#she is sweet and kind and funny and strong

[thisblogdoesnotexisg]

silverborn spoilers ahead

i think Meredith "Malcontent" Crow, rebellious and keen-spirited as ever, would have smiled if she read all the mean letters that Morrigan had scrawled and never sent. seeing the daughter that had taken near nothing from her in looks carry on that defiant streak she had been so well known for would have given her more than a little pleasure.

[awesomebutunpractical]

After several years, I found Benny the Watchdog's hook. He's one of those "wife guy" personality types in addition to being a wanna be brown-noser. His wife is a closely guarded secret he REALLY wants to talk about, but she's currently part of an Anti-Hater Rebel Cell.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[sskk-manifesto]

MITCHELL AKUTAGAWA EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!

[valentina-writes]

Here's an idea for a Azriel x reader fanfic if you're interested! Azriels mate is pregnant and she is a cauldron made high fae. While he's away on a mission. She is taken by his half brothers and put in the cell he spent the early years of his life. Azriel must go rescue her. We love a protective azriel

no grave (can hold my body down)

Azriel x reader

summary: shortly after you find out you're pregnant with Azriel's baby, two illyrians kidnap you on a mission. But it turns out they're not strangers, after all.

warnings: physical violence, predatory behavior, pregnancy, hurt/comfort

genre: angst, (a bit of fluff) | words: 4.3k | masterlist

A/N: Thanks for the idea, anon! Funny enough, I was thinking about opening requests again when this came in (I'll update you on that soon). I really hope you like it ;)

It was a routine mission, nothing more. A quick trip to the illyrian steppes to gather healing herbs, at your own request. To free your head. You had done this countless times, winnow in, pick herbs, winnow out. But not this time.

You were crouched in a meadow, trying to identify the many plants. Every now and then, you pulled out a little booklet with descriptions of the herbs you were looking for, comparing them. But your mind was elsewhere. This morning, Madja had visited you, after weeks of feeling unwell, vomiting and utter exhaustion. Her beaming smile, the wrinkles forming in the corners of her eye, had been a shock, much like her words. You're pregnant, dear.

Pregnant. And instead of being excited, you had felt sick to your stomach and immediately fled from Velaris before Azriel returned from his own mission. And here you were now. It wasn't that you didn't want this baby, or that you were scared Azriel would be anything but elated. But it would change your lives so drastically, so suddenly.

You quietly hummed a sweet melody to yourself. What would he say? What would you do?

Over your song, you didn't hear the birds stop chirping and the wind stilling. Lost in thought, you kept hacking away at the plants before you.

"Who do we have here?". You stilled and then turned, drawing your knife.

It was Azriel standing before you, your beautiful mate. You let your knife sink. His big wings were folded against his back, his soft dark hair blowing in the breeze. You opened your mouth in surprise. He stepped closer. "If that isn't little Y/N".

Why was he here? Why was he talking like this? He was unlike himself, but you couldn't quite make it out. Something about him was different, you mused. Your gaze wandered over him, trying to understand. The wind stilled, and then you saw it. There were no shadows. And the hand, hovering over the knife, that wasn't truth-teller, was unmarked.

You bolted, dropping the pouch you had gathered the herbs in. That had been the first lection Azriel had ever given you. Run. Bring as much distance between you and the opponent as you can and then winnow.

Five steps. That was how far you got, because right before you, another illyrian dropped from the sky. He looked less like Azriel, but the similarity was still startling. So much that you lost a precious second staring at him. A second he used to grab your arms in place and throw away your knife. And he blew something into your face, a kind of powder that left a heavy metallic tang in your nostrils. Faebane. Strong hands gripped you by your neck from behind.

"My favorite sister in law", Azriel's brother before you crooned, "what a shame the invitations for the mating ceremony got lost. I would've loved to see the bastard-union". The faebane burned in your nose and in your mouth. The grip of the male behind you was so strong around your neck that you were fighting for each intake of breath, trying to cough out as much of the poison as possible.

Don't panic, you thought to yourself, fighting to stay composed. You gathered all of your magic, tried to fold the cosmos and step right into the next world. You imagined the old woods and fields of fire-like flowers and gathered all your energy. But the power escaped your grasp. It wasn't enough to winnow. Not to a different world, not to Velaris, not even to the other side of the meadow. The power inside you had dwindled into a small spark.

And the bond. The mating bond inside your chest numbed down, its glow being cast into darkness. You grasped at it, but it escaped your reach. With your last spark of power, you grapped the bond, refused to let go, even when it ran tight and fickle, and tugged. Hard. Harder than ever and only let go when the bond went fully dark.

"You will die". They didn't expect you to fight. The surprise was on your side when you kneed the one in front of you straight in the groin. His eyes widened and the warrior dropped to his knees, but still wouldn't let go. A second kick made him groan, dropping his arms and cursing under his breath. But there was no way you could shrug off the other one, his hands still tight around your neck. Not without the knife. You clawed at his hands, kicked at him, but he was just too big and you were too exhausted. Your cauldron-given powers were stolen from you. Under normal circumstances they would've been dead the second they laid hands on you. Not today.

He was hard against you now. Bile rose up in your throat at the feeling of him rubbing against you. "What a feisty little bitch you are", he whispered into your ear. And then he squeezed your neck hard and the world turned dark.

It was dark around you. A blackness so infinite you couldn't make out your own hand engulfed you. You had no recollection how you got here. The stone floor you lay on was nastily cold and wet, draining any warmth from your body. Any energy from you and the baby. The baby. Your hand shot to your stomach and chains rattled on the floor at the movement. They had shackled you. The cuffs were ice-cold around your wrists and so tight it hurt. A whimper escaped your lips. With soft strokes, you caressed your stomach. How unfair it was for this little baby. In a few weeks, you would start to show, you realized. You forbid yourself imagining what Azriel's brothers would do to your unborn child if they found out.

You sat upright. The chains that bound you to the wall allowed you to move through the cell. You explored every inch of it. There was nothing but cold stone and a bucket to relieve yourself. No door. Not even a window. This was the place Azriel had spent his childhood in, you were sure of it. He seldom talked about this time period. But from what you knew, from what he screamed during his nightmares and afterwards whispered to you, gasping for breath, this was it. Now, often you woke up screaming, too, haunted by dreams of a little winged boy sharing your cell. But you didn't allow yourself to cry. Not once.

Had he even felt the last tug you had given the bond? Azriel was on the continent, as far as you knew. Maybe your magic had been too weak, the distance too far. There was no way of knowing whether he was aware that you were gone. But then again, you tried to console yourself, Rhys knew exactly where you had last been. They will rescue me, you repeated again and again. They will find me.

You couldn't tell how much time had passed already. In the beginning, you screamed and shouted and tugged on the shackles, so hard the skin rubbed away and left a bloody mess. Every now and then, you tried reaching for the bond, for your mate. But it was gone, just like your powers.

The only thing that disturbed the emptiness of the cell was stale bread and water. Sometimes it seemed like not even an hour had passed between meals, sometimes it felt like days. The food was poisoned, you were sure. But, after a few days, hunger won over all else, and you ate the faebane. Everytime you ate, you prayed to the Mother. Not the baby. Let it survive. Don't let the poison affect it.

There was no way to tell the time, not even a sound from outside the cell reached you, but more than a week must have passed before they came to see you. Light broke the dark void. Violent beams of it hit your eyes, blinding you almost entirely after - what? - days? weeks? in the darkness. You had no clue how long you had been here already.

"How is little Y/N?", a deep voice sounded. His face was unrecognizable, so blinded were you, but it was the one you had kicked in the balls, you were fairly certain. His tone was pure mockery. "Tired of this yet?"

You wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing your distress. "What do you want?"

"See how my little bastard sister in law is doing, of course".

"If you're so concerned for my wellbeing, maybe you shouldn't have put me in a cell"

"No, I think you're exactly where you belong. Where he also belongs". Your heart twisted. Azriel had spent years in this cell. Images of his child-self forced its way into your mind. His hands, freshly burned and torturingly painful. His wings, useless and limp because they had never taught him to use them. You slowly breathed in. Now you needed to be strong for all three of you. Not despair.

"Let me go. I haven't done anything to you. I don't even know you. Let me out"

"You're right. But word says not only the Archeron sisters came out of the Cauldron and took something from it. That when you were made you bargained with the Mother herself and she loved you so much she gave you a power like no other". Your blood ran cold. Thoughts of the day you came out of the Cauldron swirled through your head. Azriel's face as he watched in horror, half-dead. The bond snapping immediately. The Mother. The gift.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to offer a bargain myself". You didn't answer. It was clear what he wanted.

He tried once again. "What is it that the cauldron gifted you? That has the high lord make the mountains shake in rage at your disappearance?". Finally, you could make out his face. You studied him quietly. His face was twisted into a sneer, eyes dead. There was no empathy in his gaze, no sign of remorse. And it didn't seem to occur to him that Rhys would always go to the end of the world to rescue his brother's mate, no matter their power.

You stilled, thinking. He didn't even know what powers you possessed exactly. Was it all an act of speculation?

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye. His grip was so strong it brought tears to your eyes. "Answer me, bitch"

"Maybe you should've investigated on my powers before throwing me in your little dungeon", you hissed. He dropped your head immediately. His big hand met your face with a thundering bang, so hard the back of your head met the stone wall with a sickening thud. A pained gasp left your lips. Your cheek burned where he had striked and your skull. Your skull was ringing, throbbing so hard you saw stars and a wet patch formed at the back of it. Hot, blazing pain killed every thought in your head but one. Not the baby.

"All talk, no bite", he chuckled and kneeled down before you. "Let me get this straight. You service me and my brother with your power and in exchange you get to leave the cell". It was such a shitty bargain, under normal circumstances you would've laughed. But all you could do was sob at the pain blooming in your skull, the sounds of it ricocheting off the walls.

Another voice, right at the trap door. The other brother. "Try not to kill her"

The male before you retreated.

"Leave her. She will come to her senses soon".

They left you there, bleeding on the floor. No healer came. The wound stopped bleeding after a while, but the throbbing pain remained. You drifted in and out of sleep, only awake long enough to retch up the little food you got. You would never return home. Azriel would never get to meet his child, not even know he was a father.

He came back regularly. Each time, he offered the same bargain. Each time, you refused a little less violently.

"Tell me about your powers", he would demand again and again. And you would shake your head until he hit and kicked you, until you were a sobbing mess on floor of the cell. But you didn't tell him.

Until, one day, the other one came. The one with the predatory glint in his eye, the one who had gotten hard at your tries to get away from him. He was so tall he had to crouch before you. And when he threatened to touch you, when he whispered into the darkness how he would use you, you had broken down. The words had spilled out of you like your tears and for a moment you were scared he would touch you anyways. I can winnow between worlds. But he only grinned and left. He had what he wanted. The next time he'd ask, he knew you'd accept whatever bargain he would offer.

That night, the darkness around you felt different. It wasn't empty. Something was watching you. You tried to ignore it, to simply fall asleep, but its presence made it impossible. So, you searched every inch of the cell. On hands and knees you crept through the small room, trying to find whatever it was. You found nothing but cold hard stone. But it was there. Everywhere. And when you finally closed your eyes again and laid your head against the cold stone, the darkness became a thing. And you could have sworn it sung a lullaby to you, in the language of the wind.

The trap door swung open once again. Blazing Light blinded you and you could barely make out a tall illyrian landing before you. He was too big for this cell. His wings scraped against the walls on both sides, and his head was ducked low as to not bump into the ceiling.

You scurried away from him, using your hands on the wall to guide you into the farthest corner. Inside you, your heart hammered against your ribs. This was it. He'd force you into the bargain.

The male extended a hand to you. You couldn't see more than his outlines, so blinding was the light. "Y/N, it's me".

You bared your teeth at the male and hissed. "I'll do what you want but if you touch me one more time, I'll fucking kill you".

A sharp intake of breath. "I'll get you out of here, Y/N. Please. It's me, Azriel". His tone was pleading, his voice oh so familiar. But it couldn't be him. Just another one of their tricks to get you to comply.

You dropped your head against the cold stone. "At least make it quick this time", you mumbled.

The male crouched down before you. Slowly, your eyes adapted to the light and you could make out his features. He looked like your mate. The golden specks in his hazel eyes, the dark locks of hair. But then again, his brothers looked so similar. It must have been wishful thinking. A trick of the light.

"I'm here to bring you home", he whispered, his voice breaking. Soft tendrils of air swirled over your shackled wrists, tugging at the cuffs. Dark and silky, kissing your raw skin where you had rubbed it open trying to free yourself. The male's hands met your face, stroking your cheeks. Scarred hands, wiping away tears that were running from your eyes.

Your head snapped up. "Azriel". It was more an outcry than anything, strangled and barely understandable. You flung yourself at him, as far as the confines allowed.

"Shhh, I'm here, I'm here. We're going home. Everything will be okay". Another figure appeared behind him and the shackles dissolved into thin air. Azriel was all over you in an instant. His strong hands roamed your body, pressed you tightly against him as if to never let you go again. You sobbed into his shoulder. He had come for you. He had saved you. "It's over. It's over. You have been so strong", Azriel whispered to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple and threaded his hand into your hair, where he met-

"Ow", you sobbed harder as he touched the wound. Azriel's hands immediately let go and curled aaround your shoulders instead.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry they did this to you".

"Get her out, Cass and I will handle the rest", the other person said. You had almost forgotten about him. Rhysand, you registered. Azriel picked you up, your limbs curling around his strong body. Your face buried into the crook of his neck, still whimpering against his shoulder. But it were tears of joy. His wings closed in around you immediately.

"No. I want to see the light leave their eyes for what they have done to my mate". His tone was cold, unyielding. So unlike the soft hand stroking your back, the nose buried in your hair, breathing in your scent deeply.

"Then I will keep them alive. But first, you leave. Now".

He stepped through the wind with you in his arms. You didn't feel it in his tight embrace, but he must have winnowed because moments later he sat down on your bed with you on his lap. His wings folded around you half-way, so that light could still come through. The familiarity of the sight took your breath away. You'd thought you would never be with him like this again.

"You're at home", Azriel whispered to you. "It's okay, we're at home". Strangled sounds filled the room, sobs and whines and only when his rough hands stroked your back and he told you to breathe, you realized you were crying and you were making the sounds.

"My love, I've got you. You're safe here". You forced yourself to breathe and dropped your head to his chest.

"Shh, I'm here. They can't hurt you anymore". Azriel kissed your head. You counted his breaths, trying to mimic them, In – out – in – out, and took in his scent of night-chilled air and cedar.

You didn't know how long you stayed this way until you could breathe again and stopped sobbing. Only then did you realize what had happened.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you forced out. Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but you willed them away.

For a while, you only stared at him, marveling his beauty. The way the sun illuminated the gold and emerald streaks in his eyes. His hair that was already a bit too long for his liking and fell into his forehead. The gloriously full lips you loved so much. How could you have ever mistaken your captors for your mate?

"How did you find me?", you finally asked with a hoarse voice.

"I felt the bond". Azriel nearly choked on his words. "That last tug – and then it went dark and I thought I had lost you". A tear rolled down his cheek and you tightened your grasp around his waist. "We searched the steppes for you, but there was nothing. And then, last night... my shadows called out to me. Across the entire court". The darkness singing a song to you, the thing in the night. You hadn't made it up.

You stared at him in awe. "How?". They never strayed far from him.

"I send them into every corner of Prythian and... it had been so long and I didn't think they'd find you. But then they were called to where they came from". He dropped his face onto the crown of your head and pressed a kiss to it.

"It was so dark in there". Your breath hitched at the thought of the cell. Lightly, you rubbed over the scabs at your wrists behind his back. "And I was so alone. Until I wasn't"

"What do you mean?"

"Something was there - it... it watched me. And then it turned into something else. And sang me to sleep." Realization hit you. "I think that were your shadows".

"Was that... was that what it was like for you as well? When you were in that cell? I thought about you every second, how you spent your childhood in there and..." He frowned.

His gaze was very far away, centuries ago. "It was the same. Only that nobody came for me". HIs eyes met yours and turned soft at the pain that was painted on your face. "I'll tell you all about it. In a while, when you feel better".

You laid your head onto his shoulders again and held onto him. You weren't quite sure who was comforting who now. Maybe you found solace in each other, through the hardhips you had shared.

But there was something else you shared. Someone.

You drew back slightly and locked eyes with him again. "I was so scared, Az. I thought I'd never see you again". You grasped his hand and laid it on your stomach. The anxiety you had felt the morning you had found out about the pregnancy was all gone. "I thought I'd die and you'd never even know that you are a dad".

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"That day, Madja came to see me and told me. That's why I went to the steppes, to free my head and think before telling you". Tears ran down your cheeks again now. "I wish I had just stayed home and wited for you to return", you weeped.

"You're pregnant?" There were tears pooling in his eyes as well. "My Y/N. My mate. Thinking I had lost you was the worst I've ever felt. But to think I could've lost both of you, without even knowing...". Azriel broke off and pulled you into a tight hug, his hands shaking.

He took your face in his hands and kissed away the tears.

"Are you happy, Az?". Your voice was barely a whisper.

"I couldn't be happier now that I have you back. And I couldn't be happier about our baby". Azriel's lips met yours in a soft caress. He tasted like home.

You didn't leave the bed all day. You stayed with him, curled underneath the covers. Azriel kissed away the pain and held your hand when Madja came to check on the baby and your head. You both were healthy, thank the Mother. And when Madja was gone, Azriel wrapped you in his arms and wings and never let go. He didn't urge you to talk any more about what had happened. Maybe the frail wisps of midnight air that circled around you now had told him everything already.

"I will kill them for what they did to you", Azriel whispered after he had made love to you slowly. Your naked limbs were still tangled with his, his entire body splayed over you, as if shielding you from the outside world.

Your breath hitched in your chest and Azriel planted a soft kiss on your jaw.

"No". His entire body turned rigid and he rolled off you without letting go.

"Why no? Y/N, I can't let them live after what they did", he murmured, kissing up your cheek, "I wasn't there to protect you. This is the only way I can make up for what happened".

Your hug around him grew tighter. "It's not your fault. I reacted too late. There is no debt to pay me, Az. And even if there was, you would've paid it back the moment you brought me home". Your hands threaded into his hair.

Azriel buried his face in your neck and his shadows stroked your cheek. "Please. I will never forgive myself for leaving you both unprotected. Please let me make it up to you. To the baby. If you were any other male's mate, if you were Cassian's mate or Rhys's they wouldn't have done this to you. It's because of me".

He meant it. Your heart dropped at the realization. He thought he was responsible.

"It's not your fault, none of this"

He wanted to interrupt you, but you didn't let him. "Not for this and not for what they did to you as a child. I don't want you to kill them for me. At least not only for me. I want you to kill them for what they did to you as well"

He stilled for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I can live with that".

"Good". You closed your eyes and soaked up his warmth. There was no other way you wanted to spend your future with him. You'd die a happy death in a thousand years if all you did until then was lay in bed next to your mate.

A wisp of air circled around your wrist, darted over chest and pooled over your stomach where it stayed, humming.

"It's yours now", Azriel murmured into your hair, "that's the one that found you. It told me it won't leave your side again".

Your fingers threaded through the shadowy tendrils and you could've sworn they purred at your touch.

"And I will also never leave your side", he whispered before his lips met yours.

[suliigwp]

Helloooooooo, how are you?? Love your work!!

So I got this idea for Oscar, where they have been dating for years now and everyone always teased him about when he’s popping the question. The fans pick up to it and reader finds it super funny so she posts a video with Oscar like full on sleeping on her chest with the song paper rings but like the soft part at the end. Fans go crazy and his mum Nicole actually urges him to pop the question. What do you think?? You can always change the plot a bit, it’s just an idea, hope you have a great week!!

-(cal me) rudolf or 🐢 anon (if it’s free)

Paper Rings

Oscar Piastri x Reader

SULI:Hii thank you so much for the request! Yes 🐢 anon is free— welcome to the family! I loved writing this, so sweet and ugh I just love this man— hope you enjoy! This ended up wayyyyy longer than what I imagined I would write (this is my fav gif of Oscar I had to use it)

Also this is not proofread so forgive any mistakes lmao

Warnings: talk of dangers of f1

Oscar and Y/N had been together since high school. Their story wasn’t one of wild romance or instant fireworks, but a slow-burning, steady kind of love that grew from shy smiles in crowded hallways and whispered secrets beneath the bleachers. They had been the kind of couple everyone expected to last forever — the golden pair who fit so perfectly it was like they’d been made for each other from the start. And for years, they had been inseparable.

Despite the many years and countless memories they shared, there was one thing everyone around them kept teasing Oscar about — when was he finally going to pop the question?

