#and I JUST played through most of the game

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

[heliomanteia]

I'm honestly so glad they introduced a new protagonist. Not just because Rook is a darling, but also because Inquisitor would have been a horrible choice for the story they wrote.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 27: Public Sex

We have another one of these down. I'll probably stop at thirty. Also, Who knew she was so kinky. On another note, I just happened to have these ideas and requests for Dahyun that I really liked. This is probably the last time she appears though.

Length 2K

Dahyun X Mreader

“Let’s play a game!” The girls all knew what that meant. They looked at each other, wondering what the game would be this time. Sana always wanted to play dirty games when the group had finished off bottles of alcohol. Sana giggled as she placed the pirate on the coffee table in front of the group. “The loser has to do what the others say!” Sana didn’t care who lost; she knew she would get something out of it. The other Twice members agreed to play; it was usually fun to see what would happen. Each member took one plastic sword, putting it into the pirate’s barrel, hoping it wouldn’t pop up. Sword after sword went in, and the members were surprised they hadn’t caused the game to end yet. They looked at each other nervously, each member having one sword left. This would be the last round.

Sana went first, whining as she pushed in the sword. After the click, she was slightly disappointed to see the pirate still in the barrel. She wanted to be the loser; she knew the punished member would have the most fun. Momo went next, and the result was much the same, but she was happy not to be the loser. Mina followed, then Nayeon, Jihyo, and Chaeyoung. It came down to the final three: Dahyun, Jeongyeon, and Tzuyu. They stared nervously at the pirate. “Wait!” Sana said, having an idea of how to make it more exciting. “Everyone choose a hole, then we’ll go in order.” Sana’s idea was to have them choose now before the options become limited.  Jeongyeon, Dahyun, and Tzuyu each chose where they would put the sword, holding the tip inside and waiting. Jeongyeon went first, pushing in until she heard the click; she took a deep breath, happy it wasn’t her. Dahyun went next; the loser would be either her or Tzuyu. Pushing the sword in, she held her breath. The toy pirate popped up from the barrel as it clicked, making her the loser. Tzuyu breathed a sigh of relief as the pirate popped up. She wouldn’t be the one to get punished. 

“Dahyun, go wait in the kitchen. We have to decide your punishment.” Sana cheered, happy that the game was finally over. Dahyun hung her head as she walked to the kitchen. The others chatted about what to have the young woman do until they finally came to a decision. Once they called her back, Dahyun looked around, hoping her punishment wouldn’t be too rough. “Jihyo, do you want to tell Dahyun her punishment?”

“You should do it; it was your idea.”

“Okay! Dahyun, your punishment is you’re going to have to go outside and have sex with someone!” Sana said, clapping as she announced the punishment. “Isn’t this great you get to have sex!” Dahyun was stunned at the punishment. Truth be told, it wasn’t the worst thing, but she knew how Sana had come up with the idea. The older woman had talked to Dahyun about kinks before and knew Dahyun wanted to try public sex. “Oh! And you have to go out in this!” Sana said, pulling up a large coat and stockings. “You only get to wear this,” Sana giggled. The others laughed, seeing the outfit Dahyun would have to go out in. 

Dahyun whined as she grabbed the lack of clothes, stripped in front of the group, and put on her stockings and coat. She grumbled as she walked through the door and stepped outside the dorm. Walking into the streets, she could feel her phone vibrating as the members texted her to ask if she had found someone yet. It had just been a few minutes. It was like they expected the idol to fuck someone in front of the building. Dahyun’s plan was to go further away and find an alley that would be a more comfortable spot. Once she found one, she waited. She watched people walk by before happening to spot you. You would have to do. “Excuse me!” She called. You turned your head to the voice calling you. Seeing the young woman, you walked over before recognizing her as the idol. “Hi, I need you to do something for me.”

“What do you need?” You ask, eager to help the idol. Dahyun beckons you into the alley, going deep into it so people won’t notice the act that would happen. “Dahyun?” You call as you follow her.

“I just need something really quick.” Dahyun pauses as she turns around, moving her hand between the top of her coat, ready to reveal herself. She was getting wet thinking about what was about to happen. “I want you to fuck me. Can you help me with that?” You’re stunned at the request. You always viewed Dahyun as a pure woman, so to hear her asking for sex so blatantly was unexpected. Seeing your hesitation, Dahyun asks again, layering the lust in her voice. “I just really need a nice hard cock. Can you help me? I’m so horny.”

Dahyun opened her coat, revealing nothing underneath her jacket. Her black stockings fit tightly around her thighs. It was the only thing that she had on. She bit her bottom lip, a sly smile forming as the cold air hit her body. Dahyun's thighs were slick with her juices as she stared at you. As your eyes move from the hard pink nubs on her chest to her puffy lips, you feel your desires for the idol building. The night lights made her slick thighs glisten. She waits with bated breath for you to make a move on her. As you unconsciously reach out for her chest, she pushes it out to meet you. Your hand touches the firm mound, and as you squeeze it, Dahyunletss out a soft moan. Hearing your bias moan because of your touch gets you hard, and Dahyun notices. She slips her jacket off her shoulders, dropping it onto the ground before unbuckling your belt and pushing her hand into your pants. Wrapping her hand around your cock Dahyun licks her lips as her hand begins to move along your shaft. “Thanks for the help. I’ll make sure you feel good, too.”

Dahyun’s delicate fingers have your cock in a soft grip as she pulls it out of your pants. She glances down, sucking in a quick breath as she sees its size. “Oh, it’s so big already. You were thinking some naughty thoughts, weren’t you?” You nod, struggling to get a word out as she rubs the tip of your cock with her thumb. You would’ve never imagined Dahyun to be so  slutty, but here she was proving you wrong. Dahyun pushed herself onto you, continuing to stroke your cock as you groped her breasts, her hard nipples rubbing against your palms. You lean down and steal a kiss from Dahyun. 

You’re surprised to feel her tongue trace your lips but push for more. You explore each other’s mouths as Dahyun coats her hand in your precum. She rubs her legs together, becoming more aroused, her mind filling with thoughts of you stuffing her with your cock in the alley.  Dahyun moves one hand down to her clit, rubbing it softly as she jerks you off with her other hand. “Fuck me already,” she whimpers. 

You press Dahyun against the wall, getting behind her. You rub your cock against her cunt only for a second before ramming your length inside her; she cries out, your cock stretching out her tiny cunt. “Oh fuck!”  You don’t give her any time to adjust; her fleshy walls are squeezing tightly as you thrust deep into her cunt. Dahyun moans freely as you slam yourself against her ass, burying your cock inside her with every thrust. You grip her waist tightly, digging your nails into her pale skin. “Fuck, yes, deeper!” Dahyun moans, grimacing as her body bounces against yours, her tits swinging as another thrust makes you bottom out inside her. You move one hand to her tits, grabbing at them as you fuck the idol. 

Dahyun feels her core tightening; she leans against the wall to support herself as she feels her climax approaching. Just as she was going to say something, Dahyun felt your cum being pumped into her womb. A guttural moan escapes her lips as you trigger her climax. As Dahyun’s body shakes from her climax, you slap her ass, watching the soft flesh jiggle as she cums. You spank her again, leaving a handprint on her pale skin as you finish dumping your cum into her. Dahyun groans, moving a hand to her slit to feel your cum leaking out of her. You pull out of the idol and watch as she brings her fingers to her lips, tasting your cum for herself. The sight of the idol eating your cum turns you on and keeps you hard. 

As Dahyun looks over her shoulder to see you still hard, she smiles. Squatting before you, she takes your cock in her hand again.  You cum flows out of her cunt onto the ground as she strokes your messy cock, coating her hand with your cum. She drags her tongue along her palm, moaning as she tastes your salty cum again. “Let me clean you up. I can’t leave such a good cock messy.” Dahyun rubs your cum coated cock against her lips, staining them before she swallows the head. Dahyun moaned around your cock, bobbing her head slowly so her tongue could work around the shaft. You moan loudly, reveling in the feeling of her tongue lapping at the tip as she stops to focus on the head. You place your hand on Dahyun’s head, moving her from the tip to the base of your cock. You felt her lips against your pelvis as your cock hit the back of her throat. Dahyun doesn’t mind the roughness; she was actually enjoying the way you were treating her. As you let her go, she pops you out of her mouth, slapping her cheeks with your cock as she says, “Face fuck me. I’m all yours; treat me like the slut I am.” You’re stunned by Dahyun. You didn’t know what to do for a second but quickly settled on doing your worst to her. You would never get another chance to fuck the idol. 

