#again there’s probably more i don’t remember

[ha-rinrin]

Echos of Laughter

Summary: You and Jinx are joking around when an annoyed Isha appears, demanding some peace so she can sleep.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 963

Authors note: Hey guys. This was a request, but I accidentally lost it 😭. It was basically what I summarized here. If you're the person who requested it, I'm so sorry I lost your request 😔. I really hope you like how it turned out! 🤞🏻

Masterlist

The hideout was as chaotic as ever. Scattered piles of old crates, mismatched furniture, and bits of scrap metal filled the space, yet it felt oddly cozy. The flickering light from a few scattered lamps cast shadows across the room, the air thick with a mix of dust and the faint smell of burnt gunpowder from Jinx's latest "project."

You and Jinx were stretched out on a large, slightly lumpy couch, the kind of couch that had probably seen better days but was still perfectly comfortable in the midst of all the madness. Jinx, curled up next to you, was having trouble settling down — her fingers tapping restlessly on your arm, her usual buzz of energy refusing to let her fall asleep.

Jinx shifted closer, her fingers tapping a playful rhythm on your arm. You felt her gaze on you, even before her hand sneaked up to poke your cheek.

“Poke,” she whispered with a grin, leaning in so close her breath tickled your skin.

“Jinx,” you groaned softly, swatting her hand away, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a smile.

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re all serious now,” she teased, tilting her head dramatically. “You’re just as much fun as me. Admit it.”

“Fun?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Who got stuck upside down in the ventilation shaft last week because she thought it was a ‘shortcut’?”

“That was a calculated risk!” Jinx shot back, feigning offense, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Besides, I got out, didn’t I?”

“Not without my help,” you quipped, smirking as you remembered the chaos.

Jinx pouted for all of two seconds before she launched her next attack—tickling your sides. You let out a yelp, twisting away from her as you tried to escape her hands.

“Jinx! Stop!” you gasped between laughter, your attempts to push her off only encouraging her more.

“Nope!” she declared triumphantly, straddling your legs to keep you pinned. “This is revenge for all those times you didn’t laugh at my jokes.”

“I always laugh at your jokes!” you argued, still squirming as she grinned down at you, victorious.

“Hmm, debatable,”

Your laughter filled the hideout, echoing off the metal walls and mismatched furniture. Jinx’s grin widened as she leaned closer, her fingers still poised for another tickling attack.

“Shh!” she hissed, though she was laughing herself. “You’re gonna wake up Isha!”

Before you could respond, Jinx's hand shot out, covering your mouth with her palm, silencing you instantly. You tried to push her hand away, but the laughter still bubbled up from your chest, making it impossible to stay quiet.

“Jinx, stop!” you mumbled, unable to fully protest with her hand over your lips.

She grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with playful victory. “Not my fault you’re so loud when you laugh,” she teased, still not letting go.

“Then stop tickling me!” you managed between gasps, trying and failing to push her off.

Jinx froze dramatically, her hands hovering mid-air as she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? You’re the one with the loudest laugh ever.”

“You’re the one who started this!” you shot back, breathless but smiling.

She smirked, tapping a finger to her chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm, fair point. But…” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m not done yet!”

“Don’t you dare—”

But before you could finish, she pounced again, her hands finding their way back to your sides, and you dissolved into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

You froze mid-laugh, your gaze catching movement from the corner of your eye. There, standing just outside her little tent, was Isha. She was clad in her adorable mismatched pajamas, complete with tiny rocket ships and moons, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. Her expression, however, was anything but cute. With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, she stared you both down, her entire posture screaming, Let me sleep.

Jinx followed your gaze and immediately burst into a wide grin. “Oh no,” she whispered theatrically, nudging you. “We’ve been caught by the sleep police.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh again as Isha’s glare intensified. Despite her silence, the message was clear. She tapped her wrist dramatically, as if pointing to an invisible watch, then raised a brow at Jinx.

“What?” Jinx said innocently, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “It’s not even that late!”

Isha tilted her head, her expression unimpressed, before dramatically pointing at her tent and then miming covering her ears. You could almost hear her saying, You’re loud, and I can’t sleep.

You stifled a giggle, whispering, “We should probably let her rest.”

Jinx, never one to back down, leaned closer to you and whispered back, “But she’s just so cute when she’s mad. Look at her little pajamas!”

You nudged Jinx in the ribs, trying to hold back your own laughter. “Jinx, stop.”

Isha, catching Jinx’s teasing expression, rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration before throwing her hands up and stomping back into her tent. The little door flap swayed dramatically behind her as she disappeared inside.

Jinx let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “oof. Someone’s got an attitude tonight.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered, shooting her a pointed look.

Jinx grinned sheepishly before flopping back onto the couch beside you. “Okay, okay, no more tickling. For now.”

You sighed, settling back into the cushions as the hideout fell quiet again. “Good. Let’s try to get some sleep before Isha really loses it.”

Jinx snorted softly, curling up next to you. “She loves us. She can’t stay mad forever.”

You glanced at the tent flap, still swaying slightly, and shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, her grin audible in her voice as she snuggled closer.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Being in Rafe’s truck again is like being thrown back into a bad dream you can’t wake up from. You remember every detail from that night, the smell of bleach, the ache in your bones.

He parked by the edge of the country club lot, and as he settles in his seat and shuts the door, he wraps both of you in privacy behind his tinted windows.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice cutting through the tension. Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. He seems nervous, a contradiction to the smugness you’ve gotten used to.

“You were right,” he admits. “Cops aren’t even sniffing around yet and people think it was me.”

You meet his eyes, the blue hue bright and striking. The night it happened, you’d only seen him through the dark. Now, in the daylight, he almost looks innocent. But then you remember the loudness of the gun and how angry he looked when he fired it.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Last night,” he begins, “a few of us were hanging out and people were talking about how something might’ve happened to him. This guy had his name in my mouth… said some shit about how they should probably ask me.”

You nod slowly, taking his words in. You expected as much. As someone who openly hated Porter, Rafe’s likely at the top of everyone’s list of suspects.

“What’d you do?” you say.

“I swung at him.”

You exhale defeatedly, looking up at the ceiling of his car. He’s such a loose cannon that for the first time since that night, you worry that he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.

“Damn it, Rafe,” you complain. “And you were giving me shit for being obvious?”

His temper flares like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline.

“I’m not gonna sit there and let some asshole say that shit about me,” he mutters. “This is why we need to have our story straight, alright? If you even think about ratting me out, you’ll regret it.”

You tense up. So, this is why he so desperately needed to talk to you. You can’t believe you thought you could find any comfort in him.

“You don’t need to threaten me,” you say sharply. Rafe is taken aback by the confusion on your face. You look like you’d never even considered selling him out. But maybe you’re just a great liar.

“We said we’re in this together,” you continue. “Neither of us leaves the other, no matter how messy it gets. That’s the whole point of being each other’s alibis.”

Rafe sucks his teeth. You realize just how on edge he is about this. He was so comfortable the night it happened. Almost careless. Irritated at how anxious you were. Now, it’s like he’s spiraling.

“I won’t let this ruin my life,” Rafe mumbles. He huffs an unamused chuckle, looking out of the driver’s side window. “I’m not going to jail. I’m not…”

He trails into silence. You stare at his profile. The coldness you’ve always seen in him has been shadowed by a deep paranoia.

“I’m freaked out, too,” you admit. He looks at you again. “But this is only going to work if we trust each other. We need to stick to our story so well that even we start to believe it.”

He tilts his head, looking at you with skepticism, a wrinkle between his brows.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about screwing me over, Pogue,” he says. “You could say I did it and scared you into staying quiet.”

“Are you that paranoid?” you ask. “I won’t go behind your back. I promise. Even if it’s just a cover-up, we need to act like we’re friends now.”

Rafe gives you a once-over, the hardness in his face slowly fading.

“And don’t call me that,” you say. “You know my name.”

He breathes a real chuckle this time. Despite your better judgement, your heart flutters now that you’ve earned a smile from him.

“You’ll take it to the grave?” he murmurs.

“I will. You, too?”

“Yeah,” he says. He studies you again, realizing that you don’t have a guilty conscience at all. “You really don’t regret it.”

“No,” you state. The agony of reliving what Porter did to you hurts more than any sort of remorse you feel for taking his life.

Rafe is surprised to hear you don’t wish you could take what you did back. You’re as cold-blooded as he is. You might be the only person who comes close to understanding what it’s like being controlled by anger this intense.

“I just hate how I can’t stop thinking about if we left any evidence,” you say.

“Yeah.” He settles back, adjusting in his seat with ease, the tension between you dissipating. “We were rushed.”

You nod as you chew on your lip.

“At least nobody saw us,” you say. “And if the cops check our phones, they won’t find anything.”

“Good thinking to turn them off.”

Your face creases in surprise.

“What?” he says.

“Just throws me off when you’re not an asshole.”

He scoffs, his jaw tensing. But beneath the irritation, he wishes he could undo the way he’d spoken to you when you first got in the car.

It’s like his mind is speaking a different language to him when he feels any sort of shame. He usually tries to shut it up. When he looks at you again, he decides not to.

“I didn’t mean to… threaten you,” Rafe mumbles.

“Yeah, you did,” you say with a humorless laugh. “But I’m on your side here. Don’t forget that.”

You check your phone. You have plans to hang out with the guys after work and after what you put them through a few nights ago, you’d rather not leave them hanging again.

“I should go,” you say. “My friends are waiting on me.”

“Did you tell them the truth?”

“No,” you say. “This stays between you and me only. Trust me.”

Rafe stares at you, longer than he ever has before. It’s not anger in his face. Not worry, either. It’s something new. Vulnerability.

“I don’t trust anybody,” he says.

Your lips twitch into a frown. Even though this is a man who’s relentlessly teased you for your place in the classist system he seems to worship, your heart twinges in sympathy.

“Nobody?” you ask quietly.

He looks out the window again, tense and distant. He doesn’t say anything else.

“I have your back,” you reiterate to him. “To the grave, right?”

“Yeah,” he offers, not looking at you again. You exit his car, the confusing knot in your chest only tighter now.

·········

The police start knocking on doors a day later. When they come to yours, you do your best impression of a clueless nobody who just wants to help.

The lead on the case introduces himself as Detective Brading, settling in your living room like he’s been here before. He’s so confident that it’s intimidating. You can imagine Porter’s wealthy family are doing everything they can to find out what happened. The man staring at you is likely the best of the best.

You’ve rehearsed your story so many times that it feels natural. The two men nod along as you lie to them about how you’d fallen asleep in the bedroom, how you’d woken up to him and Rafe arguing, how you convinced Rafe to leave with you.

Your parents stand close by, arms crossed. This is the most they’ve heard you speak in a long time. They hardly ever ask you anything about your life, so it feels odd to have their attention.

“We think you two might have been the last people to see him before he went missing,” Brading tells you. “Porter didn’t say anything about going anywhere?”

“No,” you answer. “Rafe and I left pretty quickly.”

The detective looks up at your parents with raised brows, asking them to give you a moment. When they leave, he leans a little closer.

“We know he dealt drugs,” he murmurs. “And we know you bought from him. We’re not interested in getting anyone in trouble for that. We just want to know what happened to Porter. Is there anything you didn’t mention about that night in front of your parents? Be honest.”

“I fell asleep because I smoked too much pot,” you say quietly, looking back through the doorway your parents left through. It’s taking everything in you not to cry as you think about why you really lost consciousness in that room. “But I only ever bought that from him. He offered other things. Like cocaine. It’s why he and Rafe argued.”

It’s what you agreed on saying, but it still feels like you’re selling Rafe out. It’d be suspicious if you didn’t tell them this version of the truth, though.

The detective nods, clearly having been told this already. Your chest twists in unease as you think about Rafe’s name in everyone’s mouth, leading the cops to him. And possibly to you.

“How close are you to Rafe?”

“We've been talking more since I started my job at the country club,” you say. “We started hanging out a little bit ago. We’re friends.”

“Do you think he would’ve done anything to Porter?” Brading asks.

You meet his eyes, swallowing hard.

“No,” you say resolutely. “I don’t.”

·········

A man is missing and possibly, at this point, presumed dead. But that doesn’t stop Kooks from wanting to party.

You’re in the passenger seat as JJ drives to the north side of the island while John B and Pope talk in the back. You’re gazing out the window, watching the landscape go from dilapidated front yards to gated communities.

You’re heading to a party that you heard about from one of Porter’s friends and the way the police questioned you earlier today is spinning in your head.

“You good?” JJ asks.

You look over at your friend, flattening your lips together. You can never tell the whole truth, but you can offer bits and pieces.

“The cops told me they think I’m the last person who saw Porter before he disappeared,” you say. You can’t bring yourself to tell them the version of the story that includes Rafe yet. They’d never believe you. They’d judge you. “It’s kind of scary to think about.”

“My money’s on that he went on a bender,” JJ says. “Sampled his own product. Maybe even too much of it.”

“You think he overdosed?” you ask.

“More like Rafe offed him,” Pope chimes in.

“Is that what people are saying?” you ask, blood cold, turning back to look at him.

“It’s what I’m saying,” he answers. “The guy’s unhinged.”

You want to defend Rafe. To say he wouldn’t go that far. But it’d be suspicious. And a complete lie.

“It’s a small island,” John B says. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out what happened.”

You hope that’s not true.

·········

You make it to the house, reminding yourself over and over that you have to live as if you believe your own lie. You want to erase that night from your memory. Erase what Porter did to you.

You chug the first drink you can get your hands on. Your friends rib you for how quickly you down it. You blame it on a rough day at work.

Soon after, you’re at the keg, not even close to buzzed yet, but desperately needing to be. Discussing Porter with the cops today, pretending like he was just a dealer you had a few short conversations with, hearing that his family is concerned for his wellbeing made your pulse spike.

Does his family know what a monster he is?

You have to correct yourself.

Was.

“Slow down,” you hear.

Rafe towers over you, his eyes on your cup.