It started with their close friends and family. At the racing team’s gatherings, Oscar’s teammates couldn’t help but poke fun. Lando would smirk and nudge him during strategy talks, “Mate, been years. When’s the ring going on her finger?” Carlos, never one to miss a chance to tease, joked about how Oscar’s mum was already asking if he needed help picking out the perfect ring. Even Y/N’s best friends would text him with sly messages about the “big question” everyone was waiting for.

Oscar laughed along with it, but deep down, the teasing pressed on him in ways no one could see.

The fans were no different. Social media buzzed with excitement and speculation, creating a frenzy over the couple that had grown up before their eyes. Screenshots of their old photos surfaced alongside edits set to romantic songs, and forums debated which race weekend would finally see Oscar get down on one knee. The pressure wasn’t just from the people closest to him — it was everywhere, loud and relentless.

But what no one really understood was what was holding Oscar back.

It wasn’t a lack of love. Oscar loved Y/N with every fiber of his being. He’d dreamed of forever with her since they were teenagers, and his heart raced faster than any car on the track every time he thought about their future. But there was something else — a weight he carried quietly.

Since those early days, his life had been a constant race, both on and off the track. The world of Formula 1 was unforgiving, full of unpredictability and risks that could change everything in an instant. He wanted more than anything to be the man she deserved — stable, strong, able to give her a future without fear or doubt. But how do you promise forever when tomorrow is so uncertain? When every race could bring glory or heartbreak?

The truth was, Oscar was terrified of failing her. Of not being enough.

Late at night, he would lie awake, clutching the small ring box hidden beneath his pillow — polished and perfect, a silent promise waiting to be made. But every time he imagined getting down on one knee, doubt crept in, filling his chest with cold hesitation.

His mum, Nicole, saw through the cracks, even when he tried to hide them. On video calls, her voice was gentle but firm, “Oscar, darling, you’ve been dating Y/N since you were kids. Isn’t it time you made it official?” She teased and encouraged, reminding him how much they all loved Y/N and wanted to see them take the next step. Oscar would laugh nervously, promising he was thinking about it. But he wasn’t ready to say more.

Y/N, too, sensed the tension beneath his smiles. She wasn’t in a rush, never had been. Their love wasn’t about grand gestures or deadlines. It lived in quiet moments — Oscar’s hand slipping into hers during long waits at airports, her sketching his tired face after races, the way they’d curl up together on their couch, wrapped in blankets and the comfort of simply being with each other.

But she knew. She knew he was scared. Not of her, but of the weight of forever.

It was late — the kind of still night when the rest of the world felt like it had slowed down just for them. Oscar was completely exhausted, his body finally surrendering after a long day of training and travel. He’d collapsed onto the couch beside her, and before she could even say a word, he had rested his head gently on her chest, eyes closing as his breathing deepened into slow, even rhythms.

Y/N sat perfectly still, careful not to disturb him. She looked down at him with a tenderness that made her chest ache in the best way. His hair was soft and messy from the day, falling loosely over his forehead and around his ears, and she couldn’t resist the impulse to reach out.

Her fingers moved slowly, as if not wanting to break the spell, threading gently through the dark curls above his temple. The warmth of his skin beneath her palm made her heart flutter — quiet and steady, like the steady beat beneath it.

Oscar shifted just slightly, his breath hitching for a moment before he relaxed again. Encouraged by the calmness of the moment, Y/N let her hand trace a gentle path from his hair down to the curve of his cheek, brushing softly against the smooth skin there.

Almost immediately, Oscar nuzzled closer, pressing his face deeper into her palm and the warmth of her touch. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes — a silent conversation of comfort and trust that had grown between them over the years.

She smiled softly, the kind of smile that didn’t need words, just the pure knowing that this moment — this quiet, unguarded closeness — was everything.

She took out her phone and started recording.

The soft, fading notes of Paper Rings drifted in the background, delicate and warm, wrapping around them like a gentle promise.

Y/N shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and continued to stroke his hair, her heart full in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

There was no rush, no grand declaration needed right then. Just this — Oscar asleep in her arms, safe and at peace, and the world reduced to the simple rhythm of their shared breath.

Morning light filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside was waking up slowly, but inside, time seemed to have paused just a little longer.

Y/N lay still, feeling the steady rise and fall of Oscar’s chest against her side. His head was still resting on her, the faint warmth of his skin seeping into hers. For a moment, she just let herself soak in the quiet — the kind of quiet that feels like home.

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, now softer in the early light, and when he shifted just enough to nuzzle into her again, a sleepy smile tugged at her lips. He wasn’t fully awake yet — just caught in that beautiful space between dreams and reality.

Careful not to disturb him, Y/N reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as she scrolled through the overnight notifications. The video from last night had exploded in views — thousands upon thousands of hearts, comments filled with love and excitement, and ring emojis flooding the feed.

Her phone buzzed relentlessly, texts lighting up the screen. Friends teasing, fans gushing, and then — a message from Nicole, Oscar’s mum, flashing bright and urgent: “When’s my boy gonna put that ring on your finger?!”

Y/N laughed quietly to herself, the sound soft but filled with warmth. She brushed a stray lock of hair from Oscar’s forehead.

Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the morning light warm and soft against his face. For a moment, he didn’t move — just took in the weight of Y/N’s body beneath his head, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat grounding him in a way nothing else could.

His fingers twitched, still tangled lightly in her hair as he blinked up at the ceiling, feeling the peaceful calm of the moment wrap around him like a blanket.

Then, ever so gently, he shifted—nuzzling deeper into her, burying his face just a little more against her skin, as if trying to hold onto that feeling of safety and quiet a little longer.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he whispered, barely louder than a breath, “Morning.”

He opened his eyes fully then and glanced down, catching sight of Y/N’s smile. His heart swelled — that little smile she wore, the way her eyes lit up even first thing in the morning, it made everything feel like home.

Oscar let his hand cup her cheek softly, thumb brushing over her skin in the gentlest of touches, before he spoke again, voice still thick with sleep, “I’m never waking up from this.”

The moment Oscar and Y/N’s little video went viral, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, no one—friends, family, even fans—could stop teasing him about the one thing everyone had been quietly (or not so quietly) waiting for: when was he finally going to propose?

It started small. At training sessions, his teammates would nudge him with raised eyebrows. Lando, always the cheeky one, smirked and said, “Mate, it’s been years. You planning on popping the question before you retire, or should we start a countdown clock?”

Oscar just laughed, brushing it off, but the grin never quite reached his eyes. Y/N caught it too—the way he’d glance at her sometimes when the teasing started, half-amused, half-worried.

At the paddock, journalists began picking up on the hints, asking the question slyly during interviews. “So, Oscar, fans are dying to know—when’s the big moment?” they’d press, flashing that knowing smile.

And then came the texts and calls from family. His mum, Nicole, was the worst. She didn’t hold back. “Honestly, Oscar, what are you waiting for? You have a beautiful girlfriend, you love her—do the right thing, darling.”

Oscar would groan every time. “Mum, I’m not ignoring you, I just want it to be perfect.”

“But you’ve been saying that for three years!” she shot back, totally unfazed.

Y/N watched it all from the sidelines, amused and affectionate. The whole world seemed to be in on this joke except Oscar himself.

One night, at a small gathering with their closest friends, the teasing hit peak levels.

“Come on, Oscar,” Hattie teased, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re not getting any younger, and neither are we. You planning on letting Y/N keep stealing your hoodies forever or are you gonna make it official?”

Lando chimed in, “Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re scared of the big question. What’s holding you back?”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, trying to laugh it off. “I’m just making sure it’s the right moment, alright?”

Y/N leaned over and whispered, “Or maybe you’re just nervous.”

That made the room burst into laughter, and Oscar’s cheeks flushed.

Despite the teasing, Y/N knew what was really going on. It wasn’t fear or doubt holding him back—it was the weight of the promise he wanted to make. The years they’d spent together, the ups and downs, the quiet moments and the big ones.

Still, every joke, every question, every nudge only made the anticipation grow, and somewhere deep inside, Y/N knew their perfect moment was coming—she just didn’t know when.

...

The house was quiet that afternoon, sunlight slanting through the curtains in golden strips. The buzz of the earlier crowd—friends coming and going, family lingering over coffee and conversation—had finally faded, leaving just Oscar and his mum in the kitchen.

He was standing by the sink, rolling a glass of water between his palms, while Nicole sat at the kitchen table, watching him with that look only a mother could give. Patient. Knowing. Unapologetically nosy.

“I’m surprised you stayed behind,” Oscar said, glancing at her. “Thought you’d be the first to head back to the hotel.”

Nicole shrugged, sipping from her cup. “Wanted to see you. Just you. Just my son.”

He gave her a small smile, one she didn’t miss was a little tight around the edges. She set her cup down.

“Oscar.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Just tired.”

She let that settle for a moment before asking, gently, “Is it about the proposal?”

Oscar didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to—his silence said enough.

Nicole stood and crossed the kitchen, resting a hand lightly on his back. “Can we sit for a minute?”

They moved to the small couch in the sunroom, where the late afternoon light painted everything in a soft, fading warmth. Oscar leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glass still in his hands.

“I know everyone’s been teasing you,” she said carefully. “I’ve done it too.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. You and literally everyone I know.”

Nicole tilted her head. “And I know you, sweetheart. When something means a lot to you, you overthink it.”

Oscar was quiet, his thumb moving over the rim of his glass.

“I want to do it right,” he said softly. “Y/N... she’s everything. We’ve been together since we were kids. She knows me better than anyone. She’s been patient through it all—through the races, the travel, the constant being away. I come home exhausted, sometimes barely there at all, and she never makes me feel guilty for it.”

Nicole listened, eyes soft, waiting.

He sighed, deeper this time. “And I think that’s part of what scares me.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I’m always gone,” he continued, his voice low. “Race to race, country to country, time zones and airports and hotel rooms. And when I’m not away, I’m still not really... here. My head’s always somewhere else—on the next turn, the next performance, the next interview.”

His throat tightened. “It’s not fair to her. It hasn’t been for years. I’m in this career that asks for everything—my time, my focus, even my body. It’s dangerous, Mum. I know I don’t talk about it, but it is. One crash, one wrong move, and everything could change. Or end.”

Nicole reached for his hand, wrapping hers around his.

“She never complains,” he said, a little brokenly. “She just waits. Supports. Smiles and makes it easier. And I just keep taking and taking, and what if marrying her—what if making her my wife—means she gives up even more of herself?”

Nicole’s heart ached at the way he said it, like he was carrying guilt for simply being loved too well.

“Oscar,” she said gently, “you don’t protect someone by keeping them at arm’s length.”

He looked at her, eyes glinting with emotion.

“She already chose you,” Nicole continued. “Every day. Every race. Every long-distance call, every night she watched you on a screen instead of next to her. That’s not changing if she’s your girlfriend or your wife. She knows what she signed up for—and she signed up for you.”

“But what if something happens?”

“Then she’ll grieve with your name on her heart,” Nicole said, voice strong despite the crack in it. “Just like you would for her. That’s what love is. Not running from the risk—choosing each other anyway.”

Oscar swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” she added, “or wait for the perfect moment. You just have to be honest. And if what’s holding you back is fear—then let her be the one to hold you through it. Like she always has.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

And then Oscar leaned back on the couch, eyes burning, head gently tilted toward his mum’s shoulder.

“I’m just scared.”

“I know,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his hair. “That means you care.”

...

Oscar hadn’t told anyone about the ring.

Not at first. Not even when he bought it two years ago, alone in Monaco during a break between back-to-back races, standing in a quiet little boutique with too much white and too many mirrors. He remembered the way the glass counter reflected the tiny gold band, delicate and simple, with a solitaire diamond — exactly how you would’ve wanted it. He remembered the way his thumb had hovered just slightly before he nodded at the jeweler, heart racing harder than it ever did in a car going 300km/h.

He hadn’t told anyone because the moment had been his. Just his.

Because even though the teasing had started back then — from his mum, from his friends, from half the bloody paddock — something in him wasn’t ready yet. Not because of you. Never because of you.

Because of his job. His life. The travel, the danger, the days he spent exhausted and strung out from back-to-back flights. Because being a racing driver meant sometimes being absent, and you had never asked for anything more than his presence, even when he could barely give you that.

And part of him — some quiet, scared part of him — had convinced himself that maybe you deserved better than a boy who left more often than he came home.

So the ring stayed in a drawer. Wrapped in its velvet box, tucked away in a zippered pouch behind spare cables and old credentials. He’d check on it sometimes — carefully, reverently — opening the lid and staring at the soft glint in the light. Sometimes, after particularly long races or lonely nights, he’d whisper things to it.

“She’s still it. Still everything.”

But he never moved.

Not until a month ago.

It started with that video — the one you posted without thinking. Oscar dead asleep, face smooshed against your chest, hand curled around your wrist like he’d found the only thing worth holding in the world.

He’d woken up to chaos.

Hundreds of thousands of likes. Comments. Reposts. TikToks dissecting the lighting. Tweets demanding a proposal. Memes of him asleep with “husband material” scrawled over his forehead.

You were so sweet about it, always scrolling past quickly when you were scrolling on your phone together about him proposing, to not give him any pressure.

And that was what made it impossible to wait anymore.

So, for the first time in two years, he pulled the ring out — hands slightly trembling, breath caught in his throat.

And then he did something he never thought he’d do.

He showed your best friend.

You weren’t home — you were out running errands, and he’d texted her on a whim, asking if she could stop by, not giving any context. She arrived with suspicious eyes and a grin, teasing him instantly.

“She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“What—no! Jesus—just come in.”

She barely had time to take her shoes off before he was pulling the little velvet box from behind the fruit bowl, practically hiding it in his palm like it was some illicit secret.

And when he opened it —

She gasped.

Hand to her mouth, eyes already shining.

“Oh my god.”

Oscar’s jaw tensed, nerves kicking in hard and fast. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“She’s going to sob,” she whispered, voice thick. “Are you kidding me? You’ve had this for how long?”

“A while.”

Then, softer: “I just didn’t know if I deserved her yet.”

That was all it took.

Suddenly, your best friend was crying. Not loud, but that quiet, overwhelmed kind — blinking fast and biting back a full sob. Oscar froze, unsure.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” she said quickly, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. “No. You idiot. She’s going to marry you in ten seconds if you ask.”

He held onto her, feeling something heavy shake loose in his chest.

“She waited for you,” she murmured into his shoulder. “She always would have.”

Oscar didn’t cry. Not then. But something welled in his throat as he looked down at the little box in his hand — the one that had sat in the dark for too long.

Now it was time to let it see light.

He was ready. Finally.

To ask.

To hope.

To begin.

...

Oscar sat on the couch with his laptop open, not racing footage or telemetry data for once, but a blank Notes page titled in all caps:

THE PLAN.

It felt so serious typed out like that. He almost laughed — almost. But his heart was beating a bit too fast for that.

Because it was real now. He was going to ask you to marry him.

And if there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was wing it.

He rubbed at his jaw, glanced at the velvet box beside him, and typed the first bullet.

1. Location.

He wanted it to be somewhere meaningful. Not over-the-top. Not something grand or wildly public. It had to feel like you. Like the two of you, in your quiet little world where love lived in the silences and shared glances.

Your high school back garden where you had your first kiss? No, too far.

The rooftop where you watched fireworks two years ago on New Year’s Eve? Maybe.

But then he paused. Thought harder.

He ended up circling back to the simplest answer.

Home.

Your shared apartment. The one filled with plants you insisted weren’t dying (even when they definitely were), the kitchen that still had “his and hers” mugs from high school, the faint dent in the hallway wall from when he crashed into it during a Mario Kart race.

Home, where he had found the softest version of himself because you’d made space for it.

He typed:

→ Living room. Candles. Dim lighting. Quiet. Just us.

2. Time.

She’s always busiest on Thursdays. I’ll do it on a Sunday evening, when she’s sleepy and soft and doesn’t expect anything. Maybe after a movie, or her favourite dinner.

His fingers hesitated before typing:

→ Sunday. 8PM. Movie first — something she loves. Then dinner. Then quiet.

3. Distraction plan.

He needed help setting up. Someone to make sure the candles weren’t setting off the smoke alarm, that the lights were dimmed, the playlist queued.

He’d already talked to your best friend. After the ring reveal, she’d sworn a blood oath of secrecy and offered to help with anything. He sent her a text while typing the next point:

→ Best friend will take her out earlier in the day. Mani-pedi + coffee excuse. Gives me time to set up.

4. Ring placement.

Not in his pocket. Too risky. He had a history of losing things in couch cushions.

He considered the idea of hiding it in something — a dessert, a coffee cup — but then physically recoiled.

No.

You’d murder him if he accidentally made you swallow the engagement ring. Rightfully.

Instead, he decided:

→ Box in drawer by the record player. I’ll go get it when it’s time.

5. Speech.

He hadn’t written it yet. But he knew the beats.

Talk about the first time he saw her — not the version everyone knew, not the cutesy “we were high school sweethearts” part — but the real moment.

The time she stayed after his karting practice with a juice box in her hand and said, “You looked miserable. Thought you might need sugar.”

The moment he knew: this girl was going to wreck him.

How she’d been the only thing constant, solid, and warm through years of jetlag, failure, podiums, and pressure.

How scared he’d been to ask — not because of her, but because of everything he wasn’t sure he could promise.

And how now… he was finally ready.

→ Just speak from the heart. Don’t fumble. Unless she laughs — then laugh too.

6. Playlist.

Because he knew her. Because he loved her.

Because if he didn’t pick the right songs, she’d tease him forever.

He opened Spotify and started a new list: “for us.”

First on the queue? “Paper Rings (Acoustic),” because she still hadn’t realized how much that one post meant to him.

Then a few of the songs they’d fallen asleep to on long flights. A bit of Hozier. A soft Japanese track she’d taught him how to pronounce.

→ “for us” playlist. Final check. No ads. No shuffle. Don’t mess this up.

7. Contingency plan.

Because Oscar Piastri was nothing if not prepared.

What if she cried too hard to answer?

What if he dropped the ring?

What if she thought it was a prank?

He typed quickly:

→ Hug her. Don’t rush. Let her answer on her own time. Don’t panic.

And then, finally:

8. The after.

He wasn’t going to post right away. He wanted it just for them — just for one night. Maybe they’d tell your best friend first. His mum next. Then the rest could come.

But he did have a folder of photos ready. All of them candid. All of them glowing. Like the one where she kissed his cheek while he was still brushing his teeth. Or the blurry one of her asleep on his chest with the sunlight painting her face gold.

→ Just us, first. Always.

Oscar leaned back.

Looked at the list.

And exhaled.

He was going to ask you to be his forever.

And for the first time in years, there wasn’t a single doubt in his heart.

But there had always been one thing lingering at the edge of it all — one thing he couldn’t skip, couldn’t avoid.

Asking your dad.

You and Oscar had been together since you were sixteen — practically grew up alongside each other. Your parents had seen every version of him: the awkward teenage boy with racing posters in his backpack, the one who nervously shook your dad’s hand at the front door in a too-big suit on your Year 12 formal night. The kid who once broke your mum’s favourite vase and nearly passed out apologizing.

They’d watched him grow.

Which somehow made this even more terrifying.

So when he texted your dad and asked if they could get coffee — “just the two of us, if that’s alright?” — Oscar already felt his palms getting clammy. Your dad replied almost instantly: “Of course. I’ve been waiting.”

That didn’t help.

The café was quiet, tucked into a leafy corner of your neighbourhood. A place your dad liked — Oscar knew because he’d driven past it on slow Sunday mornings with you in the passenger seat, talking about nothing.

He got there early. Sat at a corner table and fiddled with the coffee cup sleeve until it nearly tore.

And then your dad walked in, wearing the same calm, unreadable expression he always had. Friendly, but firm. Warm, but never too easy to crack. The kind of man who didn’t say much unless it meant something. Just like you.

“Hey, Oscar,” he said with a nod, sitting down across from him.

“Hi, sir,” Oscar replied, voice a little tight.

Your dad looked at him for a long second, then smiled, just a little. “Relax. You’re not here for a job interview.”

Oscar laughed — nervously — but still.

They chatted first. About racing. About travel. About the state of his car lately and how your dad had been watching from the sidelines and still yelling at the screen when strategy made no sense. It was easy. Familiar.

Until the conversation lulled.

And Oscar knew.

This was it.

He sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat.

“I… I wanted to ask you something,” he started, rubbing his palms against his jeans beneath the table. “Something important.”

Your dad leaned back slightly. Watching. Listening.

“I’ve loved Y/n since we were kids. And I know that sounds too young to be sure, but I’ve known every version of her — every birthday, every laugh, every bad day where she still managed to smile — and I’ve never once doubted her. Not once.”

He swallowed.

“And I know this job… it’s a lot. It takes me away. It’s dangerous. It’s unpredictable. But she’s never made me feel like it was too much. She’s stayed. She’s supported me. She’s been my home through all of it.”

