#But I want it to be something to do with stories/playing into expectations and cliches

[infernothechaosgod]

"damn...I cant belive she did this"

I already made that joke but idk if I posted it? Anyways pete loves gossip magazines, minerva sometimes catches a glance mid "kidnapping"

[cosmiclily]

How do you write Vi so well 😭 I love our bby girl and she deserves the world!

Can I ask you for some real-life story with her? I’ve been thinking about reader who startsrking at a local grocery shop, a small one with regular customers and Vi is one of them. And the reader sees her in all states - dressed up for a date, hangover, dishelved after break up, etc.

And somehow her and the reader hit it off after Vi’s one particularly bad day. What do you think about it? And I can imagine an old lady working there as well who knows Vi since she was a little kid and can tell there is something going on, maybe she pushes Vi to make a move? Omg so cliche but that’d be sweet!

under fluorescent lights

wc: 3.1k

notes: thank you so much!!! and my secret to write Vi so well is to be gay ! 😼 also yes she deserves the whole universe 😭

Going to your dream college had its ups and downs. On one hand, it was your dream college—you were studying (mostly) what you loved, the professors were great, and best of all, you had finally moved out of your parents' house.

On the other hand… you had to move out.

Which meant a brand-new city, brand-new bills, and a job at a funny little convenience store owned by the weirdest and funniest old lady, Babette.

Your college was in a ridiculously expensive city, so you ended up renting a tiny one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. To make ends meet, you picked up a job at the local convenience store, and thankfully, Babette was understanding about your erratic class schedule. She was patient, and let you take extra shifts when you needed—but that also meant sometimes getting stuck with night shifts, which, yeah, you weren’t exactly thrilled about.

The first few days were rough. Learning the register was hell, but you found solace in stocking the shelves, mindlessly organizing cans and boxes while the store’s soft background music played.

And the days had started blending together—uneventful, repetitive—until she walked in.

“Hey, Babette.”

The pink-haired girl strolled into the store like she’d been there a million times before. She greeted Babette like an old friend, her voice smooth but casual, like she belonged.

“Vander asked me to pick up his order” she continued, leaning against the counter. “Said he already paid for it.”

Babette barely looked up from the crossword puzzle she had spread out on the counter. She spent most of her days pretending to work, occasionally glancing at the security cameras like they were more interesting than the actual customers.

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand. “Y/N, can you grab the green box from the back for me, please?”

You nodded, slipping into the stockroom. The box was heavier than you expected, but you carried it back to the front, struggling a little, and set it on the counter. “Here.”

The girl straightened, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie as she reached for it. That’s when you noticed her tattoos—inked lines running up her forearms, disappearing beneath the fabric. Her hands looked rough, but somehow soft at the same time, and for a fleeting second, you wondered how they would feel.

She glanced up at you then, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. The scar on her lip caught your attention, making it impossible to look away.

“Thanks” she said, voice quieter this time.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the box, and your stomach did something stupid.

You swallowed, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep your hands from lingering.

And just like that, she turned, carrying the box out the door like it weighed nothing, and you just stood there, watching her go.

Babette didn’t even look up from her crossword. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

Your face burned. “I am not.”

“Mhm.” She circled something on the paper. “She’s in here all the time, you know. If you want to make a move, at least try not to look like a deer in headlights.”

You groaned, turning away—but even as you went back to stocking the shelves, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was still racing.

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And Babette was right.

Vi—you had since learned her name—was at the store all the time.

Every Thursday, without fail, she came by to pick up the green box. On Mondays, she bought two cans of Red Bull and a packet of hot chips. On Tuesdays, she sometimes stopped by on her way to the gym—if her athletic clothes were anything to go by. (And god, were they distracting.)

One time, she walked in while you were stacking cans of beans, and the second you caught sight of her—messy hair, hoodie slung over her shoulder, muscles on full display—they all came crashing down.

She had laughed. Loudly.

You had wanted to crawl into a hole.

And then, throughout the week, she would just… appear.

Some days, she actually shopped. Other days, she wandered the aisles like she had nowhere better to be, hands shoved into her pockets as she examined products you knew she wasn’t planning to buy.

Once, she came in, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately turned toward the snack aisle.

You had stared after her, dumbfounded, until Babette cleared her throat behind you.

“You’re staring again*,* sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” She smirked knowingly. “You should say something before she gets tired of making excuses to come in here.”

That thought had never left your mind.

So, after that, you started paying closer attention. Not just to Vi, but to the clock, the calendar. You noted her patterns, tried to prepare—ensuring you looked at least somewhat presentable when she walked through the door.

And if you maybe, kind of, adjusted your shifts so you’d be there when she usually stopped by?

Well.

Babette didn’t have to know that part.

But then exam weeks came, and all your carefully laid plans to finally work up the courage to get Vi’s number came crashing down.

You had to pick up mostly night shifts so you’d have time to study and actually take your exams, which meant going weeks without seeing her. And honestly? That didn’t do wonders for your mood.

“You look like a zombie.” Your friend said, eyeing you with mild concern as the two of you sat in the library, cramming before one of your final exams. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“No…” You whined, dropping your head onto the open textbook in front of you. “I’m working at night, studying all the time, and I haven’t seen my wife in almost a week. I’m suffering.”

They snorted. “You can only call her your wife when you actually gather the courage to ask for her number.”

You groaned, waving them off. “I was getting there! But then life happened.”

And then, even after your exams were over, Vi still didn’t show up.

At first, you assumed your schedules just weren’t lining up. But then she missed her usual Thursday pickup—the oneconstant you had been able to count on—and that’s when you started to worry.

You wanted to ask Babette if something had happened, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up without making it obvious you’d been paying way too much attention.

That’s when on Friday night she —finally— showed up.

Except she looked… different.

Her usual hoodie and sweatpants were gone, replaced by an outfit that made your brain short-circuit. Her hair was sleeked back, her cologne reached you from across the store, and when she stopped in front of the wine section, scanning the bottles, she looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine.

You swallowed hard, gripping the counter in front of you for dear life.

Where the hell was she going dressed like that?

She made her way to the register, and before you could think better of it, the words were already slipping out of your mouth.

“You look different. Got a date or something?”

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t clawing at your own insides with curiosity. Like you didn’t care way more than you should.

Vi grinned, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. “Yeah, actually. Do you like the fit?”

She took a step back, giving you a playful little twirl to show off the outfit, and—god—you wished you had just kept your mouth shut.

Because, yes, you liked it. Too much.

“Yes” you said, forcing yourself to smile through the sudden pit in your stomach. “You look really pretty.”

And you meant it. But you kinda wished she was dressed like that for you.

After Vi’s date, she started showing up even less. She still came by every Thursday to pick up the mysterious green box, but she didn’t linger anymore—no more aimless wandering through the aisles, no more pretending not to notice you watching her.

It was pathetic how much you missed it.

“You could look a little less… dead, dear” Babette commented one afternoon, barely looking up from her crossword puzzle. “I told you to make a move on Vi. You took too long.”

And she was right. If you hadn’t been so slow, maybe that bottle of wine would’ve been for you—not some mystery girl she was seeing.

So once again, your days started to blend together.

College. Work. Home. Rinse. Repeat.

Thursdays became the only bright spot in your week, the only time you got to see Vi—hoodie pulled up, hands shoved in her pockets, mumbling something about Vander’s order before leaving just as quickly as she came.

You lost track of how long that routine lasted—until one particular Saturday night shift.

Because Vi walked in again.

But this time, she looked pissed.

Her brows were furrowed, jaw tight, knuckles raw. She stomped through the aisles like she was ready to punch the next person who looked at her funny. Without hesitation, she grabbed a bottle of vodka, a pint of ice cream, and an obsceneamount of hot chips.

You barely had time to process before she was at your register, slamming the items down with a little too much force.

“Rough night?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, and all she did was sigh—loudly.

“You could say that.”

The two of you fell into silence as you scanned her items, the beep of the register the only sound between you.

You hesitated before asking, “Want to talk about it?”

Because, honestly, you weren’t sure if her bruised knuckles were from a fight or not, but she looked like she was ready to kill someone. And if she got arrested, your weeks would go from boring to extra boring. Plus, that very nice face of hers? Yeah, it didn’t belong in prison.

Vi sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just…” She trailed off, exhaling sharply through her nose before continuing. “I was seeing this girl, and everything was great. Until I found out she was cheating on me.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your face neutral.

Vi let out a humorless laugh. “And then there’s the other shit—home, college, everything—and I don’t know. I kinda lost it?” She glanced down at her raw knuckles, flexing her fingers like she was only now realizing how bad they looked. “Guess I needed to blow off some steam.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, scanning the last item before handing her the bag.

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile. “If it helps, I think vodka and an unreasonable amount of hot chips are definitelythe right call.”

That got a snort out of her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned on the counter slightly. “And, you know, if you ever need to not get into a fistfight and just complain about life to someone, I do work here almost every day.”

Vi’s lips twitched, almost like she was fighting a grin.

"Noted" she said, grabbing the bag. But before she turned to leave, she hesitated, glancing at you like she was debating something.

Then, with a sigh—like she had finally made up her mind—she asked, “Do you want to go eat an unreasonable amount of hot chips with me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the invitation.

Your eyes flicked to the clock. There were still a couple of hours left in your shift, but Babette wouldn’t mind if you closed a little earlier. It was for a good cause, after all.

“Yeah,” you said, already reaching for your jacket. “I do.”

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That’s how you found yourself in the back of Vi’s pickup truck, parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you and sharing a pint of cookie dough ice cream with a single, slightly bent spoon she had found somewhere in her car.

The night air was crisp, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. The sound of distant traffic and the occasional chirp of crickets filled the silence between sips and spoonfuls.

“So” you started, leaning back against the side of the truck bed “tell me about this girl.”

After all, that’s what you were here for—to let Vi vent, to be a good friend. Even if you kind of hated that you were asking in the first place.

Vi exhaled through her nose, taking a swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you.

“I don’t know” she admitted, stretching her legs out. “We started hanging out after you disappeared from work. It wasn’t even serious—we weren’t, like, dating dating—but she said we were exclusive.”

You hummed, swirling the bottle in your hands. “And clearly, she had a different definition of ‘exclusive.’”

Vi let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah. Caught her texting some other girl when she thought I wasn’t looking. Turns out she’d been seeing someone else the whole time.”

You frowned. “What an asshole.”

“She really is” Vi agreed, stealing another bite of ice cream. “And I feel stupid because I didn’t even like her that much.”

“So why are you this pissed?” you asked, tilting your head.

Vi hesitated, tapping her fingers against the truck bed. “…I don’t know.” Then she looked at you, really looked at you, and something in her gaze softened. “Maybe it’s because I was wasting my time on the wrong person.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could say anything, she smirked.

“Or maybe I just really wanted an excuse to drink vodka and eat an ungodly amount of hot chips with you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Smooth, Vi. Real smooth.”

She grinned, bumping her knee against yours, the warmth of the small touch lingering longer than it should have.

“And I didn’t disappear from work,” you corrected, making dramatic air quotes. “I had exams. Very important ones. I was basically a zombie for three weeks—working the night shift, studying all day… Life was hell.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Damn. No wonder you looked like death warmed over that one time I did see you.”

You gasped, shoving her shoulder playfully. “Rude.”

She just chuckled, taking another swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you. “I was kinda worried, though,” she admitted, scratching at the label on the ice cream container. “But I figured if I asked Babette, she’d just tell me your life was none of my business.”

You snorted because, honestly? That sounded exactly like Babette. “Yeah, she totally would. She’s nice in, like, the meanest way possible.”

Vi laughed, nodding. “Right? I once asked her if she thought I looked good in my red hoodie, and she just went, ‘It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen on you, dear’ and then walked away.”

That made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your sip of vodka. “She’s brutal.”

Vi grinned, watching you with something unreadable in her expression. “Yeah, she’s been like that since i was a kid.” She chuckled “But i’m glad you’re back.”

The words were simple, but something about the way she said them—like she meant them—made your stomach flip. You looked at her, at the way the streetlight cast soft shadows across her face, at the way she was watching you like you were something worth paying attention to.

And maybe it was the vodka, or the way the night wrapped around the two of you like a secret, or maybe it was just her—the way she looked softer like this, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the laughing, eyes a little hazy but still locked onto you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

If you were to die right now, you’d die happy.

Vi tilted her head, studying you. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Sometimes you stare at me, and it’s like you go somewhere else.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. It’s just… silly.”

Vi narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Silly, huh?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, she leaned in just a fraction—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across her nose.

“Try me,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing. “I like silly.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs. She was too close, too Vi—all lazy grins and rough edges, but somehow still soft in moments like these.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, sitting in the back of her pickup truck, a half-finished bottle of vodka, packages of chips and a pint melted ice cream between you, the distant hum of the city as your only witness.

“It’s just…” You hesitated, glancing away for a split second before meeting her gaze again. “If I died right now, I think I’d die happy.”

Vi blinked, her smirk faltering. Something unreadable flickered in her expression—something almost tender.

“That’s a little morbid” she said, but her voice had lost its teasing edge.

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy, wasn’t suffocating. It just was. Comfortable. Unspoken words and lingering glances filling the space between you.

Then Vi shifted, her fingers reaching out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. The touch was light—so gentle that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can I try something?” she whispered.

You nodded, breath hitching in your throat.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow, careful—like she was memorizing the way your lips felt against hers, like she was afraid you might disappear if she moved too fast.

Her fingers ghosted over your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, deepening the kiss in a way that made your chest tighten. You tasted cookie dough and vodka on her lips, something warm and dizzying curling in your stomach.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“Yeah, I was definitely wasting my time on the wrong person.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. “Oh? And who was the right person?”

Vi smirked, her fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt. “Dunno. You tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I could be your idiot.”

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but when she tilted her head, nudging her nose against yours, you knew you were gone.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, before kissing her again.

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masterlist

[1800bitchcraft]

What if Ford and reader are having their first time together or about to when reader drops the bombshell that they're a virgin because they never felt a connection with anyone like that until him? I feel that might do something to him with his possessiveness and maybe even a slight ego boost despite the lick of shame and uncertainty at being the one to take their virginity, but it ends up turning him on way more than he expected? 😳

A/N: shut UP I LOVE THIS !!!!! Literally shrieked when I read it, my dog thought I was trying to play with her🤣 anyways, darling, I couldn't NOT write something for this it was too delicious! This ran away from me a lil bit and turned into a full blown fic but I hope you like it!

CW: fingering, first times, virginity kink, oral (F!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cumming inside, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, i think that's it??

!!! MDNI OR I WILL SCREAM !!!

Smut under the cut

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick.

You glanced at the clock on your wall, nervously smoothing down your skirt. 6:52 PM. The clock seemed to glare back at you, or was that just your own reflection staring back at you from the glass? You bounced your knee, nerves kicking up a storm in your belly. Your eyes darted to the coffee table in front of you. The still full glass of wine you'd poured in the hopes it would calm your nerves.

It didn't.

You took a drink.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

You weren't nervous for any bad reason, per se. In fact, one could even say you were nervous for a very good reason, depending on your use of the word 'good.'" Tonight was your fifth date with your new beau, Ford Pines. He was something of an enigma to you, having heard the stories about him from when he'd first moved to town. But, hearing he was something of a recluse, you'd gone on thinking your curiosity would remain unsatiated. Then he'd wandered into your book shop late one afternoon and, well. The rest was history.

Really, he was perfect. Though, he would argue that fact with a frankly precious blush on his handsome face, he really was. He was everything you'd ever wanted in a boyfriend. He was kind, considerate, gentle. He listened to everything you had to say, every random bit of gossip or interest of yours, no matter how fleeting, he soaked in with rapt attention. And it certainly didn't hurt that he was so handsome.

Perfectly sculpted cheekbones and those warm brown eyes that never failed to make you melt. A strong jaw and fluffy grey curls streaked with silver that you loved to play with. He had a stockier build than what you were used to back home, but you couldn't say you didn't like it. Really, you probably liked it a little too much. It was... challenging, to say the least, to keep yourself from climbing the poor man like a tree. The only thing that really kept you from it were your own nerves, and the reason for your nerves tonight.

