#I gave up and made breakfast and coffee

[dickbaggins]

not my dumbass thinking I can get up for the hvac guy at 8am and then go back to bed cause it’s 10am and no hvac guy

[simpforboys]

surprise! (2)

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: reader and drew shoot the ‘perfume’ music video!

warnings: fluff, swearing, sexual themes but no real smut, kisses

‘perfume’ by del water gap

part one , part three, part four

It was bright and early on a Wednesday in December.

You had been up since six am to be on set, get costumes all organized, makeup done, hair done, and just make sure your vision was really coming along how you wanted it to.

After all, 'Perfume' was a big deal to you, now even more so due to the fact that your dream man was going to be your on-screen lover.

When Drew finally showed up at eight am, almost exactly on the dot, he was a little disorganized due to not getting as much sleep as he should have the night before.

You were talking to the director, clearly deep in the discussion as you explained your vision as best as your chaotic brain could.

"Drew is here," your manager came walking over.

Fuck.

You looked over, seeing Drew standing awkwardly by the trailers as he looked around at the film location.

It was pronounced you had chosen to do more of a countryside feel, the old farmhouse that had people constantly going in and out of it in order to set up for later scenes.

The location was beautiful, though. Grass, sand, hills, and for the actual land, it was quiet.

"Hey, good morning."

You walked over to Drew, trying to hide your pounding heart and the bags under your eyes (because, obviously, you hadn't been able to sleep the night before).

"Good morning." Drew looked at you, a small smile on his tired face.

"Are you hungry? We have breakfast and coffee over here," you guided Drew over to the food station, hands shaking with nervousness.

"Coffee sounds good, yeah." Drew murmurs, trying not to stare at you in your outfit.

You had chosen to wear blue overalls with a black long-sleeve shirt, and brown cowboy boots to fit into the countryside vibe you were going for.

"Sorry, I barely slept last night."

Drew shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"No, you're good. You just... look good."

Your eyes widened slightly at his compliment, your face feeling hot. God, why did he have to be fucking sweet?

"I don't normally wear this shit," you tried to deflect off of it and make a joke.

Drew smiled, shaking his head softly as he took a sip of the hot coffee.

"I'm assuming we're going to be cowboys?" He teased.

You shrug, a small smirk curling onto your lips.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give everyone cowboy Drew." You joked back, instantly feeling a little embarrassed.

Being hyperaware and anxious was absolutely not helping anything about any and all interactions with him.

"Okay, so you're welcome to help yourself to anything. I have to film some solo shots, but probably in around thirty to forty-five minutes, the costume lady will come to get you."

You spoke, avoiding looking at him.

Drew hummed, watching you get all nervous and embarrassed. As much as he wanted to reassure you that you were fine, he couldn't deny how amusing it was to see you get all shy around him.

"Thank you," he murmured.

While you went off to shoot some solo stuff, Drew was in the trailer as the ladies gave him some makeup and fixed his short hair.

You wanted him to wear blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a plain white shirt that had some dirt on it to make the appearance that he had been working outside.

By the time Drew was dismissed, you were finishing up filming. Staring at the footage that was just shot, your song playing in the background as you stood around the property or lip sung.

Glancing over and seeing Drew in the damn outfit you picked made your heart physically flutter.

He looked good.

You would definitely be feeding his fans (and yourself) content.

“How do I look?” He walked over to you, a small smirk on his face.

“Good… yeah, uh, good. Exactly how I envisioned.”

Why the fuck were you so nervous? Why the fuck was he so handsome and intimidating?

He hummed, wanting to tease you a little more before the director cut in.

“Okay, so you two are going to be sitting in the truck. Drew will be driving with Y/n in the passenger seat. When I say ‘go’, I want Drew to slowly reach over and hold her hand. Look at each other with soft, warm, loving eyes.”

The director says. The two of you nod in agreement, getting into the truck.

Drew placed his hands on the wheel as you looked out the window. The filming location was genuinely so pretty, and you were very pleased with your decision.

The camera man slid into the backseat with the big camera, making sure the angles would all be right.

“Okay, three, two, one… action!”

You continue to stare out the window as Drew drives the truck along the grassy pathway, ‘Perfume’ playing in the background.

And I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now

You tried not to have your breath hitch when you felt his large, warm hand grab yours and intertwine your fingers.

Glancing over at him, your eyes met his gorgeous blue ones, a genuine look of affection filling your gaze, mirroring his.

But his was probably fake, he’s an actor after all.

Drew gave you a soft smile, which caused a small grin to curl onto your lips.

“And cut!”

‘Perfume’ cut off, but you were hyperaware of the way Drew didn’t immediately pull his hand from your’s.

In fact, you were the first to pull away, nearly shitting your pants at the way your hand tingled.

Drew cut the engine of the car, the director coming to the passenger side window as he leaned against it.

“That was really good, you could feel the tension in the gaze. For the next shot, we want Drew to get out of the car with Y/n to follow. Outside the car, start walking up towards the house, when Drew is going to place his hand on your waist and pull you towards him. Share a passionate kiss, and press her against the door.” The director said.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Sounds good,” Drew hums, glancing briefly at you.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your face felt warm as you nodded in agreement.

‘Perfume’ started playing in the background again, the next scene about to start.

“Okay… three, two, one… action!”

'Cause I wanna do all of the things, baby, I said I wanna do with you… 'Less this is a lie and I don't know myself like I thought…

Wait, this is a mess, I could be wrong, I could be so damn mistaken

Both you and Drew got out of the car, a sheepish smile on both of your faces as you start walking towards the house.

Your heart stammered in your chest when you both stepped onto the porch and his large hand snaked around your waist, tugging you firmly into him.

He dipped his head down, capturing your lips.

You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey.

Immediately, you both melted into the kiss. Your hands were on his jaw and the back of his neck, his other hand going to rest on your lower back, just on top of your ass.

Drew almost forgot where he was for a minute as he slipped his tongue into your warm mouth.

He pressed your back against the front door of the house, you pulling him down so his body is flush against yours.

Fuck.

You were both thinking it.

“And, cut!” The director called.

You were both so raptured into the kiss neither of you heard it immediately.

“Cut!” The director called again, trying to hide his snicker.

Drew slowly pulled his lips away from you, his hands sliding off your body, making you feel cold.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His blue eyes bore into yours.

“You two take five, we needa get the bedroom all ready for the next shot,” the director said.

You moved away from the door to sit on the front patio furniture of the house. Your lips were tingling, mind racing at the thought that you just made out with your celebrity crush.

Drew looked sheepish and a little embarrassed that he let himself get so into a kiss. It was definitely a first for him.

“You want a water or anything?” Drew asked you.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you,” you swallowed. You were still feeling a little breathless from what just happened.

By the time Drew came back with your water, the director had also returned.

Both you and Drew followed the man into the back bedroom of the old farmhouse. It was bare, with the basic furniture of a wardrobe, bed, and nightstands.

You wanted it to be basic, you wanted it to add the detail into the story you were trying to convey.

"So, we're going to set the camera up right at this angle. Drew push Y/n back onto the bed and climb on top of her, still kissing. Only break the kiss so you can both pull your shirts off. Then we're going to cut it into a birds-eye view. Sound good for now?" The director hums.

Oh. Drew was going to see you in your bra.

You might have forgotten about that when you came up with ideas for the music video.

Drew nods, his eyes flickering over to yours, meeting your gaze before you both quickly look away. Why was he so nervous?

He had seen boobs, he had seen women in bras. Maybe it was the fact that he was going to see yours was driving him a little crazy, making him forget all about his professional side for a moment.

You unbuttoned your overalls at the top so it would be easier to pull your shirt off for the scene.

"Three, two, one... action!"

But I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now, I'm picturing you right now

With nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

The familiar beat of your song and lyrics came on, but you paid absolutely no attention to it when Drew kissed you again.

He flopped you back onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly. But neither of you dared to disconnect your lips, his tongue slipping in your mouth yet again.

A very small, faint whine left your throat when he pulled away to tug his shirt off. No fucking way you just did that.

Unbeknownst to you, the small whine made Drew's entire body go rigid. His mind was starting to drift into what you would sound like actually in bed.

You arched your back up, trying to remember that there was a giant camera on you both. You pulled your black long-sleeve up and over your head, eyes staring up at Drew.

The way his pupils dilated more, that gorgeous blue swirling into a deep sea color. Fuck. You were both ruined.

He immediately connected your lips back to his, both your minds a state of pure need. But before anything else could happen--

"Cut!"

The word "cut" was starting to become your least favorite thing in the entire world. Drew pulled back, still hovering over you.

You finally let your eyes drift down to his bare torso, seeing those abs for the first time in person. But he wasn't the only one.

He tried so hard not to look, to be a gentleman, to be professional. But he felt his gaze slip down to you lying there in your bra, his mouth growing a little wetter.

"Y/n, spread your legs and let Drew lay in between them. When we say action, Drew start thrusting your hips as if you two are having sex. We'll keep the birds-eye view so it gives off the appearance that you two actually are."

As the director gives his next instructions, a set designer fixes the sheet to rest around Drew's hips, covering up the fact that you are both still wearing pants.

All you and Drew could do was nod. It wasn't really safe to speak, not when the sexual tension and chemistry between you two was so high.

Drew had filmed sex scenes before, it was a part of his job. But fuck. You were driving him insane, and you were barely even speaking.

You spread your legs as Drew shifted closer to you, trying to look anywhere but at your chest and face.

"Three, two, one... action!"

Call me in the morning, beg me in the night, I'll be over safely if you need it anytime

I'm picturing you right now, with nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

He had begun to softly move his hips, his mouth instinctively attaching to your jaw, kissing down to your neck. Your hands dug into his broad shoulders and back, trying desperately not to let out a real moan.

Your eyes were fluttered shut, legs tightening a little more around him. There was no real pleasure being shared, but both your bodies were on autopilot, as if you were actually having sex.

It was the hottest either of you had ever felt.

The day continued on, with both you and Drew filming more romantic scenes. It was very surreal that this was all pretend because, at some points, it felt real.

The last scene was finally shot and everyone cheered with applause, happy the hard work and long day is over.

You were changing out of your film clothes and back into the sweatpants and hoodie you wore to set at six am this morning.

Drew had also changed, putting on his jeans and jacket.

You were going around and sincerely thanking every single person for their contribution and hard work, the last person finally being Drew.

Your eyes locked onto each other, a small smile creeping onto both your faces.

"Thank you so much, Drew, seriously. I couldn't have done this without you," you told him.

Drew shrugged nonchalantly, but he seemed a little sheepish at your genuine words.

"No, thank you. I had a lot of fun today, you were a lot of fun to film with." Drew replies, a warm look in his gaze.

He pulled you into another hug, your face pressed into him, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

"I hope this isn't the last time you see me," Drew murmurs in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, the moment reeling in your mind as you thought about when he hugged you and murmured how much he loved your song on Jimmy Fallon.

"It won't be, I promise."

You finally pulled away, a little reluctantly. You didn't wanna scare him off by holding him for too long.

"I'll eventually send you photo stills and snippets to post for promotion, but I don't want you to feel like you have to post anything or a shit-ton of stuff. I know you're busy," you tell him.

Drew shook his head. "Nah, I'll post them. Promise."

You nodded softly, a little grin on your face.

"Alright, Y/n. I'll see you around," Drew hums.

You watched as he walked away, a warm feeling in your chest.

You had finally returned home after the long day. After showering, changing into pajamas, and feeding yourself, you slide into your warm bed.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, your heart jumped when you read one Instagram notification in particular.

@/drewstarkey has messaged you

You quickly opened the notification, a smile on your face.

Drew Starkey: Just wanted to thank you again for the opportunity today. Had more fun than I should have

Your User: Ofc!! Maybe when the music video drops we can celebrate together :3

Fuck. Your thumb pressed send before you could double-think that message.

Drew Starkey: I like the sound of that

Oh.

tags!!

@slut4you @sweetlike-sugarplum @snowtargaryen @fastlovela @christinechickiee @ahgrace6 @evermorx89 @loren8818181 @eddiemuns0nl0ver @sophiesmovingcastle5 @chimchimjiminie16 @amel1ee @reader1402 @tqd4455 @rxeae @caraxes-syrax @shrimpybbq @drewstarkeysbabe @rafeswhoooreee @meropeeonmee @rafeluvrr @marvelahsobx @raeven-marie43 @fallout-girl219 @brendazzlingg @10ava01 @secretsideofbree @drewstarrrkey @p0gue420 @gibson-g1rl @kiiyomei @spiderstyles04 @sexualparkour @vinaluvsu @domainexpandme @mariadu2 @toterry @taliawz @always-reading @angvl3tears @iloveoldermenn @aesthetic-lyss @lover-girl-estxx @cadhlabear

[ilovolderman]

The Match

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: While secretly dating You, Bucky gets roped into a dating app by Sam

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, light jealousy

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What" (this is already part 5, so yes, im calling it a series.) It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the soft morning light pouring in through the big windows. You were curled up on the counter in one of Bucky’s henleys — technically yours now, since you’d claimed it after “accidentally” falling asleep in it two months ago. He hadn’t asked for it back.

Bucky stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs as he stole tiny sips from your coffee cup every time you lowered it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him as he swiped it again.

He smirked, brushing a thumb over your knee. “Can’t help it. Yours always tastes better.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward anyway, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He caught you halfway and turned it into a real kiss — slow, unhurried, the kind that made time feel irrelevant.

You sighed against his lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re never gonna eat.”

“We can skip breakfast,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

“And deal with Sam’s ‘someone didn’t have their Wheaties’ speech again? No thanks.”

Bucky groaned and stepped back, reluctantly, while you hopped off the counter. You started prepping your coffee again, and he leaned close to watch.

“One scoop…” he counted aloud.

You snuck a glance at him and grinned. “Three.”

“Three?” he fake-gasped. “You planning to vibrate through walls?”

“Says the guy who had four yesterday.”

“Three and a half,” he corrected, deadpan.

You snorted. “Uh-huh. Keep lying to yourself, grandpa.”

He gave you a playful glare but said nothing, instead leaning over to steal one of your toast slices like a thief in the night.

And then — of course — the kitchen door swung open.

“Okay, what the hell is this domestic energy?” Sam’s voice boomed as he walked in. “Am I interrupting a rom-com or—?”

You and Bucky practically jumped apart like teenagers caught red-handed. You reached for the peanut butter like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Morning,” you both said, far too casually, far too in sync.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Weird. Anyway…”

He turned to Bucky, eyes narrowing as he opened the fridge. “You look grumpier than usual.”

“I always look like this.”

“That’s what worries me,” Sam said, pulling out the orange juice. “You need a little somethin’ in your life. A spark. Some romance.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Wow, subtle.”

Sam shot you a grin. “I’m serious, Bucky. You look miserable and I’m sick of it. Your need to get out there. Meet people. Real people. People who don’t, y’know, punch aliens for a living.”

“I’m not miserable,” Bucky muttered, taking a very aggressive bite of toast.

Sam ignored him. “You need someone to, like, hold your hand and remind you that the world isn’t complete garbage.”

“Y/N does that,” Bucky said before realizing. His eyes flicked to you. Yours widened slightly.

“Uh— I mean…” he coughed. “You could. You’re good at pep talks.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

But Sam was too busy with his phone to notice the weird energy. “Anyway, I’m gonna download Spark for you.”

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes.” Sam grinned, typing furiously. “It’s like Tinder but for people who still believe in feelings.”

“Delete it,” Bucky said immediately.

“Too late. Already making your profile. Okay — full name?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam looked up. “Fine, we’ll just put ‘Bucky B.’ You sound like a retired DJ. Age... one-oh-six... but we’ll round down to thirty-five. Close enough.”

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop from laughing. Bucky looked like he was actually malfunctioning.

“Give me your phone. I'm deleting it.”

“Nope.” Sam sidestepped him and kept typing. “Bio time. What do you want it to say? ‘Strong, silent, may or may not have trauma, will kill spiders for you’?”

“Sam.”

“Oh! And profile picture.” Sam’s grin went feral. “I’m gonna use the one from Clint’s barbecue.”

Bucky froze. “No. Not the one where—”

“Yup,” Sam said, turning the phone around dramatically. “The one where you’re smiling. A real smile. The people gotta see the goods, man.”

You wheezed. “That’s actually a really good picture.”

“It is,” Sam agreed, tapping to save the profile. “Now we wait. Trust me, you're gonna get matches faster than Tony blows money.”

Bucky looked physically pained.

And then… the phone buzzed.

“Oh snap — you already got a match! Girl named Olivia.” Sam said, scrolling like a man on a mission. “Look at this—she hikes, she volunteers at animal shelters. Honestly, Buck, she’s like a Hallmark movie in human form. You should totally message her.”

You blinked.

Something inside you twisted — that unwelcome, unmistakable burn of jealousy curling in your chest.

Bucky looked… surprised. And then cautious. “That was fast.”

“She’s cute,” Sam said, scrolling. “She said you have nice eyes. You should message her. Or better yet, go on a date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah, Buck. You should totally go.”

Bucky turned toward you slowly. His smile had faded into something softer. Thoughtful. He tilted his head, studying your face like it was a puzzle he was halfway through solving.

“…Maybe,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word.

You smiled a little too tightly. “Good for you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, like he could see right through you.

You lasted approximately six hours before cracking. Not that you were counting.

You’d spent the day trying not to think about Olivia. Or her "kind eyes". Or the fact that Bucky had apparently matched with her in under a minute. Not that it mattered, obviously. You were cool. Chill. Entirely unaffected.

…Until Bucky found you in the hallway on your way back to your room, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly tugged you into his.

He shut the door behind you, arms crossed. He didn't look mad. Just… knowing.

You tried to play it cool. “If this is about the last cookie, I swear I thought it was mine.”

“It’s not about the cookie.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Then what?”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t waver. “You told me to go. Like it didn’t bother you.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off. “I was just being cool. Y’know, chill. Unbothered.”

“You were seething, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. “Okay, maybe a little. So what?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just watched you for a second, his silence pressing gently around your walls. Not demanding, not accusing — just waiting for you to be honest.

You exhaled and leaned back against the door. “I know I said it didn’t bother me, but the second Sam said you matched with someone, it was like—like my stomach dropped out.”

His brow furrowed, stepping closer.

You continued, voice softer. “I know you love me. I do. But the idea of someone else getting even a piece of you… I hated it. And that scared me. I didn’t want to be the clingy one or the insecure one or the girl who flips out over some dumb dating app.”

Bucky’s face softened completely. “Hey.”

He closed the gap and cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You are not insecure. You’re not clingy. You’re human. And you love me.” He kissed your forehead gently. “I want you to care.”

Your chest cracked wide open, and you let yourself lean into him.

“I don’t want to share you, Buck,” you whispered. “Not even a little.”

“You never have to,” he murmured. “You’ve got all of me. Always.”

“…So what about Olivia?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He shrugged. “I unmatched her hours ago. Right after you said good for you like you were trying not to cry.”

You gaped. “You what?”

Bucky smirked. “The only person I want… is you.”

Your heart stuttered, full and aching and impossibly light all at once. “Bucky—”

“You’ve had me from the moment you stole my henley and never gave it back.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You don’t have to be chill. You don’t have to play it cool. You already have all of me.”

Your laugh was shaky, but your smile was real. “Even if I get all weird over fictional matches on dating apps?”

He grinned. “Especially then.”

You leaned into him, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “So you’re not going on a date with Olivia?”

“Nope,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his. “Unless you change your name and start volunteering at animal shelters.”

You snorted. “I would for you.”

Bucky kissed you then — sweet, slow, soft. The kind of kiss that made you forget all the awkward moments of the morning. The kind that made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

You laughed into the kiss, your fingers curling around his shirt. “You absolute...”