Oscar paused. His voice softened.

“And I want to marry her. If… if you’re okay with that.”

The words hung in the air. He could hear the tiny café speaker humming something low and jazzy in the background. He hated how loud his heartbeat sounded in his own ears.

Your dad didn’t speak right away.

He looked down at his coffee. Then back at Oscar.

Then he nodded.

And said, “I’d be honoured to call you my son.”

Oscar blinked. “Really?”

“I’ve watched you love her for years,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “And I’ve never worried. Not once. That means something.”

And for the first time since Oscar sat down, he breathed — really breathed.

Your dad smiled and added, “Now, if you hurt her, I will kill you.”

Oscar’s laugh cracked through the nerves, shaky and full of affection. “That’s… fair.”

They clinked their coffee cups like glasses. Two men who had never needed many words — only trust. And now, they had it.

Later that night, Oscar drove home with both hands on the wheel and that velvet box sitting in the glove compartment like it had been waiting too.

He was ready now.

Really ready.

And you had no idea what was coming.

Say the word, bestie, and I’ll write your best friend seeing the ring again, and the moment Oscar stands in the living room, hand shaking, heart thundering, ready to ask.

...

The sun poured in soft and gold through the windows, spilling across your sheets like something out of a dream. You were still curled beneath the duvet, face warm against your pillow, when a knock came at your bedroom door — three soft taps and then a cheeky voice you knew too well.

“Get up, princess. We’ve got a date with some hair masks and overpriced lattes.”

You groaned, smiling into the pillow. “Do I have to?”

Your best friend poked her head in, already dressed in a flowy linen dress, sunnies on her head, and a grin that looked suspiciously like she was up to something.

“Yes, you have to,” she said. “I booked us the works — nails, hair, brows. I’m talking pampered-to-the-heavens kind of day.”

You blinked sleepily, pushing your hair out of your face. “Why?”

“Because,” she said, sauntering in and yanking your blanket off dramatically, “you’ve been an exhausted little marshmallow lately, and I need my best girl back. This is long overdue.”

You laughed, kicking your legs in protest before finally sitting up, stretching your arms over your head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m lucky you haven’t figured out this is all an elaborate ploy to get you glowing for a very specific reason.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She smiled too hard and practically dragged you into the bathroom.

The salon smelled like citrus and jasmine and felt like stepping into heaven. Everything was light and airy and crisp — soft music playing, staff already greeting you with cucumber water and complimenting your skin.

Your best friend leaned into the receptionist’s desk and said, “She’s the bride.”

You blinked. “The what?”

“I said ‘divine.’ She’s divine,” she corrected smoothly, elbowing you with a wink.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re acting so weird today.”

“I’m acting fabulous, babe. Relax and let me spoil you.”

And you did. The two of you sat side by side, heads tipped back over sinks as warm water ran through your hair and a stylist massaged your scalp with something that smelled like vanilla and orange blossoms. Your eyes fluttered shut. You let yourself drift.

Your best friend took secret photos of you with a soft smile on her face, heart clenching just a little because you have no idea. You have no idea that the love of your life has been texting her every twenty minutes asking “is she happy? is she relaxing? does she suspect anything?”

You were glowing.

After your nails were done (a pale blush pink she subtly nudged you into choosing), and your hair was blown out in soft waves, you sat in front of the mirror, blinking at your reflection.

“God,” you said, softly. “I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m floating.”

Your best friend came up behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“You look like magic.”

You turned to look at her, eyes soft. “Thanks for today.”

She swallowed, heart skipping. “You deserve the world.”

And when you leaned in to hug her, warm and sleepy and full of love, she had to blink away tears.

Because you still had no idea.

And Oscar Piastri was about to give you everything.

...

Oscar had been pacing.

Not nervously — not exactly. Just that kind of buzzed, excited pacing that meant his heart wouldn’t quite stay calm. His socks were half sliding on the wooden floors as he moved around the flat, adjusting and readjusting the little details.

The living room looked like a scene out of a love song.

Candles — the expensive kind he knew you liked, the ones that smelled like fig and honey — were flickering gently across every surface. Your favorite flowers — not red roses, but the weird little white ones you always called “the ugly pretty ones” — were everywhere, tucked into vases and glasses and little jars like a secret garden had exploded in their apartment. The playlist had been curated to within an inch of its life, starting with the soft stuff you always hummed to in the car and slowly building toward the songs that felt like him and you — lazy days and road trips and the night you moved in together.

In the middle of the drawer beneath the record player. Waiting for the right time.

He hadn’t even opened it today — he didn’t need to. He knew exactly what it looked like. Simple, clean. The band was warm gold, nothing flashy, but the diamond was clear and bright. The kind of ring that didn’t try too hard. The kind that felt like you.

It sat there quietly, like it knew its moment was coming.

Oscar stepped back, hands on his hips, staring at the table like it might suddenly ask for his blessing.

“You ready, mate?” he muttered to himself, voice soft and full of something breathless.

Then came the knock on the door.

His breath caught.

He checked the time. Perfect. You were early.

He made it halfway down the hall before stopping, raking a hand through his hair. He turned around, sprinted back, and grabbed the tiny bouquet of baby’s breath he’d forgotten to put by the door — the one he wanted to give you the moment you walked in, for no reason at all. Just because.

Another knock. This one softer. Familiar.

His heart was pounding.

He opened the door.

And there you were.

Hair done, face glowing, a soft pink gloss on your lips and that look in your eyes — the one that always landed right in his chest. Your tote bag hung off one shoulder. You still had the little paper wristband from the salon tucked on your wrist like you forgot it was there. You were a little windblown from the walk up the stairs.

He couldn’t breathe.

You blinked at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, voice cracking a little.

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not—” He cleared his throat. “I just missed you.”

You softened. “It’s only been a few hours.”

He stepped aside, holding out the little bouquet.

“For you.”

You blinked, smiling at the crinkled paper wrapping. “What’s this for?”

“Nothing. You just look really beautiful.”

You raised a brow. “Oscar Piastri, are you trying to distract me?”

He laughed, nervous and giddy and warm all over. “A little bit.”

You leaned in to kiss his cheek — something so casual and familiar it made his chest ache — and stepped inside.

You didn’t notice the candles at first.

Didn’t notice the playlist, or the flowers.

But he watched as it all slowly hit you.

Your steps slowed. Your eyes flicked around. Your mouth opened slightly.

“…What is this?”

He closed the door behind you and didn’t answer yet. He gave you time to take it in — to see the apartment the way he saw you. Soft and glowing and full of meaning.

He stepped up beside you, heart wild in his chest.

Your fingers tightened around the bouquet.

“Oscar?” you said again, barely above a whisper.

The air felt too heavy. Like your lungs had forgotten how to stretch all the way. Like the walls had inched closer without warning.

He looked at you gently, but you couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a second. Your eyes flitted around the room — the golden light, the candles, the record spinning something soft and slow in the corner, the colors that didn’t belong to an ordinary night.

You took one step inside, then stopped. The silence stretched too far.

“Oscar,” you said again, quieter this time, “what is this?”

You weren’t angry. You weren’t even crying yet. You were just still. Too still. Like your body was trying not to feel it.

Oscar’s voice came soft. “It’s okay.”

You shook your head, almost imperceptibly. “I wasn’t— I didn’t know—”

He stepped closer, slowly, carefully, like he didn’t want to startle you. His hand reached for yours, fingers warm and familiar. “Hey. You’re okay. I promise. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

You tried. You really did. But your chest barely moved.

You blinked again, fast. “Why does it feel like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like something’s… about to change.”

His smile was soft, almost sad. “Because it is.”

You finally looked at him. Really looked. Your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted, your hands shaking around the stems of the flowers.

He laughed quietly, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “God, you’re so quiet right now. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You didn’t answer. Just stared.

He took a breath.

And then, still holding your hand, he began.

“There’s a ring in the drawer — wrapped up, hidden, waiting for the perfect day. But then last weekyou walked through the door in that new green dress and I saw you, so happy, and something inside me just said, Why are you waiting?”

You made a small sound, like a breath that didn’t land all the way.

He kept going.

“I’ve watched you walk into so many rooms, and every single time, I’ve fallen in love with you all over again. And I think—” his voice caught a little, “—I think part of me’s been falling since the first time you looked at me like I wasn’t something to be afraid of.”

Your other hand had risen to your chest now, fingers pressed lightly against your collarbone.

Oscar stepped closer, his words steady even as his eyes grew glassy.

“You always say you’re too much. Too sharp, too complicated, too careful. But do you want to know what I see?”

You nodded, barely.

“I see a girl who laughs with her whole chest when she forgets to be scared. Who stays up late sending pictures of weird clouds. Who holds my hand like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered and still pretends she’s not the softest person in the room.”

A quiet laugh escaped you — wet, stunned — and you shook your head slightly, as if trying to keep yourself upright.

Oscar held your hand a little tighter, his thumb tracing small circles over your skin.

He exhaled slowly, voice a little steadier now. “You know, my job… it’s not easy. It’s demanding in ways I can’t always explain — the travel, the pressure, the constant chase for perfection. Some days I feel like I’m barely holding myself together, and other days I blink and another month’s passed.”

He paused, his voice going quiet again.

“But even in all of that — even when I’m jet-lagged or exhausted or reading strategy notes at 2 a.m. — I still find myself thinking about you. Wondering if you slept okay. If you ate. If something made you laugh.”

You looked down, your breath catching.

“I know I’m not always going to be around in the way you deserve. And I hate that. But I promise you… I’ll try. I’ll try with everything I have to be present, to be there in the moments that matter. I’ll call. I’ll write. I’ll show up — even if it’s in the smallest ways. Because loving you isn't something I want to fit in between races. It's something I want to build everything else around.”

He smiled, soft and sure.

“You’re not a break from my world. You are my world.”

He took a breath.

And that’s when he broke.

Not panicked. Not messy. But decisive.

Like he’d just made a choice in real time.

He turned.

Walked straight down the hallway.

Your heart tripped into your throat. “Oscar—wait, where are you going? What are you—”

But your voice died as soon as you saw it.

The little velvet box in his hand.

He returned slowly, chest rising and falling like he’d been holding this moment in for too long — too many days, too many almosts.

And when he met your eyes again, everything inside you lit up and collapsed at the same time.

“No,” you breathed. “No, you’re not—you’re not doing this—”

“I am,” he said, voice soft but steady. “I really am.”

Your hands were trembling now, bouquet forgotten and held too loosely, fingers clenched and released over and over again like your body was trying to keep pace with your heart.

“But—but you said not yet,” you whispered.

He looked down at the box in his hands. Then back up at you.

He opened it.

And your knees almost buckled.

The ring caught the candlelight in a quiet shimmer — not flashy, not huge, but perfect. Intimate. Him.

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Oscar said, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been holding onto this ring for three years. Always thinking there’d be a better time, a better way. But nothing feels more right than right now. You, standing here, losing your mind because I lit a candle and played our song.”

He laughed, but it was breathless. Full of adrenaline. Full of you.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much it hurts. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

You blinked rapidly, tears clinging to your lashes, one already streaking down your cheek.

“Oscar,” you whispered, but it came out like a plea.

He stepped forward. Got down on one knee.

Your breath caught, completely and entirely gone.

“Will you marry me?”

There were no theatrics.

No grand speeches.

Just him — knees to the floor, hands shaking, heart in his throat, ring in a box that had been waiting far too long.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your hands covered your mouth and a little laugh bubbled out through the shock.

He smiled up at you — really smiled — like every part of him was in this.

“Yes,” you choked out. “Oh my god, yes.”

The moment hit like a wave.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, hands on his face, kissing him before he could even slide the ring onto your finger. You were crying and laughing and holding onto him like gravity stopped working.

“I thought I was going to pass out,” you whispered against his mouth, shaking.

He laughed into the kiss, forehead resting against yours. “Same.”

And when he finally did slide the ring on — slow, reverent, like it meant everything (because it did) — your hand trembled in his.

“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing your knuckles. “Finally.”

The music kept playing in the background.

But the room had never been so quiet.

Because nothing needed to be said.

Not anymore.

...

Liked by hattiepiastri, lando, f1, mclaren and 7.7M others.

oscarpiastri: perfect.

lando: HOLY SHIT CONGRATS

danielricciardoso: THIS is what all those mysterious “plans” were?? crying, shaking, throwing champagne 🥂

yourbestfriend: IM SORRY YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME FIRST?? I FIND OUT WITH THE REST OF THE WORLD?? 😭😭😭 I HATE YOU (I LOVE YOU CONGRATS)

mclaren: Our team’s real winning moment 🧡

oscarpiastriupdates: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT 😭 the candles, the playlist, the strawberries... WE CLOCKED IT MONTHS AGO

username1: not him captioning it like that and making me cry on a THURSDAY

username2: this is why I can’t have nice things. men like him are taken.

username3: the softest launch. the deadliest impact. RIP me.

username4: no press release, no video, just “perfect” and a RING??? be serious oscar we’re fragile

username5: tell me she said yes and then immediately started crying and making it his problem

username6: the “perfect” wasn’t about the photo. it was about her 😭😭😭

Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu

[sirxaibs]

Sanji Vinsmoke X Reader

Gimme Some Advice

masterlist

Synopsis: Me when I yearn. Me and I yearn but have a healthy relationship with my friends and knows not to be jealous but still allow myself to feel things

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ You were sprawled out on a sun chair, kicking your legs back and forth and humming a random tune to yourself, still feeling giddy from the delicious meal Sanji had served earlier. Your hair fluttered in the wind, and your bright eyes scanned the open sea until

BAM. “[Y/N]!”

Sanji came flying across the deck like a torpedo, arms flailing for balance as he skidded to a halt in front of you. His shirt was untucked, cigarette barely hanging on his lip, and a wild, borderline panicked look in his eyes. You blinked. “…You okay there, Romeo?”

Sanji bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “I I need your help.”

Your brows lifted with curiosity and amusement. “What, did Luffy eat the last cookie again and you’re plotting revenge?”

“No, this is serious!”

You sat up straighter, suppressing a grin. “Okay, okay. What is it?”

Sanji straightened, brushed back his hair dramatically, and looked at you with those swirly, golden eyes as if he were about to confess some great truth.

“I need you to tell me… how to pull a woman.”

You stared at him.

Then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry what?”

Sanji flushed, his hands flying up. “I know! I know it sounds ridiculous coming from me, but I swear I’m being serious. Dead serious.”

You giggled, slapping a hand over your mouth. “Sanji, my darling, you throw yourself at women like it’s a sport. If flirting were a martial art, you’d be a black belt.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Sanji groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It doesn’t work. I mean, not really. They just giggle or wave me off like I’m some harmless breeze. None of them take me seriously. And I I want to be taken seriously. Just once.”

You quieted at that, your expression softening. “Oh, Sanji…”

He sighed, leaning back against the rail, his face turned to the sea. “There’s this girl. Not someone on this ship,” he added quickly, glancing at you. “She’s kind and funny and strong. But when I talk to her, I get so nervous I just default to… you know.”

“the pathetic lover boy routine not enough for you?” you said innocently, batting your lashes.

Sanji shot you a look, lips twitching despite himself. “Yes, that.”

You hopped off the chair and padded toward him, poking his chest lightly. “Okay, lover boy. Let’s get one thing straight: You’re not failing because you flirt. You’re failing because you flirt like a cartoon heart attack. There’s nothing authentic about it..”

He blinked at you. “…Huh?”

You grinned. “There's nothing I'm complaining about, though. I think it's really cute. The best kind of complement is the one that sounds like you didn’t rehearse it a hundred times in the mirror.”

Sanji looked thoughtful. “But what if I mess up? Say something stupid?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Sanji, you do say something stupid every single time you meet a woman and they still smile at you. Imagine what would happen if you were just… you. The sweet, reliable, passionate, incredible cook who makes the best damn meals on the sea and puts his heart into everything he does.” Sanji’s ears turned pink. You leaned in, voice teasing. “That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy.”

He sputtered, waving smoke away from his cigarette. “S Stop saying things like that. I’m trying to focus!”

You giggled, twirling a lock of your hair. “Fine, fine. You want real advice?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” You folded your arms and nodded. “Step one: Calm down. You don’t need to win someone’s heart in ten seconds. Stop making it a performance and start making it a conversation.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“Step two: Ask her questions. Not just compliments. Be curious about who she is, not just how she looks.”

“Right…”

“And step three,” you said, tapping his forehead, “don’t chase. Just be. If she likes you, she’ll come closer. And if she doesn’t… you don’t need to change who you are to impress her.”

Sanji looked down at you genuinely, for a moment no exaggerated grin, no dramatic swoon. “You really think that’ll work?”

You smiled warmly. “I know it will. You’ve already got everything you need. You just need to believe someone could fall for you”

He stared at you in silence for a moment. “You’d make a hell of a love doctor, [Y/N].”

“I take payment in dessert,” you winked.

Sanji chuckled softly, then took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it overboard. “Right away madamoiselle”

You shrugged playfully. “Good boy now go do your thing” As he turned to head back to the kitchen, you called after him, “Sanji?” He glanced back, his usual grin starting to sneak back into place. You smiled. “The right girl? She’ll see you. Just give her the chance.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Then I’ll make sure I’m someone worth seeing.” with that, he vanished into the galley.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The world was quiet tonight. The sea whispered gently against the hull of the Thousand Sunny, and the breeze that swept through the ship’s open deck was crisp, carrying the smell of salt and the faintest trace of spices from the galley below. The crew had all gone off to their own little corners of the ship some reading, some napping, and others chattering softly out of earshot.

You lay in the middle of the main deck, arms stretched out to your sides, eyes wide open to the tapestry of stars overhead. The wind moved through your hair, playing with strands like it was trying to keep you company. But the real comfort came from just a few feet away Brook sat atop a crate, bathed in the soft, swaying light of the lanterns above, his long bony fingers gliding across the strings of his violin.

It wasn’t his usual upbeat, silly melody the ones he played to make Chopper dance or to accompany some skull joke. No, this was something else. Something soft. Thoughtful. The kind of song that didn’t need lyrics to speak. It trickled into your chest like warm tea in cold hands. It held something gentle and aching in every note. You stared at the stars, your lashes still and unmoving. Your chest rose and fell in time with the music. And somewhere between the quiet and the chords, your mind drifted to him.

Sanji.

You let the name echo in your thoughts. You didn’t try to chase it away. You smiled faintly. He had fallen for someone. You didn’t know her. You didn’t need to. You could tell by the way he spoke, by the way he looked different lately. Softer, more grounded. Less dramatic for show, and more… sincere. Like there was someone he genuinely wanted to be better for. And gods, it was so like him. That hopeless romantic heart of his. That constant need to give everything to someone who made his heart flutter.

And you? You had always laughed with him. Teased him when he did his little twirls or dropped to one knee in front of any woman in a ten mile radius. You’d rolled your eyes, called him ridiculous, joked that his flirtations were more extra than Zoro’s vendetta against stairs.

But you’d never said the truth. Not once. That sometimes, when he smiled at you not as a flirt, but just you your heart would skip. That there were moments when you thought maybe… maybe you were the one he’d fall for if he ever took a real chance. But he hadn’t. he was chasing someone else. Someone who made him nervous. You let out a soft breath, eyes still on the stars, a weight pressing gently against your ribs.

It wasn’t a jealous hurt. You were happy for him. Truly. It was just the kind of ache that came from wondering what if. Brook’s melody shifted slightly higher, like a question being asked in the dark. As if he knew.

You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just felt. Because it was okay to feel it. To mourn something that was never yours. To lie under the stars and let the music carry the weight of your silence.

you thought of him. Of the way his voice softened when he wasn’t being loud. Of how he always made your plate first when he knew you were having a bad day. Of how, sometimes, you imagined what it would be like if those small gestures were something more. Your fingers curled slightly against the wood. Another breeze passed over you, lifting your hair gently, and you blinked slowly, your gaze still locked on the sky.

The music swelled one last time before fading into the hush of the ocean, Just one song. One quiet night. One unspoken heartache. And then the world was still again. You lay there, unmoving, letting the silence settle. though the ache was still there, something inside you softened too like maybe, even if the story you wanted wasn’t yours, the chapter was still worth feeling.

“Did you know,” Brook began, his voice soft in the night air, “that the stars you see are sometimes already dead?”

You blinked slowly, then smiled, lips barely curving. “That’s… kind of depressing, Brook.”

“Yohoho, perhaps,” he chuckled lightly, “but it’s also strangely beautiful, don’t you think? That something can shine even after it’s gone.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess I like that.”

There was a beat of silence, “Do you think Luffy’s ever tried to eat a star?”