You had yet to tell him this, but, well, you were a virgin. It wasn't for any special reason like most people assumed. You weren't saving yourself for marriage and you weren't doing it for religious reasons. Though, you couldn't blame people for assuming that since you were a whole adult and could count on one hand the amount of sexual experiences you had in your life.

No, really, it was just the simple fact that you hadn't found anyone you liked that much. You'd tried to explain it to a previous boyfriend. That you didn't, couldn't, feel attracted to someone in that way until you'd developed feelings for them. But that had just resulted in a lot of confusion and hurt feelings, so you'd resigned yourself to the possibility that maybe you'd just be alone.

Of course, then Ford had to enter your life. It was cliche, you knew it, but he was just so patient and understanding. You loved how curious and genuinely in awe he still was of the world. And, eventually, over the course of your dates and the long, long hours spent together between them, you found yourself falling for the awkward, sweet nerd that had wandered into your shop.

So, you'd taken the liberty of preparing your date for the night. Ford always said he wanted to try your cooking, and you thought what better way to have this conversation than over a home cooked meal? And, who knew? Maybe you might finally take things to that level, instead of just making out on the couch and leaving frustrated and wanting more.

Just then, a knock on your door sounded.

"Coming!" You called out. You set your glass back down, now empty, and rushed to the door. When you opened it, there was your Stanford, standing on your porch as handsome as ever. He'd opted for a soft brown button up under an argyle patterned sweater vest in different complimenting shades of green. His slacks and shoes were brown to match and you blushed when you remembered the last time you'd seen him wear that sweater.

"You look..." Ford paused, seemingly at a loss for words as he drank in your form. It wasn't anything special, or so you would claim, but you looked like the brightest of jewels in Ford's eyes. "Incredible. As always." He finished with a soft smile, eyes coming back up to yours and you broke his gaze first, shy under the intensity of his attention but you loved it all the same.

"Oh stop," you waved him off, certain your cheeks were scarlet by now. Ford chuckled and you ushered him in. "You're just in time! I just finished making dinner," Ford smiled over his shoulder at you, turning to face you after hanging up his jacket in your coat closet.

"Oh? I'm excited to see what you've made," he reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you close. You sighed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling safe and secure all wrapped up in his strong arms.

"Mmm well, it's a surprise," you murmured, voice lowered as he leaned in to press his forehead to yours. He hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing else, seemingly content to hold you and stare into your eyes. "A surprise that we will have to move to the kitchen for, if you want to see it," you smiled then, voice taking on a teasing edge. Ford sighed dramatically, straightening back up, though there was a simmering heat in his eyes that made you shiver.

"Well?" He asked, smirking down at you. "Lead the way." You blushed again, pulling away from him but keeping a hold of his hand as you lead him into the kitchen. You smiled when you felt his fingers interlace with yours.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

"You really do look incredible."

Ford was trying, desperately, to look at your face. To pay attention to the words you were saying, but after he'd fallen silent for just a little too long once more, you'd called his name. A soft, concerned look on your face as he blinked then looked back at you. A blush colored his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I just- I'm getting distracted I guess," he huffed a laugh and you smiled. You set your wine glass back down on the coffee table, scooting closer to him just so you could drape your arm over the back of the couch, close enough to trail your fingers across his shoulder. Ford suppressed a shudder and took another long swallow of his wine before he set it down next to yours. He turned to face you, resolutely not looking at where your skirt had ridden up to flash a glimpse of your soft thighs.

"Distracted, hm?" You mused and Ford smiled, sheepish, when he caught the mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Yes." He huffed. "You distract me constantly, even when you're not there." His admission made your breath hitch, having not expected that. Your heart started to pound and Ford smirked. He leaned in closer, just to see the way your eyes dilated when he dropped his hand to rest on your knee, warm and comforting. Innocent, but with the potential for more.

"Oh?" You asked, breathless. "How do I do that?" Ford inhaled sharply, catching a deep lungful of your sweet, lightly spiced, perfume. It was intoxicating.

"I think of you an... alarming amount of the time," he mumbled and you giggled. Frankly, you were flattered by this new knowledge. But, of course, he didn't stop there. "I think about what you're doing, what your plans are for the day. I think about what you might've put on that morning as you got ready, sometimes I even wonder if it's that dress you wore on our first date. The one that drives me crazy." His voice was lowered, like this was a secret only you could know. You shivered, spellbound by this perfect man telling you how much and how often he wanted to.

"Yknow, I think about you too," you murmured softly. Ford hummed softly, a questioning lilt to it. He leaned in and you tensed slightly, awaiting a kiss that he planted on your cheek, instead. Then another, then another, then another. Trailing down to your jaw as his hand slowly slid up your thigh, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

"And?" He drawled the word teasingly. You lifted your hands to press against his chest, grounding yourself. Suddenly you were painfully aware of how close he was, but you couldn't find it in you to stop him. You wanted, no, needed more. "What do you think about me, honey?" The pet name made you shiver and your thighs squeezed together on instinct. A groan rumbled in Ford's chest and you felt it more than heard it, vibrating beneath your fingertips.

"I- I think about your hands," you said finally. You felt breathless, heart pounding so hard you were dizzy, as his lips gently grazed your neck. It was a light, barely there touch but it felt like fire. He pressed a kiss to your skin then; firm and sudden and you thought you felt the barest flicker of his tongue. His hand squeezed your thigh, encouraging you.

"I think of how they feel when you touch me, how... easy you make it for me to feel desperate when you've hardly done anything." The words were leaving you in a rush, you couldn't stop them now. And, if the way Ford was gripping your thigh as his kisses began to linger longer and longer was anything to go by, he didn't want you to stop. "I think about your lips, how much I love kissing you. Or the way you grab my hips and squeeze them when you're overwhelmed."

Whatever else you were going to say was lost as Ford surged forwards suddenly, claiming your lips in a kiss. You melted into him, one hand sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. A light pressure kept him close as you traded kisses that slowly grew more heated the longer they went on. It was a struggle to remember your original plan, especially when Ford was nipping lightly at your lower lip, soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue.

"Wait- wait, Ford h-hang on," you panted softly. Dimly, you wondered how you'd made it to this position, finding yourself sitting halfway in his lap. Stopping suddenly, Ford pulled away enough to look at you, pleased with the dazed and desirous look on your face.

"What? Is everything okay?" He murmured, brow creased with concern. You smiled, heart fluttering with fondness.

"No- I mean, yes, everything is fine I just- i wanted to talk to you about something before we get..." You paused. "...carried away." You finished with a blush, eyes darting to some distant corner. Ford hummed, as smile playing over his lips. You yelped as he suddenly gripped your hips, pulling you towards him until you sat fully in his lap, straddling him. He grinned up at you, unashamed in the slightest.

"Well, go on then. I'm all ears," he murmured and you rolled your eyes fondly. You smoothed your fingers over his sweater vest, fingers tracing idly patterns as you tried to get the courage to speak.

"Well, um," you cleared your throat, nerves rioting in your belly. "We- we've been seeing each other for awhile now and I... want more with you," you spoke softly, placing emphasis on your words in the hopes he'd pick up on the underlying meaning. You weren't disappointed when you heard his sharp intake of breath, hands squeezing your hips where they still rested.

"And?" He said, voice soft and gentle, realizing his prompt was necessary. You swallowed, then took a deep breath. You can do this, like ripping off a bandaid.

"Well, I just. I thought it would be best for you to know beforehand that I'm not the most... experienced." That was an understatement.

"Darling," Ford's voice was soft and fond. His hands came up to rest gently over yours on his chest, squeezing your fingers. Your gaze darted back to his, and you were lost in the intensity of them. "Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" Your blush darkened. You bit your lip, and his eyes tracked the movement greedily. It was taking everything in him to stay composed, calm for your sake, as he waited for your answer.

You nodded after a moment, not trusting your voice. Ford inhaled sharply, steadying himself against the sudden onslaught of possessiveness that rushed through him. Never, in his life, would he have thought he'd end up being the more experienced one in a relationship. Add that to the intoxicating thought that though you were, arguably, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen he'd be the first one to get to have you like this, and he nearly felt drunk on the feelings churning through him. He swallowed, realizing he needed to say something, anything.

"You've really- I mean, never?" He asked and if you heard the strain in his voice, you didn't comment.

"No, not really, I just." You shrugged one shoulder, still avoiding his gaze. "I don't know, I guess I've just been waiting for the right person. I've never... liked anyone, as much as I like you." You admitted the last part in a soft, shy voice and Ford felt his heart flutter even as his cock twitched in his pants. Adorable.

"Well," he started slowly. "I hope you know I would never ask or expect you to do anything you're not comfortable with; if you don't want to do anything now, we don't have to. We can wait as long as you'd like, okay?" He paused, waiting for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded, gaze flitting to his shyly, he smiled.

"And... what if I am ready?" You asked softly and Ford couldn't contain the soft groan that left him. His arms moved to wrap loosely around your waist, gently holding you to him as his forehead pressed to yours.

"Darling, don't." He inhaled sharply, so close his lips brushed against yours every time he spoke. "Not if you're not certain, please."

A soft, needy sound bubbled up inside you. You wiggled a little in his lap and Ford choked when he felt you shift against his cock, already half hard in his slacks.

"But I am," you implored. "I'm so sure, Ford, please. I just- I wanna feel you, all of you." And how could he deny you now? When you looked at him so sweetly, need shining in your pretty eyes. With a broken groan he surged forward, kissing you suddenly and deeply. Your hands delved into the short curls at the base of his neck, nails scratching lightly over his skin.

Time passed by in a blur. A flurry of kisses and touches, Ford's hands gripping and squeezing and feeling every inch of you he could reach. You were lost in him. In the intensity of his touches, the pleasure that burned through you and set you on fire. You only realized how far gone you were when you blinked and suddenly found yourself in your room, back pressed to your mattress as Ford hovered over you. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his vest, his shirt unbuttoned down to just below his broad chest. You had lost your top all together, now only clad in your skirt and underwear.

"God, look at you," Ford breathed the words softly, reverently. He sat back on his heels, letting his greedy gaze drink in every inch of you. His hand trailed down the front of your body, fingertips starting at the hollow of your throat and skimming down, down, down to your pudgy belly. You felt shy under his scrutiny, and instinctively started to move your arms to cover yourself, but Ford was faster.

"Uh-uh, none of that, pretty girl," he murmured, catching both wrists in one hand easily and pinning them above your head. Your belly fluttered with heat at the display and you whimpered, unable to hide the noise. Ford swallowed thickly, his cock throbbing where it was trapped behind his zipper.

"You're so... responsive," he murmured softly. He leaned down, caging you in with his body over yours, propped up on his forearms on either side of your head. You kept your hands where they were, despite desperately wanting to touch him. You were curious to see what he'd do now and he certainly didn't disappoint. You arched upwards with a sharp inhale when you felt one big, warm palm skin down across your side until he could cup your breast. Squeezing and feeling the plush fat in his fingers.

Heat pulsed through you, a whimpery mewl of his name leaving your lips. "Thaaats it, jus' relax n'let me take care of you," his voice was a low, soothing murmur against your skin, drunk on your scent and your responses. His hands left you, grabbing your hips to tug you forwards until your legs wrapped loosely around his waist. You moaned when this brought your aching cunt pressed tightly against the throbbing bulge in his slacks, the pressure a welcome sensation. Ford's nimble fingers skimmed back upwards, taking advantage of the slight arch in your back to unclip your bra and toss it. Your breasts now free, you both moaned as his bare skin made contact, thumbs drawing light circles over your perked nipples.

"Oh" a soft, breathy exhale left you as you felt the pads of his thumbs, roughened with callouses, rub over your perked and sensitive nipples. "Nngh F-Ford-" your eyes fluttered, panting softly. You slid your fingers into his hair as he lowered himself, kissing and biting along your breasts.

"Pretty- so, so pretty like this," he murmured against your skin. He let the fingers of his left hand tweak and tease at your left nipple, hot mouth moving over to take your right between his lips. Your thighs twitched where they were wrapped around his waist, shifting and squeezing as the pleasure sparked along your nerves.

"Nnngh Ford- F-Ford, oh fuck-" your voice cut off with a whiny gasp. Ford's groan reverberated into you as your thighs around his waist squeezed and pulled, heels digging into his lower back to push him closer until your rolling hips found his clothed cock to grind against. "Oh, oh yes, fuck-" you gasped the words, high and pitchy as your poor, neglected pussy throbbed at the contact. Ford swore he could feel the heat of you bleeding through your clothes. The slide of your panty-clad pussy too smooth for you to be anything over than soaked.

"Good girl," the words sent pleasure arcing through you, your head tossed back against your sheets as your eyes fluttered. "Oh honey," he cooed softly. His voice was tight with restraint, the way you rubbed your cunt against him slowly picking at his sanity. "Y'like that? Hm? Fuck, that's it. Just like that, sweetheart. Use me, make yourself feel good." He was mesmerized. Spellbound by the sight of your as you grasped at the sheets beneath you, back arching as your hips shifted and rolled. He could feel you, wet and desperate, soaking the front of his slacks. Marking him.

"Ford, f-ford-" you whined, opening your eyes to look at him. Your gaze was lidded and hazy, clouded with desire. A pout marred your spit-glossed lips and Ford twitched it his boxers, a thick ooze of precum dripping from his tip to stain his boxers.

"Shh, what is it? Hm?" He murmured, cooed at you, and the tone of his voice made your belly flutter. His hands abandoned their work at your breasts, moving to grip your hips. He steadied you before leaning forward, rocking his hips into your cunt. Your heels dug into his back, hands coming up to grab at his arms, tugging insistently until he was pressed flush against you.

He leaned in, smothering your moans in a kiss. His hips jerked into yours, messy and uncoordinated, when your hands slid to his chest. Scratching your nails along his skin, eliciting shudders and moans, you unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. Pushed it off his shoulders like it had personally offended you.

"Ford," you panted softly, breaking the kiss. "Ford it's- s'not enough, I- I want more, please," your brow knitted together, an adorable little frown marring your features. Ford. His forehead fell against your shoulder with a groan, his breath puffing over your skin in soft pants. He kissed at your collarbone, nipping gently and leaving blooming marks in his wake.

"Yeah?" He said finally, voice low and rough. He kissed his way down your body, kneeling between your spread legs. "What d'you want?" He murmured, smirking as he kissed a trail of fire from your knee to your inner thigh.

"Don't--Oh fuck--don't tease," you said, petulant even as your hips wiggled. Whatever smart ass remark Ford had ready was lost in a choked off moan as he shoved your skirt up. Your pretty panties were absolutely drenched. Soaked so thoroughly that the pale pink fabric was dark.

"Oh sweetheart," he said, unable to keep the desire from his voice as his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread for him. He swallowed thickly, suddenly aware of the pool of saliva threatening to spill from his mouth. "You're so- you're so wet," he muttered, voice awed. One of his hands left your thigh so he could stroke a thumb over your covered slit. He moaned to feel your sopping heat, even through the sodden fabric.

"Ah, ah- please, please Foooorrrd--" you whined, hips jerking into the barely there pressure of his thumb. "You- you can't just t-tease me, I need you." You sniffled, tears suddenly filling and threatening to spill from your glossy eyes as the bubbling heat and pressure in your belly threatened to boil over. Your words did nothing to quell the harsh, possessiveness that had lashed itself in a tight band around Ford's chest.

"God, yeah, you do don't you?" He murmured. You could've cried with relief when his thumbs finally hooked into the band of your panties, dragging them down your pretty legs slowly. His cock throbbed, sticky and wet in his boxers as he watched the fabric peel away from your puffy pussymound. His mouth dropped open, another rush of drool pooling as sticky, pearlescent strings of slick made their appearance. Desperately clinging to your ruined panties.

