#I still hope it's okay and it just landed funny

[inseobts]

Hii! Hope you are doing good! :> can i please request the Reaction of Luffy and 2-3 characters of your choice when their partner just sometimes gives their booty a simple pat, a gently slap or even a tiny squeeze as their own kind of affection for them? They might also be bold enough to do it in front of other since it is just their own way to say they appreciate their partner.

Thank you for your time and i hope this isn't weird

Booty Pat

gn!reader

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji

words count: 0.9k each

a/n: sorry, I've had writer's block these past few days, but I hope they still turned out well T.T

tags: fluff, humor, established relationship, physical affection, playful

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

When you first got together with Luffy, you weren’t sure how to handle him.

He’s loud. He’s warm. He’s always touching your shoulder, your hand, sometimes flopping across your lap like a big rubbery cat.

You liked it. You really liked it.

But back then, you kept your hands to yourself. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe you were just too shy to be that free. Touching Luffy felt like touching the sun, a little too much all at once.

But Luffy never pulled away. Not once. He grinned when you kissed his cheek. He pulled you into hugs like it was breathing. And after a few months, something in you just… relaxed.

The first time it happens, you don’t even think about it.

You’re walking through the hallway of the Sunny, a towel thrown over your shoulder. Luffy’s standing by the wall, one foot up, talking to Usopp about how he once fought a giant goldfish. Again.

You pass by him, barely listening.

Pat.

Your hand lands right on his butt. Light. Natural. Like you’ve done it a hundred times.

You keep walking.

Three steps later, your brain catches up.

Wait.

You freeze mid-step "Did I just—?"

You turn slowly. Luffy’s head is tilted at you, blinking. Then his mouth spreads into that huge grin he always gives you when you’re being weird.

He starts laughing “Oi, Y/N! Did you just hit my butt?!”

Your face burns “I—I don’t know?? Maybe?”

He’s still laughing “That was funny! Do it again!”

You stare “What?”

“Do it again!” he repeats, turning and sticking his butt out toward you “Come onnnn!”

Usopp’s choking from laughter in the background “WHAT is happening right now?!”

You blink once. Then twice. Then your hand goes out and smack.

Luffy throws his head back “BAHAHA! I love you!”

You grin, finally relaxing “I love you too, idiot.”

A few days later you’re by the railing, watching the sea. Luffy walks past behind you.

Then... Pat.

You freeze. You whip your head around “Luffy.”

He’s already giggling “I did what you did to me!”

You gasp “You little thief.”

“You started it!” he shouts, running away before you can chase him.

Now it’s a Thing.

You pat his butt when you pass by. He pats yours when he’s bored. Sanji drops a plate once when you do it during dinner. Robin covers her mouth politely. Zoro grumbles “I hate this crew” everytime.

Luffy just keeps laughing. Everytime.

And you feel freer. Happier.

You might’ve started as the shy one. But now you’re the Captain’s number one butt-patter. And he’s totally okay with that.

One day you’re lying on the deck, half-asleep, enjoying the sun. Luffy’s voice makes you peek one eye open “Oi, Y/N…”

He stands over you, hands on hips, tilting his head.

“You slapped my butt three times today.”

You squint at him “Only three?”

He gasps “ONLY?!”

You yawn “That’s nothing. I’m pacing myself.”

Luffy bursts out laughing and flops next to you, limbs spread wide like a starfish “You’re so weird.”

“You like it.”

“I do.” He stretches, his shirt riding up a bit “It’s funny. Makes me feel like meat.”

You snort “You are meat.”

๋࣭ ˖ 𐔌 ⸻ ࿐ . ۫

One day Sanji is plating lunch. Zoro is already asleep at the table. Nami’s balancing ledgers while Robin reads quietly. Peaceful. Calm.

Then you walk behind Luffy.

Your hand lifts, and—Pat.

Nice and casual. Right cheek.

Luffy doesn’t even flinch anymore “That one was soft” he says through a mouthful of rice.

“Appreciation pat” you explain.

Chopper looks up from his bowl “What’s that mean?”

“It means they’re in love” Robin answers, smiling gently.

Usopp sighs dramatically “It used to be peaceful around here…”

“Don’t be jealous” you tease, sitting next to Luffy.

Luffy, unbothered, reaches over and places a lettuce leaf on your head.

You blink “What is this?”

“Affection” he says proudly.

“…Lettuce?”

“Yeah!”

“Luffy, no.”

The next day… you’re walking across the deck when you see him. He’s leaning over the side, watching the fish below, all relaxed and dreamy.

Perfect.

You sneak up. Slowly. Carefully.

Then—Pat.

“BAHAHA!” Luffy’s shoulders shake with laughter “You really do it every day, huh?”

“Every hour, actually.”

He turns to face you, eyes twinkling “Is it a rule?”

You nod “Butt appreciation is a serious job.”

He throws his arms around you, pulling you into one of his tight, full-body Luffy hugs “You’re soooo weird” he mumbles into your shoulder “But I like it.”

You grin “Then you better keep that butt safe. It’s a national treasure now.”

He pulls back, suddenly serious. “Do I need to put it in a safe?”

You laugh. “It is the safe.”

Meanwhile, somewhere on the Sunny…

Zoro: “If I see one more slap, I’m jumping off the ship.”

Nami: “You won’t.”

Zoro: “Watch me.”

Usopp: “We’re all just living in Y/N’s world now, huh?”

Brook: “Yohoho! May I pat a booty too—?”

Everyone: “NO.”

Back on deck, Luffy’s grinning like a fool while you sneak another pat on your way past him.

You’re not counting anymore. He is.

You’re at twelve for the day. A new record.

He pumps his fists in the air like he just won a battle.

“TWELVE!!”

You blow him a kiss and call back, “Lucky number thirteen is coming soon!”

He spins around, arms up, ready for it.

“OKAY! I’M WAITING!”

The others groan.

But you just smile.

This is how you love. And Luffy totally gets it.

── .✦ Zoro:

You and Zoro start slow.

Which, considering he nearly sliced your head off the first time you met, is kind of impressive.

He doesn’t talk much. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t do big shows of emotion. But when you touch him, even just resting your hand on his arm? He doesn’t move away. He lets you stay close. Sometimes he leans into it.

Eventually, things change. You get together. And Zoro… tries.

He’s not romantic. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But when you’re alone, he’s soft. Real soft.

You can kiss his jaw and pull at his shirt and he just closes his eyes and lets you. He grunts, sure, and mumbles, “Tch, you’re annoying” but his hand’s already on your back, holding you there.

He’d never say it, but he loves your attention.

Until one day, when you’re walking behind him on the deck one morning. He’s shirtless, of course. Sweaty from training. Muscles flexing.

Your brain turns off. Your hand acts on instinct.

Pat.

Right on the butt. Perfect aim. Not hard. Just… appreciative.

Zoro freezes.

You freeze.

He turns his head. Slowly. Eye twitching.

“What the hell was that?”

You blink “…Compliment.”

He grabs your wrist. Not rough, but firm “Don’t.”

Your brows raise “Why not? I like your butt.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do care...” you say, smirking.

His ears go red.

A few days later you’re in the kitchen grabbing water. Zoro walks past. You’re feeling bold.

You go for it again.

He catches your hand before you make contact.

“Are you serious?” he mutters, gripping your wrist.

You just grin “It’s my love language.”

“My love language is ‘don’t do that where other people can see’.”

You pout “You let me when we’re alone.”

“That’s the point.”

“How?”

“Because no one’s watching!” he snaps, glancing around the room.

Sanji is definitely watching.

And cackling.

Zoro’s eye twitches.

You lean in close, whispering, “I think your crew should know you’re loved.”

He groans “They don’t need to know that through my ass.”

Later that night you’re sitting in the crow’s nest together. Just the two of you. Zoro’s sharpening his swords, quiet as always.

You crawl over and lean against him. He doesn’t say anything, but his arm shifts so you can fit under it.

You smile “Can I touch your butt now?”

He exhales slowly “You’re so annoying.”

“But you like me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Your hand drifts down.

This time, he doesn’t stop you.

You grin into his shoulder “So soft.”

He grumbles something under his breath.

You pretend not to hear him whisper, “Only you get to do that.”

The next morning you walk past him on the main deck.

You raise your hand.

Zoro glares before you even make contact.

“Don’t.”

You laugh “Okay, okay.”

You wait until you’re alone again.

Then—Pat.

๋࣭ ˖ 𐔌 ⸻ ࿐ . ۫

You’ve been good.

Sort of.

You don’t touch Zoro’s butt in front of the crew. Not technically. Not unless you’re quick and sneaky. Or it’s dark. Or no one’s facing your direction. You’ve developed stealth.

But Zoro is a swordsman.

His instincts are terrifying.

So no matter how fast you move... Wrist. Grabbed. Every time.

“Stop trying it,” he grumbles, walking beside you one afternoon “You’re not slick.”

You smile sweetly “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do.”

You absolutely do.

Later, in the galley the crew’s eating dinner. Luffy’s stacking plates with meat, Sanji’s yelling, and Zoro is sitting next to you, arms crossed, calm.

Too calm.

You glance at his profile.

Sharp jaw. Broad shoulders. That little frown he always wears like it’s stitched to his face.

You bump your knee against his under the table.

And when he's about to stand up he glances at you.

You grin.

Your hand slides behind him and he catches your wrist. Under the table.

Without looking.

You nearly burst out laughing.

He squeezes your hand under the table and mutters, “You’re gonna make me leave.”

You whisper, “I'd like the view anyway.”

He grunts. But he doesn’t let go of your hand.

Not yet.

Meanwhile… Nami is staring.

Robin’s hiding a smile behind her book.

Usopp squints “Are they fighting? Or flirting?”

Sanji: “Honestly, with those two? Who knows.”

Luffy looks over “Zoro’s mad again?”

Zoro looks up “I’m not mad!”

Everyone stares.

Zoro realizes what he just yelled “…Shut up.”

Later that night you’re in the hallway, just outside your room. Zoro’s stretching, half shirtless, towel around his neck.

You pass by.

You don’t even think this time.

Pat.

Zoro whips around “You promised!”

“That was hours ago. New day.”

“It’s still the same day!”

You lean against the wall, grinning “It’s our thing. You’re just in denial.”

“I’m not—!”

You tiptoe up, hands on his chest now “Admit it. You like it. Just not when people see.”

He looks away, ears turning red “…Yeah, well. Not everything has to be a damn show.”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That’s fair.”

Then your hand drops—Pat.

He groans “You are the worst.”

You grin “You love me.”

He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t stop you either.

The next morning you reach out in the galley.

Zoro doesn’t block you.

You blink “Wait. Are you letting me—?”

SMACK.

Right on your own butt.

You freeze.

Zoro stares at you, completely straight-faced “Balance.”

You gape “You just—?!”

He shrugs and walks away like it never happened.

Sanji drops a plate.

Usopp is screaming.

Luffy’s clapping like a seal.

Robin: “…Interesting.”

You’re left in shock “He fought back.”

You smile.

“Oh, it’s on now.”

── .✦ Sanji:

You’ve always been the affectionate type.

Hugs? Yes. Kisses? Any time. Sitting in Sanji’s lap while he chops carrots? Standard.

So when you pat his butt one day as you pass him in the galley it’s not planned. Not even a big moment.

In facts, he’s leaning over the counter, stirring sauce, saying something about the perfect thickness.

And your hand just acts on its own.

Pat.

A quick, loving little thing. Like closing a cabinet.

And without even thinking, you’re already walking away when you hear a “Mon dieu.”

You turn back.

Sanji’s frozen in place. His cigarette has fallen out of his mouth. His entire body is trembling.

“Did you… was that… on purpose?” he whispers.

You raise an eyebrow “What? Did what? Oh... Wait, the butt thing?”

He grabs the counter. His knees wobble. He’s vibrating.

“You… you touched my—?!”

You nod “Yeah? I mean... I wasn't thinking but I like your butt.”

He spins in place. Hearts in his eyes. Actual pink hearts.

“I am in love.”

“You already were.”

“More.”

A few days later you’re walking into the kitchen. Sanji’s tossing vegetables with dramatic flair, humming a little tune. You pass behind him.

Pat.

Right cheek.

“OHHH!” He spins, almost flinging a carrot across the room “Mon amour! Again?!”

You just wink.

He’s already melting.

Luffy: “Oi, Sanji, I’m hungry.”

Sanji, still swirling with glitter and roses “Shut up, I’m being adored.”

One day during a fight, the Straw Hats are surrounded. Some minor pirate crew, nothing serious. Sanji’s kicking through them like they’re made of paper.

You dodge a sword and slide up behind him.

You’re both breathing hard, back to back.

Then, all your brin could think of? Smack.

Your palm lands right on his butt mid-fight.

He gasps “Darling!!”

He twirls mid-air and kicks three guys at once.

“YOU FUELED ME!!”

Usopp: “Did Y/N just slap his ass as a buff?!”

Zoro: “I hate this ship.”

Back on the Sunny…

“You really don’t mind it?” you ask, arms around his waist in the kitchen.

“Mind?” Sanji repeats, stunned.

He turns to you, taking your face in his hands like you’re made of sugar and light “You could grab me in front of the World Government and I’d kiss you on the spot.”

You grin “Is that a challenge?”

“Oh yes, please.”

๋࣭ ˖ 𐔌 ⸻ ࿐ . ۫

The crew has stopped asking questions.

Any time they hear a pat, a smack, or even a playful squeeze, they just brace for the sound of Sanji’s lovesick shout “MON AMOUR!”

Brook: “Yohoho! He’s swooning again.”

Robin: “How charming.”

Nami: “They’re cute but I swear if I hear one more dramatic gasp—”

Pat.

“AHHHHHH!!”

Nami: “I’m moving ships.”

It’s been some time now since the very first pat.

At first, Sanji gasped like you’d proposed marriage every time you touched his butt. Heart eyes. Roses. Knees shaking. Full twirls. Theatrical monologues about how you must truly love him.

But now he looks like he's… used to it.

You pat him when he’s cooking. When he’s slicing. When he’s carrying groceries back from town. When he’s talking to Nami or Robin or any human being, even when he's bickering with Zoro. You sneak it in with expert timing.

At this point, the crew has even stopped reacting. Mostly.

And now Sanji doesn’t even flinch.

This morning you step into the galley. He’s standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up, dish towel tucked in his waistband.

He’s washing plates, quiet and calm, little bits of steam curling up from the hot water.

And he looks really good like this. Focused. Strong arms, wet hands, hair falling over his brow, shirt clinging to his back.

You cross the room like it’s instinct.

He doesn’t turn around. He hears your footsteps and hums lightly “Good morning, darling.”

Smack.

Your hand lands with a clean, perfect sound.

No gasp. No twirl. No drama.

Sanji just keeps scrubbing the plate.

“Careful,” he says. Calm. Smooth. Voice like caramel “I might start to expect that.”

Your fingers curl slightly. Just a little squeeze. Testing him.

Still nothing. A slow exhale. A slight tilt of his head. The corner of his mouth lifts.

You lean on the counter next to him “You’re not even gonna blush? A small drop of blood from your nose for me??”

He doesn’t look at you “If I blushed or got nosebleeds every time you touched me” he murmurs, “I’d die too soon and can't spend the rest of my life with you.”

Oh.

Now you’re the one blushing.

Five minutes later he finishes drying the dishes.

You’re sitting on the counter, watching him, legs swinging “I miss the twirls.”

He chuckles, setting a clean plate down “I still do them. In my head.”

You squint at him “Liar.”

He turns to face you.

And finally he smirks.

“Maybe I’ve just grown stronger,” he says, moving closer “Adapted to your constant, delicious affection.”

You try to keep your cool, but his hands are already braced on either side of your legs “You’re really okay with it?”

He leans in, breath warm “Darling,” he says, lips brushing your cheek, “the fact that you want to touch me all the time is the most romantic thing in the world.”

Then he pats your butt.

You yelp “HEY!”

He laughs, finally showing some of that old sparkle “Just returning the favor.”

You narrow your eyes “You trying to start something, Chef?”

“Only if you’re gonna finish it.” he whispers.

Outside the galley…

Zoro: “They’re still in there.”

Nami: “Yeah, I heard slapping.”

Brook: “I heard love.”

Luffy: “I heard food. Am I wrong?”

[xoxochb]

instance one: the bathroom

“sit,” luke instructs.

obediently, you sit on the toilet seat beside the sink, crossing your legs together comfortably. luke pauses in his movements to stare at you blankly.

“why are you sitting there?”

you shrug. “you told me to sit?”

“no.” he shakes his head, placing his toothbrush and toothpaste on one side of the sink.

next, walking over to where you sit, looping his arms around your waist and picking you up. your hands instantly reach out to hold his shoulders as he moves you to sit atop the sink’s counter instead.

once you’re seated, you latch onto his biceps instead as he straightens you out— smoothing your hair and assuring that you’re comfortable before.

“that’s better.”

you idly kick your feet as they dangle from the sink. luke presses a kiss to your forehead, then another to your mouth before going back to his previous task, brushing his teeth.

your hands fall back to your lap as you lean back against the wall tiredly. you’d much rather prefer to just wait for him in bed yet he had insisted you sit and join him during his night routine.

and you love your boyfriend so you obliged. totally not because you wanted to watch him walk around shirtless or anything…

no. that was not the reason at all.

“can I at least brush my teeth while I’m here?”

luke spits into the sink, using the running water to rinse his mouth, drying it, all before turning his attention solely to you.

“no. just sit there and look pretty.” he pats your thigh lightly.

fine then….

instance two: spring cleaning

“where do you think you’re going?”

“luke.” you drop your arms to your side in theatrics.

from the couch, luke only shrugs and pats his thighs, indicating he’d like you to sit on his lap. you shake your head and he frowns.

“c’mere, pretty girl.”

“I have to finish cleaning. I still need to get to the windows, organize the closet, change the sheets, do my laundry, dust off my shelves, and then after that I still need to—”

before you’re able to make another excuse, luke encircles your waist with his arms and pulls you down to sit on his lap. or, really, drop, as you hadn’t been prepared.

you dig your nails into his arms in horror that you might fall as luke handles you in such a manner. though you did know he’d never let you get hurt, there was no hope that you wouldn’t hurt yourself accidentally.

he makes sure, once you’re seated and collected, that you hadn’t landed in any sort of uncomfortable position. you tuck your legs beneath your bottom as his hand goes to your thigh absentmindedly.

“I have things to do, luke.”

“yeah?” he smirks and begins pressing distracting kisses to your neck. you brace a hand on his chest, though don’t push him farther than he is. “they don’t sound important.”

you sigh and fist his shirt in your palm. “they are. spring cleaning is vital to move into the summer.”

“and what’s gonna happen if you don’t clean?”

“I’ll… well I’ll complain. and you’ll have to listen to me complaining all summer.”

“great. I love listening to your voice.”

you groan and loop your fingers around his camp necklace instead. “luke, please.”

“please what?”

a tug to the beads is his necklace have him pulling away obediently. “please let me clean. you can even help me if you want to.”

“help…” he nods slowly. “that’s funny.”

“I know. I’m a comedian. but it’s either you join me or you sit here and pout while I clean alone.”

“I’ll help.”