“—Boyfriend material?” Bucky finished, hopeful.

You smiled, lighter than you had all day. “Absolutely.”

Somewhere down the hall, Sam shouted, “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DELETED SPARK—!”

You broke apart, laughing breathlessly. “We should probably tell him.”

Bucky sighed into your neck. “Or we fake our deaths and disappear into the Alps.”

“Tempting.”

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd

[elleetlalune]

The kiss of life | sjy

⤷genre: smut, academic rivals to lovers.

⤷sypnosis: Your rival, Sim Jake, has always been a burden in your life, well atleast until you realise he's a little too obssesed with your little game of "who's the best?".

⤷warnings: smut smutty smut smut, ANGST AHA, degradation kink, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex (bro..), CREAMPIE, oral(m receiving), cowgirl (yeehaw!), doggy, reader is VERY stupid, jake is a jerk,drinking, meandom!jake x sub!reader.

“Fucking hell, how do you even score a full grade in Physics?”

Your voice was muffled against your arms as you slumped over the desk. The screen glared at you, mockingly bright in the dark of your dorm. Another test, another 92. Not bad. But not enough.

Not enough to beat him.

"Girl, you should rest. It's like 2am," sighed Giselle from behind her laptop, stretching her arms with a yawn.

She was your roommate, best friend, non-biological sister. In a way, she was everything to you.

You dragged yourself from the chair and walked straight into her arms, practically collapsing into her hoodie-covered shoulder. “I’m tired,” you muttered, voice rough from lack of sleep.

She chuckled softly and rubbed your back. "Let’s get you something to eat, okay? Pizza, right?"

You nodded against her, mumbling something about cheese and annihilating Sim Jake in one breath.

She pulled away and gave you a look. "You're obsessed. It’s not healthy."

“I’m not obsessed,” you lied, flopping back into your chair like a dying Victorian woman. “I just don’t like losing.”

“You don’t like losing to Jake,” she corrected, smirking. “He lives rent-free in your head. That boy could sneeze and you’d file it under sabotage.”

You opened your mouth to object, but your phone buzzed.

Sim Jake: Hope you’re studying. I’m not slowing down just because you need beauty sleep.

You let out a strangled groan and threw your phone onto the bed like it had insulted your ancestors.

Giselle didn’t even look up. “Was that him?”

“God, I hate him.”

“Sure you do.” She smiled at you.

Jake was everywhere.

Not in the literal sense—you didn’t see him until your 10 a.m. Physics seminar—but it felt like he haunted every inch of your morning.

The group chat. The hallway whispers. The lecture slides. It was like the universe had a favorite student and was making sure you knew it.

By the time you slid into your seat near the back of the lecture hall, coffee in hand and nerves already frayed, you knew he’d be sitting in his usual spot: front row, center. Perfect posture, perfect notes, perfect attention.

You hated how consistent he was.

You tried to tune out the professor's voice, but Jake made that impossible. He answered three questions in the first ten minutes. Not just correctly—but brilliantly. Like he'd eaten the textbook for breakfast.

And every time he spoke, you felt that familiar pang.

Not jealousy. Not really.

Just pressure. Like every word out of his mouth was a dare.

Catch me if you can.

“Sim Jake’s paper was one of the few that properly explained the entropy paradox,” the professor was saying now, scrolling through the week’s top scores on the projector. “In fact, only a few of you met the standard—”

There it was.

Your name, second place.

His, first.

Again.

Your stomach sank.

You didn’t even notice Jake glancing back at you until class ended and he appeared at your side like he’d been summoned.

He leaned down slightly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the shuffle of backpacks and murmured complaints.

“Tied in Calculus. Beat you in Physics. You gonna make a comeback in Bio?”

You refused to look at him. “I’d rather eat chalk.”

He snorted. “Tempting. But not the academic strategy I’d go with.”

You turned to glare at him, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, he smiled wider, eyes lit with that competitive glint you were coming to dread.

“You know,” he added casually, “you should study with me. Could help your chances.”

You stared. “Is that... an offer? Or a threat?”

Jake shrugged. “Depends how badly you want to win.”

You hated that you hesitated.

He noticed.

“Thought so,” he said, tapping the side of your notebook like it was some kind of challenge, and then he was gone—off into the crowd like a smug academic ghost.

You stood there, notebook in hand, and realized you were smiling.

God help you.

Back at the dorm, Giselle was sprawled on her bed with a face mask on and a playlist of playboy Carti playing at low volume.

You kicked off your shoes and dropped face-first into your comforter with a groan.

“Let me guess,” she said, not looking up, “Him again?”

“He told me to study with him.”

“Oof.” She peeled off one side of her face mask. “He’s either trying to seduce you or destroy you. Maybe both.”

“I don’t get it,” you said, muffled by the blanket. “Why does he care so much about this? Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his bullshit,” she replied, sitting up. “Everyone else treats he was gifted by Erwin Schrödinger. You? You beat him. That’s hot.”

You lifted your head to glare. “That is not hot.”

“Oh, honey.” She smiled, all-knowing. “Yes, it is.”

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.

You didn’t like Jake. You didn’t.

But something was happening. And it wasn’t just about grades anymore, maybe if it wasn't for that infuriating smirk he always had on his fucking face, you wouldn't doubt it.

Well atleast until a few days later.

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known the moment the professor said “pair work.”

Nothing good ever came from the phrase pair work—not when Sim Jaeyun existed in the same universe as you.

You sank a little lower in your seat as Professor Han pulled up the randomized groupings on the screen.

Project: Experimental Physics Simulation (40% of final grade) Assigned Partners:

Your eyes scanned the list faster than you should've—until they landed on the name next to yours.

Jang Yn & Sim Jake

“No,” you muttered. “No, no, no, no.”

“Hell yes,” Jake whispered from behind you, voice practically purring with smug satisfaction. A small gasp leaving your body, where the hell did he come from?

You turned slowly, a grimace twisting your face.

He grinned like a cat with cream. “Guess we’re spending some quality time together after all.”

“This is a hate crime,” you replied flatly.

Professor Han tapped her tablet for attention. “You’ll be expected to present your model in two weeks. The goal is to demonstrate practical application of theoretical concepts. Creativity is encouraged.”

She smiled sweetly. “You’ll learn more from someone who doesn’t think like you.”

Jake leaned forward, chin practically resting on his hand. “Hear that? I don’t think like you.”

“I know you don’t think like me,” you snapped. “I value silence, not stupid talks.”

He chuckled.

And it was infuriatingly…warm, why did he have to be so stupidly handsome? He had the personality of a gorilla on steroids, yet whenever he smiled ,flirted or just exsisted, you could feel your panties a little more damp than before.

The first “study session” was exactly what you expected: annoying, tense, and two hours of arguing about the definition of “efficient simulation.”

You’d agreed to meet at the library, in one of the glass-paneled study rooms. His natural habitat.

Jake sprawled out on one end of the table like he owned the place—hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, mechanical pencil spinning between his fingers. His notes were, of course, immaculate. Color-coded. Labeled. Graphs.

You hated how good they were.

"So what? Are you just gonna stare at me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without a word, you just sat down took out your textbooks, leaving the latter a little confused on your weird...eagerness?

You worked back and forth, and without a doubt, he knew every.single.thing you didn't, everytime you were about to say something he'd look at you as if it was the most obvious thing anyone could ever say.

After two long hours, you had finally finished.

"It's done, I'll send it to you once I'm at the dorm." You announced not even looking at him, too busy gathering your things, the thing is you weren't busy, rather flustered by his piercing gaze on you, looking at you as if you were some kind of prey.

You almost didn't want to leave, what are you even thinking?

“Sure. Try not to stay up too late obsessing over me.” He finally answered nodding.

You paused at the door and looked back at him. “Try not to get too comfortable with me, I don't like you, this is a forced-proximity.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Goodnight, Yn” he said.

And just like that he was walking away.

You didn’t even realize you were smiling.

Not until you walked back into your dorm and Giselle looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and pointed a suspicious finger at you.

“Oh my god.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re smiling.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, peeling off her under-eye patches like she was unmasking the truth.”You only smile like that when you buy a new Ben&Jerry's ice cream flavour, or when you daydream of Sim Jaeyun."

You tried to suppress the grin creeping back onto your face. “We had a productive professional meeting. That’s it.”

Giselle crossed her arms and leaned against her desk like she was prepping for interrogation. “Uh-huh. And did this productive professional meeting involve any physical touch? Maybe you looking at him while he was busy? Perhaps you dropping something and you and him accidently bumping your heads while trying to pick it up at the same time?”

“Please, you watch to many dramas” you groaned, tossing your bag onto your bed. “It was just a project. Calm down.”

She gasped. “Just a project? Oh, you’re down bad.”

“I am not—” You stopped, because even saying it sounded like a lie.

Giselle strutted toward you. “Bitch? I’ve seen you spend entire nights rage-studying just to beat him by 0.1 points. Now suddenly you’re all buddy-buddy? What did he do, donate a kidney?”

You buried your face in a pillow. “We’re just working on the project. He’s tolerable in small doses.”

“Tolerable. Wow. That’s almost romantic, next thing you know you'll be in his bed,”

You lifted your head and gave her the flattest look you could manage. “Remind me why I let you live here again?”

“Because you're secretly inlove with me. Though I don't do Polyamourous relationships.”

She flopped dramatically onto your bed beside you and propped her chin on her hand. “So... when’s the next date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“But it is. Together. Voluntarily. With eye contact.”

You groaned.

She poked your side. “Did he lean over your shoulder?”

“No.”

“Did you imagine what he’d look like on top of you?”

“Giselle!”

She cackled. “That’s a yes.”

You shoved her off your bed with a pillow and covered your face again. “I hate you.”

“No, sweetie.” Her voice was singsong now, floating from the floor. “You hate Jake. Remember?”

It started, as most academic regrets did, with Giselle saying: “You have to come.”

You eyed her from your desk. “I really don’t.”

“It’s a stupid party. It’s practically networking.”

“You mean it’s drinking cheap beer and pretending it's the best thing i've had?”

“Exactly!” she beamed. “You need a break. Come. Wear something cute. Get tipsy. Maybe kiss someone,or even hook-up. Come on!”

You were mid-eye roll when she added, way too casually: “Oh. Jake’s going.”

You froze. “How do you know that?”

She smirked. “Because I asked him.”

“Why would you—”

“You’re welcome,” she sang, already disappearing into your closet, before coming back a dress in her hands.

"Ta-da! You'll definetly get dick tonight if you wear this." She wiggled her eyebrows, holding a black mini-dress that had a lacy sweetheart neckline.

"Do I have a choice?" You sighed, taking it from her. "Nuh uh, now get ready."

The party was louder than you expected. And warmer. And definitely more crowded.

Giselle abandoned you the second you got there, of course. Something about a guy she knew, which was the usual, so you just sat alone drinking some tequila you found sitting on one of the counters.

So you ended up drifting through the crowd alone for a while, plastic cup in hand, trying to look like you belonged there and weren’t constantly scanning the room for him.

And then—

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned—and there he was.

Jake. Casual clothes, dark shirt, hair a little messy, that stupid perfect face slightly flushed from the heat.

He smiled, just a little.

“I thought you didn’t do parties,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“I don’t. But Giselle said you’d be here.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Well,” you said coolly, “don’t expect me to be fun.”

Jake stepped closer. “Too late. I already am.”

It was stupid.

The way you ended up talking for an hour on someone’s front porch. The way the tequila burned a little less every time he leaned in. The way your fingers brushed when you passed the cup back and forth, and neither of you pulled away.

You were tipsy.

He was tipsy.

“I used to think you hated me,” he said suddenly, eyes fixed on yours.

“I did.”

Jake laughed. “And now?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words were all stuck somewhere between your throat and your pride.

He stepped closer, gaze flicking down to your lips. “You still hate me?”

You didn’t say anything.

He took that as permission.

His lips suddenly crashed on yours, a small gasp leaving your mouth that felt hostage to his, your tongue was putting a weak fight against his, as his lips bit your lower one.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was all heat and teeth and pent-up energy—years of competition and tension finally snapping.

Your back hit the wall. His hands found your waist, his lips not leaving yours , it was hungry, you were hungry for eachother, as if you were touch deprived.Your hands tangled in his hair like you’d been waiting for this.

And maybe you had.

You didn’t stop.

Not when someone shouted about the cops. Not when the music cut out. Not when the porch light flickered like a dying star.

Not when he pulled you to a room, his hands never leaving your body, he pushed you against the room's door, locking it, just the way your lips were locked.

"You wanted this didn't you?" He smirked finally pulling away, looking at your body, up and down.

His pants were tighter, his breath was ragged, and you knew what you had to do.

You softly pushed him on the bed, as you got on your knees.

"Oh?" He let out almost mockingly, as he spread his legs.

You unzipped his pants, letting them fall down, before tugging his boxers down too.

Taking the hard lenght in your hand, you looked at it like it was a full course meal, like you were about to devour it.

You teased the leaking tip with your tongue, as he groaned grabbing your hair and pushing his aching cock in your hot mouth, making you gag.

"Fuck, yeah, take it all" He smirked, thrusting his hips forward, forcing you to take him all. Tears were streaming down your face from gagging as you sucked relentlessly, his thick veiny cock plunging in and out of your mouth.

"Such a slut, sucking me off after I kissed you once." His words were mean, degrading yet they only aroused you more, as your needy pussy ached in silence, drowned in her own juices.

You kept on sucking, as you felt him grow closer to his release, you massaged his balls, making him moan for the first time tonight.

"Keep doing that," He said, only final suck before he came in your mouth,"Open your mouth." He commended, to which you complied, your tongue full on his cum, that you had previously swallowed.

Without another word, he pushed you on the bed, roughly, before discarding the rest of his clothes, you took it as a sign to remove yours too, so you did.

"On all fours, now." He said his voice stern, you did as he said, this was embarassingly turning you on.

His ran a finger over your soaked folds, eliciting a strangled moan from you, "Already so wet and ready for me.." He whispered in your ear, his cock tugged against you hot core, "Please..I need you.."You finally muttered for the first time of the night.

"You need me?" He laughed, his laugh wasn't out of amusement, it was mean, he was mean.

Without previous warning, he slammed in you, thrusting deeply his entire cock in one swift movement.

You moaned, very loud, the pleasure mixed with the pain were overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck, you take me so well," He said, your silence earned you a sharp slap on the ass making you unwillingly moan. "Jake.."

"What a whore, moaning my name after I spanked you." he kept on talking while you did your best to take him from behind, your hands clutching on the pillows, your moans and your connected cores were the only sounds to be heard.

His dick hit your cervix every single time, making you see stars, the knot in your lower belly came loose as you whimpered.

"I'm ..I'm cumming.." You let out, to which he simply scoffed, "Hold it in, I'm not done yet."

It hurt, nearly impossible from the overwhelming wave of pleasure, his pace never slowing down, if anything he was speeding up. "Please.." and just with that, you came all over his cock, "Fuck.." He cursed under his breath, spanking you once again. "Who allowed to do that, slut?" Still deeply thrusting into you as he pulled your hair, your back meeting his chest.

A few more thrusts and his own body came loose, thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, he slowly pulled out, watching his cum drip down to your legs, as he collapsed next to you.

“Okay,” Giselle said, popping a grape in her mouth. “What exactly happened between you two?”

You were curled up on your bed, hoodie pulled over your knees, reliving the moment on a never-ending loop.

“He kissed me.”

She paused mid-grape. “...And?”

“And I kissed him back.” you said keeping the details of the after-math to yourself.

“And now?”

“He’s pretending I don’t exist.”

Giselle stared. “Wow. Okay. I’m going to need to physically restrain myself from punching him.”

“Get in line.”

She shifted beside you, growing serious. “Do you think he regrets it?”

You wanted to say no.

You didn’t.

Instead, you whispered, “I think it meant something. At least… to me.”

Giselle exhaled. “Then he’s a coward, you deserve better baby."

The final presentation day came.

You both delivered it perfectly. Polished. Efficient. No mistakes. No interaction beyond necessary. Your professor called it "an impressively balanced demonstration of collaborative work."

You both nodded. Smiled politely.

And then walked off in opposite directions.

Two days later, the truth came out.

You didn’t mean to overhear it.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop.

But as you turned the corner into the campus café, you heard his name. Loud, obnoxious, and coming from a table full of guys laughing like a pack of hyenas.

“Dude,” one of them snorted, “I still can’t believe you actually went through with the dare.”

Your stomach dropped.

You paused, just out of sight, something tight closing around your chest.

“Yeah,” another guy said. “Didn’t think you had it in you, genius.”

“Oh my god,” someone else cackled. “She looked so into it. She probably thinks you’re in love with her.”

“Easy shit,” came the final voice. Familiar. Mocking. Gut-twisting.

Jake.

“She’s smart, but she’s not hard to read.”

You didn’t hear anything after that.

Not over the roar in your ears.

You turned and walked away before they could see you. Fast. Like the hallway was collapsing behind you.

That night, you didn’t cry.

You didn’t rage or scream.

You just stared at your ceiling and felt... empty.

Because it wasn’t just the dare.

It was him.

The idea that everything you felt for him, well to him was just a stupid game, he wasn't lying when he called you a whore.

A fucking dare.

You thought maybe he hated you.

But you never thought he’d humiliate you.

And the worst part?

Somewhere deep down, past the fact you wanted to shove a fist in his annoyingly hot face, past the betrayal—

You still wanted to believe he didn’t mean it.

You were stupid.

You didn’t remember how you got back to your room.

You remembered walking. Just walking. One foot in front of the other like your bones were on autopilot. Like if you stopped, if you let yourself feel, you’d shatter.

The second the door shut behind you, your knees gave out.

You sank to the floor, back against the wood, breath caught in your throat. The silence in the room roared in your ears. Giselle wasn’t home. Thank God.

You stared at the wall, unblinking. Numb.

And then—

The tears came.

Slow at first, then faster, hotter, until you were shaking. Until sobs clawed their way out of your chest and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t understand how you let yourself fall for someone who turned your feelings into a joke.

You curled in on yourself, forehead pressed to your knees, sobbing so hard it hurt.

And all you could think was:

“She’s smart, but she’s not hard to read.”

Those words rang again and again in your skull like cruel bells, louder than your crying, louder than anything.

You felt stupid. So stupid.

How could you have believed him? Believed the softness in his eyes was real? Believed you meant anything?

You hated yourself for it.

And that’s what wrecked you the most.

Because it wasn’t just that he’d fucked you on a dare.

It was that you wanted it to be real.

It was that some pathetic part of you still did.

You stayed on the floor long after the tears dried. Red-eyed, mascara streaked on your cheeks.

A voice echoed in your head—your own voice from days ago, drunk,needy, hopeful and so desperately naive

You let out a bitter, broken laugh.

He didn’t surpass you.

He destroyed you.

And he probably didn’t even care.

You hadn’t spoken to Jake in days.

You didn’t look at him in class. Didn’t acknowledge him. Ignored him in the hallway when he passed too close. You kept your chin high, even if your stomach curled every time you sensed him near.

But today, he cornered you.

It was after class, where he used to sit beside you. Now you took a spot at the edge, eyes fixed on your notebook.

“Hey,” he said behind you. Too casually. “Can we talk?”

You stood without responding, changing seats.

He followed.

“Come on,” he muttered, catching up. “You’re seriously going to do this now?”

You looked at him. “Do what, Jake?”

He blinked like he hadn’t expected you to turn. “This silent treatment crap. It’s childish.”

You laughed. It was hollow. “I’m sorry, am I being childish? Because last I checked, you and your friends were laughing about a fucking dare , me.”