You snorted. “Absolutely. ”

Brook let out a full laugh, his ribs gently rattling with the motion. “I should write that down for a new lyric. ‘I reached for a star and bit down on a dream delicious!’”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “That is so cheesy.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you. You listened to the creak of the ship, the soft splash of water against the hull, and the distant thrum of something in the engine room probably Franky still working on some little project with his usual midnight energy.

Brook tilted his skull back. “Do you think fish sleep?”

“I think they have to. Maybe with one eye open. Like Zoro.”

Brook nodded solemnly. “Scary.”

You giggled and rolled over onto your stomach, resting your chin on your forearms. “What about skeletons? Do they sleep?”

Brook tapped his chin. “Hmm… difficult to say. I don’t have eyelids, so I’ve never actually seen myself do it.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Not as exhausting as trying to take a bath when you don’t have skin.”

“Brook, what ”

“And on the subject of things I can’t do… may I see your panties?”

You stopped. Deadpan. Emotionless. You slowly pushed yourself up from the deck, brushing some hair from your face as you gave him the flattest look in the history of facial expressions.

Brook clasped his hands politely. “it would be such a lovely gesture.”

You pointed toward the hallway with a single, resigned finger. “You’re done.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“You’re done,” you repeated, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “That’s it. Conversation’s over. Pack it up, skeleton.”

“Wait, my dear! I merely !”

You walked off toward the girls’ quarters without another word, your hand raised in a lazy wave behind you.

“Goodnight, Brook.”

He sighed behind you. “Ah, the pain of rejection. It cuts deeper than the Grand Line’s fog!”

You kept walking, hiding your smile. from behind you, drifting in the sea kissed night, came a final, cheerful:

“Sweet dreams! Yohohohoho!”

You shook your head as the door closed behind you, smiling to yourself. Even heartbreak couldn’t compete with this crew’s ridiculousness.

The soft creak of the ship accompanied your entrance as you returned to the girls’ quarters, your steps light but tired from the long, quiet moment you’d had with Brook on the deck. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly as you passed the threshold, the warm lamplight casting a cozy glow across the room.

Nami was sprawled comfortably on the couch with a drink in hand, her legs tucked under her, a mischievous glint already dancing in her eyes. Robin sat nearby in an armchair, book in hand, but she looked up as you entered.

“There she is,” Nami announced, smirking knowingly as she took another sip. “Have fun with our resident skeleton?”

You plopped down beside her with a hum, grabbing a pillow to hug against your chest. “It was nice. He played something soft. Kinda hit me in the heart a little.”

Robin’s smile deepened slightly. “Brook’s music often does.”

Nami raised a brow. “I have a love hate relationship with that man”

“Well…I couldnt blame you” You grinned. “It got weird eventually. I left before he could ask about my underwear.”

“EW LETS BURN HIM” Nami choked, laughing.

“shhhhh bed time now,” you confirmed, deadpan.

Nami snorted, shaking her head before she shifted back to her earlier topic with Robin, eyes alight with playful mischief. “I’m just saying,” she said, raising her glass again, “whoever this woman is… poor, poor soul. She has no idea what she’s walking into.”

You wheezed, pressing the pillow to your face. “Nami!”

“I mean it!” she cackled. “Can you imagine Sanji not spinning around like a lovesick ballerina the second she smiles at him? He’d probably burst into a heart shaped firework just from holding her hand.”

Robin chuckled behind her book, one elegant brow lifting. “He does tend to be… passionate.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed, eyes watering,

“Don’t forget the nosebleed,” Nami added, clinking her glass in the air.

The room burst into another round of giggles, warm and breathless, echoing softly around the cabin. It felt like home. But then your smile softened. You clutched the pillow a little tighter and leaned back against the cushions, your laughter quieting as your thoughts drifted slightly. “…I think it’s kind of cute, though,” you murmured.

Nami blinked and looked over. “What, that he’s basically a walking romance novel?”

You shook your head, smiling more to yourself than to them. “No. That he’s finally trying to take something seriously.”

Robin gently set her book down, her eyes curious and warm. Nami tilted her head, her teasing expression melting into one of genuine interest. You took a breath and let your voice settle. “I mean, sure, Sanji flirts like he’s getting paid for it. But this time? It’s different. He actually cares. You can see it in how he talks, how he moves. Like… he wants to be better. Not just charming genuine. That’s kind of huge for him.”

Nami leaned her elbow against the armrest, watching you closely. Her smirk faded into something quieter.

“He asked me for advice,” you added, fingers fiddling with the edge of the pillow. “that's so lame and cute”

Robin offered a soft, thoughtful smile. “It sounds like he’s growing.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I know we all tease him believe me, I’ll never stop but part of me is proud of him, you know? He’s not trying to win over a dozen hearts. Just one.”

There was a quiet moment. The kind that wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Even the waves outside seemed to hush themselves. Nami exhaled loudly and flopped back. “Ugh. I hate that you made that sound sweet.”

You burst out laughing, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Because it is! He’s ridiculous, but he’s sincere when it counts.”

Nami pointed at you with a lazy glare. “If this ends with him writing sonnets and reciting them at dinner, I will throw myself overboard.”

“Good,” you grinned, “I’ll write your eulogy.”

Robin’s smile turned amused again. “Maybe the sea really will turn to wine next.”

You stretched out with a yawn, heart just a little lighter than before. “Or maybe our little chef’s finally found someone worth changing for.”

The room quieted again, the gentle rhythm of the ship rocking beneath you. Somewhere in the galley, a chair scraped faintly, a sign that Sanji was still awake, maybe cleaning, maybe daydreaming.

The kitchen was clean. Spotless, even. Every dish dried and put away, the counters gleaming, the scent of lemon and herbs still lingering faintly in the air.

Sanji stood alone at the center island, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other loosely holding a bottle of wine he hadn’t poured yet. The glass in front of him remained empty, catching the golden glow from the overhead lanterns.

His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, collar a little undone. His tie hung around his neck, loose and forgotten. His hair fell in front of his eyes in soft curls as he hunched over the counter and let out a long, slow breath.

“…Idiot,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Stupid, stupid idiot.”

The cork creaked as he pulled it out of the wine bottle, then set it aside. He didn’t pour it yet just stared at the glass like it had personally offended him.

“Of course you asked her for advice,” he mumbled sarcastically, voice full of self mockery. “Genius move, really. Go ask the woman you’re in love with how to win someone else over. Brilliant. Next level romance tactics.”

He sighed, dropping into one of the stools, elbows on the counter, bottle still in hand.

“She probably thinks I’m pathetic. No worse. She probably pities me.” He leaned his head forward until it thudded lightly against the counter. “And then she said I was cute.”

His face flushed immediately.

His voice dropped to a quieter murmur, warm with memory. “She said I was cute just the way I am.”

He let the thought hang in the silence, echoing a little louder in the privacy of the kitchen than it had in the moment it happened. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard.

She’d said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was obvious.

Sanji rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twitching. “So what do you do, huh?” he asked no one. “You take that… softness, that little bit of warmth, and you turn around and act like your heart belongs to someone else? You let her believe that?”

He sat back up and finally poured the wine. The liquid splashed neatly into the glass, dark and rich. He stared at it, jaw tight.

“She probably thinks I’m in love with this new pretend woman. And I let her think that.”

He took a sip. He winced.

“Idiot.”

The word came out smaller this time. Not angry. Just… tired. He swirled the glass slowly, watching the way the wine clung to the sides. What was he even doing?

It wasn’t that he meant to lie. He just… panicked. He didn’t know how to say, “Hey, it’s you. It’s been you.” Not without ruining everything. Not without seeing her look at him with pity or worse, discomfort.

So instead, he twisted the truth into something safe. Something that would let her stay close, even if it meant she’d never know the real reason his heart pounded every time she smiled. And now here he was. With wine. And a thousand regrets. Sanji leaned back in his stool and stared at the ceiling.

“…That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy..”

He smiled faintly. Just for a second.

Then he took another drink and muttered again, quietly: “Yeah. Still an idiot.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun rose bright and golden, casting warm beams across the deck of the Thousand Sunny. The sea was calm today blue skies, soft waves, and the smell of salt on the breeze. It was the kind of morning that promised a good day, or at the very least, a good breakfast.

You stepped out from the girls’ quarters with a sleepy yawn, your hair a little messy and your shirt slightly rumpled from tossing in bed. The moment your feet touched the deck, you felt it a strong pair of hands grabbed yours and spun you into the air.

“FOOOOOOD!!” Luffy shouted, laughing with wild energy.

“Luffy!” you squealed, dizzy but giggling as he twirled you around in a circle like a child with a new toy.

“I can smell it! Sanji’s cooking something amazing!” he cried, holding your hands as he danced with you in a crooked circle. “It’s meat day, I know it!”

You laughed breathlessly as he practically bounced on his heels, his enthusiasm contagious. “You say that every day!”

“Yeah, because I want it every day!” Luffy grinned, his wide, carefree smile beaming down at you. “Sanji’s meat is the best meat ever!”

“Phrasing, Luffy,” Nami said dryly from behind, stepping up onto the deck with a stretch and a mug of coffee.

Robin followed her, calm as ever, a book already tucked under one arm. “Morning,” she greeted softly.

“Morning!” you chirped, finally freed from Luffy’s grasp and straightening your shirt with a grin. “Someone’s fired up today.”

“Sanji’s breakfast are always special,” Luffy said seriously, his head already swiveling toward the galley. “He’s gonna make the eggs all fancy again, I can feel it in my soul.”

“You don’t have a soul,” Zoro muttered from where he was leaning against the railing, clearly only half awake.

“YOU don’t have a soul!” Luffy snapped back without hesitation.

You laughed as Chopper popped up beside you, sniffing the air excitedly. “Is that cinnamon? I think he’s making pancakes too!”

“Cinnamon and meat?!” Luffy gasped, dramatically grabbing you again by the shoulders and shaking you gently. “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE BEST FOOD EVER!”

You snorted. “Luffy, please. I haven’t even had water yet.”

From inside the galley, the sound of pots clanging and something sizzling filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of breakfast being prepared with far too much care for people who would inhale it in under ten minutes. Sanji’s silhouette passed by the window briefly, towel over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his mouth, sleeves already rolled up. He was in his element.

“C’mon, let’s set the table!” Chopper called, already hurrying to grab the cutlery.

Luffy started dragging you with him, eyes sparkling. “Come on come on come on come ooooon!”

You stumbled along after him with a laugh, glancing once toward the galley door as you passed. You caught the faintest glimpse of Sanji inside, wiping his hands and adjusting a tray of fruit focused, meticulous, and humming under his breath. He didn’t look up. Still, the sight made your chest warm for a second.

“FOOD!” Luffy yelled again.

And just like that, your feet left the deck once more as the world spun in circles and laughter echoed in the salt sweet air.

The dining table was already packed with plates steaming stacks of cinnamon pancakes, golden and fluffy, with fresh berries glistening like jewels. Plates of sliced fruit and scrambled eggs surrounded platters of sizzling meat, toast with butter that melted on contact, and glasses of fresh juice so vibrant they looked like sunlight in a cup. Everyone was in their place, Luffy practically vibrating with excitement as he bounced in his seat, holding himself back with visible restraint. Chopper was wide eyed, murmuring a small, “Wow,” under his breath. Brook had already begun singing softly to himself in the background, adding a calm rhythm to the buzz of morning chatter.

And then came Sanji.

He emerged from the galley with the final tray a dish of roasted vegetables and sweet sausages, perfectly arranged. His sleeves were still rolled up, his apron dusted lightly with flour, and his hair slightly tousled from the heat of the kitchen.

“Ladies,” he announced with a low, charming bow, “your breakfast has arrived.”

He moved first to Nami, as always, placing her plate in front of her with graceful precision. “For you, my lovely Nami swan, with extra honey on your pancakes just the way you like.”

She smirked behind her mug of coffee. “Charming as always, Sanji.”

“And for you, divine Robin chwan,” he said next, setting her dish down with a delicate touch. “Light seasoning, a side of papaya, and just a pinch of powdered sugar.”

Robin gave him a small, pleased smile. “Thank you. You’re quite attentive.”

And then he turned to you.

You were mid sip of juice when he knelt beside you instead of merely leaning over. The tray he carried was smaller, more focused. A beautiful arrangement of all your favorites crispy hash browns, folded omelet with cheese and herbs, pancakes with caramel drizzle and sliced bananas, and a perfectly cut piece of grilled sausage shaped like a little heart.

“Mon trésor,” he said softly, offering the tray like it was a gift more than a plate. “Everything you love. And I made the syrup myself.”

Your breath caught slightly, caught off guard by the subtle, extra sparkle in his eyes. He looked… softer, not just playful. Like this breakfast wasn’t just breakfast. Like he’d memorized your taste for reasons he hadn’t admitted yet.

You blinked, then gave him a slow, teasing smile. “You didn’t carve a heart sausage for the others, did you?”

“No,” he replied smoothly. “Only for the one who deserves it.”

You felt Nami’s stare from the other side of the table and heard Luffy inhale sharply next to you like he’d just discovered something juicy.

“Sanji…” you said, eyes narrowing playfully, “what are you up to?”

“Nothing at all,” he lied, setting the plate down with a flourish. “Only offering the best to the woman who brightens this ship more than the sunrise.”

Robin chuckled quietly. Nami straight up snorted into her coffee.

You stared at him, suspicious and amused. “Is this still about mystery lady you like?”

Sanji didn’t answer right away. His smile twitched just slightly, eyes flickering across your face like he wanted to say something more but instead, he straightened with that classic, smooth grin.

“Only a fool wouldn’t treat someone as radiant as you like royalty,” he said simply, giving a little bow before turning away to serve the others. You glanced down at the heart shaped sausage. Something fluttered in your chest.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡You were mid bite into your syrup drenched pancakes when Nami slapped your shoulder with the back of her hand.

“OW !” you yelped, nearly dropping your fork. “What?!”

“Did you see that?!” she hissed, leaning in, her eyes wide with scandalized amusement.

“Mf what ?” you mumbled through a mouthful of food, blinking.

Nami grabbed a napkin and pretended to casually wipe her mouth, voice low and fast. “Girl, that wasn’t just flirting..”

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You choked slightly.

Robin, still reading her book nearby, turned a page without looking up. “I think it was quite romantic.”

You turned to Nami, whispering hotly, “Okay, okay, I know, I’m sitting right here !”

Nami snickered, eyes sparkling like she was witnessing a live soap opera. “Don’t ‘I know’ me. I’ve never seen him look like that before. And he’s Sanji. His flirting is practically a weather system.”

You felt your face heat up, the kind of warmth that crept from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You reached for your juice, mostly for something to do with your hands. “Maybe he was just being… nice.”

“Oh yeah,” Nami drawled. “Super nice…. because he’s reaaaaaal nice”

You groaned into your hands. “Nami, please. He likes someone else, remember?”

That sobered her slightly. She leaned back, eyes narrowing with a more thoughtful glint. “Right. The ‘mystery woman.’” Then she gave you a side glance. “are you sure he said someone not on this ship?”

You bit your lip, still smiling on the outside, but there was a tug behind your ribs. A quiet little twist. Your eyes drifted back to the galley doors where he’d disappeared, probably humming while he finished up dishes or prepared Luffy’s inevitable third round. He’d looked so proud when he’d set your plate down. So sure of what he was doing. So… hopeful.

Nami tilted her head. “So… he’s head over heels and trying to grow a pair finally”

“Yeah.” You toyed with your juice glass, swirling the contents. “I think he actually wants it to mean something. For once.”

Nami let out a low whistle, then narrowed her eyes at you. “And how do you feel about that?”

You hesitated. “I mean… proud. I guess. I know we joke about how ridiculous he is, but… I think it’s really sweet he’s trying.”

She watched you for a beat too long. “But?”

Your smile faltered a little. You looked down at your plate.

“…But I feel kind of stupid,” you admitted softly.

Nami frowned. “Why?”

“Because the whole time I was helping him figure out how to win her over, I kept thinking…” You trailed off, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Never mind.”

Nami leaned closer. “Hey. Come on.”

You finally looked at her, cheeks warm. “I kept thinking how nice it would be if it was… me.”

There was a pause. Nami’s eyes softened. “Damn,” she whispered.

You elbowed her, laughing despite the ache in your chest. “Shut up.”

Robin closed her book with a soft snap. “Well… whoever she is, she must be someone very special.”

You smiled, a little more bittersweet this time, and took another bite of pancake. “Yeah,” you murmured. “She must be.”

Your fingers gently pushed a piece of banana around your plate.

He doesn’t love you. Not really. Even if part of him wants to. Even if you wish you’d said something before he asked for advice on how to love someone else.

Still blushing, you turned back to Nami, managing a weak grin. “I think I need more juice.”

as you stood, your eyes lingered one last time toward the galley. Just in time to see Sanji peek out just briefly like he was checking if you were enjoying your meal. Your heart squeezed, and you looked away before your smile gave too much away. He was trying so hard. Too bad it wasn’t for you.

The kitchen was warm with the scent of baked bread and spices when you wandered in, the early morning hush broken only by the soft clink of utensils and the faint sound of Sanji humming to himself. He stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, focused on arranging plates like he was crafting art instead of breakfast.

You leaned against the doorway with a small grin.

“Morning, loverboy.”

He jolted ever so slightly, a spoon slipping from his fingers and bouncing on the counter with a quiet clatter. “Tch must you sneak up on me like that?”

“I announced myself,” you said, walking in. “You’re just easy to rattle before coffee.”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving you a crooked smile. “If I’m rattled, it’s only because an angel wandered into my kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver as you made your way toward the pitcher of juice near the sink.

“I’m just here for this,” you said, reaching for a glass.

But before you could pour it, Sanji stepped beside you, brushing past with effortless grace. His hand slipped gently around your waist not holding, not lingering, just enough to move you an inch to the side so he could reach the pitcher.

“Allow me,” he said smoothly, as if he did this every morning. As if his hand hadn’t just sent a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

He poured the juice calmly, setting the glass down in front of you with a soft “Here you go.”

You took it, blinking, and looked down for a second to ground yourself before flashing him a smile.

“Thanks.”

Sanji leaned against the counter casually, watching you with that faint smile of his, the one that held just enough softness to make your chest feel tight. You took a sip, pretending not to notice the way your skin still buzzed faintly where he’d touched you. “Breakfast smells good.”

“Only the best for my favorite ladies,” he said smoothly

You looked down into your juice. “The food was delicious”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Im happy that I could be of service”

You glanced at him from over the rim of your glass. “You do that everyday amazingly”

He tilted his head, just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I just like the smile it puts on your face.”

You nearly choked. You lifted your glass. “Careful, chef. Keep that up and the mysterious girl you’re into might get jealous.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You meant it as a joke. A tease. A shield. Sanji’s smile faltered just for a second. His gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable there.

Then he laughed, but it was quieter this time. “I'm sure she wouldn’t mind.”

You turned slightly, sipping your juice to hide your expression. Your heart did something unhelpful and fluttery. The touch of his hand still lingered like a phantom against your waist. “Well,” you said, eyes on the glass, “if she’s smart, she’ll hold on tight.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, but you felt his gaze trail after you all the way to the door.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ cobblestone streets winding between open stalls, music playing faintly in the distance, and the smell of fresh pastries wafting through the air. With no mission scheduled, the Straw Hats had the rare gift of a free day on land. Naturally, you and Usopp took full advantage of it. You’d only been out for five minutes and had already stopped at three shops none of which you bought anything from. “Okay,” you said, holding up a ridiculous, oversized feathered hat from a vendor’s stall. “If I wear this, you think people will start treating me like royalty?”

Usopp struck a dramatic pose beside you. “You're so ratchet but it might work if I’m your royal advisor slash bodyguard slash legendary sniper.”

“So, your usual job?”

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “But Id be more likea knight and shining armour”

You snorted, putting the hat on Usopp’s head instead. “There. Now you look like a circus magician with tax fraud.”

He gasped in mock betrayal. “You take that back! This hat is limited edition!”

“Limited to what? Crimes against fashion?”

The vendor, who’d been quietly observing your antics, stifled a laugh while pretending to dust off some trinkets. Usopp adjusted the hat “You laugh now, but when I unveil my next great invention Usopp’s Amazing Weather Manipulation Cloak everyone will be begging to buy this look.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, starting to walk down the street with him. “And what does this miracle cloak do?”

He puffed out his chest. “Simple. It changes the weather according to your mood. Sunny when you’re happy, storms when you’re mad ”

“So basically, you want to create a walking hazard to public safety? we will be taking away Nami’s job”

“Exactly!”

You cackled, nearly tripping over a barrel. “God, it’s a good thing Chopper’s the doctor and not you.”

“Hey! My inventions have some scientific basis!”

You gave him a look. “Like when you tried to glue mirrors to your boots so you could ‘sneak around corners’?”

Usopp immediately turned red. “That was strategic! I was testing the laws of physics!”

“You blinded yourself.”