“great. now let’s go!”

instance three: baking

“next we need— luke, stop doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“then step away.”

“yes ma’am.”

holding his hands up defensively, luke lets his arms leave your waist as he moves to your left side, not touching you as you work.

“thank you.” you nod at him. “next we need flour.”

“what about me? what can I do?”

you pretend to think for a moment before responding. “nothing.”

“okay. I can do that.”

luke leans back against the counter, watching you with his arms crossed. you take two seconds to linger your gaze at his biceps before looking away to assure he doesn’t catch your staring.

you add in the remainder of the ingredients before obtaining a whisk and mixing them all together within the bowl. though it’d be much more efficient to use an electric mixer you’d preferred to go old-fashioned.

“luke?”

“yeah?”

“do you still want to help?”

eagerly, luke lifts himself from the counter. “yes.”

“great. get a pan. and turn the oven on while you’re at it. please.”

“on it.”

moving past you, luke places each of his hands on your hips, brushing his front against your back lightly. you inhale sharply but refrain from reacting any further as he pulls away and walks to the oven.

the action wasn’t necessary in the slightest. while the oven was on the opposite side of you, he needn’t had to move so close as the kitchen was empty behind you.

but it was luke we were talking about.

when had he ever passed an opportunity to touch you? never.

[centrally-unplanned]

I have begun watching Andor; my first Star Wars media after the the Rise of Skywalker burned all possible hope and legacy the series could ever have. It is pretty good! Finished Season 1, am a few episodes into Season 2 so far - though as usual my thoughts lean towards the complain-y side, don't let that bias you:

Andor at its best is portraying the Empire "in transition", moving towards greater levels of centralization and authoritarianism but no longer at the breakneck pace of coups and gigantic wars. Having say private military contractors filling enforcement gaps, and then being annexed by central authority as the knee-jerk response to the inevitable failures that accrue, causing the center to be overburdened? Very kino stuff. We need more stories about bureaucracy and Andor, while not committed to the bit, at least flirts heavily with it.

What makes the above work is the hard commitment to "realism", and that only works because the show is harshly pretending so much of Star Wars doesn't exist. All these grubby human stormtroopers and officers, making mistakes, defecting, and so on? Why aren't you using, oh I don't know, the clone army you made in the prequels bred for loyalty? I know you have an answer for that in one of your infinite spinoffs, but the answer is stupid and half-baked. Even if you couldn't make everyone a clone, you would still be using the clones, and robot soldiers, and force-sensitive ninja warriors, and all that stuff. Same with a dozen other things - the show will hand-waive away why they are using slave prison labor over droids with "droids are more expensive" but bro - I have seen Star Wars droids, they cost as much as a trash bin because they are sometimes literally trash bins. This is the right decision, to be clear! Just very funny.

Honestly Andor really throws into relief the, uh, arc of both Star Wars & sci fi more broadly? The original films are very "classic adventure", for all audiences - the sci fi elements are aesthetic, the magic elements are loose and mystical, the plot is a Hero's Journey in war. As the franchise grew in the 1980's, it made "1980's content" for nerd audiences at the time - pulpy, action-oriented, and with a lot of "technobabble plots". Oh the Emperor has a clone machine! Oh now we have the Sun Crusher, it crushes suns! This alien species can drink luck somehow! Stuff like this is the bread-and-butter of the EU, and a lot of the ~vibe~ if not focus of the prequels. Time marched on, Star Wars broadened while sci-fi declined, and these stories lost their appeal alongside the audience for Star Wars fully morphing into an "every generation" affair with many older adults wanting content. Andor is of course the answer to that demand, a fully gritty political drama with an entirely-human main cast. But it sits in the same universe as Jar Jar Binks and you can't really escape that.

While the median "expression of political hatred for the Empire" is via a longing for democracy & political freedom, it is very cute to me how "70's liberalism" a lot of the more concrete complaints are coded? There are a lot of vibes of central authority is bad, localism should rule the day, let each unitary planet make its own decisions. The successor government is gonna have a TON of NIMBYs opposed export-focused mining projects on its hands, I do not envy them that. #TeamStripMineGhorman

Why does the galaxy have all these human indigenous tribes all over the place? Did humans evolve independently on all these planets? Presumably these humans are settlers, which means they would have the kind of culture an expansionist, space-faring, scientific civilization would have, right? Awful lot of people crash-landed and lost all their digital books it seems.

Okay, an actual, real complaint now: what is the empire currently fighting? I know that fascist regimes "invent" security crises to justify their authoritarian control, but, well, they kind of don't actually do that whole-cloth, 1984 isn't a history book. It typically is tied to real events, even ones of their own making. If Franco's Spain wanted to allocate 25% of GDP to massive military projects, it was gonna need a reason. And all the senators, who are not imperial propaganda pieces, seem to accept the need for expansive military preparations. So what enemy are these for, exactly? You might say "the rebellion, duh", but that actually doesn't track - for one at the beginning of the show they are explicitly small fry, that is the entire plot. And they are also at this point entirely insurgency-based - not something building more Imperial Star Destroyers really helps you address. The Empire-as-portrayed acts like it has peer adversaries somewhere? It seems like it is conquering planets (and in the lore I think it is). But we never see any of this, it is never actually mentioned. Add Andor to the list of hundreds of stories that finds itself in need of a scene of a dozen people sitting around a big map displaying current strategic threats, priorities, and status-quo force deployments, but is too much of a coward to do it.

*Extremely* cute that apparently the galactic financial system still heavily relies on physical currency. This admittedly isn't a crazy anachronism, I can see how communicating digital exchanges across space might be difficult (ofc Star Wars is completely inconsistent along these metrics but w/e). Someone has gotta tell the Emperor about the blockchain...

Cassian is so much hotter with a beard, he needs to own that and stop all this shaving nonsense he does on and off, get your priorities straight. Bix meanwhile is hotter with ___; it is literally impossible for Bix not to be hot in any context and boy does this show try to disprove that! Fails every time.

[ultrakill-confessions]

(totally not using this blog to workshop potential fic ideas. Nope. Mhmm.)

Was talking with a friend about Minos and lust layer lore recently and I just realised something. During God's disappearance and the beginning stages before the Lust Renaissance, if the sinners and King Minos managed to build anything in Hell at all, that meant Hell cooperated enough for them to have made progress, which is making me feel a lot of things. Hell whom we know to be sadistic and carelessly cruel for its own entertainment would have watched as they built the foundations for a home, brick by brick, and it let them. Maybe it thought all their efforts would be pointless eventually and wanted to see the city collapse on its own. Maybe it grinned at their audacity and wanted to see how far it would bring them. Maybe——and we know Hell probably wouldn't be so generous as to help, but——maybe it was possible to build a civilisation in Hell, because the sinners led by their king held hope in transforming the land, and the land let them shape it into something that could be a haven away from the scorn of Heaven.

Not to mention that the sign in 5-1 ("we will rescue you") means that the sinners managed to build infrastructure spanning layers of hell. And they probably couldn't just dig downwards to get to Wrath. Which means Minos (okay this is entering headcanon territory), as the Judge of Hell, probably had to commune with Hell itself to know if there was a way to supply water from Wrath all the way to Lust. And maybe Hell laughed in Minos' face, all howling winds and gnashing teeth, and still let them build pipes and still let the water flow from one layer to another, because one sinner shared the will with his people to stand in the face of their eternal torment and said, "we refuse", and Hell thought it was such a funny thing that it made it possible.

(When the blood of Minos flowed freely in the streets, down stone walls lovingly laid, into the water drawn from impossible depths, into each crevice and crack that led back into the body of Hell; amidst the cries of husks and the dying screams of their beloved ruler, no one thought to listen for the cold winds outside that had gone silent, as if holding its breath.)

——violence layer anon (did i cook)

-

[the-apple-of-my-eye0-0]

hey, can I ask for Sylus with an mc/reader who has anger issues?

scenario example: Mc was studying for an exam and was googling some stuff to help her get a better understanding of the work but her phone glitches multiple times on end. plus she had a bad day on top of it and ends up almost smashing her phone? like she tosses it to the side but ends up accidentally throwing it over the desk

thank you in advance!

Heyy!! Yes of course!! Here it is, hope you like it!

The past few days have been overwhelming, with each day being worse than the last—but today, today sent you over the edge. It started with an asshole cutting you off while you were driving, almost causing you to crash, then the store was out of your favourite snacks, and your boyfriend’s been away on a work related trip for 3 days now.

Usually you wouldn’t let minor inconveniences get to you as much as they are now. Yeah sure, you weren’t the best with controlling your temper but it wouldn't affect you for this long?

You’ve been trying to study for an exam that was coming up, but your teacher was honestly useless. He didn’t teach you half the things you needed for the exam, only vaguely explaining and dumping all the information into a single pdf file. No explanations, no nothing. So you’ve been up all day and night just trying to wrap your head around it, surviving off a few hours of sleep, so you're extra sensitive to your emotions.

You’re sitting in your boyfriend’s office, wearing one of his shirts, just to try and comfort yourself a little while he was gone.

Just as you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, your phone starts glitching. You try your best to keep your composure—restarting the device a few times, but nothing worked. The stupid screen glitching at your fingertips.

After a few more minutes of this you’d finally had enough. Throwing your phone to the side, expecting it to land on the desk, but you hear the sound of the glass screen hitting the wooden floor.

“Fuck!” You scream, the anger erupting from inside you, digging your head in your hands, admitting defeat.

Before long you stand up, pacing back and forth, trying to expel the anger from inside you, unable to keep still. "Are you fucking serious? Just when I thought things couldn't get any worst, I'm stuck here with a shitty phone, and- I'm done, I'm fucking done with this shit, I don't care if I fail. Fuck this, fuck everything." You allow yourself be engulfed by the fire.

You don't even notice your boyfriend leaning against the doorway, an amused smirk plastered on his face. That was until he clears his throat, pulling you out of your enraged trance immediately.

"What the fuck Sylus? How long have you been there for?"

"Long enough to enjoy the show" he laughs, egging you on.

"You find this fucking funny? I'm really not in the mood for this shit right now." you sneer at him, the anger increasing inside you, threatening to explode. You were on your wits end, and he certainly wasn't helping.

Realising his mistake, he stands straight, his smirk falling "Whats wrong kitten? Did someone do something?" His expression now worried.

"Yeah, my stupid fucking professor, why'd they give him the job if he can't even do the bare minimum, I have an exam coming up and my fucking phone isn't even worki-" the feeling of you going weightless cuts you off. "Let me go!" you kick your legs and swing your arms.

Sylus throws you over his shoulder, ignoring your feeble attempts of escape. "No kitten, you're just stressing yourself out, I won't allow that" he walks into your shared bedroom and places you on the bed gently.

"I've missed you kitten, you haven't even given me a kiss yet." he litters you in kisses before locking your lips with his. You feel yourself calm instantly.

After a few moments you feel your body relax. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have taken it out on you." you apologise.

"It's okay, don't worry baby, I'll help you with your studies. But first I'll get you a new phone, talk to the CEO of your old brand and your university, they're not allowed to get away for free after putting my love through all this stress" he threatens.

You chuckle at his plan. "Thank you baby" you kiss him again.

...

After his impromptu meetings you're sitting on his lap in his office. Watching as he tries to understand the lesson on the screen. "Oh-" he sighs.

"Don't worry kitten, I'll hire the best specialist in the country, we'll learn together." he kisses your forehead, you let out a chuckle, "see I told you"

"Lucky that dumbass won't be your professor anymore"

(Sorry it took a little while! Hope this is what you were looking for!!)

[starspanner]

Waiting to hear if Japan's SLIM (Smart Lander for Investigating Moon) actually landed. It reached 0 altitude and they sat waiting for a signal for a while, but now the livestream is literally a "Please Stand By" screen with tinkly music. All they need is a little cartoon of the lander with a bandage and little swirlies around its head.

[leclerc-hs]

a lifetime of summers - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history. warnings: angst, language, childhood friends with complicated history, smut, angst, yearning, etc... idk what I'm missing, NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos or things that might not make sense), lots of back and forth, messy messy messy, also cute, jealousy jealousy, seriously lots of YEARNING, them being stupid also word count: ~8k author's note: this idea came to me a few days ago and i've spent as much time as possible working on it since (in between carlos version). y'know when the creativity just hits right and the words pour out of you?? that was me with this. i hope you guys like it!!!! xoxo ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Age 7.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

The villa smells of sun lotion and salty air.

Your dad’s playing music through some tiny old speaker he brought. And the adults are laughing too loud over their drinks.

The sun is beginning to sink, but it’s still hot. 

You’re sticky with juice, hair tangled, and bathing suit clinging awkwardly.

Charles is chasing you. A water balloon in his hands.

You shriek, running against the hot stones. Smiling so hard that it hurts.

“Y’already got me twice!” You shout in between giggles. “S’not fair!”

Charles appears closer. Face sunburnt. A smile tugged on his lips. “You cheated at Candy Land!”

“You cheated first!” 

“Because you always win!”

And he raises the balloon over his head.

“If you throw that, I’m telling maman you said a bad word the other day.”

His smile drops. “I did not!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Uh huh…you said ‘shit’ when you hit your funny bone.”

“It hurt!” He argues.

You stick your tongue out. 

And then he hesitates. Looking at the balloon. Then at you.

Throws the balloon anyway.

It explodes against your stomach. Cold water soaking you.

And you gasp. 

Then lunge for him. Chase him all the way into the back yard, shrieking. Laughing so hard that you both struggle to breathe properly. 

And eventually you both collapse into the grass. Side by side. Near the lemon tree. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Both of you panting from trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because you’re funny. And you like ice pops. And you beat me at Mario Kart once.”

You look at him. And he’s staring at the leaves above your heads. Arms touching.

“I don’t think that’s how marriage works,” your voice soft.

“Don’t care.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. But I don’t want to wear a dress.”

“Fine. But you have to split the cake with me.”

“Only if it’s chocolate.”

“Well duh.”

And you both fall asleep like that. In the grass. Smelling like chlorine. Sticky with sugar.

-

Age 12

“Why are you being weird?”

The summer heat is burning.

Heat clings to you like a second skin. And you’re still dripping from the pool. The stone tiles are too hot to stand on for too long, so everyone moves around them quickly. Your hair is wet. Trying to read a book, but can’t focus.

Because Charles won’t stop staring at you.

Well, he’s technically not staring. But he’s in the pool in your direct eyesight. Hands behind his head as he sits on a float. Sunglasses almost too big for his face. Smirking.

And every so often, he splashes water your way.

“Would you stop?” You snap. Wiping the water off your ankles.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Blinking. Innocent.

You groan, falling back on the lounger. Trying to ignore him.

He floats closer. “You haven’t turned the page in almost twenty minutes.”

“That’s because you’re distracting me.”

And he grins. A full sheepish grin. “You think I’m cute.”

You don’t answer. Keep your eyes on your book.

“Y’gonna tell your friends I have a six pack now?” He calls out.

You raise your eyebrows, “Six pack of what?”

“Muscles.” He says. Dead serious.

And your mouth twitches. “Your voice still cracks.”

Charles slips off the floatie. Swims to the edge and rests his arms on the ledge. Chin on his forearm as he looks at you.

“Yeah? And what does it do to you when I say your name?”

Your breath hitches.

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s the sun.”

He laughs. And you throw your book at him. 

He ducks under the water. And when he resurfaces, grinning…you’re trying so hard to not smile. And he knows it.

“Why are you being so weird?” you ask.

He shrugs. 

“You’re just starting to notice me now.”

And you don’t answer.

And later that night, when you’re brushing your teeth. Still burnt from the sun. You wonder what he meant.

You don’t ask.

But you do start to.

-

Age 15

“That didn’t count.”

“So kiss me again.”

The villa is quiet. 

Your parents and his mom stay up talking. Your siblings long asleep. Arthur passed out on the couch. 

A few candles flicker near the steps, but most of the light is coming from the moonlight.

You’re barefoot. The grass cool and soft beneath your toes as you walk to the lemon tree. The one where you and Charles always meet when its too late and you’re supposed to be asleep.

He’s already there. Leaning against it. 

He looks different this year. Taller. A little bit sharper. More grown into his body.

He glances at you. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to sneak past my sister.”

He grins, holding up a bag of chips. 

And you sit beside him. Your shoulder brushing his. 

Talking about nothing for a while. Catching up on the weeks you aren’t together. How he kissed a girl in Monaco and it was fine but also kind of awkward. And you pretend you don’t hate hearing it.

You tell him about the boy from school who tried to hold your hand during a movie when you went with your group of friends.

Charles almost immediately demands his full name. And address.

And you laugh.

He tosses a lemon up and catches it. Again and again.

“I heard you tell Joris that I was in love with you.” You say.

And he glances at you. “I did not.”

You narrow your eyes. A smile on your lips.

And he shrugs. “I said you were obsessed with me. S’not the same.”

And you laugh. Then scoff. “You wish.”

You shove his arm. And he grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. Fingers wrapping around you. Warm. Familiar. But somehow different.

Neither of you speak for a few moments. Just take in the sound of the cicadas, the faint chatter of the adults on the terrace.

“Y’ever kissed anyone?”

And your stomach twists. Look away. “No.”

He nods. “Me either…at least, not really.”

Silence.

And then he says, “Wanna try?”

You look at him. But he’s already looking at you. And he looks nervous. Hopeful. Like he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Nothing like the boy who used to throw water balloons and stick paint in your hair.

You nod.

And it’s awkward. Your noses bump. One of you breathes too loudly. His hands tremble at your cheek. 

But it’s sweet. Slow.

And his lips are soft.

And when you pull apart, you both stare at each other. Lips a little rosier than before.

“That didn’t count.” You whisper.

And he blinks. “Why not?”

“There was no tongue.”

And he grins. Slowly.

And then pulls you back into him.

And this time….it’s real.

-

Age 17

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

The villa’s light glow behind you. Laughter echoing from the kitchen where your parents and his maman are finishing a bottle of wine.

You and Charles are on the terrace. Barefoot. A shared bottle of win between you. Practically empty. And his leg brushes against yours every time he fidgets.

It’s the first summer where you’ve both been allowed to really drink. Not just a stolen sip of a half-empty bottle found on the kitchen counter. Or a watered down spritz. Real drinks. Poured and given to you like adults.

And you’re a little tipsy. Cheeks warm and rosy. Limbs loose. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you glance at him.

He nods. “Jus’ thinking.”

“You do that?”

And he laughs. “Shut up.”

You smile. Taking a small sip straight from the bottle before placing it back down. “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitates for a little. “Uh…that night last year.”

You don’t have to ask which night. You already know.

The night behind the lemon tree. His mouth on yours. And you think about it often.

“Me too,” You admit. Soft.

And he looks at you. Watch as his gaze dips to your mouth.

And then he’s leaning in.

The kiss is soft. Deeper. Not rushed. And his lips are warm. Tastes of wine and something sweet. Like the fruit you guys were picking at earlier.

When he pulls back, his voice cracks a little bit. “I want you.”

You don’t answer. Just smile soft. Pulling his hand into yours as you drag him into the villa. Into the bedroom. 

Your clothes peel off slowly. Clumsy. And he’s careful. Like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, it’ll ruin the moment. 

“Y’sure about this?” He whispers.

