#6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did)

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Weekend Ramblings

GelBoys Episode 1

Great first episode. I like that they're using public transport and walking outside a lot, it feels more alive and realistic even if I have no real frame of reference. I like that the nails are telling the passage of time and this is going fast. The first episode spanned 3 months at least judging from that, probably more.The visuals are really good and I really like the editing, and the way it's shot almost makes me feel like I'm watching a documentary. Seems like this will be messy and angsty teenagers kinda bl and I'm ready.

Perfect 10 Liners Episode 16

I'm still comfortable in my hypocrisy and will use this gif whenever it suits me. Cause Faifa is me, in any other show but this one.

There's something about a brooder begrudgingly falling for the ray of sunshine he swore he’d never need, that I just adore. Add to that the fact that the brooder is played by Perth and I'm in uni bl heaven. I loved this arc so damn much. These two make such an adorable couple and Perth and Santa are great together. I'm surprised with their chemistry but also not, cause I think both of them can probably have chemistry with anyone. If they stay a pair for now I'm on board. Although I do enjoy seeing Perth kissing different boys. We had another parental forgiveness moment which I hate but at least she's moving away and I won't have to see her again. I love Faifa and as much as I hate saying goodbye to YothaGun, it's gonna be fun to watch him and Wine. I do hope just like ArcArm, I still get some crumbs from those two.

Boy Next World Episode 6

Say what you will about Mame but she can deliver a sex scene like no one else. I like that Phu has agency here and that there's real communication happening around and during the nc scenes. Boss and Noeul also deliver as usual but I find the dynamic a little too similar to LITA, and I don't love that. I think it happens more when it comes to Noeul, although I concede that I'm often too distracted by Boss's face to notice much of anything at all, but there are moments that I'm seeing Rain instead of Phu. Fake dating seems to be the go-to these days to keep psychos away and I'm not mad about it. That mother though. His stalking tendencies notwithstanding, it’s a wonder Cir is a functioning human at all. I really like the sides and I adore Jin.

Sangmin Dinneaw Episode 7

This show continues to be the weirdest. And I don't know what I did to deserve this but I think I got a double prize today. Amnesia plot my beloathed and some noble idiocy to follow. At least when it comes to the amnesia we were warned. Although I'm not sure when he actually remembered, so he might not have had amnesia at all. Honestly, who knows with this show? Half the time, I have no idea what's happening, and the other half, I wish I didn't. That scene with the sides gave us the usual whiplash, and the scene with the mother was just insane. It's psycho mom's day, apparently. At least with this one, we got to see some mom-on-mom fighting. It's all bonkers but at least there's only one more episode to go. Sangmin better have a damn good reason for leaving, although I doubt it. At least let me have some fluff from these two, cause they are cute. Also why is the hotel dude still breathing?

[catzz089]

“Omg could you imagine how terrifying it would be if your just having fun matting with your friends then suddenly an F1 driver pulled up??”

No, I couldn’t. I’m shit at imagining.

I Like writing though

“Charles, please. We are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Max called through the door to their bedroom.

“I’m almost done!” Charles screamed back, still rifling through something in their bedroom, causing an overflow of mess that Max would somehow be coerced into cleaning up.

Max sighed, how come this happens every single time Max tries to plan something nice for them both, he really just needs to let Charles stick with the planning.

Charles slammed the bedroom door open, waltzing up to him and spinning, throwing his arms out,

“How do I look?”

What idiot stares at Max with the most gorgeous looking face known in history, and a perfectky accentuating outfit and then has the gall to ask how he looks?

Well, aside from Max’s idiot bug that’s a conversation for another time.

“Gorgeous, get in the car.”

He sighed dramatically, “it’s like you don’t even love me anymore, baby.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Max deadpanned, “Now please get going, we are cutting it way too close right now.”

Charles grabbed his hand, and began walking outside, “We’ll be fine mom cœur, you’ve left us ages of time, stop stressing.” He brought their hands up, planting a delicate kiss on Max’s hand.

Max pouted, “you can’t just kiss me and expect me to forgive you for taking literal hours ti get ready.”

“Yes, I can. Now hop in.”

“Wait I thought I was driving?”

Charles opened the passenger door, forcing him down inside.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p, “you thought wrong. You’ve done too much, let me drive.” He began doing the belt on Max’s seat.

Which was entirely unnecessary.

But quite sweet.

Not that Max would ever admit it, Charles would get far too big a head.

Charles jumped into the drivers seat, resting a hand on Max’s thigh and high-tailing the car out of their, knocking over their own bin as he did.

“Seriously? If your going to destroy property, at least make it someone else’s, I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Then pay someone to deal with it, I’m pretty sure you have the money for that.”

Max sighed, leaning back in his seat and gripping onto the car door, it probably wouldn’t save his life but security was security when you’re in a car with Charles Leclerc.

By the time they reached the track, they very much were late, only by 10 minutes or so, but still.

Late.

Max grabbed at Charles’ hand, running off to the changing rooms and dragging him behind.

“Max! Come on,” he whined, “Slow down, I haven’t gone for a run this entire off season, I’m going to get a stitch.”

“Your not that unfit, Schat, I want to get in the track, hurry up!”

“Maxie,” he complained, again, “we are on the track like every weekend, why are you so desperate to go back, it’s our holiday.”

Max just huffed, shoving on his race suit- Redbull, obviously, he’s not wearing some rental- and dashing down to the karts.

Charles groaned, running after him.

There was already an array of kids, all around 6-14 years old already down there and driving.

Charles had the pleasure of watching first hand as their jaws dropped, and nothing but pure terror filled their eyes.

His oblivious little boyfriend however, was far too focused on finding one of the remaining karts with the best tires and bagging that for himself to notice the kids trying to escape the track.

It’s not like they were even going to be racing strangers, just eachother.

Yeah, sure, they may just happen to be driving in the exact same track at the exact same track, but neither of them would ever dare to cause an accident.

Hopefully.

When the started their karts, Max bolted it into the track, making some poor 10 year old serve his car out of the way to maintain a good distance away, Charles screamed an apology behind him and followed in quick pursuit.

Their two hour session lasted a lot like that.

Charles ramming his kart into Max, subsequently banging into another kid

Max screaming in delight at overtaking Charles, scaring the child in front, making her flinch so badly she binned it into the wall.

Charles realising that the kart he thought was Max’s, was in fact a slightly older kid, so yelling “I beat you!” Into his face as he crossed the start line a millimetre in front was NOT the flex he thought it was.

In Charles’ defence, Max was arguably far worse than him, deliberately falling behind Charles to beat into him one too many times that he too, forgot the difference between a monegasque F1 driver, and a teenager, swerving his car into hers, knocking them both out of the track.

It was the most fun either of them had felt in a long while.

Neither of them were allowed back.

[iamalasagnagirl]

Pls, pls, pls I need more WLW book recommendations!!!

Adults, YA, spicy, soft, I don’t care. I just need wlw books because I want to switch from fanfics only to actual books as well

Okay, here we are, enjoy :)

Bright Falls Series by Ashley Herring Blake: 1. Delilah Green Doesn't Care -> Delilah Green swore she would never go back to Bright Falls - nothing is there for her except memories of a lonely childhood - but when Delilah's stepsister pressures her into photographing her wedding with a guilt trip and a large check, Delilah finds herself back in Bright Falls once more. She plans to breeze in and out, but then she sees Claire Sutherland, one of Astrid's stuck-up besties, and decides that maybe there's some fun (and a little retribution) to be had, after all. 2. Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail -> For Astrid Parker failure is unacceptable. When Pru Everwood asks her to be the designer for the Everwood Inn's renovation, which will be featured on a hugely popular home makeover show, Astrid is thrilled. However, Astrid never planned on Jordan Everwood, Pru's granddaughter and the lead carpenter for the renovation, who despises every modern design decision Astrid makes. Is she going to pursue the life that she's expected to lead or the one that she really wants? 3. Iris Kelly doesn't date -> Everyone around Iris Kelly is in love and she’s happy for all of them, truly. Iris doesn’t want any of that—dating, love, romance. She’ll stick to her commitment-free hookups. There’s only one problem—Iris is a romance author facing an imminent deadline for her second book, and she’s completely out of ideas. Perfectly happy to ignore her problems as per usual, Iris goes to a bar and meets a sexy stranger, Stefania, and a night of dancing and making out turns into the worst one-night stand Iris has had in her life. To get her mind off everything, Iris tries out for the lead role in a local play, a queer retelling of Much Ado About Nothing, but comes face-to-face with Stefania, whose real name turns out to be Stevie. Desperate to save face in front of her friends, Stevie asks Iris to play along as her girlfriend. Iris is shocked, but when she realizes the arrangement might provide her with some much-needed romantic content for her book, she agrees. As the two women play the part of a happy couple, lines start to blur.

Falls from grace by Ruby Landers -> Savannah Grace and her band were huge stars in Nashville. Now enlists Noah Lyman - an indie musician - to help her break out of country music and make a name for herself for once and for all. They have to spend the winter in Savannah secluded vacation home in the woods of Vermont, and Noah brings along his best friend Brynn Marshall and pretend she’s his wife? After all, what could possibly go wrong?

The secret of you and me by Melissa Lenhardt -> Nora hasn’t looked back. Not since she fled Texas to start a new life. Now she can live—and love—however she wants. The only problem is that she also left behind the one woman she can’t forget. Now tragedy calls her back home to confront her past—and reconcile her future.

Books by Haley Cass: - Those Who Wait and the follow-up Forever and A Day -> Spencer Sutton, the daughter of a congressman, and Charlotte Thompson, New York City’s youngest deputy mayor, meet on SapphicSpark, a women-seeking-women dating app. Sutton isn’t built for casual, and Charlotte needs to keep a low profile as the race heats up. In spite of that, a friendship blossoms as Charlotte helps Sutton navigate the dating world. - Down to A Science -> Ellie Beckett is a scientific genius finishing a Ph.D. at MIT, sitting on her stool at her favorite bar, putting the final touches on her thesis - her life is predictable and comfortable enough, until the night Mia Sharpe walks in to play pool with some friends and things are never the same again. and On the same Page -> Riley Beckett met Gianna Mäkinen their first year at Boston University, and it changed everything for the both of them. She knows Gianna doesn't do romance or relationships, and she knows nothing could ever come between them. But when a holiday party mix-up sets in motion a domino effect of changes, Riley has to question everything she thought she knew about their relationship. What, exactly, does Gianna mean to her after all? - In the Long Run -> Taylor Vandenberg is busy running a successful travel blog. Brooke Watson and Taylor’s younger brother have been best friends for the majority of their lives. It means that even if Taylor isn’t physically present, she’s always been a part of Brooke’s most monumental life experiences. When Taylor lands back in Faircombe for an extended stay, it leads to more run-ins than Brooke would like. And more feelings than either may want to admit. - When You Least Expect It & Better Than Expected (I haven't had a chance to read them yet, but I have seen them recommended a lot)

If tomorrow doesn't come by Jen St. Jude -> On the morning Avery Byrne plans to end her life, the world discovers there are only nine days left to live: an asteroid is headed for Earth, and no one can stop it. As time runs out and secrets slowly come to light, Avery fights her way home to save the girl she has been in love with her whole life. But can Avery also learn to save herself and find hope again in the tomorrows she has left?

Kiss her once for me by Alison Cochrun -> Ellie had a Christmas Eve meet-cute with a woman at a bookstore that led her to fall in love over the course of a single night. The next year, Andrew, the shop’s landlord where Ellie works, proposes a shocking, drunken plan: a marriage of convenience that will benefit both of them. They make a plan to spend the holidays together at his family cabin to keep up the ruse. But when Andrew introduces his new fiancée to his sister, Ellie is shocked to discover is the mysterious woman she fell for over the year before.

6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did) by Tess Sharpe -> Penny and Tate keep almost kissing. It’s just this confusing thing that keeps happening. You know, from time to time. For basically their entire teenaged existence.  They’ve never talked about it. They’ve always ignored it in the aftermath. But now they’re living across the hall from each other. And some things—like their kisses—can’t be almosts forever. 

Nottingham: the true story of Robin Hood by Anna Burke -> (A retelling of Robin Hood's story with a Female Robin and wlw couples) After a fateful hunting accident sends her on the run from the law, Robyn finds herself deep in the heart of Sherwood Forest. All she really wants to do is provide for her family and stay out of trouble, but when the Sheriff of Nottingham levies the largest tax in the history of England, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands. Relying on the help of her band of merry women and the Sheriff’s intriguing—and off limits—daughter, Marian, Robyn must find a way to pull off the biggest heist Sherwood has ever seen.

Forget me not by Alyson Derrick -> Stevie has a terrible fall. And when she comes to, she can remember nothing of the last two years—not California, not coming to terms with her sexuality, not even her girlfriend Nora. Suddenly, Stevie finds herself in a life she doesn’t quite understand. And Nora finds herself…forgotten.

It goes like this by Miel Moreland -> Eva, Celeste, Gina, and Steph used to play in world-famous queer pop band called Moonlight Overthrow. But after a sudden falling out leads to the dissolution of the teens' band, their friendship, and Eva and Celeste's starry-eyed romance, nothing is the same. Until a storm devastates their hometown, bringing the four ex-best-friends back together. As they prepare for one last show, they'll discover whether growing up always means growing apart.

Dominion Series by J J Arias: 1. Losing Control  -> Talent agent Adriana Ortiz’s world is rocked when she’s thrust into the tumultuous orbit of Roxy, the raw, enigmatic pop rebel with a notorious edge and a guarded heart. Tasked with steering the wild Roxy on a whirlwind tour, Adriana boards Roxy’s opulent tour bus. The nights are filled with roaring crowds, but it’s the electric tension between Roxy and Adriana that sets the air on fire. A forbidden connection that threatens to consume them. Is the wild, unbridled Roxy worth the risk to Adriana’s career, or is she just another woman falling victim to Roxy’s charms? 2. Fighting for Control  -> Lola Barros is a rising talent agent burning with ambition. Carmen Vargas is a dedicated lawyer poised to conquer the legal field. Their shared high-rise is the only thing these two powerhouses have in common. After a trivial parking mishap snowballs onto a full-blown feud, Lola and Carmen are thrust into unconventional anger management sessions and their fiery rivalry gives way to smoldering desire. But yielding to desire isn't straightforward. Between the shadows of demanding careers and familial expectations, their love is tested. Can Lola and Carmen find a balance between ambition and affection? 3. Relinquishing Control  -> Natalia Flores rules her exclusive talent agency with an iron fist, brokering blockbuster deals while keeping everyone at arm’s length. But beneath the cold exterior lies a heart that yearns to be understood. Enter Professor Samantha Reyes—brilliant, fierce, and unwilling to let Natalia manipulate her way into the film rights to her book. Their encounters spark with tension and undeniable chemistry. In a world where control is everything, can two powerful women let go of their fears to find a love that’s worth the risk?