“shall we not dwell on the past you fiend”

You were both doubled over laughing by now, dodging around carts and weaving between market stalls. A group of kids ran past you squealing, and you barely missed getting smacked in the face with a balloon on a string. You eventually slowed near a little fountain in the town square, both of you catching your breath.

Usopp leaned on the edge of the fountain dramatically. “Man… why cant all days we stay like this.”

You took a sip from your water bottle and collapsed beside him on the ledge. “That isnt great warrior of the sea of you.”

The breeze picked up, brushing through your hair, and you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment just long enough for Usopp to break it. “Do you think Sanji would survive if we came back wearing matching ‘I ❤️ Zoro’ shirts?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. He’d implode.”

“immediate death then we’d get kicked off the ship.”

The sun glinted off the surface of the fountain water as you sat side by side with Usopp, still catching your breath from all the laughter. A light breeze picked up, rustling the colorful banners strung between rooftops and carrying the smell of sea salt and warm bread.

You were about to comment on how this was the first day in a while that felt truly peaceful when Usopp suddenly elbowed your arm.

“Hey, hey,” he said, nodding toward a stall across the square, “look who’s working his magic.”

You followed his gaze and immediately spotted Sanji. He was standing by a small fruit stall, all smiles and flowing compliments. The woman behind it a pretty local vendor was blushing furiously as Sanji offered to help carry something for her. His hand brushed hers lightly, and he flashed that dazzling, practiced grin you’d seen him give a thousand times before.

You swallowed, your smile fading just slightly. You tried to hide it, keeping your tone light.

“Guess that’s her, huh?” you murmured, glancing down at your hands in your lap.

Usopp blinked. “Her?”

You nodded faintly. “The one he asked me advice about. Makes sense, doesn’t it? We’ve been on this island for a week. He probably met her on one of those early grocery runs or something.”

Usopp looked back at the scene Sanji carefully adjusting the strap on the woman’s basket, saying something low that made her giggle and then back at you.

You gave a small sigh, more to yourself than anything. “She’s really pretty.”

Usopp’s face scrunched up, seeing the drop in your expression. “Hey, hey don’t go all mopey on me. You don’t even know if that’s the girl. He flirts with everything that moves.”

You laughed, despite yourself, but it was a little quieter than usual. Usopp, sensing he needed to go full Usopp mode, jumped to his feet. “Alright,” he said dramatically, striking a pose. “There’s only one thing to do in moments of emotional distress.”

You looked up, suspicious. “Usopp, what are you ”

“ Distraction via comedy!” he yelled, grabbing your hand with a flourish. “Come on, I’ll perform the Dance of a Thousand Legends!”

“What?!”

Before you could brace yourself, he spun you in an overly exaggerated twirl your legs tangled, your foot caught on the edge of the fountain

And with a splash, you were completely submerged in the cool, shallow water.

Usopp’s eyes went wide. “NO NO WAIT THAT WASN’T ”

You popped up, soaked from head to toe, blinking water out of your lashes, hair plastered to your cheeks.

“…Usopp,” you said slowly, voice eerily calm.

He held up both hands. “In my defense, that was the wind.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching despite yourself. “The wind spun me into the fountain?”

“It was a team effort.”

A beat of silence passed. Then you both cracked up. Laughter echoed around the fountain again, loud and genuine and ridiculous. A few people turned to look, but you didn’t care. Usopp offered you his hand with a grin, and this time, you took it just to yank him in with you. Another splash. Another shriek. Now you were both drenched, flailing in the fountain like overgrown children. You forgot about Sanji. You forgot about the girl. For the moment, there was just laughter, water, and one very amazing best friend who knew exactly how to pull you back to the surface.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The dock came into view, and you and Usopp were practically wheezing from laughter as you stumbled down the path toward the ship, clothes still slightly damp from your earlier fountain mishap. Your makeshift T shirts handwritten in bold, messy letters with black marker proudly declared:

“I ❤️ ZORO”

Usopp kept pausing every few steps to bend over, hands on his knees, cackling like he hadn’t laughed in years.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, holding your side. “The look on his face is going to kill me.”

“I’m not ready,” Usopp panted, straightening up. “We need to be serious. Completely serious. No laughing.”

You immediately broke into another fit of laughter. “I already can’t breathe, how do you expect me to be serious?”

When the ship came fully into view, you shared a silent nod.

You both climbed up the ramp with as much drama as two theater kids about to win an award. The sun glinted off your ridiculous shirts as you stormed aboard like you were coming back from war. Zoro was on the deck, leaning against the mast with a toothpick in his mouth, sword at his hip, arms crossed like he definitely hadn’t been napping two minutes ago. His eyes flicked up in your direction and immediately narrowed.

You and Usopp struck matching poses. Team Rocket who?

“Zoro~!” you cooed, spinning in a slow circle to show off your shirt. “Look what we got made just for you~!”

Usopp threw both arms out. “We’re your number one fans!”

Zoro stared for a full second. “What the hell is wrong with you two.”

“Love does strange things to a person,” you said seriously, clutching your chest like you were about to faint.

“Speak for yourself,” Usopp added, holding his hand out to Zoro. “Your number one admirer. Autograph, please?”

Zoro’s face didn’t change. “You’re both idiots.”

“And proud,” you shot back with a wink.

Zoro turned, started walking away.

Usopp gasped. “Wait! Are you running from your feelings?”

“I swear, I will cut those shirts off you.”

“I’d love for you to try,” you said, chasing after him like a lovesick fangirl. “Zorooo~ come back~!”

Zoro grunted, picking up the pace, muttering something about needing to train which was definitely just code for escape. You and Usopp high fived triumphantly behind him, nearly doubled over with laughter.

“I’m giving us full credit,” you wheezed.

“As you should,” Usopp grinned. “This is peak comedy.”

The rest of the crew could only stare in confusion, amusement, or deep concern as the two of you continued your dramatic pursuit across the deck, yelling declarations of love at a very, very done swordsman. Somewhere near the helm, Franky raised an eyebrow, watching you dart after Zoro with your wet hair still dripping and marker all over your shirt. He blinked.

“…so like I need that shirt” he muttered.

Nami, passing by with a drink, didn’t look up. “No. No, you don’t.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves lapping gently against the docked ship. You stood near the edge of the deck, your still soaked hair dripping quietly onto the wood below as you twisted it in your hands, trying to wring out as much water as you could. The sea breeze lifted the ends of your hair and shirt, still clinging damply to your frame. Your laughter from earlier with Usopp had faded into a peaceful calm now, the kind that settles in after the hecticness dies down and your chest is sore from joy.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji stood just a few feet away frozen.

His cigarette hung lazily from his lips, forgotten.

The way the setting sun hit you glistening droplets trailing down your neck, the soft curve of your smile even in silence it was like something out of one of his daydreams. His heart gave a strange little flutter, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. Sparkles. Literal sparkles.

He sighed, eyes softening like he didn’t even realize he was staring. then… he saw it. The shirt. “I ❤️ ZORO.”

His jaw clenched. The sparkles popped like a bubble. His eye twitched. “Zoro?” He looked around as if to yell “WHY ZORO?!” to the gods themselves.

Muttering something under his breath that might’ve included “blasphemous,” Sanji snuffed out his cigarette and made his way toward you, trying his best to look composed like his heart hadn’t just been broken by marker ink.

You heard soft footsteps behind you before you felt the gentle weight of a towel placed across your shoulders.

“Dry off properly,” Sanji said, voice low but kind. “You’ll catch a cold standing around like that.”

You blinked, looking over your shoulder at him in surprise.

“Oh thank you,” you said, taking the towel and patting your face first, then moving to your hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave a puddle. Again.”

He gave a small shake of his head, kneeling down slightly to help towel off the ends of your hair. “Don’t apologize. You looked like a drowned cat earlier. Now you look like a damp angel.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “You were doing so well. So close to normal.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, fingers brushing your shoulder briefly before pulling back. “You’re lucky I care whether you freeze to death.”

You looked at him then, soft towel still pressed to your hair, and his gaze met yours for a second too long.

“…Thanks, Sanji,” you said again, a little more sincerely this time.

His hand hovered like he wanted to reach for you again, but then his eyes flicked back to your shirt. The grimace returned instantly.

“He doesnt deserve that,” he muttered, standing up straight.

You laughed as he turned away. “HEY! hes so babygirl I cant help it” you called after him.

“he is absolutely not” he shouted back. “You want breakfast tomorrow? Say goodbye to that shirt!” You grinned to yourself, towel wrapped around your shoulders, and turned back toward the waves, a little warmer than you’d been before.

Sanji had only made it a few steps before turning on his heel with a fresh spark of dramatics and indignation blazing in his eyes. “Actually,” he said, pointing directly at your chest well, your shirt, but it didn’t help his case “take that off.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“That shirt!” he sputtered, already flailing slightly. “That insult to fashion and common decency take it off!”

Your grin curled like a mischievous wave. “Oh? So you do want me to take my clothes off.”

He froze Eyes wide. Face immediately red. “No I mean yes wait, NO!”

You burst into laughter, doubling over slightly with the towel still wrapped around your shoulders. “Wow, Sanji. I didn’t think you’d be so bold! Here? Out in the open?”

“That’s not ! That’s not what I meant, don’t twist my words like that!” he wailed, fanning himself with one hand, his other flailing like he was fighting off a swarm of bees. “I just I meant the shirt! Not ! Not you being ! Naked ! I mean, not that I’d mind NO, WAIT !”

You were fully wheezing now, nearly stumbling over the dock as you clutched the towel and your ribs.

“I can’t believe this is the hill you chose to die on,” you giggled.

He groaned into his hands. “This is not what I meant! Mosshead doesn’t deserve to be worshipped like that, not even ironically! What does he have that I don’t, huh?!”

You tilted your head with an evil sparkle in your eye. “You mean besides incredible muscle mass, a mysterious bad boy attitude, and oh my god hes just so handsome”

Sanji looked like you’d kicked him in the soul.

“I I have !” He pointed to himself, eyes wide, desperate. “I can cook! I’m chivalrous! I’d rather die than let you even get a scratch, i bet he wouldn’t even–”

You raised a brow, still smirking. “So… you’re saying you want me to wear your name on my shirt?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Blushed so hard he practically glowed.

Then muttered, “if it’s written in chocolate on you everything would change.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure if he meant on a shirt or on your skin, but judging by how red his ears were now, he wasn’t sure either.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you snorted, shaking your head and heading toward the ramp.

“You started it!” he called after you, still flustered and pointing. “I’m redeeming fashion! I’m doing the Lord’s work!”

You turned just slightly, giving him a wink.

“Sure, loverboy. Let me know when your merch line drops.” You disappeared up the ship, leaving a very red, very confused Sanji behind with his towel and shattered pride.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡Everyone had long since gone to bed, their laughter fading into soft snores behind closed doors.

Except you.

Sleep just… wasn’t happening. No matter how many times you rolled over or how tightly you hugged your pillow, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. So you gave up, slipped into a loose sweater and shorts, and padded softly down the hall barefoot toward the kitchen. you padded softly into the kitchen, hoping some warm tea or leftover fruit might help settle your restless thoughts.

What you didn’t expect was the dim glow of the kitchen lamp already on… or the disheveled blond figure hunched over on the bench beneath the window.

“Sanji?”

His head lifted slowly. His tie was loose and crooked, shirt half buttoned, and his hair messier than usual like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. His cheeks were flushed a faint rose, and his eyes were just the wrong kind of glossy.

He blinked, then smiled like he was watching the sun rise for the first time.

“Angel,” he breathed. “You really do walk on clouds, don’t you?”

You blinked, caught a little off guard by how fast he perked up.

“Hey, hey easy there, loverboy,” you said with a chuckle, walking over and gently placing your hands on his shoulders to ease him back down. “Calm down, big boy.” You couldn’t help a snort. “Okay, Casanova, how many glasses in are you?”

He held up two fingers… then thought about it and added a third. “10.”

“Right.”

You walked past him to the counter and grabbed a clean cup, filling it with water. “You’re lucky it’s me and not Zoro. He’d have tied you to the mast for being this loud.”

“He’s just jealous of me,” Sanji mumbled dramatically, gaze following you the entire way.

You walked back to him, holding out the glass. “Drink this. You’re gonna regret whatever this is in the morning.”

He stared at the water. “But you’re the only thing I’m thirsty for ”

“Sanji,” you warned with a half laugh, plopping into the chair beside him and crossing your arms.

“Right. Water.” He took the glass and chugged it like it might turn into wine. “That was for you.”

“Thanks,” you snorted. “I feel incredibly hydrated by proxy.”

He swayed slightly and rested his cheek against his fist, still looking at you like you held the moon in your palms. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “You tell every girl that.”

“But I mean it more when it’s you,” he slurred softly.

Your lips parted, but the words didn’t come. There was something raw about how he said it. Like he wasn’t trying to charm you. Just… saying what he felt.

You swallowed and looked away for a second, staring at the quiet kitchen. “Why’re you drinking alone?”

He shrugged, shoulders loose and hazy. “Just thinking. About stupid things. About smart things that feel stupid. About shirts and swords and ” he hiccuped, “ how I’ll never be cool like Zoro.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Zoro wouldn’t even know how to turn on a stove.”

“I know!” Sanji whined. “I know. But he doesn’t need to. People just like him anyway. And you ” he paused, his voice dropping a little “you wore his name.”

That made you blink. You looked at him fully now. “Sanji…”

He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, burying his face in his arms against the table.

“I’m being dumb again, huh?” he mumbled. “I always get like this when you’re near. It’s like my brain turns into scrambled eggs.”

You watched him for a moment, your chest tight with something unspoken.

“…You’re not dumb,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “You’re just bad at pretending you don’t feel things.”

He peeked up at you, eyes soft.

You smiled gently. “It’s kinda… what I like about you.”

You sat down next to him on the bench, a comfortable space between you until Sanji, with absolutely zero hesitation, leaned into you and snuggled his head against your shoulder.

“Mmm.” His voice was muffled in your sweater. “You’re so warm. You smell like the sea and something sweet… like honey. Or cake. Or maybe youre just as sweet.”

You blinked, looking down at the mess of blond hair now nestled into you. You let him rest there, too tired to push him off and maybe not really wanting to. The kitchen was quiet aside from the ticking of the wall clock and the hum of the ship gently rocking with the waves. His body was warm against yours, heavy and content.

After a moment, you murmured, “You okay, Sanji?”

He let out a sigh, his breath hitting your collarbone. “Nope.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head lightly against his. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“…Want more water?”

“Only if you hold it for me like a baby bird.”

You snorted. “Yeah, you’re done.”

Sanji shifted slightly against you, cheek still pressed to your shoulder, but now his fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve tugging, releasing, tugging again. There was a quiet stillness in the kitchen, broken only by the ticking clock and the gentle sway of the ship. “…Hey,” he mumbled, voice thick and unsteady. “Can I ask you something?”

You glanced down at him, smile soft. “Sure.”

He hesitated, then pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. They were a little glassy from the wine, sure, but behind that, you saw something so cute and honest peeking through. He looked almost… scared.

“Do you…” He swallowed. “Do you actually like me? Like this?”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘like this’?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, face now red as a tomato. “I mean I know I’m kind of a disaster. I flirt too much, I say dumb stuff, I fall too fast, I… twirl around like an idiot half the time. But when I asked you for advice… I wasn’t ”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath, then turned back to you, expression completely open now, like he was laying his heart on the table next to the crumbs and the empty wine bottle.

“…I was trying to ask how to get you to like me.”

Time stopped. Literally, it felt like the kitchen froze. The air thickened, your heart skipped so hard it hurt, and your brain went completely blank except for one long, internal scream.

“W What?” you breathed.

He winced slightly, clearly mistaking your shock for horror. “I know I’m an idiot. I thought maybe if I asked like it was about someone else, it wouldn’t be so embarrassing. You’re just so amazing. You laugh at my jokes, you call me out when I’m being over the top, and you look at me like I’m… a person. Not a character.”

Your mouth opened and closed uselessly. “Wait. Wait.”

He kept going, barely able to meet your eyes now, fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your sweater. “I thought if I could just be better, maybe you’d see me differently. Maybe you’d want to give me a shot. I didn’t want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing so I thought… maybe you could tell me how to win over a girl like you. B But that’s stupid, right?”

It hit you like a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks wrapped in love letters and wine stained confessions. The girl he’d been talking about… the one he wanted to be better for, the one he asked about so earnestly… it wasn’t some island stranger.

It had been you.

Your breath hitched as your brain scrambled for a coherent thought. Your face burned so hot it might’ve glowed in the dark.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible. “Sanji.”

He was still looking down, shoulders tense, voice quiet and fragile. “Yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “You… you’re in love with me?”

His face practically exploded in red as he jerked his head back up to look at you, horrified. “I Wh What?! I mean yes?! No I mean dammit oui?! I didn’t mean to say it like that! I meant like not like, love love but maybe like a crush or oh god I’m drunk, ignore me ”

You pressed your hands to your cheeks, laughing way too high pitched, flustered beyond saving.

“Sanji,” you squeaked.

“I was so smooth in my head,” he groaned, burying his face into your shoulder again. “I had speeches and everything. Why did I drink five glasses?!”

You laughed again, covering your face. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Is that a yes idiot or a no idiot?”

You bit your lip, cheeks hot, heart racing as you looked down at the ridiculous, flustered man holding onto your arm like he might float away otherwise.

“…Maybe it’s a yes idiot,” you whispered.

His head whipped up. “What?!”

You smiled shyly. “Maybe I like you too. Just the way you are.”

He blinked. Then blinked again. And then

He passed out in your lap.

“…Unbelievable,” you muttered, flustered and smiling helplessly as you smoothed back his hair. “You really are the dumbest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Sanji: I just wanna eat you up… starting with a little nibble here and maybe a lick there

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[wingedhallows]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 southern/cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife reader ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 none ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 On a sunbaked afternoon at the ranch, Vi runs the stables with a steady hand and a sharp tongue—until her sweet wife drifts across the yard with biscuits, lemonade, and a smile like salvation. But when one of the ranch hands mouths off with more bitterness than brains, Vi doesn’t hesitate to remind him—and everyone else—exactly who her wife is and what she deserves. ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 YOO!! here's the 600 followers post! This is pure fluff & i'm so down for southern!vi, it's not even funny. got me kicking my feet and all!! i hope u like it as much as i do :)

♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎

Vi stood tall in the warm afternoon light, one hand perched on her hip, the other draped easy over the sun-bleached fence.

Sweat glistened on her boys’ foreheads as they worked the stables, muscles straining, boots kicking up dry earth. She watched with quiet command, every inch the boss, but calm as still water.

Then, the screen door gave a familiar creak—soft, almost shy—and there you were.

Gliding across the yard like a breeze on a blistering day, your sundress catching the sunlight, swaying around your knees like it had a rhythm all its own.

You carried a tray balanced just right, an offering of cold beers, fresh-squeezed lemonade, and golden biscuits still warm beneath a folded tea towel. You looked like somethin’ out of a daydream, soft and steady, the kind of sight that made folks stop what they were doin’.

“Break time,” you called out, your voice all sugar and sunshine, light enough to melt even the hardest day.

A ripple of gratitude moved through the hands like wind through wheat. Cowboy hats tilted in your direction, rough voices murmured their thanks, and tired smiles cracked open like thunderclouds breaking.

Vi watched you with a pride so big it swelled in her chest, knocking around behind her ribs like a drumbeat. Lord, the way you moved through her world—gentle but strong, kind but not to be underestimated—it took her breath clean away.

That is, until a low mutter broke the spell.

“Must be nice,” one of the younger hands grumbled, the words sharp with spite. “Get to sit in the cool house all day while the rest of us work our asses off.”

Vi’s head turned. Slow. Deliberate.

The warmth in her expression vanished, her jaw setting like stone, a muscle ticking as her eyes locked on the boy.

“Say that again?” she asked, her voice molasses-thick, but with an edge like broken glass.

The boy straightened up fast, eyes wide now, realizing he’d stepped somewhere he shouldn’t. “I just meant—”

“You meant nothin’ but trouble, runnin’ your mouth about my wife,” Vi snapped, stepping forward, boots crunching the dirt like punctuation.

“That woman’s been up since sunrise. Bakes with her bare hands, irons every shirt on this damn ranch, keeps that house cleaner than a prayer, and still makes time to come out here and bring your ungrateful ass a cold drink.”

You blinked, a little stunned, heart thudding at the sudden rise in heat. But Vi turned to you then, and her face softened like the sun slipping behind a cloud.

“Go on, baby. Head back inside. I’ll handle the rest.”

And so you did—cheeks flushed, pride blooming in your chest like a rose in high summer.

Behind you, Vi’s voice curled back around that foolish boy, low and smoky, wrapped in iron.