You nod. “Yeah…want it to be you.”

And he closes his eyes for a second. Like his heart is in his throat.

And then it happens.

It’s slow. Messy. You both laugh when your arms bump. And he curses softly when he cant get the condom wrapper open. But then he’s inside you, and your laughter becomes hushed gasps. Fingers digging into each other.

“Y’okay?” He mutters. His forehead pressed to yours.

And your nails dig into his back. “Yeah.”

And then he kisses you again. Harder. Holds you closer.

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in the dark…you feel his fingers tracing your skin. Both of you enjoying the silence.

Then a good few moments later.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

You swallow hard.

“Yeah.”

-

Age 19

“Y’gonna dance with him again?”

“He asked.”

“You let him kiss your cheek.”

“You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night.”

“That’s different.”

You’re barefoot in the sand. Music loud. And Luca…or maybe it was Leo? You weren’t sure. Had his hands lightly on your hips. Flirty.

You’re laughing at something dumb he said into your ear. And then you feel it.

The heat. The stare.

Glance over your shoulder and…

Charles. Leaning against the beach bar. Beer in hand.

Eyes on you with a glint in his eye like you’ve offended him.

You try not to react. But the next time Luca spins you, you pull away with a smile and a I’ll be right back.

You only make it a few steps before Charles intercepts your path.

“Having fun?” He says. Trying to be casual. But his voice is too tight. Too bitter.

“Yes.” You brush past him. And he falls right into step with you.

“You’ve got weird taste in music.”

“That’s not my music taste. It’s called dancing.”

And he scoffs.

You walk to the side of the bar. To a more private area. Grabbing his shoulder to face you.

“Are you okay?” Voice sweet. Gentle. Caring.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re glaring too much.”

And looks at you. “I just think it’s funny.”

“Oh, here we go.”

“I mean, you don’t even like that song.”

You cross your arms against your chest. And he steps closer.

“You let him put his hands on you.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“So…you let him touch you. Kiss your cheek”

And you laugh. Soft. “You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night, Charles.”

His jaw clenches. Hands twitch. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

You take a step closer. Testing him, And he doesn’t budge.

“It’s not the same.”

You stare at him. His cheeks are sunburned. And his eyes are so green it makes your heart rate spike. So handsome.

“So I’m not allowed to dance with a guy I’ll never see again?”

He runs a hand over his face. Grazing the slight stubble on his jaw. “You’re not just dancing.”

“No,” You admit. “But you’re not just fucking me either.”

His eyes widen. Slightly stunned.

And you don’t back down. Step even closer until your chests are touching.. “You don’t wanna talk about what this is? That’s fine. But you don’t get to act jealous then.”

“I’m not jealous.”

And you grin. Snort. Just a tiny bit.

“Okay,” he says. Throwing his hands up. “Maybe I am.”

Your stomach twists.

“I just…I don’t like seeing you with other guys.” His voice is low. 

“Well…it’s not like you don’t talk to other girls, Charles.”

And then you leave him standing there. Alone.

-

“Wanna go out for a bit?” He asks. “Just us?”

And you say yes without even thinking.

You’re on a light blue towel, sunglasses over your face, pretending to read a book. Charles is stretched out next to you. An arm tucked under his head. Throwing grapes in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.

You glance over just as a grape hits his forehead and falls into the sand.

“Impressive.”

He laughs. “The wind interfered!”

He tosses another grape. Misses again. 

And you burst into laughter.

“I’m warming up.”

He laughs with you. Giving up and rolling onto his side to face you.

He squints his eyes at you. “Do you have sunscreen on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you positive?”

Your brows furrow. “Why?”

“I think that….” His hand reaches for the bottle of sun lotion, flicking it open. “That you missed a spot.”

He squirts some into his hand, a smirk on his lips.

“Back off.”

And he reaches for you, smearing it all over your chest. You shriek, tossing your book into the sand beside you.

And somewhere between this sun lotion assault, you’re both breathless and laughing so hard.

He pins you down, dropping heaps of sun lotion onto your skin.

“Truce,” You laugh. Stomach burning from laughter. 

He nods. Smiling. Rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.

“Don’t want you to burn.”

You throw a pile of sand at him. And he doesn’t even flinch.

-

His cock is already buried inside you. Deep. Thick. Fucking aching.

“God, you’re fuckin soaked.” He groans into your neck. Hand pressed into your stomach. 

You claw at his back. Back arched. Legs spread. Shaking every time he hits that spot in your tummy just right.

He looks down at you like he’s overwhelmed. Like he doesn’t understand how you can feel this fucking good.

“Swear to God,” He grunts. Pulling back slow, then snapping his hips forward. “S’like your pussy jus gets tighter every time.”

Your mouth falls open. Gasping.

His hands slip under your thigh, pushing your knee into your chest. Fucking you deeper.

And then he moans.

“Jesus….fuck.” He chokes out. “Y’feel that?”

You sob out. 

“I’ve been inside you like a hundred times this summer and it still feels like fuckin heaven.”

His forehead drops and presses into yours. Voice rough. 

“M’not gonna last.” He huffs. “You’re too wet. Too fuckin tight.”

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Don’t stop…”

“You’re fuckin milking me.” He cuts you off. “Y’gonna come? Please come on me. C’mon baby…please, yeah? Please let me have it.”

And you fall apart. Gasping. Shaking. Coming so hard around his cock it makes his head fall back.

And he swears. Filthily. French tumbling out go his mouth.

And then he’s spilling inside of you. Chest pressed to yours. Hips jerking.

He buries his face in your beck. Collapsing on you. 

And neither of you speak for a bit.

Just catch your breath. Comfortable silence. Holding each other.

Eventually, he reaches up. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

Then whispers into the dark.

“I like it here.”

And he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t ask him to.

-

Age 21

“He seems tense.”

“He’s fine.”

“He didn’t even blink when I mentioned that guy from Madrid.”

“I told you not to bring it up.”

Your best friend’s been here for five days and already the villa feels different.

She means well. But she talks fast, drinks fast, and has no filter. 

She also loves to talk about your love life.

The one that you’re apparently “thriving in”.

“So wait,” she says over breakfast, digging her fork into her food. “You never texted that guy from Madrid back? Y’know the one with the sexy voice?”

Across the table, Charles is picking at his plate. Fork pausing. Just for a little bit. Enough for you to notice.

You look at her, “No.”

“Why not? He was so hot.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“But he was so into you…” She takes a sip of her drink. “What about the Italian one? The one you really liked.”

Charles cuts into his eggs. A little bit harder. Knife scraping the plate.

“He ghosted.”

“Ugh, yeah total loser.” She laughs. “Oh my god, remember…what was his name? From the bar crawl.”

“Liam.” You choke out.

“Yes! Liam!” She snaps her fingers. “Didn’t he pick you up at the bar? Like just threw you over his shoulder?”

You laugh, slightly embarrassed. Nodding.

Charles sets his mug down a little too hard.

And then he stands. Takes his plate to the sink. 

And walks out.

“Was it something I said?” Your best friend asks.

-

You find him in the kitchen later. Your best friend is lounging out by the pool and you slipped inside to grab a water.

He’s rinsing the plates. Back to you. But his jaw is clenched tight.

You lean against the counter by him. “Hey.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps scrubbing the dishes. A little harder than before.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” He says. “Just didn’t realize breakfast started with a running list of every guy you’ve fucked.”

You wince.

And he breathes deeply. Dropping the dish in the sink. “Sorry…that was, uh harsh.”

You give a tiny nod.

“I just…” He turns off the water. Looks at you. “Didn’t know it was like that?”

“Like what?”

He shrugs. 

“Is it a problem?”

He stares at you. Sucks his bottom lip in for a moment. Like he’s deep in thought. Before finally saying…

“No. It’s not my place.”

And there it is. 

You step back. “Right.”

And then you’re turning around, reaching in the cabinet for a glass. “Still going to the bonfire later?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, if you still want to.”

“Cool,” Your voice is light. 

-

Age 22

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m just tired.”

The long table on the terrace is full.

Extra chairs from inside scattered around it, one of your younger cousins crawling underneath it.

Your dad is asking your mom if there’s more grilled vegetables. Meanwhile your sister insists on telling the story about the jellyfish sting again.

“And she was crying so hard, she had actual snot bubbles on her face,” She says. Laughing.

You lift your hand, “I was six!”

Charles laughs. “You thought you were dying.”

“I thought it was venom!” You laugh. “And no one even helped me.”

“We were too busy laughing at the snot,” He says. Looking at you. That familiar grin pulled on his face, eyes crinkled. Like it was just you two.

And then Alex leans into him. Whispers into his ear. And whatever she says makes him smile wider. Makes him shift toward her without even thinking.

You chug your wine.

“I love that photo,” Alex says softly. And you glance at her to find her already looking at you. “The one of you and everyone in the inflatable pool. You’re the only one not smiling.”

You curl your lips. “We were sinking.”

“It’s so funny though,” She says. “You look so unimpressed by them.”

“She always looks like that,” Charles chimes in. “Probably came out of the womb judging people.”

You narrow your eyes, but the smile pulling on your lips gives you away.

Alex laughs. And your mom’s already popping open the next bottle of wine. 

And it would be perfect.

If it weren’t for Charles sitting across from you, arms wrapped around another person. Like he’s not yours anymore. 

You ask Alex about her job, and you mean it. She answers so soft and kind that it almost makes you hate her. Almost.

But you can’t. Because she’s nice.

“She’s good for him,” Your sister whispers under her breath, leaning toward you. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You nod. “I’m just tired.”

Eventually, dinner ends. Alex excuses herself to help your mom bring out dessert. And Charles follows.

And when they come back, head thrown back laughing. 

He sets a slice of cake in front of you without a word.

And you thank him like its normal.

-

Someone suggest drinks at the beach bar. Something to do. The one with the bulbs on string down the street. 

You come barefoot, some sweet drink already in hand. Alex walks beside you, her wedges hooked in her fingers, hem of her dress brushing her knees.

She’s pretty in a way that doesn’t feel threatening. Not showy. Just perfect.

Inside the bar, you spot Charles leaned against the bar with a beer, grinning at something Arthur’s saying. And he’s wearing that linen button up that you used to tell him he looks like a recently divorced rich guy in. 

You find yourself smiling.

Alex touches your arm. “Hey…you want a new drink?”

You shake your head. “I’m good for now.”

She nods. A small smile on her lips.

“I was really nervous to meet you.”

You blink. Eyes slightly wider. “Me?”

She nods. “Charles talks about you all the time.”

You freeze for a moment.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Not like in a weird way. Just like you’re part of the picture. In his life. Almost every story he tells involves you.”

You don’t know how to respond.

“I’m just glad you’re not..uh, like intimidating.” She laughs.

And you laugh back. “I save the intimidation after a few weeks.”

She smiles. “So I’ve still got time?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

And for this moment, you like her. Even if it hurts.

Because she’s kind.

Because she doesn’t know that you and Charles shared a bed when thunderstorms were scary.

Because she wasn’t there the summer he kissed you against the sand and told you he’d never want anyone else.

You chug your drink.

Later, you’re all gathered near the back of the deck, huddled around a wooden table and wobbly stools. Someone ordered a side of fries. Someone else ordered a round of shots no one really wanted but drank anyways.

You’re pressed between Charles and your sister. You’re laughing. Tipsy. Warm.

Charles is teasing your sister about something but you’re not really listening. 

And that’s when another guy slides in.

Not dramatically. Just casual. Confident.

He’s tall. Tanned. Cute. 

He talks to the guy beside him, someone you’ve definitely seen before, and then turns to you. 

“Did I hear something about you getting stung by a jellyfish?”

You smile. “Unfortunately.”

He nods. A grin. “Survival stories always get me.”

“Tragic,” you say.

He laughs. “I’m Nick.”

You take a sip of your drink, tilting your head. “Do you open with tragedy stories for flirting a lot? Or is it just me?”

“Only for girls who look like they bite back.”

You grin. Slow. “You say that like its a challenge.”

“Depends,” He shrugs, gaze dropping to your bare legs, then back to your face.

“On?”

“Depends how hard you bite.”

And you laugh. Like really laugh. Hard. Head falling back. And then you feel it. The way Charles stills beside you. The way his fingers grip his cup just a little bit tighter.

And Nick leans in closer. More private. “So…what other tragedies should I know about you?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you want facts or warnings.”

He raises a brow. “Any preference?”

You place your cup down on the table. “I like a little risk.”

And Charles says something to your sister now. A little louder. Like he’s trying to distract you.

You don’t bother to look at him.

Nick grins. “And just how dangerous are you exactly?”

You grin back. “Pretty dangerous.”

He laughs. “Good.”

You both just stare at each other for a little. Grinning.

“You dancing?” He asks, nodding his head in direction of the dance floor.

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I’m hoping.”

You slide off the stool.

“Let’s go tragedy boy.”

And as he takes your hand. Leads you into the crowd. You catch Charles’s eyes.

Watching.

Burning.

-

The music’s slowed a little. Just swaying to the music, instead of the rapid jumping you were doing earlier. 

Nick’s hand rests at your hip. His other is holding your drink while you talk with your hands.

“You can’t seriously think pineapple belongs on pizza,” You yell over the music.

Nick grins. “It’s good.”

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

And you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. He leans in, speaking into your ear.

“You know your friend’s been staring at us for like ten minutes, right?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He tips his head. Over your shoulder. And you turn just a little bit. Just enough to see Charles still sitting at the table.

Drink in hand. Not talking. Not even blinking. Just looking.

You breathe out, turning back. “That Charles.”

Nick raises a brow, nodding. “Ahh.”

“Don’t read into it.”

He watches you.

“He has a girlfriend.”

Nick hums, a teasing grin. “He doesn’t look like he remembers that right now.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Cool.”

You shrug. “You don’t believe me?”

He smiles. “Doesn’t matter what I believe. Just means if I kiss you, he might kill me.”

You laugh. “You’re awful.”

“You’re still here.”

And you look at each other. Smiling.

You kiss him. Not because you’re falling for him. But because you’re single. Because Charles brought someone else. Because he gets to have her. Because you’re tired of thinking about him.

So you kiss him to feel good. To forget. To remind yourself that you’re free.

Hands in his shirt. Hands on your waist.

And you let yourself lean into it.

Enjoy the uncomplicated.

And for a few moments…it almost works.

-

Age 23

“You brought him here.”

“Yeah. Remember you said he wouldn’t last.”

You’re late this year.

Flight was delayed. Rental car place was too busy. And by the time your feet hit the familiar stone of the villa’s terrace, the sun is already low in the sky.

Theo’s beside you. Rolling your suitcase like a pure gentleman. He’s good. Kind. Gets along with your parents. Laughs at your sister’s jokes. 

And still, your heart flutters when you hear his voice.

Charles.

Laughing louder than necessary. As if he wants you to hear it.

You follow the sound. Trying not to think about the last time you saw him. A few months ago in Monaco. A hotel room you both swore you wouldn’t end up in. Both seeing other people. Both pretending it didn’t count.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

Since last summer, it’s happened a few times too many. Whenever him and Alex called it off. On and off. On and off. You slipped between the cracks. A quiet fuck in your apartment. A drunken make out at a birthday party. You pressed against the shower tiles. Bent over his kitchen counter.

Always followed by soft smiles and easy goodbyes. A promise to act normal. 

Best friends first.

And the moment you step further into the terrace, you see him.

Charles standing against the bar, shirt unbuttoned. Tanned. Holding a drink with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how hot he looks.

And worse…Alex is next to him.

Beautiful of course. Sundress swaying. Hand on his chest like it belongs there.

He notices you before you can even speak. Smile faltering for a fraction of a second. Just enough for you to really feel it. And then it’s back.

And he lifts his glass in a salute. “You’re late.”

Alex smiles. “We thought you weren’t coming til’ tomorrow!”

You smile back. She was always so nice. “Surprise!”

Theo steps forward. Hand extended with that charm that always made it hard to hate him. “Hey…Charles, right?”

And Charles doesn’t hesitate. Shakes his hand. But its the same one he uses with driver’s he never liked. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

And it hits you like a knife to the ribs.

You remember that night clear as day. Theo was still new. Only a few dates in. And you invited him to a party. 

Charles showed up late. And barely looked at Theo. Offered him a lazy smile before finding you later into the night. Pulling you into his car thirty minutes later and fucking you in the back seat.

And Theo’s smiling. “Nice to see you again.”

Charles smiles. But his eyes stay on you. Never leave your face.

Alex swings her arm into his. “So glad you made it. Saved you the good room too.”

You smile at her. “That’s sweet of you.”

Charles lifts a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a good room to enjoy yourself here.”

And you hum. “Guess I’ve gotten a little pickier.”

He takes a sip of his drink. “Since when?”

And you shrug your shoulders. “Since I started dating someone who doesn’t forget my birthday.”

And it hits him like a bullet. You see the way his jaw shifts. Swallow.

Theo’s hand slips onto your lower back. Whispering softly into your ear. Nothing specific. Just something that makes you smile.

And Charles swear’s he might just vomit.

-

The ocean is calm. Waves hitting the rocks. A few birds chirping. Air cool before the sun is fully up.

You slip out of bed, letting Theo sleep. Making your way down the stony path that you walked hundreds of times. Towel slung over your shoulder. Hair twisted up in a clip.

And you’re halfway across the sand when you see him.

Already waist deep in the water. Back facing you. 

You freeze. Debating if you should turn around. 

But it’s too late. He see’s you. And his face shifts into something. Longing? Guilt? You’re not sure.

“You’re always here early,” He calls out.

You drop your towel, walking into the water without glancing at him.  “Not always.”

He watches you. You can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. “You do when you’re avoiding me.”

You glance up. The water cool against your skin. “Who said I’m avoiding you?”

He shrugs. “History.”

You reach him in the water. You both stand there, not touching. Not moving.

Eventually…he speaks.

“He’s staying the entire time?”

You raise a brow. “Are you asking as my best friend or something else?”

He doesn’t answer. 

You move a little closer. “You said he wouldn’t last.”

“I was wrong.” His voice is low. “Clearly.”

He swallows. Looks away from you. “Does he know?”

And your stomach twists. “Know what?”

He doesn’t say anything. Lets the silence tell you.

You feel your throat tightening. “He know’s we’re close.”

“Close.” He repeats. Half snort, half laugh.

“Best friends.”

He turns to fully face you now. Jaw clenched. 

“Right. Just best friends.”

You don’t respond. Because what else are you supposed to say? That you still feel his fingers dig into your skin. That no matter how many nights pass, you still wonder what this could’ve been if you both spoke up all those years ago.

He steps closer. Too close now.

“Y’still taste like that shitty rosé we used to drink.”

And you blink. Trying not to smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

His fingers brush against your shoulder. 

“You have a girlfriend.”

And his eyes look sad. He breathes loudly. “And you have him.”

-

The villa is loud tonight. Music is blasting. Too many drinks are being poured. Bowls of snacks turning stale.

All of you are packed into the living room. Sunburn. Sprawled into chairs or the floor. Hoodies thrown on. 

Your families are here. Everyone laughing and shouting. Bickering. Like its still 15 years ago.

Theo sits behind you on the rug, legs wrapped around you. Hand resting on your hip. And he’s been sweet all evening. He fits.