You hold Dahyun’s head in place as you thrust into her mouth, plugging the hole with your cock as you keep it buried inside her throat for a few seconds before thrusting again. You enjoy every moment of her throat tightening around you. You knew you weren’t going to last long, but that didn’t matter; you were going to fuck Dahyun’s face. Dahyun’s face becomes a mess as time goes on. Saliva coats her chin as it runs down from her lips. Her make-up is ruined, mascara running down her cheeks as her eyes water. “I’m going to cum,” you groan as your thrusts turn wild. You pull out just as you cum, spurting your semen onto the idol's face. Your cum paints her face and lands on her hair. Dahyun sticks her tongue out, getting a few drops on it. She gleefully swallows them. You back up and take good luck at the messy idol. Dahyun’s body was sweaty; her hair was matted. Your cum hadn’t only stained her face but had managed to get onto her body. Cum still dripped out of her cunt. You thank Dahyun for the experience, bowing before you leave. Dahyun stayed in the same place, cleaning the cum from her body before grabbing her coat and walking back to the dorms, cum still on her face as she did so. 

The girls cheered for their members as she walked through the door. Dahyun had a tired smile on her face as she took off the coat and laid back on the couch, letting Sana clean out her cunt as she asked questions about her experience. The others pointed and laughed as they heard the story.

[spicy-apple-pie]

Sometimes I think that there’s such a bad storm in Gotham that Bruce can’t go out. Like he can’t see one foot in front of him and will/has crash the Batmobile. So unless there’s something big happening, going out just does more harm than good.

Damian doesn’t seem to understand this. He huffs and whines and criticizes. Now all of his kids have complained about not going out on nights like this, but he doesn’t think they were this upset.

It’s just them and Alfred in the Manor tonight. Perhaps it’s time for some much needed father son bonding.

They start out with a game of chess. They play a couple of rounds, Bruce winning most of them. However they’re pretty evenly matched. Damian makes him talk through his strategy to see where he went wrong.

Eventually they decide to quit and watch a movie or something. They settle on a wildlife documentary that follows a young cheetah going out on her own for the first time. As Bruce predicted, Damian falls asleep before the documentary is over. They finish out the movie and Bruce waits for a bit before gently picking Damian up and taking him to bed.

Damian is a light sleeper, he has to be. And even though Bruce could've probably moved any other child without waking them up, unfortunately it's not true for his son. Luckily, Damian is curious as to what his father is doing when he thinks that Damian is asleep. Although he wouldn't allow it otherwise, he lets himself be carried to bed and tucked it. Even as Bruce leans down and kisses his forehead.

[be4chywritez]

shot to the heart (and the nose) | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

You come home from college and Luke is smitten...maybe a little too smitten

beachy’s masterlist🐚

requests are open!

part two!

Growing up next door to the Hughes family meant one thing—hockey was a religion.

It was loud, it was competitive, and it was everywhere. If the Hughes brothers weren’t on the ice, they were playing in the driveway, tracking in mud from the lake, or tossing pucks against the garage door until Ellen threatened to take their sticks away.

And you?

You were the neighbor kid. Not quite in the mix, but not completely out of it either.

Your families were close—vacations together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas parties in the winter. You and the Hughes boys had spent years at each other’s birthday parties, running through sprinklers, roasting marshmallows, and competing over who could eat the most popsicles before Jim made you all go inside.

But if hockey was the Hughes brothers’ thing, quiet was yours.

Luke, in particular, had always been the opposite of quiet. He was the one making up rules for backyard games, the one yelling over everyone else, the one who would get so frustrated when you’d rather sit and watch than dive into the chaos.

He never bullied you for it, not in the way other kids might have, but he pushed—nudging you toward the action, insisting you could keep up, making sure you weren’t left out.

Jack and Quinn weren’t much different. Jack, the natural show-off, would always try to impress you (even if you weren’t watching), and Quinn, forever the responsible older brother, would make sure you didn’t get completely trampled by their energy.

Then, of course, you all grew up.

You spent high school buried in books and extracurriculars, aiming for an Ivy League acceptance letter. Luke spent it on the ice, chasing the NHL dream.

By senior year, your friendship had faded into nothing more than polite nods and see you at Christmas waves across the room.

And then you left for college.

Luke got drafted.

Life moved on.

Coming home after months at school was weird.

The air smelled the same, the roads felt the same, but you didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was the time away, or maybe it was the fact that being home again made you realize just how much things had changed.

The car rumbled up your street, your mom chatting about how good it is to have you back while you stared out the window.

And across the driveway, in the Hughes' kitchen, three heads turned in unison.

Jack was the first to react. He dropped his sandwich. Fully dropped it. “Holy shit.”

Quinn, still chewing, furrowed his brows. “What?”

Luke didn’t say anything, just stared.

Because there you were, climbing out of the car—same face, same features, but different.

College had done something to you. Or maybe you’d just grown into yourself.

Jack nudged Luke’s arm, grinning. “Dude. You seeing this?”

Luke was seeing it. That was the problem.

You were tan, your hair was different, your shorts were short, and fuck, had your legs always looked like that?

“Oh my god,” Quinn muttered, leaning against the counter. “Luke, close your mouth.”

Luke snapped his mouth shut, scowling. “Shut up.”

Jack just smirked. “Bet she still won’t talk to you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

A few days later, you were walking up your driveway when you spotted Luke in his front yard.

He had his shirt on this time (unfortunately so) wearing a Team USA tee with the sleeves cut off, and ripping shots into the net with a ridiculous amount of force.

You should’ve known better.

Really, you should have known better.

Because one second, he was shooting.

And the next—

Crack.

Right to the face.

“Holy shit!”

Luke dropped his stick so fast it clattered against the pavement. In seconds, he was in front of you, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I didn’t see you,” he rambled, eyes darting between your nose and your expression. “Are you—holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your face. “Luke. What the fuck.”

“I swear I didn’t see you—”

“No shit.”

Luke winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” He ripped his shirt off in one smooth motion, bunching it up before carefully pressing it against your nose. “Here, hold this.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Sacrificed my shirt for you? Yeah.”

“Oh, so chivalrous.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, tilting your chin up slightly to examine the damage. His hands were warm, calloused from years of hockey, and being this close to him was… distracting.

His eyes flickered over your face, studying you.

“You look… different,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “So do you.”

Luke smirked. “Yeah?”

And that was when you realized—he was still holding your chin.

And smiling at you.

And looking so unfairly good doing it.

You exhaled sharply. “Quit smiling at me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I feel weird.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

His grin widened, slow and lazy. “Huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. “Just thinking I should smile at you more often.”

You groaned, shoving his chest. “Oh my god.”

Luke just laughed, but then his expression sobered. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Mom’ll kill me if I leave you out here bleeding.”

Before Luke could even pull you up, the door to the Hughes house slammed open.

Jack and Quinn came speed-walking—borderline running—toward you, eyes bouncing between Luke, you, and the blood dripping down your face.

Jack, of course, spoke first.

“Oh my god, did Luke hit you?”

You groaned, still pressing Luke’s (formerly white) Team USA shirt to your nose. “You say that like he didn’t just slapshot a puck into my face.”

Quinn sighed, looking so unimpressed. “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke, still crouched next to you, lifted his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t see her! I was just—”

Jack cackled, pointing at Luke like he’d just won the lottery. “You obliterated her!”

“Jack,” you deadpanned. “Not helping.”

Jack waved you off. “No, no, because this is insane. You come back from college looking totally different, and the second Luke sees you, he shoots his shot—literally.”

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack, I swear to—”

Jack ignored him. “I mean, I knew he was gonna lose it when he saw you again, but this—this is next level.”

Luke shoved him. “Can you shut up?”

Quinn, ever the responsible older brother, rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s get her inside before she passes out in our driveway.”

Jack smirked. “Or before Luke confesses his love again.”

Luke shoved him harder.

You just sighed.

The moment you stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of the Hughes home hit you—laundry detergent, whatever Quinn had been cooking earlier, and a faint trace of hockey gear.

And then—

“Oh my god!”

Ellen practically flew down the stairs, eyes zeroing in on your face.

Jim followed behind her, frowning. “Jesus, what happened?”

Jack, still very much enjoying the situation, grinned. “Oh, you know. Luke saw her for the first time in, like, a year and immediately tried to take her out.”

Luke groaned. “That is not what happened.”

Ellen, ignoring them, cupped your face as gently as she could, careful not to touch your nose. “Sweetheart, oh my gosh! You’re hurt!”

Jack, ever the instigator, added, “She is hurt, but also—she looks amazing, right?”

Ellen’s eyes flickered over your face—well, the parts of it that weren’t covered in blood—and beamed. “Oh, honey, you are stunning! Look at you! College has done wonders for you.”

You blinked. “Uh—”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Ellen, she’s bleeding.”

Ellen waved him off. “Yes, yes, I see that, but look at how grown up she is!” She turned to Quinn. “Quinn, tell me she doesn’t look gorgeous.”

Quinn, handing Luke an ice pack, huffed out a laugh. “She does.”

Jack smirked. “Luke sure thinks so.”