Something flickered in his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“I heard it, Jake. Every word.”

He glanced away, jaw tight. “You misheard.”

You stared. “Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

He met your eyes again, and now they were flat. Sharp. “You’re overreacting. It was just a joke. A dumb one. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Your voice cracked. “You kissed me and then fucked me.”

“You kissed me, and you wanted me to fuck you.” he shot back, too fast.

You froze.

“That night?” he continued. “You came onto me just as much. You think I forced you into anything?”

“That’s not—”

“You’re acting like I manipulated you when we were both drunk and—what? Lonely? Bored? Don’t pin this all on me just because you regret it.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Jake crossed his arms, tone colder now. “Maybe you built it up in your head. That’s not my fault.”

Your heart thundered. “You let me believe it meant something.”

“It didn’t,” he said.

Silence.

Something inside you broke, maybe it was whatever was left of your self esteem or your heart.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. Regret flickered there—but he didn’t take it back.

You stepped around him. “Don’t talk to me again.”

And this time, when you walked away, you didn’t cry.

You were too numb for that anyways.

You didn’t make it past the front door before you collapsed.

Again.

You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since you were eleven years old. Not when you failed your first test. Not when you broke your wrist during track. Not even when your parents stopped asking about how your day was.

But the second you saw Giselle—curled up on the couch in sweats with her laptop balanced on her knees—it all came flooding back.

“Shit,” she whispered, immediately ditching the laptop and standing up. “What happened?”

You shook your head, shoulders trembling.

“I—I can’t—” you choked out, barely managing to shut the door behind you before your legs gave out and you sank to the floor.

Giselle dropped beside you without hesitation. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” She pulled you into her arms, warm and solid and familiar.

You cried into her hoodie. Ugly, gasping sobs that shook your whole body.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just held you.

When the sobs finally slowed, she whispered, “Tell me what happened.”

You pulled back, wiping your face with your sleeve like it would hide the wreckage.

“I confronted Jake.”

Giselle’s expression turned instantly feral. “What did he do?”

“He said I overreacted. That it didn’t mean anything. That I wanted him.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He did not—”

“He gaslit me,” you said softly. “Tried to make me question what even happened. Like I imagined it. Like it was my idea, and I was just making a big deal out of nothing.”

“And the worst part?” You laughed wetly. “For a second, I believed him.”

Giselle’s hand flew to your shoulder. “No. Babe. No. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

You looked away, voice barely a whisper. “I wanted it to mean something. I thought it meant something.”

“It did mean something,” she said firmly. “To you. And that’s valid. Jake being a manipulative little shit doesn’t make your feelings fake.”

You gave a weak shrug. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was suddenly sharper. “You are not stupid. You are the smartest, most intuitive person I know. You’ve been holding yourself together for weeks and I have no idea how. And I’m proud of you.”

You blinked at her, tears blurring again.

“And,” she added with a half-smile, “I kind of want to trip him down a staircase.”

You gave a small, watery laugh. “Only kind of?”

“Well, I don’t want to get kicked out before midterms.”

You sniffled, managing a broken smile. “I love you.”

“I know.” She squeezed your hand. “But say it again so I can record it and set it as my alarm.”

You exhaled, some of the pressure in your chest finally loosening.

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then Giselle tilted her head. “You know what I think?”

You gave her a tired look. “That I should murder him and flee the country?”

She smirked. “Tempting. But no. I think… he’s scared.”

You frowned. “Of what?”

“Of you,” she said. “Of how much he likes you.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

“He doesn’t like me, Giselle.”

“He does,” she said simply. “But he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he turns it into a competition. A dare. A way to win.”

You looked away. “if that's the case,that’s messed up.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why he doesn’t deserve you. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

Silence stretched.

Giselle squeezed your hand again. “But if—if—he ever gets his shit together, and I mean therapy-level together… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

You nodded slowly.

What if you just dated Giselle?

What about him?

He hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

It was fucking pathetic.

Jake was used to being good at things. Physics? Easy. Debate? Cake. Charm? Usually, yeah. He’d coasted through most of life by being clever enough, cocky enough, and just vulnerable enough to make people want to forgive him when he wasn’t.

But this?

This wasn’t forgivable.

He rubbed his face, staring blankly at the half-finished essays on his laptop. His dorm room was a mess—clothes scattered, ramen bowls on the floor,

He couldn’t focus.

You were everywhere.

Every seat you didn’t sit in.

Every class where you didn’t look at him.

Every hallway you passed through like he wasn’t there.

And God, you looked wrecked when you walked out of that confrontation.

Pale. Shaky. Like you were trying to hold it together just long enough to get away from him.

And he did.

His own words made him nauseous now.

He hadn’t meant it like that. Hadn’t meant any of it like that. But he panicked. He saw the look in your eyes and all he could think was she’s going to hate me forever. So he did what he always did.

He deflected. Defended. Because he always won.

Tried to win the argument like it was a debate.

But it wasn’t a debate.

It was you.

And now he was losing you in real time.

You didn’t even hate him, that was the worst part. She looked at him like he wasn’t real anymore. Like he never had been.

Because he didn’t know who he was, either.

You made him feel off-balance. Like all his perfectly crafted blueprints didn’t apply. Like he wanted to undo years of rivalry just to see her smile at him again.

And then he ruined it.

He kissed her like he meant it. And maybe, maybe he had meant it—but he let everyone else turn it into something else. A dare. A power play. A joke.

He, himself knew the joke, all along, was him, Sim Jaeyun.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

You probably thought he never cared.

But the truth was—

He cared too much.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Week three without Jake.

You hadn’t planned it like that. There was no calendar countdown, no “today I get over him” moment. But the silence had space in it now. Not emptiness—just… quiet.

You’d stopped crying.

Now, you were building.

You were the first one in the library most mornings. Not because you needed to prove anything anymore, but because you liked the light that hit the window tables at 7:04 a.m.

You started wearing lip gloss again. Real pants. That one leather jacket Giselle said made you look like the villain in a spy movie. And if people noticed?

Let them.

You weren’t doing it for them.

You weren’t even doing it for him.

You were doing it for you—for the girl who sat through Jake’s gaslighting and didn’t fold. For the girl who stood up and walked away without letting him see her fall apart.

Your group project had you partnered with people who actually respected you, and holy hell—it was like breathing fresh air for the first time. You were killing it in your lab work, crushing your deadlines, and taking up space unapologetically.

And Giselle?

Giselle was living for it.

“You look insane,” she said one morning, watching you apply eyeliner in the mirror.

You shrugged. “It’s just a Tuesday.”

“That’s the hot part,” she said, taking a picture for her instagram story. “Post-breakup glow is real.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” you muttered.

“Then why’s the school acting like he’s dead to you?”

You smirked. “Because he is.”

She raised her coffee cup. “Cheers to emotional funerals.”

You and Sunghoon were lab partners for the day, thanks to your professor reshuffling pairs. He was easy to be around—laid-back, a little cocky, and refreshingly not obsessed with beating you at everything.

“You’re way good at this,” he said, watching you adjust the digital thermometer. “You sure I'm actually helping?”

You shrugged, smiling. "You're like an assistant."

He grinned. “I’ll be the best assistant in that case."

You smiled. Not because you wanted to make a certain someone jealous. Not at first.

But when you glanced up and saw him staring from across the lab—jaw clenched, shoulders tense, not even pretending to take notes?

Oh, it was on.

Sunghoon leaned in to check something on your laptop, his hand brushing against yours.

“Should we run another test? I kind of want to watch you do it again.”

You laughed—too loud, too soft, just enough for Jake to hear. “You just like bossy girls.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Guilty.” he said raising his arms in the air.

Jake dropped his pen.

It clattered across the desk, echoing louder than it should’ve in the quiet room. You didn’t turn to look. You didn’t need to. His anger was practically radioactive.

You hadn’t even made it to the elevator that led to your room before you heard footsteps behind you—fast, heavy, angry.

“Really?” Jake’s voice, sharp, cut through the quiet.

You stopped walking.

Turned slowly.

“Oh. Now you want to talk?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you—eyes wild, hair messy, fists clenched like he was holding himself back from getting a warrant.

“You really think Sunghoon’s your type?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Jealous?” you smirked.

He stepped closer. “He’s not like me.”

“Exactly,” you said,

His jaw twitched. “You’re just doing this to piss me off.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “And if I am?”

He stared at you. “You think this is a game, but you’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not playing anymore, Jake,” you whispered, voice suddenly serious. “I stopped the second you made me feel like I was insane for having feelings.”

"You're not the center of the world." You sighed.

Something shifted in his face then—less anger, more desperation.

He took another step forward. You didn’t move.

“You don’t get to act like you didn’t feel it too,” he said, lower now. “You don’t get to flirt with my best friend and pretend it didn’t wreck me.”

“You wrecked me first,” you snapped. “You don’t get to say that now.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

Then—he reached out.

Slowly. Carefully.

His hand touched your cheek like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him. You didn’t move.

“You drive me insane,” he said hoarsely.

Your breath caught. “Good.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Messy. Desperate. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

You kissed him back like it was revenge. Like it was a memory you wanted to burn into his skin. Like it was the last time and the first time all at once.

His lips fit perfectly onto yours, as if he was made for you, as if you were made for eachother.

One moment and now you're in his room.

On his bed.

Moaning his name, bouncing on his cock.

"Holy shit, keep doing that.." He whimpers, holding your hips helping you move him in and out of your dripping hole.

"Jake.." His name feel like a continious prayer out of your lips, as his thick lenght made you see stars.

"See? You always come back.." He made it sound like an insult and a good thing at the same time. He thrusts turned sloppy and lazy.

"And you love it." You managed to let out.

Next morning, you woke up tangled in sheets that weren’t yours.

His hoodie was on the floor.

Your clothes were somewhere, probably near the door.

He was already awake—bare-chested, staring at the ceiling like the weight of everything had just hit him.

You didn’t speak.

Last night said enough.

And not nearly enough.

“So,” Jake said, sliding into the library booth across from you, “are we pretending last night didn’t happen, or are you going to keep blushing every time I say your name?”

You didn’t look up from your laptop.

“I’m working.”

He smirked. “So am I.”

You glanced at him. “Does annoying me count as a job now?”

“I mean, it’s a calling, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Grow up.”

Jake leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his palm. “You didn’t say that when you were moaning my name.”

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze.

His smile was lazy. Infuriating.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, heat creeping up your neck.

Jake tilted his head. “That’s not what you said last night either.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Tried not to let him see your pulse jump.

“God, you’re such a child,” you snapped.

Jake grinned. “And yet you let me—”

“Jake.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second.

And then he leaned closer, his voice lower. “Say it again.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“My name,” he said, eyes on your lips. “Say it like you mean it.”

You blinked.

“I have work to do,” you said, turning back to your screen. “Unlike you, I don’t get off on distractions.”

Jake chuckled. “No, you just get off with them.”

You kicked him under the table.

Hard.

Things were… good.

Weirdly, annoyingly, undeniably good.

Jake still teased you—called you “professor’s favorite,” stole your pens, leaned in too close during project meetings—but now there was some love.

You’d catch him watching you when you weren’t even talking.

You’d laugh at something dumb, and his whole face would light up like it mattered.

One night, after hours of project work and bickering over formulas, he walked you back to your dorm in silence. Not tense. Just… quiet. And when you got to your door, he said:

“I missed this.”

You blinked. “This?”

“You.”He smiled at you, taking your hand in his, interwinning your fingers.

And for once, you didn’t say anything back. Just stepped closer and let your fingers brush his.

He kissed you again.

Not messy this time.

You were both smiling in the kiss, like the rest of the world had disappeared, like you only both mattered.

The party was loud. One of those end-of-week ragers you never planned to go to, but Giselle dragged you out of bed with eyeliner in hand and a red dress in the other.

“Let's have fun, hottie!”

You went. You smiled. You even let yourself believe Jake might show up, find you in the crowd, pull you aside like he always did now—quiet hallway, dumb smirk, soft eyes. Something that made this whatever-you-two-had feel like a relationship.

Well you did find him.

But what you found was him.

Kissing someone else.

Pressed up against the wall.

Hands on her waist.

Her laugh in his mouth.

His fingers pulling her closer.

And the worst part?

He saw you.

Right in the middle of it.

Eyes locking for half a second.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Just kept going, like he hadn’t kissed you two nights ago and told you that he missed “this.”

Like you were a stranger.

Like it was still a game.

Your breath left your body like a punch to the ribs.

Giselle saw it happen in real time—your expression folding in on itself, your hand curling into a fist, the red cup slipping from your fingers.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she said instantly.

But you shook your head.

You weren’t going to cry.

Not here.

Not for him.

Not again.

The next day,

you didn’t knock.

You slammed his dorm room door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. Jake looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt half-off, face flushed—but not from guilt.

From being caught.

He stood slowly. “So, you heard.”

“You knew I’d be there,” you spat, voice shaking with fury. “You saw me.”

Jake didn’t move. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, that’s so comforting,” you snapped, fists clenched at your sides. “I mean, why would it? I’m just the dare, right? Just another stupid game.”

He flinched. Barely. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed. “Fair? Jake, I defended you. I believed in you. I thought for once, you were being real with me. And you threw it away for some girl in a miniskirt and a bottle of Malibu.”

“I was drunk—”

“SO WAS I,” you screamed. “Drunk. And stupid. And in love with someone who’s never going to stop playing games.”

His face changed.

That dangerous softness again. The one that came right before he twisted the knife.

“You love me?”

You blinked. “I did.”

He stepped forward.

You stepped back.

“Don’t,” you warned.

But he didn’t listen. He never did.

“You don’t get to walk away from this like I don’t matter,” he said lowly, eyes burning into yours. “You don’t get to pretend we weren’t something.”

You shoved him. Hard. “We were nothing. You made sure of that.”

He caught your wrist.

Held it gently—like you were glass, not fire.

“But I still picked you.”

You stared at him.

“I kissed her,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “but I felt you.”

Tears welled again, you laughed in disbelief.

“You are sick.”

Jake cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You’ll always be my favorite,” he murmured. “Even when I fuck everything up.”

You wanted to slap him.

You wanted to forget he ever existed.

Instead, you pulled away and left.

"Fuck you, Sim Jaeyun." You left his dorm, the dorm that'll always keep some remnants you could never forget.

You removed off your jacket, wiped off your eyeliner, brushed your teeth like it was any other night. Because it was.

He didn’t get to ruin anything else.

Not your sleep. Not your heart.

He did win in exams, but apart from that, he could never win this.

You laid down in bed, wrapped in Giselle’s oversized hoodie, staring at the ceiling while your phone buzzed once—twice—three times.

Jake: Can we talk? Jake: Please, I’m sorry. Jake: I messed up.

You blocked the number. Sighing contently as sleep wrapped it's wings over you.

You showed up to class in a new outfit. And you looked fucking hot.

He was there.

He looked like hell.

But who cares?

You walked past him without a glance, like he was any other guy in a crowded lecture hall. Just background noise.

Giselle leaned over to whisper, “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” a small smile on your lips, which she immediatly reciprocated.

Sunghoon smiled, leaning in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, sliding into the chair.

Jake didn't not even once raise his hand today.

And when Jake did say a word,

You didn’t even acknowledge him.

Not out of spite.

But because you’d already erased him from the part of you that used to ache.

You never told him you were done.

You didn’t need to. Cause you were never even a thing to begin with.

And by the time he realized he couldn’t win you again?

You had already won yourself.

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. body harm. heavy torture. waterboarding. trauma. crude language. hurt/no comfort. explicit suicidal thoughts. self mutilation/harm mentioned.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price. simon riley x f!reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x f!reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

He didn't want to get out of bed that day, and the Captain calling for a private meeting just as he dared opening his eyes gave him enough reason to know he was right.

Putting on his uniform was as easy as ever. Really, he hardly ever took it off, anyway. It took about twenty seconds to put on his boots and he was off.

It was cold outside.

The night before had been stormy, so if Johnny's lungs weren't used the damn weather by now, he would be cursing the gods for it. It was so cloudy that he just truly wanted to grab a coffee, and sleep again.

Hell, even breakfast before a meeting would do.

His pace wasn't rushed, the sun slowly coming up. As soon as he spotted Simon walking over to the Captain's office as well, seemingly unaware of his presence, he couldn't help but smirk and slow down. He did his best to keep his boots from making noise, holding his breath. He got closer, and closer.

Then, promptly bumped nose first on the back of Simon's head.

"Argh!" he grunted, holding his nose. Simon made no sound at all and just kept on walking. Johnny knew damn well the cocky tilt on the Lieutenant's head as they got near the Captain's office. "Bastard. Could've warned me, instead of making me nearly break my damn nose".

"Why? It's funnier like this" Simon said, the timber in his voice so amused it made Johnny roll his eyes, not really upset at all.

"To you, maybe".

"And that's how it's supposed to be, Johnny".

The conversation was cut short as soon as they approached the Captain's door. He was arguing with someone on the phone. It was clear he was trying not to make much noise, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Simon and him shared a look, and waited for a moment before knocking on the door.

"Get in" the Captain's voice cut through the silence, hanging up the phone before standing up, looking at the two men with a hard expression.

"What's going on?" Simon questioned, standing right next to Johnny, their shoulders brushing.

"We've got a mole" the Captain said, his teeth clenched. Johnny watched as he paced behind his desk, his shoulders hardened.

"A mole?" he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the bastard? We'll drag him to the—"

"Goddammit, Johnny. It's the fucking lass" the Captain snapped.

In that moment, the room went colder than the freaky weather outside. The three men stared at each other for one long second.

"We've five lasses" Simon started, the trembling in his voice so evident that Johnny wanted to reach out, and grab his arm to stabilize him. He didn't, as he was trembling just as badly. "You better give me a name right now, or I'll start breaking your shit".

"If it weren't yours, do you think I would be calling you two idiots?" the Captain growled out. He opened his mouth, ready to continue, but Johnny spoke first.

"Is this some kind of ridiculous, fucked up joke?" he blurted out. He just couldn't think. He just couldn't believe it. "She's been here for nearly ten years. Capt'n, there must be a mistake. And you, you can't possibly believe this shit!" he blurted out at Simon, turning to look at him.

Simon was as stiff as a wooden board.

And he was so damn angry it nearly made Johnny shit his pants.

"Is there proof? Do you have it on you? Is it positive?" Simon questioned, the words flowing, barely controlled. Johnny's mouth fell open. "How can you be sure?"

"LT!" he gasped in surprise, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up.

"Answer me" Simon demanded the Captain, ignoring him.

It took them two hours to go through the evidence, more than once. You've been selling information about other team's missions, and they had your fingerprints. It was almost as if you weren't even trying to hide it at all.

"Isn't it too simple, too easy?" Simon said, not for the first time. "Price, you gotta admit it's at least suspicious. She's not stupid".

"Capt'n, the lass' a smart one. Not even the lamest bastard in this damn base could pull a mistake this big" Johnny added. Needing to sooth himself, he discreetly placed his hand right next to Simon's on the desk.

The slightest curl of the Lieutenant's pinky across his made him take a deep breath.

"That's your pussydrunk heads talking to you. This is unmistakable and we can't risk it" the Captain shook his head, pointing at the evidence in front of them. They both went quiet at that, too troubled to feel offended. "Take her downstairs. We'll do as I ordered, in five. You either do it yourselves, or I'll call someone else" the Captain said. Simple as that.

If the Captain saw Simon snatch his hand back from Johnny's grip before they both stormed out of his office, he didn't say.

What was there to say, anyway?

An empty box suffered all of the Lieutenant's anger as soon as they stepped out. Snapped in half with kicks and thrown to the other side of the hall, alarming a few soldiers that, just taking a look at them, turned away instantly.