Yet every time you crack a joke. Or win a game. It’s Charles who looks at you first. Like he’s your person.

His leg bounces restlessly. 

“Alright,” Arthur announces. “We’re playing that game again. The one with the acting.” He holds up a deck of cards.

“Y’mean charades?” Alex asks. Soft.

“No.” Charles says. “The one I always win.”

And it’s you rolling your eyes now. “Y’mean the one you always cheat during?”

He leans forward. “I win.”

Theo laughs behind you.

Your sister tries to act out like Snow White. Falling over and laughing when Arthur misreads a motion. Theo keeps guessing too many times. And Alex’s impressions are almost too good.

And later…when the game’s over. You find yourself in the kitchen, stacking freshly cleaned glass and bowls onto the drying towel.

Humming to yourself.

And Charles leans against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you with a lazy grin. 

“You two are cute,” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be weird.”

“M’not.” He shrugs. Pushing off the archway and stepping closer. “It’s just…uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You let him touch you a lot.”

You pause with a glass in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he smiles. Tight. Not genuine. “Nothing.”

“You’re being weird.”

He raises his hands. Says something mocking of Theo.

And it has you gasp lightly. “You’re such an asshole.” You try not to smile.

He steps even closer.

“Yeah.” He whispers. “But I’m still your favorite.”

And then he’s stepping beside you, taking the glass from your hand and dries it.

Finishes washing the dishes with you in silence.

-

“You’re staring again.”

“Yeah. Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Jealous?”

“Of him? Never.”

Silence.

“But of you? Maybe.”

The bar is tucked into the cliffs. A grand view of the sea. Well lit by bulbs on strings.

Everyone’s dressed for the night. Sun-kissed. Hair soft and flows. Laughter echoing. 

You’re on your second drink. Lightly buzzed. Your dress clinging to you just right. And you feel good. Happy.

Theo’s spinning you around. His hands warm on your waist as you move slowly in the corner of the makeshift dance floor. He’s not much of a dancer. But he’s trying. And in the end…that’s all that really matters.

He leans in close. “Y’look so beautiful.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“I mean…y’always do.” He grins. “But-“

You don’t let him finish. Kiss him. Easy. Soft.

And when you pull back, you catch him in the corner of your eye.

Charles. At the bar.

Sitting with Arthur and Alex. Drink in front of him. Head tilted.

And he’s watching you. Not listening to either of them.

And when you’re eyes meet, he lifts his drink.

A challenge.

And later when you slip away from the loud music. He’s there. Leaning casually against the table. Shirt undone just enough to make your throat dry. 

“You’re having fun.” He says. A statement. Not a question.

“Isn’t that the point?”

He nods. “Theo’s a big fan of spinning you around like you’re some prize.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called dancing.”

“More like claiming.” He huffs under his breath.

And you look at him.

Hard. 

Trying to read him. 

“What’s your problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Eyes dropping to the floor. Then to his half empty drink. 

“You kissed him.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You squint your eyes a little. “Yeah. I did.”

He swallows. Harsh. “Cool.”

You laugh. Dry. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m the ridiculous one?” He finally looks at you. “You’re out here making heart eyes at a guy you know won’t last more than another year.”

Your mouth falls open. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him. I know you.”

And he steps forward. Voice dropping.

“And I know that’s the same dress you wore the night I…”

“Charles.”

You both go quiet. 

Alex’s frame flickers by. Laughter erupts. People keep dancing.

“Whatever. You’re right. Have fun with your fling.”

You narrow your eyes. “Jealous?”

He smiles. Sad. “Of him? Never.”

A moment of silence. And his gaze drops to your mouth. Stays there.

“But you? Maybe.”

-

The trip is winding down. Bags are beginning to be packed. Towels still damp. Nights slower. Everyone pretending that they’re not ready to be home.

The sky’s dark. Everyone’s inside finishing up packing. Winding down.

You slipped out.

Without thinking, ended up here. The lemon tree.

The same as always. 

You hear footsteps. Uneven. Dragging.

And you turn. Charles.

He’s drunk. Swearing under his breath as he loses his footing. A bottle dangling from his hand. Shirtless. Barefoot.

His eyes meet yours and there’s something bitter in them. “Of course you’re here.”

You breathe. “You’re drunk.”

“A lil’ bit,” His words slur. “Celebrating your last night as someone else’s girl.”

You cross your arms. “We’re not doing this.”

But he’s already walking closer. 

“Y’know….s’kinda funny.”

You don’t speak.

“How he holds your hand like its somethin’ delicate. Like you’re some untouchable thing.” He takes another step closer. Voice shaking.

“I’ve had you on your knees on the kitchen floor.” He says, bitter.

Your heart pounds. “Stop.”

“In the pool too,” He slurs. “Begged me to not pull out. Said you wanted to feel it. Feel me.”

He doesn’t even let you speak. Just rambles on. Slurring. Drunk. Angry.

“Had you in every room in that house,” He grunts. “Fingers shoved in you while our parents set the dinner table. Bent you over the bathroom sink. Panties still halfway up your thighs because you were too desperate to wait.”

“Charles…”

“The pantry…remember that one?” His voice drops lower. “You were so wet it dripped onto the floor. Had to stuff my fingers in your mouth so no one would hear you cryin while you came.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I fucking have to.” He snaps. “Because I can’t fucking sleep this entire trip knowing he gets to touch you.”

You swallow. “I’m not some prize.”

“No. You’re worse.” He spits. Stepping close enough that his chest is close enough and you have to crane your neck to look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and you handed it to someone else like I never fucking existed.”

“Stop it.”

“He doesn’t know what its like to hear you lose control. How you cry when you come. Shaking and begging.”

And your breathing hard now.

He leans in. Bending down to be eye to eye.

“He gets to hold you in public.” His eyes are glaring. “And I got your thighs shaking around my face while you said my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”

You don’t speak. Can’t.

Silence for a few moments.

And then…

“Tell me.” He slurs, small grin tugged on the corner of his lips. “Tell me which of us you think about when you touch yourself.”

You slap him.

Hard.

And his face whips to the side. He breathes heavily. Like he’s trying not to cry. Or scream. Or grab your face and kiss you.

He swallows.

“He gets you in the daylight.”

You don’t speak.

“He gets the sunlight.” 

And you whisper back. Soft. Heart breaking. “You only met me in the dark.”

You walk away barefoot. Tears forming in your eyes.

And Charles?

He stays at the lemon tree until sunrise. Alone.

-

You don’t talk for three months.

Which is considered a lifetime for you and Charles.

And then on a random weekday at nearly three in the morning, he sends a photo of the lemon tree in the winter.

No message beneath it.

You don’t answer.

Not for a day. Not even for three.

But then, on a random day the following week, you send a photo back.

A shot of your bedroom wall. A blurry photo of your hand holding a book in the corner.

Can’t sleep.

And the three dots appear before you can overthink it.

Me either.

And that’s how it begins.

You don’t FaceTime each other. At least, not at first. 

You fall back into a rhythm neither of you thought would come back. Almost normal. The funny kind of banter you guys always had.

Charles broke up with Alex. You broke it off with Theo.

Neither of you really said why.

-

Age 25

“Don’t sit in my chair.”

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

“You haven’t changed.”

“You haven’t either.”

The sun is long gone. You’re curled up in one of the cushioned chairs on the front patio. A half finished glass of wine on the stone table beside you.

The front door swings open.

“Don’t sit in my chair”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Charles drops into the cushion next to you. Barefoot. Hoodie swallowing him.

“This isn’t your chair?”

“I licked it.”

He makes a funny face. “You haven’t changed.”

And you smile. “You haven’t either.”

And its easy. The way he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. Like nothing ever happened. 

You sip your wine.

His knee bumps into yours. Gaze on you.

“Thought it’d feel weird.”

“It did…for like,” You pause. Whisper. “For like a day.”

He holds your gaze. Doesnt look away. Smiles.

You break the tension first. “Maman said you still haven’t unpacked.”

He shrugs. “I’ll get there.”

“It’s been almost a whole week. That’s psychotic.”

“You’re just mad I haven’t asked to borrow your good smelling shampoo yet.”

“You are so not borrowing that.”

“I already did.”

You elbow him in the side. Laughing. Body shaking. He laughs with you. Head falling back.

He clears his throat. “I missed this.”

And you bump your knee back into his. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“Candy Land?”

“Don’t cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

You narrow your eyes, smiling so hard. “You’re the worst.”

-

Monaco, Age 26

Your back hits the wall of his apartment. 

Urgent. Focused. 

Like he’s waited for forever to get you alone again. And doesn’t want to waste a single second of it.

His mouth is hot on yours. Hands at your hips. Your thighs. Slipped under your dress. And you’re clinging onto him like he’s a lifeline.

You can still taste the champagne on his skin. Skin warm from the race. But his mouth is desperate against you. 

He groans against your lips. “Thought about this almost every night.”

You gasp when his fingers curl around your thigh. “Stop thinking.”

And he’s about to take you right there. Dress bunched at your waist. Pants halfway down. But then you press your hand to his chest.

He stills. Panting. Flushed.

“I need to say something first,” You breathe.

He waits. Hands still gripping you.

And you look up at him. The man who just won Monaco. The boy you’ve known who’s been chasing that dream since you can remember. The one you loved. Hated. Missed.

“Your dad would be so proud of you.” You whisper.

And you feel his chest rise. Jaw clench. Fingers curl harder into your skin.

“I’m serious.” Your voice is soft. “Not just because you won. But because of how you’ve carried him with you.”

And his eyes are glassy.

He swallows hard. “I heard him.” His voice soft. “Right after I saw that checkered flag.”

You bring your hand to his check, pressing your palm. And he leans into you.

And then he’s kissing you again. But its different.

Still hungry. But more grateful. More claiming.

He whispers I love you into your mouth. Again and again. 

He whispers it when you tug his shirt over his head. When you lift your hips to pull your panties off.

Whispers it into your skin when he touches your bare skin. Like he’s seeing it all for the first time again.

And when he sinks in, he groans. Leaning over you, gripping you like you might just slip through his fingers.

“Y’feel like fuckin heaven.” He mutters against your lips. “You are heaven.”

And then he starts moving. Not fast.

Slow. Deep.

“Squeezing me like you missed it,” He huffs. “Did you, hm? Did you miss me?”

“Yes…” You pant. “Fuck…yes.”

He kisses your throat. Hot open mouthed kisses at the corner of your jaw. Hips rolling into you. Each thrust making you cry out.

“I love you.” 

He thrusts.

“I love you.”

Another.

“Not just tonight. Not just now. Always.” He cries out.

And you clench around him. Yelling out as your orgasm builds too fast.

“C’mon that’s it..” He breathes. “Come for me. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me have it…please baby.”

“I love you,” You gasp. “I love you…I love you..”

And then you’re coming. Body shaking, mouth falling slack as he fucks you through it.

Following seconds later, spilling into you.

He collapses over you. “Fuck. You’re it for me.”

You hold him close.

-

“You still take it with milk?” He asks, voice soft. 

You nod.

He hands you a mug. His fingers brushing against yours.

You sit on the couch together. Close.

“I keep thinking about the lemon tree,” You say. Cradling the mug in your hands.

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

You nod. “How many summers we sat there pretending everything was normal.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “We were idiots.”

You smile. “Still are.”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.” He says quietly. “Since you made me sleep outside by the lemon tree because you said it wasn’t fair that only the birds got to live outside.”

You laugh, heart clenching.

“I’ve loved every version of you.” He continues. “The snot version. The barefoot version. The one who laughs too loud after a few drinks. The one who tried to date other people. The one who…the one who kissed other people in front of me because I waited too fucking long.”

You pause. Placing the mug down on the side table.

“I was scared that loving you would ruin everything.”

He pushes you hair behind your ear. 

“I love you too.” You whisper. “You idiot.”

He laughs.

Leans in.

Kisses you.

-

Age 28

“This is where I almost lost you.”

“And now it’s where you’re asking to keep me?”

“No. Not asking.”

“Oh.”

Its late. 

You’ve changed into one of Charles’s old shirts. Barefoot. As usual. 

He finds you standing at the edge of the yard. 

Where the broken stone path curves. Where the grass bends. Where the lemon tree leans.

You hear him before you see him. His footsteps always so loud.

Neither of you speak. He wraps his arms over your shoulders from behind. Your back to his chest as he nudges his head into the space between your shoulder and neck.

You hold his arms. Swaying to the light breeze. Staring at the lemon tree together.

“This is where I almost lost you.” He says.

And you glance at your side to him. 

“And now it’s where you’re gonna ask to keep me?” You say, laughing. Teasing. Soft.

He smiles. Small. Shaky.

“No.” He says. Unwrapping his arms from you. “Not asking.”

And then you’re turning towards him. 

And he drops to one knee.

Just like that.

Just him in the grass. Kneeling by the lemon tree. Choosing it to be the place where he does the most important thing he’ll ever do.

Your breath catches. And his hands tremble as he pulls a ring from his pocket.

“I wanted to do this right.” He says. “I want to choose you the way I should’ve all those years ago. Not just when it’s easy..or when we’re alone. But in front of every version of us we used to be.”

Your throat burns.

“I want every summer.” He whispers. Eyes glued to you. “Every winter. Every fight. Every make up. I want to kiss you goodnight when we’re tired. Want to raise mini versions of us.”

You laugh. You cry. And you’re nodding before he even finishes.

“I want you forever.”

And then finally, “Will you marry me?”

You fall to your knees right there in the grass. In front of the lemon tree. And kiss him hard enough that you both fall into it. Laughing. Like little kids again.

“Yes.” You whisper against his lips. “Always. In every lifetime…yes.”

taglist: @softtdaisy @zicosbitch @esmeextraa @evie-119 @teamnovalak @leclercmylove @skylyn-vais @tabisswag @annaswrites00 @chaconadine @sassy-persona @im-an-overthinker @ptrickbateman @angelique-rose-valentine @agmoon03 @whistlef0rthechoir @bvbyacid-666 @jenxjar @crazynyctophilia @theoriginalsfan124 xoxo love u all :)

[lightlybloomed]

Notifications and Nervous Glances (L.N)

Lando Norris can't help but smile when fans tease him for continuously checking his phone for a certain someone to message.

The midday sun hung lazily over Monaco, casting golden stripes of light through the open balcony doors of Lando’s apartment. The sea beyond glittered like a jewel, but Lando was inside, hoodie half-zipped, hair fluffed in every direction from running his hands through it too many times. He was mid-Twitch stream, headset on, fingers flying over his controller.

“Alright, alright, I swear this is the last race,” he laughed, eyes flicking toward the live chat as messages scrolled faster than he could read. “If I win this, you all have to stop saying I'm washed, deal?”

“Yeah right, mate!” came Max Fewtrell’s voice through the headset. “If anything, you’re gonna rage quit before we even hit the third lap.”

Lando grinned. “Not this time.”

But just as the race loaded, a soft chime rang out—his phone, buzzing on the desk to his right. His hand twitched toward it instinctively before pulling back.

He kept his eyes on the screen. Focus. Except now he wasn’t focused at all.

The chat noticed.

"👀 not you checking your phone AGAIN" "who you waiting for, loverboy?" "she texted yet???" "just CALL HER YOU COWARD" "lando’s in his 'will she text me' era"

He blinked, trying not to smile. Tried and failed.

“You guys are so annoying,” he muttered, adjusting his mic. “Can’t a guy check the time?”

“Time?” Max said dryly. “Mate, your phone’s been lighting up like a Christmas tree and you haven’t stopped sneaking glances since we started.”

Lando flushed. “It’s not—okay, shut up.”

The chat went wild again.

"GUILTY!" "he's so whipped and it's not even official" "bet it’s that girl from the paddock 👀"

And okay, maybe they weren’t wrong.

You’d met during the chaos of the last race weekend—some mutual friends, a few too many drinks, and the kind of conversation that left him grinning long after it ended. You weren’t a celebrity. Weren’t chasing fame. Just... smart, grounded, and funny in a way that disarmed him.

You’d left the next day for a work trip, but you’d been texting every day since. Nothing flirty, not exactly. But something was there. At least, he hoped so.

The last message had come a few hours ago—“Landing soon. Might be off the grid for a bit, but I’ll message you when I can! :)”—and he’d been low-key checking his phone ever since.

Just in case.

As the race ended (he came second, to Max’s eternal smugness), Lando leaned back in his chair, pretending not to care as he casually picked up his phone.

Nothing.

He dropped it again, face slightly warm.

“You know,” Max said, his tone teasing but not unkind, “you could just text her first. Say hi. Ask if she landed okay. You’re allowed to show interest, mate. It's not a crime.”

“I know,” Lando mumbled.

But still, he didn’t.

The chat rallied again, this time with emojis and messages of encouragement and chaos in equal measure.

"we believe in you 🫶" "text her or we riot" "lando, you’re literally a Formula 1 driver and you're scared to double text???"

“Alright, that’s it,” Lando said, throwing his hands up. “This stream is bullying now.”

He was laughing though, eyes crinkled in that way his fans loved, cheeks dusted pink.

“I’ll text her,” he added under his breath, like it was a secret he couldn’t help but share.

And he did. Right there, in front of thousands of people.

“Hey, just checking in—hope your flight went okay :)”

He hit send, then instantly tossed his phone onto the sofa like it had burned him.

“I’m done for today,” he declared, stretching with a groan. “That’s enough emotional damage.”

“Emotional damage?” Max repeated. “You texted a girl ‘hi.’ Are you twelve?”

“I hate you.”

The stream ended not long after, fans flooding Twitter and Tumblr with screencaps and memes: Lando’s face mid-phone-check, the exact moment he blushed, the chat going absolutely feral.

But Lando barely noticed.

Because twenty minutes later, while he was lazily scrolling through delivery apps and wondering if gelato for dinner was socially acceptable, his phone buzzed again.

“Just saw your message—landed safely :) stuck in traffic now but excited to finally be home. Also, I missed talking to you. ❤️”

Lando stared at the screen, lips parting in a slow, dumb smile.

Then, with a quiet laugh, he typed back:

“Welcome home. Wanna come over later?”

And this time, he didn’t throw the phone away. He held onto it, just in case the reply came quickly.

It did.

[botanicsoul]

Oh jussst thinking of virgin bkg losing it to virgin fem reader when they’re like 19 sighhhh

Learning Curve

(aged up)Virgin!Bakugou Katsuki x (fem)Virgin!Reader

⸻

I had way too much fun writing this—honestly, I feel like Bakugou would kinda be just as awkward (and ofc cocky!) as anyone else during their first time. Alsooooo, not to be dramatic, but your “Sound it Out” fluff fic of Bakugou is easily in my top 10 favorite reads ever on Tumblr. So, consider this a big thank-you and a love letter from one writer to another. Hope you enjoy it, babe!🩷

ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍

The movie had ended who knows how long ago. Neither of you had noticed.

You were straddling him now, perched on his lap with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his hands roaming your waist like he didn’t know where to land—like touching you too fast might break something.

Bakugou’s breath was heavy, controlled, too controlled, as his lips kissed along your jaw, your neck, then lower. His touch was reverent—slow drags of fingers, warm presses of lips. Like he was working through a checklist.

You let him trail down your sternum, his mouth ghosting the edge of your bra, but your hands slid into his hair and pulled him back up.