“Next time you speak on her,” she said, calm as a loaded gun, “you better put some damn respect in it.”

The house was cooler inside, but not by much—just enough to take the edge off the heat.

You set the tray down on the counter, hands still a little shaky, though you weren’t sure if it was from the sun or the way Vi had stood up for you like that, fierce and fearless.

You were rinsing out some lemonade glasses when the screen door creaked again, slow and easy this time. Vi stepped in, wiping her hands on a rag, her shoulders loose now, tension gone with the dust outside.

She crossed the kitchen in a few strides, and before you could turn fully, her arms were sliding around your waist from behind, forehead pressed to the crook of your neck.

“You okay, baby?” she murmured, her voice warm and low.

You nodded, but your breath hitched a little. “Didn’t mean to stir up trouble…”

Vi pulled back just enough to look at you, her hand lifting to gently tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Her eyes were soft now, not a single trace of the fire she’d shown out there—just that steady, grounding kind of love she saved just for you.

“Hey. You didn’t stir nothin’,” she said. “That boy’s mouth did the stirrin’. You just walked out there lookin’ like heaven on a hot day, bringin’ biscuits and sweetness like you always do. And no one—no one—gets to talk about you like you’re anything less than what you are.”

You felt your lip wobble and blinked fast.

Vi smiled, small but sure, and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You're the heart of this whole place, sugar. They just don’t see it ‘cause they’re too busy lookin’ at the dust on their boots. But I see it. Every damn day.”

You turned then, wrapping your arms around her, pressing your face into her shoulder as her hands rubbed slow, soothing circles across your back.

And in the hush of the kitchen, with the cicadas singing outside and Vi’s breath steady in your ear, you felt the kind of safe that only comes from bein’ known—and protected—down to your bones.

[orphicsun]

"She Gets the Job Done!"

Cowgirl Ellie x Fem! Reader

Content: Cowgirl Ellie, Fem! country reader, Ellie is western type of cowgirl, reader is southern, badly written accents(guys I am southern but idk how to write a western accent), smut, clit rubbing(r! recieving), scissoring, making out, biting, some implied homophobia, reader is written as a lesbian, modern AU, reader has female anatomy, very loosely based off of Chappell Roan's unreleased song.

Word Count: 2.4k

Resource Credits: Here and Here!

Description: You're a true southern girl who is fed up with these country boys who just can't please you. What you really need is a woman, but that's kind of hard to seek out in a small southern town. When Ellie Williams moves into your town along with Joel Miller, she ends up working at the farm nearby, and you really want her. It's true: only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.

Wow, you really hated living in the south sometimes. You mostly loved the summer heat complimentary with trips to the creek on the weekends. You always loved going to rodeos where you obsessed over the dandies. You loved southern food, the nature, the farms and the small town life.

What you didn't love was the men.

You were always a romantic at heart, reading steamy western novels with a flashlight under your blankets at the age of 14 or writing love letters you'd never send to cowboys in town. However, as you grew up into a woman, you realized you'd slowly started replacing the men with cowgirls. You spent your nights wondering what it'd be like to be actually satisfied in a relationship. You grew up in a traditional-minded town, so you tried to push down those desires. You had a couple boyfriends, but men just weren't it for you. They were too rough, too awkward with you in bed, too greedy. None of them knew how to please a woman, at least not a woman like you. After a while, you gave up on the dream cowgirl you had in mind. The novels became difficult to pick up once you began to believe you'd never get the chance to experience real passion or real pleasure. That was what you'd felt like, at least until Ellie moved into your town.

Ellie Williams wasn't much for the south. She was a western girl at heart, adorned with thick leather boots and messy auburn hair. You'd seen cowgirls before, so that wasn't what surprised you. You just felt a calling to her, you adored her from her freckles that faded out in the sun to her messy hair that had a tint of red when light hit it in the right way. She was strong, that was for sure. Her biceps looked so firm, like they could handle if you sank your teeth down into them. She wasn't an extremely strong-looking girl, but that only enticed you more. Her eyes told a lot about her, said she wasn't looking for anything funny, but you wondered if she was silly under all the bravado.

She moved from the west side of the states with Joel Miller, who wasn't a wealthy man by any means, but grew up in your home town. At first, you couldn't tell if Ellie and Joel were related or not. Joel was more friendly, talked to older folks in town, but Ellie often kept to herself. She'd spend most of her time helping out with the farm next to your father's. It was when you were walking to the farmer's market that you noticed her for the very first time.

Your father was a nice man, well known in town. You were living with him until you had enough money to afford your own small place. He owned a farm and wasn't the most rich man, but he made ends meet. Today was a nice day, which mean he unfortunately encouraged you to walk to the local farmer's market instead of stealing his truck for the errand. Of course, you kept your complaints to yourself. Your dad was a sweet old man, and you should've been thanking him anyways, cause you met the most gorgeous girl the world had to offer.

Poor Ellie was too busy herding in sheep to notice your stare, to even notice you pass the road. It only made you more intrigued, that she was such a hard worker.

After that day, you'd always look out for her presence. You avoided using your dad's truck when you needed to run errands, saying it would be a quick walk. You just liked being able to pass by her as she worked on the farm, get the extra few seconds to admire her. You really felt like a creep, but this was the first time you really felt such adoration for a person. Such attraction.

The first time you spoke to her, she was driving Joel's truck down the dirt road after she had finished up with your neighbor's farm. You at the time were walking, coming home from the market with a bag of peaches for a peach cobbler. Ellie noticed you, and that was really when the two of you clicked.

She was used to pretty girls, the west and south had no shortage of them. However, you were perfection for the cowgirl. You wore a cutesy pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt underneath, and Ellie had a soft spot for feminine girls. She came to a slow stop on the dusty road, putting the transmission in park.

"Hey, you! Need a ride?" She shouted with a smile plastered on her face. Your heart melted. You'd expected her to be more serious or smug, but she seemed almost nervous. It was only making your heart beat faster.

"I only live next to this farm, it's really no problem." You assured, though you really hoped she'd push the matter. Thankfully, she did.

"Really, Joel would kill me if he found out I let you walk home. It's getting late."

You, an utterly hopeless lesbian, couldn't resist. You said fuck it and let her reach over to open the passenger door for you, and your boots reached up into the truck to plop down into the passenger seat. You placed the brown paper bag of peaches in your lap and gave her a quick thanks as she began driving. Small talk felt more like two old friends hitting it off, and you liked her accent. It made you a tad more comfortable.

The two of you grew really close after that day. She'd be in the local rodeos and you looked forward to the sleepovers that came after. A few months of friendship helped you get to know her in a way that you could confidently call her your best friend. You still liked her though, feelings only growing the more the two of you bonded. You noticed that while she was a bit shy, she came out of her shell when she was around people she knew. She was quite sarcastic to Joel, and you loved the way she made fun of you at times. It made your heart flutter, and you imagined she was saying the opposite of whatever insult she had created for you.

Ellie wasn't much like what you'd imagined, and you partially felt bad for the feelings harbored away for her. She was a cowgirl who loved horses, sure. But she shared some private interests with you that shouldn't have made you want her more, but it did. One night, Ellie and you were sitting outside in her cow field, a blanket laid out beneath the two of you. She turned to you with a genuine smile, the warm look that she only gave very few people, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to space."

You turned to face her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Really? You? In Space?" You couldn't help the surprise in your tone.

She laughed softly at your expression. "Yes, dumbass. I used to listen to the first moon landing recording on repeat. Somethin' about it was really magical, ya know?"

You couldn't help but melt a little at her confession. The thought of Ellie being obsessed with astronauts was really endearing. But you couldn't stop the teasing, either.

"Is that why you have those nerdy space comics on your shelf? You told me those were Joel's!"

Ellie scoffed and swatted your arm playfully, but her hand lingered on your skin. "That's a topic for another time. Be grateful I share my secrets with ya."

You felt the warmth of her fingers, the way they softly traced patterns on your bare arm. Right then and there, you suddenly needed to risk it all.

"Ellie...I..I really need to tell you something." You sounded shaky and uncertain, but you needed to get your feelings out, even if it meant facing a possible rejection. This girl was too perfect to let get away.

"Yeah, what's up?" She sounded curious, unaware. That made you feel uneasy.

"I just..well, when I first saw you, I thought of you as a completely different person. And I really liked you. I liked you in a romantic way. I got to know you, though. The thing is, I think I like you even more. And I'm so sorry if you-" You were suddenly cut off when her plush lips met yours.

You were shocked, but quickly kissed her back, hands grasping at her everywhere, pulling her to lay on her side so you could tangle your legs with hers. It felt so nice to be kissing her. She tasted like fruit and smelled even better, and her tongue felt hypnotizing against yours. It made you crave much more.

Soon, you were rolled onto your back so the cowgirl could lay on top of you. Her hands were trailing from your sides to your stomach, her hand pausing above your shirt, her eyes meeting yours to search for any hesitation. When you nodded, her hands slid up your shirt to massage your tits through the fabric of your cotton bra. You let out a quiet whine, the feeling of her weight pressed on your body, and she leaned in to press her lips against your neck. In response, you tilted your head back, desperately craving more of her. You could feel the shakiness of her breath, and it reminded you that she was just as nervous as you were.

"Do you wanna keep going?" She asked, and you really noticed how different her tone was from when she was usually speaking to people. One of her hands trailed down the button of your jeans, and she didn't continue until you nodded.

Her hand quickly unzipped your jeans, her eyes meeting yours. She thought you were just too beautiful, looking up at her with wide eyes. She adored you. Her fingers slipped into your panties, and she let out a little "fuck" when she felt the damp patch in your panties. You laughed with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Please, Ellie." You sounded so desperate, Ellie quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on your lips. This one was much more confident, more sloppy and hungry than the first. She took your tongue into her mouth, giving it a hard suck which made you buck up into her hand, trying to get her to just fuck you.

"Patience, mkay?" She said softly as she pulled away, a shaky exhale leaving her mouth at the sight of the string of saliva the kiss had pulled from the two of you.

You nodded even though you weren't the most patient person. Ellie kept you at bay by rubbing at your clit with the pad of her finger, swirling moisture around the soft bud. You made one of the most heavenly sounds Ellie had ever heard, your eyes fluttering shut as she touched you. For the first time, someone actually focused on you. She struggled to pull your shirt off with just hand but you helped her out and soon, your bra was quickly unclasped. Ellie continued to rub at your clit as much as she could through your jeans, but she eventually gave up and pulled her hand out of your jeans, eliciting a cute whine from you.

"Off, please?" She requested, her voice so sweet and yet so demanding. Now that she knew you wanted her, she wasn't playing around. You nodded eagerly and lifted your hips as much as possible to pull your jeans and panties over your hips. Soon, you were left naked on the blanket. Ellie sat up to strip off her own clothes and you admired the sight.

Something about watching the girl strip, her pale skin coming into view in contrast to the stars above the two of you, it was perfection. Her body was slim and she was lean but had muscle on her. There they were, those perfect biceps..you couldn't help but sit up with her to plant kisses on them which soon turned into hungry little bites.

She let out a shaky laugh at your biting and joked with you, even in the heat of the moment. "You're gonna take a bite outta my arm, jesus."

You ignored her teasing and instead moved your lips to her pointy tits, smiling slightly as she shuddered. You found her weak spots. You dragged your tongue over both of her tits, feeling her nipples harden against your touch. She was getting impatient now. She pulled you closer so you were sitting with your legs tangled together, moving to slot herself between your legs. You let out countless desperate pleas as her wet cunt came into contact with yours.

You couldn't help but buck your hips into her no matter how much she tried to stabilize you, both of your moans filling the field. Her cunt was so wet against yours and you could feel her clit and lips both rub up and down all over your own clit. The stimulation felt so good but it had you desperate in ways your body knew, your whines getting louder when Ellie would lean in for wet, lazy kisses and trail her lips all over your neck, hands snaking around to squeeze your ass.

"Fuck, Els. Please, I'm gonna cum..I want you, please.." You pleaded with her, your orgasm building up inside you. This would be the first time you actually came from another person's actions.

"Cum with me, mkay? Cmon baby, you can cum for me.."

You'd never heard Ellie speak so filthy before. Sure, she had a sailor's mouth. She'd swear and curse even on her death bed. But just hearing her beg you to cum, it really sent sparks down into your pussy.

You frantically ground against her pussy, words coming out probably incoherent to Ellie's ears. "Fuck, I'm cummin', I love you Els.."

Your orgasm hit you like fireworks, all of the butterflies you'd felt for Ellie over the months released into intense bliss. She came with you, your juices mixing together, wetness coating both of your thighs.

The two of you spent the next few minutes catching your breaths, a comfortable silence exchanged. You were collapsed against her, arms around her as she held you close. She was so warm, and it was now a comfort more than a turn-on.

Soon, she spoke up in a soft, quiet murmur just for you.

"I love you too, by the way.."

[fanged-fanfics]

hello 🤗 hope you're doing great, if it'snt too much could you write a Dark Cacao cookie x sweetheart wife reader please ??

☆ Soft Spot — Dark Cacao x Wife!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dark Cacao prides himself on being solitary, giving a strong demeanor that most will find intimidating enough to listen to. You, however, are the exception to this

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your kindness and sweet nature helps soften up the king when he needs it. He always eases up when your hand cups his cheek, leaning into your touch

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He could be right in the middle of threatening someone and pause whenever you come in because he doesn't wanna risk scaring you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It's always a little funny for some others to see you two out together since Dark Cacao is almost always glaring or seems pissed in some way and you have such a radiant grin beside him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anyone who tries to tease him about being so sweet to his wife get the most aggressive glare the king can muster ("Just because you are unwed doesn't mean you can throw stones at my wife and I")

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He isn't much for PDA, but he'll let you hold onto his arm and link his with yours while you're handling diplomatic matters together, or an arm around your waist

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You've made it your personal duty to prove wrong his "I don't know how to laugh" claim. You've made him smile and chuckle on bad days more times than he wants to admit

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "I don't know what I've done to deserve a gift such as you, but I hope every day you see just how much I appreciate your presence"

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today 🤗 This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader | Chapter 2 - Keep Him Happy

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: Wow chapter 2 only one day later? Crazy! I already promise that's not a rate I'll keep up, lmao.

Read it on AO3 Chapter 1

1.5K words

So, Bob was not, in fact, a child. He was a grown man who seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His face was somewhat youthful, so you weren’t sure exactly how old he was, but you’d wager it was older than you. 

“Why is it exactly that you need a babysitter?” You asked directly. No use beating around the bush. You ignored the whole flashback memory thing, guessing you’d be enlightened with the details when the rest of the team came back. It wasn’t exactly a fond experience. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say babysitter… It’s just, uh… best to not leave me to my own devices, I guess,” he shrugged. You nodded awkwardly, not sure what to make of the situation. The promised pay was good, you wouldn’t actually have to take care of him, just keep him company. It didn’t seem like a bad deal. 

But even then, he was obviously unstable. Maybe what he needed was a mental health professional, not a ‘babysitter.’ You were probably just a temporary solution. 

You sat in an awkward silence for a while, sipping your drink every now and then trying to think of a lighthearted topic to entertain him with. “So… Tell me about yourself, Bob.” 

“Well, I’m… Bob. Short for, uh, Robert, as you might’ve guessed,” Bob nodded. You sighed inwardly, this was going to be tougher than you expected. Children were usually a lot easier, willing to tell you all of their and their parent’s business. Cats were even better, no need for talking. Bob was going to take some work. 

“How’d you end up here, with these people, I mean?” You wondered. He seemed normal enough, but obviously the ‘New Avengers’ cared about him enough to try and keep him out of harm's way and around their building. 

“It’s kind of a funny story, really. One second I’m in Malaysia in some lab for a medical study, the next I wake up in this bunker with these guys trying to kill each other…” 

You squint your eyes in question. “That is… Funny?” 

“Yeah now that I’m putting it like that it doesn’t sound very funny, does it?” Bob chuckled. It seemingly broke some of the tension. He asked you a few questions about yourself and your contact with Alexei. 

“He seems very sweet,” you concluded. Bob agreed, letting you know the man definitely had his heart in the right place, though sometimes a bit overenthusiastic. 

He told you about the rest of the team, and you noticed he was inconspicuously perceptive. He went one by one, wasting time by talking about the people surrounding him most days. 

“Yelena looks really tough, and she is! But she’s really a big softie,” Bob spoke of her very fondly, a twinkle of adoration in his eyes. 

“Ava’s a bit of a tough nut to crack, but she has a really good sense of humour. She’s a bit more reserved, but really has your back when you need her. She’ll deny it, though.” 

You poured yourself another glass of soda, offering Bob one as well. He declined but thanked you for the offer to a degree which dazed you. You took a mental note of the skittish demeanour. 

“John’s an asshole. Can’t really put it anyway else. He’s here, he’ll show up for the others, but… I can’t really say I’ve come to like him like the others. I’d put it as toloration. I mean he has a history… But who doesn’t? Doesn’t give him the right to be a douche, you know?” He obviously had a strong sense of righteousness, and John did not fit into that picture. 

“And lastly there’s Bucky, but I’m sure you know about him. Congressman and such. He’s not around here much. He tries to be, but I feel like he’s still a bit wary of the team. Part of me thinks he just doesn’t want to get attached, which I can understand, given his past…” Bob looked out the window, seemingly lost in a deep thought. His eyes glazed over and an overwhelming sadness overtook his face. It’d gotten dark in the time you’d been here, the city skyline lit up with artificial lighting. 

“Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger.” Yelena’s words echoed in your head. There was likely a good reason for the particular instructions. 

“Well, Bob, thank you for opening up and telling me about them. I feel like we’re likely gonna be spending some more time together, so I really appreciate that you feel safe enough to share,” you smiled, distracting him from his spiralling thoughts. 

Bob smiled before looking a little confused at his own actions. You felt like he might’ve maybe shared a little more than he’d intended. 

You were racking your brain for another topic to talk about when the elevator doors opened once again. Bob deflated, hunching in on himself and making himself visibly smaller. You hadn’t even noticed how his posture had opened up during your conversation.

It was Yelena and Alexei, joking with each other in, was that Russian? They walked in as if they hadn’t just fought off whatever it was that had ransacked the subway and blasted itself into the building. You looked at them expectantly, waiting to finally get an explanation. 

“Ah, right, babysitter. It’s quite late, maybe you should head home?” Yelena suggested, cracking her neck while unloading a few weapons on a side table like she was dropping off her keys after coming home from the office. 

“Was this just a one time thing, or will I be coming back?” You wondered. You could use the money.  

“That depends… Bob? Do you like her?” 

Bob spluttered and gaped at Yelena, unsure of how to answer. “I– I mean, yeah, she’s– She’s nice. I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“We can find different babysitter if you want. Many more on the app,” Alexei chimed in as he huffed and puffed, trying to get his suit off in the middle of the living room. It looked more like he was doing a form of experimental yoga. 

“No, no. This one’s fine,” Bob winced. You’d really have to come up with a different title than ‘babysitter’ if this was going to become a lasting thing. 

“Good, then she stays. Ava and John are debriefing Bucky. It was just some lowlife with some experimental tech, but man, whatever he was shooting with stung like a b–” 

“Lena, language, we have guest,” Alexei shushed her. Yelena rolled her eyes in response. 

She nodded her head at you, motioning for you to come with her. You shot Bob a quick glance, who gave you a tight lipped smile but seemingly encouraged you to go with her. 

Yelena took you to a smaller separate sitting room and offered you a glass of whiskey, which you refused. “No drinking on the job,” you laughed. 

“So, you’re probably wondering, why does a grown man need a babysitter? Well, I’m gonna explain. But first, what did Bob tell you?” she started, sitting down next to you and leaning on the back of the couch, resting her head in her hand. You mimicked her relaxed posture, putting a leg up on the couch. 

“Not much, really. He told me a bit about you guys and how you met. He mentioned something about a medical study in Malaysia, but other than that nothing too memorable.” 

“Did you happen to shake his hand?” Ah, there it was. Yelena could tell by your expression the answer was yes. 

“Yeah, it happened to us, too. You see, Bob… He’s very strong. Stronger than all of us combined. But he’s not stable. He’s a bit of a grey area in the team. We keep him around because he’s nice, of course, but also because we can’t risk anybody else trying to get on his good side and abusing his trust.” She took a sip of the whiskey, relishing its taste before continuing. 

“We’re still not really sure what his powers are, and it’s also not up to me to disclose all of the information besides the basics. All I can tell you is that we can’t risk taking him into the field, but we also can’t risk leaving him alone for too long. His abilities are closely tied to his mental wellbeing. It sounds a little degrading to describe it this way,” Yelena winced. She evidently had very conflicting feelings on the topic. You understood it must be difficult, wanting to keep him out of harm’s way without babying him. 