11:59 by Erica Lee -> TJ Edmonds has created a whole brand around not getting attached to other people. She has a best-selling novel and a popular phone app both dedicated to helping people stay detached from their significant others, so they don't get hurt. But the only reason she can move on so quickly now is because she still hasn't let go of someone from her past. It's easy to guard her heart when she no longer has it to give away. TJ texts Brooke everyday at 11:59 pm with no answers. What happens when, in a moment of weakness, this someone reaches out to TJ?

Price and Prejudice and the city by Rachel Lippincott -> Seventeen-year-old Audrey Cameron has lost her spark. After an embarrassing run-in with her ex-boyfriend, she’s told that she needs to get back out there and take risks. What she doesn't expect is to be transported to Regency England! Lucy Sinclair has her own problems when Audrey lands into her life, claiming to be from two hundred years in the future, it's a welcome distraction.

Never ever getting back together by Sophie Gonzales -> Maya and Skye are invited to star on the reality dating show Second-Chance Romance, to compete for their now famous ex-boyfriend's affections while the whole world watches. Skye wonders if she and Jordy can recapture the spark she knows they had, but Maya has other plans.

The art of us by KL Hughes -> Charlee and Alex fell in love at nineteen and dated for four years. Theirs was an enviable love — evergreen and growing. Unbreakable…Until it broke. Alex’s job now brings her back to Boston, after five years. When, by chance, they meet again, Charlee and Alex are swept up in a whirlwind of heart-rending history, tossed between past and present, and lovers old and new. Will their lingering connection be enough to convince them that some loves are meant to last? Or should the past remain in the past?

That secret something by Emily Wright -> Rebecca Lawson is off-limits. Jess knows this, but Rebecca has captured her heart for as long as she can remember. She’s sporty, tall and confident—all the things Jess is not—but most of all…she’s her best friend Lily’s sister. But when Jess and Rebecca are forced to spend time together the forbidden feelings intensify and sparks begin to fly. Amidst the chaos of raging bridezillas and other wedding disasters, can Jess resist temptation for the sake of her friendship?

The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid  -> Aging and reclusive Hollywood movie icon Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. Summoned to Evelyn's luxurious apartment, Monique listens in fascination as the actress tells her story. From making her way to Los Angeles in the 1950s to her decision to leave show business in the '80s, and, of course, the seven husbands along the way

That summer feeling by Bridget Morrissey -> Turns out you're never too old for a summer camp romance. Or a change of heart. When a divorced woman attends a sleepaway camp for adults only, she reconnects with a man from her past - only to catch feelings for his sister instead.

Some of these are my absolute favourites, I've lost count of how many times I've read them. I cannot get enough of "the bright falls series", "One the same page", "Those who wait", "The secret of you and me" and the last entry "Falls From Grace". No matter how many times I read them. And sometimes I wish I could read them again, as if for the first time, if that makes sense. Anyway, I have a lot more titles. Let me know if you want them or not. Enjoy the reading

[ask-pjo-hoo-toa]

ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ~ ᴘ. ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ

req. hiii can i please request a percy jackson x fem!reader? daughter of aphrodite, loving sunshine kind of girl, plot based off ‘wonderland’ by taylor swift?

summary. you and percy got lost in wonderland and life was never better.

warnings. use of (y/n), cussing, kinda short??

eeli0r's notes. this one was, i'll admit, a little tricky lol, but super fun! (y/n) and percy are both 17-ish. thanks @riordanness for the ask! also some parts are inspired by 6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did) by tess sharpe

june twenty-third

you and percy were best friends. you did (almost) everything together and you'd defend each other no matter the cost.

you were sitting around the campfire, having a grand ol' time. you were laughing and singing and you and percy could barely breathe because you were laughing so hard.

you know how aphrodite is with seeing people who don't know they're in love. and you know how she is when it's her daughter.

so she looked at you for a long moment before smiling down from olympus, waving a hand, and sitting back to watch the scene.

suddenly percy stopped laughing. he stared at you for a long moment, simply gawking in awe of your practically sparkling appearance, and gradually the sounds around you came to an eerie silence.

gasps from the audience. you blinked before looking up, and fluttering above your head was the hologram of a white dove.

"aphrodite," breathed percy.

chiron cleared his throat. "all hail (y/n), the daughter of the goddess of love and beauty!"

"holy shit, (n/n)," percy said, and chiron sent him a warning glance but no way in hell was his attention diverted like that. "you're...wow. wow. you're...stunning."

and he was right. you were stunning. suddenly the most beautiful person at the campfire, though percy would argue you were that already.

july seventh

percy didn't know how to tell you. you were the daughter of aphrodite, for fuck's sake, and he wasn't sure you could ever retaliate feelings for him.

there was something about you. you were so incredibly caring, so bright and smiley whenever he was around, it was hard not to catch feelings.

he asked his friends for advice, and the main thing they could give him was "don't rush into things."

as percy walked up to you, alone in the archery range, his eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite place.

he took a deep breath. "hey," he said, putting on a casual tone and a smile.

you smiled back. and fuck, you had a smile that could light up tartarus. "hi!" you greeted him.

little did he know you'd liked him since you'd met him. and when he didn't notice, you looked at him like he was the one that put the stars in the sky.

percy's stomach flipped as it sunk in what he was about to say. "soo," he started, trying to play it cool though he knew he was probably red in the face. "i just wanted to say....um....i think you're really beautiful," he blurted out. "i mean, um, i mean --- "

you cut him off. "do you mean 'you're my friend and i think you're really beautiful' or 'you're beautiful and i kinda wanna date you?'"

percy blinked. "...the latter?" he said.

your brain took a moment to process this. percy jackson. liked. you back.

you didn't see yourself as beautiful. so how could he?... he was the popular, hot son of poseidon.

and you were...what?

as if reading your mind, percy said, "you're gorgeous. loving. happy. what is there not to like?"

you opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first. "can i be your boyfriend?" he asked.

you fidgeted. "what if i do something wrong?"

percy grinned, something like that of the cheshire cat. (we love a poet without knowing it) "then we'll talk about it, (y/n)." he threw one arm to the left side, the grin slowly fading. "wait for a second while i make a point. that is the tension that's always been there." he threw his other arm to the right side. "that is what we could be. see? that's, like, big progress.

his arms are wide; beckoning.

you took a quick glance to the left, right, behind, and close the gap. "big progress?" you say teasingly. "big grammar."

percy pokes you in the forehead. "you're not a daughter of athena. shhh."

after a long moment of gazing, percy is the one that breaks first.

his lips press against yours and you know it's always been this, this kairos, the fleeting rightness of the moment that it would happen.

the atmosphere around you seemed to change as you kissed. first a dark scene, then a cabin-like room, then a vine-covered undergrowth with a small door that might've been big enough for a rabbit.

in that moment, you decided you wanted to be like silena.

minus the dying part. that would not be fun.

the last thing --- hell, it didn't even make the list --- you wanted to do was break percy's heart. that would be just horrible; you loved him.

september eleventh

you and percy had been dating for two, three-ish months now, and it had been basically wonderland.

if there were a hundred people who loved percy jackson, you were one of those people, and vice versa.

if there was one person who loved you, it was percy jackson, and vice versa.

if no one loved either of you, both of you never existed and never would exist.

you went to the same school and made sure of that. and as your pinky hooked around percy's, followed by your whole hand, your boyfriend marvelled at the touch.

you can do this now, he reminded himself. you can reach out and touch her and she'll kiss you and you won't have to run away from her or yourself or any feelings.

life was never better in wonderland, and it could never be better when you had each other by your side.

[sapphicbookoftheday]

6 Times We Almost Kissed (And One Time We Did) by Tess Sharpe

Today's sapphic book of the day is 6 Times We Almost Kissed (And One Time We Did) by Tess Sharpe!

Summary: "Six moments lead us to two girls, one kiss, and three little words that were maybe always true in this gorgeous novel perfect for fans of Nina LaCour and Jenny Han.   Penny and Tate have always clashed. Unfortunately, their mothers are lifelong best friends, so the girls’ bickering has carried them through playdates, tragedy, and more than one rom-com marathon with the Moms. When Penny’s mother decides to become a living donor to Tate’s mom, ending her wait for a liver transplant, things go from clashing to cataclysmic. Because in order to help their families recover physically, emotionally, and financially, the Moms combine their households the summer before senior year.   So Penny and Tate make a pact: They’ll play nice. Be the drama-free daughters their mothers need through this scary and hopeful time. There’s only one little hitch in their plan: Penny and Tate keep almost kissing.   It’s just this confusing thing that keeps happening. You know, from time to time. For basically their entire teenaged existence.   They’ve never talked about it. They’ve always ignored it in the aftermath. But now they’re living across the hall from each other. And some things—like their kisses—can’t be almosts forever."

[i-think-i-can-speak-here-backup]

okay everyone needs to go read 6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did) by tess sharpe

it's been sooooooo long since i've read such a good sapphic romance, i am genuinely in tears, i love them so much ahdjgjakshfjkfkh

[wahlpaper]

6 Times We Almost Kissed Review

6 Times We Almost Kissed (and One Time We Did) by Tess Sharpe - WLW Contemporary Dark YA Romance - 4.5/5

Reading Tess Sharpe's 6 Times We Almost Kissed (and One Time We Did) (which I'll be referring to without its subtitle for the majority of this review), was like handling Pandora's Box. The book was tempting with its cute cover and promise of a Sapphic enemies-to-lovers story. Then I began reading and the monsters kept spilling out. There's so much darkness in those pages, sometimes graphic. However, I promise there's hope in the end. Please take the content warnings list seriously for this book. I absolutely recommend the novel, but only if you understand it's not as light as the cover and title imply. 

6 Times We Almost Kissed takes place during the summer when Penny's mother donates part of her liver to Tate's mother. Done in order to save Tate's mother from cancer. Penny and Tate bicker constantly, but they must call a truce if they want to cut down on possible stress for their mothers. Except they both have feelings for the other that they've been trying to ignore. How long will it take for those to come to the surface without the banter standing in the way? To make things more intense, Tate and her mother move in with Penny and her's to save money. The romantic feelings aren't the only secrets being buried. Penny's awful relationship with her mother has been unaddressed for too long. Will anyone be able to get through the summer without breaking?

...

Read More:

[gojonanami]

c/w: cuddly gojo, househusband!gojo, based on the gojo centric interview Gege did

“Are you done yet?”

“No,”

“…how about now?”

“Nope,”

“How about—“

You glance up from your stacks of paperwork, watching your husband smile up at you, lips curled in that perfect smile of his, as innocent as he was guilty of distracting you.

“Y’know asking me repeatedly if I’m done is surprisingly slowing down the process,” and he’s pouting all the same, “do you want something, Toru?”

“Want or need?” And his arms are curling around your back, “I need your attention, because my pretty wife has spent too much of her time on paperwork and not focusing on her very handsome househusband,”

“Very handsome?” And you can feel his pout grow deeper, “I’m just kidding,” you giggle, leaning into him, “my very gorgeous househusband should remember that I have to finish this paperwork tonight and once I do, I’m all his,” And he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “this is nice,”

“Hm?” he mumbles into your skin.

“Usually you were the one working until 4 am, but now, you get to rest and I only work until 6:00 PM, and we get to just…live,” you lean into his touch, “I never thought we’d get here,”

“Me either,” he smiles against your skin, “never thought I’d have a family either,”

“Too bad you’re stuck with me now,” and you guide his hands to your slightly rounded stomach, “and baby too,”

His gaze softens, “Do you have to wait to start your leave? Couldn’t you give all your paperwork to Ijichi or Nanami?”

“I’m not in the habit of passing my work over to other people,” you pinch his nose, before kissing it, “I’m almost done, but how about we stay like this until I finish?”

“How about we stay like this forever?” And you roll your eyes.

“Deal.”

[tpwk-formula1]

Could you please write a story where lando x reader have basically 'adopted' keegan (even tho he's like 3 yrs younger than them) and she hates whenever they make him do dangerous stuff

AN: SPECIAL EXTRA FLUFF POST!!!! (I know I said I wasn't gonna post a fluff this week but this came in and I got too excited so I quickly wrote it before work! NOT proof read!

OMG stop I absolutely love this idea!! I stopped writing a fic to get this one started! I did switch timelines just a big to make the story work so pretend the video on Quadrant where Keegan tried Karting for the first time happened after summer break!

TW: NONE

WC: 1.1K

Y/N POV

"Keegs, have you eaten anything today?" I ask walking up to him with the sandwich I had made for him before we had left for the yacht day.

"I had breakfast," he says softly knowing we had eaten over 6 hours ago and he had been outside all day in the sun.

"Keegan, you're an athlete stop being stupid," I laugh while tossing him the sandwich which he great fully took and started eating it.

"He's a grown man, love. Let him live," Lando tells me softly while approaching me from behind and taking me into his hold.

"You too Norris, sit down and eat," I say while passing him the second sandwich which has him groaning but instantly sitting next to Keegan and starts eating his sandwich.

"Whipped," I hear Max Fewtrell say from somewhere else on the yacht making me shake my head and threaten him with the last sandwich in hand.

"You and P are such moms," Max rolls his eyes while taking the food from me and sitting next to his best friend.

Over the last year or so the friendship between Lando and Keegan had grown from more than just a sponsored athlete to a truth friendship. When the younger boy started coming around it was almost instant that my motherly instincts kicked in with him.

I mean hell when he called us after winning gold at the Paris Olympics I hadn't stopped crying from podium. He still laughs about it and even pokes fun but he has also on multiple occasions expressed how thankful he to have Lando and I in his life.

Once the yacht day has come to an end we make our way back to the house we had rented for the week.