His eyes widened. “What—did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head, forehead resting against his. “You’re doing everything right.” Your fingers curled in the hem of his shirt, tugging it up his sides and taking it off over his head. “But I don’t want slow right now.”

He blinked at you, throat bobbing. “You sure?”

Bakugou pulled back just a little, panting against your skin, eyes darting between your mouth and your body beneath his. “You don’t want me to… use my fingers? Or—fuck—I could go down on you if you want?.”

“No…I want you, Katsuki, I’m ready” you whispered, pressing your hips down against his, grinding just enough to make him groan. “I need you. Right now.”

A sound ripped from his chest—half growl, half disbelief. “Fuckin… finally.” He surged up to kiss you, all the control he’d been clinging to unraveling in an instant. His hands gripped your thighs, then your ass, dragging you against him like he couldn’t get close enough.

Still, under all that heat, you felt it—the tension in his body, the slight stutter in his movements. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“You haven’t…right?” you asked, voice softer now.

He shook his head once. “No. You?”

You nodded. “No.”

His jaw flexed, chest heaving. “Shit,” he muttered, then looked at you again, voice quieter. “Tch… first time or not, I’m still gonna blow your fuckin’ mind. Bet on it.” You giggled and felt your heart clenched—warmth and want tangled together. You kissed him, fingers sliding under the waistband of his shorts.

He let out a shaky breath. “You think this is funny? Wait ‘til I’ve got you whining under me.” He laughed—breathless, nervous—but his eyes burned with something deeper.

“Tell me what feels good,” you whispered, dragging your nails down his abs, where his shirt had been tossed somewhere behind the couch. “Or I can just… keep going until you explode.”

“I’m already about to fuckin’ explode,” Bakugou growled, voice tight. “Been hard since you sat in my fuckin’ lap like you knew what you were doin’.” You smirked, rubbing your hips just slightly over his, and his entire body jerked.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Okay. Yeah. No more games. Off. Now.”

the moment you get off— he’s gets on. He was already tugging at your shorts with hands that were almost confident, but you could feel the hesitation in the way his fingers struggled with the button, like he was trying to be smooth and failing miserably.

The moment he stripped you down he got up to take his pants off, you giggled at the poor boy when he accidentally got his foot caught in his shorts and nearly fell off the couch.

“You’re never fuckin’ bringing this up again,” he growled, face scarlet as he kicked the shorts halfway across the room.

“Oh, I’m absolutely bringing it up on our wedding day.”

Your stomach did flips seeing his dick bob out. Then you brought your hand up brushing his thigh, his cock twitched, and all jokes disappeared real fast.

“…Shit. Y-you’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that?” You smiled, guiding his hand to touch you this time. “You gonna be gentle with me suki?.” you moan out grinding into his fingers.

He let out a groan shaking his head, “I’ll be gentle—’til you start beggin’ me not to be.”

He removed his fingers you were using and quickly tried to get the condom—well…fought with it, really, like it had declared war. You tried to help, but both of you were laughing too hard. He finally got it—fingers trembling slightly as he tore the condom open, then rolled it down over himself with shaky focus. He kissed you again, messier this time, all tongue and want, hips grinding into yours like he couldn’t wait a second longer, his cock slipping between your wet folds giving your clit a good tease before he fumbled between your thighs, trying to line himself up, but his aim was off—too frantic, too eager. You reached down, wrapping your hand around him to help guide him, and his whole body jolted.

“Fuckfuckfuck—I-I’m not gonna last if you keep touching me like that—” He blushed so hard you thought his face might combust. When he finally pushed inside you—slow, deep, careful—you swore you saw stars behind your eyelids.

“Shit, you’re tighter than I thought—wait, is it supposed to feel like this?”

“It’s fine, Katsuki, you’re just big.”

It stung a little. You both hissed and clutched each other, moving slow, breath trembling, trying to find a rhythm that didn’t feel completely ridiculous. Then he angled just right. Hit just right. And you moaned his name so pretty, “Sukiiiii—.” he damn near blacked out.

His hips stuttered as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath ragged and hot against your skin. “I’m tryin’ to be gentle baby,” he gritted out, voice nearly breaking with restraint, “but you’re makin’ it real hard.” His fingers dug into your waist like he was holding on for dear life, every inch of him trembling with the effort not to lose control. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, dragging his mouth down your throat. “Not that I’d ever fuckin’ let ‘em try.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trembling as you tilted your head back. Fingers tangling in his hair, you gasped out, “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop… don’t be gentle, Suki.”

He froze for a split second, eyes darkening with a mixture of shock and desire. Then, his grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your ear.

“You sure about that?” he asked, voice rough and strained, but you could feel the edge of something darker creeping through his tone.

You nodded desperately, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Yes baby please”

That was all it took. A growl escaped his throat, low and feral, before he flipped you onto your back with an unexpected, almost brutal force. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, and there was no trace of the hesitant Bakugou from moments before.

“You’re gonna take me, and you’re gonna love it,” he spat, his voice laced with raw need. He didn’t wait for an answer—his lips crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss, his hands rough as they gripped your hips, forcing your body against his in a way that made you gasp.

His movements were fast, almost too fast—his thrusts hard, relentless, pushing you deeper into the sheets as he gave in to his instincts. Each rough move sent a shock of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping the bed tight.

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, voice raw with pleasure as he buried his face in your neck. “You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck you like this? Make you mine?”

His movements were fast, almost too fast—his thrusts hard, relentless, pushing you deeper into the sheets as he gave in to his instincts. Each rough move sent a shock of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but moan out in pure desperation.

“YES, GOD, PLEASE,” you moaned, exaggerating the desperation in your voice, your back arching up to meet him as you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in.

“PLEASE, SUKI, DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP!”

His pace didn’t slow. You felt every inch of him, each thrust a mix of hunger and possession. The sounds of skin slapping, your breathless moans, and his groans filled the room, and it was all you could focus on. Bakugou wasn’t holding back anymore. Neither were you.

Every thrust was like a discovery. Every sound made both of you twitch, cursing between groans, and you held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

And when you both finally came—breathless and shaking. You were both a mess—sweaty, tangled in each other like you’d been through something way bigger than just your first time. Bakugou was still on top of you, face buried in your neck, trying to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice rough and low, still catching his breath. His forehead rested against yours, sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to his skin.

You smiled, dazed, your fingertips brushing over his shoulder. “You good?”

He huffed a laugh—barely. “Yeah. Just didn’t think it’d feel that fuckin’ good.”

You tilted your head, teasing gently, “What, exceeded expectations?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how wrecked he looked. “Nah. You ruined me.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped again, gravelly and full of promise. “Next time, I’m not holdin’ back.”

You stared up at him, chest still rising and falling, lips parted. “No fucking way... What the hell does not holding back look like—hospitalization?”

His eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I was on my best fuckin’ behavior.”

You couldn’t help but shiver under the weight of that promise. He leaned in, kissed you slow and deep, then murmured against your lips, “Next round, I’m gonna make sure you can’t even walk straight.”

You grinned and rolled your eyes, fingers tugging his hair just enough to make him grunt. “I’ll hold you to that.”

[kissforyouu]

i love you — a compilation !

warnings : suggestive content + explicit language + mention of substances

authors note : i had so much fun writing the Roblox part lmfao (from personal experience unfortunately😅😅) I hope y’all enjoy the rest of the fic :)) HAPPY V DAY MY LOVES!!!! ❤️❤️

｡𖦹°��⭑.ᐟ giving him a note saying “don’t smile if you want toe curling sucky sucky tonight”

You excitedly giggle over the folded piece of paper held in between your fingers, thinking to yourself of what your boyfriends reaction would be.

You saw people on TikTok do this trend, and here you thought, yeah why not try this on Jungkook. You were gonna give him sucky sucky anyways^^

“Get back in bed…”, Jungkook groans from his room, patting your side of his bed. Your back is turned to him and bent over as you write the little text on the paper. “Nevermind, stay there bent over and you’re getting instant backshots, okay?” He laughs.

You snort, turning around now. You don’t say anything, stay fully silent, but walk towards him.

“Mmf, finally.” Your boyfriend sighs in pleasure from just having you close to him. He blinks rapidly, breathing heavily. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t geeking a little right now, having already smoked some weed earlier. So he was a little a high, perfect setting for the little bomb you’re gonna drop on him.

You don’t speak, but hand over the neatly folded piece of paper to him. Jungkook looks at you confused, eyebrow raising a little. He adjusts himself on the bed, sitting up to read it. You try holding in your laugh.

Jungkook, high, tries to read the text on the paper. He giggles, reading out loud, “If…you want…toe curling?” He looks at you with a smirk “—sucky sucky? …tonight, don’t…smile…”

He smiles, what I had written not registering in his head yet. He takes a few seconds to process it, and suddenly, his big giddy smile drops. Jungkook’s entire body turns stiff and he straightens himself. He clearly his throat, eyes landing somewhere else in the room.

He sucks in his cheeks, attempting to make a serious face.

“My love, you look like handsome squidward when you do that”, you giggle, holding his face by both of your hands.

Jungkook cracks out a laugh, immediately breaking his composure. It wasn’t even that funny, but he’d always find everything funny when he’s high. He giggles his way through, crumbling the piece of paper in his hand.

“Be for real, that was not funny”, you laugh at the geeked out man in front of you. “You lost the game though. You’re laughing.”

Suddenly, Jungkook stiffens his posture and clears his voice. He’s back to acting serious again, which made you slap his face jokingly.

“You’ve lost already!” But he shakes his head in deny. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh U”— you shut him up with a kiss.

“I’ll still give you sucky sucky because you’re my good boy, okay?” You palm his hard on through his boxers.

“Hey, I’m the dominant here!”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ JK getting mad at his girlfriend whenever she buys things with her own money.

“I missed your cute ass room.” He said with a beaming smile on his face.

“You were here last week, idiot.” You slap the back of his head.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“I miss you even when you’re with me, I miss you always, you know that.”

“Corny.” You laugh at him.

“I know you like that shit.” Jungkook pokes your waist, then a small kiss on your shoulder.

He examines your room as if he’s never been there. But then, pauses.

“Where’d you get this from?,” he walks over to your newly bought expensive white fur caught hanging in your closet.

Jungkook had almost each and every single clothing piece of yours memorised. Mainly because he’s bought almost all of them for you. But this one, certainly, he did not buy.

“Uhh, the store…” you bite your lip.

“What store?”

“Heh.” You knew where he was as going with this.

“Heh? Yeah? What store?” He questions again.

“‘Kay, I’m sorry.” You frown.

“I hate when you don’t use my card. I’ve given you my BLACK card, Y/n. You really can buy anything, big or small. Don’t piss me off.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he leans against your wall, staring at you with a big mean glare. You felt like a child being scolded for taking candy.

“I’ve told you about this already—“

“And I’ve told you about this already too.” He cuts you off. “My card is yours, your card is yours, okay?” He examines my face for expressions of defeat, acceptance. But finds none.

“I don’t want to spend your family’s hard earned money. And yours. It just doesn’t feel right. Plus, what am I going to spend my own money on?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at your question, probably finding it utterly stupid and insane. Who wouldn’t accept free money? You, you wouldn’t.

“Don’t give a fuck. Use my card from now on or I’ll get your card disabled.” He shrugs it off and walks out of your room.

What! WHAT!

“What do you mean you’ll disable my card?!”, you shout, “Jungkook!! Stop!! What the fuck!!” You scream.

꩜ .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ Secretly recording Jungkook who loves to get baby talked

You scroll on your phone absentmindly (lies), while secretly keeping an eye on your boyfriend. His head rests between your thighs, laying there comfortably as he enjoyed whatever anime on the tv.

You think of how you’re going to secretly set up your phone and record him. Hm. Biting your lip, concentrated, you hide the phone behind your pillow and made sure that the camera would be peaking out.

Okay, perfect.

You start by slowly caressing his hair, running your fingers down his locks and massaging his scalp. You made sure to scratch his scalp with your new set of nails, which he paid for. You know he likes that. Like, a lot.

Jungkook moans, his head’s weight fully dropped down to your thigh. You hum back, hands now moving from his scalp to his face. You trace his cheekbones, his nose, his eyebrows, his lips—you even teasingly put a finger in.

Sometimes, you remember he’s your boyfriend and that you could touch him however you wanted and that makes you the happiest girl in the world.

You go on to trace his eyes, his eyelashes then ears. Jungkook hums in relaxation, giving his full body control to you. He looooves when you did this. You go on to pull on his cheeks a couple times, and then ;

“Come up.” You tap his head with the tip of your nail.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything back, but raises himself up from the position below and turns around to lay in between your arms.

Let the fun begin, heh.

“I love you.” You tell him, with a wet kiss on his cheek.

He flashes his boyish smile at you, eyes fully locked on yours as he traced your lips, “I love you more, baby.”

“But you’re my baby.” You soften your voice a little bit, squeezing his nose teasingly. “No, you are.” He argues back. “No, wrong, you’re my baby.” Jungkook cracks a smile again, a small giggle escaping his lips, “Fine. I am.” He finally surrenders.

You squeal, beginning to place kisses all over his sweet face. Lips, nose, cheeks—everywhere. You shut his eyes, just so you could kiss his eyelids.

“I love you so much, my little baby.”

Jungkook groans into your neck, overwhelmed with all the affection as his cheeks took a sudden colour to red.

“Awh, you’re blushing! Who’s making you blush, hm?” You squeeze his cheeks really hard. I know that hurts.

“Ywu.” He manages to say one word.

“What’s my name?”

“Y/n—mmph”

“No. That’s not my name.”

“Mwomwy.”

Wait, LMAO— you weren’t expecting him to call you that right away. You thought it would have to take a lot of convincing, I guess not.

You kiss his glossy lips as a reward, finally letting go of his cheeks. You suffocate the man from hugging him really really tight, chest pressed right to his face. I don’t think he’s having a bad time though. His face was right on your boobs, fully dived in.

“Baby, you’re making me feel less of a man”, he says on a serious note, hands travelling down to rest on top of your booty shorts.

“It’s okay, nobody’s gonna know anyway. They don’t have to know that you’re my babyboy.”

“Stop.” He groans, arms how fully around your waist as he avoids eye contact. He’s shy.

“My baby star candy.” You kiss his hair again. “Look up to me, baby.” You tap his face, raising his chin up. Jungkook hums, making eye contact with you now.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy?”

You are trying so hard not to laugh. It’s so hard. Fuck. You stiffen your face, take in a big gulp and stay still. Jungkook looks at you weird, almost like he’s going to call you weird, but then, he just lets out a big massive gigantic groan and says—

“Uugghhh, me.”

You could see the visible disgust in his face, but also you could tell that he kind of liked it. LMAO. You can’t hold it in anymore, so you burst out laughing. You laugh so much you have to hold your stomach in.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Maybe—HEY WHAT THE FUCK!”

The idiot finally spots the camera hiding behind the pillow, screaming as he jumps off your body. You can’t stop laughing. You’re still laughing. Holy shit. You hold your stomach tighter, trying to breath.

“Haa—haaa, fuck, I can’t breath, AHAHAHAHA”

Jungkook screams too, grabbing the phone. He clears his voice before speaking.

“What the actual fuck, Y/n? What the fuck?” He stops the recording and throws the phone away. “Not funny.”

You’re still laughing, eyes closed tight with a big smile on your face. Jungkook thinks you look the prettiest like this.

“Never do that ever again. You are also not posting that anywhere.” He says with a stern voice.

“Okay, but you were into it, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“…maybe.”

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ���� “you’re spinning me around, my feet are off the ground!^^”

You shiver because of the extreme weather (it’s just snowing), hands tightly wrapped around yourself as you squeeze yourself into your boyfriend’s body.

“It’s cold.” You’re shivering.

You tug onto your skirt—yes, skirt in the damn cold—and pull it down to cover your thighs as if it’s going to do anything.

“No shit”, your boyfriend laughs, warm hands rubbing your waist under your shirt. But his hands leave you for a brief moment and sneaks under your skirt and hooks his fingers onto your underwear right on your asscheeks and pulls the stretchy material down. You shriek, hitting his stomach as a reaction.

“This barely covers your ass. Why are you wearing a shortass-barely-a-skirt-skirt in winter? You dumbfuck.” He flicks your forehead.

“It’s for the fashion, Jungkook. At least I look good.” You huff.

“Yeah, sure, you look good but you’re freezing your ass off in this snow. I even feel bad to throw snowballs at you because you’re shivering already.” He squeezes the back of your thighs that were cold as fuck, like meat put in the freezer.

“Let’s do the thing now! The video!” You remind Jungkook, hitting on his chest as a signal.

He nods his head with a groan, placing your phone on the car so that it stands up right.

“What do I do again?” He looks at you with a slightly nervous lip bite.

“Follow the lyrics and then pick me up when it says my feet are off the ground, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You giggle and press the little red button—record—so that the video would start playing.

“ you’re spinning me around ”

Jungkook giggles, pulling you to him by your waist so that your body would smash against his. He grabs your other hand, intertwining it with his and his other hand on your hip, yours on his shoulder, he dances with you, spinning you around along with him.

“ my feet are off the ground ”

With a laugh, his face fully scrunched up, the beautiful man whom you’re in love with hooks his strong arms under your thighs and lifts you up, completely effortlessly. You squeak, feet wiggling and hanging while your upper body clinged to his. You smile at the camera, face heating up fully.

“ I don’t know where I stand

do you have to hold my hand ? ”

He puts you down quickly, hand patting the top of your ass as a way of saying “good job”. You stand next to him with a big smile as the lyric plays. Then he holds your hand really tightly, swinging it back and forth to great lengths.

“ you mystify me

you mystify me

you mystify me ”

As the lyric switches, he pulls you in again and kisses you, hard. Lips smacking against eachother, he pulls you into a deep kiss full of love and passion. At the second mystify me, Jungkook bends you back by your back, deepening the kiss. He put his hand on his cheek, thumb on your jaw as he lifts his face up to kiss you even deeper. By the last mystify me, Jungkook pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips together still.

Your cheeks were flushed red, quite literally, and so were his. His lips were glossy and his eyes twinkled like stars. There was a big cheesy smile on your face, you felt like a child who’s just had her first kiss ever. You love him so much.

You shyly take steps forward to stop recording the video on his phone. Jungkook looks at you, proud, because he’s just made his girl shy again.

“Shy? What? Like you weren’t sucking my balls off last night?”

Why does he have to ruin everything.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ calling him “daddy” as a prank (right in front of your dad)

It took a while for Jungkook to earn your father’s trust. He had to work for it. Bring you home on time, show up and talk to him, engage with the rest of your family—he had to learn to express his love for you really loud in front of your family. Once he fully gained your father’s trust, he was automatically invited to every event your family hosted.

And, that’s no different from right now. Your family was hosting a barbecue. A lot of your family was there, your cousins, uncles and aunts, almost everyone. It was always fun to spend moments together as family. Jungkook was practically family at this point :).

; Which was perfect! For your prank! Of course!

As of now, you were waiting for your boyfriend and dad to end up in the same place.

You were in your kitchen, snacking on some strawberries while being a little bent over on the kitchen isle. Without getting noticed, your boyfriend slithers behind you and creeps his dirty hands up your dress to squeeze your ass cheeks hard. What the fuck! You scream!