“What?” you shout over the music and conversations surrounding you.

“You’re on your second drink already.”

You look over your shoulder to make sure your friends don’t see you talking with him.

“I don’t even feel anything,” you reply sharply.

It’s a half-truth. Your sadness and anger are weighing heavy on your soul. That vile man took away your power, but you took it back, so you hate that you’re still so rattled by what he did. You just want peace.

“And why are you keeping tabs on me?” you ask.

Rafe stares at you, his lips just slightly parted. He can lie and say he wants to make sure you’re not setting yourself up to get hammered and potentially admit to someone what you did.

But the truth is he can’t stop thinking about you. And he doesn’t like seeing that look on your face, sad and absentminded.

He knows you hate him. He wishes he could hate you back.

“I need to be sure you’re not a liability,” he lies. “And people think we’re friends now, don’t they?”

You look over your shoulder again, anxious the guys will see you. You need privacy if you’re going to continue this conversation.

“Come on,” you say, dipping your hand in his, dragging him through the crowd. His palm is warm and soft and you don’t know what you were expecting, but the way Rafe feels is the opposite of it.

You open the first door you see, stepping into a narrow closet. You shut the door and switch on a light and suddenly he’s standing right over you, all breadth and intimidation.

Your heart races from the way you’d just touched him, from the way he’s just about pressed up against you right now. Something must be short-circuiting in your brain, because the fear you used to hold for him is entirely gone.

The attraction you’ve always felt is overpowering now. You can’t make sense of your own emotions.

“I haven’t told my friends our story,” you confess.

“What?” Rafe snips, his tone low.

“I can’t handle telling them right now, okay?” you say. You cross your arms. “I just said I was with a guy. Telling them that guy was you is… They’ll be so disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed,” he repeats with a scoff.

“Rafe, think back to every encounter you’ve had with us. All you’ve ever done is insult us. I don’t even want to think about how hurt they’ll be to hear I’m friends with you.”

“Who gives a fuck?” he mutters. “We need to make sure our alibi is solid. If the cops find out your friends don’t know we–”

“I’d tell the truth,” you say. “That I was worried about what they’d think.”

“I can’t believe you.” The thought of you being concerned about someone else’s opinion is ridiculous. “Why do you care so much?”

“They’re the only family I have,” you admit. It comes out before you even realize it. You look down, sighing. “You don’t get it. You’re like… an enemy to us. They know how shitty you treat me when I’m at work. Telling them–“

“How the hell do I treat you shitty?” he interrupts.

“I know that those tips are all a degrading show of how you’re so much richer and better than me,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then? Charity?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring. Charity isn’t the right word. He hides behind a forced ego, but he’s always wanted you. And through excessive tips and constant teasing, at least he can talk to you without risking the chance of you rejecting him.

You have him all wrong. He doesn’t think he’s better than you. He’s afraid you’re better than him.

“I’ll tell my friends, okay?” you say when he doesn’t speak. “But I talked to the cops today and they seemed convinced. We’ll be fine.”

“They talked to me, too. I can tell they think it was me.” There’s an almost imperceptible tremble in Rafe's voice. “Everyone thinks it was me.”

“Even your friends?”

“Yeah,” he says. If he can even call them friends. Hearing you call yours family made his jealousy flare. Envy is all Rafe ever feels. Like he’s missing the one thing that deems everyone else loveable.

But he’s hanging on how you said they’re your only family. He doesn’t have a family, either. Not really. Not one that cares about him. Maybe you understand him more than he thought.

“Well…” You clear your throat. “They can believe what they want. You can trust me that I won’t ever tell anyone what really happened.”

“Why?” he finally asks. “Why not just snitch on me, Pogue?”

“Because that night, I told you to do it and you did. The world is a better place without him in it. You did me a favor.” You uncross your arms. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

Rafe clears his throat, giving in, remembering how you’d saved his life and offering a quiet sorry before he says your name.

It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him. It’s a shock to your system. You search his blue eyes in the dim of the closet as if you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make a snide joke.

But he doesn’t. He just stares at you, his breaths shallow, and you rethink everything you thought you knew about him.

He’s violent and aggressive and condescending. But you don’t see that right now. You see a man who doesn’t seem to be able to believe that someone would want to protect him. Is that who he is behind all the bravado?

The world continues to turn on the other side of the door, music blasting, bass rattling, but time has stopped between you. He’s looking at you through low lids. Like he wants you.

You shouldn’t. Shit is already complicated enough. But what’s one more tangle in the string tying you together?

Your fingers are at the collar of his button-up, pulling him towards you, lips meeting with abandon.

Rafe kisses you back immediately, hungrily leaning into you, cupping your face. His heart is racing. He doesn’t know how or why this is happening, but he wants it so bad that it hurts.

Your mouths part and finally, you taste him against your tongue. It feels so right, like you were always meant to do this and were both too stubborn to.

His hands press tighter against your jaw. Fear floods you. You’re back in that bedroom. You pull back.

“Not so hard,” you say.

“Okay,” he whispers, his grip loosening. He stays hovering over you, nose nudging yours. “Just… please…”

You nod, tilting your head to kiss him again, his hunger for you palpable. You’re with Rafe again, not in that bedroom, but here with a man you want who listens to your wishes.

Your head is swimming with bliss as he kisses you, smelling like cologne and desire, every piece of you wanting him. Then, his hands drift down over the curves of your hips, pulling you flush against him.

And it’s too much. You’re back there again. Begging for it to stop.

“No,” you snap, both hands roughly pushing his chest.

Rafe hits the shelves behind him, his head radiating in pain from how hard he smacked against the wood.

“What the fuck?” he mutters. He was just living in a dream. Why the hell are you pulling him out of it?

“No,” you repeat breathlessly. “You can’t touch me like that.”

“Okay,” he groans. “I won’t. Jesus.”

He clutches the back of his head, wincing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your throat raw. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

“Why’d you even kiss me?” he says. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. You step towards him, trying to meet his eyes. “You can’t… I need you to ask before you touch me like that.”

His lips are glossy from the kiss, his face pinched in pain. You take a risk, gently placing your hands on his cheeks.

Rafe should be angry at you. But goddamn it, your touch feels so good that he melts. His gaze is heavy on yours, both of you breathing deeply, coming down from the sudden outburst.

“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat softly. “Just don’t take me by surprise. I can’t handle it.”

Rafe searches your face, silently asking for an explanation.

You shake your head, not having it in you to answer right now. Your goal tonight was to forget. Not relive. You pull him closer, and thankfully, he lets you.

Your lips are tender after you part, having lost count of how long you’ve been kissing.

Things just got so much more complicated. But you wouldn’t take it back. Not for a second. Nothing else makes sense right now, but having Rafe the way you always secretly wanted him is the one thing that does.

“Don’t fuck me over,” he says, a note of cynicism in his tone as his forehead brushes against yours. “No matter what happens, don’t fuck me over.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

·········

The next morning, you’re walking through the club hall towards the golf course to start your shift. You still can’t get the way Rafe’s mouth felt against yours out of your mind.

He kissed you like he’s been waiting to kiss you for ages. Like he felt lucky that he got to.

You’re about to step through the glass doors leading outside, but the sound of your name makes ice go through your veins. You know that gravelly voice.

You turn to see Detective Brading, his stare intimidating.

“You have a minute to talk?” he says.

You can tell by his tone that it isn’t a question.

to be continued

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[daisymbin]

Hi!!

Can you please write a drabble for jeonghan using the fluff prompts #23 and #39?

hi love!! I'm sorry again, my mistake 😓 if I had checked my ask earlier that I could ask which prompt so you don't have to wait so long 😢 hopefully this slightly longer fic makes up for it!!!! thank you for waiting 😽🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

fluff prompt #23: "you stayed up all night taking care of me?" +

fluff prompt #39: "you talk about me in your sleep, you know?"

jeonghan woke up to the soft hum of sunlight filtering through his blinds and the faint rustle of movement nearby. his head throbbed, his mouth felt like cotton, and the events of the previous night were a blur. blinking against the bright light, he groaned and shifted slightly, immediately regretting the motion as nausea crept in.

“you’re awake,” a familiar voice said, cutting through the fog in his brain.

he turned his head toward you, sitting in his desk chair with your arms crossed, looking both relieved and annoyed. your hair was slightly disheveled, and your tired eyes met his.

“morning,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “what happened?”

you raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “you got drunk. like, really drunk. i had to bring you home because you kept whining that you felt sick.”

he winced, his memory offering little more than flashes of the night. “oh.”

you stood up, walking over to his bedside with a glass of water and some painkillers. “and then you wouldn’t stop complaining, so i stayed up to make sure you didn’t choke on your own stupidity.”

“you stayed up all night taking care of me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something he wasn’t sure he wanted to unpack.

“someone had to,” you replied, handing him the glass. your tone was matter-of-fact, but the way your eyes lingered on him, soft and full of concern, made his chest feel strange.

he sipped the water, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped. “did i… do anything embarrassing?”

you leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. “oh, plenty. but my favorite part was when you started talking in your sleep.”

jeonghan froze, his hand hovering mid-air. “what?”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah, you talk about me in your sleep, you know?”

his heart skipped a beat. “what did i say?”

your smirk widened. “you don’t remember?”

“obviously not!” he shot back, feeling his face heat up.

you tilted your head, pretending to think. “hmm… let’s see. you said my name a lot, for one. i lost count after the fifth time.”

his stomach flipped. “just your name?”

you leaned forward, your grin turning teasing. “oh, no. you said other things, too.”

jeonghan groaned, covering his face with his hands. “what kind of things?"

last night

you had just managed to guide jeonghan into his bed, his arm slung heavily over your shoulders as he half-stumbled, half-leaned on you. “come on, jeonghan. you’re almost there,” you huffed, trying to keep him upright.

“you’re so strong,” he mumbled, his words slurring. “like… really strong. you could probably carry me, huh?”

“i’m already carrying most of your weight,” you muttered under your breath, ignoring the way his words made your cheeks warm.

as soon as his head hit the pillow, jeonghan let out a long sigh. you thought he’d drift off immediately, but instead, he mumbled, “you’re so nice to me. always so nice.”

you froze, hovering by the edge of his bed.

“you smell nice, too,” he added, his voice muffled by the pillow. “like… flowers or something. but not too strong. it’s just… perfect.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you slowly lowered yourself into the desk chair, unsure if he was fully asleep or just delirious.

“wish i could tell you,” he mumbled, his voice so soft you almost missed it. “wish i could say how much i…” he trailed off, his breathing evening out as he falls asleep.

you thought he was done for the night, but then, an hour later, he added, “want to take you out sometime. somewhere nice. you deserve that. wanna take angel out on date.”

angel? but that's his nickname for you...

your heart raced and ached at the vulnerability in his voice. you sat there in silence, watching his peaceful face, the weight of his words settling over you.

“you’re too good for me,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “but i’m selfish. i want you to be mine.”

[-]

“so,” jeonghan said now, dragging you back to the present, “what exactly did i say?”

you shrugged, playing it cool despite the way your heart raced. “oh, just that you think i’m nice and smell like flowers.”

he blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process your words. “i said that?”

“mmhm,” you hummed, biting back a grin.

“and…?” he prompted, clearly fishing for more.

“and you said you want to take me out sometime,” you added, your voice casual but your cheeks warm. "on a date." you added softly.

jeonghan stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. “sounds like me.”

you rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest.

he shifted closer, resting his chin on his palm, his grin playful but his voice quieter. “so, how about it? i’m free this weekend. dinner, your pick. i owe you for, you know, saving my life or whatever.”

“is this how you ask someone out?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“well, it’s not every day i find out i confessed in my sleep,” he countered, a nervous laugh slipping through. “but… you’d say yes, right?”

you faltered, his unusually earnest tone catching you off guard. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

jeonghan’s laugh was immediate, light and relieved. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

“don’t make me regret it,” you warned, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“trust me, you won’t,” he said, his confidence returning. “and for the record, i’d totally carry you to bed if the roles were reversed. just saying.”

he grinned, leaning back against the pillows with a smug expression. if his heart was racing, well, that was for him to deal with later.

“jeonghan!”

his signature smirk firmly in place. "what’s wrong? cat got your tongue, or are you just mesmerized by me again?" he teased, his voice low and honeyed as he moved closer. the confidence he exuded was disarming, but you caught the flicker of something softer in his eyes — a nervousness he couldn’t quite hide.

you rolled your eyes, though your pulse quickened as he closed the distance. "you wish," you muttered, but your breath hitched when his hand brushed against your cheek, his fingers ghosting over your skin.

“oh, i know,” jeonghan said, his grin widening. yet, as he cupped your face more firmly, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, his playful facade cracked. his throat bobbed in a swallow, and you noticed the way his eyes darted between your lips and your gaze, like he was trying to decide if he was allowed to take this leap.

“you’re awfully quiet now,” he murmured, though his voice lacked its usual bravado. “nervous?”

“are you?” you shot back, emboldened by the faint tremor in his hand.

“terrified,” he admitted, almost inaudibly, before he leaned in.

the first press of his lips against yours was tentative, a soft, testing thing that quickly gave way to something hungrier when you didn’t pull back. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his confidence returned in the way he kissed you—playful, teasing, with the occasional nip at your bottom lip that left you breathless.

you fisted the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself as the heat between you grew. his smirk returned when he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “i told you, you can’t resist me.” but his pink cheeks betrayed him, revealing just how badly he’d wanted this.

[razorblade180]

Ekko Location

Ekko:*thousand yard stare*….

Caitlyn:(Should I tell him? No, false hope doesn’t do any good. Especially in this case.) *looks left*

Giant mural of Jinx

Caitlyn:….Ekko?

Ekko:What could you possibly want after everything?

Caitlyn:Hopefully, an olive branch. I have to tell you something but you have to promise to not get your hopes up, or tell Vi. This is something I’m trusting with you specifically.

Ekko:And how in the world did I get such an honor?

Caitlyn:Because if it wasn’t for one act of kindness, I’d be in your shoes right now.