"Fuck, honey, she's- she's just cryin' for it, huh?" You hardly recognized his voice as his. It was thick, gravelly with need, and laced with the remnants of an accent thought long gone, making his words sound harsher, dirtier. "Think you've deprived her too long, starshine. Look how needy she is," you barely registered he wasn't talking about you, but rather your pussy, before the thought disappeared. Lost in the feeling of thick, calloused fingers sliding through your slick, velvety folds. Spreading you, stroking the tips of his two fingers around the edges of your hole, just to feel the way you clenched. Tried to suck his fingers in desperately. His thumb trailed up slowly, drawing lazy circles over just the peak of your swollen little nub.

Your hips twitched forwards, wanting desperately to grind into the touches Ford was teasing you with but he was determined to get you to say what you wanted. "C'mon, wanna hear your voice," he coaxed you, a pussy drunk little smile on his mouth already.

"Please Ford," you said finally. "Please touch me, want your fingers."

"Silly, you already have my fingers," he teased, hiding his smirk. He dipped his fingers just barely into your twitching hole, gratified when you whimpered. "Try again, sweetheart."

"Want- want them in me, Ford, please," you whined at him, voice trembling. Ford swore, a harsh and muttered fuck leaving his lips.

"Put your hands in my hair- that's it, good girl," his praise made you flush. Another pulse of desire making your pussy ache. Ford swallowed thickly, breath hitching where your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging slightly. "You pull me away if it's too much, okay pretty girl? Otherwise, I'm not stopping." The wolfish grin on his lips seemed almost out of place if his eyes weren't glossy with lust. You were about to question him when he suddenly dived in, licking a stripe up your dripping cunt with the flat of his tongue, moaning like a whole when your taste coated the muscle. His fingers started to push and press, stretching the walls of your pretty pussy. He lapped at your clit, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue then licking it with the flat of his tongue. The pleasure distracted you from the pressure and slight pain of his fingers until he curled them, fingertips pressing into a soft, spongey spot that had you seeing stars.

"Fuck, Stanford!" Your back bowed, fingers curled tight in his hair and making him moan into your pussy. His full name on your lips was almost too much, cock pulsing and leaking a steady stream if precum. He knew the inside of his boxers had to be a sticky mess by now but couldn't be bothered to care. Not when your pussy was fluttering around his fingers, your hands in his hair tugging hard enough to make him moan.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel you squeezing my fingers, you're so close aren't you, baby? Such a good girl f'me, so fucking pretty like this and all mine, never gonna let anyone else see you this way, " his words were possessive and hot, spoken in between licks and sucks to your aching clit, but you loved it. They pushed you just that little bit closer and Ford could tell by the way you whimpered his name, your hips rolling down to meet his thrusting fingers. "You like it when I talk to you, honey? Like knowing how fucking turned on I am at the sight of your? Fuck you're a vision, starshine. So, so beautiful. Love that you let me have you like this, love that you're mine."

"Yours! Fuck, m'all yours Ford- please please please m'so- so close, f-fuck!" Hearing it from your lips made him throb. He had to sneak his free hand down to palm at his cock, desperate not to cum yet.

"Thaaaats it, c'mon sweetheart, cum on my fingers." His low, rumbling voice desperate and needy is what pitched you over the edge. Your back bowed, hips rolling, and once Ford was sure you were in the thick of it he replaced his fingers with his tongue. Drinking you down as if you were ambrosia, moaning into your pussy, hands gripping your hips to help you ride out your release on his face. When the waves of pleasure slowed to a gentle ebb and flow you pulled him back up. Hauling him onto the bed, hovering over you just so you could kiss him. You didn't care that you could taste yourself on his mouth, and Ford let out a slutty moan when your legs wrapped around his waist. Pulling him into you until the bulge in his slacks was pressed snugly against your sopping pussy.

"Honey- honey, wait- lemme just-- unhand me, woman, for the love of-" you felt him smile against your lips, now unable to keep kissing him because you both were smiling. Giggling like lovedrunk teenagers as you foiled his every attempt to pull away from you. He finally managed to get his slacks and boxers off, no thanks to you. The choked off moan he let out as he swiped his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick, only made you wetter. He wondered if he'd make it out of this alive and, as he slowly started to push in and felt the tight clench of your dripping cunt, he quickly realized he wouldn't.

"Oh god," he choked the words out, forehead pressed to yours. "Fuck honey, you're so- so- fffuuuuck." His eyes fluttered, reduced to babbling nonsense. You weren't faring much better. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him and digging your nails into his back. Your mouth hung open, nothing but punched out little whimpers leaving you as he rocked his hips, sinking his cock in inch by inch until his hips were pressed flush to your ass.

"Ford- Ford you're so d-deep," you managed through panting breaths. Ford leaned in, unable to keep himself from kissing you. Really, it was just to keep you quiet. He was barely able to control himself just feeling you, how hot and wet you were, the way your cunt fluttered and squeezed around him as he bullied his way inside. He wouldn't have been able to stay sane if you started talking on top of that.

"Mm- mmnn Ford- Stanford-" you mumbled his name in between kisses, and he twitched inside you.

"Honey- honey, don't- I can't-" he whined against your lips, hips grinding into you, desperate for the way you gasped his name, nails digging into his skin. "God, you feel so good, fucking- fucking perfect, sweetheart you're so- so wet." He wasn't wrong, either. He could feel you soaking his cock, dripping down his balls. You dug your heels into his back, pussy fluttering around him.

"Please Ford," you whined. "Please move, please please please-" your words cut off with a whimper as Ford took them to heart. He started an even, steady pace, groaning into your skin at the way your pussy squeezed and sucked him back in. Desperate not to let him go. "Oh, oh god-" you choked the words out when he found your sweetspot again. Shifting his hips and angling so that his tip was giving it messy kisses every time he sank back in.

"S'that it? That the spot baby?" He twitched inside you, spurting precum to coat your walls at the fucked out look on your face. His hips jerked, pace increasing as he was desperate to keep you looking like that. Eyes glossy, brows furrowed, mouth open and panting. "Fuuuuck that's it, good girl. Jus' let me take care of you, jus' want you to feel me, feel how good it is when I'm inside you."

"So good, so- so good, Ford l-" he shushed your needy moans, leaning down to bite and suck marks into your neck. Your moans and his groans echoed throughout your room. The noise of your sloppy cunt loud enough to make anyone blush. When the pitch of your moans started to change, coming out faster, higher pitched, he knew you were close.

"Fuck you're close, aren't you? I can feel it, feel so suckin' me in- c'mon honey, cum for me, I wanna feel it," that was an understatement. He was desperate for it. Desperate to have you fully, in a way no one else ever had or would. He bit sharply at your shoulder, moaning against you skin as you squeezed him. "Fuck fuck fuck, that's it baby, that's it. Gooood giiiirl, c'mon show me who you belong to, who's making that pretty pussy feel so good." You never would've guessed Ford could be this filthy, but it was your undoing.

Your pussy clamped down around his cock, fluttering and squeezing rhythmically, making him go cross-eyed as the pleasure ripped through him. You creamed on his cock with a wail, nails scratching marks into his back he'd admire later. He felt his own orgasm hot on his heels, unable to resist the way you milked his cock.

"Baby- baby, I'm close I'm so-- oh god, so close, where-" your thighs squeezed around his waist, ankles locking behind his back and the sudden panic at realizing he couldn't pull out mixed with the pleasure in a way that left him dizzy. "Baby, baby dont- don't-"

"In me, please Ford wanna feel you wanna- wanna be full, please please please." There's no way he could've resisted you, no possible universe in which he could tell you no. Giving in with a deep, rumbling groan he felt his cock twitch, balls tightening as he pounded into you with renewed energy.

"Oooohhh fuck, my darling wants to feel full huh? My cock not enough for you h-huh? Gotta- oh god, gotta st-stuff you with my cum too?" You nodded, eyes teary from the overstimulation. When fat tears slid down your cheeks he was done. Hips jerking and fucking into you harshly, cumming with a hoarse shout of your name before he stilled inside you. You could feel his cock twitching, jerking as he spurted thick, gooey ropes of cum to coat your walls.

You both panted softly as you came down. You held Ford against your chest, feeling his heart beat where he was pressed against you. You smoothed your fingers through his hair and he hummed, soothed by the motions.

"Mmmm... y'do that and I won't have it in me to get up," he murmured. You giggled softly, kissing the top of his head as affection bloomed in your chest.

"I'm alright with that," you murmured. You shushed him softly when he started to protest. "We can clean up later. Right now, I just want to stay here. Just for a little bit. Please?" Ford paused for a moment, but the promise of your soft curves against him and your hands through his hair was impossible to resist, so he settled back against you.

"Fine. Later."

[foreverromanticising]

something, somehow, someday

1.9k words of idiots in love

lando norris x f!reader

(this is kind of rllly bad bc i need to get back into fanfic writing - im a veteran but its been a while! requests open pls send whatever!)

Friday nights always followed the same routine for Lando, he was playing chaueffer. Well, the Friday nights he had off from being Lando Norris Formula 1 Driver. More often than not, he found himself driving around Monaco, playing pick up from different bars with his girl and her friends. 

Calling her ‘his girl’ was loosely strung, she wasn’t his girlfriend by any means, but simply calling her a friend seemed unjust. It didn’t pay any justice to their connection; best friends also seemed far too juvenile for they never knew each other in their childhood years, when the term best friend perhaps would’ve suited them. 

No, they met much later in their lives, Lando’s second or third season in Formula 1, and she just happened to know a friend of a friend, which ended in the two at the same party at the same time. Typical and cliche, they knew it, but they both preferred having an organic story to tell of their meeting rather than having to admit their connection was found on some online algorithm. 

However, it wasn’t that many people asked for their meeting story as they were just friends, plain and simple - asking two friends how they met didn’t hold the same importance as it did for asking a couple. 

Yes, they were friends, if their relationship had to be labelled but in a sweet and sticky sense of friendship. They weren’t friends in the way Max and Lando were friends; a relationship consisting of streaming, gaming, and very platonic activities that would be expected of two friends. Their friendship was abnormal to outsiders but it made perfect sense for them, and why should they listen to anyone else’s opinions?

Lando never found himself waking up with any of his other friends head’s on his bare chest, but with his girl it made perfect sense. The Monaco sun peering through the windows, illuminating highlights within her hair against his tan chest, his arm tightly wound around her waist, and both of their bodies pressed into one side of the bed, despite its huge size. 

This was their normal; they had drawn an invisible line between their friendship and something more, they never dared to cross it but the line definitely grew to become blurrier as time went on.

Hence why, Lando continually found himself in a parked car outside of whatever bar or club she chose to spend her Friday night. He claims he would do this for any friend that would ask him to, he cared about how his friends would make it home, but she had never once asked to be picked up, rather he always offered.

On the outside, Lando made it clear he cared about her making it home safely, there was no reason for her to pay for a taxi when he was happy and available to take her home - a firm believer his driving was far safer than any taxi driver. But, there was a miniscule part inside his beating heart that knew it was more than just her safety. He liked picking her up because it meant she would go home with him.

Him and no one else.

“You’re sure your friends don’t need a lift too?” Lando waited to pull away from the bar until he had a definite answer; just because he was picking up his girl didn’t mean he was going to leave her friends stranded - his offers always extended to whoever she was out with. “You know I’d rather take them than a taxi.”

“I know, Lan, but Alex’s boyfriend’s on his way anyway,” Your lifted your head off of his car window to look over at Lando, sincerity laced within your words. “They’re all gonna stay at her place, it’s just easier.”

“Do you want me to drop you at Alex’s?” He hadn’t known the night out was extending into a girls night, feeling almost guilty for wanting you in his bed, his arms, rather than with your own friends. “You wanna spend the night there?”

“No,’ You let the word drag out, trying to bite back the grin that was threatening to spill over your lips. Unbeknownst to Lando, you wanted to end the night in his arms just as much as he did. “I’m tired and I think I’m done socialising for tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Just back to yours, then?” He had to actively keep his face from allowing a frown to take over after hearing your wish to no longer socialise, he had only assumed this Friday night would be the same as all the others but it appeared you had other plans.

“I mean, it’s kinda out of the way now, isn’t it?” You looked at the street whipping by you, trying to feign nonchalance over the thought of heading back to Lando’s. “Your place is probably easier.”

“Thought you didn’t want to socialise with anyone else tonight.” Lando was also trying to act nonchalant, like he didn’t care, like he hadn’t thought about this Friday night tradition ever since you had woken up in his arms last Saturday morning.

“Yeah but you don’t count.” A smile tugged at your lips as your social battery for others may have been used up, you didn’t think it could ever run out when it came to Lando. You didn’t have to play pretend, or use up much energy around him, if anything he rechargred your batteries. A night with him was exactly what you needed.

He knew exactly what you meant. You two didn’t have to even speak when you were around each other. Comfortable silence was enough to maintain your friendship.

Once Lando had parked his car, you made your way to his apartment, in that comfortable silence you had been craving. This silence followed both of you in the elevator, as he unlocked his front door, as you made your way to your respective drawer in his bedroom to find something to wear to bed, until he found you brushing your teeth and chose to join you. 

It was an image of domesticity; an old quadrant shirt of his draped over your body paired alongside a pair of his basketball shorts, your skincare lining his bathroom counter, your bodies pressed against one another - shoulder to shoulder, just as your pink and blue toothbrushes stood in their holder beside the sink. 

“What’s your plans for tomorrow?” Lando spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste, as thought his question couldn’t wait the two minutes. You poked your elbow into his ribs to shut him up until you had finished brushing your teeth.

“Not sure yet, the girls wanna go for brunch but nothing’s set in stone yet,” You looked at him through his bathroom mirror. “Why? What’re you scheming?”

“Just wondering,” He shrugged his shoulders then turned on his heel, making his way to his bedroom - prompting you to follow him. “Wondering if you wanna come play padel with me and Max tomorrow morning.” 

You watched as he peeled back the covers on his bed, placing an extra pillow onto your unassigned side of the bed because he knew you liked more pillows tha he did. “I think I’ll pass, that sounds sort of hellish to me.” Athletics had never been your thing, never one to actively participate in games, and whilst you loved Max you thought it was best to leave him and Lando their own time without you imposing - though, Lando would insist you could never impose.

“Yeah, that’s alright. Probably good to see him before the double header kicks in,” Lando climbed into his bed, arms open for you to crawl into as he was wasted no time in wanting to hold you close. “You’re still coming to Belguim, yeah?” Hints of uncertainty could be found within his voice, though he tried to hide it, he couldn’t help it. He wanted you there, cheering him on from the sidelines, because he wasn’t sure he could get through the next few races without that light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah ‘course.” You didn’t have to give it a second thought; you had already decided after a phone call with his mother, but it must’ve slipped your mind to tell Lando himself. You were more focused on making yourself comfortable against his body, your head taking its him on his chest as his fingertips danced along the sliver of skin that was shown from the way your legs tangled with his under the covers.

Night soond turned into morning, Lando’s alarm blaring through his phone, making him regret any decision to play padel as he felt your body intertwined with his. He had to fight every urge to cancel his plans for the day and instead keep you in his bed, wrapped up in his clothes and his arms and his bedsheets. Would it be too much to ask you to spend another night within seconds of his eyes opening? Perhaps, but he couldn’t bear the thought of spending his nights alone for the next two weeks. 

He had two separate hotel rooms booked for Belgium but he knew that, inevitably, either one of you would cave and pad your away across the hotel to the other hotel room, desperate for the comfort of laying beside one another.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he forced himself to get up for the day, leaving you to rest in his bed whilst he headed out to padel. Not before sending you a quick text to wake up to:

Lan<3

Hey, just headed to padel with Max

I’ll be two hours at most and 

I’ll come home with breakfast

Stay put pretty girl

“Who are you texting?” Max asked as Lando climbed into his car, trying to peer over to see his phone screen but remaining unsuccessful as it was pulled out of his vision.

“No one, you nosey bastard.” Lando turned his phone off, begrudgingly so, and put it into his pocket.

“I know it’s her, don’t play daft,” Max knew everything about Lando and his girl, even if they were too blind to see it. “I know she’s in your bed right now, and I know you’re late ‘cause of it.”