“Ack! Jungkook, you scared me!” You whine.

He snickers, places kissing on your shoulder blade while his hands made their way around your waist. “Mmhhhm,” he inhales in the scent of your perfume, letting his full body weight fall onto yours. You ruffle his hair and feed him a strawberry. Jungkook watches the way the juice of the fruit falls onto your neck, so he just lols his tongue out to lick it off, with a smirk of course.

“No, they’ll see.” You warn him.

“Mhm, no.” He murmurs into your neck. His voice was almost inaudible, just audible enough for you to hear it. It was so small and breathy, so needy.

Jungkook breaths into your neck, still kissing you there, leaving light wet pecks on your flesh. “You’re going to get us caught, mh, Jungkook.”

He shakes away your thoughts, fingertips moving lower and lifting up your dress. He taps your clothed clit with the back of his fingers, sending a shiver down your spine.

“No, not in public,” you place your hand on top of his, but don’t move it, and let him do whatever. Jungkook chuckles at your submission, which he expected, of course. But just as he was about to put his hand inside, your little sister screams as she runs into the kitchen.

You both flinch, terrified, screaming! Jungkook withdraws his hand back, covering his actions by just coughing really loud as if he was trying to scratch his throat.

“I want strawberries!” She shouts.

“Yeah, baby? Okay, wait.” You begin cutting up some strawberries for her. In the meantime, your father enters the room, suspiciously eyeing you and Jungkook.

“Daddy, sissy is cutting me strawberries.”

Your dad nods in approval, lifting up your sister and placing her on the kitchen isle.

Now, you never used the nickname “daddy” as much in the bedroom. But whenever you did, Jungkook would be obsessed. He’d beg you to call him that again frequently, but you never did, often finding it ‘cringe’ and ‘weird’. Therefore, you weren’t quite sure whether he would follow the command or not. But heh, worth the try.

“Daddy, can you grab me a bowl?”

In instinct, your father turns around to grab a bowl from the cupboards. But another thing catches his attention, it’s how Jungkook’s reaching for the exact same bowl he was reaching for. They both pause in the moment, looking at eachother’s faces with absolute horror plastered across theirs.

“What the fuck—” your dad exclaims before your sister cuts him off, “—daddy, bad word!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He apologises to your sister, swatting Jungkook’s hand away as he grabs the bowl and places it in front of you.

He’s glaring at the two of you as of now. Jungkook is left flustered, and startled, and sort of angry in a way because he knew you planned this. He darts his eyes at you very sharply.

You give him a small smile. Jungkook tries to escape the situation by walking away, but—

“Jungkook, stay.”

Oh fuck.

Your dad was always a strict man. He wasn’t a crazy type strict, but still very much protective over his daughters.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, you just knew you were going to receive a good scolding from Jungkook later.

Your sister finally walks away, munching on her sweet strawberries. Your father, however, taps his fingers on the table, looking between both of you. You’re both silent, like 2 children having caught doing something really sneaky.

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear and witness that.” He darts his eyes at Jungkook.

“Secondly, I hope you are using protection.”

Then he just leaves.

Fuck, you are so embarrassed. You look at Jungkook with a small smile, while he gives you a death glare.

The thing is, dad, we are not using protection either. #rawnextquestion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 ༘⋆ ִ ₊⊹ dream blunt rotation

You sigh, watching your boyfriend roll another blunt. You observe each and every one of his moments carefully. The way he rolls his filter paper, the way he licks the end of the paper to seal it all together. He did it so precisely. He always did. Your boyfriend was, like, the master blunt roller. You in the other hand could never master it. He always rolled your blunts for you.

Jungkook taps the almost completely rolled blunt on the table about 10 times so that all the weed would be inside the rolled paper, then fills it to the top with a bit more weed.

“Hm.” He hands the blunt over to you, “you want me to roll more, baby?”

You shake your head, “this is enough.”

You light up the blunt with—heh, your super cute hello kitty lighter which, by the way, Jungkook decorated for you. Yeah, he bought all the little charms and decorated the lighter for you. You’re in love with this man.

You light the end of the blunt, and put the other side in your mouth to take a small inhale. You exhale the air out, snuggling into your boyfriend’s couch. You were staying over at his place, no way in hell would you smoke at yours. Only in your room, that too if your parents weren’t home. Jungkook’s parents didn’t care. They knew he did all sorts of things. They didn’t really care as long as he did his academics well, which he did.

Jungkook takes an inhale out of his joint, head thrown back as he sighs, eyes closed. Suddenly, he starts giggling.

“What?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

“I love you so much. I get emotional when I’m smoking, I don’t fucking know why, but I love you, you know that.” His cheeks take a shade of light pink.

You’re cheeeeeeezzzziiinnnnggggg. There’s a small giggle out of you, and you scoot closer to kiss his cheek and drag a smoke out of your joint as well.

“I love you more, you know that too. And you’re forever going to be my blunt roller slash plug.” You laugh.

“Jesus, I should start making you pay.”

“That’s so odd for you to say.”

Jungkook laughs, agreeing.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, taking an inhale.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” You ask, taking another hint.

“Dream what?” Jungkook laughs, finding the question absolutely ridiculous.

“Like, if you could share your shit with anyone, who? Like, a group of people, mhm?”

He laughs again and grabs your hand that was placed on your thigh and kisses the back of it, “you. Why would I wanna be smoking with anyone else besides you?”

“You smoke with your friends.”

“Well, yeah”—he groans, “but like, you’re my dream, you know? You’re my…dream blunt rotation? Whatever you call it.” He declares his love for you again in rather a more romantic way.

“I’m your dream?,” you giggle, lashes batting. Now it’s your turn to kiss the back of his hand. You stare at your boyfriends big doe eyes as he hummed in response. You take another hit of the joint, keeping the smoke still in your mouth, and pull him into your body. You kiss Jungkook with passion, your saliva mingling together as the smoke transfers down to his mouth. Your boyfriend groans and breaks the kiss to inhale and exhale the smoke.

Both of you were starting to sweat despite the A/C, and the weed was starting to take a toll on you as well. You take another inhale, eyes batting to shut down. “Oh my god,” you moan, head falling against Jungkook’s shoulder.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” He asks back.

“Well,” you begin, “Robert Pattinson, Lee Jong-suk, Woo Do-Hwah—”

“Actually shut the fuck up.” Jungkook shuts you up with a harsh slap to your thigh, making you wince, followed by a giggle.

“‘Kay, sorry. They’re hot though.”

“What about me?” There’s a big fat pout on his face.

“You’re hotter, you’re my husband.” You give him a big fat smile, and a big fat wet kiss on his forehead.

“I think I’m hard.”

And you look down and see a big fat monster tent staring right back at you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Roblox with your boyfriend / headcannons

Jungkook never played Roblox until you forced him to do so. He first laughed at you and called you childish for still playing Roblox, fast forward sometimes he begs you to play it with him.

You got into Roblox through your little sister Evie of course. She’d always ask you to play dress to impress with her, and who are you to say no? That’s when you felt like dragging Jungkook into this.

He would always supply you an endless amount of robux. You and Evie, of course. His account however would only have like 5 robux left, whilst yours was like 10k all the time. You had access to his Roblox account, so you’d randomly log into his account and change his avatar a bit here and there.

He also only had two friends on Roblox, that would be you and Evie. For some reason, he had a bunch of followers on Roblox. He always wondered why, since he never even played like that. You had about 200 friends on roblox though. And like a bunch of followers. LOL.

Moving onto the games you play, it ranges from cute girly games to horror games. Most of the time, it’s always dress to impress. Jungkook would always call it boring but also yell whenever he doesn’t place.

You’d play arsenal, mm2, doors, mocker, dead silence, hello kitty café, royale high—likewise.

Also, don’t tell anyone, but sometimes whenever you guys are hanging out, you’d ask him “hey, wanna have e sex?” and go on LifeTogether on Roblox and do it there for shits and giggles. You always found it funny, and he just did whatever would make his girlfriend happy. happy wife = happy life. Oh, and of course you have real sex after^^.

Everytime another headless gets deleted, Jungkook would just spend like 800 robux to buy you another. He’s so cute, you love him so much.

You and Jungkook would have cute matching Roblox fits. His would be all pink and cute, he didn’t care since it was Roblox. You guys would deffo get labelled as a “corny Roblox couple” LOL.

Jungkook’s favourite game though, as corny as it sounds, unfortunately, is dahood💔. You hate that game passionately from the bottom of your soul but he loves it. He logs in and starts fights with randos. Sometimes he would kill you and carry you around the place. He’s done some cute things though. Like once, he planted dahood flowers all over the place and wrote ‘I love you’ on the wall using dahood graffiti.

outfit inspo 4 u guys + dti sneak peak :

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ^ྀི the topic of kids !

“Jungkook?” You ask your boyfriend, who just hums at you. He’s sleepy.

“You ever think of kids?” Your voice is sleepy as you sleep.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “with you? Yeah, all the time. Why do you ask?”

It feels nice. It feels really nice to know that he feels the same way about you. He also wants to have children with you. Not now, for sure, but one day.

“I fantasise about our future a lot. You’re not going to leave me, are you? I’ll make chop suey out of your dick and feed it to the sharks if you do.” You threaten him, followed by a yawn. Jungkook just laughs, the sound of his soft laugh echoing from one year to another. You love the sound of it. So, so, so incredibly much.

“You’d have to kill me to make me leave you, my beautiful baby Y/n. Even so, I’d come haunt you as a ghost. ‘M never leaving you alone.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You say as your fingers fondle with the gold chain around his neck. “How many kids do you want?”

“Hmm,” he thinks for a moment, “how many does mommy want? I’d like to have as many as you’d want to pop out” ; he ends his sentence with a laugh.

“Mommy wants at least 3.”

He nods, hand patting the crown of your head. “‘Kay, daddy agrees too.”

“You think…I’ll be a good mom?” Your words are a tad bit slurred as the drowsiness is getting to you really bad, but you still ask your question.

“Is that a question? You’re the most patient person I know. You’re the most genuine and kindest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes I don’t understand why you’re still with me because I can be such an asshole sometimes. You’re like, the angel that I was blessed with. You’re the light to my life, the sun to my moon, I don’t know brah”—he pauses and holds you tighter and murmurs, “you know how I feel about you,” into your neck.

You giggle, your grip tightening around your plushy as you blushed. “What are you? A poet?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re making me horny. Let’s make a football team.”

[atrirose]

⠀⠀( ⠀⠀치클 ⠀⠀) ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ GRWM ⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 ! ⠀⠀ enha

⠀⠀ s : GRWM to break up with my boyfriend oops ! ᆼᆽᆼ enha ! bf x f ! r .. tiktok 𝓈eries ⠀⠀⠀ㅜㅜ warning : kissing + FLUFF wc 1.2k ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ seiu : tt update after 300 yr

— HEESEUNG LEE

you sat on the bed with a phone sat up, recording you with heeseung in the background not paying attention, lost in his phone “get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend” heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned towards you, your back faced him, “what are you talking about?” he questioned “not now babe i’m trying to film a tiktok”

“no i can see that but would mind explaining yourself real quick yn” he scooted closer to you, grabbing your shoulders to make you face him “it’s a get ready with me video hee” you said rolling your eyes “yeah i know that but what do you mean ‘to break up with my boyfriend’?” he said, you try not to laugh but it’s impossible seeing how serious heeseung is “god you are so cute” you said as you cupped his face and gave him a quick peck “i was just joking”

“it better be joke, we aren’t ending ever”

— JONGSEING PARK

“what are you doing?” jay asked as you set up the camera “just a tiktok” he hummed going back to his song writing “hi guys ! get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend” you peered over jay from the camera, he didn’t even move an inch, still busy with his notepad writing, “so me and my boyfriend have been dating for 3 years now and honestly he is the best you could ask but i just don’t feel like it anymore so i decided to break up with him” you did your skin care as you blabbed nonsense but jay still remained stoic.

you switched off the phone as you stomped your way towards him, he looked up with a smirk “what’s wrong darling? are you done with the tiktok?” this cheeky bastard “you…” you are pouting trying to find the correct words but instead of you getting a reaction out of him he has you all bothered “me?”

“meanie” you said walking away only to be pulled by him, you landed on his lap, he hugged you tightly “we are not breaking up ever so these pranks won’t work on me, why don’t you find another one hmm?” he said pressing you against his chest

“you and me have to grow old together”

— JAEYUN SIM

“get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend” jake looked “what?” he questioned hoping he heard wrong “jake not now im filming a tiktok”

“i’m pregnant” you whipped your head towards him in disbelief “that’s not how it works jake” you said doing your mascara while he fiddled with your jacket trying to think of some excuse “yn stop i will cry” you giggled at him, cupping his face and pulling him for a long peck “say you are joking” his face still being squeezed by your hands “it’s a prank jake sorry baby” your his nose while he glared at you “not funny, im afraid you have no humor, the police going to get you”

“i accept cuddles and kisses to forgive you for what you did”

— SUNGHOON PARK

“you’re recording?” sunghoon said as he flopped behind you on the bed watching some video on his phone “yeah” you said setting up the stuff “okay, i will turn off the volume” he said getting up to kiss your cheeks before you hit record

“hi guys, i know it’s been so long since i posted anything but get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend” sunghoon paused the video as he got up sitting next to you, his eyes scanning your face as you “babe do you need some-”

“unless you have other boyfriends you are breaking up, but you obviously don’t thus stop lying to them and start recording again” he said, he deleting the recording “you can’t do that” you said as sunghoon laid back down on the bed again “i can do anything” he said pulling you down with him, he kissed you holding your waist down while your hands travelled down his biceps “wouldn’t be able to kiss me if you break up yn” he said smirking, kissing your cheeks all the way down to your collar bone.

“you’re mine forever”

— SUNWOO KIM

“get ready with me-” sunoo enters the washroom in confusion “babe tiktok? without me?” sunoo fake pouts “sorry sun, next okay” you pecked his lips “okay but remember we have to leave soon” he said sitting down at the bed leaving the door open “okay ! so get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend” a loud voice came from outside so you went out to check what it was “sunoo are you okay?” you went over to look if he got hurt “yeah i’m fine and you can take your time yn. no rush” hearing your name instead of babe or honey made you gulp.

“i should call the restaurant and let them know we can’t make it too” he said unlocking his phone and you thought its better to say it’s a prank before he starts crying “sunoo it’s a prank babe, im sorry” he turns towards you with a smile “oh good for a second i thought we need to get on” he put his phone up and records himself while you look at him confused “get ready with me to break up with my girlfriend” you hit him as he laughs “stop”

he kissing your forehead “i can never lose you, it will break me, never joke about it”

— JUNGWON YANG

“babe this one?” jungwon asked passing you a face mask “yes thank you” you hit record as he sat on a sofa opposite to you, so he can be out of the frame, admiring his pretty girl “get ready with me ! breaking up with my boyfriend edition” his eyes quickly went from admiring to shocked big boba eyes, he looked like he was frozen “what do you mean?”

“not now won, i’m filming” he didn’t care he sat beside you peering like a cat “if this is a way to engage with audience or just rage bait, i do not care, your not do such a thing please” he said turning off your phone “saying please when i know you are giving an order” he smiled “cuddles please” — “that’s another order with an unnecessary ‘please’ i have face mask on now won” you rolled your eyes, he hugged your waist and made you lay with him.

“i do not care” he said snuggling into your neck

— RIKI NISHIMURA

“get ready with me to break up with my boyfriend-” a loud choking noise “you have other boyfriends because you sure aren’t getting ready to break up with me”

“so you are cool with me having other boyfriends but not breaking up with you” you put on your hair band to get your hair off your face “absolutely not but-” he stumbled with his words trying to find the right thing to say while you hummed and did your skincare, watching him confused “wait how did it get to me having to give an explanation when you are the one in wrong” he huffed

you giggled at his pouty face, twisting from confusion to frustration, you kissed his cheek “i was joking riki” he glared at you trying to prove he is still angry but of course that didn’t last long when you showed up with his favorite food.

“better not pull this again or you will on time out”

[kxsagi]

Could you do something about the Blue Lock Boys with a girlfriend who practices a sport like Muay Thai or boxing professionally and is quite famous for dragging her opponents? 💘

“𝐊𝐎: 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝”

a/n: get em girl boss

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

silently obsessed. he never says anything, but you catch him rewinding your fight clips with laser focus like he’s decoding national secrets. 

“your weight distribution was off by 3% in round two.” bro how do you even know that? 

secretly has your “top 10 verbal takedowns” saved to his phone. watches them when he needs cheering up. 

he’s not impressed when you trash talk. he’s turned on. 

you call someone “a wet mop with delusions” and he just raises an eyebrow like, hot. 

refuses to sit in the VIP section, instead sits in the back so no one sees how fast he’s clapping when you land a KO. 

“that punch was sloppy.” five minutes later in private: “... you looked good though.” 

itoshi sae

you could be dragging your opponent across the ring by their hair and sae would still be in the front row sipping iced coffee like it’s a spa day. 

literally unfazed. she’s choking someone? cool. what’s for dinner? 

sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until he shows up behind you post-match like, “hey. you’re bleeding. want tacos?” 

thinks your trash talk is theatrical brilliance. 

“she said ‘i’m gonna turn you into a cautionary tale’ and then actually did. love that for her.” 

got banned from interviews because he kept answering on your behalf. “how do you feel about the win?” “she’s hungry. move.” 

you're punching people, he's posting “date night ❤️” selfies. 

isagi yoichi

isagi fell for your smile. the public fell for your fists. 

he watches your matches like he’s witnessing a crime. jaw clenched, eyes wide, muttering prayers like a soccer mom watching an MMA bloodbath. 

you’re standing over your KO’d opponent, shouting, “tell your coach to pick better fighters,” and he’s clapping like “yay baby good sportsmanship 👍” 

pre-fight: “good luck, you got this ��️” 

post-fight: googling how to hide a body because you just ended someone's career. 

once tried to “trash talk” your rival to hype you up and said, “you’re gonna get dropped so hard, your sponsors are gonna ghost you. better hope your wifi connection is stronger than your jaw.” 

kisses your bruised knuckles gently like you’re a porcelain doll, not the reason three people retired early. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand anything about boxing but calls you “champ” with his whole chest. 

falls asleep watching your replays. wakes up like, “oh nice punch babe.” 

once live-tweeted your match with absolutely zero context: “she kicked someone. she’s mad. i want a sandwich.” 

wore your merch to your match, but accidentally put it on backwards. 

lets you practice moves on him but flops like a ragdoll after one jab. “ugh too hard. let me lay here. i’m your emotional support floor.” 

told the team your pre-fight stare “felt like being hunted by a hot panther.” 

thinks your trash talk is poetry. “you said she hits like a toddler with pool noodles? iconic.” 

mikage reo

you’re the fists, he’s the PR team. this man markets your violence like a startup. 

“she punches, she profits, she slays. watch the brand grow.” 

always wearing your custom gloves around his neck like a necklace. people think he boxes, too. he does not. 

posts ringside selfies with captions like: “date night 🥰✨ (she sent someone to the ER xoxo)” 

gets personally offended when your opponent breathes in your direction. 

