know you weren’t that smart.

Before a drop of water could even hit your hair, a tall, dark figure steps out in front of you and blocks the downpour. Some might consider this a gentlemanly action, but you knew the man, and he was hardly ever gentle.

"You're welcome," Harvey says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're a pain," you reply, but you're grateful for the cover.

"And you're dateless. So, I see two options: we can have dinner and a drink back at my place, or we can do dinner and a drink back at mine."

You can't help but laugh. "Did you use this on Scottie? I see why she left. That line was bad."

"You're not going to ask how I knew you were here?"

"Nope. You probably had Louis stalk me."

"Don't talk about the puppy like that."

"So you did have him stalk me!"

"I prefer the term 'make sure you were alright,'" Harvey replies, and he holds out his arm to you. "Guy was a douche. Let me buy you dessert to make up for it. And I don’t mean in the biblical sense, although that can be arranged, too, if you'd like."

"Harvey, you’re such—"

You turned to him, ready to tell him exactly what you thought of him, but the words died when you met his eyes. Those same eyes that allured you into taking his offer at Pearson Hardman. The same eyes that made you agree to work with him on the case despite your better judgment.

In a flash, you saw the whole thing: your first meeting, the cases, the laughs, the looks, the touches. And now, the moment.

When you were younger, the term butterflies had never really made sense to you. The idea of feeling them in your stomach seemed ridiculous, and yet, there you were, feeling them for the very first time.

They were all fluttering around inside of you, and all you could think was, "Oh, no."

And as if the universe had heard you, it suddenly stopped raining, and you both stood there in the middle of the street, the moon casting a warm light on your faces.

Harvey noticed it, too, and his expression softened. His usual cockiness was replaced with a gentle concern. "You okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Yeah."

Harvey reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his hand lingering a moment longer than it needed to. He gave you that signature grin and asked, "You look like a velvet cake kind of girl. Am I right?"

He was right.

Goddamnit, he was right.

And as he swaddled you in his coat to keep you warm as you both went back inside, the anger and confusion you felt earlier melted into a quiet, warm glow.

Date night had not gone according to plan, but when his lips met yours and your hands slid through his soft, brown hair, you realized that, perhaps, sometimes, it was good to deviate from the plan.

The butterflies seemed to agree.

[froggiewrites]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff,  and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it.  He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.