Luke whipped around. “Jack, I will actually—”

Jim chuckled, finally stepping in. “Alright, El, let’s fix her up before we start matchmaking.”

Luke, still looking like he desperately wanted to disappear, guided you to the kitchen table and sat you down. “Okay, let me—uh—yeah, just—” He fumbled with the ice pack, hands slightly shaky.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Just—quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Luke exhaled sharply. “Like that.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

Jack howled. Quinn raised his eyebrows.

Ellen gasped like this was the best news she had heard all day.

Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

Luke groaned.

And you?

You just smiled.

It was going to be a great summer.

part two!

[angelsndragons]

so my forever gm needed a break. given that this was my only in-person game and i wanted to retain that connection to my community, i volunteered to run the next campaign so she could take a break and just enjoy playing.

i decided to go with a module i knew, having been a pc in it a few years prior: storm king's thunder. i took her copy of the book and started reading.

and nearly threw it through a window in frustration.

for those of you who don't know, the core giant races in the book are very star trek hat-esque. they have Their Thing and that's it. almost all of the giant npcs are evil and out to destroy the world of smallfolk using their delegated hats. there was a shakespearean drama happening at certain points behind the scenes but nothing else in the book supported that level of complexity with the giants or with the scripted encounters in the book. okay so you're telling me a small goblin tribe has holed up in a cave system and when a bunch of villagers flee into said cave, they...take them all prisoner and go raid their village? after learning that the villagers were fleeing from a giant attack on said village? after learning that most of the guards are still in the village proper, defending the broken keep? really? nah, man, that's just not engaging with the goblins as a culture and people.

i think the worst offenders are the hill giants. they're given heinously low soft stats, are treated as nothing more than glutinous sacks of hit points, and they're the fucking butt of the joke. two hill giants can't navigate their way back to their home base after an attack (meaning that the players can't use said hill giants to scout and find the place either). they're tricked at every interval. the big hill giant plot is for the chief to eat literally any and all food her minions can bring her so that she'll grow to be the biggest giant in existence. yes, she too is treated like the butt of a joke for daring to think that that plan is good or viable. she's so fat (and the book goes into this over and over) that she can no longer walk and the wagon she's seated on is broken and hasn't been repaired. she is in fact so fat and so stupid that she forgets that she has a macguffin the party needs. oh and the book goes into great detail about how slovenly and disgusting her place is and then has the nerve throw in a "overbearing wife beats and bullies her husband" joke in there just to round out the misery. this whole ass culture of bad guys is treated like they are goddamn animals, not people.

needless to say i have chucked a great deal of this. the goblins are practical survivalists (we are small and easily squished, if we can't hide we go along until we can escape) and when ogres and giants moved in, they decided to follow orders to gather food right up until the party gives them a legitimate out. thanks to their intervention, this group of goblins are off the board as future enemies and will in fact be appearing as occasional help (one of my players decided they liked the goblins so much that they created a new character to be from that group).

the hill giants now have traditions surrounding food preparation and preservation that go back thousands of years and much of the small folk's current tech in that department is based off of hill giant innovations, which the party is learning about. their ancestors sleep in the hilly regions of the world, growing and growing together, their sometimes living bodies make up the very ground that the small folk walk on and find nourishment from. the hill giants, along with their stone and cloud brethren, are the only giants who remember that giants become one with the land. one amongst many slowly dying giant races and they choose to, well, not embrace it but find peace in it. they're still gullible and still view size as incredibly important but one's skill in the culinary arts can propel them to leadership. chief guh is a culinary visionary who perfected the art of preparing dragon meat and as giants and dragons are enemies beyond memory, that is quite the feat. will the party come to blows with her? i mean, maybe. but at least she and her people won't end up as 'dumb, slow, fat' person jokes.

framing is so important you guys. it's work but it is so worth it. i had my players spitting nails at the racist, isolationist elves whom the village the party was helping were counting on for survival. i had them tearing up as they decided to knowingly walk a group of orcs to their deaths at the hands of the racist, isolationist elves because it was the only way the elves would agree to supply the village through a brutal winter after the village lost everything. one elf, just one, was curious, if completely incorrect, about the outside world and mostly respectful to the pcs. one of the players is now penpals with him and has sent him a history of the sword coast he otherwise doesn't have access to because his people Do Not Care about the world beyond their borders. the campaign is richer for delving deeper into these cultures and people

Putting all tabletop players into a college level ethics class and forcing them to turn in a paper on moral philosophy before buying a new book

[bunny-jpeg]

hiii first I would like to say that I LOVE your writing and I was wondering if you could do smth with Lando. This is quite a long order so you can pick and chose what you would like.

dark hot chocolate

milkshake

a vodka shot

spicy upside down cake

crème caramel

hot cross buns

bakery menu

thank you so much for the order! i've been really getting back into doing these bakery orders, so it's been fun working through the requests i've gotten! i always love doing a good lando fic, the fans i get in my inbox always have some of the most creative prompts i've ever seen so thank you! i hope you love this!

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught." + crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" + hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." + dark hot chocolate: sub!reader + milkshake: size kink + a vodka shot: rough sex served by lando norris (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, rough sex, size kink, sub!reader, semi-public sex, brattiness, dirty talk & degrading language, filthy (!!)

lando norris loved a good brat. he loved when a girl thought she could snap at him. it was cute, and it got him hard. cute things with pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes, crossed arms that framed perfect, fat tits. drew him in and made his jeans tight.

nothing like fucking a brat back into submission.

so after being put through the ringer in silverstone, lando couldn't help himself. especially when you said his favourite word in a venomous tone, "no."

you ended up in his driver's room with his hands up the back of your t-shirt and he near slammed the door with his foot. he was moving you like a puppet. you weren't going anywhere too far, too fast. he kissed the nape of your neck and loved the feeling of his hands on your soft skin.

"oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" he teased as he rubbed the front of his jeans up against your behind, "tell me no and then expect to skitter off. you wouldn't get far and you know that. should've chased you through the garage and fucked that pretty pussy of yours over my car. rub those tits of your raw up against it." he was panting already, turned on by how deep his want was for you.

"lando." you whined and you ended up over the couch. your cheek almost pressed against the wall behind it. your knees on the cushion and your round behind on display for him. you crumbled so easily, it was cute.

lando licked his lips and admired you. the shape of you, the feel of you, how hot your skin got when you were turned on. made his cock throb in his jeans. he didn't take him the victory this weekend, but he was going to take your pussy. which was almost as good as a trophy.

"get undressed or else you'll be leaving for the car in a lot less clothes." he remarked, "but i'd be you love that, huh? bare tits out across the paddock, covered in my bite marks. because you're just a little slut aren't you?"he noticed you covering your face with your hands, "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." he then grabbed your roughly and got your ass on the cushion your legs spread open as you forced yourself to hold onto the couch.

you looked beautiful.

"strip or it becomes shreds." lando said as he grasped his cock through his jeans, "and don't hide your face, got it?" he was dominating, putting you in your place. and it made you heavily aroused. and he knew it. he knew that you were a sick puppy that way.

you quickly got out of all of your clothes, you were left naked. lando preferred when you were naked, even in cases where you could be easily caught. he was certain that if someone caught sight of your bare tits while you rode him, you'd cum on the spot. dirty girl.

lando kept most of his clothes on, didn't need his round ass to be on the cover of most major sports papers tomorrow. he crowded in your space and braced his hands over the top of the couch, on either side of your head. he watched you swallow and he grinned like a wolf. "pretty little thing." he said, "see, things are much easier when you drop the bratty-act."

"i thought you loved a challenge." you remarked as you looked at him with a cute little wink. it only pulled lando in and he stroked his cock at the sight of your cute figure. you really were something else. naked on the couch, your breasts and cunt on full display for him. and yet, you remain defiant.

"i do, but i also love girls who know when to shut up and take it." he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and he chuckled lowly, "let's play a game: don't get caught. think you can do that? keep that whore mouth quiet while i fuck you?" he pushed to the base and shakily exhaled. he felt a stir in his gut while he admired you.

you felt hot all over a she started to move against you. your body didn't feel like your own, you were under lando's spell as he fucked you. you tensed up around him as you kept your legs open for him. there was something that ran hot through you. it wasn't fair, he made you a panting dog for him.

"a real bitch in heat, huh?" he chuckled lowly as he continued to move against you. he pressed into you harder, "pretty eye though, gotta keep them interested somehow. or else they'll hit and leave." he continued to move against you. his thrusts made you see stars. who allowed for him to be this hot. this painfully good at making you moan.

you let out a whine and he gave you a firm pat on the cheek, he'd never harm you. he'd just make his presence known, after all he was your boyfriend, your love, your dominant in your life. he was rough, but not abusive. he made you squirm and enjoyed the feeling of you under him. on the stupid couch they gave him, fucking tomorrow out of you.

there was something about him. the way he carried himself, the way he moved through your space. he wasn't like others, he was like no man you had been with before. he made you pant. whine and more of all, cum at the feeling of his cock inside of you. he could work with what he had and it often made you moaning with heated pleasure.

he looked at you, he kept his eyes on you as he fucked up into you. he held onto the couch while he thrusted up into you. he kept his expressions under control while your face displayed all the feelings of pleasure he was giving you. he loved how you looked, he made you feel heaven, why not enjoy it too?