“did she just look at you funny? okay, but WHO gave her that right.” 

hands out business cards that say “a maneater’s boyfriend 💋” 

has your catchphrases trademarked. yes, even the one where you threatened to turn someone’s ribs into origami. 

kaiser michael

somehow thinks your fights are about him. 

“she wins because she’s inspired by my greatness.” kaiser pls. 

stands ringside with his arms crossed and a smirk like he’s the final boss of the match. 

you said “i’m gonna fold her like a beach chair” and he printed it on a hoodie. wears it proudly. 

reporters: “kaiser, are you afraid of your girlfriend’s aggression?” 

kaiser: “afraid? i fuel it.” 

makes you couple’s merch that says “she hits / he hollas” 

once kissed you mid-match. literally interrupted the referee. said it was “good luck.” you still won. 

karasu tabito

you flame someone during weigh-ins and he’s behind you whispering, “YEAH. GET HER ASS.” 

follows your rival’s private account on twitter just to “hate more efficiently.” 

“i’m not petty. i’m supportive.” 

once shouted “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” when you dislocated someone’s shoulder. 

analyzes your fights like a reality show. “did you see her face when you landed that hook? chef’s kiss.” 

lets you demonstrate chokeholds on him just so he can say, “yeah, she does this to me at home, too.” 

acts scared around you for fun. “i told her i forgot to do the dishes and she did a spinning elbow. i think i blacked out. she’s so cute.” 

bachira meguru

paints your face on a flag. brings it to every match. 

screams “GET HER, BABE! TURN HER INTO A HUMAN PRETZEL!!” from the sidelines. 

once tried to jump into the ring mid-fight because “your foot looked lonely. i wanted to help.” 

you: death glares your opponent pre-match. 

bachira: “aw she’s so pretty when she’s homicidal 🥰” 

makes you fan edits that go viral. 

also made one of your KO punches into a meme template. it’s now used in sports arguments across the internet. 

your opponent: “you suck.” 

bachira, holding up a glitter sign: “say that again but louder so everyone can hear my girlfriend crack your jaw.” 

shidou ryusei

lives for the chaos. you throw one punch and he’s tearing his shirt off in the stands. 

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!! KICK HER IN THE TEETH!!!” 

got banned from five venues for excessive screaming. wears it like a badge of honor. 

tried to propose mid-fight once. while you were punching someone. 

rewatches your KO clips with suspicious enthusiasm. “look at that form. look at that power. i’m so in love with her violence.” 

also calls you pet names like “bloodthirsty babe” and “my precious little war crime.” 

100% believes you could take him in a fight. wants you to prove it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[prlssprfctn]

Bruce being the man he is will have this need to check on his kids while they sleep. Most parents stop doing this as they get older and especially when their kids move out but not Bruce.

He can't not check all of his kids when he is like this, even if it takes hours. And when he's there he'll just stand in the corner to make sure everything is good before disappearing in the night.

Now Damian is the easiest since he still lives im the manor. When Dick and Cass are in town they also stay in the manor but he is not afraid to drive to Bludhaven or take a flight to Hong Kong to calm his nerves. Steph, Duke, and Barbara all live with their families so it isn't the hardest to track. Tim has his apartment that he stays in which is a fast drive away. But Jason, oh Jason, while he does have a nice apartment, he frequents his safe houses more than his siblings. It makes it so Bruce has to run down a list of known locations hoping Jason didn't find a new one.

If he can't find one them after exhausting the list of possible locations they could be at it reaffirms why he has to check each of them whenever he can. Before he can jump into paranoid detective dad they'll walk in with tacos from down the street, averting a crisis.

i just KNOW Jason doesn't help Bruce's paranoia with his random disappearances. Bruce tries to cope by just checking his location, because he did promise Jason some space, but Jason is always on random ass side quests, so it usually goes like this:

Bruce: i hadn't seen Jason since the morning. i need to check his location. Bruce: Bruce: Alfred: is everything okay, master Bruce? Bruce with his eye twitching: what a one does in Sri Lanka all of a sudden? Alfred: ...uh.

Bruce: your trackers stopped working, Jason! I couldn't find you! do you think it is okay?! Jason: okay, damn, it is not like it was intentional, and i can explain??? Bruce: oh, be my guest. explain how come they just turned itself off by themselves and started working magically! Jason: see? you already know the answer - magically! Jason: so, lol, i actually travelled in the past by the accident. Bruce: WHAT

Bruce: Jason's GPS cannot name the location he is in for an hour now. can't help but wonder what it is now. Dick: bet on some magic quest Tim: it happened yesterday. i think he is helping Al Ghuls today Damian: no, Todd had a banter with Ra's, so i doubt he would go for that. Cassandra: All-Caste? Duke: lmao, would be really funny if GPS just broke Stephanie: put your money in the hat, ladies and gentlemen... Bruce: *sighs* Jason, a few hours later: guys, you won't believe what just happened. so, i crushed my airplane by the accident - no, Bruce, wait, that is not the point - and you know where it landed? in FUCKING Hanging Gardens of Babylon???? IT APPARENTLY EXISTS!!! LIKE NOT REMAININGS A FULL MAGIC AHH GARDENS STAIGHT FROM TALES- Stephanie, sliding all money to Alfred: dang. how could you predict something so specific? Alfred, who got selfies from Jason: oh, well, I am an excellent butler.

[wendichester]

Love your writing, you write Dean so well!!!!!! If you’re still taking them, can I request one based on the Siren episode, where reader is on the mission with Dean and Sam, and Dean’s dream girl looks eerily like the reader and you’re like “dude… why does she look like me?” funny, fluffy and smutty? Dean and reader have unresolved tension from previous missions

˙˖°🪞⋆｡⊹˚ ideal type,

summary. there's a siren on the lose and dean is its next target .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 937.

notes. i went to rewatch this episode because I had completely forgotten about it. i had a blast writing this and hope I was able to meet your expectations ehe ‹𝟹

The motel room is small, as always. One bed for you, another for Sam, and Dean relegated to the couch because he lost rock-paper-scissors. Again. The Siren case had been dragging on for days, and the three of you were starting to fray at the edges.

The oldest Winchester leans against the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on the woman before him. Her smile is teasing, lips curving in a way that sets his nerves alight. Everything about her feels familiar―too familiar. She leans in closer, brushing her fingers over his arm.

"You're tense," she says, voice smooth and low, like honey dripping off a spoon.

Dean chuckles, trying to shake off the unease pooling in his gut. "Yeah, well, comes with the territory."

She tilts her head, her dark eyes boring into his. "I can help with that."

Her hand slides up his arm, over his shoulder, and lands on his chest. Dean swallows hard. Something's off, he knows it. But her face... her face looks so much like you, it's unnerving. It's you, but it's not. Not really. Her eyes are just a shade darker, her voice carrying a sultry undertone that he's never heard from you. Yet, the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw... it's almost an exact match.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he mutters, almost to himself.

Her smile widens, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I know,"

Before Dean can process the odd response, she closes the distance between them, her lips pressing against his. It's electric, and for a moment, he forgets everything. Her hands curl into his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepens. Dean's hands move instinctively, gripping her waist and pulling her flush against him. The warmth of her body, the intoxicating scent of her skin, is almost too much.

But then, a sharp sting cuts through the haze, the back of his throat burning. His mind races―something's wrong.

The door bursts open, and Sam storms in with you trailing behind him, wide-eyed and alarmed.

"Dean!" Sam shouts, and Dean jerks back from the woman, his heart pounding.

Your eyes dart between Dean and the woman who looks just like you, horror and confusion etched across your face. "Dude," you breathe, your voice laced with disbelief. "Why does she look exactly like me?"

Dean stumbles back, his head spinning as the realization hits him like a freight train. "Wha‒I‒"

Sam doesn't hesitate. He grabs Dean's arm, yanking him back as the woman―the siren―advances. "She's infected you," Sam snaps, pulling out a bronze dagger from his bag. "Hold still."

Dean barely has time to react before Sam slashes his arm with the blade, drawing blood. Dean hisses but stays upright, his body tingling as the siren lunges. Sam moves like lightning, driving the blood-coated dagger into her chest.

The siren's eyes widen in shock before she collapses, her form flickering and changing, her resemblance to you fading as her true monstrous features are revealed.

The room falls into silence, save for Dean's labored breathing. He presses his hand into his bleeding arm, his gaze darting to you as you approach him.

"You okay?" your voice comes out soft.

"Yeah," he manages to mutter hoarsely. "I'm okay."

Hours later, the Impala hums softly on the road. Sam is passed out in the backseat, his head lolling the window. You sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed under your chest as you glance at Dean, who's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Finally, you break the silence. "Can we address the elephant in the room, now?"

Dean exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw working as he searches for an answer. "I... don't know."

You turn in your seat to face him, brows furrowing as the leather of the Impala cracks underneath you. "Dean,"

He glances at you, then back at the road. "Maybe it's... I don't know. Sirens mess with your head. Make you see things."

Your cheeks heat up, but you press on. "Technically―they show you what you desire most, ya' know... according to Bobby."

Dean's grip on the wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. "Don't be a smartass," he grumbles under his breath, doing his best to avoid your gaze.

"I'm not being a smartass," you counter, your voice softer now. "It's okay, you know. If that's how you feel."

His jaw ticks as he glances at you again, his green eyes darker than usual. "You don't get it," he says, voice low. "It's not just how you look. It's... everything."

Your breath catches, and you struggle to find the right words. The tension in the car is thick, electric. Finally, Dean sighs, shaking his head. "Forget it."

But you don't want to forget it. Not when his words have your heart racing. "Dean..."

He pulls over suddenly, the Impala rolling to a stop on the side of the empty road. He turns to you, his expression intense. "I'm not good at this," he admits. "But, yeah. Maybe the siren got it right. Maybe I do... want you."

Your heart feels like it might burst as his words sink in. "You‒"

He cuts you off by leaning across the seat, his hand cupping your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. It's soft at first, hesitant, but when you kiss him back, it deepens, years of unspoken tension finally breaking free.

When you finally pull back, you're both breathless. Dean rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. "You're not just what I want," he whispers. "You're what I need."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as the Impala's engine hums softly in the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel at ease, the only weight you feel is Dean's hand resting on your thigh.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery

[pinkgy]

hii! if you’re taking requests may i request the kings reaction (+ bael & bimet if its okay) reaction to mc in her sleep pulling them into her grasp and face planting them in her boobs (i think it would be funny like they were just checking on mc and get pulled in😭)

Hi ! Thank you so much for requesting !!

Ahh I love this scenario! And the character choice is 🤌🤌🤌

I had no idea if this request was meant to be smut, fluff, angst, or crack, so I mixed all of them, I hope it's okay, and soooo sorry for the delay :(

"𝙄 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍"

CW: Reader has boobs but I tried my best to not specify the size, Belphegor's is a bit shorter because let's be real he would fall asleep the moment he touches a bed, Bael's is also shorter because my draft of him got deleted 4 times, somnophilia and by defect Dubcon in Beelzebub's, Satan's got emotional somehow, the only one who actually got a bit smutty was Beel's, the rest (some of them) are just suggestive, kinda OOC Leviathan (?) it's hard to write fluff for someone as dense as him.

𝙎𝘼𝙏𝘼𝙉

Satan loved sleeping with you. Both hands weren't enough to count the reasons why. The main one had to be that when he was lying in your arms (or you were lying on his, depending on his mood), he felt like nothing could go wrong. He felt all his worries disappear, and just that small moment between him and you was simply perfect.

One day, while walking out of a meeting, he felt as if he hadn't seen you for a while, so he made his way to your room. Once there, he found you peacefully sleeping—how cute!

BUT, what if you weren't sleeping? What if you passed out? Maybe an angel attacked you and set up your body so it would seem like you were just asleep, or what if Gabriel kidnapped you and set up a lookalike of you or a doll that looks like you to confuse those who walked into your room.

Overthinking took over Satan so he rushed to your bed to check on you, and once he got in your bed and got close to you he suddenly felt your arms wrapping around his neck and pushing his face.

He just remained there, dumbfounded, still processing what just happened, sure he knew you were quite naughty, but so naughty to a point where your sleeping self yearned for him? That was a surprise, a very satisfactory surprise.

Satan lay down with you and hugged you tightly without caring much if he woke you up or not if you had put him in such a suggestive situation it was because you wanted “Something more” But once he felt both your bodies cuddling, your soft hands tangled in his hair, your arms hugging his face endearingly and the comfortable warmth surrounding his face coming from your soft chest, Satan wanted to stay here forever, fuck the angels and fuck the war, this was all he needed in his life.

He felt Gabriel’s brand on your chest pressing against his forehead, it was mocking him, reminding him that he could take you away from him at any moment if that were to happen, Satan had no idea how could he move on, that’s why he treasured moments like this so much, he’s confident about his power and his abilities at protecting you, but one part of him was genuinely scared about the future.

He just wishes time froze and this moment could last forever.

𝙈𝘼𝙈𝙈𝙊𝙉

Satan arranged a super urgent meeting between the two kings that he described as a “Life or death type of urgency”, but that was the secondary reason he went to Gehenna that day, the main one was to visit you, and since the king of that land refused to let anyone kidnap you, Mammon had to settle for sporadic visits until he had a defined plan to steal you away from Satan.

Once his meeting was over, he went straight to your room, at first he knocked, but once he received no response he just entered, once inside he saw your little body wrapped in the sheets, he began to walk slowly trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake you up, and as soon as he was close to you he brought his face closer to yours to observe you more closely, Mammon thought you couldn't look any cuter until he saw you right now.

He may have let his guard down a little too much, because suddenly one of your hands grabbed his horn and the other grabbed his head, and somehow, you planted his head between your breasts.

He stands proud as an ass guy, but who is he to complain, and if it’s your will to keep him in your arms while you sleep, or more specifically, in your chest, then he must obey his master, so as carefully as possible, he places his heavy body beside yours and places his hands directly on his target, your ass.

He would’ve loved to have let his hands explore your body more, in fact, if he wanted to, he would have done it, but Mammon does not dare to break into his master’s dream, your life in hell is stressful enough, that you deserve to rest, and he’s honored that you’re allowing him to be with you at this time, and as long as he’s here with you, no angel would success in trying to attack you.

Mammon hopes that neither of you wakes up to Satan shouting and attempting to murder him when he sees the scene of both of you sleeping together, however, any punch or kick that he may receive will be worth it as long as he continues to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉

He's not a huge fan of sleeping with you, or anyone, but as long as you weren't sharing a bed with somebody else, it was fine for him.

It was a peaceful noon at Hades, way too peaceful, unusually peaceful if he had to admit, something must be wrong, where are you by the way? Where were his nobles?

Casually, Leviathan happened to pass in front of your room, that moment, he stood there and he felt uneasy, it was too much of a coincidence that neither you nor his nobles were around, he opened your door with a bang and entered your room, he started looking desperately, he searched in every corner, opened every cabinet and even checked if Foras turned invisible and hid somewhere.

Then he noticed your sleeping self that by miracle didn’t wake up by the bang of your door and the amount of noise he made while rummaging around your room, that’s when he remembered, he hadn’t checked your bed to see if there was anyone’s unpleasant presence.

That's when it happened, when Leviathan got close to you to lift the bedsheets off your body, in an instant and taking him off guard, you grabbed his head with your arms and planted his face in your chest.

In the beginning Leviathan got mad, how you dare treat him with such rudeness, what’s wrong with you? But then he smelled you, no disgusting smell of any other nasty devil was on you aside from his, he sighed in relief, well, now that his job is done he must go, he had lots of things to do anyways and cuddle time with you wasn’t one of them.

Without caring much if you woke up or not he tried to pull away from you, tried, for a human you had a pretty strong grip he thought, and it didn’t help that your sleeping self gently kissed the top of his head as you snuggled up in his hair, that little act caused things in him, maybe Leviathan was completely unaccustomed to receiving this kind of gestures, so he felt quite weird, and if he was honest, maybe even a little bit good.

Hesitantly, Leviathan got comfortable in your bed and awkwardly held your body between his arms, if he stayed with you right now none of his nobles would dare to enter your room, yeah, that was the reason why he was in your room right now, with both your bodies curled in the bed, his face buried in the pillowy surface of your chest and your hearts beating in unison.

How long has it been since he’s been so at ease in his life? Probably never, and for the first time in god knows how many years, he fell asleep out of the comfort of his coffin, but in a newfound comfort, you.

𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙇𝙕𝙀𝘽𝙐𝘽

Beelzebub has been away for some weeks now, and the first thing he wanted to do was to spend time with you, in fact, he only returned because of that, but to his surprise, when he broke into your room in Gehenna from the window, you were passed out in your bed, how cute.

He not so carefully sat at the side of the bed you were facing and stared at you for minutes, you really looked cute when you were asleep, he swears he just wanted to get a little sniff of your natural scent, but with a tight grip around his neck that for a second caught him off-guard you pulled him to the bed with you, or more specifically, to his favorite place on hell right after between your legs, your chest.

Could he easily get away from your embrace? Yes. Was he going to try? Nah.

Beelzebub would die a happy man suffocated in your chest, and also, this was a great way to get away from Bael, he wasn’t going to enter your room without your permission, right? And also, a little nap with you doesn’t sound bad, who knows what can happen once you wake up, or when you're still in your sleep.

And that's how he ended up getting comfortable beside you, with his head still face planted between your boobs, his legs tangled with yours and a firm thigh pressing against your crotch.

Bold of you to assume Beelzebub isn’t going to try to get his hands on you, in those weeks without you he couldn’t get you out of his head, so as soon as he gets settled in your bed, he takes a deep sniff of your delicious skin and slips his hands under your shorts and places them on your butt gripping it roughly and almost waking you up, almost.

Because once he saw that you were still asleep, he left his hands to wander under your shorts, and before you could do something about it you woke up to Beelzebub with two fingers buried deep inside you and your whole chest covered in hickeys and bite marks, and most importantly, Beel’s mouth vigorously sucking on your sore nipples.

A long night awaits you because he’s not getting out of your bed until he gets a taste of you, or until Satan realizes that he broke in.

𝙇𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙀𝙍

He would rather die than admit it, but Lucifer had a habit of watching you sleep. He would wait for you to fall asleep every night to sneak into your room just to observe you, sometimes he would bring a chair closer to your bed to be more comfortable, and other times he would cover you more with the sheets when he noticed you’re cold, or he would carefully remove some strands of hair from your face, and in some occasions when you’re in a particularly deep sleep, he would sit on the side of your bed to feel you closer to him, situation in which he was in right now.

You were like a beautiful artwork to him, he could gaze at your human self for hours in pure admiration, it didn’t matter if you were in Paradise Lost or in another kingdom of hell, when he had time, he would indulge in this embarrassing habit of him.

You were in such a deep sleep that he felt that if tried to give you a small kiss you wouldn’t wake up at all, but the moment his face approached yours, an unexpected strength that for a second he doubted was yours grabbed his head tightly and smashed it against your warm chest.

Never in his millions of years of age had he been so caught off guard as he is now.

What was he even supposed to do now? Were you asleep? Did you discover him? Lucifer was blank, after a few seconds he realized that your impulsive action was possibly due to an instinct, surely even in your dreams you can recognize him and that’s why you brought him closer to you, which in short means that you want him close to you.