Max knew they were meant to be, even if they didn’t, he knew it - they were taking their time in getting there, in realising that was even a possibility for the two of them. Something pulled them together, somehow they would realise it, and someday they would end up together.

Even if Lando claimed his career was too much for her to handle, only allowing himself short flings with girls that didn’t matter to him, instead of a fulfilling relationship - Max knew she would be able to handle the ins and outs of Lando’s world; she knew how to ground him after a win when his ego allowed him to feel like he was on top of the world, but she also knew how to calm him down when he came to her door upset after a race.

Max didn’t buy into her claims that Lando wouldn’t be with her because their worlds were too different, he knew that was what he wanted. He didn’t want someone who stuck around for his titles and fame, he wanted a welcome sign and a plane ride home.

But Max would never intrude on fate, he was letting them be. They were meant to be, he knew it as well as everyone around them, but he was letting fate run its course for the result would be far more fulfilling than if he meddled with the two sides of the same story he was continually being told. 

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

We Are and the evolution of Thai BL tropes

The QL discord started a rewatch of My Engineer a few weeks ago, and damn, has it been an interesting experience. At the time I originally watched My Engineer, there was little that stuck out to me, because so much of what happened felt so incredibly common in a lot of the (admittedly rather limited) number of BLs being produced. It felt like pretty standard fare.

But going back and watching it in juxtaposition with We Are airing has been so fascinating. This genre has been evolving, y'all.

As much as we all joke about always getting more university BLs, there is something to be said for a format that can be used as something of a metric for the genre. And though there's only four years between My Engineer and We Are, seeing them both at once gives me such an incredible appreciation for the direction the genre is going in, the impact of having more queer voices involved in the creation of QLs, and how there's a lot of good we can find in seemingly simple spaces.

Obligatory disclaimer: This is just my perspective and subjective interpretation of what I have seen as a BL viewer of some time; also I don't have time to go in and do a university deep dive, so this isn't a real analysis, but more of a brief writeup of observations.

Trends are not black and white, of course, there is a spectrum. I'm sure we'll suffer through more Dinosaur Loves. At the same time, having such predominant production companies as GMMTV putting effort into hiring queer creatives and subverting old cliche tropes is an encouraging thing. (Especially as they were the creators of the original university trendsetting BL with Sotus).

Note: For newer QL viewers, I highly recommend @absolutebl for brushing up on trope history. For university BLs in particular, this post and this post are great starting primers.

Let's talk tropes!

Ok, one more note - some tropes are being what I would consider subverted, some more adapted to a newer framework, and some just played with - I'm going to talk about how they appear to me, but I'm not going to be super pedantic over it, because this is just for fun.

Trope: Bullying/hazing behavior

This did not age well in My Engineer, and I would guess hasn't aged well in a number of BLs (and other media, because the whole "he's mean to you because he likes you" bullshit has been around forever). Not just because the behavior was shitty, but because it was played off in the script as cute, and implied that it was completely justified for the seme to do whatever he wanted in his pursuit of his uke.

(There was also quite a strong tone of internalized homophobia, with the lead feeling more comfortable in expressing his interest through harassment than honest emotion, but the show never actually engaged with that in any meaningful way.)

We Are sets up a very traditional enemies to lovers/bullying start to the story, with Phum taking advantage of Peem's economic situation to make him his "slave".

And yet... there's some important elements here that make this more than the standard use of the trope.

Phum keeps it pretty light in his bullying behavior, and clearly is using it more to keep Peem around as company, versus the kind of bullying in My Engineer, where Duen is literally hit by a car, and yet still expected to keep jumping to Bohn's whims.

As soon as Phum realizes he really upset Peem by leaving him waiting at the mall, he genuinely feels awful about it. It's clear that his intent is not to cause harm, and that he has a conscience. He wrestles with his feelings on it quite a bit, and it ends up being the thing that gets Phum to finally express an honest emotion with Peem.

And most importantly, the script does not let him off the hook. His behavior is bad, and is identified as such by the writing. Peem pushes back and is shown to be right to do so, Beer openly says he disapproves.

So instead of a cliche story beat that's used just to start the action, or a seme who's allowed to do whatever he wants because "passion" (blech), we're seeing it used for characterization, giving us important beats about who both Phum and Peem are in how they engage with each other through the use of the trope.

Trope: Obsessive/jealous behavior

Oh, this one was painful in My Engineer. Duen couldn't even talk to another human being without Bohn getting jealous and angry and dragging him away.

Phum gets jealous, particularly around Kluen, but what makes it feel so subversive here are two key things.

Phum's jealousy has a purpose here, it's not just for drama's sake. It's not the cliche seme doing whatever he wants and being treated as justified. It's deliberately being used to explore his insecurities, and give him a challenge to overcome. Phum doesn't stomp over and drag Peem away, he retreats, he hides. When his jealousy causes him to lash out at Peem, he is immediately aware he fucked up.

And again, the script is making it clear that this behavior is not ok. Peem chides Phum when he acts unkind to Kluen, and Beer makes it clear that the solution is not petty behavior, but actually figuring out a way to communicate his feelings with Peem before he misses his chance. This is portrayed as a barrier for Phum to overcome in order to be with Peem, not an expected part of a romantic relationship.

Trope: Friendship group

There are not enough words to express how much I love the friendship group in We Are. To be fair, this is one of the better historical tropes. We've gotten a lot of amazing friend groups, even in mediocre BLs.

But it's still different in We Are, for one simple reason. In most university BLs, the friend group is a supporting structure. But here?

The story lines may be about the romance, but the point of We Are is the friendship.

I will die on this hill, y'all.

I don't have enough time to go into it fully here, but this show is a love letter to friends. It's a tribute to finding the people who see the real you and have your back unconditionally. Who cheer your successes and commiserate over your defeats, who pick you up when the world knocks you down, who call you out when you make mistakes, and push you to be better.

And romance is lovely, but all of these budding relationships are about being friends first, and then lovers, because that friendship is just as important as everything else, if not more.

Trope: Pink milk

Lol, ok, kinda kidding, kinda not. I know we all got mad over the drink wastage, but also check out these visuals - it's about diversity baby!!

TanFang speed round

My two little trope-busting bebes. These two are already so beautifully non-traditional in their composition, but I love how frequently they are used to make fun of and play with tropes just on their own.

Introduced as pining crush/friend's older brother pair, but actually secret enemies to lovers.

Grumpy/sunshine pairing, where the sunshine used to be a fighter, and grumpy smiles when he thinks no one is watching.

Wound-tending where they keep poking each other instead of acting soft.

Openly mocking the jealous boyfriend trope.

Setting up the possessive trope when Tan doesn't pick up Fang's calls, only to immediately have Fang question if he's being unreasonable.

Setting up their own cute eating scene for kicks.

"First time" sex scene making it clear this is anything but their first time.

Tan holding Fang down in the cliche possessive pose, only for Fang to take the agency of kissing Tan. (And overall saying eff off at the cliche top/bottom roles old BLs were such a fan of).

In Summary

I'm sure there are more tropes that will come to me, and we do still have 5 episodes left of We Are, so there are some potential trope uses that I am keeping an eye on. This is by no means an all-inclusive list.

But I wanted to write this, because I was genuinely shocked to realize how different my My Engineer watching experience was this time compared to my first time. How over the last few years I'd come to expect more thoughtfulness in my QL media, even in the ones that seem shallow on the surface.

Considering how fast and furious the QLs are coming these days, it's easy to forget how recent it was that we were much more starved of content. And I think sometimes we forget to take in the big picture, of how far we've come in just a few years.

Critique is always going to be important, of course, it's part of what helps us make progress. At the same time, it doesn't hurt to take a moment to look around and see some good in where we are.

@sailorbryant thanks for the push to get this written! Feel free to add thoughts!

[petriwriting]

Summary: A Valentines date with JJ.

Blurb/Oneshot, short story, a little messy did not proofread.

February 14. The breeze was carried all the way through the dancing palm trees, a warm humidity embraced everything as the evening came along, making the katydids sing their Melody. The perfect evening for romance, sure it was cliche but you didn’t mind the fuzzy feeling. You took a deep breath of fresh air and scent of the sea filled your senses. You were wearing a a flirty sundress with sunflowers scattered across the fabric, the fabric fell at your thighs loosely, only suggesting what was underneath. You were heading to a date, with yours truly, your adoring boyfriend JJ Maybank. You weren’t expecting an expensive dinner, or extravagant gifts today, just seeing him was enough. 

He had told you to meet him at the dock, and the wooden boards creaked as the marshlands welcomed you, greeting you at the end of the doc JJ smirked. “Hey Baby,” he said tenderly, you walked up to him excitedly. “Hi JJ,” you chimed. There was a modest sailboat behind him, with fairy lights strung all around the rails, it twinkled almost matching the moonlight that now shined on the two of you. You stood facing him. “What’s all this?” You said. “Just a surprise,” he said trying to act modest. “It’s not much but I do what I can for my girl.” He said, your arms reached up and found his, fingers embracing. You giggled softly. 

JJ hopped aboard, taking your hand as he reached for yours to welcome you onto the boat as well. He led you down into a small cabin, illuminated by candlelight, with the table set with bright red flowers and beer on the table, chocolate strawberries and all. It was funny, considering you had joked with Sarah just earlier that day about wanting to receive chocolate covered strawberries and a romantic massage for Valentine’s Day. 

“JayJ,” you said in a soft exhale. “This is beautiful.” He stepped towards you, pushing the hair behind your ear. “This is nothin’.” He said. “I think you look beautiful tonight.” He said exaggerating the word like it was some exotic words that hung on the top of his tongue. “And this dress…” he said, as you leaned on the counter his hand found your waist gently resting on the soft fabric while his thumb brushed over it. “We have to do something about this dress,” he smirked inches apart you smiled into his lips, then pulled back toying with him. “What’s wrong with my dress?” You quipped. 

“Nah,” he clicked his lips together, you gazed into his eyes, mesmerized, his blond hair falling in his face in a mess. Your fingers found their way though it, something he wouldn’t admit he loved. “This dress has got to go,” he shook his head his flirty banter making your knees weak. He was such a sweetheart, so loving and romantic. “You don’t like it?” You chuckled softly. “I think you should take it off…” he said biting his lip. Your knees became complete putty. His fingers slipped lower until they snuck their way up underneath your dress, a few inches from your underwear. 

“Jay, dinner first.” You said sternly. “Fine,” he said pulling away, “you know if do anything for you,” he said with a chuckle. “In fact, I spent an hour coating these bad boys in a chocolate sauce,” he said popping one of the strawberries in his mouth. “My hard work paid off, delicious,” he said with chocolate melted to lip his. You giggled. “What?” He asked, “you want one?” He said offering you one of his gourmet strawberries, holding it out for you. You took a bite, your eyes lit up immediately. It was those juicy perfectly ripe strawberries from the farmers market. Someone had been stalking your Pinterest… JJ popped another in his mouth, smearing a bit of the dark goo on his lip again.

“J, you’ve got a little chocolate, uh right there,” you said in a seductive way, playing along with the banter. He was such a flirt. “Where?” He cooed. “Right, there…” you said, bravely stepping forward and kissing him again, you couldn’t get enough of his touch. His warm hand found it’s way to the small of your back as your lips intertwined, it meant you were safe, he’s got you. You felt loved, and adored by his gesture. 

. . . 

Insert your favorite smut here.

Your head rested on JJs head as his soft hoodie covered your chilly body as you sat at the nose of the sail boat, you watched as the joint JJ had lit painted a warm glow across his face and the puffs of smoke that erupted from his mouth after, he offered it to you and you took a few small hits, admiring him.

He caught on, and looked at you with loving eyes. “What?” You giggled. “I love you.” He had said. That was the first time he uttered those words to you, and it would not be the last. 

[tinrange]

Mirroring Chian and Baabin since the beginning of the story is such a smart storytelling move, and i think its a shame so much of it has been lost to the red flag/green flag discourse.

They remind me a lot of Junghwan from Reply 1988, another character who things couldve worked out for and who might've had a chance had he just stopped being afraid and actually done something about his feelings.

I often think of his line "In the end fate and timing do not happen out of coincidence. They are products of earnest, simple choices... I should have been more courageous. It was not the traffic light’s fault. It was not timing. It was my hesitations."

This, to me at least, is one of the central contradictions of being young. Everyone tells you youth are fearless, that recklessness is the one constant among all teens, and in a way thats true. Its true for Baabin when he runs out of his concert. But because these kids are so insecure, terrified of being hated, they really cant be honest.

Baabin had every opportunity to tell Fou4mod his feelings. But he's insecure. Its very easy to assign insecurity as a character trait to teens, in fact its almost a cliche. Yet its seldom done well because the insecurity ends up being portrayed as a general fear of everything around them. Baabin is very specifically insecure, he's courageous about these feelings in every other instance. He can confess to Chian, he can confess to Chian For Fou4mod to keep.it hidden, he can chase Bua down a busy street screaming his feelings, but he cant help himself from deleting those voice messages. He cant tell Fou4mod who he really is, he cant have Fou4mod see him vulnerable and it becomes increasingly difficult for him to keep up that front. So he just cuts off that point of connection. He'd rather be hurt in every other way over and over than put his feelings out there. He wants reassurance that he's important, but he does it in a way that allows him the upper hand and isn't ever about him or the relationship he treasures.

And thats real! But the thing is he still doesnt have what he wants. He's even more on the outskirts now.

Chian is very similar, his fear of being sincere has kept him stifling every emotion for fear of feeling it since episode 1. He cries in his bed, he stares into nothing, he keeps everyone at a distance. His outburst in episode 5 is anger, but its also frustration at himself. He's circled back into the same situation and hasn't made a real decision.

He tells himself he has, and that he's going to put Fou4mod first this time. But its still more of the same from both him and Baabin. When Fou4mod tells him he's dating now and its over he never even fights for it. I think its especially sad because through the episode you can see Chian pulling apart all the emotional ugliness complicating his relationship with Fou4mod, and so when he's left alone by the end he looks as if he expected it at some point.

Baabin isolates himself when he lies about where he lives and when he lies about his feelings, Chian is actually just alone all of the time. Chian puts himself in emotional harms way but plays the #nevercared act as a method of self defence, Baabin can't even put himself out there and still presents nonchalance to the point he won't even let Fou4mod entertain the possibility he misses their friendship.

Theyre both an interesting take on a common coming of age cautionary tale, that you shouldnt let passivity borne of fear dictate your actions. Illustrating that through the way they both end up accidentally conspiring to make Fou4mod feel as alone as they have is such a heartbreaking touch and resolution. They both kept getting stuck at traffic lights and blaming fate instead of their hesitations.

[swan2swan]

The biggest problem with Dominion is the dichotomy of Maisie's plotline with regards to motherhood, and the way both plots revolve around it from wholly opposite perspectives while never actually clashing.

Her plot starts off simply enough: she's angsting about not being a real person, Claire's trying to protect her, and Maisie spits at her with the "You're not my mother!" line right before she's kidnapped.

This is a classic Finding Nemo setup, which Claire takes to with gusto: she calls on favors, slips into seedy markets, fights a crime boss, eludes raptors, jumps out of a plane, and crawls through a forest to get the girl she calls her daughter back. Most stories would show this as a trial: ye olde "GASP! My parents love me!" story.

But the fact that Claire has no obligation to bring Maisie back is never challenged. Soyona doesn't bother with asking or playing the role of the tempting serpent instilling doubt; the closest the movie comes to that is Franklin giving her the "I told you this would happen" speech. It's all taken for granted, which is...okay, because we have already established who Claire is, but that's not the problem.

The problem comes with the other half of the story: Maisie mopes to Wu about how she's just a close, and Wu immediately points out how no, she was conceived and carried in a human womb just like everyone else! And he calls Charlotte "your mother".

And Maisie goes "Is that my mother?"

And when she meets Ellie, Dr. Sattler is somehow fully aware of who Maisie's REAL MOTHER, the one who created her and who she looks like, is, and gushes about how great of a eugen--person she was. Every single time Maisie talks about "her mother" with the people around her, the word is referring to Charlotte Lockwood, the woman who birthed her.