"please, lando. fuck, i love you."

"and i love you, baby. look at you, you take my cock like a champ. can you believe it? i guess you put your money where your mouth is, silly little slut." he licked his lips as he continued to move against you. his thrusts were heavy and they left a certain cloudiness in his brain as he fucked the daylights out of you. you were a slut for him and he loved that, he loved that he could bend, twist and fuck you however he saw fit. it was a good feeling in his soul as he rutted against you.

he knew that you loved him, you loved him as deep as veins ran deep in the body. he knew you were needy for him, you yearned for his heavy cock inside of you. his breathing was heavy in your ear as eh moved against you, the feel was overwhelming and you tried so hard to keep quiet. you didn't want to be the front page tomorrow because your boyfriend decided to fuck you until you saw stars.

"that's it, baby." he said as he thrusted up into you, "you feel amazing. all mine, who let you feel this good. you got a pussy most would die for." his pace continued, "i need you beautiful, always in my heart as i ruin your fucking pussy." his words were heated as he fucked you. there was little time for tenderness as he ravaged you.

you kept your tone quiet as you held onto him, letting him fuck your sweet cunt. it was hard to keep quiet with the pace so quick and so erotic that it left your core quivering for him. you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

"gonna behave for me now, be a good girl for me?" he asked as he held your throat. he didn't choke you, he held you so you'd keep your eyes on him. as he continued to rut against you, the feeling was hot, the weight of his hand against you as he made your core flutter around him.

you nodded dumbly, not much else to say as he fucked you with a heated want. you reached out for him and clung to his t-shirt while you climaxed around his cock. you squeezed around him, eyes shut and held onto him tightly. he continued to fuck you, he fucked you through you orgasm and only grinned at the blissed out expression you had. you looked like a total dream, even in the heat of climax. he kissed your neck and fucked you roughly.

he was in total control and he felt the fire in his core as he moved against you. your wetness stained the front of his jeans, which only spurred him on to make you a panting, whiny mess. he eventually shut you up with a heated kiss and kept you pinned to the couch by your shoulders.

he was going to fuck the brattiness out of you, and with a few more heavy strokes of his hips he finished inside of you. he watched your eyes flutter close for a moment before you loosely held onto him. it was erotic to see you in a state of total bliss as he came. you two fit together beautifully and lando couldn't help but kiss your neck as he moved against you slower and let himself feel your entire body.

hands trailed across your sides before he held you hips tightly and pulled out of your cunt. he looked at you and exhaled deeply against your neck, "beautiful." he said with much more tenderness.

he looked at his soft cock and then to you. he then asked as he admired your messy expression. you were all blissed out from him. he patted your thigh and said, "now be a good girl and get dressed. you can louder in the hotel." <3

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[jungwnies]

ENHYPEN | valentines day

୨ৎ : featuring : enhypen (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, & ni-ki) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : spending valentines day with your en- boyfriend ୨ৎ : pairing : bf!en- x gn!reader

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : slight suggestive for some members ୨ৎ : word count : 4181

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy valentines day to everyone! <3 (i can't like, riki's is definitely my favorite...)

이희승 ʚ・lee heeseung

the first thing you felt on valentine's morning was warmth.

not from the sun filtering through the curtains, but from the arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you from moving. and then, his voice. low, groggy, and already laced with teasing.

“morning, baby,” heeseung mumbled, lips brushing against the side of your neck.

you groaned, turning your face into the pillow. “too early, hee.”

“it’s never too early,” he murmured, pressing slow, lazy kisses along your skin. “especially not on valentine’s day.”

you huffed, already feeling heat creep up your neck. heeseung always started the morning like this—shameless, suggestive, and completely in love with making you flustered.

“you’re impossible.”

“i prefer irresistible,” he grinned, rolling onto his side so he could look at you properly. his hair was tousled from sleep, his eyes still heavy-lidded but filled with mischief. “and you love me for it.”

you sighed dramatically, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “unfortunately.”

heeseung let out a soft chuckle before leaning in, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“happy valentine’s day,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours.

and just like that, the day officially began.

by the time you finally got out of bed, heeseung had already slipped into sweetest boyfriend mode.

breakfast was set up with all your favorites, music played softly in the background, and, most importantly, his phone was nowhere in sight.

“no gaming today?” you teased as you sat down.

he scoffed, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “nope. i’m in full boyfriend mode.”

you raised an eyebrow. “that so?”

“mhm.” he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand, eyes locked on you. “and i take my job very seriously.”

the rest of the day was effortless. a walk through the city, his hand finding yours every chance he got. him sneaking pictures of you when you weren’t looking, then pretending he wasn’t just caught. constant teasing, constant laughter, and an absurd amount of flirting.

“babe, you look so good today.”

“i look the same as i always do.”

“exactly. which means you look good every day.”

you rolled your eyes, pretending not to enjoy it. but he saw right through you. he always did.

that night, he took you to a rooftop restaurant, the city glowing beneath you. for once, he was quiet, his usual playfulness replaced with something softer.

you reached for his hand. “what’s on your mind?”

heeseung exhaled, rubbing slow circles on your palm with his thumb. “just thinking about how lucky i am.”

your breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice.

“i know i joke around a lot,” he continued, his eyes locked onto yours. “but i never want you to think i don’t take us seriously. you mean everything to me.”

your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you like a slow burn. “you’re such a sap,” you whispered, smiling.

“only for you, baby.”

you lifted his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

heeseung groaned, running his free hand down his face. “you know what that does to me.”

you tilted your head innocently. “what?”

his fingers tightened around yours as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch.

“lucky for you,” he murmured, “we still have the rest of the night.”

박종성 ʚ・park jongseong

the first thing you noticed when you woke up was the scent of fresh flowers. roses, lilies, and orchids were carefully arranged on the nightstand beside you. a small card rested against the vase, jay’s familiar handwriting standing out against the crisp white paper.

"good morning, love. happy valentine’s day. take your time waking up. breakfast is waiting when you are ready. see you soon. yours, jay."

you smiled as warmth spread through your chest. the sound of waves outside the villa reminded you of where you were. cebu, philippines. a place you had planned to visit together, not as a surprise, but as the perfect valentine’s getaway. and knowing jay, he had planned everything down to the last detail.

by the time you stepped outside onto the villa’s terrace, the salty breeze wrapped around you, carrying the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore. jay stood by the breakfast table, dressed casually in a linen shirt and shorts. his sunglasses were lazily perched on his head, and when he saw you, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“there you are,” he said, setting his coffee down. “i was going to come wake you up myself.”

you crossed your arms, tilting your head. “you would have been dragged into bed with me.”

his laugh was low and amused. “you say that like it would be a problem.”

rolling your eyes, you settled into the chair he pulled out for you. the table was filled with fresh fruit, warm pastries, and local delicacies. jay reached for a mango slice and held it up to your lips with a smirk.

“eat,” he instructed.

you took a bite, humming in approval as the sweet flavor melted on your tongue. “this is amazing.”

he grinned, watching you. “i know. only the best for my favorite person.”

after breakfast, jay led you to a private boat waiting to take you to a hidden lagoon. the ride was smooth, the ocean stretching endlessly around you. he kept close, his fingers brushing yours, his presence steady and warm.

at one point, he leaned in with a teasing grin. “wouldn’t this be a perfect place for a kiss?”

you raised an eyebrow. “are you asking or telling?”

he smirked before pulling you in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. when he pulled away, he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

the day passed effortlessly. snorkeling in crystal-clear water, exploring caves, and chasing each other through the shallow surf. jay made sure you were never too far from him, always finding an excuse to hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist, or press a kiss to your temple when he thought you were too distracted to catch him.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, jay brought you back to the villa, though instead of heading inside, he led you to a secluded setup on the beach. a small dining table sat in the sand, surrounded by glowing lanterns and plush cushions. the waves provided a soothing soundtrack as candlelight flickered in the breeze.

“you did all this?” you asked, eyes wide.

jay smiled, taking your hand as he guided you to sit. “you deserve a perfect night.”

dinner was slow and intimate, filled with quiet laughter and soft touches. jay stole food from your plate more times than necessary, but you let it slide, especially when he would reach for your hand right after, lacing his fingers with yours as if he needed to be close to you.