Once his thoughts were organized, careful not to hurt you with his pointed horn, Lucifer lay down on your bed as close to you as possible, in this position he could feel your heart beating more closely, and the fluffy surface of your chest cushioned his face in a comfortable position.

He had to restrain himself from biting your chest or trying to put his hands on your private areas, eventually when he managed to fall asleep he put those thoughts aside, he preferred to be with you in a more personal moment right now, when you both woke up he would have plenty of time to enjoy you in every possible way.

Extra: Gamigin found you two when he was looking for Lucifer, he took a photo for future blackmail material.

𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙋𝙃𝙀𝙂𝙊𝙍

Well, since he's already here, he might as well just sleep with you, what a hassle would it be to go back to his room.

He loves it when things go in his favor, he came to do his great deed of the day by checking on you since it had been a while since he saw you for the last time, and whoops, he's now sleeping with you, what a casualty.

To his surprise, your sleeping self took the initiative and pulled him to the bed first, to the bed, and to somewhere else too, most specifically the best pillow he could ever wish for, your chest.

Belphegor said to himself that he must have been an amazing devil in his past life, because of how wonderful what was happening to him today.

He hates wasting time, so as soon as you planted his face in your boobs, he snuggled there and got comfortable in your bed hugging your body tightly against his.

He would have loved to savor this moment, but his sleepiness won the battle against his horniness, and he passed out, good luck trying to get out of his embrace.

𝘽𝘼𝙀𝙇

He swears he was just trying to cover your sleeping self with a blanket, you pulling him to the bed with you was most definitely not on his plans, not that he complained.

He tried to softly push himself away from you, not because he didn’t like the current scenario of you tightly hugging him, but because Bael thought that even tho you were the one that put him in this situation, you were asleep and weren’t conscious of your actions.

It was a fool's intent, because the moment Bael tried to take your arms and softly put them away from him, you hugged him from the back of his head and squished his face between your beasts.

He was fucked

He was so fucked

Bael had two options, push himself away from you and wake you up, or stay with you in your embrace, in the soft pillowy surface of your chest, surrounded by the aroma of your delicious smell, with your soft arms wrapped around him.

He concluded that he deserved a little rest, and what better chance than this one, cuddled up with you, snuggled up in your chest, what a great life he has, he just wishes that Beelzebub doesn't find him anytime soon.

𝘽𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙏

It was an easy task, you had a headache so Mammon insisted that you should take a nap, he was just supposed to check on you by orders of his king, the current situation he was in was far from the original plan, and turned his quick task into the worst internal debate he’s ever had.

Bimet couldn't even remember how he ended up with his face buried in your chest, for a second he even doubted if you were human because of how fast everything happened.

Should he separate himself from you? You are his king’s property so he would probably feel jealous about this, wait, didn’t Mammon also own him? Then there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

You felt extremely warm, but it was a comforting warmth and not a fever type of warmth, maybe this wasn’t so bad, and either way, you were the one who faceplanted his face between your boobs, so in case anyone complained he had an excuse, Bimet could say that you suddenly developed super strength one day and he couldn't escape from your grip, yeah, that was an amazing excuse, what a genius he is.

Now that his mental debate is over, he could enjoy this little (And convenient) moment with you, so he got comfortable and held your body in his arms.

Just thinking about how the amount of money other devis and even the kings would pay just to be in his place got Bimet all excited, but to their disappointment, he had you now, or you had him.

Bimet underestimated how comfortable he was because in a matter of minutes, he had fallen completely asleep in your arms.

Extra: Mammon did notice Bimet’s absence, and when he went to your room to check if he was here he saw both of you sleeping in each other's arms, Mammon just smiled and took a photo of you.

[mickyschumacher]

[I THINK HE KNOWS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist’s. but all it does is take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, fake dating trope, reader is a graduate uni student, lando being a dream boyfriend, kinda suggestive at the end, mentions of horrible fans and privacy invaded, me knowing nothing about italy let alone lombardy at the end as well.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: third fic of my series! i really loved writing this one! fake dating is always such a hit or miss to write about but in this case, it was a lot easier. hope you enjoyed it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Life’s a funny thing really. Full of mistakes leaving you wondering how you ever got there.  

And as you sat on a bench, looking over at the view of Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy, with ‘hidden’ paparazzi down the street, you began wondering the exact same thing.  

“How long do you think they’ll be here?” You queried, turning your body to face Lando.  

Lando tilted his head, resting his cheek in his hand as he leaned on the top of the bench. His blue eyes briefly raked over you and then where the paparazzi hid. He looked over at his watch. “Give or take twenty minutes. They’ll probably be hungry for actual food soon.”  

You withheld your sigh. How did you get here? Time sure had flown as seven months ago you were just a graduating university student with loan after loan on her shoulders. The very student who still decided to have a sweet treat after handing in her assignment and headed to your favourite cafe. The very student who bumped into Lando Norris and had her bracelet snag on the sleeve of his jacket, landing you in a compromising position as you tried to take it out.  

The very student who woke up the next day with her entire privacy invaded as ‘fans’ hunted you online and seemingly decided not only were you Lando’s girlfriend but the ‘perfect match’. 

That was you.  

Mere hours later, you had Lando’s publicist and underlings knocking at your door with a comprehensive contract and a promise to pay your student loans and pay you. You didn’t think it would last this long. Three months tops... surely. 

So, you signed it. A contract declaring that you were fake dating Lando Norris.  

They said it would help Lando’s image. And help it did. Lando had never looked better to his sponsors. Apparently dating a university graduate makes you look more polished and mature, enough to at least secure a dozen contracts. Most fans seemed to love you. Even the driver’s had taken a liking to you.  

But to you, Lando, and a handful of selectively picked people, this was all fake.  

Every decision was carefully made. The matching jewellery, what he said, what you posted, where you met, the hugs, the arms around the waist, the staring, the kisses... 

And six months later, here you were. On a curated date with the Lando Norris at Lake Como on Valentine’s Day – the third day of your trip. You had both compromised, agreeing to each make a list of things so do in Lombardy, two of which had to be a couple’s activity for the sake of it.  

You had completed most of both of your lists. A visit to Teatro Alla Scala, an opera theatre (your idea, obviously). A guided tour Villa Del Balbianello because Lando needed to see some more real-life scenes of Star Wars (mostly ended up taking photos of you the entire time). An agreed night out from the both of you to Navigli to consume ‘local food.’  

Lando, who desperately wanted to have walk around Lake Como, was sorely disappointed when he spotted the paparazzi hiding around the corner. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching your fingers trail the cracks in the wooden bench.  

“It’s okay,” you assured. “It’ll be over soon anyways.” 

Lando knew you were talking about the paparazzi. But he couldn’t help but think about your relationship with him.  

That day at the cafe... the only reason people thought you two were in a relationship wasn’t just because you were barely a centimetre apart trying to remove your bracelet but in all the photos people had captured, Lando was staring at you like it was love at first sight.  

And before he knew it, everything had gone down. The fans, his publicist, the media... it was a shitshow. And then you showed up two days later having signed a contract to be his fake girlfriend.  

Lando hated it. Fuck, he hated it so much. He hated that he dragged you into this. He hated that every moment with you was planned. And he especially hated that he couldn’t like you openly. Not with you thinking it was fake.  

Lando looked down back at his watch. He sighed, leg beginning to shake out of impatience. 

You raised a brow. Naturally, you put a hand on his arm. “Lando... is everything okay?” 

Lando flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He moved his arm from your grasp, grabbing your hand instead. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he stated.  

Your eyes widened as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “W-What? Lan–we’re supposed to leave in thirty minutes,” you murmured quietly, leaving only him to hear your voice.  

“I don’t care,” he started, increasing his walking pace. “Whatever you do... just hold on to me, okay?” 

You furrowed your brows. “Lando, what are-” 

Abruptly Lando paused in his steps. He turned to you, blue eyes staring hard back at you. “Do you trust me?” 

“I–” 

“Do you trust me? Yes, or no?” He repeated softly. 

You gulped nervously, unable to look away from him. “Yes.” 

A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Good. Then hold on. And don’t let go.” 

“Lando, I still don’t get what you–MEAN!” You yelped as Lando began running in no particular direction. You tightened your grasp on his hand while your legs struggled to catch up to him. The problems of having an athlete boyfriend.  

The wind felt serene. The sun was oddly warm despite it being the winter season. It was as though spring was trying to come a little early. All the early architecture you had seen on the way here was beginning to blur into one uniform colour. You weren’t sure where you were going or why but all you knew was that you were going way too fast.  

“Lando! I swear to God, if you get us killed–” 

“You said you trusted me,” Lando yelled back, cautiously looking over his shoulder. He could see the paparazzi struggling to follow the both of you.  

You panted, pushing your legs to keep up. “I do! Breaking into a sprint all of a sudden with no idea in mind, however, begs a slightly different answer.” 

Lando couldn’t help but laugh over the air and God, did you love it. You had heard of people saying that a laugh could sound like music to one’s ears. You never understood it. It was a laugh. A reaction. How could it be musical? But in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t just the laugh. It required the context, the smile, the thought... and only then did it become an orchestrated musical masterpiece.  

Another yelp left your mouth as Lando pulled you to the side, situating yourselves in an empty shaded alleyway. You rested your back as comfortably as you could against the stone while Lando stood in front of you, hand still wrapped around yours.  

You both waited quietly. Turning your head slightly, you could see a small flock of black clothed paparazzi walk by, all ushering and yelling, mystified to how you both had disappeared.  

“Okay,” you swallowed hard, turning back to Lando. “I think they’re...” You seem to have lost your ability to speak as you found Lando staring at you. It had been a common occurrence within the past few months and it never got any easier. “They’re gone,” you confirmed, chest heaving.  

“You should probably start joining me on my workouts,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over you again, absorbing the sight of the thin sheet of sweat across your skin.  

You narrowed your eyes, moving your hand from his grasp to hit him with the side of your bag. A groan fell from his lips. “Ow!” He yelled, making you clasp a hand over his mouth. Your head darted to the side, checking whether anyone heard him.  

“What was that for?” He queried after you removed your hand from his mouth.  

“For being an asshole. And for making me run. Which reminds me... why did you make us run?” You queried with a more than unhappy tone.  

Lando grinned. “We still have one thing on your list to do.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t add anything else.” 

Lando’s hand rummaged through the pocket of his shorts, taking out a familiar piece of paper – the very one you had written all your activities on. And right at the bottom was an activity you thought you tore off.  

Your eyes widened, hand darting out to grab the piece of paper but Lando was too quick. “Nuh-uh,” he tutted, holding the paper close to him. “I’m getting this framed.” 

You skin burned at his words. You clearly remembered what you wrote.  

Walk the Monza track with Lando (and preferably some gelato). 

“I was supposed to take that off,” you mumbled.  

Lando frowned. “You don’t want to do it? Or did you not want to do it with me?” 

You blinked blankly at Lando. “Are you stupid? Did you read the same thing I did? Obviously with you. I just... we’ll probably get mobbed so it’s a stupid idea.” 

Lando understood what you meant. Visiting in Italy for two days now had proven to be incredibly difficult with a fan asking for a photo every other minute. He was appreciative that you were so understanding but he felt awful. 

“Yeah... I mean it would be crazy if you had a boyfriend who could rent out the entire track for a couple of hours,” Lando yawned, stretching his arms nonchalantly.  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see your mouth fall open. “Lando... you didn’t.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand once again. “I did. Now come on. We’re going to be late!”  

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You blinked blankly once you arrived to the empty Monza track. You had preoccupied yourself in the car ride here, pointing out all the interesting things you were seeing as Lando drove to the track. You were going to fall asleep if you hadn’t arrived there any earlier. But now that you were... you didn’t think your eyes could get any wider.  

“Is that a...” You turned to Lando with twinkling eyes.  

“Just go pick your flavour,” he narrowed his eyes.  

A squeal fell from your lips and before you knew it, you were hugging Lando tightly. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, happily accepting your hug. “Thank you,” you murmured next to his ear.  

Lando smiled calmly despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was sure he could stay like this forever if he could. “You’re welcome. I... It’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all I could think to do given the... circumstances.”  

You stared at the pavement of the track heavily, Lando’s words swirling around your head. Right... the circumstances. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him even though you could’ve sworn you felt him tighten his grasp momentarily.  

“Come on. Pick your flavour or I’m just going to get you all chocolate,” you called out, waking over to the gelato cart he had hired. 

Lando sighed, briefly making a disgusted expression. He followed after you with a small smile. Despite the wind, he could still smell you on him.  

You greeted the cart owner, excitedly eyeing all the gelato flavours. There were so many to choose from... how were you ever going to pick? “Can I get...” 

“She’ll get mango, chocolate, raspberry, and lemon in a cup,” Lando finished, hovering behind you.  

You gaped, snapping your head to Lando. “How did you know?” 

“Better question is,” Lando started, resting his mouth right above your shoulder and near your ear, “why wouldn’t I?” 

You shivered at his words, cheeks burning at the small grin playing on his lips. “I’m not sharing any of mine,” you muttered, moving your eyes to the gelato.  

Lando pouted teasingly. “Please,” he sung, tilting his head so you could see him blink his eyes rapidly. 

You gulped, taking a step away before you succumbed to his wishes. “I think I’m going to throw up.” 

Lando gasped. “So rude!” 

You chuckled taking the cup of gelato while thanking the owner. Lando narrowed his eyes at you, ordering his own combination of pistachio, melon, and orange.  

You made a face at his cup as he walked towards you. “There is something so wrong with you.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, nudging you forwards to the entrance of the track. “Just be quiet and walk.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You and Lando walked comfortably at your own pace around the track, eating your gelato while he explained parts of the track or its history.  

“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, finishing your spoonful of raspberry, “Curva Parabolica makes me feel sick. Every time it came on the TV, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Lando raised a brow, resting his spoon in his cup. “I thought you didn’t watch them?” 

It was always Lando’s assumption you didn’t watch the races. Even when you came to them, if there was a camera, you’d flash a smile, otherwise there was no other reason to be there. You were at the podiums because you had to be, not because you wanted to be. 

You snorted, looking at him incredulously. “Of course, I watch them. Why wouldn’t I? You’re freaking racing! I’m always so proud of you, no matter where or how you finish. You don’t see me next your mum and dad, cheering you on at the end of the race?” 

Of course he did. You were the first person he would look for at a race. And if you weren’t there, he’d look at the camera in hopes you were watching. And all this time... you had been.  

Lando’s mouth dried. “I just thought...” 

You looked at his face and you could read his mind. “You thought it was fake.” 

He blinked, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he apologised.  

You took a spoonful of your mango gelato and eyeing his mournful expression. “It’s okay. If there’s one thing you should know, my proudness and happiness for you isn’t fake. Even if this whole thing is.” 

And there it was again. The bitter reminder that this entire relationship was fake. That perhaps the only real thing in your relationship was how you met.  

But this was real. 

This – the track, the gelato, the conversation – this was real.  

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, moving his eyes to the rest of the track as he ate large soon of his melon gelato. He exhaled slowly, trying to remember where he was once again. “Okay... pop quiz! Who was Variante Ascari named after?” 

You cleared your throat, pulling on a thoughtful expression. “Um Al.. Alberto Ascari? The Italian driver, right?” 

“Thank God someone’s been paying attention,” he joked as you neared the named turn.  

You rolled your eyes. “I should thank Fewtrell for that one. Remember that stream he made us join?” 

“Yeah,” Lando laughed softly, all the memories hitting him at once. It was really sweet of Max actually. It was a time when some ‘fans’ were being particularly awful to you. Saying you were using Lando for fame because you barely knew anything about the sport.  

Max then created a poorly made quiz about Formula 1 and got you and Lando to join. Max and Lando pretended not to know much so you were all in the same boat. And any time the right answer was mention, Lando would occasionally squeeze your leg to give you a clue. The stream was flooded with some of the kindest comments, telling you to ignore everyone else and just focus on your health and your relationship with Lando.  

It was one of the moments where you realised how good of a friend Max was. Lando was lucky to have someone who cared for him that much.  

Lando looked down at his cup and let out a dramatic sigh. 

You didn’t even need to bat an eye towards. “I told you I'm not sharing,” you reminded, quickening your pace.  

It didn’t take long for him to catch up. “Please, please. I can see you have like two spoons of mango and lemon. Come on. Sharing is caring.” 

“No–Lando! Stop following me!”  

All of a sudden, you and Lando were running again. But this time, you weren’t worried about some paparazzi or the destination. It was just you and Lando.  

“No offense, but you are not outrunning me,” Lando called out from behind you, running with what you were pretty sure was a smug grin. 

You huffed, trying to push your legs further but you could feel him hovering. You came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. I can’t outrun you,” you smiled, turning to him. “But I can out-eat you.” 

Lando’s grin dropped as you combined the two flavours of gelato and plopped them in your mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded while you happily ate the rest.  

You replicated his smug grin from earlier and poked your tongue out. “All finished. Sorry,” you shrugged with no sound of an apology hidden in your voice.  

Lando swallowed hard, eyes fixated on your mouth. A step closer to you, his body was pressed on yours. His hand travelled up your neck, the other hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.  

You inhaled slowly, hairs on your body standing straight. You tried meeting his eyes but all you could see was him focus on your lips. Instinctively, your hand fell to his arm around your waist, fastening yourself to him.  

“I... I think I can still taste it,” he said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t sure if he could even recognise himself. 

“Lando... I–we're not on the clock,” you whispered, unwilling to untangle yourself from his grasp.  

“I don’t care.” 

In the blink of an eye, Lando’s lips were smashed against yours and fuck, his lips were soft and pillowy as usual. Your stomach churned upon feeling Lando pushing you closer to him, if that were possible. His fingers were cold against your skin, creeping under the hem of your shirt to rub tingling circles onto your skin.  

A breathy gasp fell from your lips while goosebumps littered your skin. Lando took advantage of this, groaning against your lips as he darted his tongue to explore your mouth. He could feel himself press into you, rubbing his hard-on against you.  

You think now would be an appropriate time to self-implode. You had all the signs. Burning skin, dizziness, and the lost ability to breathe. 

Lando almost buckled under your touch as your fingers scoured his taut torso, lingering dangerously close to his v-line. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. His hands had found themselves holding yours, preventing you from undoing him any further. His chest heaved, rising up and down while he stared at your swollen lips and moved his eyes to meet yours.  

“I want this to be real,” he pleaded, moving your hand to his face. “Please.” 

“Lando,” you started but he didn’t want to hear it.  

He shook his head. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been since we first met,” he sighed out, collecting himself. “I don’t want to do this when it’s fake. I want to be with you because what I feel is real. Because you drive me crazy and I can’t imagine a future without you.” 

You blinked, feeling his hand trail over yours as you caressed his face. Your heart raced loudly in your ears. How were you supposed to respond to that? “I...” 

“Please say something. Anything,” he begged, blue eyes heavily staring down at you. 

“As long as you promise to walk with me on every track. Oh, and get me gelato.” 

Lando let out the biggest sigh of relief, almost collapsing against your hand. His head dipped down, pressing his lips against you once again, taking you into a long kiss. He sighed, pulling away.  

His arms fell around your waist as he grinned at you. “I promise.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