Ekko:…What do you have to tell me?

xxxxxx

One month later. Somewhere across the water, in a nice quaint land known for its view of the ocean and mountains, a cloaked girl bobs her head to music as she roams the back alleys streets without a care in her mind.

Jinx: 🎶Do you ever wanna catch me?Right now I'm feeling ignored. *turns corner*

Jinx:So can you try a little harder? I'm really getting bor-

Ekko:*cloaked* !?….

Jinx:…..(Just when I thought I’ve wrangled all the voices. This is a low blow, me.) *closes eyes* (Just gonna breathe in and-)

Ekko:*grabs her wrist*

Jinx’s eyes immediately shoot open to see him right in front of her. She starts looking back, forth, everywhere; her thoughts trying to rationalize this moment because what do you mean he’s real!?

Jinx:Y- wha- how? How!? Fuck everything else. How?

Ekko:Let’s just say someone offered me a little hope. Honestly it was more like wishful thinking.

Jinx:Ekko, that’s not a “how” at all! You left Zaun to chase wishful thinking? That’s alone is crazy, but not as crazy as you actually finding me! I could’ve gone in any direction and stopped anywhere yet somehow you’re right here searching in the correct city? Gasps Did you put something in me?!

Ekko:What? No! Jinx, we used to spend literal hours talking about all the places we wanted go; the sight ls you wanted to see. Sometimes you rambled so much I never got a word in to say mine!

Jinx:So you’re telling you just remembered all that ramble and started flying to the places I yapped about!? Who the heck remembers stuff like that!?

Ekko:Me!! Since when have I ever forgotten anything!? Especially stuff about you!?

The girl was too stunned to speak. Ekko told no lies and he had a point, however, what the hell? How was she supposed to respond to that? She told absolutely nobody that she was leaving and left no trace, yet somehow wishful thinking from probably the world’s most annoying enforcer and childhood memories was enough for Ekko to find her in a little over a month. Jinx could only squint at him in disbelief. Sure, she could definitely break free of grip and make a break for it, yet this moment only gave her the strength to exhale tiredly before him.

Jinx:Anyone else know?

Ekko:Nope. You think people have time to chase hypotheticals?

Jinx:So you just left??

Ekko:Told them I needed some air. Had to move quickly. You don’t exactly stay in one place for long.

Jinx:…..Alright. Out with it. I know you have some rehearsed lecture and rant you’ve prepared in case you actually somehow weren’t crazy and found m-

Ekko:*hugs her* I can tell at you later.

Jinx:You really just might be crazier than me.

Her entire body relaxed as she finally put her arms around him. Despite all odds, he really was right here. Leave it the Boy Savior to yet again foil her schemes.

Jinx:At this point I should call you Ekko Location or something.

Ekko:I this point, I should put a fucking bell on you.

Jinx:I’d still get away.

Ekko:And I’d find you again.

Jinx:Heh, yeah. *hugs tightly* You would, wouldn’t you?

[beabnormal24]

I don’t like to hate on people because this world is already bad enough without hate in it, so I want to specify that this is not hate against Charles but against the absurd and unbelievable and completely illogical takes people are sharing here.

1) Carlos’ Mexico win was gifted by Charles.

I’m sorry but WHAT? Pole position, leading almost EVERY lap was a gift from Charles?

This is such a creative way to disrespect your own favourite driver because you really think he would stoop so low to gift a win? Wow, interesting.

“Carlos started crying on the radio.” He said there was a problem with the lift and coast, which was much more needed than he had expected, and rightly communicated it to the engineers, the same lift and coast that Charles refused to do properly for a few laps until the gradient of temperature was too large to be easily recovered and ended up with him falling behind in times until Lando reached him and overtook him.

(Thermodynamical parenthesis: keeping the mass and the coefficients of exchange fairly constant, which we can approximate in the case of a race car that goes at the same speed and only loses a few kilos because of graining, the greater is the gradient, the greater is the driving force and therefore the corresponding force to oppose in order to overcome it, which means the greater the time to do it)

2) Carlos’ Australia win was gifted by Charles.

Wait a second, you mean that the team has the possibility to have the first 1-2 in years, the first win after Singapore, the first great success of Ferrari after a whole 2023 season where there had been a clear lack of it, and them saying to Charles “please don’t fight [and fuck everything up]” means that Charles gifted the win?

Again, how much do you respect your favourite driver?

(Racing parenthesis: Charles ended with a gap of +2.366s, I won’t add anything to this)

3) Carlos doesn’t care about the WCC

With his pit-stop call (that was not even followed by the team) there was a high probability he would’ve ended up in front of Lewis, or at the very least he would’ve had the possibility to fight for the second place, which would’ve meant at least +3 points than the ones they actually obtained, so a gap to McLaren in the Constructor Championship narrowing to 21 points and considerably more chances to actually win it in the last two races.

But, you know, it’s just mathematics, what do I know?

Edit:

4) if Ferrari wins WCC they have to thank Leclerc

Yes because Carlos did *not* win two races and he did *not* have 8 podiums, absolutely not, all the points were given by Charles what are you saying?

(Oh, and let’s also remember that Carlos could not attend one (1) of the races because he had appendicitis and then he went and won the race right after a surgical operation…)

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 2: support our son

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm still trying to figure out what app/site to make the texts on so if anyone has a good suggestion please help please i'm struggling

previous | masterlist | next

You used to come over to Jay’s place nearly every other day. But it had been two weeks, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was to the point that Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon began asking if you would ever come over again, to which Jay was forced to answer that you were probably hanging out with Huening Kai. He didn’t know your actual whereabouts most of the time, but he guessed. Which made him internally cringe every time.

What he disliked the most, however, was his incessant urge to text you whenever the smallest inconvenient thing happened in his day. He was sure you would very likely reply, but he was scared of what it would be like now that the dynamic of your relationship changed. It should probably be the same, but what if your voice over text changed because now you were seeing someone else?

Jay wasn’t fond of the idea in the slightest. Did you even really like Huening Kai? Who the fuck was he to take you away from Jay? (Yet you weren’t his to begin with.) He missed you, but he could hardly voice it out to himself, let alone you.

The day he nearly killed a man on the spot was when he saw you and Huening Kai walking side by side on campus. It wasn’t just that, actually, because the two of you were holding hands, and you were laughing about something Kai had said. It was even worse because he was clearly walking you to class — a class that you shared with Jay. So you were bound to cross paths, and no matter how hard Jay tried to slow his pace down, you still managed to notice him.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” you called him over with a smile on your face. It was brighter than he remembered, and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his brain playing tricks, or whether you were genuinely happier than he had ever seen you before. “You know Kai, right?” you asked innocently, but it only brought back Jay’s anger from the Sanctuary Café.

Heeseung just wanted to take Jay out to an open mic. Neither of them knew that it would also be the day of your first date with Huening Kai. Jay hated every second of being there, but to you, it must’ve been an unforgettable night.

“And Kai, this is Jay,” you said with a smile, pointing at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Kai stretched out his hand forward, but the gaze with which he beheld Jay told him that he knew everything about you and Jay. That you gave him every single gory detail of what had been going on before the two of you began dating, and that made Jay even more furious. Because he refused to acknowledge any other emotion he felt.

He ignored the tightness in his chest as he shook Kai’s hand with a nod. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” Jay replied, not lying, because he genuinely knew nothing about Kai besides the few pieces of gossip and what Heeseung divulged some time ago. Kai wasn’t surprised by that information at all. You hadn’t told Jay anything about him either.

“We have to get to class, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” You looked at Kai with such admiration in your eyes that Jay wanted to step between the both of you and push Kai out of the way. But he couldn’t do it. All he could do was stand and watch and constantly clench and unclench his fists.

“Yeah, of course,” Kai replied, bending down to kiss your temple, but you grabbed the collar of his band tee and brought his mouth down to your lips. Kai let out an involuntary giggle as it happened, and Jay had to abruptly turn away, incapable of not rolling his eyes.

“Bye,” you mumbled quietly, a soft smile decorating your lips.

“Band practice starts at five.”

“I know, Kai,” you laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be there. We need to support our son.”

Jay furrowed his brows, but with Kai’s knowing grin and playful roll of his eyes, neither of you was going to elaborate on what you actually mean.

Your son?

And yet that was the first thing Jay asked about once Kai was finally leaving you alone, his back turned to the two of you. “Your son? The fuck happened in the last two weeks?”

You chuckled at Jay’s confusion, an amused look brightening up your features. “Yujin’s still in high school,” you said, shaking your head. “The keyboardist. If you remember him. He’s actually just started his second year.”

“So you call him your son?”

“Yeah, he’s the whole band’s son. And mine, now.” You grinned proudly, just thinking about Yujin. “Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately, but I’m still getting used to this whole new dynamic of me having a boyfriend and all that.”

“Oh, you’re official already?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, shrugging. “What about you? Any new conquests lately? Surely, you already found someone else? Maybe you’ve already had someone on your roster, you know, that kinda stuff.” 

If Jay wasn’t too busy cringing at your words, he’d probably notice how tense your tone was, and how much you hated saying them, but he didn’t. All he heard was that you really didn’t care about him any more than a casual fuck and perhaps a somewhat close friend. 

“Nah, not really,” Jay replied anyway. “I’m actually kinda… I don’t know. Haven’t felt like doing much lately.”

“Right. So just you and Jane?” you asked teasingly.

“What?” And maybe it should’ve hit Jay instantly that you were speaking of his guitar, but instead he thought that you were suggesting he really was with somebody else already, and he did not like that. “Oh.” He realised moments later.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He nodded. Jay had to count all his small victories of today among the losses, too, however, because you were actively speaking to him finally. And not just that — you sat down next to him in class.

tags: (send an ask or comment to be added!) @moonpri @addictedtohobi

[kanyerealdaughter]

#EX BOYFRIEND

sexual content , masturbation (f,reader) , cussing , intercourse , creampie , *cum tasting a bit*

—————————————————

right now you’re currently driving to your ex boyfriend suguru house. you have no clue how to handle it to be completely honest, you never been too good with emotions but you both left on good terms and everything but you just can't stop the need you feel him one last time.

you pulled into his driveway preparing yourself to get all your stuff and leave as quickly as possible. you walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. after a few minutes he appears in the doorway, looking' sexier than ever. you were snapped out of the battle with your subconscious by his voices speaking out in a concerned tone.

" uh- you good..?"

" mhm, uh y-yeah, fine i just came to get my stuff remember." you replied weakly.

" well you're gonna come in?" he asked in his raspy voice, steppin' out of the way, letting me into his house.

you look over at the kitchen and remember all the times he fucked your from behind. so deep in you, so... rough. and the living room where he'd prop your legs up on the coffee table and eat you out. suckin on your clit…

your breathing picked up and you don't know what to do. your underwear is getting wetter by the second and you can't do anything about it... or can you? once the idea pops into your head, there's no turning back. you have to do it. you need to do it.

" um suguru can i use your bathroom?" you ask , pretending that you have to use the bathroom badly.

“ oh uh- sure. you remember where it's at right?" you nodded and headed off to the bathroom.

once you’re outta sight, you rush in, shutting and locking the door behind you. you don’t waste any time taking your jeans and underwear off. mmm you’re so wet… you don't even bother taking your shirt and bra off, you wanna make this quick.

you slowly insert your middle finger and it slides in with ease from all the wetness. you start to pump and move your hand. in and out. in and out. in...out. over and over. fuck it. you need this. you pick up speed, lifting your left leg up onto the sink for better access.

" mmm." you moan softly before putting your free fingers into your mouth to shut yourself up.

you can't be loud but it feels so good. you bite your knuckle harder in an attempt to hush yourself but it's useless. you move your hand quicker. the lightning fast speed of your fingers is amazing. you started to think of suguru. his big dick thrusting into you with quick speed. both of your skin hitting together because of his fast, hard pace.

" fuck." you muffled into your knuckles. his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. both of your moans and grunts are drowning out the others. you’re whimpering. you want to scream but you can't. you want him to fuck you so bad. you imagine him talking dirty to you even more.

" fuck, you like that i know you like it.

“ scream for me ma.." that was all it took to drive you over the edge.

" fuck yes..!"

you came all over your hand, hard. as much as you wish it were him you were cummin' for, you guess this will have to do. you clean yourself off realizing you’ve probably been in here for too long. you washed all your wetness and juices away from your hands, dried them and then went to leave.

as you opened the door, you found a very satisfied ex boyfriend suguru getting off right in front of the door. either he didn't care if you saw or he hadn't heard you come out.

whatever the case may be, you didn't care. you suddenly felt hot again. you once more felt the urge to have him inside of you again. watching him get off because of your moans from the other side of the door really turned you on. you need to feel him in you, at least one more time.

as you watched him, you could feel your juices pooling up as they did before. bitting your lip, you reach out and touch his dick. he looks up at you and you could see his once big dark purple eyes. eyes darken.

he stops and in a blink of an eye, you're pinned up against the bathroom door. with a strong large hand over your neck, his lips dive towards yours, connecting in a passionate yet lustful kiss. it was harsh and forceful, making your knees go weak. if he wasn't holding you up you would have fallen.

your hand instinctively wrapped around his hard cock, pumping in an attempt to please him. a quiet moan could be heard escaping his lips, that were molded together with yours, sending a long satisfying shiver down your spine. i need him in you now.

" i need you." you said in between kisses.

" i'm glad you said that ma i need you too my dick hard.." he said as a smile crept up on his face.

and with that he pulled his pants up and picked you up, carrying you to his room. when we reached your destination, he threw you on his bed and began stripping.

starting with his shirt, then his pants, then his boxers. you both kept eye contact as you began to get undressed with him taking off your shirt along with your push up bra.

when you both were done, he crawled up between your legs pushing you up on the bed. he once again connected your lips as he moved one of his hands to your breast. he squeezed and rolled my hard nipple earning soft moans from you.

you started to whine, letting him know that you can't wait any longer. a smirk draws across his face while he moves his hand down to my heat, collecting some of your juices on his finger, he stops kissing you and puts it in his mouth. he moaned lightly at the taste of you causing your hips to buck up at the sight.

he looked down and grabbed his dick and started rubbing it against your slit. pushing it a little to your clit, your legs shook. you’re so wet that he accidentally slid in hard, slamming into you, causing him to groan at the pleasure.

