#and it’s not like i’ve never had partners

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | proposals

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested) : he surprises you... with a ring.

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive themes ୨ৎ : word count : 4586

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a plead for more fluff, your prayer has been answered!

ʚ・max verstappen

“is it just me, or has max been acting weird lately?” you asked your friend as you absently fiddled with the hem of your jacket in the paddock. max was preparing for qualifying, and despite your effort to focus on the hum of activity around you, your thoughts kept circling back to him.

your friend shot you a curious look. “weird how? do you think he’s hiding something?”

you shrugged, letting out a small laugh to downplay your growing suspicion. “i don’t know… it’s not like he’s being distant or anything. he’s just been—antsy. like he’s waiting for something. it’s weird.”

your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your overthinking. “maybe he is hiding something,” they teased. “or maybe you’re just overanalyzing.”

you huffed out a laugh, but the thought lingered.

later that evening, you met max for dinner at a cozy restaurant tucked away from the usual chaos of race weekends. the two of you had managed to carve out this little slice of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of his career, and you always treasured it.

but tonight, something felt different.

max was his usual self—sweet, attentive, and playful—but there was an edge to him, like he was holding his breath. you’d caught him glancing at you more than usual, his leg bouncing slightly under the table.

you set your glass down and decided to just ask. “alright, max, what’s going on? you’ve been acting—”

before you could finish, the lights in the restaurant suddenly dimmed.

“what the—?” you muttered, looking around in confusion as candles flickered to life on the table.

and then, from the shadows, a few familiar faces emerged—your closest friends, your family, all smiling warmly at you.

your breath caught. “what is happening?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned back to max.

but when your eyes met his, he was no longer sitting. he was kneeling.

“max…” you started, your heart pounding as he smiled up at you, his blue eyes shimmering with emotion.

“let me talk before you say anything,” he said with a soft laugh, his voice slightly shaky but full of warmth. “i know i’ve been weird lately—sorry about that. i’ve just been planning this day over and over in my head. i wanted it to be perfect because…”

he took a deep breath, and you saw the slightest tremor in his hands as he held out a small velvet box. “because i love you more than i can put into words. you’ve changed my life in ways i never thought possible, and i can’t imagine spending another moment without you by my side. so…”

he opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, and your eyes blurred with tears. “will you marry me?”

for a moment, all you could do was stare, your hand covering your mouth as you tried to process everything. and then, in true fashion, you couldn’t help but joke through the overwhelming emotion.

“max, get up. you’re embarrassing me!” you said, laughing through your tears.

he laughed too, his cheeks flushing. “let me finish my speech, will you?”

you nodded, still grinning as he continued.

“i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. you’re my everything. my partner, my best friend, my world. i don’t care if this is embarrassing because i’d embarrass myself a thousand times over if it meant i could call you mine forever.”

his words hit you right in the heart, and by the time he asked again, “so, will you marry me?” you could barely get the words out through your tears.

“yes,” you whispered, then louder, “yes! of course!”

the room erupted into cheers as max stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. he kissed you, softly at first, then with all the love and relief he’d been holding back.

as your friends and family gathered around to congratulate you, max leaned close to whisper in your ear, “i told you i wasn’t being weird for no reason.”

you laughed, leaning your forehead against his. “you’re still a little weird, but i love you anyway.”

and from the way he smiled at you, you knew this was just the beginning of forever.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“let me take you to italy early,” lewis said, his warm brown eyes fixed on you as he tried to convince you. “we can explore the city together before i have to make my debut with ferrari. just us.”

you hesitated, glancing out the window at the familiar, cozy gray skies of home. “but my home is here, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft. “here in the uk.”

lewis reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “i know,” he said, giving you that boyish smile that always made your heart melt. “but this’ll be different. just one week, before the madness starts again. come on, let me steal you away.”

you sighed, knowing full well that he’d already won you over. “alright,” you relented, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but only because it’s you.”

the trip was nothing short of magical.

lewis took you through the heart of italy, weaving through cobblestone streets and picturesque piazzas, his excitement contagious. he made you try every local delicacy, promising it was “for the full experience,” and insisted on taking candid photos of you when you weren’t looking.

midweek, he brought you to the ferrari factory. his face lit up as he showed you around, the glint in his eyes a mix of pride and anticipation. watching him interact with the team, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration for him, knowing how much this new chapter meant to him.

and then came the last night.

lewis had insisted you get your nails done that morning, though he was unusually cryptic about why. “just trust me,” he said with a wink before leaving you to pamper yourself. when you got back to the hotel, you found a stunning dress laid out on the bed, a handwritten note from him resting on top.