Johnny couldn't possibly do anything to make Simon feel any better if he was just as angry and appalled. Hurt, and incredibly confused, mostly. They didn't exchange a single word as they reached the mess hall, their boots heavy against the floor.

Simon's steps faltered when they saw you sitting at the usual table. Johnny clenched his jaw and walked forward, forcing Simon to do the same.

They both watched as you sipped on your mug, no doubt waiting for them to have breakfast. He saw you take a bite of the bread, your eyes brightening as you turned to them, recognizing their footsteps easily.

It's been nine years, after all.

Johnny's heart trembled at the sight. Anxiety and pain bloomed in his chest, but he forced himself to swallow it down. They had orders.

"It's so darn late!" you complained, your voice a little muffled around your mouthful, looking amused. Ridiculous. "Where were you? Come on, let's eat".

Beautiful.

It had been too easy. You didn't resist their touch at all, raising an eyebrow. Johnny heard you nearly choke when you noticed their grip wasn't playful, asking Simon what was happening, you feet dangling between the two of them.

Johnny's grip was tight, fighting to keep his expression blank, but it got fucking difficult the moment you realized where they were taking you, screaming, fighting, and struggling against them, demanding explanations.

The room had been used for many years, even before they got here. It either reeked of shit, piss or blood and bleach. It's never been pleasant.

The Captain was already waiting there.

He kept silent as Simon punched you on the stomach. Kept silent as you begged and pleaded, trying to meet their eyes, their hands tying you to the chair.

The Captain had ordered not to explain anything at first.

And it was fucking hard.

To see you get punched.

To be the one to gag you, despite your attempts to bite down on his fingers. To be the one who made you choke on your fears, on your pain.

Your panic.

Simon's eyes were detached, stuck within himself, the trembling in his hands barely noticeable, but Johnny saw it.

He felt it in his own hands.

Every time the Captain ordered him to yank on your hair. Every time he pressed that disgusting wet rag against your face and poured the water on it. Every time his gray eyes met your pleading gaze.

With each of your screams.

He saw Simon flinch with every one of them.

After the Captain kicked your lights out, the three of them had a serious conversation. Simon and Johnny were quiet, both of them staring at the Captain as if he had grown a second head right in front of them.

"No. I'm not doing that shit".

"Neither am I. Are you out of your fucking mind, Price?"

"Now, lads, I'm not asking. If you don't do it, I'll grab another two. We need information and the evidence is clear" the Captain cut them off. He didn't look happy about it, but he didn't seem too worried, either. "Tomorrow. That's an order".

Simon and Johnny sat on the stairs that night, with you right behind the door, both of them smoking silently. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny's tears, and when Simon turned away, neither said anything.

Your screams were a stab in his heart. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

When Price told him what they were going to do because you "wouldn't open your mouth", he had wanted to kill Price right there, but the evidence was too big and they had orders, and it didn't matter what he thought. He was but a soldier. Price gave the orders, and it wasn't his place to question them.

Not too much, anyway.

But that didn't mean he had to like them.

Had it been anybody else, Simon wouldn't have hesitated. He would've dragged the dickhead to the basement himself.

But you?

Price had ordered him to go slow, to make you suffer as the nails were ripped off slowly enough to make you pass out, but he couldn't.

He couldn't go against his orders, but he could do them his way.

If it's done quick enough, the pain concentrates and dissipates faster, leaving only raw, throbbing fingertips behind.

That's the best he could do.

As you pushed your head against his chest, pleading and screaming in pain as Price asked you questions you didn't seem to hear, another nail would come off.

"Give him their names. Please" he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, but you were too gone with pain to pay attention.

Price would order him to go on, and Simon would grit his teeth, and do it as fast as possible.

Every scream made him want to crawl into the tiniest cave, and rot for the eternity.

If you were truly a traitor, he didn't care. He wanted you to break yourself free and steal their guns so you could end them right there. He wanted you to win and take revenge, dance on their bodies for all he cared.

When you said it was done between the two of you, he was glad his back was facing you. Otherwise, you would've noticed the trembling of his lips under the balaclava.

Orders. He had to follow orders.

When the toenails started coming off, your screams reached a deeper pitch. It was as if it wasn't you anymore, you looked like a whole different person. Simon pressed his head to your leg, panting, whispering and begging you to say their names.

"Please" he would whisper, gripping your ankles in hope to ground you away from the pain.

When he was two toenails into the second foot, deep cuts along the arch of the two of them, he decided to pause, as if coming out of a trance. Price had gone out half an hour ago, looking agitated, so he took full advantage of that for a moment.

Simon stopped, looking up at you, but you were slowly passing out just from the little break you were allowed when he stopped.

Johnny was shaking, his shoulder tense as he looked straight to the door in front of you, from where Price bursted inside the room again.

"Follow me" Price said, his mustache shaking. It didn't take long for Johnny and Simon to do so.

The last time he had been this angry, he had nearly killed himself in the middle of his room.

You were innocent.

Simon was faster than Johnny only for a second.

He punched Price so hard that he could hear a finger breaking, but he didn't give a single fuck.

He knew it wasn't Price's fault.

Still, it felt damn good.

Yells could be heard all across the base, confused soldiers who knew nothing of the situation yet would just stare at each other.

"Garrick caught him trying to escape" Price raised his voice again. "He's been detained and has already confessed. The problem is that—"

"I don't fucking care!" Simon snapped, gripping Price's desk hard enough to break the shit out of it. "Bring him here, goddammit. I'll put a bullet through his brain".

"I'm trying to explain why I fucking can't do—"

"The fuck am I here for, then? I'm done with this fucking shit hole" he yelled, not interested in whatever Price had to say anymore.

Johnny and him rushed downstairs, panting, shaking. Price didn't leave his office, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

Simon fell to his knees and untied you as quickly as he could, watching you blink your eyes open, your gaze distant.

"I'm so fucking sorry, love. You'll be okay, I fucking promise you that. Fuck, I'm so sorry... I'll carry you, hold on. Hold on..." he whispered, sliding an arm under your legs and carrying you bride style.

He was struggling with his own anger, unable to control his body as he normally would, bumping his shoulders on the walls as he rushed upstairs.

"Watch her head! You're gonna fucking drop her. Let me help—"

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Don't fucking try me right now".

If Johnny was hurt by his words, he genuinely didn't care right now. He would get over it.

When he finally reached the clinic, he snapped at however was available to get their fucking arses up.

He knew it wasn't the right thing, but he couldn't afford to be respectful. Not right now. A few medics surrounded you immediately, but one of them started pushing him out.

They kicked him out of your room.

They fucking kicked him out.

Away from you.

"You've two broken fingers, and she doesn't need you. You ain't going in" the head doctor told him. Simon's eyebrows furrowed, his lips curling in a snarl behind the mask, but she was having none of that. "Shut it, you big brute. Now do as I say, or I'm kicking you out of my clinic".

Johnny sat next to him, but Simon wouldn't look away from the door to your room. He sat quietly, not even blinking as the doctor helped him with his fingers. They didn't even hurt.

He didn't matter.

It took you two days to wake up.

As soon as he was allowed in, he barely left your side, only to take a piss or grab a coffee. He would watch the doctors check on you, acting like a dog ready to snap and bite their heads off every time your fingers flicked in your sleep when they touched you.

"L.T. You gotta get some rest" Johnny mumbled, a hand on Simon's shoulder. It was only the two of them and you there. As it should be.

"Not interested".

"Its been four days since you've eaten anything".

"Good for me. Was planning on going on a diet, actually".

"Simon".

"That's my name".

Smack.

Simon finally looks away from your face to look at Johnny with wide eyes, the back of his head burning. "The fuck was that?"

"That's what you get for being a dickhead" Johnny replied, his eyes fixed on you. "She's safe here. Come on, we gotta be fed and rested, so she can kill us when she wakes up".

It took Johnny a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag Simon out. They ate in silence, and slept.

Only a couple of hours.

The moment Simon heard your first scream, just in the back of his mind, he got up to his feet, rushing to the clinic. He wasn't certain if it was his mind or if it was truly you.

When he saw you on the floor, crawling away from him, he felt both relieved and terrified. He sank to the floor instantly, his hands in full display, hoping to ease your fear.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he said, his eyes wide, taking in your expression. He will never forget the way you were looking at him, as if he wasn't Simon. Not anymore.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to approach you anymore, didn't know how to even begin.

"W-we were tricked" he explained, at a complete loss. "A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago, when we brought you here. I'm so—"

"You're sorry" you crackled, and it felt like a stab to his heart. "You're sorry".

It didn't matter what he did, you refused to listen to him.

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleaded, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Fuck, you should never do so. Lovie... please".

When you started sobbing, shaking and keeping yourself away from him, Simon broke down as well.

He moved slowly, taking his mask off, and leaving it on the floor between the two of you. He didn't dare looking at you, tears or not, but he wanted you to stop being scared at him.

He would've preferred you stabbed him. He would've preferred you made him eat glass and then shot him between the eyebrows.

But scared? He wanted to bite his own fingers off to make sure he would never hurt you again.

Simon was embarrassed. Ashamed.

He had followed orders, but he should've pressed Price harder. He should've helped you somehow instead of just doing as he was told.

The space between the two of you felt disturbing and too big. He wanted to hold you, to kiss your face, and never let go.

But you've been clear. It was over.

He didn't dare trying to convince you.

All he had left was his regret.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

by implied I meant fucking obviously. i couldn't leave johnny out, i love him sm. but if you don't like it just picture them as rlly close buddies, then. they might kiss, but who doesn't kiss their buddies, am I right?

i was gonna wait until tomorrow, but i finished way faster than I thought I would, and I'm hyped as hell, so here you go. a gift!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold

[harrysfolklore]

oscar piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | oscar smau

Oscar Piastri was known as the introvert and reserved driver on the grid.

While other drivers basked in the spotlight and didn't shy away from sharing details about their personal life, Oscar often preferred to keep his privacy.

However, when it came to his girlfriend, it was a different story altogether.

Oscar was what people called "a total simp" when it came to his girlfriend, always bringing her up in interviews, promo videos and casual conversations, and fans couldn't miss the opportunity to make several compilation videos and tiktoks about it.

The most popular one was called "Oscar Piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation" and the 15-minute long video was filled with moments that made fans both awe and laugh.

It started with the clip of the first time he publicly talked about her during a podcast interview, rumors about him not being single were spreading around but nothing was confirmed.

"I do have a girlfriend, yeah," Oscar said, a small smile playing on his face.

"You're not very public, aren't you?" the interviewer asked.

“We keep it to ourselves and try to be out of the spotlight and just live normal lives,” he replied, “We have been dating for over four years now, she has been there for me since the start of my career and I couldn't imagine my life without her. She's my biggest supporter and keeps me grounded.”

The next video showed Oscar and Lando sitting next to each other wearing their McLaren shirts, filming a game called "Green flag or Red flag."

"Picky eaters," the interviewer asked and Lando immediately waved the green flag.

"He's a very picky eater that's why," Oscar said, making Lando laugh, "But, what if they eat fish, cause you hate fish."

Lando dramatically raised the red flag, making everybody laugh again.

"You wouldn't date a pescatarian then," the interviewer said.

"No," Lando shook his head, "They shouldn't be here."

"My girlfriend's a pescatarian, actually," Oscar said, looking at his teammate with a raised eyebrow, "I'll pass that on to her.”

"Noooo mate!" Lando immediately shook his head, waving his hands in mock horror, "Don't tell her I said that, I don't want to be in trouble with your missus! She's a lovely girl."

"She is indeed, but I don't think she'll like you very much after this."

The next segment was from his "Day in the Life" video with Quad Lock, where Oscar gave fans a glimpse into his daily routine. In one particular clip, he was in the kitchen making breakfast.

"So, this is where the magic happens," Oscar said with a cheeky grin as he poured pancake batter onto a hot griddle, "My girlfriend loves pancakes, so I make them every Sunday. It's become sort of a tradition for us."

The camera then panned to a candid shot of his girlfriend, who was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and smiling fondly at Oscar. She blew him a kiss, which Oscar caught with a playful wink.

"There she is, sitting pretty while I play housewife."

The next clip in the compilation was from a press conference, where a journalist asked him how he manages to stay focused with such a demanding schedule.

"Having a supportive partner really helps," Oscar said earnestly, "She understands the pressures and the demands of the job. She’s my rock and makes everything a lot easier."

"Does it get hard for her when your schedule is too busy for your relationship?"

"My schedule is never too busy for my girlfriend, I always make sure to make time for her. That's why we've been going strong for four years now."

Another McLaren game with Lando was included, this time they were playing Finish the Lyric with Taylor Swift songs.

"Do you feel confident about this game, Oscar?" Lando asked his teammate.

"I do, actually," Oscar nodded confidently, "My girlfriend is a huge Taylor Swift fan so I know a lot of her songs."

"We should get your girl to come and play then," Lando teased.

"She'd probably beat us both, hands down. But I'm not giving up just yet." Oscar chuckled, shaking his head.

The compilation video then transitioned to a moment in the McLaren garage before the first quali of the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar was off to the side, chatting with his girlfriend, who had joined him for the event.

They seemed to be in their own little bubble, Oscar's attention completely focused on her and his smile wide as he listened to her talk. The camera captured a sweet moment where he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about their relationship and fans absolutely melted at the interaction.

The next clip showed Oscar at a fan event in Australia, hundreds of fans gathered to meet the drivers and see them up close, Oscar was answering questions from the interviewers when he suddenly addressed one of the fans in the front row.

"I've got a girlfriend, thank you," he said into the microphone, making everyone laugh but look confused at the same time, "For everyone wondering, she just asked what my number was," the crowd laughed again even louder, "But I'm a happily taken man. You're nice but I'm not interested."

In that same event, he got asked what did he miss the most from the UK when he was back in Australia.

"My girlfriend," he immediately said, "Other than that the food is better here, the weather is better here. So my girlfriend, that's it."

The following video was also a fan interaction, this time it was a fan recorded video while he was signing stuff for those waiting for him as he arrived to the paddock for the Austin Grand Prix.

Oscar was signing autographs and taking pictures, when a fan handed him a photo of him and his girlfriend from a race weekend.

"Oh, this is a great picture," Oscar said, grinning as he looked at the photo. "This was taken at Silverstone, right? It was her first time at a race with me. She loved it."

"What's her favorite part about the races?" The fan smiled and asked.

"Probably the adrenaline and seeing me in action," Oscar chuckled, "But she also loves hanging out in the paddock. She gets along really well with everyone here."

The next clip showcased Oscar during a Twitch stream, where he was playing a racing simulator. His girlfriend walked into the room, and the chat exploded with excitement.

"Hey, love," Oscar greeted her, pausing the game.

"Am I interrupting you?" she softly asked.

"Nope, come here," he encouraged to come closer, "Everyone, this is my girlfriend," she waved at the camera, and Oscar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the frame. "She's the reason I'm still sane," he joked, earning a kiss on the cheek from her.

The video included one of everyone's favorite interactions between the couple, captured by McLaren's instagram team.

Oscar had just finished a quiali, earning a P2 position, the camera caught as he reunited with his girlfriend who threw her arms around his neck as soon as she saw him.

"Hiii," he shyly said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"You did such a great job, baby," she said, still wrapped around his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on," he replied, his voice soft and genuine.

The final clip was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Oscar stood on the stage, dressed in a sharp suit, the Rookie of the Year trophy shining in his hands.

"First of all, I want to thank my team, McLaren, for believing in me and giving me the opportunity," Oscar began, his voice steady but emotional, "But most importantly, I want to thank my girlfriend. She's been my rock through it all, supporting me every step of the way. This award is as much hers as it is mine."

The camera panned to his girlfriend, sitting in the audience with tears in her eyes, smiling proudly. The fans watching the livestream couldn't help but gush over the touching moment.

As the compilation ended, the screen faded to black with the text, "Oscar Piastri: The Ultimate Simp, and Proud of It."

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen p.t 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

Summary: read part one here

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1,173

A/n: help i forgot i had this in my queue LOL mb!!!

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Rafe’s absence a hollow ache beside you. You’d grown used to the warmth of his arm around you, the gentle rise and fall of his chest that lulled you to sleep each night. Without him, the bed felt colder, lonelier, and you couldn’t shake the memory of Kayla’s confident words as she chose him, as if she held a secret you didn’t.

Leah rubbed your arm in comfort, her eyes softening. “Yeah, must be tough after last night. The whole situation was shit. I don’t know what Kayla was thinking.” You managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Neither do I, honestly. Rafe said there was nothing to worry about, but then she just… picked him. It just doesn’t make sense.”

You caught Sofia’s gaze, and she gave you a small, reassuring nod. “Maybe it’s not as deep as it seems,” she offered. “Maybe she just picked him because he looks good on paper—he’s confident, attractive, all that. She probably just wanted attention.” You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words, but the unease still simmered.

You nodded, trying to find comfort in her words, but the uncertainty still twisted inside you. Rafe had reassured you last night, had looked you in the eyes and held your hand with that steady, familiar touch that always made you feel seen. But now, with the memory of Kayla confidently choosing him and the doubt simmering beneath, it was harder to trust that feeling.

Leah’s voice broke the silence, softer now. “Have you talked to him about it?” You sighed, closing your eyes briefly as if that might ease the knot in your chest. “He tried last night. But I… I couldn’t. I was too hurt, too angry. I didn’t even know if I could believe him.”

Sofia’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think he’s probably feeling the same, People make decisions that don’t always make sense because they’re worried about what everyone thinks.” You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to steady your breathing.

Maybe they were right��maybe it was all just the game getting in your head, Kayla’s pick a calculated move, an attempt to create drama or stir things up. But the memory of Rafe looking away as Sophie announced your single status felt too raw to ignore.

~

Later that morning, as you sat in the makeup room, humming softly to yourself as you applied your skincare, a knock sounded at the door. The other girls exchanged glances, then called out, “Yeah, we’re dressed!” The door creaked open, and Rafe peeked in, his gaze instantly landing on you. He lingered in the doorway, holding a tray with coffee and breakfast.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his expression somewhere between hopeful and tentative. “Brought you breakfast.“ You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks,” you replied softly, surprised at how sincere he looked, how he seemed to truly want to make up for the night before. He set the tray down beside you and took a step back, as if unsure whether he should stay.

“Could we… talk?” he asked, his gaze flickering to the other girls, who quickly exchanged sympathetic glances. Leah gave you a small nod, then ushered everyone else out with a quiet, “Alright, let’s go, girls.” You sent her a grateful look as they slipped out, leaving you alone with Rafe.“Can I sit?” he asked, watching you closely, his eyes searching for any sign of welcome.

You nodded, and he pulled up a chair, watching you as you took a sip of coffee. It was exactly how you liked it, and that little detail twisted something in your chest. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to meet your eyes.

“I need you to believe me,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I swear, I didn’t think she’d actually pick me. I thought I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested.” You looked away, biting down on the emotions that threatened to spill over. “Rafe, you don’t understand. You were there, comforting me, telling me everything was fine… and then she chose you. It felt like a slap in the face.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I tried to make it clear to her, but I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have let her think there was even a chance. I just… I don’t want to lose you over this.” For the first time, his words began to chip away at your hurt. His eyes held that raw sincerity, the vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

And as much as you wanted to cling to the anger, to shield yourself from the fear of being hurt again, a part of you knew he was being honest. You bit your lip, studying his face as he spoke, trying to gauge his sincerity. He looked back at you, a hint of desperation in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore. “You have to believe me,” he continued, voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else. It’s just you.”