" you're still so tight fuck ma." he said in a low whisper. you moaned in response his pace started off slow but then soon quickened as his heavy breaths you felt in the crook of your neck. his thrusting grew harder. the bed creaked and rocked with his and yours movements.

" u-uh yess!." you moaned. it feels so good his grunts fill the room along with your moans.

" fuck ma you been givin my pussy..?" he whispered groaning at the end of his sentence.

you shake your no.

" words mama." he groaned.

" no o-ohh fuck." you gained the confidence too say no. he smack ass leaving a handprint thrusting into you kissing your cervix fasting into you even more making you moan.

" tell me, who does this pussy belong to?" he said while lifting my legs up by his shoulders, fucking me deeper.

(yesss kinggg lmfaooo ignore this.)

“ y-you." you barely got out in between your panting and loud moans.

" louder." he demanded.

" y-you suguru you suguru FUCKK.! u-uhh so deep..!" you ended up screaming, causing him to smirk.

" mhm." was all he said.

" fuck. f-faster." you said wanting more. his pace quickened from what it was before as all you could hear was his and yours skin slapping together.

" n-nugh!" you screamed. he was so deep and big he filled you up kissing your cervix once again

" s-shit..!" your back arched as your felt your orgasm forming.

" i-im gonna c-cum!" he stopped causing you to whimper.

" no.. fuck why suguru..?" you whined. he didn't answer but instead flipped you over to where your ass was up in the air and your back was arched. face in the comforter.

suddenly there was a sting on your ass cheek. smack. the skin on skin contact of his hand colliding with your plump ass made you moan.

" you like that." he said with a smile forming on his face.

smack another hard slap echoing throughout the room, the sound bouncing off the walls. you moaned again, this time a little louder. without warning he slammed his dick back into your soaking wet pussy making you scream at the sudden pressure.

his thrusting was quick and hard just like before. your pussy throbbed. your ass slapped against his front, reddening your cheeks smack.

" ooh fuck!"

it feels too good smack. he continued his thrusting that soon became irregular and uneven, getting even more sloppy. he was close and so was you.

" cum for me ma. cum all over my dick mamas ." you couldn't hold on anymore. your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave, but he didn't stop.

" ahh! f-fuck! fuck suguruuu!" his dick twitched inside you.

" mmm." he hummed.

“ scream my name again.” he said, his breath being just as scattered as his thrusts.

" suguru!" you screamed moaning right after.

" f-fuck ma..!" he stopped deep in you, filling you up with his hot spurts of cum. you shook and screamed into the comforter. you both stayed in that position catching your breaths for a few minutes and then he pulled out.

he cleaned up and then you both laid in his bed talking for about an hour until you finally decided to get dressed and head home. he stopped you right outside his front door by grabbing' your waist and pulling you into a kiss slapping your sensitive ass making you yelled out a yelp. he broke it off and tilted your head up to look at him looking him in his dark purple eyes.

" come back anytime you'd like and we can do this again ma." he winked at you but being all serious and then disappeared back into his house.

the drive home was silent. you didn't listen to any music, you just sat there thinking...

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - old wattpad story.. since i couldn’t think of nothing.

words - 1.8k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

okay hear me out…butch4butch Sevika where Sevika is a power bottom???👀 reader is taller and stronger than her but very shy and intimidated by her🙈

Pairing: Powerbottom!Sevika x gentle giant-service top! reader

Warnings: ns/fw, fingering, cunnilingus, grinding/dry humping, smoking, mentions of violence, and horny lesbian activityyyy

Word count: 3k

A/N: Love you. Love this. You have come to the right place for this one, my friend. The lack of butch4butch Sevika content is criminalll if that woman has a type it begins with D and ends in Y-K-E-S. Anyways, how appropriate is it that my first fic is butch4butch Sevika smut. Checks out. (that being said, it is my first fic so you freaks betta be NICE) Now without further ado…

You Have No Idea

By ButchVampireHeimerdinger

It was the slow ending to an eventful shift at the last drop. Customers were in good spirits all night, likely due to a sudden influx of Piltie goods some gang had rattled up through more or less honorable means and was making its way through town. In any case, the energy was contagious and it had you, the buff and generally even-tempered server/bouncer, doing things you didn’t normally do. Like drink on the job — just a beer you had been nursing for over forty minutes — and fraternize with patrons. Y’know, other than the obligatory how are you, do you wanna pay out now or open a tab. Real actual conversations -- which led you to number three on the list of Things You Don’t Normally Do; you were hunched over the bar playing Texas Hold ‘Em with three regulars. Two were men, you didn’t remember their names, but they always came to the bar at about this time. A package deal — they snickered in your direction as a nearby shady-looking customer walked out on his tab.

“Hey, isn’t that your cue, tough guy?” The man gave you a patronizing sort of eyebrow raise as he dealt the next round.

Technically, it was. You got hired pretty much on account of your physique — you were 6’3” and a tank, always had been. Broad shoulders, biggest girl on the playground growing up, you gained muscle at the drop of a hat. You didn’t even try. But it was all for show. You were more of a lover than a fighter. Sometime in the first few months of the job the staff discovered you were better equipped to work inside the bar. Customers liked you because you were polite, a breath of fresh air from the culture of animosity that permeated the undercity. Still, it didn’t help your ego in situations like this. ”Hey, you don’t know what she’s got under her sleeve.” The third voice at the table spoke up. The right hand of Zaun. Sevika.

She had been a regular since before you started and probably would be long after. You had heard some pretty nasty stories about her and the things she was capable of. But when she came up to your counter for a drink, she came without malintent, always respectful to the waitstaff. It was disarming. Tonight, especially, your eyes lingered over her toned shoulders and sharp collarbones.You wanted to run your hands over them, to see how her body would react. And maybe it was the house IPA you had been drinking, but probably not.

Sevika gestured toward your dwindling pile of poker chips with her chin as she looked down, analyzing her hand. “Clearly, she must be the type to play the long game.” This earned her another light fit of snickers from bar idiots one and two, but they were easily impressed. You rolled your eyes.

Sevika raised two chips. The table matched. She spoke again.

“So, tough guy, do those arms of yours get you any female attention? Since you’re obviously not using them for any other tactile purpose,” her eyes traveled to the empty seat where the tab-skipper had been sitting.

You shrugged, suddenly warm and very aware of your body and not sure where to rest your gaze. “I get around.”

For some reason, tweedles dum and dee found this hilarious, and howls of laughter followed. You slapped your hand over your heart and feigned a look of deep hurt, to mask the bit of real hurt you were feeling. Yeah, it had been a while, but surely not long enough to warrant that response.

“Is it that implausible?”

Sevika chuckled and shook her head, but her expression was good-natured.

“Just make your move, Casanova.”

You had a full house. Three aces. Two kings. You matched, and didn’t raise.

Sevika raised, the men matched, and you folded.

The table revealed their hands and Sevika won the pile with a straight. Not a bad hand, but the round would’ve been yours if you had taken the risk. Sevika clicked her tongue, scolding you, which made your palms sweat. You averted her gaze and became suddenly interested in wiping down the bar.

Following your pitiful defeat, the two guys payed out, leaving the bar empty save for you, Sevika, and a couple stragglers who always stayed until morning and probably didn’t have anywhere else to spend the night. To your surprise, the woman beckoned you over once more. Something in your heart lifted. Something in your pants dropped.

“Blackjack?” She pushed the cards toward you, and her dominant sort of gaze made you feel, once again, compelled to do what she asked.

You won the first few rounds. Sevika was risky to a fault. If it wasn’t 21 exactly, trust she would draw. And she always made you the dealer, watching your hands intently, hungrily, even, as you shuffled. The third round was a tie, but she didn’t have anything left to raise.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You win this round and I’ll spread it around that I walked out on my tab, and you chased me down and kicked my ass for it. Should prevent other situations like our friend earlier, at least for a while.”

“Are my bouncer abilities really that pathetic?” You picked at the side of your nails. Sevika’s gaze pierced through you and you found it difficult to meet her eyes. But you didn’t necessarily hate the way her eyes took you in. Slowly and deliberately, like you were a battle map and she was trying to parse out her strategy.

“And if you win?” You looked up, all innocent. Maybe you imagined it, but your doe eyes seemed to rile her up a little bit. Something in the way her jaw shifted, the way she rubbed her flesh palm on her pants.

“Already planning for defeat? See, this is exactly your problem. You’re talking through a universe where you lose before we’ve even started.” She shoved her pile towards you again.

“Deal ‘em.” She commanded, you obliged.

“I’m serious! I just wanna know what I’m agreeing to. Fools rush in, and all that.” Your voice made everything sound like a question. With her, it was. Sevika was hard to figure out.

“You’re cute. If I win, I want…” The woman took a hit of the blunt she was holding and used it to gesture, her movements creating little loops of smoke that rose and dissipated. Her eyes followed them, and not you. For once.

“I want an hour. With you. N’ those arms.” You jerked while shuffling, accidentally knocking over your beer in your surprise. You picked it up quickly, hoping she didn’t notice.

“You serious?”

“Deadly. Fuck me up, Casanova.”

She won. Wasn’t even close. Three sevens, if you could believe it. As soon as you slapped the last seven down, you both shot up from the counter at light speed and she followed you to the back.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Her voice was low and husky, but with a little something else.

“Sore winner,” was all you could think to respond. You shoved her lightly. She shoved you harder with her prosthetic arm. The two of you kept at it, pushing and shoving back and forth as you practically raced to The Last Drop’s back office. Play-fighting, like you were “one of the boys,” but it had a bit of a bite to it. Like you wanted to eat each other alive.

The office was hardly used except for the rare moments when staff wanted to crunch numbers. Or, of course, engage in extra-professional affairs like this one. That couch had seen some things. You fiddled with the key for what was apparently a moment too long.

“I’m getting bored out here, Casanova.” You looked into Sevika’s eyes through her thick brows, a couple inches below yours. You slammed your shoulder into the door and it gave way immediately, with a satisfying bang as it swung open. Sevika followed, grabbing you by the shirt as she brought your lips down to hers, hard, and kicked the door shut behind her without looking.

She dragged you toward her, her back pressed against the peeling drywall. Her tongue dragged against your bottom lip and something deep in your pelvis vibrated in anticipation. One of your hands reached up to the wall, to keep you both steady. Sevika grabbed your other hand and guided it under her tank top. You squeezed her breast, tracing over her nipple with your thumb. Your bodies pressed together and you brought your knee in between hers, rolling your hips forward and pressing your leg into her crotch. She moaned into your mouth. Like her voice, it was deep and gravelly.

You set a pace. Her hips seemed to agree with it, bucking upwards to get that friction where she needed it most. Her hands gripped your waist and hips as she started to manhandle you, making you move faster against her. Your kissing was frantic and sloppy, like there was anger behind it. Your lips shined with her spit, and you moved to kiss up and down her neck. She reacted with a throaty panting noise when you got to a sensitive spot — a fleshy and soft area where her jaw met with her neck. You twisted your head to the side and downward to get better access, to fully exploit that weakness. Without fully thinking through your actions, your sucking collapsed into biting. You drove your teeth into her neck and Sevika’s jaw shot upward as her panting became gasping. She grabbed the back of your head and pushed it harder against her neck to say what she couldn’t; more, more, more.

Your hands fumbled with her belt and she noticeably did not help you with it. It was like she got a kick out of watching you struggle. You finally got them unzipped and you reached under to start palming her through her boyshorts. She had already soaked through. Good.

You pulled away to look down at her again while tugging lightly at her waistband. You raised your eyebrows to ask, May I? Chin still tilted upward, she nodded, huffed out a “yuh” sort of noise, and hooked her leg around the back of yours to bring your chests closer, all rough.

You pulled down the panties and your fingers dipped into her folds. Sevika’s eyebrows knitted even closer together, if that was possible. You continued sucking and working that spot on her neck. Her lips were against your ear and you heard her panting grow more desperate, more melodic; whines and vocalizations mixed with the gruff and grainy rhythmic in-and-out of her breaths.

Your middle and ring finger sort of skated all around her entrance, just barely avoiding her swollen clit. You took in the sight — Sevika’s heaving chest, her eyes closed as she chased the pleasure you were giving her. Her moans grew to something not exactly desperate, that wasn’t like her, but deranged and shameless. She panted like she was breathing fire. And like she didn’t care if all of The Last Drop could hear her, even though they probably couldn’t.

The pulse of her hips grew a little more erratic and she shifted her legs like she was ready to switch positions. You gestured subtly with your head toward the couch, and she dragged you toward it.

The woman collapsed on it and rested her arms outward, elbows relaxed on top like it was a throne. She leaned as far back as she could as you helped work her pants and boyshorts all the way down until they dropped to her ankles. She pulled her shirt off with both hands, pulling it up and over from the back of the neckline. She threw the tank top to the side and all of the air left your lungs, as you took in the sight of her upper body. Where you were buff, she was cut. Unlike you, Sevika didn’t have the type of figure that was imposing simply by nature — her physique came from blood, sweat, and tears. She had the body of a bruiser, of someone who spent their life fighting. The Sevika before you made you realize why some of the patrons kept their distance. But it somehow made you want to get closer. It made you want to please her, and to be good at it.

Sevika had a manspread going and you dropped to your knees in front of her. But she wasn’t having that — not yet. With her flesh hand she grabbed you by the throat and dragged you up to her lips for another messy kiss. Your teeth clashed together and when your tongues made contact, you felt those butterflies low in your pelvis. You moaned into her mouth instinctively, and it came out higher and breathier than you expected. You felt her lips form a slight smile against yours and she released her hold on your neck, making you drop down to your knees. You were certain the impact must have shook the entire city block.