"We're going cliff jumping tomorrow, do you guys want to come?" Martin's friends asked the rest of us when we had made it back to the house.

"No," I instantly say a long with P while all the boys instantly say "yes" making me look directly at them.

"Have you all lost your damn mind? 1 of you is in contract for racing which mind you comes back in just a few weeks and the other just came off of Olympic gold, you need to be fucking careful," I start ranting while Martin starts laughing at the group dynamic not expecting anything less from us.

"It's fine, we'll be fine," Lando reassures me making me me shake my head.

"Get Zak's approval and then it's fine," I say with a smirk and a little shoulder shrug knowing his boss would lose his ever living mind if he found out his young driver is trying to do something so dangerous.

"Please! I promise we wont get hurt," Lando begs giving me his puppy dog eyes I have never been able to say no to, a long with Keegan behind him giving me the same look.

"Okay fine, but I swear to God if you get hurt," I say while pointing a finger before the two boys.

With that the broke out in bright smiles and Lando instantly took me into his arms and places a few kisses on my lips.

We're now coming to the end of our trip when Lando and I are relaxing in bed having some much needed downtime when a knock rings out through our room.

"Come in," I call out grabbing my bookmark and putting the book I was reading to the side.

When Keegan walks in he has a nervous expression written all over his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask sitting up a bit taller making Lando sit up a bit more noticing the serious expression written across the younger man's face.

"Can I ask for some advice?" Keegan says while walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Of course, you can sit on the bed," I say laughing a little when I noticed him awkwardly standing near the end of the bed.

"So I've been talking to this girl," Keegan starts while sitting on the bed.

"Aye! My man," Lando says excitedly while dapping Keegan up making his cheeks grow even redder.

"Well anyways, her name is Ella and we've been talking for awhile and I want to make it official but I'm nervous she might say no and I also need ideas on how to plan the perfect date to ask," Keegan admits making me smile. While it might have been Lando's first time hearing about about Ella, Keegan had already come to me about her and from what I had gathered he really liked her and she seemed really sweet.

After about an hour of planning the most perfect date for Keegan to take Ella on he thanked up both before leaving the room with a bright smile on his face.

"That's my son for real," Lando says laughing making me shake my head with a laugh falling from my lips.

"He's such an awesome kid," I reply back before cuddling closer into Lando's side.

"Did you pull the same move on Carlos when you where asking me out," I tease with a smirk on my face.

"Maybe," Lando admits with his cheeks reddening.

It's been a few weeks since summer break and we already have a week off from racing which means it's time to film for Quadrant and as we pull up to the track both Lando and Max have been suspiciously quiet about what we will be filming.

When we pull up to the track I see Keegan almost instantly making everything click for me.

"No! He is not about to hope in a kart without any training!" I say sternly making Max laugh and Lando turn and give me a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, he can drive a car, he can drive in a few circles on a kart," Lando says but it just makes me groan and throw my head back.

Lando did end up giving Keegan a small run down before filming and once he was in the first Kart I could already feel my stomach drop. He was going as fast as his car will allow him to go but you can see the difference between Lando's control of the Kart and his control but after the first lap he was able to adjust and already looked more comfortable.

As the karts got faster the more I go stressed. Keegan was clearly having an amazing time in the karts but my anxiety is going through the roof.

By the end of the video it is clear to all of us that Keegan loved every moment of it and even asked the next time he could drive one.

When the video was posted fan instantly clung to the fact that I was like a mom to Keegan. I mean an entire compilation was made where it was every moment I made a comment, face, or gasp throughout the short video making fans across F1 laugh at the endearing moments between friends.

------

Sorry it feels a bit rushed I just loved the idea and might even circle back around in the future and add to the story

[bluem1lls]

Hai can you make one where she’s clingy? She’s her same usual self except she’s really clingy. Like she’s clingy in a way but she’s still hot or “nonchalant” about it. Oh and the setting of this story is after the big whole fight scene where she got her ahh killed. Except she doesn’t die this time and wasn’t fighting with nam-gyu in the first place. She was hiding with Gi-huns group. Go hard on the fluff I’m begging.

✧₊⁺ you belong with me!

✦ synopsis: your best friend is so clingy, she might wanna ruin the friendship! content: pure fluff, being best friends although you both want something more, shes clingy (if she doesn't have you besides her she might die) authors note: hiii sorry for taking so long! its so short but i hope u like it💓

⠄⠂☆ she has always been super clingy to you, even though you've been best friends for a while (because you were both cowards who couldn't talk about feelings)

⠄⠂☆ she told you she wanted to get into the game and if that meant you could both win and help her pay her debts, you're on

⠄⠂☆ because you'd do anything to help the person you love. your... best friend.

⠄⠂☆ but she's SOOO into you, she wants to protect you all the time and that means she constantly needs to be by your side

⠄⠂☆ like literally. don't even get me started when the game begins. like middle of the night, you're almost peeing yourself so you wake up to run quickly to the bathroom as you see her sitting up, rubbing her eyes so sleepy as she stares at you confused.

"where are we going?" she asks, her voice still soggy from a deep sleep.

"bathroom, but stay here and sleep-"

yeah no. she's already up by your side, dragging her feet.

⠄⠂☆ so with every game she becomes more and more protective and clingy, she's so afraid that something might happen to you. she can't leave you alone!

⠄⠂☆ this is only a side for you to see tho. ask anyone else, they'd be amazed to know the girl that looks like they could kill them is so soft for her girl (not really her girl but you get it) (she says you are)

⠄⠂☆ "oh please. you're judging him? you get the same nerves, except you shut them out with one of your pills" she says to nam-gyu.

you're getting closer because you just KNOW this will end up bad and when he notices you, he mumbles something to her.

not even two minutes after, he's on the floor with a bloody nose and a purple eye.

deserved.

⠄⠂☆ "what did he said?" you say, washing her knuckles as she hissed. her right hand letting the water run to wash the blood while her left arm was wrapped around your waist.

"something fucking dumb"

"what does that mean? oh wait did he said something about my body or-"

she snorted, rolling her eyes while mumbling.

"he said that if i keep bothering him, he'll 'steal my little girlfriend' and that it wouldn't bother him seeing you underneath him"

and you're frozen, staring at her wide eyed as you make a grossed out expression.

"ew, oh my god"

she nods.

"did you get mad that you got the mental image of me undrrneath him or mad he was about to steal your little girlflriend?" i teased her, softly chuckling

"maybe both" she mumbled, looking away.

wait what?

⠄⠂☆ it doesn't take you both more than two minutes until you're locked in the bathroom stall making out.

"fuck, i can't believe i've missed this the last 6 years of my life" she says in between kisses.

biting her lips, i nod excited.

"well, then it's time to get moving" i said, lifting and removing my shirt as she stares.

⠄⠂☆ yeah. she's down bad for her girl. completely.

⠄⠂☆ after that, you're both on the common room again, faces flushed but she's hugging you from behind. now she can finally say you're hers and she's so happy she might cry.

⠄⠂☆ and when it's time for 'lights out'?

you're both underneath a bed with jun-hee and her ex.

⠄⠂☆ from the corner of your eye, you noticed nam gyu trying to get close, looking for someone.

"uh, sem? wait here"

"what? no?" she says, grabbing your arm.

"wait here, i'm serious. i'll be fine" i said running from her grip and getting up from underneath.

he spots you as he walks towards you. he's filled with blood.

"what the fuck do you want?" you ask him as he stares at you, thirsty for a new fight.

"hi doll, where's that little girlfriend of yours?"

"why do you wanna know?" you reply as he rolls his eyes and gets closer to you.

"why don't you just tell me hm? i'd like to keep that pretty face with no cuts"

you kick him in the balls as he winces in pain and tries to stab you with the shard of glass, but only manages to do a deep scratch on your ribs.

as he stands up, leaving aside the pain to throw himself at you, someone grabs him from the neck and chokes him, only to twist his head. his body falls to the ground as you stare at in-ho with your mouth open in surprise.

you quickly run to hug him as he stays there, frozen in place. he haven't felt a hug in so long, he honestly forgot how that felt.

"thank you so much" you said as he pats your back with a small smile.

"we can't lose one of us"

⠄⠂☆ when you're back, your girlfriend looks like she's about to have a panic attack as you see her checking every corner.

once she sees you, she lets out a breathing she didn't even know she was holding as she run towards you.

"what the fuck? where were you?" she grabs your face and places a peck on your lips. "you can't do that to me because what if i lost you or-"

"se-mi, i love you so much" you kiss her as she holds you, quickly replying to your kiss.

as the lights turn on, you two get back to the group to stay safe.

⠄⠂☆ and so it goes, another day more in this fucked up place, but while she's here, you can survive anywhere.

[fangdokja]

Hello!

May I ask you about yandere!ex - boyfriend?

Did the yandere tendencies begin with the relationship or did they materialize after the breakup? And will there be a fic about him in the future?

Thankyou for answering in advance! 🫶

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

❤︎ Synopsis. A calculated partnership born out of convenience spirals into something far darker, as control slips and obsession takes root. What started as a deal now feels like a dangerous game—and neither of them is willing to lose.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 9,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, objectification, suggestive themes, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching

♡ A/N. Another planned work in my drafts that I haven’t released yet before, but here it is now. Technically an ask, but I prefer to answer this with a fic :)) Ok….. so I checked it and it's turning into 12k+ words. Went a bit ham, and still going. Might turn it into a Novella. Why do I write so much, ahh. So, I'll be dividing the parts (6 parts). Sorry. Probably, the slowest burn yandere among all my works at the moment.... I think. But, still for me, pretty fast burn romance, because we focus on yandere content. Lol. Also side note, if you like ENTP 7w8 yanderes (e.g. Gojo, Hawks, Dazai, Vanitas, Kuroo)? Well, this one's for you. Made a hardcore ENTP 7w8 yandere this time.

The first time you met him, it was as if the universe had aligned—not in some whimsical, romanticized way, but with the brutal precision of mathematics. A logical equation where X equaled Y. You needed a shield, someone to deflect the probing questions of your overbearing parents and the inevitable parade of suitors they had lined up. He needed a partner who wouldn’t demand too much—someone who understood ambition, who wouldn’t suffocate him with expectations of sweet nothings and fairytales.

It wasn’t love. It was convenience.

You found him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, legs spread wide and a pen dangling between his fingers like a cigarette. There was something insufferable about the way he grinned at you when your eyes met, as if he already knew why you’d approached him. You ignored the flicker of irritation his cocky demeanor ignited within you.

“I have a proposition,” you said, arms crossed and chin high, voice cutting through the low murmur of the room like a blade.

His gaze trailed over you, assessing but not predatory, as if you were a puzzle he was already halfway through solving. He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Do tell, golden girl.”

That nickname—it would become a staple, laced with amusement and, eventually, something sharper, more cutting. But for now, it was just a playful jab.

“I need a boyfriend.”

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the smirk never wavering. “And what makes you think I’m boyfriend material?”

“I don’t,” you replied coolly. “But you’re convenient. Senior year, right? Close to graduating, no time for real commitment. And you seem…” You hesitated, letting your gaze sweep over him pointedly. “…unserious.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few curious glances your way. “Unserious. I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s in it for me?”

“Your parents are investors,” you said, your voice crisp, businesslike. “I’ve seen the sponsorships they’ve secured for student startups. You want their connections, don’t you? Stick with me for the rest of the semester, play the part, and I’ll make sure you have their ear.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to gauge whether you were serious. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back, his grin softening into something that felt almost genuine.

“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as efficient.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

From that moment on, the two of you fell into a rhythm. It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might imagine when they looked at you, the golden child, and him, the sharp-tongued, perpetually smirking senior. You didn’t hold hands unless necessary. You didn’t go on dates unless it served a purpose. He played the charming, doting boyfriend at family dinners, his wit and charisma winning over even your most skeptical relatives.

And you? You became his silent shield at parties, the poised partner who kept the clingy girls at bay and gave his otherwise reckless image a veneer of respectability.

It worked. For a while.

You didn’t notice, at first, the way his gaze lingered too long when you weren’t looking. How he started rearranging his schedule to align with yours, his texts becoming more frequent, more personal. You chalked it up to him playing his role—nothing more, nothing less.

But beneath the surface of your carefully constructed arrangement, something was shifting. Slowly. Inexorably.

And neither of you realized it yet.

────────────

The partnership was a tightrope walk over a chasm, a precarious balance between your structured determination and his reckless improvisation. Where you sought order, he thrived in chaos; where you demanded precision, he operated on instinct. Your interactions were a battlefield of clashing ideologies, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.

You didn’t like him. Not really. And he knew it.

“You’re wound tighter than a noose, golden girl,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair during late-night meetings in the library, a toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth. “Relax. Not everything needs a ten-step plan.”

“And you’re far too comfortable winging it,” you’d retort without looking up from your notes, your pen scratching across the page in rhythmic defiance. “Some of us actually care about results.”

“Results?” He’d laugh, low and mocking, his voice a rasp in the dimly lit room. “You mean the kind your parents can frame and hang on a wall?”

That stung, though you never let it show. You simply straightened your spine, raised your chin, and met his gaze with a glare cold enough to freeze fire.

“Do you even have a plan for your life after graduation?” you shot back, your words slicing through his amusement. “Or are you planning to charm your way through that, too?”

The smirk faltered for just a moment, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. Then it was back, sharper than before. “Why bother with a plan when I’ve got you to micromanage everything?”

It was always like this. Barbs exchanged like gunfire, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But when the conversation shifted to the projects you were working on together—the startup pitch for your entrepreneurship course, the meticulously researched presentations you delivered as a team—something strange happened.

The arguments faded, replaced by an almost eerie synchronization.

“What if we market it as a subscription model?” he’d suggest, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced ahead.

You’d hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek, before nodding slowly. “It could work. If we tie it to a loyalty program—discounts for long-term users.”

“And gamify it,” he’d add, his eyes gleaming with an excitement you rarely saw in him. “Make it addictive. People love chasing badges and achievements. Psychological manipulation at its finest.”

“That’s… a disturbingly good idea,” you admitted, scribbling notes furiously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, though his grin lacked its usual edge. “Even I can be useful.”

For those brief moments, it was as if the constant friction between you two ignited something productive, something almost electric. You hated to admit it, but working with him was exhilarating in a way that was entirely new to you.

And yet, outside of those moments of collaboration, the tension only grew.