Your shoulders relaxed, the anger ebbing slightly, though the doubt was still there. “Okay, Rafe,” you said finally, your tone soft but uncertain. “But actions speak louder than words. If you really mean it, you’ll have to prove it.” He nodded earnestly, relief flickering in his eyes as he reached for your hand.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll prove it every single day if I have to. Just… give me a chance.” You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then smiled—a genuine, soft smile that reminded you of all the moments that had made you fall for him in the first place. “Finish your breakfast,” he murmured, nodding toward the tray. “I’ll be right here.”

[alienzil]

Grandfathered In

There, a job well done. Alfred thought to himself as he put the last grocery bag in the back of the car. Meal planning and shopping for a family as large as his own (and their semi frequent unexpected guests) did take quite a bit of his time but he'd managed to finish a bit early this week.

Alfred was thinking fondly of spending his extra time with a nice cup of tea and a book when he heard a noise from the nearby alley.

He stilled and listened intently. That was the sound of someone in pain. A child in pain if he wasn't mistaken (a sound he would rather he wasn't so familiar with). Well then, the tea would have to wait.

Alfred quietly moved into the alleyway, his hand inside his coat gripping the pistol hidden there. Hurt child or not, it never hurts to be cautious in Gotham.

"Good Heavens!"

There was a boy with pure white hair and bright, barely open, luminous green eyes. He was curled up, partially hidden by the dumpster, clearly barely clinging to consciousness and was oozing bright green blood from a large abdominal wound as well as several smaller cuts and burns.

He approached slowly and held out his hands to try to appear as friendly and non threatening as possible. "You appear to be in a bit of trouble young sir, perhaps I can help?"

The boy nodded weakly and Alfred knelt down and reached to pick him up. Best to get him into the car quickly and make use of his emergency first aid kit to stabilize the boy then get him home for further treatment. The hospital clearly wasn't an option for the young Meta... or alien perhaps? Something to ask once the boy was up to it.

Alfred carefully cradled the child and briskly moved back towards the car. He appeared to be a young teenager but he weighed so little, Alfred almost felt as though he was holding a toddler rather than a teen.

He lay the boy down in the back seat and leaned over to reassure him, gently moving his hair out of his eyes and petting is head in a soothing gesture. "There now, we'll have you right as rain in no time."

"Ha" the injured young Meta tried to laugh. "Might take...some time.. Don't ya think?"

Oh he'd fit right in, Alfred couldn't help thinking. Sassing even as he lay there bleeding. Well, in spirit if not quite the usual appearance, Alfred considered, eyeing the white hair and bright green eyes but-

A bright white suddenly light filled the car. Alfred blinked away the spots from his vision then stared in astonishment at the now black haired, blue eyed boy before him. Well then, fit right in indeed.

*****

Bruce blearily wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table just barely holding in a yawn. He'd been in space on a mission with the Justice League for over 3 weeks and had only just gotten back to Earth in time to crash into bed and get a few hours of sleep before he had to be back up.

He reached for his coffee and looked around the table at his children. Tired as he was, it was good to be home. It even looked like everyone had made it for breakfast, a rare event for their family. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...

"Who's this?" Bruce asked with friendly smile. Did one of his kids make a new friend?

Alfred silently appeared next to him. "That is your son."

"My son?" What was happening? Bruce was too tired for this. He counted again, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...he looked closely at the last one. Black hair, blue eyes. Looks like one of his... He had no idea who this child was.

"Your son." Alfred said firmly as he sat some papers next to Bruce's plate.

Bruce looked down. Those were adoption papers.

"Oh. My. God." Stephanie whisper screamed from across the table. "That's where B got the adoption habit from!"

Bruce's attention was diverted from the multiple children trying to shush Stephanie as an uncapped pen was placed in front of him. He looked up as Alfred raised a single eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

"Right, of course. My son."

He quickly scanned the adoption papers as he signed them then looked over at his latest child.

"Welcome to the family, Danny."

Note: I don't currently have plans to continue this. Anyone can add on if they would like to :-)

[moonlightwritingf1]

Tempting Surprises | LN4

ᰔᩚ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/n have been dating for two months and are both in love but haven’t confessed. One Friday, Y/n decides to surprise Lando and finally take their relationship further. She asks him for money, buys sexy lingerie, and models it for him during dinner. As she reveals the final set, the tension between them escalates.

ᰔᩚ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᰔᩚ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.2k

ᰔᩚ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The sharp chime of her phone jolted Y/n awake, pulling her from the lingering fragments of a dream that had left her cheeks flushed. She blinked at the screen, the sunlight streaming through her curtains catching on the text notification.

Lando: Morning, love. Need anything? Coffee? Breakfast? Your favorite croissant from that bakery you won’t shut up about?

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh. Always so eager, she thought, but the fluttering in her chest betrayed how much she secretly loved his relentless attention. Still, she couldn’t let him off easy. Not yet.

Y/n: Actually… I need to ask you for something. Something important.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, and before she could second-guess herself, she hit send. The reply came almost instantly.

Lando: Name it. Anything.

Y/n: I need money. About £500.

There was a brief pause, and she could almost picture him raising an eyebrow, his lips curling into that mischievous grin she both adored and dreaded. Then, her phone buzzed again.

Lando: Done. Check your account. And don’t even think about paying me back.

A notification pinged moments later, and her eyes widened at the figure. It was more than she’d asked for—far more. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, “He’s ridiculous.” But the warmth spreading through her chest told her everything she needed to know. He wasn’t just indulging her; he was showing her, in his own way, how much she meant to him.

By noon, she was out the door, weaving through the bustling streets of London with a singular mission. The boutique windows gleamed with temptation, and she allowed herself a rare indulgence, stepping inside one after another to select pieces that made her feel powerful, desired, dangerous. Each lingerie set was a statement, a promise she intended to deliver on later that evening.

---

Lando arrived at her apartment precisely at 7 PM, his arms filled with takeaway bags. The aroma of sushi wafted through the air as he stepped inside, his bright blue/ green eyes scanning the room for her.

“You’re late,” Y/n teased, leaning against the doorway to her kitchen, her tone light but her gaze sharp enough to make him falter.

“Traffic,” he shot back, setting the bags down on the counter. “And I had to endure the smell of raw fish for you. Do you know how disgusting that is?”

She laughed, the sound soft and melodic, and crossed the room to inspect the food. Sure enough, there were her favorite rolls, perfectly arranged, alongside his more mundane choices. “You hate sushi, yet you still bring it every time. Why?”

He shrugged, his expression casual, but the intensity in his eyes gave him away. “Because it makes you smile.”

The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She glanced away first, busying herself with plates and chopsticks, but her heart raced as if she’d run a marathon.

They ate in comfortable silence, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Every brush of their hands as they reached for the same piece of ginger sent sparks racing up her arm. Lando watched her intently, his gaze lingering on her lips as she chewed, on the way her hair fell over her shoulder when she leaned forward.

When the last bite was gone, she stood abruptly, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I have a surprise for you.”

His eyebrows shot up, curiosity and excitement mingling in his expression. “Oh? Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” she replied, disappearing into her bedroom before he could respond.

Lando sank back onto the sofa, his leg bouncing with anticipation. The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, the soft click of heels echoed down the hallway. His breath caught as she stepped into view, wearing a black lace bralette that clung to her curves like a second skin, paired with matching panties that left little to the imagination. The thin straps accentuated her shoulders, and the sheer fabric teased at what lay beneath.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n smirked, twirling slowly to give him a full view. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I—” He cut himself off, raking a hand through his hair as his eyes darkened. “You’re killing me.”

She giggled, the sound light and infectious, before retreating to her bedroom once more. When she reappeared, it was in a deep red set, the color vivid against her skin, the plunge of the bra daringly low. She struck a pose, her confidence radiating as she strutted toward him, only to stop just out of reach.

“And this one?” she asked, her voice dripping with mischief.

Lando’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa as if to anchor himself. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Who said anything about playing fair?” she shot back, vanishing again.

By the third set—a delicate white number adorned with pearls—his resolve was crumbling. His cock strained against his jeans, the outline unmistakable, and Y/n couldn’t help but revel in the power she held over him.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused, his voice thick with frustration and arousal.

“Immensely,” she admitted, her grin widening.

The fourth and fifth sets pushed him further to the edge, but it was the sixth and final one that shattered whatever remained of his self-control. This time, there was no lace, no frills—just two small patches of fabric barely covering her nipples and a single string nestled between her thighs. Lando’s breath hitched, his knuckles white as he gripped the sofa, his entire body taut with need.

“Y/n…” Her name sounded like a plea, a prayer, and she felt a thrill at the sound.

She strolled toward him, her hips swaying deliberately, until she stood mere inches away. “Yes, Lando?” she purred, tilting her head as if daring him to make the next move.

But he didn’t speak. Instead, his hands shot out, grabbing her waist and pulling her down onto his lap. Their lips crashed together in a searing kiss, all pretense stripped away as the tension finally snapped. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned against her mouth, his grip tightening as if afraid she might disappear.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Lando pressed his forehead to hers, his voice trembling. “You’re going to ruin me.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Isn’t that the point?”

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot and urgent as he nipped at her collarbone. Y/n arched into him, her fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could fuse their bodies together. He murmured something incoherent against her skin, his hands sliding under her thighs to lift her effortlessly off the couch. She gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively, her heart pounding as he carried her toward the bedroom.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, his voice low and strained, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

She didn’t answer, just pressed her lips to his jawline, teeth grazing his stubble as she teased him with soft, fleeting kisses. Her touch was deliberate, every movement calculated to drive him wild. And it was working—his breathing was ragged, his steps quickening as they reached the doorway. He kicked it shut behind them with one foot, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes raking over her body like he couldn’t believe she was real. The last set of lingerie clung to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, and his hand trembled slightly as he reached out to trace the delicate lace at her hip.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. His fingers moved higher, brushing against the fabric that barely covered her breasts. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Y/n bit her lip, her cheeks flushed as she watched him. God, he looked so good, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair disheveled from her hands. She reached up to finish what she’d started, undoing the rest of his buttons until his chest was bare. Her fingertips brushed over his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, and he shuddered under her touch.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need you.”

Those words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as his hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her. His touch was electric, sending sparks shooting through her veins as he slid the flimsy lingerie off her shoulders. His lips followed suit, trailing down her neck, her collarbone, until he reached her breast.

Her breath hitched as his tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing her relentlessly. She squirmed beneath him, her nails digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please…”

He chuckled darkly, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “So impatient,” he teased, his thumb brushing over her other nipple. “What happened to taking our time, hm?”

Y/n groaned, throwing her head back against the pillows. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.” His grin was wicked as his hand slid lower, slipping between her thighs. She gasped, arching off the bed as his fingers found her slick heat. He circled her clit slowly, deliberately, watching her reaction with rapt attention. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”

She moaned, her hips rocking against his hand as he increased the pressure. Her eyes fluttered shut, her entire body coiled tight with tension. But just as she felt herself teetering on the edge, he pulled away, leaving her gasping for air.

“Lando!” she whined, glaring at him through hooded eyes.

“Patience, love,” he said, his smirk widening as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. Her gaze dropped to his cock, hard and throbbing, and her mouth went dry. He climbed back onto the bed, hovering over her as he kissed his way down her body, pausing to nip at her inner thighs before finally settling between her legs.

His tongue flicked against her in slow, torturous strokes, teasing her until she was writhing beneath him. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her thighs trembling as he worked her into a frenzy. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right to make her see stars.

“Oh god—” she cried out, her back arching as pleasure crashed over her in waves. She came undone, her vision blurring as he continued to lap at her, drawing out every last tremble until she collapsed bonelessly against the mattress.

Lando gave her a moment to recover, kissing his way back up her body until his lips met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it only made her crave him more. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his cock and guiding him to her entrance.

“Inside me,” she demanded, her voice shaking with need. “Now.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Are you sure—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, pulling him closer. “I’m sure.”

With a groan, he pressed into her, filling her inch by agonizing inch until he was fully sheathed. They both stilled for a moment, foreheads pressed together as they adjusted to the sensation. Then Y/n shifted her hips, urging him to move.

Lando obliged, setting a slow, steady pace that quickly built into something more frantic. His thrusts became deeper, harder, each one driving her closer to the edge. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as she urged him to go faster.

“God, you feel—” he broke off, his voice strangled as he buried his face in her neck. “You feel so fucking good.”

She could only nod, her own words lost in the haze of pleasure clouding her mind. Every nerve in her body was alight, every touch, every movement sending ripples of ecstasy through her. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned in response, his rhythm faltering.

When she felt him tense, his thrusts becoming erratic, she knew he was close. He pulled out suddenly, his hand wrapping around his cock as he spilled himself across her stomach and pussy. The sight of him, breathless and undone, sent a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room their labored breathing. Then Lando glanced down at her, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “You look so fucking hot like this,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

Y/n laughed softly, her cheeks burning as she reached for the sheet to clean herself up. But his hand stopped her, catching her wrist mid-motion.

“No,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Leave it. You’re perfect.”

Lando’s hand lingered on her wrist, his fingertips brushing against her skin in a way that made her pulse quicken. “Leave it,” he repeated, his voice low and husky, the words settling into the air like a command she couldn’t ignore. His eyes held hers, intense, filled with something she couldn’t quite name—admiration, desire, maybe even tenderness. She felt exposed, not just physically but emotionally, under the weight of his gaze.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heartbeat still racing. She glanced down at herself, her stomach streaked with him, and a flush crept up her neck. “You’re insane,” she muttered, though there was no bite to her words. Her voice was soft, almost shy, as if she weren’t entirely sure how to handle this version of him—the one who looked at her like she was everything.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, and it sent a ripple of warmth through her chest. “Insane for you,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder. His lips were gentle, almost reverent, and it made her shiver.

She turned her head to look at him, her cheeks still pink. “You’re impossible,” she said, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“And yet here you are,” he teased, his fingers trailing up her arm. “Stuck with me.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. The room smelled of them, of sweat and sex, but there was also something sweet lingering in the air—something undeniably intimate. Y/n wasn’t used to this, to being so completely seen, so completely known by someone. It terrified her, but it also exhilarated her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Finally, Lando shifted, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer. “Come on,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s clean up.”

She hesitated, her body stiffening slightly at the thought of moving. But then he was sitting up, his hands gently guiding her to do the same. When she stood, her legs felt unsteady beneath her, but Lando was there instantly, his arm slipping around her waist to steady her.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, his tone reassuring.

She nodded, letting him lead her toward the bathroom. The tile floor was cool beneath her feet, and the air was thick with steam as Lando turned on the shower. He adjusted the temperature carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, before stepping back to let her step in first.

The water was warm, almost soothing as it cascaded over her skin. She closed her eyes, letting it wash away the remnants of what had just happened. But then she felt him behind her, his chest pressing against her back as his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her shoulder.

She tilted her head, glancing back at him. “For what?”

“For tonight,” he said simply. His voice was soft, almost vulnerable, and it caught her off guard. “For trusting me.”

Her breath hitched, her heart swelling in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded, her fingers curling around his forearm as he held her.

They stood like that for a while, the water running over them, washing away the tension and the heat that had been building between them all night. It was strangely peaceful, standing there with him, their bodies pressed together without any expectation or urgency. Just… them.

Eventually, Lando reached for the soap, spreading it between his hands before smoothing it over her shoulders and down her arms. His touch was slow, deliberate, and she couldn’t help but lean into it.

“You know,” she began, her voice hesitant as she stared at the tiles in front of her. “I didn’t actually need the money.”

His hands paused for a moment, and she could feel his confusion radiating through the silence. Then, softly, he asked, “What do you mean?”

She swallowed hard, her cheeks heating as she forced the words out. “I… I used it to buy the lingerie. All of it.”

There was a beat of silence, and then he chuckled, the sound low and warm against her ear. “Fuck, Y/n,” he said, his hands resuming their gentle movements. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he corrected, his tone teasing but sincere.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she turned to face him, her hands resting lightly against his chest. “Is that what you are?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at her, his expression softening as his hands came up to cup her face. “If you’ll have me,” he said, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

She didn’t know what to say, her mind racing as she searched his eyes for some hint of doubt or insincerity. But all she found was him—raw, unfiltered, and utterly honest. And for the first time, she let herself believe it.

Leaning up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was softer, slower than any they’d shared before. It wasn’t desperate or hungry; it was real. And when she pulled back, his hands were still on her face, his forehead resting against hers.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing patterns against his chest. “Funny,” she whispered. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

They stayed like that for a while longer, the water running over them as they held each other close. There were no more words, no teasing or jokes—just the two of them, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

But eventually, Lando broke the silence, his voice light and mischievous again as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So… does this mean I get to pick out your next set of lingerie?”

She swatted his arm, laughing despite herself. “Don’t push your luck, Norris.”

He grinned, his hands sliding down to her hips as he pulled her closer. “Oh, I think my luck’s pretty damn good right now.”

[please-destroy]

It Only Takes A Moment

Natasha Romanoff x Shy!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

“I feel like shit.” 

Natasha commented out of nowhere from the sofa across the room. 

You startled at her unexpected statement. Your cereal-filled spoon froze halfway to your mouth. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Natasha since you joined the Avengers six months ago.

Then, you noticed Clint shuffling bleary eyed towards the fridge. Your shoulders relaxed.

He yawned, rubbing his face as he regarded Natasha assessingly. You were perched at the breakfast bar, unobtrusive as usual.

Natasha was on the opposite side of the large space, feet curled beneath her on the tiny sofa. 

A purpling bruise on her cheek and a split lip were the painful remnants of her last mission. She looked pale too, tired in an almost chronic way, despite the empty coffee mug next to her.

“You look like shit, too.” Clint decided at last with a lazy grin. 

Natasha smirked back, obviously satisfied with his teasing response. You remembered your cereal and took another spoonful. Curiosity always burned inside you when you watched the two of them interact. You’d never had a mission with either of them before. You didn’t understand the lightness of their back and forth.

As you chewed on your breakfast, eyes roaming over Natasha’s injured face, you felt concern build inside you.

Clint gave you a friendly nod as he stacked a pile of snacks in his arms and left the room.

A steady silence returned in his wake. You were unbearably shy around Natasha as a rule. Something about her calm confidence and unreadable expression made you feel nervous. 

You knew the other Avengers just thought you were quiet.

Natasha was staring absentmindedly out the large window, her coffee long since finished. You followed her gaze outside, glancing up at the pale yellow sun that was still new in the sky.

You watched Natasha’s mouth twist into a subtle grimace of pain as she lifted her hands to try and tie her hair back in a ponytail.

You felt certain as you watched her that her injuries were more than just a bruised cheek. The worry bubbled inside you.

Eventually, Natasha gave up, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders in a loose curtain. She looked entirely unlike herself. Until today you’d never seen her hair out of a braid.

You slipped off your bar stool and cringed at the way it squeaked on the tiled floor. You hesitated as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. Every day usually followed the same pattern. You knew Natasha was paying no attention to you, expecting you to leave the kitchen and go back to your room. 

When you turned instead to the coffee machine, you felt Natasha’s eyes flicker back to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

.

When you walked over to her, fresh cup of coffee in hand, it was the first time you’d ever surprised Natasha. 

You handed her the mug with a wordless smile.

Natasha’s answering smile was soft but her eyes held a subtle confusion. 

‘Thank you.’ She breathed, blowing automatically on the hot liquid. 

Nerves fluttered inside you. You forced yourself to speak.

‘Are you really okay?’ You asked, as your worry escaped you.

For a brief moment, shock rendered Natasha silent. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at you.

You didn’t know where your bravery was coming from. A burning embarrassment began to build inside you.

Natasha’s expression softened suddenly. She hesitated and then started to speak. 