Breathing heavy, you went to start kissing and sucking at her inner thigh, but she tilted your chin upward to look at her. Breathless, she commanded,

“Take your shirt off for me, Casanova. I wanna see those arms while you… Yeah.”

You fought the smile forming and stripped for her. You took off your tank top and sports bra the same way she had — in one fluid motion, from the back. You were caught between a sudden wave of self consciousness and the urge to draw it out, to put on a show for her. You settled at maintaining eye contact as you subtly flexed for her, and placed your broad hands on her knees. Sevika smiled, all smug as she reached over to a nearby discarded vest, brought out the rest of her blunt, and lit up as her eyes poured over your exposed upper body. She inhaled deep using her metal arm, and with her flesh hand she traced over your biceps, satisfied.

All confident, you started on her inner thighs, taking your time. When your lips finally connected with her wet cunt, you heard her make a sharp exhale through her teeth. You kept going, first going over it all with a flat tongue, drinking in the moment, then using your tongue to explore her folds. Sevika let out a satisfied hum as you started sucking at her swollen, neglected clit.

That was when you brought your fingers up to her entrance, casually tracing, nothing else. That pissed her off.

Sevika slapped the top of the couch to get your attention. Your eyes snapped up to hers as she leaned forward to get all up in your face, with her signature sneer on.

“Did someone pay you to waste my time?”

You froze.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, I’m seriously asking you if some outside party with an interest in distracting me paid you to bring me here and do absolutely nothing with me.” You raised your eyebrows, eyes all wide and innocent. That made her groan, and she covered her face with one hand, your puppy eyes making her feel horny and desperate and a little guilty about snapping at you.

“Just. Fuck. Me.” She collapsed backward and you didn’t respond, just immediately did what she asked. You pushed your two fingers inside her without warning — hard. Again she exhaled through her teeth.

With your mouth, you continued giving her clit attention, and you pushed in and out of her, fingertips maintaining contact with her front wall, the one closest to you.

The sounds she made were pornographic, and it made you aware of the pool of slick that had established itself in the crotch of your boxers. Listening to her body, you gradually picked up the pace and you found Sevikas hand weave through your hair, grabbing you roughly at the scalp and pressing you closer and closer still.

Her face was angled toward the sky as she whined, her metal hand gripping the cushion tight enough to create what was probably going to be permanent ripples in the fabric. You brought her closer and closer and her grip on your head tightened as she bucked her hips upward, essentially fucking herself on your tongue and fingers. She occasionally let out a depraved vocalization that a trained ear might recognize as “fuck,” “don’t stop,” and “faster-FUCK faster.”

Until the pulse inside her cunt became erratic, and you felt a familiar tremor in her legs. You didn’t let up. You started fucking her deeper, with more pressure, using your tongue to play with her clit faster. Sevika’s thighs involuntarily snapped up to trap your head and you brought your hands up to brace them. Your tongue still moving as she cried out, loud and animalistic as she rode out her orgasm. Her thighs held you so tight against her pussy that you couldn’t escape if you tried, and the strength would probably have suffocated someone more petite.

Eventually, Sevika’s cries retreated back into deep panting and her legs dropped back to the floor, still trembling and spasming. She looked down at you, eyes half lidded, and gave you what could have been interpreted as a smile. She spread her arms back out on the top edge of the couch cushions, somehow still holding the half-smoked blunt. You shook your hair and a bit of ash fell out, which made you giggle. You were so invested in fucking her, you hadn’t noticed the active fire hazard against your skin the whole time.

With her chin, the woman gestured to the spot on the couch next to her. You settled in, your sides touching and your head leaning back against where her bicep was resting. She wrapped that arm around to bring the blunt to your lips.

“You can finish it, I don’t like the roach,” she said, and you obliged. You took a deep hit from her fingers and the last fiery bits assaulted your lungs, but you liked it. Sevika ashed it out on the couch, as if you hadn’t already desecrated it enough. You settled into a comfortable silence and she allowed you to lean your head on her pec, still uncovered. Until she spoke up.

“Promise me something, Casanova.” Her voice hoarse and gravelly from the earlier activities.

“Mm?” you responded. She wrapped her arm around you to reach up and ruffle your hair.

“Promise me you’ll never get good at cards.” You sucked your teeth and sneered back at her, giving her a hefty shove, which she gladly returned with equal force.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 7

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: None, I think!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the entire series, and for being patient with me for this last chapter! I had some trouble writing it, but I hope it's up to standard :) Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Y/N’s brain was fuzzy when she woke up the next morning, as though a fog had settled over her. The room was dim, curtains ruffling slightly from the breeze drifting through the open space. She felt warm and comfy in the big bed until she realised why – she was cuddled up to Lando again. Her first instinct was to pull away till she remembered the night before. The fight, the club, the kiss... They had kissed. She had finally admitted her feelings for Lando, and he had felt the same. 

Her lips twitched into a giddy smile the thought, and if her leg wasn’t stuck between Lando’s she probably would have kicked her feet in excitement. Instead, she tightened her grip around Lando’s waist and cuddled closer, pressing her nose against his back as she breathed in his scent. It was only a few more minutes before Lando stirred, his sleepy confusion melting into a lazy smile at the unfamiliar but welcome feeling of her arms wrapped around him.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, turning over to face the woman, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hi,” she mumbled shyly as Lando pulled her closer.

“How are you feeling this fine morning?” Lando asked her teasingly.

“Good, you?”

“Hm, me too. Especially with you lying next to me,” he replied, grinning cheekily.

Y/N blushed at his blatant flirting – had he always been this obvious? She tried to hide her flushed face in his chest, but Lando had already seen it. He chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair affectionately. He couldn’t be happier: he had the girl of his dreams lying against him, shy and adorable in the way that made his chest ache. After their moment on the beach yesterday, he certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

“We should get ready, no?” Y/N mumbled though she made no move to leave his arms. 

“Don’t want to leave the bed yet,” Lando murmured back, tightening his hold on her slightly.

She chuckled. “Well, I think I’d like some breakfast soon. Don’t you?”

“Don’t they have room service here?”

“Lando,” Y/N tutted, resting her chin on his chest so she could watch him, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not doing this willingly,” he complained before getting up. 

They got ready slowly, taking their time as they got dressed, talking about unimportant things as they waited for the elevator. They walked to the hotel restaurant leisurely, savouring their short moment alone before they saw the others.

“Good morning,” Y/N said cheerfully as she slid into an empty seat at the table. 

“Good morning, indeed," Pietra replied, her smirk giving away her suspicion at Y/N’s unusually chirpy behaviour. “Good morning, indeed. "You're in a good mood. Sleep well?” She asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Y/N, unlike her oblivious brother, caught the meaning behind it straight away, a flush coming over her face. “I slept fine,” she replied quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced at her brother. Thank God he never paid attention.

“How was your night?” She deflected, remembering the not-so-secret kisses between her brother and his girlfriend in the elevator. Max smiled cheekily, placing an arm on the back of Pietra’s chair before answering smugly, “Very good.” 

Safe to say, Y/N immediately regretted that question, her smile falling from her face straight away. She cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Right.”

“Any ideas for our last day here?” She continued, desperate to steer the conversation away from last night.

“I mean, it’s rather warm today. We could go to the beach again?” Lando suggested, sending Y/N a discreet wink when she looked at him. Of course, he’d want to – he surely remembered how she’d looked at him yesterday.

“Again? Isn’t there something else we could do?”

“What? You didn’t enjoy the beach? I thought you quite liked the view,” Lando teased, his tone so smug it took all Y/N’s effort not to roll her eyes. “Well, I suppose we could go golfing again,” he continued after pretending to think for a second.

She groaned. “No. I’m not golfing again, especially since you won’t let me drive the cart. Unless,” she added sweetly, batting her eyelashes, “you’ve changed your mind?” Lando merely shook his head, eyes wide as if he’d do anything to avoid that from ever happening again.

Y/N sighed. “Beach it is, then.”

Getting ready for their day trip felt familiar; Lando leaning casually against the doorjamb, pretending to watch her pack her bag while his gaze flitted over her, lingering on the way her cover-up barely concealed her figure. The way his hand rested on her back as they crossed the street, his eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror as he drove – the only difference with yesterday was that they were now… Dating? Y/N wasn’t entirely sure, though. They had talked about their feelings, and that they were mutual, but they hadn’t confirmed where they stood now.

Y/N walked beside Pietra as they headed down the beach in search of the perfect spot to set up. “So, what exactly happened between you and Lando last night? You two seemed very close this morning – closer than ever before, I think. And no more fighting than usual… So? Did you make up or make out?” Pietra said with a mischievous smile as Y/N blushed at her directness.

“Both, I guess,” she mumbled. “But don’t tell Max, we’re not official yet, I think.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, mentally going over the conversation again.

“You think?” Pietra asked, cocking a brow.

“Well, we admitted we like each other and agreed we didn’t want the kiss to be a one-time thing, but he didn’t exactly ask me to be his girlfriend or anything. So… I think we’re dating? Maybe?”

“Look at you,” Pietra said excitedly, “you’re dating Lando Norris! And you made out? I’m so proud of you!” The smile on her face was big and victorious as she squeezed her closer in a side hug.

Y/N laughed at the expression. “Well, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think we’d have gotten together anytime soon.”

“Hm, I second that.”

“Right? Lando’s not good at flirting, no matter how much he thinks he is.”

Pietra looked at her incredulously. “I hate to say it, but I think you were the problem, babe. You’re as oblivious as your brother; didn’t notice he was in love with you for years. He literally told you straight to your face several times.”

Y/N scoffed. “He did not. Besides, whatever he calls flirting is clearly teasing, or just being annoying.”

“Whatever you say... I won’t tell Max, by the way. But just so you know, he approves.”

“He does? That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, I think he told Lando a few days ago that he knew Lando likes you, and that he was okay with it. So, you’re good. Doesn’t mean you should be kissing or touching in front of him though. But I guess you know that, with how he reacts to you being around men and all.”

Y/N nodded, before thanking her. They settled down in a place on the beach not much later. Y/N layed down her towel, settling down under the shadow of the parasol and rummaging through her bag for her book. She was about to open it when Lando stopped her, pulling her up from her towel before she could get comfortable. “Let’s go swimming this time? Please?” He asked her.

“But my book… I want to finish it before we leave tomorrow,” she mumbled with a pout.

Lando’s hand slid down her arm to hold her hand, slightly pulling on it. “Just a little while,” he tried again. “Or do I have to steal it away from you again?” 

Y/N’s pout morphed into a sneaky smile at his need for attention before she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Alright, then.”

Lando grinned at her response, waiting for her to rid of her cover-up. He was watching her intently, taking in her beauty, the way her hair moved in the warm breeze, and how the sunlight lit up her skin. His adoring gaze was obvious, even to Max, and although Max already knew about Lando’s crush on his sister (or rather, his infatuation), Lando didn’t want to provoke him. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the shells littering the beach, and pulled Y/N along as soon as she was ready, wanting to be away from Max’s prying sooner rather than later.

Once the water was up to their waists and Max and Pietra were far away, Lando tugged Y/N closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She reciprocated immediately, holding onto his shoulders tightly while his hands steadied her in the rocking water.  

“Lando,” Y/N murmured between his kisses, and he only hummed in response.

“We need to be careful, Lan,” she said when he finally gave her enough space to pull away.

A frown came over his face. “Careful? What do you mean?”

“Max,” Y/N clarified. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him in on this just yet. I mean, I’m not even sure what this is exactly…”

“You’re not sure what we are?” Lando asked, his grip on her waist tightening.

“I mean… We never talked about what—”

“We did,” Lando cut her off. “I said I like you, you said you like me, we said we don’t want this to be a one-time thing. You’re my girlfriend now.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. Her lips parted slightly as she processed his words, and Lando smiled, clearly entertained by her reaction.

“You always overcomplicate everything. It’s not that difficult, Y/N.” 

Lando’s fingers combed through her hair before settling on her jaw, pulling her face a little nearer to his. He leant in closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

“Now that’s settled, can I kiss you in public?”

Y/N laughed softly before nodding, pulling him into another kiss – slow, soft, adoring. Her hands trailed up his shoulders, to the hair at the edge of his neck where she pulled him closer, just for a little while.

“So where did we land on the brother problem?”

“You can decide. He’s your brother. If you want him to know, we’ll tell him. If not, I don’t mind keeping this just between us for a bit,” Lando stated, his hand sliding down her back reassuringly.

“I’m not sure,” she said, fiddling with the hair at the back of Lando’s head. “P told me that he’s alright with it, that apparently he told you it’s okay.” Lando nods in response, confirming that Pietra was correct. “What do you think?”

“He’ll figure it out eventually. We might as well tell him now so we won’t have to hide it.”

Y/N hummed in thought, considering the options. “You’re right, so we tell him?”

“Perfect. Let’s tell him after lunch. That gives us a few hours to mentally prepare, and, you know, enjoy this.”

He leant in for another kiss, and Y/N laughed softly, letting herself melt into it before she pushed him away, into the water. Lando looked at her in shock and offence when he resurfaced. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, shaking water from his hair before lunging for her. Y/N squealed, attempting to escape, but Lando grabbed her leg, pulling it out from under her. She fell into the water with a laugh, splashing him in retaliation.

– – – – –

Back on the beach, Max was sprawled out under the sun, seemingly attempting to get a tan while Pietra was reading her magazine. When two shadows fell over her, she glanced up, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk when she noticed the poorly hidden intertwined pinkies.

“Have fun?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Y/N cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand from Lando’s. “It was fine,” she replied, her tone casual but her cheeks betraying her with a slight flush.

They rested in the sun for a while, to dry up, before they grabbed lunch at one of the nearby stands. Y/N slid onto the bench of one of the picnic tables, her box of food in hand.  