“you really went all out,” you said, watching him as he poured you another glass of wine.

he met your gaze, something softer settling in his eyes. “of course i did. it’s you.”

your breath caught at the weight behind his words.

he smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “i’m already thinking about next year.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “we haven’t even finished tonight.”

his fingers traced along the back of your hand. “that’s the best part.”

the sound of the ocean filled the space between you as the night stretched on. jay pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the waves kissed the shore. he pressed his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“stay here with me. no plans. just us.”

you nodded, resting against him as the stars glowed above. in that moment, nothing else mattered except being here, in his arms, exactly where you were meant to be.

심재윤 ʚ・sim jaeyun

jake had asked you to be his valentine a week ago.

it was the kind of thing that made your heart flutter. he could have assumed, could have just surprised you on the day, but no. he had asked properly, standing in front of you with that warm, boyish smile and hopeful eyes.

“i mean, i know we’re together,” he had said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but i still wanted to ask. so… will you be my valentine?”

like you could ever say no to him.

valentine’s day arrived with jake at your door, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bright smile.

“happy valentine’s day,” he said, eyes shining as he handed them to you. “and before you say anything, yes, there’s more.”

you laughed, letting him inside as he placed a carefully wrapped gift bag on the table. his excitement was contagious, the way he bounced slightly on his feet, waiting for you to open it.

inside, you found your favorite snacks, little things that reminded you of him, and a small box tucked neatly at the bottom. you glanced up at him, and he simply grinned.

“open it,” he urged, practically buzzing with anticipation.

lifting the lid, you found a delicate bracelet resting inside. it was simple but beautiful, something timeless that you could wear every day. your fingers brushed over it before looking back up at jake, who was watching you nervously.

“i wanted to get you something you could keep forever,” he said softly. “something to remind you that i’ll always be here.”

your heart squeezed at his words. he was always like this, always so thoughtful in the ways he loved you.

you smiled, eyes soft. “jake, this is perfect.”

relief washed over his face before he took the bracelet from the box, reaching for your wrist. as he clasped it carefully, his fingers lingered against your skin.

“there,” he said, his voice quieter now. “now you have a piece of me with you all the time.”

you looked down at the bracelet, then back at him, warmth spreading through your chest.

“i don’t need a bracelet to remind me of you,” you murmured. “you’re kind of hard to forget.”

jake laughed, cheeks tinged pink. “that’s good, because i plan on being around for a long time.”

you didn’t doubt that for a second.

the rest of the evening was spent wrapped in the warmth of each other. he had planned a cozy night in, just the two of you, eating your favorite food and watching a movie that neither of you paid much attention to. at some point, you ended up curled against him, his arm draped around you as his fingers traced light circles on your arm.

“you know,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head, “i don’t think one day is enough to show you how much i love you.”

you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “no?”

he shook his head, smiling softly. “no. so let’s make every day feel like this.”

and as you sat there, completely wrapped up in him, you realized there was nothing else you would ever need.

because jake would always be yours.

박성훈 ʚ・park sunghoon

sunghoon had never really cared about valentine’s day.

it had always been just another date on the calendar, a day where couples exchanged gifts and grand gestures, something he had never personally been part of. until now.

until you.

which was exactly why he had been fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater for the past five minutes, trying to act normal as you sat beside him on the couch, completely unaware of the way his heart was racing.

earlier that day, sunghoon had shown up at your place, carrying a bag filled with snacks, takeout from your favorite restaurant, and a small, neatly wrapped gift. he had spent too much time picking it out, pacing through the store until he found something he hoped you would love.

when you opened the door, he hesitated for a second before finally speaking. “happy valentine’s day.”

you smiled, stepping aside to let him in. “happy valentine’s day, hoon.”

he cleared his throat, glancing down at the bag in his hands. “i, um… i got you something. it’s not much, but…”

before he could finish, you took the bag from him, peeking inside with a soft expression. “you got my favorite food?”

he shrugged, shifting on his feet. “yeah, well… i know you like it, so…”

your heart melted at the small gesture. “that’s really sweet, hoon.”

his ears turned slightly pink, but he tried to brush it off. “it’s nothing.”

now, with dinner finished and the two of you curled up on the couch, sunghoon felt his usual hesitation slip away. it had taken him some time to get used to being affectionate, but when it was just the two of you, away from the eyes of the world, he didn’t have to hold back.

he leaned into your side, resting his head against your shoulder with a soft sigh. his fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your sleeve as he mumbled, “this is nice.”

you smiled, tilting your head slightly to look at him. “yeah? i didn’t take you for a valentine’s day person.”

he huffed, pretending to be indifferent. “i wasn’t. but now… i think i get why people like it.”

you reached up, brushing a hand through his hair gently. he closed his eyes at the touch, relaxing into you.

after a moment, he sat up slightly and reached for the small box he had placed on the table earlier. he handed it to you, avoiding your gaze as he muttered, “i also got you this. it’s not a big deal or anything, but…”

curious, you opened the box to find a delicate necklace resting inside, simple yet beautiful.

you looked at him, touched by the gesture. “hoon, this is perfect.”

he let out a breath he had been holding. “yeah?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

a small, relieved smile tugged at his lips before he reached out, carefully taking the necklace from the box. “let me put it on you.”

as his fingers brushed against your skin while clasping it around your neck, he hesitated for just a second before wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace. his chin rested against your shoulder, his voice softer now.

“thanks for spending today with me,” he murmured. “it… means a lot.”

you turned slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “i wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.”

sunghoon let out a content sigh, holding you even closer.

maybe valentine’s day wasn’t so bad after all.

김선우 ʚ・kim sunoo

the moment you opened your door, you were greeted by the sight of sunoo holding the biggest heart-shaped balloon you had ever seen.

“happy valentine’s day!” he exclaimed, grinning brightly as he bounced on his feet. in his other hand, he held a small gift bag decorated with pastel hearts, and tucked under his arm was a pink plushie in the shape of a bunny.

you blinked, already feeling your heart melt. “sunoo… this is adorable.”

“i know,” he said proudly, stepping inside. “but wait, there’s more! we have a very special valentine’s date planned, so hurry and put on something cute.”

you laughed at his excitement but nodded. “okay, okay, give me five minutes.”

“five minutes?” he pouted, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “that’s like… forever.”

rolling your eyes fondly, you leaned up and kissed his cheek before hurrying to get ready.

a short while later, you found yourself at the cutest little café, one that sunoo had clearly put a lot of thought into choosing. everything was decorated for valentine’s day, from the heart-shaped pastries to the soft pink fairy lights strung across the ceiling.

sunoo clapped his hands together excitedly. “isn’t this place perfect?”

you nodded, already in love with the cozy atmosphere. “you really know how to plan the cutest dates.”

he gave you a smug little smile, resting his chin in his hand. “of course, i do. i have to impress my valentine, after all.”

your heart did a little flip at the way he was looking at you.

when the desserts arrived, sunoo’s entire face lit up. “look at this!” he pointed excitedly at the heart-shaped strawberry shortcake. “it’s almost too cute to eat.”

you grinned. “almost.”

sunoo giggled as he picked up his fork, cutting a small bite before holding it up to your lips. “say ahh~”

you rolled your eyes playfully but let him feed you, the sweetness of the cake nothing compared to the boy in front of you.

“good?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

you nodded, swallowing. “delicious.”

he beamed, taking a bite for himself before humming in approval. “this is the best valentine’s ever.”

“you say that like you’ve had so many,” you teased.

he huffed dramatically. “i haven’t, but this one is special.” his voice softened slightly as he looked at you. “because it’s with you.”

your heart melted on the spot.

sunoo, of course, noticed your reaction and giggled. “did i make you shy? cute.”

you groaned, covering your face as he laughed, reaching over to hold your hand across the table.

after stuffing yourselves with sweets, the two of you walked hand in hand through the city, stopping to look at window displays and snapping cute photos together. sunoo was as affectionate as ever, squeezing your hand and swinging it slightly as he walked.

“i hope today was fun for you,” he said after a while, glancing at you with a small smile.

you squeezed his hand back. “it was perfect.”

he sighed dramatically. “ugh, now i have to make next year even better.”

you laughed. “i have no doubt you’ll manage.”

sunoo grinned, pulling you into a warm hug. “good. because i plan on being your valentine for a long time.”

as you stood there wrapped in his arms, the soft glow of the city lights around you, you couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

양정원 ʚ・yang jungwon

jungwon had planned a simple valentine’s day. nothing too extravagant, just the two of you spending time together. but the second you teased him about being so romantic, he immediately started denying it.

“i just thought it would be nice,” he mumbled, adjusting his scarf as the two of you walked toward seoul tower. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

you smirked. “not a big deal? you literally packed a picnic, booked the perfect spot, and even picked a matching color scheme for our outfits.”

his ears turned pink. “that was an accident.”