You started noticing the little ways he got under your skin: the way he’d leave his half-empty coffee cups on your desk during meetings, forcing you to clean up after him. The way he’d interrupt your carefully rehearsed presentations with off-the-cuff jokes that somehow always landed better than your meticulously prepared slides.

“You’re infuriating,” you snapped one evening, your voice tight with exhaustion as you shoved a pile of his crumpled notes back into his hands. “Do you even take this seriously?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone unusually soft, his gaze steady. “I just don’t take you seriously. Not everything’s a life-or-death scenario, golden girl.”

You hated him. You hated the way he dismissed you, the way he seemed to find amusement in your frustration. But more than that, you hated the way he could turn around and say something so insightful, so perfectly aligned with your own thoughts, that it left you reeling.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this constant push and pull, this battle of wills that neither of you could seem to win.

And though you didn’t know it yet, the cracks were already beginning to form in the walls you’d built around yourself.

────────────

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly what you were: a fortress. Polished stone walls, towering spires, and gates sealed shut with bolts of iron. Your every movement, every word, every carefully measured breath screamed control.

And he? He had never met a fortress he didn’t want to sack.

At first, it was curiosity. A passing interest in the girl who spoke with the precision of a scalpel, who held her chin high as if the weight of the world rested comfortably on her shoulders. He’d seen your type before—sharp, ambitious, ruthless—but there was something different about you.

It was the way your voice never trembled, even when your words cut like glass. The way your eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding, like you were daring him to try something. Anything.

So, he did.

From the very beginning, he made it his mission to chip away at that armor, to find the cracks in your flawless facade.

“Golden girl,” he’d call you, the nickname dripping with mockery. He loved the way your jaw would tighten ever so slightly when he said it, how your fingers would twitch like you wanted to slap the grin off his face but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

He started small—interrupting your meticulously organized schedules with his “spontaneous” detours, leaving his belongings in your space just to watch you bristle. But as the days turned into weeks, his methods grew more deliberate.

“Relax,” he’d say, leaning too close during one of your late-night study sessions, his voice a low murmur that was equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your teeth like that.”

Your response was always the same—a cold, cutting remark delivered in that icy tone of yours, your expression a mask of indifference. But he could see through it. He could see the flicker of irritation in your eyes, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened.

He loved it.

Because while you thought you were unshakable, he knew better. He saw the storm that brewed beneath your surface, the fire you tried so desperately to hide. And nothing thrilled him more than coaxing it out of you, one spark at a time.

One evening, he pushed too far.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” he said, his voice low and mocking as he leaned against the edge of your desk, his presence an unwelcome shadow in the otherwise sterile room.

“Like what?” you asked without looking up, your tone laced with exhaustion and barely concealed annoyance.

“This,” he gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “The arguing, the tension. You get this little spark in your eye when you’re mad, you know. It’s cute.”

That did it. You slammed your pen down with a force that echoed in the silence, your eyes snapping to his with a glare that could have burned through steel.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut.

And yet, even as you said it, he caught the faintest tremor in your voice. Barely noticeable. But to him, it was everything.

He leaned closer, his grin softening into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. “Maybe. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an electricity that neither of you fully understood yet.

It was in those moments, in the way you tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, that he realized he was beginning to crave you. Not just the fire in your eyes or the sharpness of your tongue, but you.

The fortress was starting to crack, and he intended to be there when it fell.

────────────

The cafeteria was alive with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clinking of trays. It was a battlefield of social interaction, chaotic and loud, yet somehow orchestrated, with alliances formed over shared meals and fleeting camaraderie. You didn’t belong here.

You kept your steps measured and precise, your gaze fixed forward, avoiding the swirling mass of humanity around you. People parted instinctively as you walked past, their conversations dimming for just a moment before resuming. Your presence was a ripple in the atmosphere—not disruptive, but enough to remind everyone that you were there.

And then you saw him.

He was in the center of it all, as he always was, the eye of the storm. His laughter carried over the din, rich and unrestrained, a sound that drew people in like moths to a flame. He sat perched on the edge of a table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, spinning some ridiculous story that had everyone around him enraptured.

They hung on his every word, their faces lit with genuine amusement, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He had that rare, inexplicable magnetism, the kind that made people want to be near him, to bask in his energy. He wasn’t just popular—he was adored.

And you?

You were the anomaly. The outlier. People respected you, even feared you, but they didn’t enjoy you. They didn’t invite you to sit at their tables, didn’t seek out your company for anything beyond necessity. You were an island—solitary, unyielding, and self-sufficient.

You didn’t envy him. Not exactly.

But as you stood there, watching him effortlessly weave connections, a quiet thought slipped into your mind like a shadow in the dark: What if you were different?

What if you could be like him, with his easy charm and boundless charisma? What if you could laugh like that, unburdened and free, instead of wearing the cold mask you’d perfected over the years?

The thought lingered for a moment too long, and then you shook it off, burying it deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t have time for such things. You were efficient, logical, focused. Emotions had no place in your life—not since childhood, when you’d learned the hard way that they were a liability.

So you turned away, letting the sound of his laughter fade into the background as you made your way to the meeting room. The sterile, quiet space was more familiar to you than any cafeteria, more comfortable than any crowd.

He was already there when you arrived, sprawled in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his grin as sharp as ever.

“You’re late,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re early,” you replied, your tone neutral, as you set your things down on the table.

“Touché,” he said, watching you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Saw you pass through the cafeteria. Thought you might stop by to say hi.”

“I don’t make detours,” you said curtly, pulling out your laptop and powering it on.

“That much is clear,” he muttered, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The meeting began, the two of you falling into your usual rhythm of sharp exchanges and begrudging collaboration. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny sliver of something stirred—a flicker of awareness, of something you couldn’t quite name, whenever he spoke or laughed.

You told yourself it was nothing.

And for now, you believed it.

────────────

The garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the hum of a barely-functional heater filling the space with a low, constant drone. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered occasionally, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. The boys were sprawled around the billiard table, cheap beers in hand, the air crackling with laughter and banter.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, cue stick in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he lined up his next shot. His movements were lazy, almost careless, but his sharp eyes betrayed the precision in every calculation.

“So,” one of them started, a wiry guy with a perpetual grin that made him look younger than he was. “This new girl of yours… she’s the one keeping you so busy these days?”

Another guy chimed in, his tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Yeah, man, you’ve been skipping out on poker nights. Thought you were allergic to commitment.”

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, as he took his shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, the striped ball sinking neatly into the corner pocket. “Allergic? Please. I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The guys laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, their teasing picking up momentum.

“So what’s her deal, huh?” The wiry one pressed, leaning against his own cue stick. “Rich? Hot? Bet she’s one of those uptight types you love to mess with.”

He straightened, twirling the cue stick between his fingers as he leaned back against the table, his smirk widening. “You could say that. She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” another guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You? Interested in someone? Hell, what’s she got—blackmail material? A hit out on your family?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something sharper, something darker. “She’s just… different. Keeps me on my toes.”

The wiry one snorted. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he shot back, his grin sharp as a blade.

They laughed again, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he took another swig of his beer.

“Come on,” the wiry one said, jabbing his cue stick in his direction. “You’re not seriously into her, are you? Thought you didn’t do serious.”

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly, setting his bottle down with a loud clink. “It’s transactional. Mutual benefit, you know? She gets what she wants; I get what I want. Simple.”

“Sounds like a business deal,” someone muttered.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “Aren’t all relationships?”

The guys laughed again, the conversation shifting to the next round of the game, but his mind lingered on the question.

He wasn’t serious about her. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

And yet, every time he saw her—the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she tried so hard to keep him at a distance—it felt like a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

She was a fortress, and he was a conqueror.

For now, he could laugh, joke, and deflect. But the truth was darker, heavier, lurking in the corners of his mind like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

He lined up his next shot, the sharp crack of the cue ball echoing through the garage.

This wasn’t serious.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

────────────

The room was suffocating, its air thick with the sterile scent of recycled oxygen and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. Papers were scattered across the table like fallen leaves in the aftermath of a storm, their sharp edges curling under the weight of your restless hands. The tension in your shoulders was a tangible thing, coiled tight and ready to snap.

He watched you from across the table, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual ease that set your teeth on edge. You were all sharp lines and rigid control, while he was a picture of unbothered confidence, spinning a pen between his fingers like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on him too.

“You look like hell,” he said finally, his voice low and infuriatingly amused.

You didn’t bother looking up, your focus glued to the screen of your laptop, the keys clicking beneath your fingers with a ferocity that spoke of barely restrained frustration. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze bore into you. “Fine enough to bite my head off if I ask what’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice colder than the sterile glow of the room.

That gave him pause, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d seen you angry before, irritated, exasperated—but this was different. There was something raw in your tone, something brittle and sharp, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fine,” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke only he understood. “You’re so fine you’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes without typing a single word.”

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“Drop it,” you said finally, your tone icy enough to frost the windows.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate. “What’s going on with you, golden girl? Family drama? Business crap? Or is it just me getting under your skin again?”

His teasing grin was met with nothing but silence as you slammed your laptop shut with a force that echoed through the room. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and turned to leave without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Hey,” he called after you, his voice following you like a shadow. “You can’t just walk away from me.”

But you did.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the oppressive stillness of the room.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

He didn’t like this.

Not the way your walls seemed higher than ever, not the way your shoulders trembled just slightly when you thought no one was looking, and certainly not the way his chest tightened at the thought of you breaking under the pressure you refused to share with anyone—not even him.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his jaw a stark contrast to the easy grin he usually wore.

You could try to shut him out, build your walls higher, bury yourself in your icy fortress.

But he’d be damned if he let you freeze him out completely.

────────────

The argument started small—a quiet refusal on your part, your tone clipped and dismissive as always.

“I have work to do,” you’d said, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was an anchor in the rising tide of his persistence.

He didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his voice too light, too casual, the grin on his face sharpening as he loomed over you. “Not today. Today, you’re going out. With me.”

You scoffed, turning your chair away from him in a move that was more defensive than you’d ever admit. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. Go bother someone else.”

“Not happening,” he said, and before you could blink, he was behind you, his shadow engulfing yours. His hand was warm and firm on your shoulder, and when you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how much bigger, stronger, and more stubborn he was.

“Let go,” you hissed, twisting in your chair to glare up at him, your voice venomous and cold.

Instead of answering, he bent down, his grin infuriatingly smug as he hooked an arm around your waist in one fluid motion.

“Don’t you dare—”

Your words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he hoisted you up with ease, your stomach flipping as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Relax,” he said, his tone still maddeningly cheerful as he adjusted his hold on you. “You’re overdue for some fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Put me down!” you snapped, your fists pounding against his back, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Not until you promise to stop being such a workaholic,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

The sound of your struggles echoed through the hallway as he carried you out, your threats growing more creative with every step. But he didn’t falter, didn’t even seem fazed, his grip on you secure as if your thrashing was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

When he finally set you down, it was with the kind of exaggerated care that only added insult to injury. You found yourself standing in the middle of an amusement park, the air thick with the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the distant hum of roller coasters roaring above the sea of colorful lights.

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice tight with irritation as you glared up at him, your arms crossed defensively.

“A date,” he said simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “You’ve never been to an amusement park, right? Figured it was time to fix that.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for—”

He cut you off with a sigh, his hand ruffling his hair in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Work, work, work. But you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy it. Who knows? You might actually have fun for once.”

You stared at him, your mind racing for a retort, but the sound of children laughing and the sight of the spinning lights around you left you momentarily disarmed.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice begrudging and low. “But don’t think this means anything.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he held out a hand toward you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, golden girl.”

You didn’t take his hand, of course. But you didn’t walk away, either.

────────────

The amusement park was loud—a riot of color, noise, and movement that grated against your carefully constructed barriers. You were used to silence, to the sterile calm of office rooms and library corners. This place was chaos incarnate, a swirling mass of laughter, screams, and the clatter of machinery that felt like it could grind your composure to dust.

And he loved every second of it.

“Come on,” he said, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled you further into the fray. His grip was warm, insistent, and utterly unyielding, a stark contrast to the chill of your reluctance.

“This is unnecessary,” you muttered, your voice clipped as you tried to keep up with his long strides. “We’re wasting time.”

“You mean you’re wasting time,” he shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that was equal parts teasing and determined. “Me? I’m having a blast.”

You tried to tug your hand free, but his grip only tightened, his strength a quiet reminder of the power imbalance you hated acknowledging.

“Let go,” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, pulling you closer until your shoulder bumped against his. “Boyfriend privilege. Now stop sulking and try to look like you’re having fun.”

Before you could argue, he steered you toward a brightly lit stand selling oversized stuffed animals and cheap prizes. The attendant handed him a small air rifle with a grin, and he lined up his shot with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’re kidding,” you said flatly, watching as he aimed at the array of moving targets.

“Don’t underestimate me, golden girl,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and a tin can toppled off its perch. He turned to you with a triumphant grin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as he handed the attendant a crumpled bill for another round. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is fun,” he corrected, his eyes narrowing in playful focus as he took another shot. Another can fell, and the attendant handed him a large, garish stuffed cat. He turned and thrust it toward you with a flourish.

“Here. For you.”

You stared at the stuffed cat, its glassy eyes staring back at you with an absurdly cheerful expression. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” he said, pressing it into your arms. “Consider it a reminder to loosen up once in a while.”

You glared at him, but the faintest flicker of warmth crept into your chest, uninvited and unwelcome. He caught the twitch of your lips and grinned wider, his satisfaction practically radiating off him.

────────────

The roller coaster clattered upward, its chain mechanisms grinding with a metallic groan that reverberated through the skeleton of the ride. Each tick of the ascent was a promise, a prelude to chaos as the world below shrank into a mosaic of glittering lights and blurred figures. Beside you, he was practically vibrating with excitement, his grin a wolfish slash of white against the neon glow.

“You nervous yet?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the mechanical din.

“No,” you replied flatly, your tone as unflinching as your posture. Your hands were clasped loosely in your lap, your expression an unmoving mask of calm.

He huffed, his grin faltering into something more incredulous. “Seriously? You’re not even a little scared?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The drop came suddenly—a violent plunge that pulled the breath from everyone around you, their screams mingling with the wind's roar. The car tilted, twisted, hurtled through the loops and spirals with bone-rattling speed.