Lunch was casual, though Y/N couldn’t ignore the tension building inside her. She picked at her food, stealing occasional glances at Max, who seemed blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

To be fair, the situation almost seemd normal, if it wasn't for Lando. Throughout the meal, he constantly leant in close to whisper something in her ear, or he rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles that made it hard to concentrate. He stole fries off her plate with zero shame, grinning mischievously when she swatted his hand away and teased her when she spilt ketchup on her cover-up. Not to mention, he would lean into her personal space whenever he felt like it. 

Lando's confidence only heightened her nerves; he was so obvious in his affection, so unbothered by the risk of Max noticing it. It was honestly a wonder Max hadn't commented on it yet, but he would if Lando didn't stop soon.

When they finished eating, Lando straightened up in his seat and clapped his hands together, the sound loud enough to catch everyone's attention. Y/N closed her eyes and rubbed her face at his approach, already knowing this would not end well.

"So, Max," Lando started, his voice confident.

Max frowned, confused at the sudden seriousness. “What?”

“There’s something we want to tell you," he continued, glancing at Y/N.

Y/N told herself not to worry – Max had already given his blessing, right? It didn't stop her body from tensing up, though. Lando noticed straight away, slightly squeezing her thigh in attempt to reassure her, but it had the opposite effect. Why was he touching her like that when her brother was sitting right there, focused on them?

Max raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as he narrowed his eyes. “Okay...?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Lando and I, uh, we’re sort of...”

“Dating,” Lando finished for her, his voice confident and steady.

Max blinked, processing their words, before leaning back in his seat. His brows lifted in genuine surprise as he looked at Lando. “You convinced her?”

Lando chuckled before leaning back in his seat with a triumphant smile. “Took some work, but yeah, I did.”

Y/N shot Lando a glare, her face heating. “Took some work? You make it sound like I was impossible or something.”

“You kind of were,” Lando teased, his grin widening. “Stubborn as hell. But that’s part of your charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible, honestly,” she trailed off before turning to her brother. “But… You’re okay with it? Not that we need your approval or something, I’d just like you to be okay with it,” Y/N asked her brother nervously.

“Yeah, I told Lando earlier this week. I think he’s good for you, just thought it would’ve taken him longer to convince you of that.” Max shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the hidden jab but let it slide, instead focusing on the approval part, and the relief she felt because of it. She let out a breath. “Okay. That’s good.” 

Her hand found Lando’s under the table, their fingers intertwining as she turned toward him, her lips curling into a small smile. “That’s good,” she repeated. 

She felt herself relax at her brother’s blessing, as if it was all the confirmation she needed to believe she made the right choice. She glanced up at Lando as he joked around with her brother, watching his eyes crinkle as he grinned, and she realised it felt right – she and Lando felt right.

– – – – –

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spidey.lovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting @01rrdbull @alex-wotton @liv1209 @forensicheart @carey86 @avagracekeating @sltwins @graceln4 @chachaxbear @lucktales @benstormy @cheyennep3107 @suicidepanda07 @hellowgoodbye @itsartesworld @fleurskles @monstermash234 @haileysaintmleux @ainocilla @bicchaan @lnlightning81 @f1updates4you @rana-dprian @slytherinbithc @fangirl125reader @saturnbloom77 @itssueed @rebecca-9 @radiator101 @f1norris04 @teamnovalak @noescapricho-essentimiento @itsjustfranzi @obxstiles @liv1209 @sagestack

[venus-haze]

God's Got a Sick Sense of Humor (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Your decision to dress up as a slutty nun for Halloween has unexpected consequences when you make the acquaintance of an equally attractive and disturbed priest. (AO3 link)

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Not entirely spoiler-free, but if you’ve watched up to episode 6, you should be good! Also I couldn't find what the parish name was, so I made one up. The gif doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, I just like it🤭 Please look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this fic.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Non-con involving degradation, rough oral sex (m. receiving); ambiguous ending.

You knew early on in the night you had made a mistake in costume choice. The vinyl skirt started pinching your waist after less than an hour of wearing it, the nipple pasties were slowly peeling off despite your best effort, and the platform heels weren’t forgiving after several shots of tequila. The vinyl habit stayed in place with the bobby pins you used, but after a while, it felt like it was cooking your head.

Your friends found your plight funnier as the night went on, cracking jokes about how it was God punishing you for wearing the costume in the first place. Lisa had little trouble with her Tinkerbell costume, a green mini-dress and sparkly heels she pulled from her closet and a cheap set of fairy wings from the same Spirit Halloween you got your costume from. Julie’s Bridgerton-inspired costume seemed a bit out of place compared to you and Lisa, but she got a lot of compliments on the details.

For the limited the fun your little desert town had to offer, something was definitely missing from the night out.

“Why did Merritt say she couldn’t make it, again?” Lisa asked, the three of you walking down the street to the next bar you’d inevitably terrorize. All the usual haunts, where the bartenders knew your order and half the patrons were people you’d gone to high school with and definitely didn’t want to see again.

You shrugged. “I texted her earlier, and she said she couldn’t make it, something came up.”

“It sucks she doesn’t hang out anymore,” Julie said. “Did we do something?”

“I mean, her dad’s in a coma, and her mom’s working all the time with those gross murders going on,” Lisa said. “She’s probably the only one keeping things together at home.”

The three of you had known Merritt for years, your friend group becoming tight-knit as time went on. Getting carted to and from soccer games turned into sleepovers and late nights getting fast food. You got to know the Tryons pretty well over the years. Her dad was nice enough, and you always found her mom funny, if not a bit overprotective, but Lois always remembered your birthday.

“I’m gonna stop by sometime this week. It’s been way too long since any of us have seen her,” you resolved.

Lisa and Julie agreed, though you weren’t sure Merritt would appreciate all of you showing up unannounced at her house. You figured you’d be better off going yourself and seeing what the deal was with Merritt.

Stumbling over your platforms, you struggled to keep up with Lisa and Julie until you tripped and nearly wiped out on the sidewalk. You caught yourself on a nearby telephone pole, the lights from the nearby buildings blurring the more you tried to focus.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a convenience store and then get an Uber home.”

“We can go with you,” Julie said.

You shook your head. “Don’t end your night early because of me.”

“Alright, text us when you get home.”

When the world finally appeared upright again, you looked at the nearby street sign, recognizing where you were, at least. Not far to the nearest shop that you were certain would be open late. You checked your phone for the time and felt especially lame. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a sigh, you turned down the street, opening your messages to your most recent text to Merritt. Your FaceTime request went unanswered, so you opted for an audio message instead.

“Hey Mer, it’s me. We missed you tonight!” You paused awkwardly, wishing you could actually talk to her. “Look, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, something out in the desert. It’s not too late to get a costume. We could go to the Spirit Halloween in the old Bed, Bath and Beyond—“ A catcall interrupted your rambling. “Look, just call me or something, at least let me know you’re alright? Bye, babe.”

The fluorescent lights in the store were almost headache-inducing, but you powered through for a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar that you hoped would mitigate the hangover you’d inevitably have in the morning. 

Gatorade in hand, you felt almost dizzy staring at the array of protein bars in front of you, wondering how there could even be so many and if they were really any different. A man walked down the aisle, standing a few feet away from you, though you didn’t pay him much mind until you grabbed a protein bar and noticed he was dressed as a priest.

“Hey, nice costume,” you told him.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume.”

You laughed. “Right.” Your inhibitions lowered, you gave him a once over, your gaze lingering on his handsome face, his muscular arms. “You know it’s a shame we didn’t run into each other earlier tonight, we probably could’ve won a couples contest or something.”

He smiled, though something flickered in his brown eyes that made your guts churn. Except, it likely wasn’t him, as you shoved what you were holding onto the shelf next to you and rushed out of the store.

You wretched, the contents of your stomach emptied onto the blacktop. Tears burned your eyes, your throat scratchy and raw by the time you were done. You felt a hand on your upper back, could barely hear the sound of a man asking if you were okay over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Glancing up, you were mortified to see the priest looking at you with concern, though disgust was nowhere in his expression.

He handed you the Gatorade you’d been holding in the store, apparently going ahead and buying it for you. Taking a swig, you swished some around in your mouth before spitting it on the ground. He gave you a handful of crumpled napkins as well, and you tried maintaining what was left of your dignity while getting yourself together in front of him.

You managed a mousy thanks, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you plan on driving home,” he said.

You shook your head. “I came out here with my friends."

"And they just left you like this? Alone?"

"I told them I'd get an Uber.”

“They'll charge you double tonight," he said. "I can drive you.”

Accepting a ride home from a stranger certainly wasn’t the smartest choice to make, but he actually seemed to give a shit about your well-being. You agreed, if not for the fact that you were curious about him, and the horny part of your brain hadn't shut up since you saw him.

He kept his hand on your back as he walked you over to his car. Almost felt like his fingers were twitching against your skin. 

Getting into his car, you noticed the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, a saint card clipped to his visor. 

“Oh my god, are you actually a priest?” you asked from the passenger seat as he turned the car on.

“I told you it wasn’t a costume.”

“Shit.”

“Father Charlie Mayhew, from Our Lady of Sorrows, if you don’t believe me.” He smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

After giving him your address along with your name, realizing you hadn’t told him yet, you rolled the window down about halfway, finding the fragrant odor of incense and cologne a bit overwhelming for your queasy stomach. The cool night air gave you instant relief, and you laid back on the headrest, keeping your eyes closed for a few minutes. 

Father Charlie filled the quiet with a true crime podcast. Not a particularly odd choice, except that he was a priest, but Catholicism always lent itself to morbidity—his was more modern, you supposed.

“Have you heard about those murders around town?” you asked over the sound of a young woman giving the background of a triple homicide.

“Yes, our parish’s publication has been reporting on it,” he said. “I'm the editor, but one of our nuns is working closely with the lead detective on the case.”

You opened your eyes to look at him in disbelief. “Lois is working with a nun?”

“You know detective Tryon?”

“She’s my best friend’s mom,” you said. “I went to her house all the time growing up.”

“You must know her pretty well, then.”

“Yeah, Lois is one hell of a detective,” you said. “Still, I can’t imagine…whoever’s behind it must be depraved. What he’s doing—it’s not even human, it’s animal.”

“He?”

“I don’t think anyone but a man could be capable of that kind of barbarism, Father.”

“You might be right about that,” he said solemnly.

You drank more Gatorade, hoping to settle your stomach and ease your discomfort with the direction the conversation had taken. But you were the one who brought up the murders in the first place. All had some kind of religious connotation. No wonder the Catholic paper was eating that shit up. 

Catholicism was always predisposed to an especially grotesque morbidity. Open wounds considered blessings. Bones of the holy displayed with reverence. Even bread and wine transformed into the body and blood of Christ himself. Whoever was behind the recent murders was either observant or well-read.

Father Charlie pulled up to your building about ten minutes later, and you internally sighed in relief when he turned the podcast off. You couldn’t wait to get out of the damn costume and into bed.

“Thanks, Father Charlie,” you said. “I owe you one.”

“Actually, mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked.

You shook your head. “‘Course not. Come on up.”

Acutely aware of the costume you were wearing again, it was far too tempting not to show off on the way up to your apartment, swinging your hips a bit more than was warranted, knowing he was right behind you, the tight skirt giving him a full view of your ass. You privately bemoaned the fact that he was actually a priest. What a fucking waste. A guy who looked like him had no business giving himself to Jesus and denying the rest of the world the pleasure.

You took a selfie by your front door, a tired smile and a thumbs up that you sent to Julie and Lisa.

“Just letting my friends know I got home safe,” you explained, noticing Father Charlie staring at you.

You could barely hide your self-satisfied smile when you unlocked the front door. “The bathroom’s through the kitchen, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, the first thing you did was take your heels off. Your feet were still sore, with a mean blister that made you walk funny when you brought the heels over to your shoe rack. You could hear the toilet flush and the water from the sink run in the bathroom. Chewing on your lip, you were almost tempted to ask Father Charlie if he wanted to stick around. If you could just brush your teeth and reapply some makeup real quick, you'd be good as new.

You never got a chance to.

“So, why this costume?” he asked, startling you.

You gasped, turning around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Oh, um—I thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Well, nuns aren’t supposed to have sex, and this costume is—”

“Pornographic," he said. "I mean, it’s something you get fucked in.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, shocked at his bluntness.

“Chastity. The sacred vow to God that all women of the cloth take, and you—” he scoffed to himself, stepping into your bedroom so he was only a few feet away from you, “you mock it.”

You knew you should’ve picked the sexy nurse costume instead. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“You will be. Get on your knees.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Don’t be crude. This is about repentance.”

The searing venom in his voice made your muscles contort to his will, and you found yourself on your knees. You should have been fighting back, screaming for him to get out, but in your heart you knew it was useless. Back in the convenience store, you noticed his fit physique, and you could hardly count on your neighbors to give a shit if you were in any kind of trouble.

"Do you even know how to make a sign of the cross?" he asked mockingly.

You shakily did so, bringing your left hand to your forehead, then your chest, then to each shoulder. He scoffed, apparently you messed something up, but he didn't elaborate, instead ordering you to repeat after him. The prayer came jumbled from your mouth, 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault' over and over until his voice was ringing in your ears like a broken church bell.

The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore. You kept your eyes focused on his face, even when you heard the sound of his zipper and clothes shifting. But you couldn't help it, not when he was pumping his cock right in front of your face. Your repetition dipped with a slight whimper when you glanced at the size of him, foolishly hoping it was just proximity making his length appear so intimidating and angry, as if it wanted to hurt you just like he did.

“Simply praying won’t do someone like you any good," he said abruptly. "You need another form of penance, something more tangible."

Shoving his cock in your open mouth, you choked at the intrusion, attempted to shift backward and finally make a run for it, but he caught you by the habit you so stupidly kept in place with bobby pins and hit the back of your throat.

"Why don't you give me ten Hail Marys?" he mocked, his looming silhouette appearing outright demonic through your tear-filled gaze.

You didn't know the damn prayer. Couldn't even try to fake it when all you could manage was muffled pleas for him to slow down, go easy on you, have mercy. Your jaw ached, throat burned at the force he used to make you take as much of his cock as you possibly could.