“But it’s really a matter of keeping him happy and distracted when it’s necessary. He needs help, a lot of it, but we just haven’t had the time to figure out how to go about it. So for now, this is it. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but with a ‘job’ as unpredictable as ours, this is the reality. Can you handle that?” Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read every single thought crossing your mind. 

“You care about him deeply,” you observed. 

She gave a fond smile. “I do.” 

“Then I think I can handle it. As long as I don’t have to lie to him or beat around the bush, I can do my best to keep him company and help wherever I can. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we ask.” 

It was settled, then. You were hired. 

Chapter 3

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋ🖍️crayons and connections

pairing: prohero!katsuki x nanny!reader

summary: after a harsh relationship he really didn't want another try at romance for a while. at least, not until he hired you. he thought he loved the way you cared for his kids, but you both knew it was something more.

tags: fem!reader, domestic au, use of pet names, no proofread, fluff, cursing, taking care of kids, a millisecond of angst i swear trust me, comfort

(a/n: i couldn't get this au out of my headdd)

wc: ~3k

katsuki was honestly sick of his wife.

she would nag him constantly, asking for his cards and attention without ever asking about him or how he was doing. everything was an argument now, most of their nights would eventually end up with him on the couch.

the only lights of his life were his newborn son and one year old daughter. he had adopted the 'staying for the kids' mindset, but her skipping out on their shared daughter's first birthday was his breaking point.

who knew 'i want a divorce' would be the happiest words he'd ever uttered such far? watching her cry and swear she'd be better feeding the hole of despair that had opened over their three year relationship, that had only really blossomed because she got pregnant.

he had made her sign a prenup, thankfully, so he got to keep the house. with a payment and some paperwork he was left with full custody of his kids in his house, to sleep in his bed for the first time in ages.

well, only because he hired you.

it was only natural that he needed a nanny, i mean he was gone for most of the day patrols. after taking some in for interviews, he eventually landed on you after some hours of questioning.

he was exhausted, some of these hags were terrifying, both in their practices and appearances. he relaxed a bit at the sight of you. you were really pretty.

"hi mr-- um bakugo was it?"

you and no idea who he was? it kind of hurt but would end up working out in his favor.

"yeah, just katsuki's fine."

"oh, okay! i'm [name], uh-- i have a couple years experience for babysitting and i worked as a nanny for some other families too--"

as you rambled about your past experience and why you were good for the job, katsuki's mind went elsewhere. you looked breathtaking just speaking there, he swore your hair was flowing in the wind and that the sun shone brighter around you.

not to mention you were really sweet, he had saw you making small talk to the hags earlier, which meant you really were a saint.

"so uh-- yeah that's all about me... uh, hello?"

"oh! yes? that was all really impressive [name]. so, would you be available from eight in the morning to about ten at night? those are my current patrol hours, and obviously you'd be compensated for this trial."

"yes, that's perfect for me! when can i start?"

"uh.. tomorrow?"

"okay!" you stuck out your hand, a small smile on your lips. "nice to meet you katsuki."

he shook your hand firmly and you bowed before leaving.

the next day you arrived earlier than anticipated, he was suited up in his heroes outfit, relishing in the moments where his kids were still asleep.

he heard a knock at the door and opened it. it was you, a tiny purse behind you. "hi katsuki! woah wait a minute.. are you like a hero?"

he shrugged his arms. "yeah, you know only like top three, nothing big."

he saw your eyes widen. "oh wow! sorry for not recognizing you, i don't really keep up with all that stuff-- but im sure you're really strong!"

he nodded, "hell yeah i am. anyways, come in."

you were greeted by a large family home. you were sure your apartment was the size of the kitchen alone. huge halls and grand staircases filled the space, lavish chandeliers all shaped as explosions hung from the ceiling. not to mention the crazy amount of trophies displayed.

the rocking chairs and baby blankets scattered about were seriously out of place, making you giggle a bit.

when he looked back at you, you immediately slapped your hand over your face. "something funny?"

"no, no it's just-- your house is so nice!"

"thank you? anyways, i'll take you up to their rooms now."

you followed behind him, even his kids had huge rooms. you were super kind of jealous.

he opened the door and waved you over to see a small, adorable baby boy sleeping in a cot. "this is kei, he's only eight months." he whispered. "he fusses a lot, but he loves music."

he closed the door slowly behind, and walked to the room straight across. a tiny toddler laid in a princess bed, the room drowning in all things pink. "this is kioko, she's a handful. she turned two a bit ago." he whispered, closing the door behind him to give you a basic rundown of the schedule.

"so, they normally wake up around eight. there's a lot of formula for kei in the kitchen, and kioko just likes cereal. kioko can and will play all day, but kei gets real sleepy."

you nodded along making mental notes of everything.

"they eat lunch around three, but a snack before then is fine. dinner is at seven and they go to sleep at eight."

"okay, i think i got it."

he nodded. "i think you do too. there's extra keys in the counter by the door. call my assistants if there are any emergencies, i wrote the number on the fridge."

you nodded again, "kay, i got it. you get going though, it's already eight twenty!"

"fuck. okay, i'll see you later."

"bye katsuki."

the door closed behind him and you were alone. you decided to start prepping a bottle. just as you finished, you heard the wails of a baby ring throughout the halls.

you walked up to the cot, speaking softly. "hi kei, i'm [name]." as you picked him up, he gurgled in confusion. "i'll be taking care of you from now on, let's go eat."

you kept him in your arms. he was looking up at you curiously, making you smile as he touched your face. as you walked to his sister's room, where sure enough she was awake too.

"hi kioko, im [name]. i'll be taking care of you, okay?" you said, reaching out a hand for her to shake it.

she grasped your hand. "okay. go eat?"

"yes, let's go eat. follow me, okay?" she followed after you sleepily, her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms as you led her to the kitchen.

you placed her brother in a high chair first, giving him his formula. "can i pick you up?" you asked her.

"up-up!" she said, raising her arms up in the air. you carried and placed her into one too. "so, what do you wanna eat?"

"cookie!" she pointed to an expensive cereal brand you'd never even seen before. "oh, okay."

you placed a bit in a tiny bowl, adding some milk. they ate relatively peacefully, were they really as crazy as katsuki said?

yes, yes they were. kioko was a ball of energy, walking any and everywhere. she wanted to play every single game known to mankind. it didn't help that hide and seek was hard in such a huge house.

kei clung to you. as you searched for her he never wanted to leave your side, he'd start sniffling when you even left his sight.

lunch and dinner were a blur, you made the food katsuki had told you to on the sticky notes he'd left around. you had a bit too, and man did these kids eat good.

kioko finally crashed, tugging on the back of your pants. "sleepy time." you were washing dishes, so you wiped your hand clean to ruffle her hair. "okay, go wait for me in your room."

you finished up, picked up kei from where he was sat by his activity cube, and walked over to kioko's room.

you read her a book, 'the giving tree.' she fell asleep halfway through, utterly tuckered out from the day. kei fell asleep against your chest, you went and laid him down in his cot.

you looked around the house, seeing the mess. you sighed. "let's do this."

the house was sparkling once you were done, a pot of coffee on the stove as you waited for katsuki to get back. you seriously didn't know how you were going to go back your one-bed apartment now that you've seen how the rich live.

the door sounded, it was katsuki. "hi katsuki! how was uh-- patrol?"

he was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe. you internally sobbed at your hours of mopping going to waste. "oh uh, it was good. caught some guys and shit."

"ah, that's cool!"

he looked around. "did my brats cause you any trouble?" he eyed how clean everything was, from the dishes to the floor.

"they're full of energy, but so cute it makes up for it."

he wore a soft smile. "yeah, they really are."

"you know, they both look exactly like you. it's cute."

he flushed slightly, "yeah?"

"mhm, oh! i had leftovers from earlier? if you wanted some."

"yeah, i'll eat them." she smiled and started to grab her things. "so, does this mean i pass?"

he smiled too. "yes,

yes you did."

days melted into months of your routine with kei and kioko. some days katsuki would come home early, letting you play games all together. you'd cook with him sometimes too, laughing at how precise he was about it.

everything got a bit real the second kei spoke his first word to you.

"mama."

you and kioko got so excited, recording a clip to send it to katsuki immediately.

the entire day you were so happy, treating the kids to a secret extra snack, and letting them beat their favorite baby popcorn.

a knock on the door was heard, you were feeding kei so you walked over to the door with him in hand. you thought it was odd, why would katsuki knock?

except it wasn't him, it was some woman. "uh.. who are you?"

"oh, so he thinks he can replace me so quickly? newsflash, bitch, i'm his ex wife."

"can you not curse in front of the kids?"

"i'll do whatever the fuck i want. you know why? because i'm actually connected to those kids. you're just playing mother, he'll dump you eventually."

she slammed the door behind her. "star her mama?" kioko asked behind you.

"yeah, stranger."

you had gotten a bit weird after that, acting weird about affection and things surrounding it. you didn't know why, but she really did make you question your role in their lives.

you weren't a mother, you were a nanny.

katsuki finally got fed up with your new, odd attitude. he questioned you with a look in his eye.

"why you been acting so weird?" he asked, his mouth full with food.

"huh? i don't know what you mean?"

he pointed his chopsticks at you. "you've been acting all weird 'round 'em. you don't like that they call you mom or something?"

"no! it's just.. don't you think it's weird?"

"no. i'm happy that they like you so much."

"you don't think i'm trying to replace their mom?"

"they never really had one in the first place. she was never around, so if she said some shit to you know she wasn't half the person you are."

"oh.."

"so she did come."

"yeah. she did."

"[name]. you are ten times the person she ever was. you're perfect without trying. actually, you do try. and that's why..

that's why we all love you."

you both turned red, which made you laugh. "thank you katsuki."

you reached out and held his hand.

"seriously, thank you."

he put a restraining order on his ex the next day, also going to get flowers for you as it was his day off.

you'd started to sleep over after that, the affection between the two of you growing gradually.

he gifted you a room in the house, fully furnished with about ten thousand dollars left in one of the drawers so 'you could decorate for yourself.'

that room went mostly unused though, as most nights you'd end up cuddled with katsuki in his bed.

the fridge was filled to the brim with photos by kioko, who'd love to draw all four of you as one big family.

katsuki even asked her for a small one, one that he now keeps in the back of his phone case for good luck.

he asked you out officially with kioko's help, her unwanted help that is.

she snuck out after bedtime where he was speaking to you on the couch, you in his arms as he was mustering up his courage--

"pleaseeee have a play date with daddy, pleasee?" she said, using her puppy eyes.

"we all love you a lot, but he loves you this much!" she spread out her arms to make a point, making you laugh.

"okay! okay, i already said yes kioko. go to sleep, okay?"

"yay!" she ran up to her room and you heard the door close.

"so.. about our playdate?"

he took you out to a fancy dinner of your choice, telling you to order whatever you'd like. his mom was babysitting so you two could relax.

he'd learned a lot about you from his kids, your favorite color, the music you liked, the way you like your eggs, but it was different to hear it from you.

he thought you were so gorgeous and kind, so sweet to him and the lights of his life. who was he kidding? over the last year you'd become a pillar of his life.

he enjoyed going home knowing you were there with his kids, you were there to hear about his stresses and support him.

he was happy to support you, to let you stay in his house. to let him pay for things for you, to let him make you smile.

one 'playdate' turned into multiple, you went out every other week.

he knew he had to do something, a grand gesture to show you just how much he loved you, how he wanted to continue building this perfect family of his forever.

he knew how much you treasured the opinions of his kids, he loved that about you.

so, he got them in on it. kioko and kei each held a gift for you, one of your favorite flowers and the other of your favorite perfumes.

you were at a seriously gorgeous park, streams the only noise you could hear for miles. you saw your two favorite kids sitting on the picnic blanket.

"kioko, kei?"

"mommy!" they ran up to you, kei handing you the bouquet of roses, and kioko handing you a vial of perfume.

"aw, thank you you two. where's your dad?"

"hes waiting for you! come come!"

"come!"

they guide you to a secluded area, with a natural arch of overgrown vines, where katsuki is waiting for you.

"katsuki?"

"[name]."

"what's all of this for?"

"you." he took your hands into his, looking deeply into you.

"you're important to me. you've.. you've become the thing i was missing. the thing i searched for in other people.

and, you've become that to the people i care about the most too.

so,"

he got down on one knee infront of you.

"will you marry me?"

the word yes escaped you before you even realized it. you tackled him into a hug, which prompted kei and kioko to join in.

everything was just so sweet from then on.

kioko was the flower girl at your wedding, kei was the ring holder.

your first kiss shared under the altar was magical, the memory of it forever engrained in your memories, and in your lips.

your honeymoon was bittersweet, as you missed your two headaches. but you and katsuki also enjoyed the private time alone with eachother, embracing and finding comfort in eachother's presence.

when you got home though, your picturesque family was about to have a new addition,

you were pregnant.

whilst everyone was debating whether or not you'd have a boy or girl, to everyone's surprise once you and katsuki cut the slice of cake open..

it had both colors.

you we're having twins.

as you looked over at katsuki, a shocked expression on his face, all you could do was laugh.

laugh because you couldn't have ever imagined a life this perfect for you.

but it was a wax-drawn line of fate that led you to katsuki,

and you'd always be thankful for it.

tag: @kovu-bunnbunn

[godricgryffinsnore]

Like Hell You’re Flirting with Her ♡ : A Sirius Black Fan Fiction.

pairing : Sirius Black x fem!reader

summary : A hilarious, heart-melting moment unfolds in the Great Hall as Sirius Black’s feelings come to a head—complete with mischief, fluffy confessions, and a whole lot of teasing from his fellow Marauders.

warnings : Mild Jealousy/Possessiveness (Sirius gets very territorial—but it’s all fluffy and loving), Excessive Fluff (seriously tooth-rotting levels of affection), Public Displays of Affection (clingy Sirius alert!), Strong Language (light cursing, e.g., “like hell” and “damn”), Heavy Teasing/Banter (from James, Remus, and Peter—Sirius gets roasted, lovingly), Minor Embarrassment/Secondhand Embarrassment (poor Hufflepuff boy), Unhealthy Levels of Handsome Sirius Black Energy. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 0.6k

main master list <3

banners : @kodaswrld and @cafekitsune

The Great Hall was bursting with golden light, chatter bouncing off the enchanted ceiling. Laughter spilled from the Gryffindor table like honey—sweet, endless, sticky. You were sitting between Remus and a charming Hufflepuff boy, one leg tucked under the other, laughing softly at something that boy—James thought his name was Owen?—had said.

Sirius Black was not okay.

He was sulking. No, worse than sulking. He was brooding with a vengeance, stabbing at a poor piece of toast with such venom it crumbled under the pressure.

“She’s laughing,” he muttered darkly. “She never laughs at my jokes like that.”

James, chewing on a mouthful of eggs, barely glanced up. “Maybe because your jokes aren’t funny, Pads.”

Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Remus, very serenely, turned a page in his book. “You’ve told her the one about the goblin and the cactus twelve times. And you always forget the punchline.”

“I don’t forget the punchline,” Sirius hissed. “I build suspense.”

“Oh, is that what you’re building?” James said sweetly. “Because it looks a lot like irrational jealousy.”

Sirius dragged a hand through his already wild hair. “She’s mine.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You do realize you’ve never actually told her that, right? You just... follow her around like a very pretty, very loud dog.”

“Yeah,” Peter added, “A possessive one. Like a kneazle with abandonment issues.”

Sirius didn’t even blink. “I am not possessive.”

James pointed toward the Hufflepuff boy—now holding your wrist to admire your bracelet.

Sirius stood up so fast his bench screeched backward. “Like hell you’re flirting with her.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Remus muttered, half-laughing as he shut his book.

The Great Hall fell into a hush as Sirius strode—yes, strode, as if his boots were fueled by fury and forbidden poetry—toward you.

You blinked up, halfway through a giggle. “Sirius?”

He stopped just in front of you, jaw clenched, storm in his eyes, the kind of storm that made you want to open your arms and drown in it. He looked you up and down, looked at the poor Hufflepuff’s hand still lightly holding yours, then very deliberately slid his arm around your waist.

He turned to the other boy with a dazzling, razor-edged smile.

“She’s taken,” Sirius said smoothly. “Thanks for admiring what’s mine.”

The Hufflepuff blinked. “Oh. I didn’t—”

“Mine,” Sirius said again, to be clear, tugging you a little closer until you were practically in his lap.

You felt your cheeks bloom with heat, but your heart was already hammering a giddy rhythm. “Sirius—”

“You’re mine,” he repeated, softer this time, to you and not the world, voice like silk dipped in honey. “You always have been.”

You should’ve teased him. You meant to tease him. But the way his eyes bore into yours, all firelight and unspoken poetry, it cracked your ribs open a little.

“I know,” you whispered. “So are you.”

The table behind you erupted.

James was howling. “He said it! He actually said it!”

Remus looked delighted. “Took you long enough, Padfoot.”

Peter started miming dramatic kisses behind Sirius’s back.

Sirius didn’t care.

He tucked his face into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around you like he’d waited a thousand lifetimes for this, like your laugh was a song only he had the lyrics to.

“Mine,” he murmured again, and this time, it wasn’t a warning or a claim—it was a promise, etched in starlight, whispered into your skin like a vow.

── .✦

Later that night...

“Sirius?” you asked, curled in the Gryffindor common room, his head on your lap as he traced idle patterns into your knee.

“Mhm?”

“You know I only laughed at that guy’s joke because he had broccoli in his teeth, right?”

Sirius blinked. “You what?”

You laughed. “He had no idea.”

He stared at you, then collapsed into your lap with a groan. “I ruined his life for no reason.”

“Jealousy looks cute on you.”

“You look cute on me,” he muttered into your jumper, and you could feel the pout.

James passed by, grinning. “Oi, don’t forget to snog your property goodnight, Pads!”

Sirius flipped him off without lifting his head, but you kissed his hair anyway.

[absdollievu]

Ruin me gently

bully!abby x fem!reader

Warnings: slight nsfw towards the end, public-ish sex

You hated Abby Anderson before you even knew what the word “hate” really meant. It started in kindergarten — she knocked over your juice box and called you a crybaby when you dared to tell the teacher. Her laugh was loud and mean and got under your skin like splinters.

That was the first time you swore vengeance. The first of many.

Every year, like clockwork, Abby made it her goddamn mission to ruin you.

In middle school, she got a growth spurt. You didn’t. Suddenly, she was towering over everyone — all muscle and swagger. She shoved you into lockers just for fun. Flicked your ears in class. You’d be mid-sentence, and she’d interrupt with some loud, stupid joke that made the rest of the room laugh. But it was never funny to you. Not once.

And high school? High school was worse.

You remember the locker room incident with surgical precision — a trauma branded into your teenage brain. You came back from the shower, and your clothes were gone. Completely gone. All that was left were your underwear, dangling from Abby’s stupidly strong fingers as she paraded them around like some kind of trophy.

���Look at this!” she had laughed, loud enough to echo. “The legendary cherished chonies — guarded like the holy grail.”

You wanted to die. No — you wanted her to die. And if you’d been even a little taller, a little stronger, maybe you would’ve launched yourself at her right then and there. But she was always bigger. Always stronger.

So you waited. Bided your time. And whenever the universe handed you a sliver of opportunity — when she tripped, or slipped, or even just dropped her guard — you hit back. Once, you managed to deck her right in the jaw during sparring. Your knuckles throbbed for days, but the memory of her surprise? Worth it.

She laughed then, too — blood in her teeth.

“You’re so fucking feral,” she said, almost impressed.

God, you hated her.

You hated the way she called you “runt” with that smug grin. Hated the way her biceps flexed when she pulled herself up onto fences. Hated that you noticed.

And you especially hated that part of you was obsessed. Not in a like way — fuck no. It was in your bones, how badly you wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. How you dreamed of pinning her, embarrassing her the way she did to you.

But it was impossible.

She was nearly five times your size, and she knew it. Weaponized it.

⸻

You hated Abby Anderson like it was your religion.

And it wasn’t just the shoving or the stolen clothes. It was how she never let up — how even when you were minding your business, she’d just appear. Like a goddamn curse.

“Hey, shortstack,” she’d greet you with a smirk, nudging your shoulder with hers hard enough to knock you off balance. “Grow an inch yet?”

You’d roll your eyes, jaw clenched. “Die mad about it.”

That was the thing: you didn’t run. Not once. Even when she got in your face, even when she pinned you against lockers with that smug, infuriating smile — you never backed down.

You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

But then something… shifted.

It started small. Instead of just shoving you, she’d lean in close — close enough that her breath ghosted your ear.

“New shampoo?” she’d ask, mock-sweet. “Smells like strawberries and desperation.”

You grit your teeth and shoved her back, but she didn’t push harder. She just laughed, low in her throat, and walked off like she hadn’t just short-circuited your whole nervous system.