Meanwhile, that Claire woman is crawling into a slimy pond to get away from a twenty-foot-tall Kreugersaurus because she wants to get Maisie away from kidnappers.

Of course, Maisie runs back to her and yells "Those are my parents!", but there's still something missing there. Claire's side of the story is all about her powering through, risking her life time and time again to track down her daughter...but there's never really a moment between them later. Maisie even posits the "So I was just an experiment to her..." plotline that has been seen before, but even that's immediately refuted.

The movie's not wrong for avoiding the cliches and the oft-used tropes of foster motherhood, but it doesn't really break any new ground, either. Obviously, people can have more than one mom, but there's something of an imbalanced focus on Charlotte as Maisie's mother in the Maisie and Jurassic Park plotline, while Claire in the Jurassic World plotline is doing all the expected Mom Stuff.

I can't wholly express what's bothering me about it, maybe I'm overthinking it, but it...doesn't quite sit right with me.

[comicaurora]

Hey red, what's your opinion on some modern writing that's very lamp shady? And do you have any advice on how to avoid "Well that just happened" dialogue?

It's an interesting question!

The thing is, lampshading exists for a reason, but it's not the reason it gets used a lot of the time. Writers might lampshade a narrative choice they're insecure about, while characters lampshade because the things they go through in a typical story are kind of bonkers, and we might expect them to notice. If a character signs on for a simple mercenary expedition and ends up discovering they're the long-lost prince of a kingdom they've never heard of, that's weird and they probably feel weird about it. If an ally is determined to 1v1 their super overpowered nemesis with no help from their friends, those friends might have opinions about how dumb that is.

This is a form of lampshading that doesn't break immersion because it's entirely in-character and doesn't lean on the fourth wall. There's a difference between a character noticing how weird their life is and a character pointing out how cliched a recent experience was. In the latter case, the character is treating their life like a story, and while it IS a story, they shouldn't know that.

There's a spectrum here, with "complete sincerity and taking every turn of the plot at face value" defining the 0-point and "complete self-aware uninvestment" at the far end, but healthy levels of lampshading live somewhere in the middle. Characters at the 0-point accepting everything that happens without question can feel just as weird as characters that won't stop pointing out the TVTropes entry they're currently living. It's about what it makes sense for the character to find disruptive or noteworthy. A hardened badass probably won't see the need to point out how bonkers a recent fight scene was, but a newcomer to the Cool Bombastic Adventure scene might be really excited when they pull off a cool special move and want to point it out.

I think this is why the recent D&D movie worked for a lot of people, because while the main characters all lampshade their lives to varying degrees, the way they do so makes sense for all of them. Edgin is a bard and storyteller so he has a slightly meta perspective on a lot of things, purposefully avoids playing along with certain narrative conventions and sometimes responds to other people's dialogue by critiquing their dialogue instead of just responding normally; Holga doesn't really care to understand how the world works and so keeps pointing out that they should just use magic to solve their problems, which is probably the most popular lampshade in the whole genre; Doric and Simon don't get a ton of time to shine character-wise, but they'll both occasionally poke holes in the pretense of the story they're in. The thing that makes this all work is Xenk, who plays absolutely every moment completely 100% straight and is entirely immersed in the objectively ridiculous setting of D&D. Same goes for most of the villains, except for Forge, who's probably the wackiest and most self-aware character in the entire movie, but in a way that makes him feel callous and disregarding of the people around him, like he's uninvested in the world not because he knows he's a fictional character but because he has too much money and power to care about anything. The ways each character does or does not lampshade their surroundings make sense for who they are as people and reinforce their characterization and place in the world instead of undermining it.

I recently watched a couple episodes of Stargate Atlantis and noticed something similar - the main character and, to a lesser extent, the rest of his associates from Earth have a tendency to make wry observations about his objectively bizarre life and the eccentricities of the people around him, which helps contrast against the extremely serious and businesslike Cool Space Warriors they keep accumulating, which helps make them feel (a) distinct from each other and (b) relatable considering all the weird stuff that happens. And the protagonist switches off the quips as soon as things start looking perilous for his team, so you never get the impression that they aren't invested in the story they're living, and as a result the various quips and lampshades come across more as a habit or a coping mechanism than a disruption to the narrative itself.

So basically I think you can get away with a lot of lampshades as long as the character doesn't feel like they know they're in a story.

[krispycreamcake]

sakamaki with a latin gf!!! pleasee

From author: I fucking love poc asks so much. Also to make this just a tiny bit easier on myself since I have writer's block rn, I'll just do something a bit short today

Sakamaki's with a Latin gf

Shu Sakamami

🎻- Slightly intrigued by the culture

🎻- Would honestly ask a couple questions if he was up to listening to you rant about your customs

🎻- Honestly likes the music you play sometimes (he has a playlist of Celia Cruz but shh)

🎻- Also yes yes before you shoot me, I know he likes classical but he seems like the type of guy who could appreciate the way how salsa music incorporates different instruments to have a specific kick to the genre

🎻- Once you told him about paella and now he asks you to make it for him almost all the time

🎻- Terrified of meeting your family and avoids it at all costs but tries to pretend it doesn't bother him

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️- Extremely educated on Latin culture

☕️- Asks you for local book recommendations

☕️- Genuinely wants your opinion on Japanese culture and how much of a difference it is compared to your own

☕️- Like Shu, he enjoys the music and if he had to pick he'd say Los Tres Diamantes was his favourite band from that genre

☕️- Invested in learning Spanish and takes pride in tackling another language alongside German

☕️- Since Latino culture is extremely diverse, he'd ask you about your OWN personal experience a lot of the times

Ayato Sakamaki

🏀- "Of course the great ore-sama could obviously get any girl he wants from around the world!"

🏀- Cocky asshole

🏀- See it's one thing being able to charm those around you that you share similarities with, but it takes something special to make someone completely different than yourself fall in love with you

🏀- And Ayato knows this, takes pride in it even

🏀- Hmm when it comes to how interested he is about the culture I'd give it 5/10

🏀- He cares about you more than all those fancy songs and food, but that is YOUR culture, so by extension he kinda has to care even if it's just a little bit

🏀- Asks you to speak Spanish and if you can't, he'll make fun of you for it and tease you by telling you to go learn a thing or two from Reiji

Laito

🃏- Lorddddddd

🃏- LORDDDDDD

🃏- Well before I start, let me just say that he's also educated on the culture just maybe not as much as Reiji, so anything he does is a means to tease you by playing coy and outright stupid

🃏- Just also would like to add, if you're from Brazil and happen to have a curvy body, he WILL comment on that

🃏- If you have a flatter body type, he'll tease (annoy) you by asking how come you don't have more uh curves in certain areas because that's supposed to be what you're "known for"

🃏- Trust me, he's only saying this to get a reaction, he loves you in his own weird fucked up way

🃏- But expect a lot of comments like that and at some point you'll probably need to tell him off

🃏- Midnight salsa dancing because well, do you honestly expect anything else from him?

🃏- One of his favourite things to do is watch those cliche over dramatic Spanish dramas and eats it up every single time there turns out to be a twin brother

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸- Like Ayato, doesn't care that much about the culture, rather his main focus is on you

🧸- Probably likes to hear you tell scary folklore stories from wherever you're from

🧸- And on that note, he already knows about La Lloronoa and Sihuanaba

🧸- Makes Teddy™ cover his ears when you get to the scary parts

🧸- Comments on how he'd still love you as a vengeful ghost and might even prefer it that way

🧸- Like Laito, he has this preconceived notion that you're meant to be curvy but doesn't care if you aren't

🧸- Besides if he only liked you for your body, he'd kill you and preserve you somewhere, hiding you away from the rest of the world where only he could see you. But he'd never do that riiiiiiight?

Subaru Sakamaki

🥀- Learns how to salsa when no one is around so he could impress you one day

🥀- Like Laito, he also watches those cliche Spanish soap operas but pretends he doesn't like them and think they're overrated (He's on the second season of Monarca)

🥀- Secretly interested in the culture and would ask Reiji for some books so he could learn more

🥀- Doesn't want to seem dumb in front of you but also doesn't want make a fool of himself by saying words he doesn't understand or asking dumb questions

🥀- If you speak Portuguese or Spanish, likes hearing you talk in your native tongue

🥀- Out of all the brothers, he'd be the one to treat you the most "normally" by not pestering you with questions or flaunting you off like a trophy he just won

🥀- You try to teach him your native language so you could both shit talk his brothers right in front their faces

From Author: It has been so long since I opened this app omfg but I've been busy with a lot of irl things so now I should have a bit more time to produce more content yay (I'm this close to jumping off a bridge with how dead the fandom is rn)

[physalian]

Creating Tragic Backstories Through Agency

This is absolutely a biased-as-hell post and not a rule of thumb for what you should do. This is me taking an opportunity to gush about my favorite method of designing backstories, which happen to end up tragic, and they’re something I’d like to see more of in fiction.

The thing that I want to see more of is, well, “tragedy”. Not necessarily the ‘terrible, awful, no good, very bad time’ aspect, but the ‘doom’ of one’s fate being sealed. Tragedy didn’t always mean a bad thing, just like doom didn’t. They meant an outcome that was inevitable, which usually happens to be a bad one.

So when I’m thinking about what TB I want to give a character, my very first thought is this: What single seemingly small choice did this character make that led them to this moment after snowballing out of control?

I like happenstance backstories as much as the next guy—little Orphan Annie an orphan by circumstance and not her own doing—but what I find equally if not more compelling is the character who is tragic because of their own choices. But instead of that choice killing them, it’s the genesis of the character they come to be.

Once again. This is not a rule. It’s just fascinating.

I wrote a character, princely type, and his tragic backstory contained a lot of awful shit. He was my therapy character and I put him through hell to make myself feel better, hence why that sci-fi WIP all over my posts remains unpublished. Half of his tragedy was out of his control: Mother, the queen, died suspiciously in childbirth with her only heir and his dad, queen consort, both never expected to have to do this without her and hates and blames his son for her death.

But the other half all began with a single choice. I had another character kind of like a warped Aladdin. This kid, his age, played on MC’s desperate need for a friend of any kind. Kid shows up, commits a crime against MC punishable by death, and MC breaks protocol (at like, 7 years old) and very publicly denounces the death sentence of another 7 year old. Kid takes this pardon and absolutely runs with it, manipulating what MC thinks is a genuine friendship into an extremely abusive power play all to get the throne, and MC can’t do shit about it.

The point was that it was MC’s humanity and compassion, and how that was taken advantage of, that was the foundation of his tragedy. This one choice, to spare the other kid’s life because it was the right thing to do, completely ruins MC’s life and snowballs into so many other tragedies as he grows up.

I’m all for the dead parent cliche, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about a hero grappling with the consequences of their life unraveling because of one seemingly small choice, or a choice with seemingly only one good option. There’s something about a hero knowing that they are on this path because of decisions they made, and having to reckon with asking themselves if they would do it all again if given the chance. There’s just something about a hero blaming themselves for their circumstances, focusing on that one small act, when the big picture really can’t possibly all rest on their shoulders.

This is a very specific personality and backstory and is hardly applicable to every story you could tell, there’s just something about the agency of the tragedy that gets to me.

It doesn’t have to be necessarily big, either. Tragic characters like the divorced dad who’s divorced because he’s the one that cheated. The squad leader who made one bad call and got the rookie killed in action.

Choices that these characters would make, because it’s who they are fundamentally, over and over and over again even knowing what future was in store, whether that’s a selfless trait or a selfish one—the dad who still cheats because he’s got weak willpower, the squad leader who would still put the needs of the many first, the mission first.

This tends to work for characters who’ve had time to grow up and truly marinate in the repercussions of their actions. Kids who blame themselves get told by everyone around them trying to cheer them up that it couldn’t possibly have been their fault. An adult who’s had time to reflect and think and brood has cemented the idea that it’s their fault, in some capacity, and nothing is going to change their mind.

Perfect, poster boy example: Zuko.

Now I can’t speak for him and I don’t think the answer ever came in canon, but he fits that balance of “tragedy by circumstance” vs “tragedy by choice” perfectly.

Zuko’s circumstances being that though he’s the elder child, his sister is the ambitious prodigy and his dad is a power-hungry narcissist, whose machinations lead to Zuko’s mom murdering the current firelord so he can get the throne, which leads to her disappearance, which leads to Zuko having very little support systems, which leads to an incredibly fraught childhood.

Zuko’s choice, though, is the one everyone knows: To stand up for those soldiers at the war meeting, and to not fight his father in the Agni Kai. He probably knew at the Agni Kai that refusing to fight would define the rest of his life, however long it lasted, but I bet you he had no idea what would befall him at that meeting. It’s just who he is as a person, and I think he would do it all again, because to not would be a betrayal of his character.

Aang, too, his impulsive choice to run away during the storm wasn’t done knowing that he’d then survive the air nomad genocide (at least in the original). He was just angry and afraid and wanted some alone time that circumstances demanded came at the absolute worst/best moment possible. Aang would be tragic already being the last of his kind but being forced from the fight, like if he was knocked out or ordered to leave, wouldn’t hit the same. That he did it unknowingly just gives him so much more depth.

—

There is absolutely nothing wrong with TBs that are only tragedy by circumstance and you can get depth from other means. Orphan Annie isn’t any less valid because she had no control over her fate. Dead parents aren’t any less debilitating if they die in a house fire via gas leak, freak accident.

I just think one extra layer of depth and agency can propel a character that much higher.

[cipheramnesia]

There's something so satisfying about seeing a movie by filmmakers who know exactly what they're working with. Watching film that's groundbreaking and new and interesting is absolutely wonderful, don't get me wrong. However, watching something play out and slowly realizing that the crew knows all the ins and outs of the genre they're working in, seeing a team that's composed of people doing their job well and crafting a satisfying story without pretension - especially when I wasn't expecting anything remotely competent - is a cozy delight.

I know I've dragged out the dead horse of Cabin In The Woods multiple times for beating, but it's such a great example I need to bring it up again, because it so clearly has no concept of working in the horror genre, and doesn't understand the slasher subgenre at all. Meanwhile, the absurdly named Massacre Academy, with a deceptively bland concept of "clown mask killer returns for revenge" does not just understand every single part of horror and the slasher subgenre, it actively uses all of them against the audience expectations. While it's not completely free from every common genre flaw, it handles itself shockingly well for an obviously low budget exploitation film.

Out of the gate, it lets you know it plans to be a little silly, sets you up with expectations of only moderate realism. It's a film that is committed to the bit, and the bit is slasher cliches. However, woven through the metahorror humor is also a relatively unusual concept - the sequel to a movie which does not exist. This concept is what really puts meat on the bone, as it creates a smart mix of characters who have PTSD from the prior events, people who are smart about slashers in an in-universe way, and new characters who won't be as aware of the dangers at first. It's choice about the slashers' lives are probably the weakest element (typical "psycho killer" cliche), but it builds the sense of history throughout that I almost find myself believing "part 1" must exist (it doesn't).

There is no evocative, soulful acting or breathtaking cinematography, or complex metatextual story telling - this movie aims squarely at "believable enough to work" and successfully focuses on delivering a smart and interesting plot on that level. What this means is that once it gets rolling it starts serving up all of the types of characters you'd expect to see die violently during the film, turn the expectation completely around, and punch it in the face in a way that had me actually laughing with delight. And knowing how much it was playing with slasher tropes also ended up keeping me effectively in suspense the entire movie.

Is Massacre Academy a brilliant must see movie? Hardly, but it's good, and fun, and it makes me want to keep an eye out for whatever director Mark Cantu has in store for the future.

[galaxycunt]

He’s My Thing

Posting this on tumblr as well as I seen people do it and I wanna know what is better here or AO3 for folks?

Part 2

Enjoy!

You first met him in a bar, not caring who he was at first. He didn’t have a high bounty at the time, the annoying clown cracking jokes and jabs at any pretty face before he landed on you. You threw in a jab about his nose, thinking it was fake. That was the first scar he gave you, a broken glass slicing your cheek. You broke a few fingers, and got you both kicked out.