He didn't show any signs of fatigue, save for the beads of sweat that rolled from his face and onto your own. He grinned at that, at you, the position you were in. The church was full of sickos, and he was certainly no exception.

Making one feeble attempt to fight back, your teeth grazed his cock, and just as you tried to work up the courage to bite down, he jerked his hips, cursing under his breath.

"Take it," his voice a low growl as he came in your mouth, ignoring your choking, spit and snot and cum leaking down your face and onto your vinyl costume and exposed breasts, "take your penance, slut."

Father Charlie hardly gave you a chance to catch your breath when he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth. You practically collapsed on your bedroom floor, each gasp of air painful against the back of your abused throat. Grabbing you by the habit again, he hauled you over to your bed, bending you over the edge of it.

He shoved his fingers between your legs and scoffed at the wetness that coated your thighs, your thong doing little to contain your subconscious reaction to the way he treated you. "Oh, that's just shameful," he drawled. "You're not repentant at all, are you? Leading a man of the cloth astray, causing me to sin…why else would you have put this costume on tonight?"

Straddling you from behind like a dog, his body was heavy on yours. With one hand squeezing your neck, the other pressed something against your throat. You reached for whatever he was holding, freezing in panic when you realized it was the hair scissors you kept in your bathroom. He must have swiped it while he was in there. They weren't even that sharp, but the extra effort he'd have to put in to mortally injure you with them would mean it would be all the more painful for you.

“Depraved, animal, barbaric,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think of me?”

You whimpered, feeling his cruel laughter rumble in his chest against your back. “No—no, you can’t be—”

“I was going to do something about that costume anyway, but having that mutual friend in common,” he mused, “I just can’t pass up the opportunity to leave Detective Tryon a personal message. Call it divine will.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You can tell God yourself how sorry you are,” he whispered.

“No—Father, please don’t—”

[bitethedevil]

raphael is not free, he works kinda for his daddy. How does he spend his free time? when there is no soul or contract? no more cringe diary to write?? no more spying?? no more obsession with his dream? just him with fre time

Raphael’s Free Time

I’ve always had a sense that Raphael both works hard and plays hard. I mean look at his house and how it is. When he’s done with work, don’t even think about speaking to him or bothering him. It’s his chill time. Though I also feel like even his chill time is neatly scheduled and he has trouble with not doing anything at all. Even when he’s lounging in his bath or drinking wine on his balcony, his mind is still running. I also feel like he’s the type of person to have side projects, and his side projects have side projects.

There’s a bit of everything, honestly

He is thousands of years old, so I feel like he has learned a bit of everything. A lot of his off time probably goes to research. He has had hundreds of clients with hundreds of different professions and interests, and Raphael is not going to be caught looking stupid.

He learns a bit of everything to know how to better deal with those specific people. I’m thoroughly convinced that he knows a bit about everything and he’s proficient in just about every skill and hobby under the sun. Hunting, fishing, sewing, knitting, gardening, cooking, embroidering, you name it.

He might not like all those things equally, but he knows stuff about it, and he knows how to do it. I don’t think he’s able to deal with not being good at something or not knowing about something. Learning new things and acquiring new skills doesn’t intimidate him.

What he likes

We know from his diaries and some of the books around the House of Hope that he likes to write. He’s constantly writing contracts anyway, so that is not surprising. He likes writing creatively about his own plans and making fanfiction about himself. He writes poetry and songs, and even incorporates that into his contracts, as seen with Yurgir.

He plays music and sings too. He is a bard, after all. I think a lot of his time is spent on that and it seems like something he enjoys. We all know he likes the sound of his own voice, so it makes good sense.

He paints too. It’s not directly proven in the game, but there are painting supplies and an easel at the HoH. If I remember correctly, he mostly paints landscapes. I think that’s interesting considering all the paintings he has of himself. I don’t think he was the one to make the portraits of him. In some psychoanalytical way I think that’s because he is unable to properly capture how he himself is and is only able to see what he wants himself to be, but he enjoys other people’s depictions of himself (given that they fit the image HE has of himself). What he can depict though, is how he sees the world, thus: landscapes. Might just be me overanalysing again. I’ve written more about his portraits here.

All in all, he’s a very creative dude. It’s not really surprising considering that devils are only worth as much as they produce in a way, so even in his free time, he is still making things and being productive, though in another more recreational way. I think he is like that though: he has to do something or he’ll go insane.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[rineros]

SHE WAS TOO GOOD TO ME

summary: he wants to heal

characters: miya atsumu, ex!reader

contains: 1.6k, self reflection post breakup

note: don’t judge ooc atsuwu i haven’t written hq fics in four years and he was the closest person to my ex bestie #fuckthatguy

sometimes, miya atsumu allows himself to wonder what could have happened if he wasn’t such an asshole.

he glances to his right. across the empty side of the bed where the scent of your shampoo was fading, his alarm clock reads 2:56 am. he groans loudly in frustration and drags his hands down his face, stretching out his tired features.

he stares at his ceiling that is illuminated by the glow in the dark stars you and he stuck up there once upon a time. a small smile strikes him when he remembers walking in on you hopping on the bed to get them up there.

he had watched you for a minute before you saw him. he’ll never forget that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when you laughed joyously the moment you saw him and jumped from the bed to his arms. he held on to you tightly as he spun you around, relishing in the feeling of being truly loved.

you had kissed him so gently as you smiled when he set you down that he thought of himself as an adorable little puppy.

you excitedly showed him the progress you had made over the past hour, which honestly wasn’t much, but he knew you had probably gotten distracted by your phone.

“i got an idea,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “turn around.”

“you’re one dirty dog, you know that?” you giggled as you followed his movements.

you had yelped as you felt yourself being hoisted up into the air, but he gripped your waist as you held on to his hair for dear life. you steadied yourself and praised him for being such an innovative and creative problem-solver, making his cheeks flush.

from there, he walked to wherever in the room you wanted to place the stars, bed be damned, and by the time you two had finished, the sun had set. he set you down as he had done earlier and the two of you had lain patiently in bed, talking to pass the time as you waited for the darkness to settle.

when the stars started glowing, both of you had squealed childishly, but he thought that all those rare, once-in-a-lifetime comets could never compare to the sparkle in your eyes. cheesy, he knows.

he checks his clock again. it’s a quarter past three.

osamu’s going to be pissed if he calls him.

fuck it.

atsumu grabs his phone from the nightstand and dials the person who will always listen to him. he cringes when he hears osamu’s ringtone across the hallway.

it rings… and rings… and rings. voicemail.

an eerie silence settles in the apartment. you always hated that. the air is still, his pillow is much too flat, and there’s a disturbing feeling bubbling in his throat.

atsumu jumps and drops his phone on his face as his ringtone blares in his ears. he pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing it to soothe the sharp pain as he accepts the call.

“the hell you want?” the raspy voice of his brother mutters. atsumu feels bad because he knows that osamu’s first class starts at 8:00, but he can’t deal with this anymore tonight.

“i just… i wanted to talk.” his foot starts to shake and bounce as the silence returns.

a second passes, then another.

“come over.”

with that, his restless body rises from bed and walks quickly and nimbly across the hall to osamu’s room with his blanket wrapped around him. he opens the door to a half-asleep osamu and climbs into his queen-sized bed, the perk he received since atsumu got the bigger room. he makes himself comfortable as he lays on his side to face osamu, bringing the blanket up to his chin, basking in the warmth that could never match your own.

“gimme a sec,” osamu says gruffly. his eyes are still closed as he lays on his back. atsumu watches as he takes a few more deep breaths, then slowly cracks his neck to wake himself up. “talk.”

atsumu moves to lay himself on his back after he sees his eyes open slightly. they both stare at osamu’s bare ceiling.

“i never told you this, but when she broke up with me,” he pauses. “she didn’t cry. she looked too exhausted.

“she told me even before we broke up that i stopped putting in as much effort and that she felt like she wasn’t even in a relationship anymore, just the ghost of it.

“she completely tore me to shreds without even raising her voice because that’s who she is. no matter how much you hurt her, she’ll never hurt you. she cares too much. she wasn’t even trying to rip into me, like, she was just explaining the type of person i am and how my actions affected her and everyone’s perception of me.

“she told me that every time i hurt her, it seemed like i didn’t take her seriously and i never took accountability for my actions; i was always trying to weasel my way out of trouble.

“but i just wanted to preserve everyone’s feelings, y’know? i wanted to keep the peace. i never meant to make her feel like that.”

atsumu stops talking for a second as he waits for osamu to say something. it’s all a blur, with bits and pieces flashing in his head, but he could never forget the blank look in your eyes as you pointed out his shortcomings as a person, not just as a boyfriend.

“we judge others based on their actions, but we judge ourselves by our intentions,” osamu says. his voice is still ragged with exhaustion and his eyes have closed yet again. “i heard mom say somethin’ like that to her friend once.

“i believe you when you say you think you didn’t do anything wrong, but that’s only from your perspective. you’re busy; i get that and so does she. there’s volleyball, classes, homework, clubs, work, your friends, and then you added her, but it seems like you had spread yourself too thin already—“

“and that’s exactly one of the points i told her,” atsumu interrupts. “i’m not gonna be able to give her 100% all the time because i already do so much.”

osamu side-eyes him. “will you shut up and let me finish?”

atsumu huffs but lets him continue anyway.

“what i’m trying to get at is that, yeah, you’re busy, but you’re not the only person that’s busy. this isn’t just your world that we’re living in, it’s everyone’s. to her, it must have seemed like all of the effort, time, and love she invested in you was losing its value every time you ignored her or prioritized something stupid when she needed you. it’s not difficult to detach yourself from something that treats you like you don’t matter if you know your worth.

“you also lie. a lot. and i know you think they’re harmless little white lies, but they’ve gotten too out of hand lately that you’ve probably become desensitized to them.

“she’s smart and she knows you. she knew whenever you lied and it destroyed any kind of trust or credibility that you had.

“and that bullshit about wanting to spare everyone’s feelings? you know you don’t care about all that. also, who cares? nobody made you play mediator besides yourself and it’s impossible to not hurt anyone. you’re already hurting people; you’ve done it before and you’re going to keep doing it because that’s what learning is about. making mistakes. and if you haven’t already realized that you’re hurting people more than you would if you’d just tell the damn truth, you’re screwed,” osamu finishes his monologue, leaving atsumu in his thoughts.

was it really that bad for you? was he?

when he was younger, his tongue was as sharp as a shard of glass and he was much more careless with his words. it didn’t matter to him if the true words, in his opinion, hurt those around him. his belief was that there was no improvement without criticism. as he grew up, however, he had to learn to filter himself because nobody would willingly choose to be around someone who solely focused on their flaws.

and somewhere between then and now, he had forgotten the importance of honesty, usually opting to twist and bend the truth to preserve his reputation. it started off with a fib of “too much hw, can’t hang tn :(“ to multiple complicated lies spanning months, in which he would tell others things to make himself seem better. the kinder person, the most reliable, the smartest. just better.

eventually, it became too difficult to manage all of these lies and his stories became mixed up. when he was questioned about it, he would lie even more and even harder.

even now, as osamu told atsumu what he thought of him and his situation with you, there wasn’t much good. though atsumu came to osamu for comfort tonight, he, like you, wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, but it seems that’s the way he is destined to feel about himself when his personality is brought into conversation.

osamu snores next to him and as atsumu snuggles up to his blanket further, he realizes that this is a path he no longer wants to walk down.

he’s going to be better.

[nightlyrequiem]

there's this tiktok audio that's like "say im doing too much and you'll never see me doing a thing again in your life" which feels so valeria to me like i think this woman is so dramatic but acts like she isn't. she is also one of those ppl who can't let shit go and will bring it up until the day she dies.

"remember that time you fell asleep and forgot to call me"

"that was two years ago.."

"oh really? felt like yesterday to me"

it takes her 29393838 years to get over arguments (even though SHE started 99% of them) and yk she lacks accountability so she'll always bring up what you said instead of the hundreds of insults she said

"hand you the remote? no. remember when you called me a crazy bitch who makes up things in her head. yeah, grab it your goddamn self"

"and you told me to die"

"only because you called me a crazy bitch"

(the crazy bitch comment came way after the die comment but okay)

-����

Homegirl doesn’t realize she’s dramatic either. I think it’s because she just feel things more intensely than usual and it makes it hard for her to act normal about it. Even if it’s something tiny like your tone being off. Suddenly you don’t love her so she starts distancing herself and acting all cold and it’s YOUR job to figure out what happened. God forbid she try to communicate with you 😒

You’re so right though, this woman can’t let anything go. I don’t think she’s even being manipulative or mean about it she just genuinely can’t fully get over things. You’re right about the accountability thing too.

Cognitive dissonance is her best friend. Shes usually in the wrong but she’ll find small ways to justify it. She started fight because you came home late even though you had a genuine reason? Well you should’ve told her before hand, you know she has trust issues.

The thing about insults is she’s always WORSE! She can’t let go and she doesn’t back down. If you don’t leave first you’d legitimately spend the entire day or night fighting. She’s not afraid to say things she know will hurt you 😖

She’s probably too far gone for therapy but that’s okay bc she’s Valeria

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Next time

“She killed me!”

“She does that.”

“But—the ballad. The road!”

“All a lie, I’m afraid. A little trick she uses to lure people to their deaths. Like a beautiful siren on the rocks, singing to passing sailors.”

“Um.”

“Yes?”

“You’re staring at her.”

“Am I? I guess I am.”

“Can she see us?”

“No. She knows we’re here, though. She always knows.”

“I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

“I can pass on a message, if you want?”

“Tell her she’s a despicable, wicked creature who deserves to rot in Hell.”

“Ooh, very harsh. I like it. So. Are you ready?”

“…No. But I don’t get a choice, do I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“There was more I wanted to do.”

“There always is.”

“…What happens next?”

“Come and see.”