And you didn’t flinch.

When the ride screeched to a halt, his hair was wild, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to you, fully expecting to see some crack in your armor—a flicker of unease, a faint trace of thrill.

But you were already unclasping your seatbelt, your face a portrait of indifferent calm.

“Wow,” he said, dragging the word out as he climbed out of the car behind you. “Not even a scream? Not even a little ‘oh no, I’m gonna die!’?”

“It was fine,” you said, brushing invisible dust from your jacket as if the entire experience had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Fine,” he repeated, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “It’s a death machine on rails, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the next ride. “What’s next?”

He stared at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement flashing in his eyes before his grin returned with a vengeance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

———

The next stop was a haunted house. The entrance was cloaked in fog, its jagged letters dripping with artificial blood as distorted moans and sinister whispers spilled from within.

“This,” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the dark maw of the attraction, “is where you’re finally gonna break.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, the darkness swallowing you both. Animatronic ghouls lunged from the shadows, their plastic claws snapping inches from your face. A specter floated above you, its hollow eyes glowing red as it let out a guttural scream.

But you didn’t flinch.

By the time you emerged on the other side, his grin had soured into a frustrated scowl. “You’re kidding me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing? Not even a ‘holy crap, that’s creepy’?”

“They tried too hard,” you replied evenly. “The suspense was predictable.”

“You’re a robot,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “An actual, emotionless robot.”

———

At the dart-throwing booth, he claimed he’d win you another stuffed animal to add to the growing collection he’d forced on you throughout the night. The attendant handed him a set of darts, and he aimed with exaggerated focus, his tongue poking out slightly in mock determination.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, your expression as neutral as ever.

“Bet I can hit all three bullseyes,” he said, tossing a dart into the air and catching it with a flourish. “And if I do, you have to smile. Deal?”

“I’m not making that deal,” you replied, your voice as dry as the desert air.

“Scared I’ll win?” he teased, launching the first dart. It missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Not particularly,” you said, watching as he threw the second dart, this one landing even farther from the center.

By the third throw, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up as the dart barely grazed the edge of the target. “Okay, maybe I’m a little rusty,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at this,” you said, your tone cool but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement.

He turned to you, his grin returning full force. “There it is! A hint of a smirk! I knew you had emotions buried under all that ice.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the next attraction. He followed, his steps quick and eager, like a hunter who’d finally glimpsed their prey.

The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more dragging you to rides you didn’t care for, and more attempts to crack your facade. By the end of it, he was exhausted but victorious, a spring in his step as he carried yet another oversized stuffed animal under his arm.

“You had fun,” he declared as you walked toward the exit.

“You’re delusional,” you replied, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer, his grin practically glowing in the dark. “You loved it.”

You didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward—a flicker of something you didn’t even recognize as a smile.

And that was enough for him.

────────────

The Ferris wheel loomed above like a spinning constellation, its skeletal frame outlined in garish neon light that flickered against the starless sky. You were already seated, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward as the car rocked gently in the breeze. He slid in beside you, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline trailing in his wake, and the metal bar clamped down with an ominous click, locking the two of you in place.

“Relax,” he said, his voice a shade softer than usual, though still laced with that persistent edge of mischief. “This is the best part of the night. Views like this? They don’t come often.”

You didn’t respond. The city below unfolded in a sea of chaotic lights, each one a reminder of the noise you’d been forced into. A quiet hum of tension coiled in your chest, a restless ache that he seemed to notice, though you wished he wouldn’t.

The wheel began to ascend, the creak of its movement loud in the silence between you. His gaze flicked from the cityscape to you, studying the profile of your face as though trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

“You know,” he began, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re really bad at this whole ‘fun’ thing.”

“I’m aware,” you said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

“You’re supposed to be amazed by the view,” he teased, gesturing toward the glittering expanse below. “You know, lean in a little, say something like, ‘Oh wow, it’s so beautiful.’”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?” you asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“No,” he admitted, his grin lopsided and warm in a way that caught you off guard. “But it’d be nice to see you try.”

The Ferris wheel stopped suddenly, your car swaying slightly as it perched at the very top. He looked out over the city, his grin fading into something quieter, something uncharacteristically reflective.

“Pretty high up, huh?” he said, more to himself than to you.

You followed his gaze, the city spread out like a map, its lights blurred and distant. The air up here felt thinner, cleaner, as though you’d left the chaos below and entered some liminal space where nothing could reach you.

And then he looked back at you.

———

For the first time in a long time, the constant noise in his head—the laughter, the jokes, the relentless chatter that kept the silence at bay—dimmed into something else. Something quieter. Something unsettling. He wasn’t used to this kind of stillness, this kind of weight pressing against the walls of his ribcage.

You didn’t notice, of course. Your gaze was fixed on the view, your profile illuminated by the cold, artificial light of the Ferris wheel’s cabin. To anyone else, you might’ve seemed serene, but he knew better. There was tension in the set of your jaw, in the way your fingers gripped the edge of the seat as though you needed to hold onto something to keep from slipping away entirely.

He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that, for once, his usual shield of irreverence and detachment wasn’t enough to keep this gnawing feeling at bay.

It wasn’t love—not the dizzying, saccharine thing he’d seen in movies or read about in books. It was something darker, sharper, as though you were a shard of glass lodged under his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from turning you over in his mind, dissecting every detail, every flaw, every crack in your otherwise impenetrable armor.

You were fascinating in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

His hand twitched on the seat between you, the urge to reach out almost unbearable. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. The thought of touching you—of closing that impossible distance—was terrifying in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear of rejection; he could handle that. It was something else, something far more primal.

Because if he touched you, if he broke through that careful veneer of professionalism and indifference, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the view. “What what’s like?”

“To feel alive,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t respond.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt something. Something real.

And it unsettled him.

———

“I don’t get you,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re impossible to crack, and for some reason, I can’t stop trying.”

You raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

The silence between you two was a taut string, stretched so thin it felt as if the smallest sound might snap it. Outside the cabin, the Ferris wheel creaked as it swayed gently, the city sprawled below like a graveyard of flickering lights. Inside, the air felt heavier, dense with something intangible and electric that neither of you dared to name.

He shifted closer, so subtly that you didn’t notice at first. The slight groan of the seat’s weight-bearing joints was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat, a rhythm he suddenly couldn’t ignore. His arm rested casually against the back of the seat, but his entire body was taut, every muscle coiled as if anticipating some unspoken impact.

His gaze drifted to you, no longer playful or teasing but something else—something raw, a little desperate, and utterly unfamiliar to him. He could see the faint outline of your lashes against your cheek, the soft curve of your lips as your expression remained distant, detached.

And yet, to him, you were a storm barely contained, your quietness thrumming with an energy he could feel in his bones.

He didn’t notice the way his own breathing had shifted, deeper now, as if his body were bracing for something he couldn’t quite define. His eyes flicked downward—just a moment, a heartbeat—and caught on the soft shape of your mouth. It wasn’t intentional, but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the tight confines of the cabin.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering like an engine choking on its own fuel. He barely recognized the sound coming out of his mouth, stripped of its usual bravado and swagger.

He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve cracked a joke or leaned back with that cocky grin that had always been his armor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His hand lifted almost on its own, shaking slightly as it reached toward your face. The tips of his fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that felt alien to him. It was clumsy, hesitant—nothing like the smooth confidence he usually exuded.

The heat radiating from you was intoxicating, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. His breath hitched as he leaned in, so slowly it felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. The usual whirlwind of his mind—sharp, quick, always moving—had stilled completely.

All he could focus on was you.

The curve of your lips. The faint rise and fall of your chest. The way you still hadn’t looked at him, so lost in your own world that you hadn’t yet noticed the dangerous proximity between you.

His breath mingled with yours now, warm and unsteady, as his lips hovered just a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes half-closed, the edges of his vision blurring as every instinct in him screamed to close the gap.

And then—

Your eyes snapped to his, sharp and unyielding like a blade cutting through fog.

It hit you like a jolt of electricity, the realization of just how close he was, how dangerously near his lips hovered to yours.

But it hit him harder.

The sharpness in your gaze was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the fire he hadn’t even realized had been consuming him.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he froze in place. He looked at you—not just at you, but into you—as though seeing something he hadn’t been prepared for.

And for the first time in his life, he felt utterly and completely exposed.

———

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, as though he’d swallowed gravel. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

You stiffened, your brows knitting together in a glare that could have frozen the sun. “That’s none of your concern.”

He laughed softly, the sound devoid of its usual bravado. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. I’m your boyfriend, remember?” His voice dipped into that familiar, playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it now—a hunger, a yearning he didn’t fully understand.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you didn’t pull away. Not yet. That tiny sliver of hope spurred him on, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought in his head.

“I bet no one’s dared,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as his thumb traced slow circles against your jaw. “You’re too intimidating. Too untouchable.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “But not to me.”

And then, he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a calculated move, nor was it born of confidence. It was instinctive, driven by a force he couldn’t name. His lips brushed yours, tentative and hesitant, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch.

For a fraction of a second, everything else fell away—the city lights, the Ferris wheel, the constant cacophony of his mind. All that existed was you, the impossible warmth of you, and the way your lips were softer than he’d dared imagine—

And then, the world snapped back into focus.

Your palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap that echoed through the tiny cabin. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his lips tingling from the abrupt end of the kiss.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before his signature grin broke across his face. His cheek was already reddening, and he rubbed it with a dramatic wince, leaning back in his seat as though to put some distance between you.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Ice queen stays frosty. My bad for trying to thaw you out a little.”

His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something raw and uncertain that he buried as quickly as it surfaced.

You glared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “This is a transactional relationship. Don’t forget that.”

“Transaction noted,” he quipped, the grin never leaving his face. “But for the record? That slap was totally worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch, and turned your attention back to the window.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

As he rubbed his sore cheek, his grin softened into something quieter, something closer to a smile. He didn’t fully understand what had compelled him to kiss you, nor did he understand why your rejection didn’t sting the way it should have.

All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to try again.

———

“Did you think that was going to work?” you interrupted, your tone sharp enough to cut steel.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as the initial shock melted into something more familiar: that damn grin. “Wow, okay. I go for one kiss—one—and you act like I tried to steal your soul.”

“You did try to steal something,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “My patience.”

“That’s already gone,” he countered, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You can’t slap me twice for the same crime.”

“Try me,” you said, your glare unwavering.

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he rubbed his cheek. “Man, you’re vicious. It’s kind of hot.”

────────────

He watched as you rubbed your sleeve across your mouth, your motions brisk and unrelenting, as though scrubbing the very memory of him off your skin. His grin faltered for just a second, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. Of course, you weren’t—you never were. Your focus was singular, your eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line as though he’d just committed a cardinal sin.

It stung more than he cared to admit. Not that he’d let you see it. No, no. His ego may have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to lick his wounds in front of you. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed over his chest as though your rejection had physically pierced him.

“Wow,” he drawled, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. “I didn’t realize my kiss was that traumatic. Should I be offended or impressed by your dedication to erasure?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it only fueled the smirk crawling back onto his face.

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring the icy tension radiating off you. “I’ve seen people wipe ketchup off their mouths with less vigor. I mean, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You didn’t respond, too busy swiping at your lips like a woman possessed, as though the mere memory of his touch was a poison you needed to purge.

He leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening to a dangerous edge. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna scrub your skin raw. And here I thought I was the one who left a mark.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, your tone colder than the winter wind.

“Oh, but it’s so easy when you’re this much fun.” He rested his chin in his palm, his grin widening as he studied you like you were his favorite puzzle. “Though I gotta say, you’re hurting my feelings here. Most girls would be swooning right about now. But you?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Stone cold. A real ice queen through and through.”

“Good,” you bit back, finally lowering your sleeve. “Maybe you’ll think twice before pulling another stunt like that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was a flicker of something more behind it—something softer, unspoken. “You think I’m gonna stop? Not a chance. You’re way too fun to mess with.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the window. “Whatever. Just…keep your distance.”

“Sure thing, princess.” His voice dipped into a mock-serious tone, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “But don’t blame me when you start dreaming about it later. They say first kisses are unforgettable, after all.”

Your hand twitched like you were debating whether or not to slap him again, but you refrained, choosing instead to glare daggers at the glass.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum, crossing his arms as his grin softened into something quieter, something almost contemplative.

You might have been disgusted, but at least you weren’t indifferent. That thought alone was enough to keep his grin intact.

———

The cabin settled into a tense quiet, broken only by the faint creaks of the Ferris wheel as it descended. You’d stopped scrubbing at your lips, though the memory of his clumsy attempt lingered, palpable and unwelcome. With a slow, deliberate breath, you turned your focus outward, toward the sprawling view of the amusement park bathed in fractured, golden light.

“I’ll have you know,” you said softly, your voice sharp yet devoid of its earlier venom, “that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The words were like a scalpel, slicing clean and deep, leaving behind a sting that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t show it. He never did.

Instead, he let out a short laugh, tilting his head as though brushing off your statement with his usual flippancy. “Well, color me surprised,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock astonishment. “The ice queen has a romantic history. Who’d have thought?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. The apathy in your gaze was unyielding, and that, more than your words, struck a chord he couldn’t name.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless, the smirk on his face becoming harder to maintain. Something stirred beneath his practiced exterior, an unfamiliar heat that crawled up his spine and settled, uncomfortably, in his chest.

Why did it matter?

He leaned back, forcing a casual posture, though the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good for you,” he said, a little too quickly, a little too brightly. “Guess I can’t claim to be your first, huh?”

There it was again, that strange burning sensation. It twisted and coiled, feeding on itself, until it became something dark and unrelenting. He told himself it was nothing—just his ego stinging from your rejection. But deep down, in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

You tilted your head slightly, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the park below. “It wasn’t anything special,” you said, your tone devoid of emotion. “Just another transaction.”

Another transaction.

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

He laughed again, louder this time, but the sound rang hollow in his own ears. “Figures,” he said, his voice pitched light and teasing, masking the weight behind the words. “Trust you to make even romance sound like a business deal.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched, and for a moment, he thought you might say something else. Instead, you turned back to the window, your posture relaxed but distant, like the space between you was a chasm neither of you could—or would—cross.

His gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way the faint light cast shadows across your face. That burning sensation flared again, sharp and insistent, as though it were trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He didn’t understand it—this sudden, inexplicable need to prove himself to you, to earn something that no transaction could buy. It gnawed at him, a quiet fury that wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

For the first time in his life, he felt unsteady, uncertain, as though the foundation he’d built himself on was beginning to crack.

And he hated it.

“Must’ve been a hell of a boring kiss,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bet I could’ve done better.”

You snorted softly, but didn’t take the bait.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as the Ferris wheel continued its slow descent.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like laughing.

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring

[witherby]

I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

[aplaceforhumancorpses]

⋆˚࿔ Soft little Christmas Lights 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

╭✦ ︶꒷꒦・⎯⎯・⎯⎯・ ♡ˎˊ˗ ┇🎀・ ˎGenre: Fluffy Smut ┇🎀・ ˎWarnings: Smut in general, but it's super sweet ┇🎀・ ˎJason Todd x Female reader. ┇🎀・ ˎSummary: Christmas eve always leaves Jason alone in the living room whilst you wrap up presents, and he's only a man. He's getting needy. ┇🎀・ ˎREQUEST!! I can not say this enough!!

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Happy holidays! Enjoy this early gift.

There was something so distinctly you about forcing him out of his own bedroom in your shared apartment. Yes, you had to wrap his gifts. Yes, you could have done it during one of the many nights he was shadowing over Gotham. But instead, you had forced him to sit in the living room, picking at a tray of cookies that vaguely resembled Santa and Christmas wreaths. Although they were a bit gooey in the center, they were warm and soft—his only entertainment out here while he waited for you to call him back to bed so he could reclaim his spot and pass out halfway on top of you. Just like he did every night.

It would take an hour of watching Netflix and then another hour of doing nothing before his brain shut off altogether out here. He would have much preferred trench warfare rather than being stuck out here waiting for you. However, you’d told him to be patient.

In his mind, that might have meant there was a reward for him in the end. He was like a domesticated dog waiting around for scraps—kisses, hugs, or that time of night when you would rub his shoulders and chest with that particular combination of soft but firm pressing from your fingertips. So, when he heard the click from the bedroom door, he perked up and hopped to his feet to get ready to crash into bed head first. When you appeared, he almost tripped in excitement. It wouldn't be the first time he fell to his knees for you.

But, he stopped himself just short of knocking you over as he rushed to you. All 6 feet of him, muscular, heavy and built like some twisted kind of a god. You were wearing lingerie. The fancy kind. "Baby- Whats all this--…"

"Just a little something I bought when you were away on 'busniess.'"

Delicate ribbons placed on the the plush of your hips, sequins shimmering softly. Tiny little slits revealed glimpses of your curves, intricate lacy designs that clung lovingly to your body.

His gaze traveled lower, drawn irresistibly to those thigh garters that hugged your skin… They seemed to tease him. The playful window that exposed your stomach, a small valley that led all the way to your navel. That space would soon be filled his large hands. If only the rest of you was as accommodating to his size. He placed a hand on his hip.

"You didn't have to kick me out to put all this on. I would've liked to watch." His grin turned mischievous. “Do I have to wait to open this one till tommorow too?" Your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "No, baby, we can-" He cut you off by throwing you over his shoulder. Stomach flat against his broad back, legs wrapped gripped tightly in his arms as he moved his hand up to lovingly pat your butt. Your face burned further.

The two of you made the journey to the bedroom without a word spoken. Once he laid you down in bed, you tugged at his shirt. With an eager smile, he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside before crawling in beside you. As his arms curled around your waist, his lips nuzzled against your jaw, breath ghosting across your skin before he whispered, "I really missed you tonight."

"It was 30 minutes hun." A sigh escaped your throat. His fingers trailed slowly along the line of your waistline before settling under the hem of your panties. He dragged them down to your thighs, pulling them down further so their thin fabric pooled around your ankles. Then the kisses continued, each brush of lips sending tingles through your body like static electricity.

He lifted a leg, pushing you up slightly with his force. Your lower back felt cold and bare. He pressed a kiss between your shoulder and neck, trailing light kisses down towards your chest as his thumb traced patterns into the skin over your breastbone.

"Oh yeah, I really missed you…" His voice was husky. "So fucking much…" His other arm wound around your back, lifting your bottom so his mouth could find your lower one. He moaned against you before pulling away briefly, sucking in a quick breath through his teeth as his fingers fumbled to pull his pants down. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. A shudder ran through his body before he slid his hand inside the elastic band of his underwear. Pulling his cock free. It slapped against the skin below your belly button wetly.

He looked up from his task momentarily to gaze thoughtfully into your eyes, pupils blown wide like the eyes of a chinchilla. You tried to return his expression. A gentle smile curved your lips. His lips twitched up into a grin and he laughed softly to himself, amused at how soft he had gotten these days. How vulnerable and easily charmed he'd become. How far gone he was…

He smiled down at you. "You.. um.. ready?-" He was being all shy now. Maybe it was the spell that you seemed to put on him whenever he was in your presence. Or maybe it was simply how utterly happy you made him that he felt such hesitation. He wasn't used to it—you weren't going to hurt him, abandon him, or replace him.

He was safe. Secure. And loved.

And maybe thats when fucking you oh so raveneously turning to making love to you.

He locked your legs in place atop his shoulders, holding you firmly against his cock while you squirmed underneath trying to get into a comfortable position. One of his hands found yours and he threaded your fingers together as he positioned himself. You could feel the tension in his muscles as they stretched to accommodate your smaller size. Then, he began slowly, easing into you with care. His tip grazing by past your folds and planting itself inside. He stayed like that for a short time, wanting to bask in the warm exuberation of you and your body. He held still until he could feel your fingers press into the back of his hand, impatience. He began moving slowly, not rushing it, not taking it too quickly. Instead, he held onto that perfect moment as best he could while you took the first few thrusts. He hated to overwhelm or startle you. He understood you were smaller than him and he didn't want to cause any unnecessary stress. But, hisbody was so demanding. He pushed himself deeper by an inch. "Mh…" His throat rumbled. "God," he panted out, his fingers curling tighter around yours. "Fuck, that feels so good." He closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh of relief. "That's good," he groaned, feeling as if he had spent too long without being inside of you like this. You gave a little cry as he hit a particularly tender part of you and he slowed again, allowing you time to adjust before pushing back in hard enough that it brought tears to your eyes. He wanted you to know how much he enjoyed this. How he truly adored you. He'd been alone for so long that finding someone that loved him in return felt like a miracle. He needed to savour everything you gave him. Every second. Because you deserved it.

His lips followed the outline of your shoulder, kissing the tender flesh lightly as he pumped into you harder. He couldn't get close enough, couldn't give you the pleasure he craved because his body wouldn't allow him to phase into your soul and live inside of it for the rest of his existence. He groaned. "God, can't ever last more then 7 minutes with you baby… making me look like a teenager." He laughed at his own humor, before cutting himself off with a low whine. He could hardly keep his head above water and yet the idea of you and him going 5 more rounds after this seemed like the only right course of action.

One last, deep plunge of his shaft, before you were both crying out. His eyes opened to meet yours. Their color dark with lust. His brow furrowed with concern. "Did I hurt you baby? That was a little harsh- m' sorry…" he mumbled anxiously, his hands cupping your hips gently. "You okay?"

Your hand reached up to grasp at his cheek. He leaned into your touch. A shaky laugh left your lips. "You didn't hurt me babe," you reassured him with a smile. Then, his mouth was against yours. ---------------------------------------- Reblog if you enjoyed!

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, smut mndi, chronic pain mention, I always feel like my confessions are awk so sorry if you think this one is too

note for minors: a lot of this chapter is smut, but you can read up until the red line without worrying about it. There's no summary this time because it really is just smut for smut's sake and all the character development happens before it starts, so you won't need it for the plot. There is one vague mention of boners before the red line (sorry it's just for a laugh), but that's it

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

You catch on quickly to what’s happened between Sirius and Remus. What you don’t understand is why they’ve interrupted it to come talk to you. And how you could be wrong twice—do they cancel out if you were truly right the first time? 

Clearly, the chemistry you’d felt between Remus and Sirius wasn’t imagined. You’d convinced yourself you must’ve gotten your wires crossed—otherwise why would Remus have kissed you?—but evidently they’ve come to some sort of agreement. Are they here to ask for your permission? Intra-team fornicating: approved. 

You’re not sure if you wish they’d waited until they were less hard to pop by. 

“Um.” You keep your eyes very intentionally on the boys’ faces. “What’s up?” 

Sirius looks almost nervous, skittish even, but Remus’ hand wraps around his to pull him closer to your doorway. Your heart does something funny in your chest. 

“Could we talk?” Sirius asks. 

“Er…yeah. Of course.” You step aside, letting them into your small room. Remus sits politely on the edge of your bed, giving you deja vu from the night before, while Sirius makes himself comfortable further back. He leans his side into your pillow where it’s propped up on the wall. 

“We were talking,” starts Remus, “and I told Sirius about what happened between us.” 

Your next breath seems to come slower. Unwillingly, your gaze flits to Sirius, but he looks impassive, only like he might be scrutinizing you in turn. You look back at Remus. “You did?” 

“I did,” he says gently. “But it wasn’t—” 

“Babe,” Sirius interrupts, “don’t look so freaked. What’s the matter? And why are you still standing there?” 

You realize you’re hugging yourself around your middle, standing awkwardly in front of the bed. “I’m not sure it’s meant to hold three people,” you say weakly. 

Sirius snorts, whatever nervousness he’d arrived with vanishing. Sirius has always been good this way; he can only ever panic when no one else is, but the second you’re panicking too he’s all ease. 

“Don’t be silly.” He pats the space between himself and Remus. It’s as ample as the bed allows, which isn’t saying much. “It’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s your bed.” 

You can’t think of a good reason to argue. Something in you calms as you settle in between them, Sirius’ hip touching yours and the warmth of Remus’ body on your other side. It’s familiar, safe. 

“Are you upset?” you ask Sirius. 

His brows pinch. “Why would I be?” 

“Because…” You cringe. “Aren’t you two…?”

“There’s been a lot of confusion, I think,” Remus says kindly. “But when we were talking, we both sort of came to the realization that we fancy each other…and you.” 

There’s a dense pause. 

“And me?” you echo. 

Remus’ lips tilt slightly. “Yes.” 

“As in…” You rub your eyes, dumbfounded. “Sorry, I did just wake up.” 

Sirius laughs. Remus too, reaching over to rub your knee like he can’t help himself. 

“For the record, I didn’t plan any of this,” says Sirius, “but if I had, I’d have done it exactly this way. It’s very gratifying to finally disturb your sleep schedules the way you pricks have been doing to me all these weeks.” 

“Oi,” Remus chides teasingly, reaching over you to push at Sirius’ thigh. You marvel at this new easiness between them, now given even newer context. “Anyway, we thought we’d come see if you might be interested.” 

“In…you.” You rub your lips together, looking between them and noticing Sirius’ gaze has fallen to your mouth. Unless you’re terribly mistaken and you’ve got it all wrong, this means he fancies you as well. Your partner, your best friend. 

The idea isn’t as upsetting as it ought to be. 

Do you fancy him too? You’ve never thought about Sirius in that way. You love him, of course, but you’ve never taken the time to parse out if it might be a different sort of love than the kind between friends. And as for the rest—well, who wouldn’t be attracted to Sirius? You’re only human. 

“In both of us, yes,” Remus confirms patiently. 

“Is that something you’d be into?” Sirius asks. 

Your answer leaves you on a breath, thoughtless but true. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius grins. 

You nod. You’re suddenly fixated by the way his cupid’s bow flattens out when he smiles like that. It’s something you’ve noticed a thousand times before, but now…

“Yeah,” you say again. “Um…what do we do?” 

Remus chuckles. “I don’t really know. I’ve not been with two people before.” 

“Believe it or not, this is a first for me as well,” Sirius says lightly. 

“Right,” you laugh. It breaks up some of the apprehension in your chest. 

“If you want to,” Remus’ voice softens, “I suppose you could start by kissing him.” 

You look at him, then at Sirius. For the first time, something like insecurity flashes across his face. 

“You don’t have to,” he says quietly. No longer the brazen flirt, but the kind, considerate boy you know. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply. 

It’s like he’s afraid to touch you until you get to him. You steady yourself with a hand on his jaw, your other pressing into the mattress as you lean towards where he’s reclined against your pillow and bring your lips to his. 

You know all the ways that Sirius moves, and even this new, completely uncharted part of him is consistent. Sirius’ kisses start out slow, probing, feeling out what you like and what he can do, but then he gives himself over to it. His hands find first your hips, urging you closer to him before one slides to the small of your back. Greedy fingers curl in the fabric of your pajama top. 

You make a small, accidental sound in the back of your throat when his teeth tease your bottom lip, and Sirius pulls away. You’re both breathing hard. 

Sirius stares at you for a weighted moment before his eyes drift behind you and he huffs out a laugh. “Enjoyed that, did you?” 

You look over your shoulder, and Remus is watching you both with a low flame burning in his gaze. He flushes a tad at the question but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward, kissing you, tasting Sirius on your lips. 

───────────────────────────────────────────

The three of you don’t need to speak much to communicate. Remus pulls you back into him, his length hardening against your ass, and Sirius follows. He kisses Remus over your shoulder with a relieved sort of sigh. All the while, his hands are roving your thighs, pushing up your pajama shorts until they crease and pinch at your crotch. 

You exhale and tilt your head to the side when Remus drops his lips to your neck. “We have a competition tomorrow,” you remind them both. “We ought to be resting up.” 

You feel Sirius’ grin as he brings his mouth to yours again. “Yup.” He nips your bottom lip. “I’m aware this is a bad idea.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t condone it,” Remus agrees, one hand covering your ribs while the other sneaks down to tease the waist of your pajama shorts.Your poor shorts are being attacked from both sides. “How far do you want to go?” 

Sirius pulls his lips from yours to watch you think. They still tingle, and you rub them together unconsciously. His eyes darken. 

“You drive me mad when you do that,” he says. 

“Do what?” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pressing down on it gently. His own lips are swollen and gleaming prettily with spit, eyes nearly all pupil. Remus’ hand strokes lazily at your side. 

“I want to go as far as you guys want to,” you say without breaking Sirius’ gaze. 