“oh? so you just accidentally coordinated us?”

he sighed, clearly regretting every choice he made that led to this moment.

by the time you reached the top of seoul tower, the city stretched below you, lights flickering like tiny stars. jungwon had set up a small picnic on a bench near the railing, complete with snacks and hot drinks to keep you warm.

you nudged him as you sat down. “look at you, mr. romantic.”

jungwon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “i knew i shouldn’t have told you my plan.”

you laughed, leaning against him. “i’m just teasing. this is really sweet.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, his pout still visible. “you’re having fun, though, right?”

you smiled, nodding. “of course. especially because i get to watch you get all shy.”

he huffed, picking up a snack and handing it to you. “eat your food and stop bullying me.”

you grinned but took the snack, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

after finishing the picnic, you both walked over to the love locks, looking at the countless messages couples had written before attaching them to the railing.

jungwon hesitated before pulling out a small lock from his pocket. he looked down at it, then at you, clearing his throat. “i thought… maybe we could put one here too.”

your teasing grin softened as you watched him fidget slightly, his fingers playing with the lock. he had probably debated whether this was too much, but the way he looked at you, eyes filled with quiet affection, made your heart melt.

taking the marker from him, you scribbled both your names on the lock, along with a small doodle. when you handed it back, jungwon smiled before clicking it onto the railing.

“there,” he said, stepping back. “now it’s official.”

you leaned in closer. “does this mean we’re locked in forever?”

jungwon turned red so fast you thought he might explode. “i— i mean— that’s not—”

you laughed, watching him trip over his words. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

he groaned, covering his face again. “you are never letting this go, are you?”

“not a chance.”

despite his embarrassment, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers as you both stood there, looking out over the city. his grip tightened slightly as he whispered, “i wouldn’t want to spend today with anyone else.”

for once, you let him have his moment.

then, after a few seconds, you smirked. “so does that mean you do want to be locked in forever?”

“oh my god.”

西村力 ʚ・nishimura riki

spending valentine’s day with riki meant two things.

one, there was zero chance of having a boring day.

two, there was a very high chance of getting lost at least once.

“i know exactly where we’re going,” riki said confidently as he led you through the bustling streets of tokyo.

“you said that ten minutes ago,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

he waved you off. “that was before i adjusted the route.”

“you mean before you got distracted by that street performer and forgot where we were?”

“… that is completely unrelated.”

you sighed dramatically but followed him anyway, smiling at the way he seemed completely at home in the city. despite the questionable navigation skills, there was something comforting about being with him, watching the way his eyes lit up every time he pointed out a place he loved.

after wandering around for a while (totally not because he lost track of the map again), riki finally took you to a cozy food stall tucked in an alleyway.

“this place has the best takoyaki,” he declared, grabbing a pair of chopsticks before handing you a piece. “try it.”

you took a bite, humming at the flavor. “okay, you were right. this is amazing.”

riki smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “told you. i have exquisite taste.”

you rolled your eyes. “says the guy who still eats instant ramen with chocolate milk.”

“that happened once,” he argued.

“it happened twice.”

“that’s still barely a pattern.”

shaking your head, you handed him a piece of your food. “here, since you’re my tour guide today, i’ll share.”

he grinned before taking the bite straight from your chopsticks. “wow,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “you’re really spoiling me today.”

“don’t get used to it.”

he snorted but nudged your foot under the table anyway, his way of silently saying thank you.

after eating, riki dragged you through different parts of the city, showing you everything from his favorite arcades to the best hidden photo booths. at one point, he stopped in front of a small shop and turned to you with a sheepish grin.

“wait here,” he said before disappearing inside.

a few minutes later, he came back holding a small keychain in the shape of a lucky cat. he held it out to you with a nervous scratch at the back of his neck.

“it’s kinda dumb, but i saw it and thought of you,” he admitted. “you’re like my lucky charm, you know?”

your heart did a full flip.

“riki…” you took the keychain, turning it over in your fingers before looking up at him. “this is actually really sweet.”

he grinned. “i am pretty thoughtful.”

“you’re also a menace.”

“yeah, but i’m your menace.”

you groaned, but he just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he pulled you along.

by the time the day ended, you found yourselves sitting on a bench near the river, watching the city lights flicker across the water.

riki sighed, stretching his legs out before leaning back on his hands. “this was fun.”

you nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. “it really was.”

there was a moment of comfortable silence before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“i’m really glad i got to spend today with you,” he murmured. “i know i joke around a lot, but… you being here means a lot to me.”

you smiled, squeezing his hand. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

he stayed quiet for a second, then smirked. “even when i got us lost?”

you groaned. “don’t remind me.”

he laughed, tilting his head against yours. “okay, okay, next time i’ll actually follow the map.”

you glanced up at him. “promise?”

he pretended to think before grinning. “nope.”

shaking your head, you let out a sigh, but secretly, you wouldn’t change a thing.

lost or not, as long as you were with riki, it was exactly where you wanted to be.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

She folded her hands to hide their shaking. "You can't marry a man you just met," she said. She kept her voice cold, her eyes icy.

The prince didn't flinch. In fact, he even offered a sardonic smile. He had Anna on his arm, the favor of the cabinet, and the love of the kingdom. The queen was merely a pest to squash.

Elsa couldn't breathe as the tension in the room turned sharp. The prince's invisible sword against her throat.

"You can if it's true love!" Anna said.

True love?

Anna knew nothing of it. She knew nothing of the Southern Isles, nothing of the man at her side.

Elsa hadn’t extended an invitation to their kingdom. Of course, though, they’d sent someone anyway. She couldn’t exactly tell them no without confirming what they already knew.

Ladies in long dresses and men in decorated coats spun around them, as though there was nothing wrong at all in the room. Bright music echoed through the ballroom. A steward offered Elsa a flute of some sort of drink.

Bile burned at her throat. She didn't take the flute. This was a game. Perhaps everything in this room was a game, set up by Prince Hans to reveal everything.

He had to know. His kingdom must have briefed him. Why else would he take advantage of her sister? He played the part well, but the coolness of his eyes was what gave him away. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but Elsa had grown skilled in reading people.

He didn't love Anna. He loved the idea of taking the throne and combining their kingdoms into one. He'd have control of the fjords, and that meant control of major trade routes and other kingdoms. He'd have control of Elsa.

His family had already staged the death of her parents. Why not use this chance--the first one in years--to take what they'd been after all this time?

The royal family of the Southern Isles knew of her magic. They'd been waiting for this opportunity since Iduna and Agnarr had died so conveniently in that shipwreck.

So why not send their youngest assassin now? He’d be reckless, perhaps, but he’d also be ruthless. Unyielding.

That’s what scared Elsa the most.

"Anna, what do you know of true love?" she asked softly.

"More than you." Anna stepped back, her cheeks flushing the way they always did when she was upset. "All you know is how to shut people out!"

A few dancers glanced their way.

"You asked for my blessing, and my answer is no. Now,” she steadied her emotions, “excuse me."

“Your Majesty, if I may—” An arm caught hers. His voice tremored slightly. The perfect anxious lover.

Her blood went colder than it already was. “No, you may not. I think you should go.”

A veiled warning, but a warning nonetheless. If he didn’t take it, then it was up to her to decide if she wished to engage him.

He didn’t say a word.

“The party is over, close the gates.”

“Elsa, no, no, wait—” Anna’s voice, her hand on Elsa’s. She turned to admonish her, and her glove came off in her sister’s hand.

Her breath stopped. She tucked her hand behind her, beneath her cloak, nails digging into flesh. If she created even a single snowflake, this carefully crafted illusion would come crashing down. “Give me my glove.”

“Elsa, please. Please.” She clutched the glove between pleading hands. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Her face began to crumple, and tension’s sword was digging into Elsa’s throat as more eyes fixed on the display in the center of the ballroom.

Shut everything out. That’s how she kept things under control. Shut her sister out, and that would protect the both of them. Anna would forget about Hans.

“Then leave.” The facade of indifference began to collapse inside of her as she moved towards the door. Anna stepped back, eyes wide.

“What did I ever do to you?” she snapped.

“Enough, Anna.”

The music had stopped. Everyone was watching now. Too many eyes, too much expectation, too much fear—

“No, why? Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?!”

“I said, enough!” Elsa spun. Anna didn’t know. She didn’t know of the magic, she didn’t know of the pressure, she didn’t know of the prince’s true intentions. If she was so set on naïveté, then—

“Sorcery.”

The sword finally stabbed, blade deep in her chest when the room came back into focus.

Sharp, dangerous icicles—a cage and a defense against those around her. Deadly tips preparing to cut into anyone who dared approach.

Because of her.

Prince Hans caught her eye, approval flashing across his face.

She choked.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t—she couldn’t even think. She shoved the doors open, instead, and ran from it all. Protect Arendelle by protecting it from herself.

Shut everything out, and nothing bad can happen. Conceal it.