‘I’m okay. Just had one of those missions.’

You nodded in response, your eyes lingering automatically on the painful looking bruise. From the things you’d overheard about the mission, you knew she was underplaying it. You bit your lip. Natasha watched you silently. 

‘Can I help with your hair?’ You asked at last, in another worried burst that you couldn’t seem to control.

A slight flush caught Natasha’s cheeks. Something like shame flickered in her eyes, gone a moment later.

Your breath caught. She was more human than you’d realised. More beautiful too. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha replied quietly. ‘I think I’ve hurt my shoulder.’

You nodded again, moving to stand behind the tiny sofa. You lifted her hair tie from the side table and slid it over your wrist. 

You felt Natasha’s body freeze at your first hesitant touch. 

You knew she was expecting you to tie her hair back in a quick ponytail. Instead, hardly daring to breathe, you tried something different. 

Natasha’s breath hitched when she realised what you were attempting. 

You started carefully, twisting pieces of hair together.

‘You don’t have to braid it.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, her quiet voice burning with a sudden rawness. You found yourself wishing that you could see her face. 

‘You like it braided.’ You answered simply. 

Natasha held herself impossibly still as you tried your best to replicate her usual braid. You noticed the light goosebumps raised on her skin.

Eventually, you tied the last piece, your fingers lightly brushing against her neck. 

You moved back around the sofa to face her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the flushed cheeks or your imperfect braid that made Natasha look so young. Her gaze searched yours, her eyes vulnerable.

‘It’s not very good.’ You apologised quietly. 

Natasha shook her head.

‘It’s good.’ She countered simply. There was a raw, raised scar on the back of her hand. You wondered how you’d never noticed before.

Natasha nodded to the space next to her on the sofa. She smiled suddenly, a flash of her usual cool confidence.

‘Do you want to watch some TV?’

You nodded, feeling a warm rush at the familiarity of her tone. A barrier had fallen between you. 

As you settled on the sofa, Natasha switched on the television. The daytime show was familiar, often left playing in the background of the room. 

Natasha touched the end of her braid as she watched. Her gaze stayed on the show, a picture of relaxed attention. 

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. Her light joke to Clint played in your head. The bruises, the scars, the pained movements. 

 After a few minutes, another question fell from your lips. 

‘Was it scary?’ You asked suddenly.

You watched Natasha freeze momentarily, a difficult emotion filling her eyes. You watched her blink the feeling away. She didn’t reply. 

You turned your gaze back to the television, stomach twisting for what she didn’t share. 

Eventually, you settled back against the sofa cushions, finally beginning to relax in her presence. Natasha sipped the last of her coffee.

Your usual shared silence returned.

You hoped you hadn’t ruined everything with one question.

The show ended and a commercial break began.

‘It was.’ Natasha murmured unexpectedly. Your head turned towards her.

‘It was scary.’ She whispered into the air.

This was not Natasha. Not the person everyone else saw. This was someone else. You saw her entirely for the first time.

Unspoken sympathy filled your answering gaze. 

You took her scarred hand in yours and rested it on your lap.

[cheriedivine]

Handcuffed couple challenge (youtuber!Ellie x reader)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem reader (No use of y/n)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ summary: Filming a handcuffed couple challenge with Ellie, what could possibly go wrong?

♡‧₊˚₊✧ CW: Slightly suggestive jokes, Swearing, use of pet names (bae, babe, baby) just Ellie and reader being silly

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Tags: youtuber!Ellie, youtuber!reader, stablished relationship, oneshot, fluff

♡‧₊˚₊✧ WC: 7.4K (lol)

♡‧₊˚₊✧ Author’s note: HEYYY SO IT’S FINALLY HERE, you guys have no idea how much I enjoyed writing this, ofc it’s based on Izzy&Emma’s latest yt video where they do the 24hrs handcuffed, but i gave it my own twist hehe, I hope you guys enjoy it and lmk what you think! also i’m open to requests if y’all want anything in specific. that’s all luv u enjoy <3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

One thing about Ellie Williams is that when something gets into that pretty little head of hers, you are doomed. Especially when it comes to recording a video for your shared youtube channel.

This time was no different.

It was 2am when Ellie, half-asleep and deep in a TikTok scroll spiral, stumbled across a video of a couple doing a ridiculous cooking challenge handcuffed together, laughing and making a complete mess of their kitchen. That was all it took.

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed. Your girlfriend? Nowhere to be seen. Weird… You thought,

You blinked at the ceiling for a moment, brain foggy with sleep, before shrugging it off. She probably hit the gym early or something, she did that sometimes. Still half-asleep, you sank deeper into the blankets and started your usual doom scrolling, checking socials, reading comments, answering emails. The usual.

An hour passed, and your stomach started to grumble from the lack of food. You glanced at the time, then at the door. “Where the hell is she?” You debated waiting for her to eat, but curiosity won so you pulled up her contact to text her. But you can swear this girl is telepathically connected to you because as soon as you clicked on her contact, a message from her popped up like she was psychic.

“Has your majesty risen yet? I’m bringing breakfast ;)”

You rolled your eyes, already smirking.

“U are such a loser. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Miss me much?”

You didn’t even have to see her to know she was surely wearing that smug stupid little grin the one that made you want to kiss her and throw a pillow at her face at the same time.

With a dramatic sigh, you finally rolled out of bed, heading to the bathroom for your morning skincare routine. The splash of cold water brought you fully to life. You threw on one of Ellie’s hoodies — for warmth, obviously, not because it still smelled like her, and shuffled into the kitchen to feed your cat.

“Pspspsps, T-Rex. Breakfast is served,” you called, holding the food dish. The little fur ball meowed like he hadn’t eaten in a decade, purring as you scratched the back of his head.

That’s when you heard the front door unlock.

Ellie walked in, balancing a pair of grocery bags and a cardboard drink carrier with two coffee cups. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up, her tattoo flexing on her forearm and there was a determined (and slightly unhinged) look in her eyes.

You blinked. “Ellie, what the hell? We weren’t supposed to do groceries ‘til Sunday.”

She dropped the bags on the counter and grinned. “Good morning to you too. And yes, I slept great, thanks for asking, babe.” You narrowed your eyes as she handed you a warm breakfast bagel and your favorite coffee.

“…What’s with the groceries and surprise breakfast? What did you do?”

“Can’t I just do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend that I love sooo much?” she said with that shit-eating grin that meant she was absolutely up to something.

“Spill. Now.”

She of course cracked immediately.

“So. I had an idea. Okay? A great one. Picture this: you and me. Handcuffed. In the kitchen.”

You froze. “Woah, woah hold your horses, number 1 why would i want to be handcuffed and number 2 where the fuck are we even supposed to get handcuffs?”

“Jesse” she replied casually.

“GROSS…That’s disgusting.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t want to be handcuffed to me?” Ellie gasped, placing both hands dramatically over her chest. “Wow. Okay. You hate me.”

“You are the most dramatic person on this entire planet I swear” you muttered, already regretting your life choices.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see me try to knead pizza dough with one hand while handcuffed to you?”

You stared at her. She grinned wider.

“I hate you,” you said flatly, taking a long sip of your coffee.

“No, you don’t.”

And unfortunately for you — she was right.

Ellie proceeded to lay out the entire chaotic plan (which, in hindsight, explained the suspiciously full grocery bags). She showed you the TikTok video that had inspired her latest hyperfixation — some couple fumbling through a cooking challenge while handcuffed. “Look at them,” she said, scoffing. “We’d be so much better than this. They didn’t even season their sauce!”

It took a full hour of bargaining, bribery, and Ellie promising to do all the chores for the next two weeks before you finally caved. Truthfully, a small part of you was curious how badly it could go… plus, being handcuffed to Ellie wasn’t exactly the worst fate in the world.

Ellie dragged out the tripod from the closet, the one that had a chipped leg because she refused to buy another one “It works just fine” she said— and began adjusting it like she was some kind of professional cinematographer. Meanwhile, you were getting ready in your room, doing your everyday makeup, some light blush, mascara and setting powder so the light wouldn’t reflect directly on your face, your routine was simple but familiar. You changed Ellie’s hoodie into a plain black shirt that fitted you like a glove, because why not, at the end you still wanted to look good.

Ellie adjusted the tripod one last time, squinting into the tiny screen like she was defusing a bomb. “Okay… I think it’s straight?, the lighting is kinda shit tho” Ellie muttered, twisting the ring light toward your side. “There. Now let’s get this bitch started shall we?” With that Ellie hit the record button, rushed to your side with the handcuffs clinking in her grip, and threw an arm around you.

“Hey losers,” she grinned at the camera. “Welcome back to our channel.” You waved dramatically. “Today, we’re doing something incredibly stupid, which of course was... Ellie’s idea.”

Ellie held up the handcuffs like a trophy. “We’re making a pizza while being handcuffed together,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief. “And before anyone starts—no, these aren’t from last night. These are borrowed. Unfortunately.” You gave the camera a deadpan stare. “Oh my god. Literally everything could go wrong.”

“Okay so who’s gonna be on which side” Ellie raised a brow before putting the handcuffs on, “Wait… are we both right handed?” you questioned, pausing mid-thought. Ellie gave you an offended look. “You should remember if i'm right handed babe” Your girlfriend said teasingly giving you a wink.

“You are such a perv,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes. Then, turning to the camera like you were addressing a live audience: “Well, since I’m the one who actually cooks in this household, I think I deserve to have my right hand free.”

Ellie scoffed. “Um, yeah, but I’ve got more strength in my right hand, so I could knead the dough way better.” To prove her point, she flexed her arm like some kind of gym rat. You stared at her. She was ridiculous.

But you had your ways.

Leaning in close—just enough for your lips to nearly graze her cheek—you whispered, low and deliberate. “If I get to have my right hand free… I’ll let you have a little fun with these later.”

She didn’t even say anything before clasping that handcuff immediately to her right hand. Her freckled face turning fifty different shades of red.

“…Fine. You win.”

You grabbed the other side of the handcuff and clicked it around your left wrist.

“Oh my god, I already hate this,” you groaned, trying to stretch your arm while Ellie moved in the opposite direction like she had no concept of shared space.

“Too late to back out now. LET’S GET THIS SHIT STARTED, BABYYYY!” she screamed in her fake frat-boy voice, throwing both arms in the air and nearly dislocating your shoulder in the process.

You winced. “How about you try not to break my wrist before we even start.”

She grinned like a menace. “Sorry babe. Kinda forgot we were attached for a sec.”

“Did you even look up a recipe before deciding to do this?” you asked, already knowing the answer. She blinked. “Um…nope”

You sighed.

Of course not. That’s why you had been stuck scrolling through your phone for the past ten minutes, trying to find the easiest homemade pizza recipe on the internet—while your hand was getting jerked around like a ragdoll.

“Okay, genius. We need: flour, yeast, olive oil, salt, sugar, and warm water.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Bet. Let’s get this bread. Literally.”

You started pulling ingredients out of the bags while Ellie, predictably, got in the way at every turn.

“Left!”

“Your left or my left?!”

“We share a left right now!”

Ellie poured the flour onto the counter, way too enthusiastically.

“Bae… slow down, this isn’t a sandbox,” you warned, watching the powdery mountain grow taller and messier by the second.

“No no no—this is the volcano thingy! We’re doing it all fancy,” she said, using her fingers to dig a little well in the center like she'd seen on TikTok. “Now pour the warm water and yeast in here,” she added, nodding toward the crater like she was a Michelin-star chef.

You raised a brow. “You’re acting like you’ve trained in Italy. You watched a 30-second reel.”

“Don’t disrespect my culinary heritage,” she said, her hands now fully coated in flour. You leaned in, cautiously pouring the mixture into the well… but oh dear you were mistaken thinking Ellie was gonna behave. She looked directly to the camera and blinked before her flour-covered hand left the dough volcano, and smacked right onto your boob.

SMACK.

A perfect, powdery handprint appeared on your favorite shirt.

You froze. Blinked. Looked down slowly like you were in a movie about to go rogue.

“Ellie Williams…” you said, dangerously calm.

“What?” she grinned, so smug you considered throwing her into the volcano. “Just cleaning off my hand.”

“On my favorite shirt.”

“It’s a work of art, I left my mark. Like a signature. That’s love, baby.”

You gave the camera a long, deadpan stare. T-Rex meowed behind you rubbing his little head against your leg like he understood the gravity of the situation.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

Ellie’s grin only widened. “Oh no!. Am I gonna get punished?” she asked, voice dipping into a mock pout.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as you swiped some flour off the counter and flicked it right into her face.

“Oh it’s on now.”

Despite the chaos, the kitchen started filling with the warm scent of yeast and flour mixing as you combined everything, Ellie took over the kneading (with her left hand, of course), turning it into a flexing contest.

“Check this out,” she said, rolling up her sleeve and smirking at the camera. “These biceps? Built for dough.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile at how seriously she was taking herself. She flexed her arm, giving a playful wink before getting to work on the dough, her hand moving with surprising precision.

“Alright, go ahead and knead that dough, big shot. Show me what those ‘dough-building’ muscles can do,” you teased, arms crossed, watching her go full-on chef mode.

Ellie scoffed but didn’t hesitate, her hands sinking into the dough with exaggerated care. “This right here? The art of pizza-making. Watch and learn.”

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, eyes trailing down her flexed arm. Your gaze lingered on the tattoo on her forearm—the intricate design that you loved more than you'd ever admit.

“Damn,” you said, letting out a low whistle. “Those arms... and that tattoo? I’m gonna need a moment to compose myself.”

You stood next to her, trying to hold back your giggles, but the flour-covered chaos around you only made it harder to be serious. T-Rex jumped on the flour covered counter, sniffing the dough like he was ready to apply his biscuit kneading technique. "Hey, not you too," you said, shooing the cat away.

Ellie, of course, had no intention of letting this become a normal cooking session. She threw you a smirk. “So, you’re just gonna stand there and look cute while I do all the work?”

“Obviously," you replied, leaning back against the counter, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Somebody has to keep the camera in focus while you work."

“Right,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes as she continued kneading. “You’re just here for moral support and laugh at my flour-covered face.”

"True," you agreed, brushing the tip of her nose with your flour coated finger, you could tell that despite the playful banter, Ellie was surprisingly proud of her skills—despite the flour in her hair, and the random stray bits of dough sticking to her shirt. She paused for a moment, looking over at the camera. “You guys, this is actually kind of fun. like the adult version of slime”

“Who said adults can’t play with slime” you pouted jokingly, “Society.” you laughed out loud at the brunettes response, Ellie grinned, obviously pleased with the teamwork. “Just wait ‘til the pizza’s done. I’m gonna blow your mind, babe.”

“Ok now we need to let the dough rest for about two hours, or until it’s doubled in size—“ “WHAT? TWO FREAKING HOURS?” your girlfriend interrupted, clearly upset by the statement. “Yes Ellie…, now don't be impatient and let’s start with the marinara sauce” you tried cheering her up by occupying her mind on something else.

Ellie dragged you to where the tripod was situated, almost safely and changed it’s angle so the camera got a better view of you and the stove, “Alright all set, so what’s next babe?” she asked, looking at you with her mesmerizing green eyes. “Wait i got distracted— Ok so now we open the tomato cans and pour them into the pot with a little bit of olive oil, a garlic clove, some basil leaves and obviously salt and pepper”.

“Okayyyy chef, see guys that’s why she stays in the kitchen— wait that sounded so wrong… does that count as sexism if we’re lesbians?” Ellie said worried, but you laughed easing her nerves a bit “You are so stupid I think i'm in love with you” She blushed at your comment and proceeded to try and open the can, and try in the sense that you were holding the can while she placed the can opener on the brim of the can. “Why is this shit so hard bro”

Finally after battling with the can for a few minutes Ellie managed to get it open, triumphantly holding up the can opener with a smug grin on her face. “Hey, babe, check this out.” She held the tool in front of you like it was some sort of weapon, pointing at it dramatically. “This... is a can opener,” she said with a wink, then pointed at herself with a teasing smirk. “And this... is a leg opener.” There was a pause before you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for the camera. “I swear, I’m deleting this footage later, just so you know.”

With a final defeated sigh, Ellie popped open the tomato sauce can. “See, I’m good at this.” she said as she started to pour the sauce into the pot. But just as she tilted the can, a little too much sauce splashed up and hit her favorite hoodie. Tiny bright red sauce drops splattered in the center of her chest.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing. “That is literally karma” you teased, your voice dripping with mock pity. “Looks like it’s your turn to clean up, chef.”

Ellie looked down at the red stain, then back at you, unphased. She wiped a bit of sauce off her hoodie with the back of her hand and smirked. “See, this is what happens when yall don’t appreciate my cooking skills.”

“STOP ELLIE YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE, DON'T WIPE THE SAUCE OFF YOU'RE MAKING A MESS ” you whined at your girlfriend, the hoodie was in fact worse than before. That sauce was not going to come off anytime soon “The only mess i wanna make is the one with your—“ You smacked your free hand on her mouth before she could even finish the sentence. “One more dirty joke and I’m duct taping your mouth shut” you warned her, eyes fixed on hers.

Her eyes sparkled like she might actually enjoy that. You narrowed yours in return.

“Anyway,” you sighed dramatically, turning to face the camera again. “Back to the video. We’re gonna let the sauce simmer with some seasoning and, fingers crossed, it’ll turn out edible.”

Ellie leaned in to sniff the pot. “Smells good. Gordom Ramsey BEWARE we’re coming for you”

You laughed and grabbed your phone again. “Okay, while that simmers, we can start chopping the toppings. You’re on mushroom duty.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me handle the knife? While we’re handcuffed?” She said looking directly at the camera like she was some sort of reality cooking show “I trust you babe, just try not to chop your good fingers off.” you said teasingly, Ellie rolled her eyes and with a sigh she settled a few mushrooms on the cutting board and hoped for the best, “You sure you want ME doing this?…” Ellie looked at you, trying to reverse-psychology herself out of the situation, but when you saw how truly worried she was, you took the responsibility of chopping the toppings, while Ellie placed them on little bowls carefully.

“Okay you know what, maybe we should just settle for a classic pepperoni and cheese pizza…” you said glancing at the terribly chopped mushrooms in front of you, Ellie gave you a side eye that said more than words could tell, and you agreed to keep it simple and overall safe.

“Alright guys the chopping is canceled, sometimes you just gotta accept the defeat and move on, even I have to back off sometimes you know” Ellie said dramatically, like she was giving a pep talk to the camera.

“Ok, ok now what the hell are we supposed to do while we wait for the dough to rise?” you asked your girlfriend, “I know some ways we could kill time you know” She said with that stupid grin on her face.

“I would kill you right now but I’m attached to the crime scene so…” you said flatly, looking her dead in the eye, while she was trying to hold her laughter. This girl is going to be the death of you literally.

After a few minutes of thinking what you could actually do, Ellie leaned back against the counter, tapping her fingers like she was waiting for lightning to strike. You were scrolling through the recipe again, double-checking you hadn’t missed anything—until you noticed she was just staring at you.

“What?” you asked, not even looking up.

“I have an idea.”

You sighed immediately. “Of course you do.”

“Hear me out babe, blindfolded lipstick challenge while also being handcuffed… ” she said, already reaching for her phone, to look for the video that had inspired this idea. “We’ve got at least an hour before the dough’s done doing its thing, right?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Ok I’m in, but you should be the one putting the lipstick on me since you’re the one missing your dominant hand.”

Ellie lit up like a Christmas tree at the idea, pushing herself off the counter and dragging you along by the handcuffs toward the tripod. She grabbed it, still grinning, and carried it to the bathroom, where you both agreed the lighting was better (and the mirror would save your lives). You set the tripod down carefully on the sink, adjusting the camera just enough to keep both of you in the frame. Meanwhile, Ellie fumbled with a sleeping mask, pulling it over her eyes and completely blacking out her vision.