”Fuck you bitch!”

”Bite my ass!”

Pretty soon, Buggy made a real name for himself. So did you. The next time you met, you heard of a terrifying circus act in a town raider by pirates. Who else would it fucking be? You pretended to be a victim, picking the lock on your shackles while he monologued. The circus wasn’t all that spectacular, you wondered why he ever bothered with it at all.

Slipping through the crowd, you followed Buggy to his green room. Before he could react, you sliced his throat. Expecting blood, you hear a laugh instead.

”You-“

Recognition flashed in his eyes, “the bitch from that bar. Come back to finish the job?”

You sliced the arm he held around you, popping back into place like nothing happened.

”Is that? Y-You ate-,” you stuttered.

”Surprised?”

You didn’t think those even existed, your mind racing for your next move. It was made for you, Buggy stabbing your stomach. You been stabbed before, fighting through the shock. You stab him back, punching his nose for good measure. He let you go in pain, long enough to escape.

His arm flew to your throat, slamming you to the ground. You weren’t about to be killed by a fucking clown. Biting down on his arm, he loosened his grip enough for you to kick it away.

You never ran so fast in your life, figuring it was way too easy the way you dodged body parts. He was toying with you. You ran to the docks, jumping into the ocean. He didn’t follow you there, the stories were right. He couldn’t swim. You swam under the dock, floating as you heard him swear and stomp.

The salt stung, your ribs hurt. He was going to pay for that. He wasn’t going to be the one laughing anymore.

You hid again, months later. Another show, another town demolished. It made you sick, the more you did this job, the more you hated pirates. The more you hated him.

Buggy stood in the spotlight, in another life he’d be handsome. Sparkling eyes scanning the crowd for a victim. You locked eyes, the creased greasepaint spreading on his face with a smile.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! The incorrigible pirate hunter is with us yet again! Come on down, sweetheart.”

You smiled at him, “you can’t get rid of me that easy honey.”

He draped his arm around you, like you were both old friends. You’d believe it if he treated his friends like this anyway. With a flourish, he gestured to your act.

”Since you love knives so much, I figure this one is right up your alley.”

”I’m gonna make you eat that big, red nose of yours, clown.”

He laughed, and the adrenaline caused you to also. You couldn’t deny the rush chasing these pirates down gave you, Buggy was like a cat playing with a mouse. You just needed him to stick his hand in the wrong trap.

”I have to say, that scar highlights your face beautifully.”

“You ever find that pinky? Or is it still at the bottom of the ocean?”

He smiled turning to his audience, “now folks, this lovely assistant of mine has no fear of silly little knives so…it’s time to up the ante.”

Meat cleavers, how cliche. You willingly let yourself get tied up to the wheel, Buggy studying your face. Now he was the one thinking this was all too easy. You closed your eyes as the wheel spun, standing still as the blades hit the wood with a loud thunk.

”What you playing at? Huh?”

”Maybe I just like the show so much, I always loved the circus.”

He laughed, “of course you do. Is that all though?”

”Maybe I have something you want.”

”Go on.”

A knife landed near your head, you opened your eyes to face the pirate. He had one more left, he could aim it anywhere. You still liked your odds.

”The map your been looking for. A log pose too.”

The look on his face was worth it, he stumbled his throw causing him to hit your leg. You grit your teeth, a smile on your face. Buggy shouted for his crew to take you back to the ship. You never been on his before, circus themed of course. The crew’s doctor worked quickly, with frown letting you know the knife cut to the bone.

When you woke up in his cabin, your leg was gone. Of course it was. Buggy seemed to take and take and you got nothing in return. You considered your options carefully, wondering how you can kill the bastard once and for all. At the very least you could take his head and ask the marines to let you toss it into the ocean. Either scenario worked for you.

”Where’s my map?”

”You took my leg, Bugs. Let’s call it even.”

He gazed at your leg, a frown on his face.

“Sorry about that. I really am.”

You both knew it was a lie, but you felt weak. You needed to stay on his good side, at least for now.

”You’re the only devil fruit user I know, I knew what I was getting into.”

Saving the best for last right?

”You couldn’t let me go, I suppose your type never does.”

”Says the guy chasing after a fairy tale.”

He sat down on the bed, “oh it’s real alright. So about my map…”

”Buggy, let me rest. At least get a girl a drink first. Don’t glass me this time neither.”

He sighed, getting up to find a bottle of rum that he usually kept around. He toasted you before taking a swig, the both of you taking turns drinking.

“So why offer this to me anyway, hm?”

You smirk, “you know what they say, if you can’t beat them, join them.”

”Is that right?”

”Oh yeah, I seen your act plenty of times to know it needs work. I can make you shine, baby.”

He laughed, “tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

”What’s the matter, don’t like this thing we got going anymore?”

He leaned closer to whisper, “if all you wanted was a ride that’s all you had to say.”

”Think I got it bad for clowns, huh?”

”I think you got it bad for me.”

You had him right where you wanted him. Leaning forward, grabbing his scarf to pull him close.

”I think you gotta earn my forgiveness first, baby,” you said, pushing him away.

“And how can I do that?”

You briefly wondered if he was truly as flustered as he looked. You didn’t think he’d fold this quickly. You needed to test this out.

”Maybe…let me stay here awhile. Rest up. My map is hidden in a safe place. Maybe I can take you there if you play nice.”

You kissed his lips, Buggy stared at you like you were crazy. Before he said a word you held up your hand.

”But, hey. I’m tired, I have a lost limb to scream about now.”

You never told him what exactly were the magic words to make the map appear, the next few days you slept in his bed while you recovered. Buggy forced to sleep in his chair, you didn’t care, quick to motion at the wood leg someone on the crew carved for you.

He tried; buttering you up, training with you to become stronger, flirting endlessly. It was all annoying, you never spent so much time around one person before. You decide to see how far his begging will go, allowing him to share the bed with you.

One morning you wake up before him, the sunlight shining through the tiny window. Buggy was still asleep, facing your direction. It had been weeks, and you still had not really gotten to know him. He never questioned your change of heart, you probably both expected a stab in the back at any moment.

He was handsome, in his own way. You brushed the hair from his face, causing him to shimmy closer to you. You backed up, unsure of what he meant by that. You gazed at your hands, unsure of why you did that in the first place anyway.

With a groan, you swing your legs to the side, rubbing the nub gently. It was still taking some time to get used to, wishing you had his powers.

“You okay?”

“Go back to bed, Buggy. It’s cool.”

So he was a light sleeper after all, good to know. You couldn’t kill him yet, wondering if he’d be lulled into safety at all.

Your felt his eyes on you as you changed clothes. You let him think he was being sneaky, bending down on purpose to find your pants.

“Nice ink.”

“Bite my ass.”

”With pleasure.”

You both laughed, you throwing a shirt at his head. His smile was honest, cute even. This was going to be easier than you thought.

”Buggy, I have a map I want you to look over.”

”You mean?”

”Well,” you smiled, “a map to a map.”

He kissed you, “you have no idea what this means to me.”

You pushed him away, “thank me later.”

While he wasn’t looking, you wiped your mouth. He never done that before, men were too easy to trick. A guy like that was easy to mold into whatever you wanted.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

”Aye, aye. Captain.”

The way to the island you hid everything on was a long one. You planned this out carefully. Buggy didn’t know you had a sloop for you waiting, after you’d burn everything he worked for to the ground.

Buggy was none the wiser, letting you get closer. You never spoke about the two kisses shared, trying to find the right time. His lips on yours flustered you like no other, leaving you to chalk it up to nerves. He caught you staring at him more than once, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face permanently.

”What you doing here by your lonesome?”

You sighed, “needed some air. It’s nice to see the moon too, you know?”

He leaned against the railing, “yeah. Beautiful sight.”

You turned to see him looking straight at you, causing you to snort.

”Give me a fucking break.”

”Got plenty more where that came from, sweetheart.”

You slide your arms up his, “tell me, why keep me alive this long?”

”You’re crew, ain’t ya?”

”Before that.”

He nodded with a laugh, “oh that. Water under the bridge, bygones and all that shit.”

”Tell me.”

He looked shy, wringing his hands. Like he was trying to spit the words out, but couldn’t.

“If anyone’s gonna kill you. It’s me. You’re the uh, one that got away.”

You pushed him playfully, “give me a real reason.”

”You first.”

You inhale deeply, “you ruined my life. I mean, fuck Buggy. Look at me. I underestimated you, and look where that got me. You and your…goofy bullshit.”

“You’re not ruined.”

You huffed a laugh, “course not, you’re the only one who got this close anyway. You were my first, in a way.”

”Interesting.”

”Don’t read into it too much,” you spat.

You turned to go to bed, dreading him following you. You had to stick to the plan. Make yourself less of a threat. He stopped you, gently holding your wrist. Before you could say anything, he kissed you. Slipping your tongue in his mouth, you clung to his jacket.

Eventually he pulled back, eyes scanning your face. You kiss again, Buggy gripping your hair this time. He led you down below deck, to your bed.

He took his time with you, roaming every inch of exposed skin. Your eyes peeled open, making sure his was closed. You checked to see if your knives were close, just in case. You weren’t expecting the shove he gave before crawling on top of you. His hands quick to unbuckle and unbutton everything you had on.

“H-hold up. Stop.”

”What, what‘s wrong?” he panted.

“What are we doing?”

”What I wanted to do years ago,” he dove for your neck, nibbling on an ear lobe.

You couldn’t help the moan from escaping, refusing to let go of control, you worked on his own clothes. Soon you became a tangle of limbs, you kicking off your pant leg the best you could off your shoe. It was a complete mess, he didn’t care at all. It was like you were the only thing in the room.

“Take those stupid gloves off,” you said.

He did so in a flash, massaging a nipple. His fingers brushed against a scar, from someone that wasn’t him, but you let him think whatever he wanted. Your fingers did the same, the healed bullet wound on his side was from you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

”Bet you say that to all the bounty hunters.”

”Only ones naked in bed with me, which should happen more than it does. Eh, what can you do?”

You roll your eyes, wishing to shut him up. You gave his cock a few strokes, which seemed to do the job. Buggy unraveled before you, you liked seeing him this way. Your victory short lived, as he found your clit. You weren’t going to praise him for a good job, and he was determined to make it happen.

He was edging you closer, your movements getting sloppy. You moaned again, letting yourself have this release.

“That’s it. Cum on that shit.”

You pulled him closer, ready to lose your mind. Buggy encouraged you, kissing and biting your neck. You came and he kept going, fingers slipping inside you. You slapped his chest, but he didn’t let up thrusting his fingers.

”Buggy fuck me right now.”

”Yes, ma’am.”

He rammed into you, unpleasant until he lifted up your hips. He was hitting your sweet spot, and you hated how much fun you were having. You bit his lip as you kissed him, Buggy was louder than you expected in bed. Moaning at every thrust and bite and pull.

“Can I cum in you?”

”What? No, no. On my chest. Or something. Not in me.”

He mumbled an apology, speeding up. The feel of him sliding out sent shivers down your spine, his cum messily spilt all over you.

He kissed your lips gently before getting up to clean you off. Looking down you groaned at the make up and cum all over you. You were gross, he was gross.

Ships didn’t have showers, you cleaned up the best you could with a towel and bucket. You almost didn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror, a blissed out face looking back at you. You wanted to smash it.

Retuning under the covers, Buggy cuddled close to you, kissing you sweetly. You didn’t get it, couldn’t understand it. Was the sea really that lonely?

You let him hold you as you fell asleep, still tangled up with him in the morning. You almost didn’t want to get up, trapped in the warmth. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t name it. He held you close to his chest, and you didn’t mind.

”Hey baby.”

You sighed, “hey.”

He gently stroked your cheek, his eyes gazing at you in a way that made you squirm. You rested on his chest, facing away from him. He didn’t seem to care, petting your head.

”How much longer to my hidey hole?”

He chuckled, “be there in a day.”

You smiled warmly, “perfect.”

”Oh yeah? Any genius plans in that head of yours?”

You pushed him off you, twirling your hair, “I dunno, any reason we should be leaving this bed anytime soon?”

That seemed to set him off, lips roaming down your stomach. He ate you out like a starving man, you cursed yourself for enjoying it way too much. You wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off his face, riding his cock until he saw stars.

You didn’t like the way Buggy looked at you when you allowed him to cum inside you this time. Deciding that you couldn’t trust a thing he was going to say to you until you arrived at that island.

The rest of the day, he left you alone, stealing glances when he could. You felt pity for him, the cane in your hand reminded you of your resolve. Buggy was going to pay.

As night fell, he found you on the deck again. His arms wrapped around your waist this time. You leaned against him, waiting for him to speak first. Feeling his heart beat loudly in his chest, caused yours to match. You awaited a blade, but it never came.

”I haven’t been to the Grand Line since I was young.”

”How’d you survive that one?”

He laughed in your ear, “I served on a pirate crew. I think you can guess which one.”

This surprised you, “no shit? Roger pirates, makes sense. You people are hard to kill. I had no idea.”

”I’m an open book baby, just gotta ask.”

”So why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You twisted around to face him, inches from his face. He took you in, a dazed look in his face as he remembered your past.

”And snuff out the most beautiful person in the world? I’m bad, baby, not evil.”

”Fuck you, Buggy.”

”I…I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “no, fuck you. You can’t keep dancing around this!”

”You started it! Why can’t you just fucking let go then?”

“No one makes a fucking fool out of me!”

”No one is!”

You slap him, the shock letting you wiggle out. He shouted after you, running to the cabin before he could stop you from locking it. Your leg hurt, causing the dam to finally break. You were a failure, you let some fucking clown be your undoing. You collected bounties all over the East Blue, you even got a card from Baroque Works.

How stupid are you?

”Hey, please don’t cry,” said the voice behind the door.

”Look I-I’m trying okay? I’m making it up to you, aren’t I? How about next town, you’re the main act? I can teach you to juggle!”

”Stop making it seem like I’m some stupid little girl. I vowed to destroy you, got it?”

He was silent for a few moments, you groaned. Why were you acting like a little bitch? You couldn’t kill him now, you weren’t in the state to take on his whole crew.

”Baby, let me in please.”

You unlocked the door, gesturing to the empty room. Buggy carefully sat on the bed, patting the space beside him. You let him hold your hands as he crafted what to say.

”Look, I get it. I get betrayal. But I won’t, I promise. The past, is the past. But you and me, this thing now? That’s all that matters.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, an easy fuck and he’s suddenly so into you? How stupid did he think you were?

”You were a worthy enemy, and you’re so much more now.”

You smile, “sure.”

”I mean it.”

You could probably kill him now, the ship will arrive in the morning. Slip out before anyone knows. Make him pay for everything.

You kissed him, Buggy humming with joy. You’ll miss his eyes, and the rest of his stupid face. You fuck again that night, Buggy promising you the world. A few sweet praises, and he figured all was forgiven.

You convinced him to travel just the two of you, a promise of a little fun. As expected, he agreed. You had a map from someone long ago, the log pose you won in a fight. Buggy couldn’t do the things you could do. He never could.

”You wanna dig for it now? Buried treasure, pretty clever huh?”

”You ain’t helping?”

You motioned to your leg.

”Oh, shit. Sorry.”

He dug for 20 minutes, making him good and tired. Silently you pulled out the pistol hidden in your coat.

”Baby, how far you dig this fucking thing anyway?”

He paused when he heard that click. Turning around slightly, he didn’t see the shot coming. With a scream he fell down, you swung hard, the shovel quickly chopped off his head.

”You bitch! You fucking bitch!”

”Oh shut up, Buggy! You were gonna kill me anyway!”

”No I wasn’t! I might now you goddamn cunt!”

You shook his head, “whatever. I’m collecting that bounty.”

He screamed in a rage, his detached body struggling to stand up. You looked toward the shore, you had time to drag his body to the sea. He wouldn’t get up now.

His head fell silent, you glanced down to see the heart break on his face.