His grin widens, and he looks at Remus, shrugging. “We could just go until somebody says stop.” 

“Alright,” says Remus. One of his hands leaves you, finger hooking in the waist of Sirius’ trousers. “Can we take these off, then?” 

Sirius isn’t shy, but you didn’t think he would be. He sits up on his knees and pulls them down, letting Remus help them over his ankles before they’re discarded in a heap on the floor. Remus gets rid of his too, and then you’re staring at the outlines of both boys through the far thinner material of their underwear. 

Remus ghosts a touch over Sirius’ cock, making the other boy’s expression pinch with want, before pulling down the waistband. Lithe, graceful muscles and hip bones curving inwards. Sirius curses as Remus’ long fingers wrap around him. 

Remus pumps slowly, his own arousal an insistent heat at your hip. You find your attention torn between the feeling of his body against your backside and the sultry droop of Sirius’ eyelids as he watches Remus work his cock. 

“Doesn’t he look pretty?” Remus murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s speaking to you. “Yeah.” Your mouth feels dry. You swallow, and watch as Sirius’ eyes flit up to the motion. “He always does.” 

Remus hums in agreement, pressing a light kiss to an exposed bit of skin beside the neckline of your top. “Do you want to try, lovely?” 

You turn your head to look at him. Remus’ eyes are glued to Sirius. “What about you?” 

A chuckle, and another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll be alright.” 

Remus waits until your hand is around Sirius’ shaft, pumping a couple times against his own fist, before letting go. You choose a slightly less languid pace than Remus had. Sirius twitches in your grasp, taking your face in his hands and setting his lips to yours with a muffled groan. 

Behind you, Remus moves closer until his length is pressed against your ass. One of his hands steadies you by the hip while the other dips below the waistband of your shorts, palming you through your underwear. You shift, and he hisses when you move against him. 

You turn your head on instinct, Sirius’ lips smudging across your cheek. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is breathy, amused. “You just surprised me.” 

“What’d she do?” Sirius is never one to be left out of the loop. 

“Just backed into me.” 

“Oh. Gorgeous,” he smiles, turning you by the chin to capture your lips again, “who wouldn’t want that?” 

Their praise soon has you devolving into a thoughtless, sensory creature. Sirius’ hands caress your face and neck and Remus’ fingers brush your panties aside to toy with your cunt. Every movement of your hips makes him push more insistently against you. Your shirt comes off, Remus dotting your shoulders with sweet kisses. Your grip tightens on Sirius’ cock, and a low, needy sound tears out of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.” 

Your heart flutters at the endearment, but you don’t let your movements stall. Soon he’s pushing his hips into your hand, kisses turning messy and desperate, your own sounds harder to suppress as Remus bullies your clit with two fingers. You’re glad to know at least Sirius’ room is empty on your other side, because you’re beginning to wonder how thick these walls are. Remus pushes his length into the crease between your asscheeks through your shorts, Sirius’ cock beginning to twitch in your hand, and you press your lips together to contain a sound that promises to be both loud and mortifying—and the bed collapses. 

You fall backwards onto Remus as the cardboard on his end gives out, sending all three of you to the floor. Sirius’ teeth knock into yours and Remus catches you around the waist with both hands, keeping you from fully sitting on his hard cock. 

“Fuck.” Sirius brings a hand to his mouth. “What the fuck?” 

“Oh, shit.” You scramble away from Remus, onto the floor. Both boys look at you in alarm. You’re looking to where Remus’ leg is bent underneath him, not at a terribly cruel angle, but still— “Your hip. Is your hip okay?” 

“Oh.” Remus glances down as though he’s forgotten it himself, realization dawning over his features. 

“Fuck,” Sirius breaths, remembering as well. His hand moves toward Remus but lingers in the air, afraid of hurting him. 

“It’s…yeah, it’s okay,” says Remus. His eyes meet yours. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Sirius’ brows pinch, but his hand makes it the rest of the way, rubbing tentatively over Remus’ hip joint. “Are you sure?” 

Remus shifts slowly, sitting up off his knees to move closer to Sirius. “I’m sure.” A little smile graces his lips. “You worried about me, Pads?” 

Sirius’ face splits in the sort of grin you can only ever surprise out of him. “Fuck off,” he laughs, pushing Remus away when he tries to kiss him. Remus catches Sirius’ hands, his own smile unfurling slowly, almost unwillingly. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How sweet,” he hums, smug. 

You find yourself smiling at them both, your heart a balloon in your chest. 

“Okay.” You give the mattress a little tug. “In that case, could you guys get off?”

“What’re you doing?” Remus asks. Both he and Sirius move. 

“Having this on a slant doesn’t seem like a good idea, so I’m moving it.” 

It should be awkward, this break in the tension, but maybe it’s because you’re so used to working as a team that it isn’t. You all get the mattress situated on the floor, and then you’re dragging Remus’ underwear off, his hands moving kind and doting over the lengths of your arms. He inhales a small breath as Sirius takes his cock into his mouth. 

You watch Sirius’ lips move up and down his shaft, his eyes dark and growing shiny as he takes Remus as far as he can. You aren’t quite sure how to contribute, but when you rub the inside of Sirius’ thigh tentatively both boys moan. You take that to mean you’re on the right track. 

The muscles in Sirius’ back flex as he raises and lowers his head between Remus’ legs, mouth growing wet with spit and slick, and it’s not long before Remus’ fingers are curling in Sirius’ hair, curses spewing from between his lips in a Welsh accent you’ve not heard before. You can’t help but follow them back to the source, kissing Remus just before he cums down Sirius’ throat. He grips you by the arms with something like desperation. You’re happy to stay as the tension unwinds from his body, until his hands are moving down you, smoothing across the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you planning on keeping those on all night?” 

It’s Sirius who asks, his gaze sultry as he watches Remus’ finger skim just underneath the fabric covering your ass. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a thumb. 

“How’s this?” Remus suggests. He pulls you gently into his lap, situating you between his legs with your back against his chest. Again, you can feel the impression of him pressed against your backside. 

Your voice comes out weak. “This is good.” 

He chuckles, soothing a hand down your side while Sirius grins. Sirius’ fingers grasp the elastics of both your shorts and your underwear. “Okay?” he asks you. 

You nod. 

He takes his time working them down your legs and off your ankles, his eyes locking on your exposed cunt and the arousal Remus has coaxed out of you already. Remus, too, is watching over your shoulder. His fingers gravitate back to it, dragging slick up through your folds idly, almost worshipfully. He kisses behind your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re lovely,” says Sirius. 

Both boys’ gazes stay glued to your cunt as Sirius positions himself over you, pushing into your warmth. You bite down on a small sound. Remus tuts at you, his hand spreading reassuringly over your navel. 

“You can do better than that,” he chides. “Don’t think we don’t want to hear you.” 

Sirius holds your hips as he sinks into you. His fingers dent your flesh, and you marvel at the fact that you’ve wasted so much time not doing this. That you’ve ever been in a room with either Remus or Sirius and managed not to kiss them dizzy. You’re not sure you’ll be able to manage it again. 

Remus draws slow, tight circles around your clit with his finger. You arch your neck back onto his shoulder, and Sirius groans as you tighten on him. 

“God—you’re so perfect,” he says hoarsely. “You feel so good.” 

Your reply gets lost on a lewd sound as he drags his cock along your walls. Remus kisses you rewardingly in the soft skin underneath your ear. “There you are,” he says. “Good girl.” 

Warmth unfurls through your gut. 

Sirius grins whatever reaction must show up on your face, his hands migrating to your ass as he thrusts into you. As he gets rougher, so do Remus’ ministrations to your clit, his slow circles turning quick and jagged. You feel yourself tighten on Sirius in little flutters that have him gripping you tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises. 

“Fuck, like that, yeah. Just like that, baby.” 

Your lips part at the pet name and Sirius’ eyes flick up to yours like he’s surprised too, like he’s let slip something he didn’t mean to. But you say, “come here,” and he goes, leaning over you to let you take his face in your hands and kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

Remus feels your high approaching before you do. His free hand smooths over the inside of your twitching thigh. 

“Are you close?” he asks you. 

Sirius parts his lips from yours, looking down to see the confirmation on your face. You give it.

“Good,” he says, picking up his pace, “good, sweetheart, that’s it. Cum for me, yeah? I’ve got you.” 

You nearly bite your lip in half when you do, Remus tsking amusedly and kissing your neck while the tightening of your cunt threatens to send Sirius over the edge as well. He starts to pull out of you, but you grab his hand. 

“It’s okay,” you manage. “In me.” 

“Really?” he asks in a strangled voice. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. Sirius’ expression pinches like you’ve said something cruel as he thrusts into you one last time, a shock that reverberates through you as he warms you from the inside out. He’s rigid for a few seconds before tipping forward, his head to your shoulder and to Remus' chest, which you’ve slipped down without noticing. His breath fans softly over your skin. 

Remus rubs your thigh comfortingly and with his other hand pets down Sirius’ hair, cupping his flushed cheek. “Alright, love?” he asks. 

Sirius’ blush seems to worsen. “Yeah. You?” 

“More than.” Remus kisses his head. 

It’s only after a few seconds of silence that you realize Remus’ question was posed to the both of you. 

“That was…” you shake your head, at a loss “...fantastic.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius nudges his nose into your skin. “I thought so.” 

Remus’ chuckle rumbles through all three of you. “Cocky,” he says fondly. 

“And decent enough with it, by all reports.” 

It starts up a round of sweet, half teasing kisses Sirius pretends to want to escape despite making no real efforts to do so. You give and receive plenty of your own, until not just your lips and shoulders but many other parts of you are wet with spit and slick. You fall asleep all three on a twin mattress on the floor, your head on Remus’ chest and Sirius’ arms wound around your middle. It might be the best sleep you’ve ever had.

[no-144444]

the grid: time for a hot lap!

Day 22 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

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Oscar Piastri: 

When Oscar told you that Mclaren wanted you to do a hot lap with him at the Austin GP, you were pretty shocked. Both you and Oscar were pretty against putting your entire relationship on blast, and you were usually too busy with your own job to make it to the GP’s, but you’d promised you’d do the triple header with him this time. 

“It’ll be fun,” he smiled, rubbing your back as you both lay in bed together. “I promise I won’t go too fast.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the ‘going fast’ part. I care about the questions they’ll make me ask you.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be alright, I’ll ask them to not make it too inappropriate.” 

You sighed, knowing he really wanted you to do this. “Let’s do it.” 

“Thank you baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and finally, you both got up for the day. 

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The Texas sun was setting over the Circuit of the Americas, casting a golden glow on the iconic track. You sat in the car, Oscar revving it up as your heart dropped when you looked at the first question. “Holy shit Osc,” you mumbled, flipping through all of the cue cards. 

“What?” he asked, looking over. 

“These are all from, like, a horny question game!” you whispered. He immediately started laughing as he flipped through the cards, each one getting more ridiculous. 

“What are these? ‘Kiss me for 5 whole minutes’? What is this shit?” He laughed. 

“That’s one of the more tame ones,” you whispered. 

“This one is the worst,” he chuckled, showing you a card that says ‘Do you have any fetishes I don't know about?’ and you both bursted out laughing. 

“What do we do?” You asked, not knowing if you were meant to actually ask such personal questions. 

“Throw them out the window,” he instructed with a cheeky smile. 

You rolled your eyes. “Oscar, we can’t do that-!”

He grabbed them out of your hand and threw them out his window, then started speeding down the main straight. 

Oops. 

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Lando Norris: 

“It’ll be funny!” You begged. “Come on, I promise I won’t scream- that much.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You barely let me drive anyways, what’s different about this, huh?”

“That’s so not true! I let you drive when I’m drunk.”

“Exactly!” He giggled. 

“Please Lan, let’s just do it, I promise it’ll be fun,” you poured, and he knew he had no defence now. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “But you owe me something in return,” he lifted an eyebrow and you chuckled. 

“You’re such a child,” you teased before placing your lips on his. 

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He was pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoyed it. He sped along the circuit, and every time it came to the last corner, he obliged your begs to his again until you eventually did 6 whole laps going top speed. As you both got out of the car, while you spoke animatedly to the camera, he stood shyly behind you. As you two walked off ‘set’ (the pitlane) you turned to him. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, taking his hand. “You alright? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”

He chuckled, blushing. “It’s not that,” he mumbled and you understood. 

“That made you hard!?” You asked, shocked. 

“Shut up!” He whined. “I have a hot girlfriend, sue me!” 

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Lewis Hamilton: 

It wasn’t the first time Lewis had asked you to do a hot lap with him, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You had agreed, of course, and this would be the first time it was filmed for the general public's viewing pleasure. 

“Ready?” he asked, turning the car on. 

“Ready,” you nodded. As you two sped off, you looked down at the questions. “Alright, Bono or Toto for a night out?”

“Easy, Bono and Toto, both of them are great fun,” he smirked. 

“What’s the best advice you’ve gotten about love?” 

“When my dad told me to marry you,” he answered, not really thinking as he almost sent the two of you into a gravel trap.

“Fucking hell Lewis, at least pretend to still be good at your job,” you scolded as he laughed. “If you weren’t an F1 driver what would you be?”

“Probably a stay-at-home dad,” he shrugged. 

“What superpower would you want?”

“Teleportation.”

“Who do you miss more when you’re away, me, or Roscoe?” 

“Oh shit, that’s hard,” he smirked, thinking. As you two weaved around the final corner, you had no reaction, even when he drifted you barely batted an eye. It was impressive to say the least. “You, obviously.”

Actually, you hadn’t had a reaction to any of the driving, no gasps or sighs, no grabbing the safety handle, nothing.

As you two pulled back into the pit lane he looked over at you with a smirk. “Seriously? No reaction?”

You shrugged. “It’s not that thrilling.” 

He shook his head with a smirk. “You are something else baby.”

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George Russell:

“You alright?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I would not have agreed to come out of the garage if it means that this shit is happening,” you gritted out. 

He just laughed and pressed a kiss to your hand. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

“Babe- BABE!” you screamed as he shot off down the main straight and began the hot lap. “FUCK!” 

George just laughed as he weaved through the corners, you screaming the whole time. 

“Ask me the questions!” he instructed. 