Let Hans come after her, and leave Arendelle and her sister alone.

That’s what needed to happen.

You are the elder sibling of the Hero. They want your blessing to marry the Villain they originally set out to destroy; now sitting across from you at the same table.

[rottenherbs]

Frequent Flyer // G.W x healer! Reader

Request: Reader is a nurse at the Hogwarts infirmary and has a crush on George, after all he's always there after his Quidditch games needing to be tended too.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note:!!! George approx. 7th year - 17-18 y/o. Reader is a learning healer, approx 18 years old // first year out of beauxbaton and interning at hogwarts.. hehe okay enjoy

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige

——-

Your first job post grad was probably the best and worst decision you’ve ever made. It was hard being a new healer at Hogwarts, especially because of how close in age you were to the students who needed your help. The younger students had no trouble with you, often imagining you were much older than you were. But the older students didn’t trust your abilities and would frequently ask Madam Pomphrey to double check your elixirs before you could mend their wounds.

She tried to assure you that with time students would learn to trust your skill, but it was agitating and troublesome in how much you were undermined. Luckily during most of the warm months you tended to quidditch mishaps and concussions, while during the colder season it was simple fixes for colds and illness. The repetitive nature of the job soothed your worrisome mind.

Familiar faces made it easier to manage, though you worried immensely for how often they were in the infirmary. One redhead in particular made your days worthwhile, no matter how much pain he was in.

“I just got an owl that George Weasley took a bludger to the shoulder and fell off his broom. Could you make a bed for his arrival?” Madam Pomphrey asked, pulling your attention from the book in your hands.

You tend to spend your free time studying quidditch history. You had not known much about the sport before working at the school, but you quickly learned how dangerous the game had been and the injuries that come from it.

Your time at beauxbaton was often spent in the library, working towards your goal of helping others through potions and spell casting. Healing was your calling, but something about the exhilaration of broom flying interested you as of late -

The doors to the infirmary swung open, banging against the walls loudly. Startled, you turned to see Hagrid holding up George Weasley, a shy smile across his face.

”My apologies’ my apologies’’ Hagrid whispered, turning to see the cracked wall where the door had hit it, his shoulders seething slightly as he inspected the damage. “Aye’ promise I'll fix that. Should I put the boy over here?” He motioned towards a large arm chair just to his left. You shook your head holding your arms out to stop him, motioning over to an open cot at the end of the room. Hagrid nodded his head and followed you silently.

Just before you turned your back, your eyes met with George, a wicked smile plastered against his face as he stayed silent, enjoying the fact that he didn’t have to walk himself up the castle to see you.

George kept his lips sealed until Hagrid left, playing off his pain as he massaged his shoulder roughly, his quidditch uniform smearing the sheets with mud.

“I'll get you something to change out of.” You smiled, looking all over his face and exposed skin to determine how poorly injured he was.

“Awe, don't you like a man in uniform?” George wined, his eyes watching your every move. He couldn't help but admire the difference between you two. The sterile nature of your job, the ironed creases in your skirt and nursing cap, the soft feminine scent of your perfume. He sat in the bed lazily, his legs splayed. He looked at his body, suddenly noticing the dirt and grime that had stained the white sheets, sweat still reminiscent on his cheeks, and grass sticking off of his shoes.

”I like a man that's not soiled by the outside elements.” You chuffed, bending down and retrieving a cotton set of plain pajamas from under the bed, turning to roll a privacy curtain closer.

“I’ll have you know, I clean up quite nicely when I have to.” George smirked, tugging his shin guards off and setting them aside.

“That’ll be the day that pigs fly.” You responded, standing between the gap in the curtains, cocking your head to the side.

“You calling me a pig?” George gasped, his hand holding his chest dramatically. You laughed lightly, closing the curtain and distancing yourself from the boy.

Sometimes it felt insane that you cared for those your age, but it felt good to help nonetheless. You just couldn't help how you felt about them after they left…

After a moment, George cleared his throat loudly, waiting for you to return. You bit your cheek, attempting to clear your mind. It was clear from your first day, you had to be professional at the end of the day, no matter who you were healing.

Opening the curtains, you spotted a large growing bruise on his right shoulder, several cuts and scrapes following across his chest.

“This might be your worst visit yet.” You mumbled, squinting your eyes to get a better look. Your hands lightly touched his arm, his muscles tensing under your fingers. He winced quietly, sucking his teeth and facing the other way. You glanced at him as you pressed, trying to find where it hurt the most.

”I’m sorry, I just need to know if it's out of place.” You spoke, softly lifting and rotating his arm, feeling a slight pop as it moved. George kept his attention away from his injury, having a hard time with the pain. Setting his arm down, you pulled out your wand, his eyes opening wide.

”You’re not hitting me with an unforgivable just yet. I can't be that much of a lost cause.” He smiled, flicking his attention between your ward and your eyes. You rolled your eyes, lighting the tip of your wand silently.

“I just need to look at your pupils.” You cocked your head to the side, holding the wand steadily until he allowed you. George pursed his lips and squinted his eyes, turning his torso slightly to better face you.

”Like usual - Just look in between my eyes for me.” Leaning in, you held your wand close to his face, illuminating his brown iris, flickers of gold and amber as you dictated the light.

“I wouldn’t look anywhere else.” He whispered, your eyes catching his as you inspected his pupils. You felt your heart race, blinking rapidly as you tried to focus.

”You have beautiful eyes.” He whispered as you pulled away your wand, standing up to retrieve his intake sheet.

“And you say that every time.” You replied neutrally.

”It's not my fault they haven’t changed.” He shrugged, leaning back casually. You smiled to yourself, holding the clipboard tightly between your hands.

”We'll do simple healing on your cuts and scrapes, but we will have to put your shoulder back in its socket.”

“That sounds pretty rough, doc.”

”It’ll only be.. an uncomfortable experience.. but over quickly.” You tried to say reassuringly, but George could see right through your lies. It would hurt, that was undeniable.

“Could you hold my hand when you do it.” He asked, his lip pouting every so slightly.

“I can ask Madam Pomphrey to-“ You started, tapping your finger as you thought.

“No! Please.” He shouted, surprising you by his echoed response. You looked at him in imitated shock, mouth agape to his distaste of the idea. Goerge cleared his throat, aware of how loud he actually spoke. “I mean..” he whispered. “She’s a nice lady and all. Just got.. rough hands.” He smiled, his hands twitching slightly.

“You’re a strong boy. You’ll be okay.” You laughed, turning to the drawers that cascaded the walls next to the cot.

Small wooden placards labeled each organized bin for aches and pains, burns and scars, even sneezes and sniffles. Your hands grazed the wall, taking a moment to find the right tube of herbal ointment.

You turned back to face George. His cheeks were reddened lightly, almost visibly hot to the touch and his eyes were unable to meet yours. The energy between you two had changed dramatically in just a few seconds and you were unaware why.

Furrowing your brow, you sat in the chair next to the bed slipping on a pair of gloves. You both sat in silence for a second before you opened the tube and began applying the cream to his chest.

“What's wrong?” You asked softly, watching the ointment setting into the skin and lightening the scars. Goerge huffed, his mind wandering across the room, trying his best to calm his worried mind. How could he tell you he was genuinely scared

“I’ve just never….” He started, pursing his lips tightly. “I've never dislocated anything. Skele-gro is my bread and butter.” He laughed, a shuttered tone following each word. His breath hitched as you kneaded deeper into his skin. His skin prickled where your fingers grazed, the feeling of the ointment soothing along with the warmth of your body so close to his.

“I promise it’ll be okay.” You smiled, peeling your gloves off and tossing them in the bin. Goerge rolled his eyes, and smiled back at you.

“You have to say that to me. It’s your job.” He snorted, trying his best to cover his displeasure of your hands off of his chest. Not only did he miss your touch, but it meant it was time to fix his shoulder.

”My job is to help you.” You teased, standing up and leaving his side. George watched you walk over to Madam Pomphrey, speaking for a moment. He watched as you motioned over towards him, Madam Pomphrey nodding and replying in distinctly. His heart raced in fear, trying his best to distract himself, the inevitable happening anytime soon.

He thought of what you’d wear outside of your job, realizing he had never seen you outside of the hospital wing. What you ate for meals, if you liked the rain or the snow more. If you thought he was annoying or charming. If you liked Scotland more than France. If youd say yes to a date..

His day dreaming was interrupted by the sound of two pairs of shoes tapping against the stone floor. You walked in tandem with Madam Pomphrey towards Goerge, trying to calm your beating heart in the small amount of time it took to get to his bed. You both flanked the sides of the cot, Madam Pomphrey on the side of his injured shoulder and you on the other.

“I’m going to ask you to close your eyes.” She spoke, retrieving her wand from her apron. George shot a scared look at you, his face turning white in fear.