”Oh fuck off, don’t act like it meant anything.”

”Sure.”

”Oh what? Like you mean it? Like you actually cared about me at all?”

”I did.”

You shook his head, “I lost my leg! I lost my strength! You took it from me!”

”You took my heart and now my head, guess we’re even now!”

”You better not say what I think you’re gonna say!”

He spat at you, and causing you to cry out toward the sky.

”To think I let myself believe you were different.”

“You did this to me, Buggy.”

He winced, still feeling his body getting cold now. He looked up at you, you refused to meet his eyes.

”Do me a favor huh? Before I kick the bucket.”

”What?”

”Kiss me, one last time.”

You held his head up to your face, the sadness in his eyes you couldn’t bear to see. Tears rolled down his face as you kissed him tenderly. Reluctantly, you separated.

”I love you,” he whispered.

You set him in a bag as you readied your ship. Glancing back at the head of the man you seemed tied to by fate. Did he mean what he said? Did you love him too?

You burst into tears, running as fast as you could with the bag in your arms. You opened it up, so he could attach again. With surprise, Buggy watched as you carried him to the boat. You apologized between sobs, blood wetting your fingers.

You didn’t explain to the ship’s doctor what happened. Buggy never giving it away himself. You were going to die for this, and you accepted it. Maybe that was all that needed to be done to be free of him forever.

You didn’t leave his side, just like he didn’t leave yours. You should’ve known better, it was there in front of you all along.

He woke up late at night to you sleeping on the chair bedside. Various emotions swirled inside him as he gently nudged you awake.

”Buggy, oh thank god!” you rubbed his arm, “how you feeling?”

”Fine uh, care to explain what the fuck was that?”

You blush, shrinking in the chair. How were you ever coming back from that?

”I…had a plan. And a back up, in case it didn’t work out.”

”Was there even a fucking map?”

“Yes, for me more than you.”

You stared at each other, afraid of each other now. You desperately wanted things to go back to what they were. Carefully you hooked his hand with yours. You placed something in his palm.

He scoffed at your gift, his missing pinky.

”Get the fuck out.”

You nod, “that’s fair. Buggy, I…did you mean it? What you said?”

He swallowed hard, “does it fucking matter?”

”Yes,” you whisper, “because I do. Even if you don’t, I do.”

The tears fell again, Buggy turning his head away. You stand up, slowly heading out the door. You knew how to make this right, hoping he wouldn’t hoist the anchor as soon as you were gone.

In the pitch black dark, you finished up where you started. The pain in your leg was nothing compared to the one in your chest. You hobbled pathetically back to the cabin, looking the sorriest you ever felt as you presented what you promised.

”I can fuck off forever now, or…”

”Or?”

You swallow a nervous laugh, “I can make it up to you. You can even shoot me back.”

He laughed, “I got all my pieces with me now. Guess that’s payback enough.”

You nod, “permission to stay?”

”Yeah, sure.”

He didn’t look at you, and you decide against coming closer.

“I’ll just go find a place to sleep…”

”No, don’t. You don’t have to, not with your bum leg.”

”Buggy…I’m sorry.”

He motioned you over, letting you drape an arm over him.

He closed his eyes, “we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

”Oh, okay.”

He held your hand to his lips, “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

You let out a sigh of relief, easing into the mattress. Soon enough sleep claimed you, body and mind ready for whatever you got coming to you. All that mattered in this moment was Buggy in your arms.

You made it through the night alive, still shaky from the events that unfolded. Buggy pulled you closer, not wanting to wake up. He was going to be the death of you, one way or another.

[hongcherry]

Helllooooo !!! How are you ? Hope you're doing good !

I've read your writings and DAYUMN ! YOU'RE THE BEST! All your stories got me really good and I love it ! and here I just want to ask for a request if it's still open :') Jimin x reader oneshot/drabble something like friends to lovers, reader's first time but she's not innocent coz she read spicy books. maybe like she's reading a spicy chapter and tend to ask about it with him and it led to confessions, dom!jm & aftercare (like detailed aftercare). you can make it how explicit you want 🤸‍♀️ You're so good in writing so i thought should ask for a smut :') I'm sorry and thank you in advance

📖 Pairing: bestFriend!Jimin x Reader (afab)

📖 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff; Best friends to lovers

📖 Warnings: Reader's a virgin, protected sex, p in v, soft sex, thigh riding, fingering, aftercare, pet names (kitten), breast play

📖 Word Count: 3.4k

📖 Betas: @wooahaeproductions and @the-boy-meets-evil, thank you both for looking it over and giving me your thoughts on the fic! 🥰

📖 Author's Note: Awh, anon, thank you so much for reading my works! I really love knowing people enjoy my writing style! I apologize for the long wait. I hope you like it 😊

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He runs his hands over my bare chest.  His touch is gentle, and I can feel my skin light on fire. Even though the fire burns, I can’t get enough of it.  I grab his hand and press it harder against my breast, moaning into the kiss at the feeling. All my thoughts are about him. It’s just me and him in this small world.

“That’s so cheesy,” you huff to yourself.

“What’s so cheesy?”

You jump at the sound of your best friend’s voice.

“When did you get up?” you ask as you try to calm your racing heart. You slot your bookmark in your book before closing it.

Jimin glances down at the title and smirks. “Another one of your romance novels? What’s this one about? Poor girl finds rich prince and they live happily ever after?”

Jimin’s wearing a tight-fit shirt that has your eyes averting quickly.

You had never thought of Jimin in that way until recently. You’re noticing the little things of his physique. Like the way his muscles flex whenever he rakes his fingers through his hair, or how his thighs look huge in those stupid skinny jeans he likes to wear.

“No,” you argue. “But even if it was, that trope is still golden.”

“It’s cliche,” he retorts while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Not all cliches are bad,” you respond.

Jimin smiles as if he knows something you don’t.

“Whatever,” you lamely reply. “Thank me for letting you spend the night then get out.”

“Kicking me out so soon? Is your book that good?” He grins like he knows your dirty secrets.

Your cheeks heat as you’re reminded of the intimate scene you stopped at. You push aside the thoughts trying to invade your mind.

“A lot better than bickering with you,” you huff.

“Let me stay longer and I’ll pay for lunch,” he bargains.

Sighing, you agree. There’s no true reason to kick him out besides wanting to finish your book in peace. Though, Jimin’s usually good at becoming a fly on the wall once he gets situated. You figure you just need to wait twenty minutes and then you’ll both be doing your own things.

As you expected, you and Jimin are sitting on the couch thirty minutes later. He’s scrolling aimlessly through his phone, while you’re engulfed in your book.

His hands grip my hips tightly as I roll them along his thigh. Each glide has my clit brushing his muscles, and my moans don’t seem to stop. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Getting all worked up over my thigh.”

Does that actually feel good?

“Does what actually feel good?” Jimin asks.

If you were in an animated show, you’re sure you’d be the cat that leaped fifteen feet in the air after being startled.

“What?” you question, heartbeat picking up.

“What’s supposed to feel good?” he rephrases.

“It’s nothing,” you try to dismiss, but Jimin doesn’t let you. In one swift motion, he’s plucking the novel out of your hands and scanning the page quickly.

Jimin’s eyes widen slightly at the words, then glances at you. He looks shocked to see you reading something so vulgar. Though that expression soon turns into something more mischievous.

“You’re reading this while I’m sitting next to you?” he observes.

Your face warms. It was no big deal. It’s just a book. Sure, it’s more scandalous than others, but it’s still just a book.

You shrug to act as if you’re unbothered.

Jimin smiles and hands you back the book.

You take it slowly, eyes staring at his face to see what he’s thinking.

“Don’t let me stop you then,” he says before picking up his phone again. He contorts his face back in a neutral expression—giving you the impression he doesn’t care about your spicy novel anymore.

Inhaling deeply, you look at your book; however, it’s hard to continue reading.

No matter how hard you try, you end up reading the same sentence over and over again. Damn you for thinking out loud accidentally.

You finally give up trying and look at your best friend.

“Does it really feel good to rub yourself on someone’s leg? Like, that just sounds silly,” you blurt suddenly.

Jimin’s eyes flick up from his screen.

“How should I know?” he asks.

“Aren’t you experienced or something?” you scoff, recalling his several one-night stand stories.

“I am, but you should ask someone who would be in your position.”

You hum in thought.

You’ve been best friends with Jimin for years and have talked about sex multiple times. Although it’s usually him doing the talking since you’ve never had it before.

Maybe it’s time to finally take advantage of the fact your best friend is a guy. You could learn a thing or two that could help you in the future.

“Okay, then answer this: Do guys actually find it attractive when girls squirt?” you wonder. You remember reading something about it in the last novel you picked up.

Jimin’s eyes go wide again. “Why are you suddenly asking me these kind of questions?”

“Well, you know… I’ve never done it, and I’m curious about stuff,” you begin to say. “You have experience, so you can help provide some insight. I might be less awkward when I finally do it.”

He blinks a few times then adjusts himself on the couch—appearing less stunned than a few seconds ago.

“Alright, I’ll answer your questions,” he announces.

You smile, grateful he’s not making fun of you or rejecting your request. You’re more comfortable asking him these questions than some random person on the street.

“Start with the one I just asked,” you remind.

“The answer is yes,” he simply replies.

“Really? Why? You just get soaked with… liquid.”

Jimin chuckles softly.

“It’s hot,” he shrugs.

“Hmph, okay,” you trail off as you think of your next one. 

“So, you’ve had someone rub against your thigh?” you ask, still caught up with the events in your book.

“Actually, no,” he chuckles.

Your eyes widen. “Really?!”

He laughs. “Just because I’ve had sex before, doesn’t mean I’ve tried everything.”

“So,” you say slowly, “you don’t know if it feels good.”

Jimin watches you attentively. He’s quiet for a few seconds too long but finally replies.

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

You scoff. “And who am I supposed to try it with? I guess I could use a pillow…”

“Try it with me.”

Your heart drops.

Did he just suggest you two…

“You’re kidding,” you state.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m serious. We've both never tried it, and since you’re so curious about it, might as well. You’re safe with me, remember?”

He had a point. You could see what this whole “thigh riding” hype was about with someone you could trust.

The big issue with this was trying to keep your feelings at bay. Day by day, they’ve been getting stronger. And part of you wasn’t sure if it was pure lust, or if you genuinely had feelings beyond friendship. Perhaps this was your chance to find out.

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then we’ll stop.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

“Then we’ll stop,” he repeats. “We’re both in a safe environment. No judgment. No teasing. We’re just trying something new together.”

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s try it.”

Jimin gives you a reassuring smile and situates himself better on the couch for you. Once he’s done, he gestures to come. The new position has them looking thicker, already igniting something in your lower belly.

You’ve felt it before while reading your books, but this time felt more intense.

You slowly make your way toward him. As soon as you’re within reach, he places his hands on your hips and rubs at them soothingly.

“Let’s take these off, okay?” Jimin suggests and tugs on the waistband of your shorts.

“Okay,” you agree softly, pushing the clothing down your legs until you’re left in your basic tee and underwear.

Jimin smiles at you, easing your nerves.

“Now, sit,” he says while tapping one of his thighs.

Nodding, you straddle the thigh he gestured to. Though rather than actually sitting, you hover above it.

Jimin places his hands gently on your hips and lowers you all the way down.

You expect to feel sparks in your body, but there’s nothing. It’s not as described in your book.

“You need to move, silly,” Jimin instructs softly. There’s no mockery in his tone; he’s just keeping the tone light to not scare you away.

“I—I’m not sure how,” you mumble, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Jimin nods and then pulls your hips forward once then backward.

The act causes your clit to be brushed, making your mouth fall open slightly. It takes Jimin to guide your hips a few more times until you’re getting the hang of it.

You’re slowly rolling your hips against his leg, hitting your sensitive area so much that you’ve started breathing heavily.

“How does it feel?” Jimin asks gently.

“G-good,” you reply. You’re beginning to understand how your character feels in the book.

“What about now?” he asks, and then he’s tensing his muscles.

You let out a small gasp at the new feeling and instantly grind harder. Your hands glide down his chest, feeling his toned torso before gripping the ends of the material. You clutch it tighter–anchoring yourself to him.

Jimin simply smiles at your reaction, continuing to clench and unclench his muscles until you’re whining something too low for him to understand.

“What is it?” he coos.

“I-I need more,” you speak louder, legs growing tired; however, the addiction to the feeling forces you to keep going.

“More?” Jimin repeats as he thinks about what you mean. “Oh.”

“Please, Jiminie,” you plead.

Jimin’s breath hitches at the look you give him.

“Are you sure? You want me to be your first?” he asks.

You nod frantically. “I feel safe with you.”

“Okay,” he says quietly before lifting you off him.

You whine again, but Jimin shushes you gently as he readjusts you on the couch so your back is pressed into the cushions. Jimin spots the wet patch on your underwear, smiling at seeing how worked up you got over riding his thigh. Gradually, he starts to remove your panties.

He bites his lips at your wet core, trying to suppress a moan. Jimin slowly runs his fingers through your slick folds, which causes your hips to buck once. He does this twice more to ensure his fingers are coated thoroughly with your arousal. Then, he’s rubbing your clit with his other hand as he gradually pushes one finger into your tight hole.

You gasp, walls tightening around his digit briefly before you’re mentally telling yourself to relax. You’ve touched yourself before, but it’s different when it’s coming from someone else.

Jimin’s soon inserting a second finger, then a third when you’re ready. Each finger stretches you out more than the last. He unhurriedly pumps his fingers, fingers rubbing your walls delightfully. He curls his fingers and brushes against a spot that has you gasping.

“Already doing so well for me,” he murmurs. 

His fingers begin to slide faster, rubbing the same spot until you’re moaning his name with shaky legs. You feel your walls grip his fingers, but before anything else happens, Jimin pulls away.

“Sorry, kitten, but I didn’t want you to come just yet,” he smiles, then stands from the couch.

You watch with rapt attention as he strips his lower half. The size of his cock has your eyes widening. It seems too big to fit, and there’s a small part of you that’s scared it’ll hurt.

Jimin senses your worry. “I’ll go slow. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“O-okay,” you agree.

“Good,” he replies, then takes out a condom from his wallet that was on the coffee table, and slides it on. You’re not too surprised he has one with him. 

While he does this, you sit up slightly and remove your shirt and bra.

Jimin eyes you, gaze roaming your bare body.

“Fuck, you’re so stunning,” he groans slightly and leans down. 

His lips meet yours in a languid kiss, gently parting your lips with his tongue. With his mouth still against yours, he pushes you back down onto the couch.

He settles himself between your legs, adjusting you slightly to accommodate him. Your arms wrap around his neck while he props himself up on either side of your head.

Jimin travels one hand down your chest and massages one of your breasts. You moan into the kiss, arching your back into his hand. He pinches your nipple carefully, causing you to squirm slightly.

Jimin chuckles, pulling away for a small breather, but then he’s on your mouth again.

Though you don’t mind. Jimin’s lips are addicting, and you could easily kiss him for the rest of the day.

His hand moves to your other breasts, groping and pinching while he kisses your lips swollen.

The need between your legs is growing. It almost makes you delirious with how badly you need him inside you.

“Please,” you plea softly against his lips.

He nods, pulls away from the kiss, and glides his hand down your body until it’s on his cock.

Jimin rubs his dick between your folds a couple of times before aligning the tip with your entrance. Ever so gracefully, he’s pushing the head inside, watching the way your pussy stretched for him.

You whimper, tightening your hold.

“Shh, just relax. I just need you to relax and breathe,” Jimin instructs softly.

You nod and do as he says. Jimin pushes in further, gradually inserting more of his length until he’s filled you up with everything he has.

He remains still, murmuring encouraging words and kissing you softly to distract you from any pain you feel.

After a while, you tell him to move. The feeling of his cock gliding against your walls has you seeing stars. The pain from the stretch has left and been replaced with pure pleasure.

Jimin takes his time with you. He’s moving so carefully that you reassure him he can move a little faster. So he does. He increases his speed, but it’s still at a pace that won’t hurt you. Just enough for you to feel more.