“Alright guys, while we do this, I’m gonna read some of the questions you sent to our Instagram story earlier,” you told the camera, trying not to laugh at how serious Ellie looked fumbling blindly with the lipstick in her hand.

“By the way,” Ellie interrupted, lifting the lipstick like it was a microphone, “if you don’t already follow us, it’s either because you’re a loser or you’re new here. Either way, all our socials are linked down below.”

You snickered under your breath as she tapped around your face, trying to locate your lips with the lipstick.

“Anyway, back to the questions,” you said, pulling out your phone. “First one: How did you guys meet?”

Ellie let out a dramatic sigh, like she was preparing to tell an epic love story. “Ah, finally, a normal question. Okay. So, we met in college. I was majoring in Visual Arts, because obviously, gay. And she—” she nodded blindly toward you, “—was majoring in Film. We crossed paths a few times, and I basically had a huge hallway crush on her.”

You smiled at the memory, leaning into her light touch as she awkwardly dabbed lipstick near your mouth.

“We found out we had a bunch of mutual friends, they introduced us, we started talking... and then you know, classic slow-burn, painfully homoerotic friendship that turned into this," Ellie said, waving the lipstick vaguely at the handcuffs between you. “Very on brand for us.”

You both laughed, the camera catching everything perfectly—the lipstick smudging halfway across your cheek, Ellie’s huge grin under the sleeping mask, and the pure chaos that somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah at the moment I didn’t realize I was a lesbian yet, so that explains the homoerotic tension and painfully slow burn” you explained while Ellie still struggled to locate the lipstick where it needed to be.

“Dudeee stop moving, I can't do this if you keep talking—“ She said desperately “—Ok wait just let me read this question and I’ll let you do your work” you assured her.

You were mid-scroll, trying to find the next question, when you burst out laughing. “Oh my god—okay wait, this one is messed up. Who even asked this?”

Ellie paused, lipstick still in one hand, her other hand hovering awkwardly over your face. “What is it?”

You cleared your throat dramatically and read it in your best game show host voice.

“Would you rather: see your parents having sex... or have your parents see YOU having sex?”

Ellie ripped off the sleeping mask, like she couldn’t believe her eyes (or more likely her ears). “I think I spoke too fucking soon about you guys submitting normal questions.”

You were already crying, laughing, clutching the sink for balance. “I’m not answering that.”

“Oh no, you read it out loud. Now you have to.”

“I literally can’t choose, both are psychological terrorism.”

Ellie made a face like she was in physical pain. “Okay, okay, I think... I’d rather them see me. Just so I have the power. I can be like, ‘That’s what y’all get for traumatizing me first.’ Turn it into a full circle revenge arc.”

You wheezed. “Oh my god.”

“Now you have to answer,” your girlfriend insisted, like a puppy waiting for a treat. “I think I rather see them having sex, but just because I think i’d be too embarrassed and would actually die on the spot if they saw me, so yeah thats my answer, and also it couldn’t get worse you know—“

“—Ok that’s valid.” She pointed the lipstick at the camera like it was a weapon. “Whoever submitted that, you are sick, why would you even think that”. Ellie laughed, but it came out more like a smirk. She adjusted the sleeping mask back in her eyes again and continued to “apply” the lipstick on you.

“Okay I think I’m almost finished— time for the big reveal now, but close your eyes. On the count of three. One…”

“Two” you said in unison.

“Oh god im scared—“ you said already knowing your face probably looked like you made out with a crayon.

“THREE”

You looked in the mirror, bursting into laughter at the sight of the lipstick smeared well past your lips and halfway down your chin. “I look like I just made out with a clown.”

Ellie beamed. Tears in her eyes from the previous laughing fit “You’re welcome.”

“Ok now it’s my turn” you said, snatching the lipstick from her hand, Ellie was still snorting at your lipstick stained face, admiring her work of art, when you tugged the sleeping mask over your eyes. “Okay, my turn. Hand over your face.”

She scoffed, grabbing your wrist and guiding the lipstick into her face “My beautiful face is ready for the sacrifice.”

“Just stay still and don’t make any faces,” you warned, already gripping her chin with your handcuffed hand like an amateur dentist.

“No promises,” she said, settling back on the toilet lid, legs spread like she was about to do an interview with Vogue. She reached for your phone and scrolled through the next question from the Q&A sticker. “Ooooh, here’s one: ‘What’s your biggest ick about each other?’”

You and Ellie both went “oooooh” at the same time, the camera catching it perfectly.

You grinned mischievously. “I’ll go first. Ellie chews on random shit like a dog. Pens, her hoodie drawstrings, bottle caps… one time I caught her with my AirPods case in her mouth.”

Ellie gasped in mock betrayal. “IT WAS ONE TIME.”

You pointed at her. “One time too many.”

Ellie chuckled darkly. “Alright. My ick for you? You take hours to reply to texts. Like, I’ll send ‘are you alive?’ and you’ll answer six hours later with a meme.”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “I have a very active brain. I can’t be tied down.”

“This is your mouth, right?” you asked, blindly smearing the product around her lips like a toddler with a crayon.

Ellie was laughing. “I think that was my nostril, but I’ll allow it.” You giggled, blindly tapping her cheeks with your fingers.

“Okay, next question,” she said, biting back a giggle as the waxy tip grazed her nose. “Oh my god. You’re drawing on my nose, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m outlining your beautiful upper lip,” you lied blatantly, tongue poking out in focus as you smudged the lipstick across half Ellie’s cheek. “Next question, babe.”

Ellie cleared your throat dramatically. “If aliens came to Earth and offered to take one of you back to their planet forever, who would go?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Ellie. Because she’d cry less than me.”

“True, but also It would give me such good lore”

“Shhh,” you hushed her. “Stay still or I’m gonna give you a mustache.”

She burst out laughing as you smudged even more lipstick on her chin. “I swear to god, you’re using my face like a sketchpad.”

You peeked under the blindfold to see her face—her entire mouth, nose, and even her forehead now stained with lipstick from constantly touching her face mid-application.

You shrieked. “You look like the joker”

She looked at the camera with a straight face. “Guys is it giving performance art makeup yes or no”

“You’re giving a sick Victorian child ” you wheezed, “Can we do one last question please” you asked Ellie, she nodded while looking for one last question to end the little q&a.

“Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

Ellie leaned closer to the camera like she was telling a secret. “It was me. But I thought she was asleep when I said it, so technically I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“I was literally AWAKE. I was just pretending to sleep because I was so nervous I felt like my heart was getting ripped off my chest”

“You were fake sleeping?” she gasped. “You mean I confessed my undying love to a decoy?”

“Literally yes. But I said it back the next morning, so it still counts.”

“Okay, but can we just acknowledge how poetic that moment was? Me, whispering ‘I love you’ into your unconscious body like a sad poet?”

“And me pretending to sleep like a coward,” you added.

After a few more minutes of waiting — and filming a whole artsy montage of you both modeling the masterpieces that were your lipstick-smeared faces — the dough had finally doubled in size.

Which meant: pizza assembly time.

“Can I roll the dough?” Ellie asked, already scraping the dough out of the bowl with one hand.

“Of course, babe,” you said sweetly. “Just don’t rip my wrist out of the socket while you do it.”

Ellie shot you a cocky grin, grabbed the wooden rolling pin, and planted her uncuffed hand firmly on the left side. You lined up your hand on the right, both of you teamworking the shit out of it — handcuffed, half-delirious, and still somehow making it work. Once the dough was flattened into a kinda-sorta-acceptable circle, you grabbed the pot of sauce and spread a thick layer across it, narrating every step in your best fake cooking show voice.

“And now, we generously apply our lovingly handcrafted marinara— Ellie, STOP eating the toppings!” you snapped, catching her with a full knuckle of shredded mozzarella halfway to her mouth.

She rolled her eyes and popped it in anyway. “Party pooper.”

You dramatically sighed, sprinkling the rest of the cheese over the pizza. That’s when it hit you.

“Oh, fuck, Ellie, we forgot to preheat the oven!”

Ellie froze mid-bite. “...The oven works? I thought it was like a landlord myth.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “Do you even know how to turn it on?”

She shrugged, wiping her cheese-sticky fingers on her jeans. “Not a clue.”

Still filming — the camera balanced on the counter catching every second of this— you both stared helplessly at the untouched oven. After a few seconds of aimless button pressing and frustrated groaning, Ellie threw her head back.

“That’s it. We’re bringing out the big guns.”

She fished her phone out of her pocket (with much difficulty, considering the handcuffs) and FaceTimed Joel.

You both stared at the screen, waiting.

After a few rings, Joel’s tired face popped up — and the second he saw you two, his mouth opened like he was about to say something but no words came out.

“What the hell...?” he finally managed, blinking hard at the sight of his daughter and her girlfriend covered in what looked like smeared clown makeup, chained together by a pair of suspiciously shiny handcuffs.

Ellie cracked up immediately. "Heyyy Joel. We’re filming a video. Long story. Anyway— can you PLEASE tell us how the hell to turn the oven on before we burn the house down?"

You leaned into the frame, offering Joel your sweetest sauce-smudged smile. "Hi Joel!"

He shook his head slowly. "Y’all look like you lost a fight with a three-year-old and a Crayola factory."

Ellie wiped a fake tear. "That’s the nicest thing you've ever said to me, man."

Joel groaned. "And what’s with the damn handcuffs? Jesus Christ."

You started giggling. "Content, Joel. It’s for the content."

Joel gave the camera a look so fatherly it could've been framed. "I don’t even wanna know what kinda content y’all makin'. Alright, listen up. Find the oven buttons."

Ellie spun around dramatically, dragging you along with her. "Found 'em! There's like, a hundred buttons, though!"

Joel sighed, like he already regretted answering. "It ain’t rocket science, El. Look for somethin' that says 'Bake'."

Ellie squinted. "Okay, okay, I see it—What temperature should I set it at?"

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Put it to 400."

"Yessir," Ellie saluted, poking the buttons with her free hand while you tried to steady the camera, still filming everything.

Meanwhile, Joel just kept staring at the two of you. "And you’re really just... sittin' there... wearin’ kids' makeup and chained together like morons."

Ellie grinned wide. "Yup. Living the dream, old man."

"World’s gone to hell," Joel muttered, but he was definitely smiling a little now. "Alright, once it’s preheatin’, leave it alone. No touchin' it. And for the love of god, don't try shovin’ the pizza in there without help, you'll burn the damn house down."

You gave a thumbs-up. "Thank you Joel! Love you!"

He shook his head but you swore you saw the smallest smile tug at his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kiddo. Don't die."

With that, he hung up.

Ellie turned to the camera with a shit-eating grin.

"And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was Joel Miller making his monthly YouTube appearance ."

You cackled, wiping some flour off your forehead.

"I can already smell the comments."

Ellie threw an arm (and by proxy, your handcuffed arm) around your shoulders.

"We should make him do the 'Handcuffed Baking Challenge' next time."

"Joel would rather be hit with a golf stick" you snorted.

"Facts," Ellie agreed proudly.

After hanging up with Joel, you and Ellie high-fived but it came out more like an awkward clank of your wrists, and turned back to the unfinished pizza sitting on the counter.

“Alright, final touches before this baby goes in the oven,” you announced, grabbing the bag of pepperoni.

Ellie wiggled her eyebrows. “Let’s make a pepperoni shaped figure on it.”

You snorted. "Like, a heart? A smiley face?"

Ellie grinned mischievously. "Nah. I was thinking something more mature."

You gave her a warning look. “If you suggest a dick shape, I swear to god—”

Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "I would NEVER—okay, I was totally thinking a dick shape, but whatever, party pooper. Smiley face it is."

Handcuffed and giggling like idiots, the two of you painstakingly arranged the pepperonis into a smiley face, which turned out looking more like the default male roblox face. It took way longer than it should have — every time Ellie moved a piece, she’d yank your wrist with her, causing you to mess up your side, and vice versa.

"STOP MOVING!" you cried.

"I CAN'T, YOU'RE BREATHING TOO LOUD," Ellie shot back, sticking her tongue out in concentration.

Finally, after what felt like a solid ten minutes of struggling, the pizza was ready — just as the oven beeped, signaling it was preheated.

"Moment of truth, baby," Ellie said solemnly.

Together, you shuffled over to the oven like some three-legged race team from hell. You opened the oven door (barely), Ellie held the pizza tray with one hand, and you guided the oven rack out with your free one.

T-rex was awakened from his nap by the sound of you guys fumbling with the oven door, which caused him to meow so loud, you thought Ellie had stepped on his tail.

"Please don't drop it, please don't drop it, please don't drop it," you chanted under your breath as you both maneuvered it inside.

Somehow, miraculously, the pizza slid into the oven without major casualties.

You both whooped and fist-bumped midair.

"Alright, while that's cooking, we should probably clean up... before Joel somehow senses the chaos and drives over here," you joked, grabbing the dirty bowls and utensils.

Ellie groaned dramatically but helped you anyway, dragging you along to the sink like a reluctant kid.

The two of you struggled through washing dishes — you holding the plates, Ellie scrubbing them, occasionally splashing water all over the counter (and each other).

"This is teamwork, right?" Ellie said, throwing a sudsy sponge at your chest.

"Teamwork makes the dream work, baby," you said, wiping the water off your shirt with exaggerated dignity.

Facing the camera, Ellie leaned closer, water dripping down her sleeve.

"I just want the record to show," she said seriously, "that I do in fact help with the dishes in this house"

You bumped her hip with yours. "Barely."

Ellie laughed, then turned to the camera again, her green eyes bright.

"Alright guys, if you’re still watching this mess, comment down below who do you think is carrying this relationship: me, or her?" she pointed at you with a soapy finger.

You gasped. "First of all, it’s me, easily. Secondly, stop slandering me on MY YouTube channel."

Ellie wiggled her brows. "Our channel, babe. Equality."

“Equality would be you doing more of the dishes,” you muttered under your breath, making the camera catch it, and sending Ellie into another fit of laughter.

Just as you finished drying the last plate (and somehow still soaked the front of your shirts), Ellie sniffed dramatically.

"I'm actually so proud of us babe, even if the pizza turns out like shit (Which it wont) we did such a good job for being HANDCUFFED"

You leaned into her, grinning.

"Yes I agree, it wasn’t half as terrible as I thought"

Ellie flexed her still-cuffed arm like she was being awarded a medal.

"Told you It was a great idea"

“Yeah, yeah, now let's settle down for a bit — my legs hurt from standing up all day," you huffed dramatically, dragging Ellie along with you towards the couch.

Ellie clumsily carried the camera with her free hand and set it down on your little coffee table, adjusting it so you were both in frame. Finally, you collapsed onto the couch, feeling like you could melt into the cushions.

"I'm so hungry I could eat T-Rex," you groaned, your cat immediately hopping onto your lap and purring loudly.

"HEY. WHAT THE HELL," Ellie gasped, immediately scandalized. "Leave our baby out of this" She reached out with her free hand to pet T-Rex, who purred even louder at the attention.

"Who's a good boy? Who’s mama's good boy?" you cooed, scratching his chin just right, making his tail twitch with satisfaction.

Ellie watched the scene with a blank face before deadpanning at the camera, "I just got a girl boner from that."

You gave her a scandalized look and tugged at the front of her hoodie. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet," Ellie said smugly, ruffling your hair, "you’re still with me. Tragic."

You rolled your eyes, settling back against her shoulder. "If you could only bring one thing to a remote island, what would you bring?" Ellie asked suddenly, throwing the question toward the camera like it was a game show.

You answered without hesitation. "You. Obviously. There’s no one else I'd rather be stuck with."

“Aweee—“ Ellie's face went soft immediately, cheeks flushing pink. She leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“—Same for me," she murmured, then smirked. "And honestly, if we were stuck on some island together, we would definitely survive. We'd never be bored."

You pulled back just enough to squint at her suspiciously. "Again with the sex jokes. I'm trying to have a moment here, Ellie."

"You love it," she teased, winking at the camera like she was hosting a late-night comedy show. "But seriously," she continued, getting a little more earnest, "I think we’d keep each other sane. Or, you know... drive each other insane. Either way, it’d be fun."

You laughed, leaning your head against her shoulder again.

"Besides," Ellie added with a shit-eating grin, flexing her arm dramatically, "you'd need my big strong arms to protect you from wild animals or whatever."

You pulled back, raising an eyebrow. "Define big."

Ellie clutched her chest like you’d just stabbed her. "You’re so mean to me on camera. They're gonna think you’re the top”

You snickered. "Oh my god."

Just as Ellie was about to ask another stupid hypothetical question, a loud beep echoed from the kitchen.

"Saved by the bell!" you gasped, practically throwing T-Rex off your lap meowing in betrayal as you and Ellie scrambled to your feet, your girlfriend rabbed the camera off the table with her free hand. "Alright guys, moment of truth. Will it be edible? Stay tuned."

You wobbled into the kitchen together like a two-headed creature from a sci-fi movie.

Somehow you managed to get the oven open without burning yourselves alive. Ellie used a kitchen towel to yank the tray out while you hovered next to her, uselessly gasping and flapping your free hand like that would help.

"Hot hot hot hot hot!" Ellie hissed as she placed the pizza down on the counter.

You both leaned over it, admiring your work.

"Honestly?" you said. "We ate this shit up."

"I wish you guys could smell it, it’s fucking heavenly." Ellie declared, giving the camera a dramatic chef's kiss.

You quickly sliced up the pizza using the pizza cutter, the two of you fighting over who was worse at it. Once you had two steaming slices on plates, you remembered the handcuffs and gave Ellie a mischievous look.

"Okay. We have to feed each other," you said, grabbing your slice with your dominant hand and holding it out toward her.

Ellie immediately cackled. "Cheers baby"

Still filming, you both counted down — "Three, two, one" — and tried to feed each other at the same time. Both of you missed by like three inches.

The pizza folded, the toppings slid around, and when you finally did get a bite into your mouth—

"AH FUCK, IT’S HOT!" you both yelled, flailing dramatically.

Ellie was fuming out of her mouth, nearly dropping her plate. "I think my taste buds just dissolved."

You fanned your mouth like that would help, eyes watering. "I can’t feel my tongue."

Eventually, once your mouths stopped being on fire, you both flopped onto the floor, handcuffed, eating pizza straight from the plate like it was a survival movie.

Ellie leaned into the camera with a dead serious face. "Let’s try again, I couldn’t taste anything other than lava"

You guys took another bite of the pizza (blowing it off a bit so it would be edible) and it was actually very tasty, the surprised look on each other’s faces said everything.

“This is so good I could orgasm right now” You said dramatically. “Just proving once again lesbians can do anything” Ellie added, proud of her work.

Between bites, Ellie looked at the camera, grease on her chin, and said, "We would could definitely make it to Masterchef"

"Absolutely" you agreed through a mouthful of cheese.

After a few minutes of shoving pizza into your faces, you both finally sat back up, looking absolutely wrecked — sauce stains, flour in your hair, and lipstick smears everywhere.

Ellie reached over and adjusted the camera a little, her fingers smudging the lens slightly. “Alright losers thanks for watching our video, it means a lot to us” You giggled, wiping your mouth on your sleeve. “But seriously, thank you for hanging out with us today, and for putting up with whatever this video was.”

“We love you guys so much, for real,” Ellie said, her voice a little softer now. She reached over and bumped your shoulder with hers. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe, you know leave a little comment and let us know if you like this type of videos or what would y’all like to see” You leaned into her, smiling. “And also thank you for sending in the craziest questions, you guys rock”

Ellie laughed under her breath and turned her head slightly, looking at you — her eyes all soft and melty despite the absolute war crime that was both your appearances.