Then came the nicknames. Not just “runt” or “loser,” but new ones. Weirder ones.

“Sweetheart.”

“Bite-size.”

“Princess.”

The worst part? She only used them when no one else was around. Like they were private. Like she was claiming something.

And you—God, you wanted to scream. You didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way your stomach twisted or how heat crept up your neck. You especially didn’t like the way her eyes lingered on your mouth when you talked, like she wasn’t even listening to the words — just waiting for an excuse to say something filthy.

She was toying with you. She had to be.

So you started fighting back — not just with fists or words, but with venom dipped in sugar. Quiet digs, whispered jabs that made her raise a brow.

“Wow,” you’d say, eyes flicking down her arms. “All that muscle and still couldn’t open a pickle jar yesterday. Impressive.”

And she’d grin. Not angry — not even annoyed. Just… entertained. Like you were her favorite little game.

Sometimes you’d find her staring at you across the yard, arms crossed, head tilted. Not menacing. Just watching. Assessing.

The next time she shoved you, she didn’t slam you into anything. She just pressed you up against the wall, one hand flat beside your head, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You’ve got a mouth on you lately,” she said, voice quiet.

You scowled. “Must’ve learned it from you.”

Her smile widened. “That right?”

You didn’t answer. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

But when she leaned in — too close, again — you didn’t move. Not an inch.

And that silence between you? That was new. Electric. Heavy with something unsaid.

Something shifting.

And you hated it.

You hated how it made your heart race. You hated how your body stopped recognizing the difference between rage and want.

But most of all?

You hated that you couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d do if you finally shoved her back.

And meant it.

⸻

The locker room’s quiet — steam clinging to the air, the harsh hum of overhead lights the only noise. You towel off your hair, muscles sore, mind already halfway out the door.

You hear the door creak open.

You don’t have to look. You know that sound. Heavy boots, confident stride.

Abby.

You roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, just loud enough for your own satisfaction, “Here comes fun sunshine.”

You think you got away with it — until her voice slices through the stillness, sharp and amused.

“What was that?”

Your hand pauses mid-dry. You don’t look up. Don’t give her the fucking satisfaction. Just keep rubbing the towel through your hair like she’s not there, like her presence doesn’t light every nerve in your body on fire.

Silence.

Then the scuff of her boots moving closer.

You see her shadow shift, her voice lower, soaked in challenge. “Say it again,” she says, tongue poking into the corner of her cheek, eyes locked on you like she’s already got you pinned. “I fucking dare you.”

You finally look up. Her arms are crossed, her body close — too close — heat radiating off her like a furnace. That smirk’s plastered on her face like it was born there.

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Didn’t think you were hard of hearing.”

That’s all it takes.

She steps into your space, slow and deliberate, backing you up until your spine hits cold metal. Her hand slams against the locker next to your head — not touching you, but caging you in like prey, and making you flinch. Her body crowds yours, chest nearly brushing against your towel-wrapped skin.

You don’t breathe.

Her eyes search yours, flicking down to your mouth for just a second too long.

The smirk never leaves.

“You’ve got a lot of attitude for someone who shakes when I breathe on ‘em,” she murmurs, voice low and full of something that makes your skin prickle.

“I’m not scared of you,” your breath hitched

She leans in, lips inches from yours, the air charged and suffocating.

“No,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not. That’s what makes this fun.”

Your heart is a jackhammer. Your fists clenched so tight your nails dig into your palms. Every instinct screams to push her, hit her, kiss her — and fuck, it’s all blending together now, tangled beyond recognition.

Her hand slides just slightly down the locker, fingertips brushing your side, making your breath hitch.

And then—

The door slams open.

Laughter echoes down the row of lockers. Someone shouting a joke, oblivious. Casual. Normal.

Abby freezes. Her hand drops.

She steps back like nothing happened — like she wasn’t just about to ruin you against cold metal — and flashes you a look over her shoulder. Not regret. Not even apology.

Just that same smug glint.

Her voice is casual, cocky. “Later, sweetheart.”

And then she’s gone.

You’re left standing there, towel slipping a little lower, skin flushed, chest heaving, fists still clenched — pulse roaring like a war drum.

Fuck.

You hate her.

You hate her so fucking much.

⸻

It’s quiet.

The kind of quiet you like — not the silence of tension, but the calm hum of pages turning, low whispers, footsteps muffled by carpet. You’re curled into the corner of a table near the back of the library, thick book in hand, attention fixed. Peace. Finally.

Then the door opens.

And of course it’s her.

You don’t even need to look up. You can feel her — the shift in air pressure, the smug gravitational pull of her presence.

You don’t react. Don’t flinch. Maybe if you ignore her, she’ll go away.

Spoiler: she doesn’t.

Abby stalks straight past all the empty tables in the library and drops into the seat right across from you.

You lift your eyes just enough to glare at her over the rim of your book.

She’s slouched in the chair like she owns it — broad arms crossed, a slight tilt to her head like she’s bored. But her eyes? They’re locked on you, gleaming with trouble.

“Didn’t peg you for the reading type,” she murmurs.

You don’t bite. Just flip the page.

She grins wider. “What’s that about? Another teen fantasy about a sad boy with a tragic past?”

You sigh, slow and deep. “It’s about forensics.”

“Oh, sexy.” She says with her cocky tone that you absolutely fucking hated.

You finally lower the book. “Do you just wander around looking for people to annoy or is this a special service just for me?”

Her grin only deepens, dimples threatening to make her look charming — which is unfair, because nothing about her should be allowed to look soft.

“I only give this much attention to people I like.”

You scoff.

Then she’s up, and for a second, you think she’s leaving — until she rounds the table and drops into the seat next to you, thigh brushing yours.

Too close.

You shift, but there’s nowhere to go. Her heat is right there, all-consuming, and she leans in like she’s reading over your shoulder.

“What’s this part mean?” she asks, pointing at a diagram.

You stare at her. “You seriously care?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the p — and she grins again. “But you do. That’s interesting.”

You freeze.

That… wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t a joke.

You glance at her. She’s watching you — but not in that cocky, cruel way. She’s genuinely looking. Curious. Focused. And worse — close. Her breath brushes your cheek when she exhales.

“You’re smart,” she says quietly. “Kinda hot.”

You blink, pulse stuttering.

Then her hand is on your thigh, casual, like it’s always belonged there. Heavy and warm and intentional. You’re not even sure how it got there, or when you let her get this close.

“I could be nice to you, y’know,” she murmurs, lips dangerously close to your ear. “If you asked.”

You hate the shiver that runs down your spine.

“I’m not asking,” you whisper.

She hums low in her throat — a sound that vibrates through you. “No. You like it better when I take it.” You say with instant regret.

Her hand slides higher, slow, testing the waters. Her fingers graze bare skin above your knee, slipping under your shorts, just a tease. You suck in a breath and she smiles, lazy and full of hunger.

Your hand catches hers, stopping it. But you don’t pull away.

She leans in, voice like honey and heat. “What? Library’s too sacred for you?”

Her thigh presses against yours. Her lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

And fuck it — your restraint breaks.

You grab her shirt, drag her in, and your mouths collide in a kiss that’s messy and angry and needy. Her tongue slides against yours, claiming, demanding, and you meet her just as fiercely, biting her lip hard enough to draw a sound out of her throat that goes straight to your core.

Her hand’s between your thighs now, moving with confident precision, knuckles dragging along the seam of your shorts. You gasp into her mouth, and she swallows it like she’s starving. Starting the fast circles on your clothed cunt.

And then—

Footsteps.

Voices.

She pulls away instantly, lips red, pupils blown, hand retreating.

She exhales, glancing toward the aisle. Then back at you.

“Guess we’ll finish this somewhere else,” she murmurs.

And with one last smirk, she gets up and walks away.

You pause

What the fuck just happened

And most importantly

Why the fuck did you enjoy it.

⸻

a/n: OH MY GOD, kinda cringed halfway through this but I hope you guys enjoyed💕💕 part 2??

[bleulikedaylight]

The Cat-astrophe Next Door

pairing: fur parent! natasha romanoff x fur parent! reader

synopsis: college life was already chaotic enough, but things took a sharp left turn when your sweet, innocent cat ended up pregnant—thanks to the mysterious feline next door. turns out, the culprit is none other than liho, the smug, too-handsome-for-his-own-good cat belonging to your intimidating (and unfairly attractive) condo neighbor, natasha romanoff.

warnings: mild language, implied pet mating/pregnancy (lmk if i missed smth !!) | wc: 1.9k | genre: rom-com, with a side of social media au !! <3

note: guys, it’s me again with another fic—hope you’re not tired of seeing me pop up on your feed LMFAOO. i had so much fun writing and editing this one !! also, liho is a boy cat in this au, and i used jennie as the face claim for Y/N because she’s iconic. i hope you guys enjoy !!! ><

part one ‎♡‧₊˚ part two

If there was one thing you thought you had under control in your life, it was your cat, Lily. She was graceful, soft, a little dramatic (gets it from you), and most importantly—indoor-only. Or so you thought.

Lily has been acting weird.

Not “she-scratched-my-ankle” weird. Not even “sat-on-my-laptop-during-a-Zoom-class” weird. No. This was something else. She’d been meowing dramatically, mood-swinging like a rom-com lead, and for some reason, she’d been eating like a linebacker after finals week. Most concerning of all? She had started waddling. Like... actually waddling, which would be funny—if it weren’t worrying. You Googled it (because of course you did), and then after spiraling through multiple Reddit threads and one frantic call to your mom, you decided to bring her to the vet.

And that’s how you ended up in the cold, sterile-smelling waiting room of the 24/7 animal clinic, wearing your worn-out college hoodie and slippers, holding Lily in a pink baby blanket. The receptionist had offered you a sympathetic smile, the kind that says, “Ah, another panicked pet parent. We’ve seen your type before.”

When the vet called you in, you followed like you were walking into a courtroom. The vet, Dr. Swift, was peppy. Too peppy for 2:14 a.m., but you appreciated the energy.

She cooed at Lily while examining her. “Well, she’s definitely healthy,” Dr. Swift said, smiling.

“That’s good,” you said, hugging the blanket tighter.

“She’s also pregnant.”

Pregnant.

Your baby girl, a mother?!

You stared. “She’s what.”

“Pregnant. A few weeks in, I’d say. Nothing to worry about—she’s young, strong, well-fed.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. “She’s… she’s never even left the apartment. You’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered in horror, holding the vet's report like it was a death certificate. "She’s too young. Too pure. She doesn’t even go outside!"

Your vet gave you a knowing look, like she’s seen a lot of clueless cat parents. “She must’ve found a way. Cats are clever.”

Clever. Right.

Your condo wasn’t Fort Knox, but it was secure. Except—

The one day last month when you opened the window to fix the air conditioner and Lily disappeared. You had screamed, searched, and panicked for ten straight minutes—only for her to casually reappear like she hadn’t just shaved ten years off your life. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just figured she got spooked and hid somewhere.

But now…

Now you remembered the Black Russian Blue that always lounged around the hallway. The same smug-looking cat that always stared into your window. The one who yowled dramatically outside your door during the night. The one who’d practically made bedroom eyes at Lily from across the screen.

Liho.

And if you remembered correctly, Liho belonged to the mysterious, intimidating, frustratingly gorgeous woman in 5C.

Natasha Romanoff.

Your mysterious next-door neighbor, Natasha Romanoff. Tall, quiet, and intimidatingly hot, She was the kind of woman who gave off 'could kill you but make it fashion' energy. Her cat was the same.

You had never officially spoken to her. Only shared elevator rides filled with awkward silence and exchanged the occasional nod in the hallway. She dressed like she was always on her way to fight crime. Or model. Or both. You’d once heard a neighbor whisper that she used to work in private security—or maybe she was in witness protection? Or maybe she was just that cool.

You stormed back into your unit and glared at Lily, who was now curled up innocently on your couch, licking her paw like she didn’t just ruin your entire week.

“This is your fault,” you muttered. “This is what happens when you flirt through the window slats.”

You weren’t crazy. You’d seen it. Late at night, your cat staring longingly through the balcony door, tail twitching. And across the small hallway gap, Liho would be staring back from his side of the building, eyes half-lidded and cocky.

Whatever the case, her cat got yours pregnant.

And now you had to knock on her door.

—

You spent the entire morning pacing in your living room.

Lily lay on the couch, blissfully unaware of the chaos she’d unleashed. You alternated between rehearsing your speech and having a breakdown.

“Hi! So funny story—our cats might be having kittens.”

Too casual.

“Your cat got my cat pregnant and I demand answers.”

Too aggressive.

“Would you like to co-parent?”

Too weird.

Eventually, you settled on a compromise between formality and desperation, printed out Lily’s vet report (just in case), and marched to Unit 5C.

You stood outside her door for a full minute before knocking. And when it opened, you almost forgot how to breathe.

Natasha looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, but in a cinematic, slow-motion, music-swelling kind of way. Her red hair was styled in a half-up, half-down look. The top portion is pulled back and secured, adding volume and keeping the hair away from her face, while the rest cascades down in soft waves, and she was wearing sweatpants and a fitted, long-sleeved, henley-style top in an olive green color. Her toned abs didn't need to be out like that. It was illegal. Offensive.

Her expression was blank but not unfriendly. “Yes?”

"Hi," you said with a very forced smile,

She raised an eyebrow. "Hey. Something wrong?"

You held up the vet report.

"Uh. Sorry to bother you. I’m Y/N—I live next door. My cat is pregnant. And your cat is the only male she's ever interacted with. So... unless immaculate feline conception is a thing, I'm pretty sure your cat knocked my cat up."

A pause.

She stared at you. Blinked once. Looked down at her mug. Looked back up.

“...Okay,” she said slowly. Then bit back a smirk. "You're telling me.. Liho is going to be a dad? That’s… one way to say good morning.”

You stared at her. “I just came back from the vet and she’s never been outside, except for that one time when she snuck out the window. And the only male cat she’s ever met is yours. Liho, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied, leaning on the doorframe. “Black Russian Blue. Fluffy. Thinks he’s royalty.”

You sighed. “Well, he’s now the father of unborn kittens.”

Natasha took another sip from her mug, her eyes never leaving you. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. The vet said she’s been pregnant for a few weeks, and that’s exactly when Lily had her little great escape.”

“Liho’s neutered now,” Natasha offered. “A week ago.”

“Lily beat the deadline,” you muttered.

There was a beat of silence. Then Natasha stepped back and opened the door wider.

“Come in.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You look like you haven’t slept. Come in. If our cats made kittens together, we might as well talk about logistics.”

You hesitated. “You’re not… mad?”

She shrugged. “Why would I be? I mean, I guess it’s a surprise, but I’m not exactly going to sue your cat.”

You snorted. She smirked.

You stepped inside.

Her condo was neat. Not in a minimalist, empty way—but cozy. Bookshelves. Plants. A couch that looked far more expensive than yours. There was a tall cat tree in the corner and a plush cat bed that clearly belonged to a spoiled prince. And lo and behold—Liho himself, perched dramatically like the Simba he thinks he is.

He blinked at you. Then at your stomach. Then back at you, as if to say, You're welcome.

You pointed at him. “He’s got no shame.”

Natasha sighed. “Yeah, he gets that from me.”

You choked on your spit. “What?”

She chuckled—actually chuckled—and disappeared into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You stood awkwardly, taking in the place. There was a framed photo on a shelf: Natasha holding Liho, both of them looking dangerously close to rolling their eyes. There were a few Post-it notes stuck to the fridge with neat, organized reminders.

Natasha returned with two mugs. One said “No.” The other said “I survived another day without punching anyone. Go me.” She handed you the latter.

You sat across from her at the dining table, mug in hand, papers between you.

“So,” she said, “how do you want to do this?”

You blinked. “You’re actually… interested?”

Natasha leaned back in her chair. “I mean, I can’t just walk away. That’s deadbeat dad behavior. Liho would never.”

You snorted again. She grinned.

You hadn’t expected this. Honestly, you had expected defensiveness, or maybe awkward avoidance. But Natasha was—surprisingly chill. Funny, even. Dry and a little sarcastic, but not mean. And as she sipped her coffee and asked about Lily’s health, you started to relax.

“We could co-parent,” you joked.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Shared custody?”

“Maybe not that intense, but like… I’ll keep you posted. When she gives birth, you can visit. Bring snacks. Maybe we’ll name one of them after you.”

“Or after Liho. He’ll want credit.”

“Do you think he knows?”

Natasha looked over at her cat. “Liho, you’re gonna be a dad.”

Liho yawned.

“I think he’s ready,” you deadpanned.

You both laughed.

And for a brief, quiet moment, it didn’t feel like you were just talking about cats anymore. It felt like something had shifted. Something tiny and electric.

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other,” you said.

Natasha met your gaze. “Guess so.”

You sipped your coffee. She sipped hers.

Outside, the hallway was silent. Inside, two cats stared at each other across a room—and two people smiled over the rim of their mugs.

—

"I am losing it—oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened." you groaned, flopping onto your bed and opening your group chat with Wanda, Agatha, and Rio.

You sent them a selfie of you holding the vet report while Lily snoozed peacefully behind you like she wasn’t the source of all this drama.

Meanwhile, on Natasha’s side.

Back on your side of the internet, you opened Twitter.

[ssuperrnnovaa]

— WHEN THEY FALL IN LOVE..

or, when there's no turning back for the first years.

a/n: first writing post.. AHH edit 1: i forgot to add things I DIDNT PROOFREAD SORRY

when ace trappola falls in love..

he's still the same guy. but almost sweet, almost kind.

but he's a master of his secrets. parts his mouth just to spew another joke about your appearance or how you did on that potionology test the other day - that same glint of hesitation in his eyes, that unsure croak of his voice just before he delivers another nasty quip about your face. like a punchline stuck in his throat - too funny to laugh at, too funny to acknowledge.

funny how he'd said he'd "rather hang out with his friends than find love", and here he is; laying in his bed. at 3 am. head filled with nothing but thoughts of you.

he'll let it simmer. wait for you to realize - wait for you to notice him, not just the facade he puts up. not the prankster he is in class, or the troublemaker you have to put up with.

wait for you to love him back.

when deuce spade falls in love..

he's trying his very best.

deuce was never much of a charmer - the guy's been a delinquent for most of his life; feared, not loved. he only sees (romantic) love in the movies - terrible rom-coms, poignant love stories.. you name it. deuce has no idea about love.

(his lack of knowledge gets worse with you.)

deuce tries - keyword, tries to keep his composure in front of you. he fails, miserably. his face? turning red. words? none. palms? sweating. and pride? absolutely crushed.

he apologizes to you later, blames it on the heat or how he forgot about another ridiculous rule. calls up his mom and his mouth is a dam - like he suddenly gained the ability to talk 10 minutes later. tells her all about you, as if she doesn't know your entire genetic code just from hearing him talk.

maybe one day.

when jack howl falls in love..

it's unyielding - unyielding, but quiet.

jack doesn't date for fun; never has, never will. he doesn't chase anyone.

wolves mate for life - you know it when jack immediately shuts down the idea of even having a crush or having an ex, saying that he's "focused on self-betterment" or "waiting for the right person". you're convinced that not even cupid could get him to fall in love.

but for you? that discipline shatters.

it happens during a study session in ramshackle when you're idly playing with his ears - making fun of that stone-cold persona when in reality he's melting under your touch. he catches himself after five minutes of bliss, thoughts of the future flooding his brain; "what if i won't be a good partner to them? what if i let them down?'

to jack, love isn't a game; love's not the way he feels embarrassingly giddy after you squeeze his hand or poke his bicep. love's permanent. forever. and it terrifies him.

when epel felmier falls in love..

it's fierce.

epel's not soft - in fact, he's everything but. he'd do anything to be seen as strong by you; even if it meant burying his own feelings.

epel was never much of a dreamer - let alone a lovey-dovey kind of guy. he despises those mushy romance stories, calling them "dumb as a box of rocks", grimacing when he watches the leads kiss.

yet.. he can't help but be entranced. by you.

he scoffs a little too loudly for vil's comfort, but in his head, he's repeating the same mantra over and over again in his head - "i'm not some silly little girl moonin' over someone. i've got better things to do with my time. besides, love is for babies."

yet, his defenses crumble when you ever do so much as breathe in his direction, and suddenly, he's back to square one.

when sebek zigvolt falls in love..

it's fervent.

sebek is passionate about a lot of things - his duty as a retainer, malleus, academics, and you.

you, a mere human that could quiet him down with just a finger to your lip. you, a mere human who keeps him awake at night and restless, overthinking. yearning.

it's foolish, he tells himself. tells himself it's just a small crush as if it's not all-consuming, as if he's not avoiding you all together just so he could have peace of mind.

is it the right thing to do? no. will it keep him unbothered? absolutely not. and will he come to terms with his feelings?... unlikely.