*****

“Hi, Ags. One of them says you’re a despicable, wicked creature who should rot in Hell.”

”How incredibly unoriginal. Which one?”

“….uh.”

“Wow. You can’t even remember, can you?”

“...Maybe that one?”

“That’s a little insulting to the souls of the dead, not being able to tell them apart.”

“I see a lot of them. And they generally all have something nasty to say about you.”

“And that does hurt my feelings so. I cry about it every night. But you know, at the end of the day, I’m alive and they’re dead, and knowing that gives me the strength to carry on.”

“…you’re funny.”

”Looks like I can still make Death laugh.”

“Agatha…”

“Hmm?”

“…you know.”

“You miss me, you love me, you’re obsessed with me, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, Agatha. That sort of thing.”

“Hey, Rio, want to know something?”

“Probably not?”

“I wish I had never met you. I wish I had walked away the first time I saw you and never looked back. If I could take back every time I told you I loved you, I would.”

“What, all six times?”

“And only half of them real.”

“…stop.”

”Oh, that one hit, didn’t it? You were always so easy to manipulate. Please, my love, please. I love you so. Anything like that, and you’d do whatever I asked.”

“Yes. Because I love you, Ags, beyond all reason, even when I wish I didn’t. You can make me regret it, though.”

“Not half so much as I regret ever having loved you.”

“You do still love me, you know. You’re angry and hurt and taking it out on me, but you—“

“I don't. You can stalk me and obsess over me and follow me to the ends of the earth, but that part of me died the moment I buried my boy in the ground. I don’t think I can love anything anymore.”

“Beloved…”

“But if I could, I can promise it will never be you.”

“…All right, Agatha.”

“…That’s it? All right? I mean, that one was really vicious. I've been working on it all morning. I was hoping for a better reaction."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Crying or sulking or disappearing or something. …Not stabbing."

"I don't really know how to cry…Were you really working on it all morning? What incredibly cruel thing to say to me this time?"

"On and off. Around other things."

"…That's nice."

"What?! No, it isn't. It's the opposite of nice, that's the point."

"It's nice that you were thinking of me."

"...I honestly wonder what it's like to be you sometimes.”

"At the moment? Lonely."

"That wasn't meant as a question. But how can you be lonely? I'm right here."

"...you are very mean, beloved."

"Ah, there, that's better. More along the lines I was hoping for. Now shoo, I have other things to do, I'm a busy woman."

"Other things like what?"

"I'm sorry, are you under the impression that I'm going to share information with you, the being I hate most in the entire universe?"

"...Fine, Agatha. Have it your way."

"Wait!"

"Yes??"

"At least try to remember which one insulted me next time."

"...Really? That's what you—oh! Next time. Next...yes."

"Mmhmm. And I promise, eventually I will make you cry."

"I honestly don't think I can."

"Watch me."

"Always."

"...No, but really go away now."

"Yes, Agatha. Until next time."

"...See you then."

Want to read more witch fics? Here's a masterpost or go check out Death on Drums because I heard the 70s version of the ballad again and thought of it

[love-hold]

want to relive some of the top moments of the 2024 atp season?

(all mentioned events from my atp poll)

1) daniil medvedev and melbourne

- was this the cause of danya’s 2024 season downfall? probably. he played four five setters, two of which he started two sets down. his match against emil ended at around 1 am. he beat z*erev in the funniest way possible. he earned himself a new record stat: playing the most sets ever at a slam (31) in the open era. and from two sets up once again, he lost a heartbreaking slam final. but the fact that he managed to reach the final is incredible: i really hope his sufferings get rewarded. maybe 4th times the charm?

.

2) the great bee invasion of indian wells

- i don’t know how this happened. i don’t know why this happened. why did the bees solely target carlos? why were they there in the first place? is carlos actually winnie the pooh? this event doesn’t seem real, but it sure gave us the best memes of the year. shout out to lance, the bee man.

3) indian wells quarterfinal: rune vs medvedev

- people underestimate how fucking hilarious this interaction was. holger hit a defensive body shot but danya didn’t see holger’s apology. in classic danya fashion, he 1) snake-eyes holger and 2) mocks rune’s famous short-shorts. the best part: this beef lasted approximately an hour. “if you want we can talk about this in the locker room ” “there is no reason to talk about it” oh okay then. worlds shortest tennis spat.

4) madrid 2024

- this was the atp’s cursed tournament of the year. /@/fritzes has a lovely post about this so do check that out! ill just simplify this chaos here for now. carlos lost to rublev and jannik withdrew half an hour later. jiri received a walkover to the semis after daniil retired, and then jiri gifted a walkover himself to FAA. in total, FAA received 3 walkovers on route to the final, two of which were the QF and SF. andrey ended up winning the title, uncharacteristically calm. is this a new rublev? no. he was playing with tonsillitis, antibiotics, baby food, and a dream. what an absurd two weeks.

5) holger rune versus the ATP

- holger vs jannik on monte carlo clay never fails to deliver drama. in response to his unfortunate scheduling situation—having to finish two matches in a day due to rain delay and leaving him without proper rest for his match against jannik (who later won)—holger leaves a salty reply on his twitter account. i hope he never gets a socmed manager.

6) corentin moutet

- i can’t believe this didn’t get voted more, moutet during clay season was absolutely fucking hilarious. not only was he the first victim of rg’s new umpire head camera (him being a tennisblr hit post makes this even better), but in madrid, he caused a scene with the poor umpire bcause of his dire need for coffee. i also believe this match against shang was also the match where he managed to get hit by a sprinkler on the opposite court. to top it all off, in rome during his match against djokovic, his phone alarm randomly goes off mid match. even novak was amused.

i’m not even done. this man nearly bageled the unstoppable jannik sinner in round 4 of the french open. this man reached 5-0 AD-40 but somehow, the carrot head managed to save two games, denying moutet that bagel. i’m kinda mad that jannik clutched it: that would’ve been the funniest stat of the year.

7) tomas machac and his shorts

- okay i will give credit where credit is rightfully due. machac defeated djokovic in geneva. he beat alcaraz is shanghai. he won olympic gold for czechia in mixed doubles with his….…um…….with katerina siniakova. he probably has even better accomplishments this year, i just don’t know them at the top of my head.

but he will eternally be remembered as booty shorts machac. his shorts were literally shorter than katerina’s in paris. is it a distraction tactic? gives him better speed? is it effective? who knows. he pulls it off, i guess. (honorable mention: his antics against jannik in shanghai)

(source)

8) the resurgence of stefaniil

-what a great time to be a stefaniil truther during the laver cup this year. i think pictures speak louder than words, especially in this case, so enjoy. and for the video, please play it with audio.

9) hubert hurkacz

-hubi was so unhinged this year oml. he started his year by making iga cry at the united cup after poland’s doubles loss against germany. at roland garros, he attempted the most awkward, failed attempt at a coup. the words “hey G…” will follow his career just like “small cat” follows daniil. grigor’s expression of complete bewilderment and “really man? you’re doing this?” was the cherry on top.

oh i’m not done. i truly don’t know what possessed him at wimbledon this year. after fucking up his knee during his match against fils, he goes on court after a quite lengthy MTO and decides to dive AGAIN. he promptly retires on match point. like brother what. my favorite part of this situation is wawrinka and monfils both getting caught shit-talking hubi afterwards, saying something is wrong with his head. oh hubi

he disappeared for a little bit due to that injury but at the tail end of the season, he delivers one last hilarious moment. would love a look into his brain.

10) jack draper and jannik sinner: puke besties

- oh the friendship that rocked the tennis world. this relationship is fascinating: jack is full of swag and jannik is the literal definition of swagless (it’s okay we still love him for it.) this friendship saga is a two part experience. it first began in montreal with dinner doubles…and the infamous ass slap heard around the world. jannik reveals that he and jack are “good friends” which first of all, carlos alcaraz found dead in a ditch. THEN a month later, they’re projected to play each other in the USO semis and even more details are revealed. wdym they text each other often? WHAT DO YOU MEAN JAN AND JACK COOKED PASTA TOGETHER? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???

then the actual semi itself: horrendous. for them, not tennis wise though because those first two sets were actually pretty competitive…until jack threw up the first time, bless his heart. two historically-known sickly victorian children playing during the humid day session: that’s a recipe for disaster. at least the net hug was cute. (honorable mention: the anna & jannik bf memes that emerged)

11) taylor fritz vs arthur rinderknech

- okay this moment needs some context. flashback to roland garros, round two, 2023. taylor fritz is facing the last french man remaining in the main draw, and as per usual….the french crowd is being french (no offense), rowdy and rude. taylor keeps his cool until he wins the match and he:

hot. i mean what who said that.

honestly, this is an iconic image, biases aside. could it get better than this?

yes. yes it can

flash forward to wimbledon 2024, r2. both taylor and his french nemesis are projected to meet again, and rinderknech has a few words to say.

yeah taylor wasn’t going to take that. after taking the win against rinderknech, he came up to the net and dropped the best comeback of the year:

what a year. and there’s many more that i missed. i might make a pt. 2 but the WTA version is next.

[twomoreseconds]

Arcane theory - The first timeline

Now this might be a bit long so please bear with me. I absolutely loved the ending of Arcane (we win jayvik nation) but there are a few aspects of it that I can’t quite wrap my head around. If anybody has a different perspective than me please do tell I’d love to hear it.

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Now for what I don’t quite understand (I’ve never been good with the logic of time travel)

1. What was the first timeline like? How did the story play out the first time round? Ik time doesn’t work like that and ik about the bootstrap paradox but I’m still so curious. And how did Viktor know Jayce would be the one to save him?

2. How did Viktor know that he was giving Jayce a different rune each time? Is there like some history tab in the Arcane??

—————————————————————

I’ll now try to answer these questions but again it’s all purely my speculation:

—————————————————————

1. What was the first timeline like? How did the story play out the first time round? How did Viktor know Jayce would be the one to save him?

We learn that each time Viktor ends up destroying the world he goes back in time in an attempt to stop himself. He says to Jayce “In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this (this being the fault of his ideology).” This means he is certain that Jayce is the key to stopping him.

Now as to how he knows it’s Jayce and only Jayce that can free him from his false ideas. I have two theories.

A) He’s literally gone trough ALL other possibilities.

He’s nudged all people in and around Zaun and Piltover in the direction of developing hextech and through trial and error he finds that Jayce is the one. - This has many faults and is more of an idea than a theory

B) In the first timeline that started their loop he had already met Jayce.

If he had already in some capacity come into contact with Jayce and seen his desire to prove himself, his drive and kindness. He would know that that’s the person who’s to be his conquests undoing. - This theory sounds more plausible to me and thus is what I’ll be going with

With this established we can move on to what the first time line was like.

Since Viktor wasn’t there to save his mother, Jayce grows up to be an orphan (I can’t remember anyone ever mentioning his dad). I believe he would still gravitate to becoming an inventor/ scientist, but with no funding he would probably be someone’s assistant or some such.

Viktor wouldn’t have met Jayce so early so he would still be Heimerdingers assistant. Eventually though his illness would start showing and in my mind, Viktor wouldn’t want to die without his life meaning something, without helping the people of Zaun.

I believe he would go see Singed just like he did in our timeline. Singed wouldn’t have the support from Silco like he does in our timeline since there would be no explosion in Piltover, thus no arrest of Vander, thus no death of Vander, thus no Silco leader (presumably).

This would mean that Singed would seek more drastic measures for example hextech. I believe he would have given Viktor some hextech crystals and shimmer, maybe as a part of a deal maybe out of the goodness of his own heart.

I think Viktor would start researching hextech which would perhaps catch the attention of Jayce, leading to them working together on hextech in secret.

As his illness would progress Viktor would again corrupt the core and enhance his leg. This time though since there is no funding for their illegal study there would be no Sky, meaning there would be no accident (don’t even dare to tell me it would kill Jayce I don’t want to even think about that).

If there is no accident then maybe Viktor would use the core on himself sooner. Become the machine herald as he would have no guilt (Sky) making him hold on to his humanity.

If he becomes the machine herald so soon Jayce wouldn’t have much time to talk him out of everything. Not only would there not be enough time to talk, since they met so late their connection wouldn’t quite be what it becomes in our time line.

Jayce would get pretty close though since after Viktor achieves his salvation of the human race and realizes its faults, it’s Jayce who he trusts to save everyone.

Now he would come up with the plan to inspire Jayce sooner, so he develops hextech sooner, so they meet sooner, so Jayce has more time to stop him.

This only eventually works when Ekko buys him more time, otherwise he still wouldn’t have enough time to convince Viktor. (Ekko is the goat fr)

—————————————————————

Now for with the one that makes the least amount of sense to me.

2. How did Viktor know he was giving Jayce a different rune each time?

In episode 9 we are explicitly shown and told that Viktor went and tried all kinds of different runes in hopes that one will give Jayce enough time to save him.

Let’s say he starts with rune A, it doesn’t work so when he’s in the “world rid of humanity’s imperfections” he decides to give him rune B.

Now if it doesn’t work, the Viktor in the past who meets Jayce with rune B becomes the Viktor in the present.

Only problem is new Viktor is here for the first time. He presumably doesn’t have the memories of old Viktor, so how could he know that the rune he decides to try this time isn’t one he’s already tried for example rune A.

How does he know that he’s not already in an endless cycle of going between A and B. Never even trying C.

I believe the only explanation would be that the Arcane is somehow giving him access to all his “past” memories from his past timelines.

Although time doesn’t really work like that. Time is a loop a cycle it doesn’t have an end or a beginning who’s to say that it wouldn’t give him memories of the acceleration rune working.

But I digress since I can’t think of a better solution.

—————————————————————

If anyone actually read it to the end thank you and sorry that it lowkey read more like fanfiction than a theory.

If anybody has literally any other ideas please comment I wanna hear them so bad you don’t even know.

In conclusion going by my theory Jayvik are truly meant to meet in every timeline and Viktor is the direct downfall of Vander and Vanders Zaun. (What a silly guy am I right or am I right)