“How are you doing?” he asks, breathing heavier than before.

“S-so full,” you mumble. “This feels so good. You feel so good.”

Jimin smiles and pecks your lips. “You feel good, too.”

You grin back. Something in your chest blooms at his praise. You like knowing you’re making him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.

Jimin leans down to place open-mouth kisses against your neck. He continues to rock his hips as he sucks and nips on your skin. His tongue laps against those areas to soothe them before he moves to the next. 

After a while, he moves away from your neck and snakes a hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“Oh!” you exclaim, head pressing against the cushions roughly. The act makes the knot in your tummy tighter. Your legs begin to shake as your walls contract around his length.

“I-I think I’m close,” you say.

“Just relax and let go, kitten. I’m right here. I’ve got you,” Jimin reassures and increases the movements of his hips and fingers.

You close your eyes, mind zeroing in on the pleasure he’s inflicting on your body. The pleasing stretch of your pussy, the rubbing of his cock against your walls, the quick circles on your clit. It all pushes you over the edge.

Jimin curses under his breath as you climax around him. You’re shuddering under him; his name falling heavenly from your mouth. Jimin can’t last any longer and comes with you, filling the condom with his seed.

You hold onto Jimin as you slowly come down from your high. Sweat coats both your bodies, both breathing heavily from the intensity of it all. After a while, Jimin carefully pulls out.

You whine at the feeling, but Jimin eases you with a few rubs on your thigh.

Jimin leaves to discard the condom in the bathroom. You hear the water running and the sound begins to lull you to sleep. However, just as you’re teetering on the edge, Jimin’s picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

You see he’s drawn a bath for you both.

He slips you in first, then follows suit. He sits behind you while you sit between his legs—back against his chest.

The warm water feels good on your aching muscles. You didn’t even realize how sore you feel until now.

It’s silent for a long time, but just being near Jimin feels nice. He started to massage your body, laying a few kisses here and there as time passes.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he asks.

“For letting me try new things with you.”

He chuckles. “Well, what did you conclude? Does thigh riding feel good?”

“It did,” you murmur, “but what came after felt better.”

You half expect him to make an egotistical joke, but he doesn’t.

“I agree,” he smiles and pecks your neck.

“Do you feel awkward with me now?” you wonder. The idea of ruining a great friendship just so you could “try things out,” makes your mouth taste sour.

“No, I feel,” he pauses, “I feel closer to you.”

You glance back at him, causing his hands to slowly fall away from your body.

“Closer as friends or,” you trail off.

Jimin smiles shyly, eyes glancing away briefly. You admit that the idea of being with Jimin in a romantic way has crossed your mind before, but you never let it linger. It’s never been something you really wanted. However, you know if you actually sat down and considered it, it’d solidify the idea more. Right now you were fine with being friends.

Though, if the opportunity to be more ever arose…

“Do you like me, Jimin?” you ask.

Jimin’s eyes grow at your question. “Of course I do! This didn’t change anyth—”

“As more than friends?” you clarify.

He’s quiet again. You think you’ll have to ask again, but he finally speaks. “I think I’m starting to feel that way.”

Although you like the response, you wonder if he would feel the same if he hadn’t just had sex with you.

“Was the sex that good?” you tease, trying to get your answer in a discreet way.

Jimin shakes his head instantly. “No—I mean, yes. It was amazing, but I didn’t grow those feelings because of it. I—I started to like you more than a friend a few weeks ago.”

“Oh?” you express, half surprised and half relieved.

Jimin runs a hand through his hair nervously. “It was when you bought all those donuts for that group of high schoolers.”

You laugh and raise your brows. “Seriously?”

He shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s sweet,” you comment and lean back against him. This time, you rub his thighs soothingly. There’s no sexual intent behind your actions, just want to repay for the massage from earlier.

“Would you want to try to be something more?” he asks, hands resting on your sides.

There’s a fear that it won’t work out and your friendship will be over. However, you’ve already done something that could terminate your friendship. You’ve heard of exes staying friends, so maybe you and Jimin could be like that if things didn’t work out.

Jimin is a great guy. He’s caring, thoughtful, and loyal. Plus, he’s handsome and attractive. Even his “red flags” aren’t necessarily evil–unless you consider leaving the toilet seat up evil. There aren’t many reasons to deny him. Again, it’s not that you didn’t like him like that.

So, with a smile on your face, you nod. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Jimin says. You can tell by his cheery tone that he’s grinning like you.

“So, maybe next weekend can be our first date as a couple?” he asks. “If that’s too fast, just tell me.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Next weekend sounds perfect.”

Jimin hums, turning you carefully so you’re facing him. Then, he’s pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss.

You have a feeling you’re going to fall for Park Jimin embarrassingly fast.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[madelynhimegami]

To my knowledge, you like Puyo Puyo! But what do you enjoy most about it?

Honestly, it might be easier to explain my intoduction to the series. Ideally we'll get there in the end either way. You ever seen one of those "What I Played/What I Expected/What I Got" memes? My story is pretty much like one of those.

I don't remember when I started learning bits and pieces about it, or when Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine went from being itself to a Puyo game in a trenchcoat in my mind. But by mid 2017 I knew the aforementioned (I called the CPZ boss in Sonic Mania a Puyo boss on twitter when I played it), recognized Carbuncle, recognized Draco Centauros (thanks to a friend who is still a big fan of her), and had heard that there was some sort of story to it, but didn't know a lot of details.

Then in September of 2017, a friend of mine mentioned that he had been playing Puyo Puyo Tetris lately as his go-to "pick up and play" sort of game. I looked it up in the eshop, saw it was cheap, and thought a pick-up-and-play game was what I needed and bought it. Not that I knew shit about playing Puyo well, but I at least had some basic competency at Tetris to balance things out.

And hey, at least the story mode would be a good way to learn! So I dove in to the story and started playing.

I was expecting the story to be inconseqential to my enjoyment of the game. Something either generic or corny, with characters that ranged from "tolerable" to "painful anime cliche."

The thing that knocked me on my ass almost immediately was that the writing was actually funny, made better with the English cast's fantastic delivery.

Those are all from just the story's first chapter! The first one is from the prologue! The other two are from the third scene (couting dialogue before and after a round of gameplay together as one scene)! And it kept going!

For the record, even though I was picky with what to include, and stitching lines from the same scenes together, I still had almost fifty (50) funny moments I wanted to drop out of context, in a game with a rough total of two hours of story material collected to write this post. And then I had to narrow it down further just so I wouldn't hit the image limit too quickly.

Was it a little corny and awkward at points? Sure. Several voice actors had to grow into their roles. Plus, the impression I always had from the script-- an impression that's only gotten stronger the more I learn about this series and then come back to this game-- is that someone on the development team was not expecting this to be all that successful overseas. And not for no reason, since Puyo Puyo's tried to get its foot in the door in the west several times by this point. But the end result of this lack of faith was a localization team that tried very hard to make this game stand on its own merits with as little understanding of the games that had come before as possible. Which, honestly I think they did a pretty dang good job of! Especially since it didn't shy away from the hard-hitting stuff when it came. Which I'm going to intentionally leave even further out of context so as to not give away all of it.

There was also this line here, which was what first clued me in that the writing's quality wasn't an accident, that the writer is actually thinking all this stuff through:

Fun fact, the only people you will see in your dreams are people you have seen while you're awake. The parts of the brain responsible for dreams can't make up new faces, or throw together composites of preeviously-known ones. Hence, this question, which does in fact get answered in the next scene, in a way that made me go, "Ohhh, that's really smart, actually!"

But yeah. That was just this one game. It took me a few more years before I tried other games that had been translated, fan or otherwise, but the more I've played and the more I learn about these characters and their worlds, the more engrossed I get. It's a hyperfixation now. It seems like there's always something new I'm learning about it, but it's not overwhelming, it just feels like I'm knowing a good friend better and better. The modern artstyle is deceptively simple and very endearing, and so many of the characters are interesting and fun. And the current writer is just so galaxy-brained, I'm not even kidding.

The characters in the Puyo Puyo series are all morons. They're all crazy. But at the end of the day, they care about each other, no matter how little they want to admit it. And they all have their own theming to the magic they use. It's a lot of fun. From your standard-fair RPG spells, to cosmic forces, to math terms,

I can't recommend this series enough, no matter what your skill level with puzzle games is! There's something in it for everyone.

Unless you're looking for genuinely evil characters, I guess. Like, there are characters that are intimidating or sinister or threatening, but almost none of them are actually evil. Fraid the closest to that this series has is a(n as-of-now) gender-ambiguous Elon Musk with better hair in the Japan-excusive gacha game.

Further reading from the author (that isn't already on their tumblr):

[1]

[2]

[3]

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Congrats on 100!

Could I please have angst 06. “You never even cared about me.” mixed with fluff 05. Person A kissing person B in the rain. - with Jake please!

All I ask for is a happy ending!

Hi, Fe! Thanks for your congratulations! As requested here is your mix of Angst Prompt 6, “You never even cared about me” mixed with Fluff Prompt 5, Person A kissing person B in the rain. I hope you like it! The italicized parts are lyrics from the song Something's Gotta Give by Camila Cabello 🥰😘🤩

Something's Gotta Give

Like all the most cliche stories, it started with an arrangement. You’d joined the Dagger Squadron out of Naval Air Station North Island six months ago. You’d never thought you’d enjoy being in one place for so long, but you do. You’d quickly become close with Halo and Phoenix, the three of you bonding as the sole females in a squadron full of men. The three of you had been decompressing over beers and cocktails at the Hard Deck, avoiding the men while sitting at one of the tables. The conversation had started with sharing stories of how you’d gotten your callsigns. Callie had shared how she’d gotten the monicker Halo, and Natasha had shared how she’d gotten Phoenix. After their cool stories, you’d felt ashamed, sharing that you’d gotten Lily for your Lily print Lanyard and notebook during flight school. That had just been the start of the night. The three of you had each downed a drink, plus a shot of Tequila apiece when Callie pulled you and Natasha forward conspiratorially.

“Okay. So we’ve all been in a couple of relationships, right?” Her voice was hushed and mischievous.

You and Natasha had shared twin excited looks, grinning and then nodding at her.

“What’s your experience been with orgasms, then?” She’d pulled the two of you forward closer, “Cause I didn’t actually cum unless it was with a woman. The men who I’ve dated couldn’t have found my clit if it had been pointed out to them.” You couldn’t help how you giggled as Natasha shared her experience. Your face had been flushed with laughter and the alcohol you’d consumed when they’d turned their gazes to you. 

You’d stuttered out how you’d never cum at all with a man, or in fact, by yourself, not expecting a heavy arm to wrap around your shoulders or a Texan drawl to purr in your ear, “Well, darlin’, if you ever need a man to help you with that, look my way.”

Nat and Callie’s eyes had gleamed dangerously, and by the end of the night, you’d found yourself a very willing participant in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Jake Hangman Seresin. 

His cocky confidence hadn’t been a sham or show. He knew what he was doing, and once you knew what you’d been missing, you’d chased after your orgasms as single-mindedly as you approached flying. Your downfall was your damned bleeding heart. You don’t know when or how, but you’d fallen in love with Jake. You'd found him to be sweet, kind, and generous. When he wasn’t playing the part of ‘The Hangman’, he was incredibly easy to befriend and even easier to adore. You wanted nothing more than to have him in your bed all night instead of seeing him get dressed after you’d cum together. It had gotten to be too much. How could you take it anymore? 

That decision is what brings you to now as you wait outside his apartment door on a rainy November night. You’ve been agonizing over what to say to him, though you guess you know what to say when the door opens, and a blonde model wannabe strides out. It’s like a scene out of the movies, you, in your frumpy jeans and t-shirt, looking at this girl in her sparkly dress and heels walking out the door as Jake stands in the doorway wearing only gray sweatpants.

“Hey.” Your voice is quiet as the girl walks away. 

“What’re you doing here, Lily Flower?” Your eye roll is harsh as you step into his space. He stinks of overly sweet perfume, the scent making you feel even sicker than you already are. 

“We need to talk.” You can see something new in his eyes before he steps aside to let you into the apartment.

You can see the emotions warring in his eyes as you sit on the edge of his sofa. He’s pacing in front of you, running his hands through his already disheveled hair. “You’re here, Lily Flower. So talk to me.”

“Jake. We need to stop this.” Your voice rings out like the crack of a whip in the silent apartment. He stops moving entirely, his hands falling to his side as he looks at you wide-eyed in the dim lamplight.

“Stop it?” You’re not expecting to hear the anguish in his tone. “Why?”

“I can’t keep doing this. I broke the first rule of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. I fell for you. Hard. And by the looks of the blonde that just walked out of here, it’s obvious that you don’t feel the same. Something's gotta give, Jake. Something's gotta break. But all I do is give, and all you do is take. Something's gotta change, but I know that it won't. No reason to stay is a good reason to go.” You can’t hide how your voice breaks in time with your heart as you spit the words out.

“I should have never agreed to this. You make me feel so good that I forget everything my brain is screaming at me about you. I ignore all the warning signs, and it’s ripping me apart.” You can’t hear anything other than the hitches in your own breathing as you stare into his luminescent green eyes. “You never even cared about me. I was just a means to an end. A way to get off and another notch on your bedpost.” You’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself as you breathe raggedly.

“You knew what you were getting into, you know that, right, darlin’?” His voice is cruel as he rips into you. “I should know by now. You should know by now. We should know by now. You walked into this of your own volition. So how is it on me if you fell in love? Did I ever once tell you that I would stop seeing other people?”

“No.” Your voice is quiet. “Then what was the point of the kisses and soft touches? The pet names? Calling me your good girl? Any of that?” Your chest burns as you speak. “I’m not completely innocent, Jake. And I’ve never heard of any of that being a part of an arrangement like ours.” You’re standing now, walking towards the door.

“So that’s it, huh? I was wrong, you were too. You’re leaving now. We’re done? Three months of the happiest I’ve ever been, and you’re ending it?” Your legs buckle at the pain in his voice as you yank the door open. Your voice is stripped bare as you return his words. “If these three months were the happiest you’ve ever been, why haven’t you said anything? Why aren’t you asking me to stay? If you feel anything at all for me, why aren’t you doing anything? Why aren’t I in your arms right now?” You wait a few beats, but you walk out the door when he doesn’t move and just stands there.

It’s never been harder to walk away. As you step unseeingly through the puddles and unlock your car, it's pouring down. You break, sitting in the leather seat, sobbing with your head against the steering wheel. It’s silent in the car, only your stifled gut-wrenching sobs and the tapping of the raindrops on the windshield. You’re not expecting the door to be yanked open, though. Or to find yourself crushed against a chest, you know too well. His arms are like steel as they wrap around you. You melt into him, crying even harder now that you can feel Jake around you. His lips press against the top of your head, and you can hear his breath stutter as he holds you. 

“I’m not letting you go, Lily Flower. You’re under my skin, too, sweetheart. I want you in my arms and in my bed. Every day and every night. You’re not the only person who fell, darlin’ and fell hard. I did too. I was just too stubborn to tell you the truth. I resorted to bringing home girls like the one you saw leave to try to get you out of my head. It didn’t work. It hasn’t worked. I don’t think it ever will.” His hands are gentle as he pulls away from you, brushing tears from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You slip out of the car seat, shut the door, and stand in the pouring rain facing him.

“So, where do we go from here?” Your voice is hoarse as you look into his eyes.

“I want to do what I should have before this. Let me take you out? Let me show you how precious you are? Let me show you how much I love you?” His jaw is clenched as he stares at you, water dripping down his torso. 

You nod once, abortively, before leaping into his arms. The kiss he presses to your lips is all-consuming. It sends heat through your veins, and you kiss him back just as hard. When you part, you’re fighting for breath. Jake sets you carefully back down on your feet, watching in the rain as you open the door again and grab your purse as well as your car keys. His smile is sweet as you lock the car and take his hand in yours.

“Take me to bed, Cowboy.” You’re smiling at the look on his face. “I love you.”

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