Without thinking, you tilted your head too, closing the small gap between you.

Just as your lips brushed hers, you saw Ellie smirk against your mouth and suddenly lift her free hand to slap it over the camera lens — cutting the video feed to black mid-kiss.

The last thing the viewers heard before the screen went dark was the soft sound of you laughing against her lips and Ellie whispering, “So… about what you said earlier”

[sweetdispatch]

Not saying I love you back

Players headcanons summary: how certain players would react on you forgetting to tell i love you players: Cole Caufield, Adam Fantilli, Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Quinn Hughes, Clayton Keller, John Marino, Matt Rempe, Juraj Slafkovsky

C. CAUFIELD

You wanted to mess with Cole while he was leaving for morning skate. When he closed the door and didn’t hear I love you back, he stepped again into the apartment. You giggled at his reaction. He approached you and repeated those words again to you but you only kissed him. He was looking at your face trying to read if he made you mad but when he saw the smile creeping at your face, he realised that you were only joking with him. “Not funny” Cole said to you and left the apartment for good now. You quickly sent him a message saying I love you but he only liked it. Two can play this game - he thought to himself. 

A.FANTILLI

Adam would be taken aback when you didn’t respond to his words. He was always telling you that those words mean a lot and he wouldn't just say them to say. That’s why when you didn’t say I love you, he thought the worst. That you don’t love him anymore. He got scared that this is your way to break up with him. “Do you not love me anymore?” Adam asked you. From his voice you could tell that he’s sad and then the realisation hit you. You explained to him that you were just joking but he got mad at you for joking about this topic. For the whole day you were trying to apologise to him, promising to never again joke about this. 

N. HISCHIER

At first, Nico didn’t even realise that you didn’t say I love you back. It was so natural for both of you to say it that he had this programmed in his head that you said it. When you noticed that he didn’t react, you tried again later that day. This time, he noticed that you didn’t say it. He looked at you with brows raised and you laughed. You couldn’t pretend anymore and you said I love you back to him, telling him that you tried to get his reaction for the whole day. 

J. HUGHES

Jack looked at you when you didn’t say those words back but didn’t do anything. He knew you and assumed that you’re pranking him again. That’s why for the rest of the day he didn’t say them to you either. You were shocked when he didn’t say them for the whole day because at every opportunity he was telling you that he loves you. When you were going to bed, you said to him I love you. The only response you got was “I know”. You realised that he was pranking you now. 

L. HUGHES

Luke told you those words before he left. You didn’t say them back and for the rest of the day he was wondering what he did wrong. You never acted this way and he was sure that you had to be mad at him but nothing was coming to his mind. On his way back, he bought you a huge bouquet of flowers, your favorite coffee and a basket full of your favorite candy. “I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m so sorry” Luke said and you looked at him with love. You didn’t expect that this little joke would make him so nervous. You told him that you were just messing with him and he acted offended. You kissed his lips and promised him that he did nothing wrong. 

Q. HUGHES

Quinn thanked you for breakfast and said I love you. You only responded to him with “no problem” and kissed his cheek. He knew something was wrong when you didn’t say those words back. He was asking you why you didn’t say it back. You were playing like you don’t know what he is talking about. He was clearly mad at you and this whole situation. He became rude to you. You gave up and told him that it was all a joke but he was still mad that you were playing with his feelings. You promised him not to do it ever again. 

C. KELLER

When you didn’t say I love you back to Clayton, it got him all worked up. He was furious that you didn’t say it. You tried to interrupt him in his monologue but you couldn’t. For him, those words have a huge meaning and if you said them once, you should still tell them unless you don’t feel it anymore. You kissed him when he started talking nonsense and told him it was a prank but he couldn’t accept this and believed there’s a deeper meaning than you haven’t told them. You were saying I love you all the time to him until he finally believed you that you were only joking. 

J. MARINO

At first John was shocked when he didn’t hear you saying I love you back so he repeated it. Again, he got no response and he asked you directly why you didn’t say it back. You just looked at him and laughed. You couldn’t keep the act longer when you noticed his serious face. He was confused why are you laughing because he didn’t find it funny. You explained to him that it was only a joke and he was even more confused. “Why would you even joke about this?” John asked you and you apologised to him telling that you only wanted to see his reaction. 

M. REMPE

You didn’t say I love you back when Matt was leaving for morning skate. You thought that’s gonna be funny to see his reaction. He didn’t react and just left the apartment. You were surprised that he didn’t say anything to you. You expected him to make sure that you still love him. When he returned, he could tell that you were thinking about something and he was confident that you were thinking about his no reaction. “My sister showed me this trend. I know that you love me and wanted to mess with me” Matt told you and kissed your lips. You wanted to prank him but he pranked you. 

J. SLAFKOVSKY

When you didn’t say I love you to Juraj, he froze in place. You were always saying it back but from your facial expression he could tell that you’re not mad at him. That’s why he was repeating those words until you’ll tell them back to him. But you were just standing there smiling at him. Finally he lifted you up and started kissing your face. After each kiss, he said I love you and was doing this long until you said them back.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hiiii hshsh

So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33

Poly!141 plus reader

None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3

I love this idea anon 😩😩

You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.

Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.

It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.

Not even the basics.

Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.

So, you cooked.

Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.

Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”

Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”

Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.

Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.

You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.

You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.

“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”

Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”

And that was that.

You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.

And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.

The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.

Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.

You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.

No. Not tonight.

Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.

You weren’t alone for long, thougg.

Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…

Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”

Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.

Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.

John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.

By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out

Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”

Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.

Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.

And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”

The second time, it was worse.

The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.

It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.

And you? You were running purely on fumes.

But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.

Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.

Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“

“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.

The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.

Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.

Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.

And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.

Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.

That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.

Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”

And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Peaceful as it Comes

Wife Sevika x Female Wife Reader (Fluff)

Domestic moments with Sevikidiki. More than one scenario with head cannons at the very end. :))

Content: Sevika has both arms. Modern Setting. Lots of being in Sevika’s lap and having her hug you from behind. Minor age gap.

Proofread || Note: DAY DREAMING ABOUT THESEE!! Ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes 🙂‍↔️

Breakfast with Distractions

You lived in out in the country with a small, satisfying, house that came with a lot of land. You had your own garden in the backyard, fueled by the river than ran through it. Early in the mornings you’d find yourself sat on a wooden chair, that your wife had built you, with a cup of coffee in hand. The sounds of the birds chirping, breeze blowing the trees, and the soft clinking from the backdoor opening would make the moment further more peaceful. It was your wife.

Sevika approached, standing behind you and staring down at your figure. You had on the dress she’d gifted on your anniversary. A red and white long, flowly dress which you matched with a pair of brown boots. Your wife said it was her favourite outfit, so you wore it often. The smell of her cologne filled your nose and she smiled at your cozied position. Legs pulled up to your chest, cup on your knees, with your hair flowing with the wind that flew by.

Everything was peaceful.

“Morning, you’re already out here?” Sevika broke the silence, brushing a hair from your lips. “Thought I’d finish planting the flowers, I’ve only got a few left.” You answered, watching as she leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. “Y’have breakfast yet?” At her question, you flash a sheepish smile and raise your cup. Coffee was the only thing you’d had.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah, pancakes sound good.”

Entering inside, you tie on your apron and pull out a pan from the cabinet. Your shared house wasn’t fancy, wasn’t fleshy built, but it was enough to satisfy your quiet life. Cracks were common, so were stains, and especially creaks. But it, honestly, only made it feel more like a home. Like you were actually living there.

“In my defence, I was waiting for you to wake up.” You muttered, mixing the milk and pancake batter. “And, you couldn’t of done that yourself?” Was Sevika’s sly response, with her hands on your hips she began swaying them. Guiding them alongside with her all the while peppering your shoulder with kisses. “Your wife’s a little busy.” Though you couldn’t resist it when she was so affectionate. “Oh? Is swaying your hips a distraction? Wouldn’t o’guessed.“ Sevika’s voice low and soft as her hands ran up and down your sides. “Did I say that?”

With the batter finally mixed, you pour some onto the heated pan and spread it into a circle. As the pancakes cooked, your wife turned you around and gave your hips a squeeze. “Still busy?” Forehead pressed against yours, back leaning against the counter with your hands now cupping her cheeks. You smiled. “Not as much as before, no.”

Your eyes met her pretty grey ones and you didn’t stop yourself from being pulled into a kiss. It was slow, just staring into eachother all the while sharing your breaths. Beautiful was what you called it. And when Sevika’s dark lips finally pressed against yours, your mind went blank for a moment. The pancakes didn’t matter. The flowers you had to plant could wait another hour. And, your grumbling stomach could kiss some ass. All you could really focus on was the soft taps your wife left on your lips. The way the warmth of her hands seeped through your dress and heated your skin. The way her breath felt against your face. And the way her lips tasted.

With a lingering peck on your lips, your girlfriend pulled back. “Love my days off.” She whispered, half her attention on flipping the pancake. “If it had burned I would’ve kicked your ass.” You joked, kissing her cheek one last time before going back to preparing breakfast.

“You’re a real distraction, babe.”

“And, you love me for it.”

Take a Break, Don’t ya?

Chores. Chores. Chores. And, some more chores. You’d made dinner, vacuumed the house, and even cleared out some of Sevika’s old papers from her office desk. Now, the last few things you needed to do were: clean the kitchen and sweep the floors. Those were easy tasks, and you were prepared to get them done.

Wiping the marble counters with a wet towel, you made sure everything was squeaky-clean. Made sure the ingredients were arranged perfectly, the sink was empty, and the dishes were where they were supposed to be. It took you about an hour, and in that time frame your wife had returned home and was freshening up.

A damp towel wrapped around her neck, she made her way to you. Wearing a tanktop and a pair of shorts, she looked exhausted. Sevika worked in construction, and that meant constant stress, sore muscles, and injuries. Though they were only minor, scratches and bruises were something you could handle. Not to mention how much muscle she’d put up, it was attractive. Made you horny even on your period.

“Haven’t seen you all day.” Her muscular arms tapping your backside to her front as she breathed down your neck. “How was work? Tiring as usual?” You, settling the pans and pots into the cupboard neatly, asked. Everyday was just as busy as the last, except for weekends; that’s when you and your wife could do whatever you wanted to.

“Y’guessed it,” pressing a heavy kiss on your cheek and pulling away to sit herself down onto the couch. “Hey, dinner’s ready. Grab a plate.” You’d already ate with content and now were waiting for your wife to. Afterwards, the two of you were free to talk and huddle up next to one another. “I will, just come here for a second.”

“You’re not the only busy woman in this relationship.” You flash her a look, tossing the towel into the washer before hanging your apron on a chair. There was more to do, and Sevika wanted you to relax with her? Well, you couldn’t really say no. Not when her legs were perfectly spread and her voice sounded so welcoming.

Plopping down onto your natural seat, your wife’s lap, you take a deep, long breath. It’d been a hot minute since you’d let your sore back slouch. Let your legs relax. “Take a break, alright? I know you’ve been at it for hours.” Sevika shifted on the couch, legs spreading further as she settled you inbetween them. It was like that everyday.

She’d come home, freshen up, and just sit with you for a few. It took your mind off of things, made your tense muscles loose. You appreciated how easily she could get. Also, because she said you’d have more wrinkles if you worked too hard. It was supposed to scare you.

Your cozy little home had one bedroom, one bathroom, and.. well, one everything. The two of you weren’t planning on having kids, not so soon anyways. Sevika knew she’d struggle with providing for them and you knew it’d only be a hassle. Considering you were in your early thirties and she was in her mid forties, she worried about you a lot. You were young and, sometimes, she even felt guilty for “taking away” your freedom. Which was a bit dramatic in your opinion. You chose marrying her, and you never regretted it.

“How was your day? ‘Nd don’t just say good, I know there’s more to it.” Your wife’s arm wrapped around your waist and she burried her face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent and savouring the closeness. Sevika was the kind of wife to call you every few hours when she was away, text you whenever she was on break, and even send you random pictures. Her selfies consisted her biceps, her coworkers, and silly faces. All taken for you to save and enjoy.

“My day? Well, don’t get me started on that creeky little door. I swear, everytime I open it it sounds like I’m in one of those horror movies. And, Sev, you promised you’d fix it and, again! You didn’t!” Your finger pointing to the storage room door that Sevika, somehow, broke by accident. She said she tripped and the whole door fell down. “I put some vegetable oil on the.. screw thingies. I saw it on youtube and, my god, it worked! At first I thought it was click bait but, to my surprise, it was the real deal.”

Your wife’s response to all of that? The occasional humm, a few chuckles, and an abundance of nods. She loved listening to you complain, even talk about the silliest things that happened throughout your eventful day. The thing she most adored was the fact that you’d tell her tiny details rather than the big ones. She remembered this one time where you were rambling on about something that had to do with the TV and had completely forgotten to bring up the fact that you’d cut your finger. You ended up getting a pink, princess bandage wrapped around your thumb.

“Alright, aright. I’ll fix it this saturday.” Her tone unbothered yet full of fondness. “Promise, love. Y’know I’ve been busy.” A laugh left her lips as she squeezed you with affection. It was like everything you did made Sevika completely and utterly happy. Be it wearing her favourite outfit, making her favourite food, or even walking around the kitchen, your wife found you pulling.

“Dinner’s gonna get cold, Sev. I worked hard on that thing.” Your hands giving her thighs a pat, you push off her lap and stand up— only to find yourself pulled back. “Where do you think you’re going? Few more minutes, we can always reheat?” She placed you sideways on her lap all the while nipping at your neck and causing you to giggle. “Vika! Eek!”

“Y’think you can escape me? Now I’ll have to eat you whole!” Her voice a playful gruff as her large hands began to tickle your sides.

“Hey! Hey! Not the—.. not the sides!”

Awsome-Sauce

The two of you decided to settle in an apartment, it was spacious and pretty damn expensive. And, Sevika being a business woman, she provided everything. From the rent to the groceries, it was her money you spent.

In return, the best you could give her was keeping the apartment clean and.. well, a home. Though, Sevika never asked anything from you— only your love and presence. That’s all she needed, and she’d told you that a million times. Whenever she was home, she wouldn’t let you lay a finger on anything that had to do with work. You wanna wash the dishes? Sevika’s alright got it covered. You need to fold the laundry? Your wife’s two steps ahead and even organized all the clothes. The kitchen’s a mess? She’ll be ready to scrub it clean. You never had to worry about a thing.

“Come on, it’s just sweeping. I do it every week day. When you’re not here? Y’know?” The least you could do was help the muscular woman who was cooking dinner, her hands busy with cutting the vegetables. “Nope, you’re gonna sit your pretty ass back on the couch, babe.” Her head turned to you, eyes narrowing at the sight of you holding a broom. “Babe.. seriously?—“ “Yes, seriously. You do s’much all week, take a break.” She motioned towards the couch before turning back to the cutting board.

“And you don’t? I mean, you’re at the office all week. Let me help.” Leaning the broom against the counter, you rest your head against her back and fiddle with her apron. Sevika’s response was a light chuckle, one that made you smile. “True that. But, I still don’t like it when you’re all.. occupied.” She placed the knife down and turned to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Sweeping is all you’re doing, okay?” Her voice was so sweet that it convinced you to do what she said, sweep and sit your ass down onto the couch. “Got it. Just holler at me if you need help, do not hesitate.” You pointed a finger before you reach for the broom again.

A solid thirty minutes later, your girlfriend nudged you. “Dinner’s ready, hope you’re hungry!” Her lips curled into a bright smile, your wife went back to cooking and went all out. Cutting the vegetables, choosing the spices, to adding other ingredients. From the back, she looked smoking hot. Her shoulders toned from her tight black shirt and her muscles clear as day. You wanted her to rip off her clothes and focus on you.

But that could wait.

“Alright, c’mon. Let’s eat.” Sevika’s hand guided you towards the dinner table where you sat down beside her. Yes, she preferred you being right by her side. “The usual. Rice. Hope you like it, baby.” Arm around your hip before she pulled your chair closer.

The dinner table was set perfectly, and you were almost jealous at how easily she’d made the food infront of you. It looked good, as usual, and you dug right in. You were a big fan of Sevika’s cooking, it was like a five-star chef had made it specially for you. You’d never get used to her iconic rice, it was always so flavourful. She’d never share her recipe, though.

Dinner was a blast, and now your stomach was too full. Spread across the couch, head on the arm rest as Sevika sat under your legs, she gave you a smile. “Ate too much?” Her large, calloused fingers massaging your feet. “Wayy to much. But, it was worth it. You make the best damn rice.” You were sure it was the brand of rice, there was no way she could get the consistency so.. perfect. “Good to know you’re satisfied.”

Oh, you were more than satisfied.

“It’s late, y’wanna head to bed?” Her mother-like tone causing you to lazily groan. You were exhausted, but sleep wasn’t exactly what you needed. “Not until you..” a grunt escaped your lips as you sat up. “Tell me your recipe.” Your back cracked like an old lady’s, and you straighten at the sound.

“Recipe for what? The rice?” Sevika pulled you into her lap, you inbetween her spread legs as she brushed back your hair. “There’s no recipe. I wing it.” You snorted at that. “Wing it? You? A business woman? Are you kidding?” No, she wasn’t.

Matter of fact, she was being completely honest. After watching tutorials online, Sevika had picked up on certain aspects of the amount spices she need and what temperature the stove should be on. It was all practice, in her opinion.

“I’m serious.” She gave your back a few rubs, hoping your stomach felt better by now, all the while her opposite hand gave yours a squeeze. “But, if you really wanna know? I use this sause from the store downtown, it’s pretty good.” Her lips curled into a playful smile as she gave your back a pat

“It’s called awsome-sause. Have you heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, shoving her in the side.

“You’re an asshole.”

Kisses

Throughout your marriage, Sevika had grown softer, gentler as you changed and opened further up to her. Like, your new favourite things, new interests, she loved every bit of it.

One change you’d noticed about her was the way she kissed you.

From rough, desperate make out sessions to light taps on your lips. Her tongue would feel the curve of your skin before she’d ask for entrance, compared to before when she’d demand for it.

Don’t get it wrong. You loved when your wife man handled you, took charge and dominated you. But sometimes, all you could really want was her loving side. The side of her where she felt that too much pressure would break you. Where she was so gentle with you that it felt unreal.

Her preferred position was with you sat on the dinner table, legs dangling down and inbetween her own. She’d hold onto your hips, squeeze and rub your skin there before making her way to the back of your head. One hand palming it as the other rested on the small of your back.

Before the kiss would start, she’d just stare into you and whisper a few sweet nothings. A good example being; “I’m the luckiest woman alive.” She had said that almost every day.

Your wife would then pull you into the most beautiful kiss you’d ever experienced. She was nothing like the rough and tough exterior she showed off, she was careful.

She’d often let escape soft, bare audible, grunts. A humm of enjoyment, aswell. She wasn’t embarrassed, just a little self conscious that it made you feel icky— which, it didn’t. And to show so, you’d cup her face and make sure she didn’t pull back. The gesture always made her melt.

Sevika’s breath smelled like cigars and whiskey, the occasional sugar cookie that you’d bake for her. She couldn’t keep herself from loading up on those, that woman would take ‘em everywhere she went.

The few things you’d feel were the way her tongue moved so perfectly against yours, always leaving you squirming. It was something about the way Sevika would groan everytime you did so. Another thing being her lips. She’d used your lip balm and, at first, she didn’t think anything would happen. But, after a few more uses her lips looked plump and shiny. You couldn’t resist giving them a few rubs with your thumb and even a peck of a kiss.