“FUCK! LIFT GEORGE, FUCKING LIFT!” you screamed. There was a certain hilarity to your relationship, especially considering that you were his lead engineer. “THIS IS ALWAYS YOUR PROBLEM!”

“Ask the questions!” he laughed. 

“FUCK- a-alright, Lando or Alex- GEORGE PICK A FUCKING BREAKING ZONE!” 

He was laughing too hard to answer for a moment, but he composed himself as you gasped at every twist and turn. “Albono and I probably see each other more,” he chuckled. 

“Alright, next questi- GEORGE LIFT!”

“I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, laughing. Just then, he iver shot it and brought you both straight into a gravel trap, stuck there. 

“You ‘know what you're doing’, do you?” you scoffed. “I am never doing this shit again, I sit in the garage for a reason-”

He leaned over and kissed you, a bright smile on his face. 

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Alex Albon:

As a sky presenter, you’d been forced to do many strange things. For example, try and give Jenson Button a piggy back for 3 hours (you’d lasted about 40 minutes, which was pretty good), try to reconcile Brocedes (it kind of worked?), made many fans days, and had a great impact on the sport. 

“So you want me to do a hot lap with Alex?” you questioned Ted. He nodded. 

One thing you didn’t talk about often was the fact that in your 2 years at SkyF1, you’d started dating one of the F1 driver’s, Alex Albon. Neither of you were particularly keen on telling the public, because it just never felt like the right time. 

“Alright,” You shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

That’s how you ended up in the strangest position yet, driving your F1 boyfriend around the COTA track in a Ferrari. 

“So Alex, any advice for me?” you asked, turning to him.

“There’s no grip, don’t try to drift,” he chuckled. Honestly, he was enjoying this. He had taught you some of his drifting tactics and such, and he was really enjoying shooting with you. SkyF1 usually kept you two separate out of fear that you’d expose your relationship, so despite you being there every weekend, he rarely saw you during the day. 

“Got it,” you nodded, speeding down the main straight. Immediately, he started barking orders at you of when to lift and when to not, and he was screaming and gasping at every corner, while you just laughed. Honestly, you loved driving as fast as you could with no repercussions. 

As you finally slowed down to the end of the hot lap, he finally started breathing again and sighed. “I’m dating a lunatic!” 

You just laughed at him as he stood up from the car, legs shaking. 

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Daniel Riccardo: 

You were terrified of what Daniel would do when he was given the chance to drive a very fast car, very fast, with no repercussions, and you as his passenger. 

“Not too fast, yeah? I already know you’re a great driver,” you smiled, trying to make him slow down. 

He just smirked. “Baby, y’know I’m a racecar driver, right?”

You grimaced. He accelerated. You screamed. 

“Isn’t this fun?!” he asked, doing doughnuts on the track. 

“FUCK NO!” you screamed. “Daniel slow down! Slow down!”

“Nothing is making me slow down now-”

“I’M PREGNANT!” You shouted. 

He brought the car to a startling halt and turned to you with wide eyes.

You took out your phone, ready with a photo of the positive pregnancy test. He gasped. 

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes clouding with tears. 

You nodded. 

He pressed his lips to yours quickly, stealing a kiss, then another. 

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Charles LeClerc:

“Mon coeur, please! It will be fun,” he begged. 

“No, no way,” you chuckled, trying desperately to get away from him in the Ferrari garage. 

“Rebecca is doing it with Carlos,” he told you. 

“So she doesn’t value her life? Ok, that’s fine with me,” you argued. 

“Please my love,” he asked, taking your hands. “One lap, I’ll slow down, I promise.”

You stared at him for a second. “One lap?”

“One lap,” he nodded. 

“And you’ll be gentle?”

“So gentle,” he nodded. 

“Fine.”

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He was not gentle, nor was it one lap. He ended up taking you around 3 times, while you basically begged him to stop or slow down. 

When you both got out, you immediately ran to his driver’s room and tried to calm down, while he was interviewed. 

“Is she alright?” Ted asked. 

Charles smiled. “She’s not a big fan of stuff like this, so probably not,” he chuckled. “I might be sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

Ted chuckled. “Well, we understand why, you did drift the entire circuit 3 times and you almost went off 4 times.”

Charles sighed. “Thank you Ted.”

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Max Verstappen: 

You’d sat in the passenger seat of his valkyrie aston martin a hundred times before, what would be so different about this?

A lot.

As Max drove and you screamed, he put his hand on your lap trying to calm you down. 

“MAX! BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!” you screamed as he chuckled. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD DRIVER!”

“I am a good driver!” he shouted back, over the sound of the engine. 

“Evidently not!” You screamed as he went straight over a curb.

“Do you want to see bad driving?” He smirked.

“No! No! That’s ok, just- MAX!” You screamed as he immediately sped up and started to drive even more recklessly. 

“FUCKING HELL MAX!” you screamed. “I’LL DIVORCE YOU!” 

He just laughed. 

What a way to announce your marriage, right?

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

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[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 6)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: making out, mommy kink, jealous Agatha

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas @r-3-becca @harknessshi

Before you can open your mouth to respond, she yanks you back into the bathroom you had just come out of. You rip your hand out of her grasp. 

“What – what are you doing here?” You ask, mouth agape. How had she known where you were? Why is she so mad?

She advances on you until your back hits the wall. Fury is radiating from her and you’re more than a little frightened (and kind of turned on). 

“You see me kissing your dad, so what?” She sneers scathingly. “You run and find the first girl you can for a lousy fuck in a bathroom?” 

She keeps coming closer so you put your hand on her shoulder to stop her. “What are you talking about?” You shout exasperatedly. “We didn’t ‘fuck in the bathroom,’ I was upset and she was comforting me!”

“You kissed her,” Agatha says, voice strangely calm. 

“And you kissed my dad! Also, are you fucking stalking me?”

“I followed you to make sure you didn’t do anything rash, because news flash, your father and I are married! I know you don’t want to hear it, darling, but not everything is about you.” 

You grit your teeth. “I know that. But do you? Because every time I even get close to a girl, you basically call me a slut.” 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t acting like one,” she snarls. You fist your hand into the shirt she’s wearing, digging your nails in through the fabric. 

“You know, it’s pretty rich that you’re calling me dramatic for earlier when you’re literally going crazy over the thought of me with someone else.” The air in the room seems to change. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to addressing this thing between you. 

You see Agatha falter for a split second. “That’s not what I’m doing,” she growls. 

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge. “Then what is this? Cause to me, it looks like you’re jealous.” 

The vein in her forehead throbs as she leans in. “You know what this looks like to me? Like a spoiled little girl didn’t get the kind of attention she wanted for one second so she decided to throw a temper tantrum. And now she needs to be taught a lesson.”  

“Fuck off, Agatha.” You let go of her shirt and raise your hands to shove her back but she easily catches them and pins them above your head. 

You inhale sharply, a noise sounding an awful lot like a moan coming out of your mouth. She smirks wickedly, her eyebrow raising. 

“What a naughty girl,” Agatha tuts and embarrassment burns your face. 

“Let go of me,” you say, struggling to get out of her grasp but she holds you tighter. 

“Is this what she did to you when you took her to the bathroom?” 

She’s bringing up Rio again. She clearly has some serious jealousy issues and you wish you didn’t find it so hot, however frustrating it is. “I didn’t have sex with her, for fuck’s sake! I kissed her, yeah, but I was thinking about you the whole time.” The admission stuns you both and her grip around your wrist slackens. But you don’t pull away. You need to see how she’ll react. 

Her eyes drop down your lips, then back up. She leans in closer and you forget how to breathe when she ghosts her lips over your mouth and you find yourself instinctively drawing in an attempt to actually kiss her. 

But she steps away before you can, dropping your hands and letting go. 

“What?” You sigh defeatedly. You’re already tired of this game she keeps playing, the one where she strings you along and makes you think she likes you and then cuts you off. She doesn’t get to be jealous and possessive and then back away after almost kissing you. 

“I’m married to your father,” Agatha says. “I’m your step-mother. I’m over twice your age. We can’t do this.” 

“I don’t care!” You insist, but she shakes her head. Your insides harden and you get a rush of boldness. “Okay, fine. Here we go. I want you, Agatha. I don’t care who you’re married to, or how old you are. Fuck, I like how old you are!” 

She scoffs in disbelief, eyes darting up to meet yours and then to the floor again. 

“So you can either do something about that, or you can let me go back out there and have fun with my friend.” You give her the ultimatum, praying that you didn’t just ruin everything.

For a minute, you think Agatha will change her mind. But then she spins on her heel and walks out of the bathroom. You feel a rush of emotion flood over you, but you shove it down. You got your answer. It’s better you know now. 

“Hey, where have you been?” Rio asks when you finally rejoin her on the dance floor. 

“Ran into someone I knew,” you say evasively. “You wanna get out of here?” She nods eagerly. You give the bar one last look over just to see if there’s any sign of Agatha. 

There isn’t. 

You bite back the disappointment rising in your chest and pull Rio out the door by the hand. 

You’re walking to your car when you see a shadow in the alleyway by the parking lot. You squint your eyes and can make out the trace of a woman. 

Is it her?

Stopping abruptly, you turn to Rio and drag her in for a long kiss, pushing her against your car. She groans into your mouth. It grows heated and you’re almost too distracted to notice your phone buzzing in your purse. 

You break away, both of you gasping for air. Rio runs a finger over her lip smugly and you pull out your phone. 

You win. Drop her off and come over to my house. Do NOT touch her. It’s from the unknown number you’ve memorized. A number you could recite in your sleep. A hot thrill runs through you. 

You smirk to yourself and turn to glance back at the figure in the alley, still cloaked in darkness. Of course Agatha would wait to watch, not being able to give up control even after she tried to. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever driven so fast in your hurry to get Rio home so you can go be with Agatha. But once you’re parked in Rio’s driveway, there’s an awkward pause. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Rio finally asks. You feel bad that you’ve led on her, made her a pawn in this game between you and your step-mom. 

“I should probably go. School tomorrow, you know. There’s still some things I need to finish,” you say apologetically. She nods like she understands and then she gets out of the car and enters her house without looking back. A pang of guilt hits you hard but you shake it off. 

I’ll be there in 20 you text Agatha. 

I’ll be waiting. Her reply comes almost immediately and your breath catches in your throat. 

Anticipation builds in your stomach the entire drive to your dad’s house. You’re not sure what will happen, or really what can happen if your dad is home. You have a feeling that if you have sex, Agatha will want to hear you make noise. 

You arrive in front of the house, all the windows dark. You shift nervously. Maybe she just made you drive all the way over here, knowing you wouldn’t do anything with Rio if she told you not to, and is hanging you out to dry. 

You check your phone. It’s been about twenty minutes, so Agatha should know you’ll be getting there any minute now. You wonder if you should ring the doorbell, make Agatha come down and explain or risk waking your dad. 

And then you see it. 

The gate to the backyard is unlocked and slightly pushed open. An invitation. 

You quietly shut your car door and creep up the driveway, cringing at the sound your car makes when you lock it. The gate squeaks. Your shoes echo on the patio concrete. It’s like you’re asking to get caught. 

When you finally turn around the house and come into view of the pool, your mouth falls open. 

Agatha is floating in the pool, an inviting smile beckoning you to join her. But that’s not what gives you pause. 

You can see in the light of the moon that she’s naked underneath the water. 

Your mouth runs dry as you strip off your dress as quickly as you can and your underwear follows in suit. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so turned on in your life and you can see her eyes darken at the sight of you. You walk quickly over to the pool steps and wade over to her, stopping when you’re right in front of her. 

The two of you stand like that for what feels like forever, simply soaking in each other’s bare skin. No words are spoken, risking nothing that might break this spell. 

And then Agatha reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, asking for permission with her eyes. 

You give it to her by entangling a hand in her hair and dragging her into a bruising kiss. There’s no teasing, no featherlight kisses – you both need this too much – and her tongue is in your open mouth before either of you knows it. You feel her moan into you and your arms circle around her naked back to pull her in even closer. You whimper at the feeling of her breasts against yours and you’re easily able to wrap both your legs around her waist, practically weightless in the pool.

Her fingertips dig into your ass and you can’t help but roll your hips against her lower stomach at the sting. 

“I can feel how wet you are even in the water,” Agatha chuckles darkly, walking with you until your back hits the edge of the pool, pulling another groan out of you. 

Her lips are back on yours, kissing you so fervently and so dominantly that it makes your head spin. You feel like you’re drunk. You’re literally vibrating with need for her. 

Her hot mouth trails down the side of your neck and then bites harshly. You whine, trying to get some stimulation on your clit by squirming against her stomach. Agatha tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and sinks them into it, eyes flashing with the sound you make. 

“Please, Agatha,” you beg. Her hands start stroking up and down your thighs, the dull ache between your legs now a roaring fire, still holding you in place against the pool wall. 

There’s a glimmer of mischievousness on her face. “Oh, baby, I know you can do better than that.” 

You’re panting, lips swollen, and grinding on her stomach. You’re not sure how much more she wants. “Please, Agatha, I need you, I want you, please fuck me, mom-” You clamp a hand over your mouth before you accidentally embarrass yourself beyond repair and she smirks like it’s the most delicious thing she’s ever heard. 

She leans in and whispers against your ear, “Say it. Who do you belong to?” Her right hand slowly moves up your thigh until she’s hovering her fingers right over your pussy. 

Your breath stutters, feeling her right where you want her. “You, mommy,” you whisper, barely audible. 

"That's right." She slides her hand through your folds, pressing hard on your clit which elicits a moan from you, and then she shoves you off her, stepping away like she had done in the bathroom at the bar. 

“What the fuck?” You ask, throbbing with need, never more aware of the emptiness inside you than right now.

“You didn’t think I was going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled in the parking lot, did you?”

“Agatha, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you mad, please don’t, I need you so badly.” Your pleas fall from your mouth and she delights in them.

The smirk on her lips is pure evil. “I know, sweetheart. But mommy needs to make sure you learn your lesson. And trust me, when I do finally fuck you, it won’t be in a pool.” She climbs out of the water, grabbing the towel she set on the side and dries off. You watch her in a stupor, not believing that she’s going to leave you like this, lips still burning from her kisses. She throws the wet towel back on the ground for you to use and then walks naked to the sliding glass door, tossing you one last look. “And don’t even think about touching yourself.” 

She goes inside and you are alone once again.