“It’s okay.” You nodded, holding out your hand towards him, inviting him to take it. His eyes softened as he looked down, hesitating before grabbing it tightly. His hand was surprisingly soft, you anticipating a rough calloused grip but enjoyed how warm and tender he held you.

“One.”

”Two.”

”Three!”

[snapscube]

since it seems like you've played through the other cases of DD, how are you feeling about apollo and his character? :0

i have NOT played through all of the DD cases i’m just playing the special episode between 2 and 3 because my research has led me to discover most people consider that the best way to go about it, including claims that the game itself considers turnabout reclaimed as the intended 3rd case in its file system

[sabrinahawthorne]

Let’s Grow the RPG Hobby

Inspired by this post and the conversation surrounding it.

So the RPG world is facing a multitude of interconnected problems. Let’s talk about them, shall we?

---

1: The Problem(s)

Writing this, I find it hard to pinpoint a way to frame the subject of this post as a single thing. But it’s also impossible to treat it as it it’s a collection of separate problems. In reality, the issues facing the indie RPG world are A Hydra; a many-headed conglomeration of related issues, which each require organized, dedicated work to solve. A few examples:

The Normie-Indie Divide

A problem close to my heart, The Normie-Indie Divide describes the gradient between the mainstream of an artistic hobby and the really independent stuff. I compare this to movies a lot, but the more apt analogy is video games. The N-I-D in the videogame industry is so small as to be virtually nonexistent.

We can see this via a number of factors – one example being that the same outlets which cover massive blockbusters & sequels like Assassin’s Creed and God of War, also cover popular indie titles like Celeste and Hollow Knight. Then, freelance journalists who write for those publications (Jacob Geller is an example) go on to cover much smaller games on their own time, and so on. There’s a smooth gradient between the media coverage of the huge stuff, all the way down to a thriving (if still underserved) super-independant industry.

The N-I-D in RPGs feels uncrossable. The most well known RPG is so big it’s currenly riding the high of its second major hollywood adaptation in 20 years, and the second most popular – Vampire the Masquerade – is an unknown even to some indie RPG fans.* This hobby is shockingly impenetrable, even to those of us who spend our days swimming in the deepest end of the pool.

The Supply & Demand Problem

This one’s simple: People are pumping out RPGs by the truckload, and there are just too many! Not only does this make it hard to sift through everything to find the thing you want to read, play, or review, it also makes it nearly impossible to get anyone’s eyeballs on the cool thing you just released!

As others have pointed out, this problem is exacerbated by the fact that relative to some other art media, it’s pretty quick and painless to whip up your own zine or one-pager and publish it on itch. This disincentivises even the most invested of us from looking at a ton of new games, and means that sharing your work can feel like you’re being ignored by a huge crowd.

A Road To Solutions

If all of that is making you feel pretty bad for the future of this medium, you’re not alone. It can feel pretty hopeless facing all of these problems as an indie designer when all the tools you have at your disposal are a tumblr account and a few indie friends to complain to.

But the truth is, I think that this Hydra is eminently slayable. I just don’t think we can do it alone. That in mind, I’ve spent a large portion of my day putting together…

The Call to Action

I think there needs to be organized, persistent effort put into the future of this hobby and this industry, and I think it needs to start the way all good movements do: with a lot of petty, semantic argumentation over definitions and implementation. And to kick things off, here’s my step zero: If you’re reading this post because I’ve tagged you in it (or because I’ve sent you a link to it), my Dms are open. I want to put together a discord group chat† of my peers within RPG tumblr who are invested in tackling The Hydra, such that we can start brainstorming plans of attack to disseminate into the wider community.

The issues I wish to address are these:

The Normie-Indie Divide: How do we go about cultivating a casual audience of indie RPG fans who can bring sustainability and longevity to the industry?

The Supply & Demand Problem: How do we minimize the cognitive load of sorting through the huge volume of work extant in this medium, and more generally encourage peer-to-peer interaction within the community, like news coverage, reviews, and marketing?

The Cognitive Frontload Problem: How do we make it easier to actually engage with a given RPG, considering the amount of cognitive & temporal investment needed? Further, how do we make RPGs, both general and specific, more accessible to readers with a wide variety of abilities, preferences, and available time?

The Insular Community Problem: How do we better connect this hobby with itself, such that it feels a little less like several dozen cliques across 4-6 platforms, and more like the growing, evolving single hobbyist community that it is? Further, how do we make this hobby more accessible to newbies outside the influence of The Hegemons of the Coast?

And more. I’m positive I haven’t thought of everything, and that’s exactly why this needs to be a group effort.

As a last note: Please tag other people! The folks I’ve mentioned here are just those who I personally feel I know well enough to tag; let’s get the rest of the community involved! If you know someone who would be interested who isn’t on tumblr, they can email me: sabrinahawthornegames@proton.me.

*I’m not kidding. Multiple times within the last four months, I’ve introduced VtM to people who I would consider pretty in the sauce of RPGs. I’m talking folks who’ve played Heart: The City Beneath or Wanderhome. It’s bizarre.

†I need to stress that this is only a start. I’m not looking to start a big public discord unless that’s what a group of folks decide is the right call. By “group chat,” I mean “a chat which exists for long enough to hold 1-3 group voice calls to discuss and hash things out, before it’s dissolved in favor of the execution of whatever plans we devise.”

@theresattrpgforthat; @omophagic-beast; @ladytabletop; @rowansender; @monsterfactoryfanfic; @arsene-inc; @toyourstations

[uncleasriel]

I think this illustrates something about the reactionary mind.

The underlying macho bullshit of that old stupid canard about "Hard Men make Good Time, Good Times make Soft Men, Soft Men make Bad Times, Bad Times make Hard Men" is at play here: the assumption is that being able care about your gender or race or disability or class or any other intersectional trait is just something only Decadent Soft People think about because they're too idle and not doing the work of Real People (tm) like backbreaking manual labour or soldiering or other from of Being Professionally Manly And Tough.

In addition to this premise being utterly ahistorical dogshit (too often used by militarist, authoritarian and fascistic pigfuckers to rationalize why they need to take control to make us big and tough again), it's also pathetically oversimplified and fucking factually incorrect. Crossdressing and drag performances were popular among World War 2 troops, and you'd be a fool to consider that this didn't have an impact on folks coming out. Even those that remained closeted were still able to serve defending their country (and all which that entails), and were defended by their comrades when petty bureaucrats tried to use edge-case bullshit to try and deny them what they were owed as veterans.

I pick out the gender stuff because it's the one that most readily pisses off the C.H.U.D.s (don't get girly gay things all over my fantasies!) but things like disability or race or class also factor in just as much. The 1944 Disability Employment Act in Britain was born out of similar conditions, as those getting bodily mutilated in the war were no longer able to serve in the front lines but still could pursue work that could aid in the war effort.

I frame so much of this through 20th century military history because that is what has defined the shape of so much of our adventure fiction, even 80 years after the fact. World War 2 adventure fiction, pulp adventure novels, historical fiction (I'm looking at Robert E. Howard in particular here)... all of it trickles down into the Fantasy Genre as we know it today, especially in the foundational bones of Magic: the Gathering. A lot of the imitators of those works have emerged over the years, and many of them carry on the same thematic assumptions of the genre that thanosisking unwittingly raises in their initial question: why would women/blacks/gays/cripples/etc even fit into those worlds, they're not there in the source material!?

I believe this is just a by-product of folks like OP who don't look at the source fiction and history underlying it in any more than a cursory way. For folks with limited understandings the topic, including themes the ones discussed seem forced. I would encourage these folks to read some Imaro stories or a Jirel of Jhoiry tale - there's a lot more to the genre that actively explores all manner of odd or atypical stories than just the derivatives that have trickled through the corporate publishing houses of the 1990s and onward. I strongly suggest they subscribe to Strange Studies of Strange Stories, and its predecessor H.P. Podcraft - the Weird Tale has a dozen of literary descendants, and they have a much richer history than folks know.

It's fair to quibble about how well some writers handle these themes - folks inexperienced with understanding intersectional matters can be clumsy, and the fact that writing for a corporate entity owned by Hasbro (which has to toe a very particular line called "don't do things that will make shareholders uncomfortable.") But simply barking "there's Forced Woke Diversity In My Wizard Card Game" is the bleating of a black sheep who is best ignored.

With all of the threats to the worlds like Tarkir or Mirrodin or the War of the Spark, wouldn't it be prudent to NOT include anything about race/gender/identity? Nobody was worried about their own gender during WWII because they were worried about survival. I feel it cheapens the threats that characters like Bolas or the Eldrazi present when you stick identity politics like Daretti or Ashiok because those characters seem more occupied with identity than with saving the day.

If you think no one was worried about their gender in World War II, that simply means you’re unaware of history. People will literally put in concentration camps and killed because of it.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinking

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.