“wear this tonight. no questions. xx lewis”

dressed and ready, you stepped into the car he’d arranged, and after a short drive, you arrived at the most breathtaking spot. the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over a lush hillside. string lights twinkled softly above a blanket spread out on the grass, surrounded by candles. a picnic was perfectly arranged, and standing in the middle of it all was lewis, holding your favorite flowers.

“you look stunning,” he said, his voice low and full of admiration as you approached. he kissed your cheek before leading you to sit.

the evening was perfect—good food, laughter, and stories shared as the world seemed to fade away around you. but as the night settled into a quiet calm, lewis stood and gently pulled you to your feet.

your brows furrowed as you looked at him, but before you could say anything, he was already lowering himself onto one knee.

“lewis…” you whispered, your hand flying to your mouth as he pulled a small box from his pocket.

“i’ve been thinking about how to say this for weeks,” he began, his voice steady but full of emotion. “you’ve been my rock, my partner, my everything. through all the highs and lows, you’ve been there, and i don’t know how i ever got this lucky.

“joining ferrari, starting this new chapter—it’s exciting, but none of it matters without you by my side. you make me better in every way, and all i want is to spend the rest of my life with you, sharing every moment, every adventure, every quiet night.”

tears welled in your eyes as he opened the box, revealing a stunning ring that caught the flicker of the candlelight.

“so,” he said, his smile soft and nervous all at once, “will you marry me?”

for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, overwhelmed with love and disbelief. finally, you managed to nod, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking before you said it again, louder this time. “yes, lewis. of course.”

he slipped the ring onto your finger, standing to pull you into his arms as you laughed through your tears. “i love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

and as you looked out over the beautiful italian countryside, wrapped in his arms, you knew this was the start of something even more incredible than you could’ve ever imagined.

ʚ・george russell

“you know,” you said, laughing as you took another bite of your lunch, “my friends keep saying the craziest thing lately.”

george glanced up from his plate, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. “oh? what have they been saying?”

“they keep telling me you’re going to propose to me,” you said, laughing even harder at the thought. “isn’t that wild?”

the laughter caught in your throat when george, mid-bite, choked on his food. his eyes widened slightly as he reached for his water, and you watched him with a raised brow.

“are you okay?” you asked, stifling a laugh.

once he recovered, he looked at you, a little too intently. “i mean… if i were going to propose, would you be mad?”

you tilted your head, smiling softly. “of course not, my love. but you’ve been so busy lately. i know you wouldn’t be planning something like that right now.”

george nodded, his expression unreadable. “right… of course.”

but something in his tone made you pause.

over the next few days, the idea seemed to follow you everywhere. your friends weren’t letting up, either.

“why would he ask you to get your nails done?” one of them asked pointedly.

“and your hair,” another chimed in. “he’s definitely planning something.”

you shook your head, laughing off their theories, though you couldn’t deny the tiniest flicker of curiosity. still, george had been acting a little… shady. subtle, but shady. you chalked it up to his usual busy schedule, brushing off the idea of anything more.

at least, until a few days later.

the beach was stunning, a secluded stretch of soft sand meeting endless waves that shimmered under the setting sun. you’d been surprised when george suggested a quiet getaway, just the two of you. he said it was to relax before the season picked up again, but something about the way he kept fidgeting had your nerves on edge.

as you walked along the shore, the golden light casting an ethereal glow, george suddenly stopped.

“wait,” he said, reaching for your hand.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “what’s up?”

he smiled, a nervous but endearing smile, and before you could ask again, he was down on one knee.

your heart stopped.

“george,” you breathed, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“alright,” he began, grinning up at you. “first off, i have to say, i cannot believe you didn’t catch on. you’re usually much more observant, love.”

your jaw dropped, half in shock and half in amusement. “you’re making fun of me now?”

he laughed, but his expression quickly softened. “i’m serious, though. i’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. you’re my everything—my partner, my best friend, the person i want to spend every moment with. i love you more than i can put into words, and i can’t imagine life without you.”

tears welled in your eyes as he pulled out a small velvet box, revealing a sparkling ring.

“so,” he said, his voice steady and full of emotion, “will you marry me?”

for a moment, you just stared at him, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. finally, you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “yes, george. of course, yes!”

he slipped the ring onto your finger before standing and wrapping you in his arms. you laughed, still in disbelief, as he pressed his lips to yours.

“i can’t believe you,” you said between laughs, your head resting against his chest. “you really planned all of this?”

“i did,” he said, smiling down at you. “and i’d do it a hundred times over just to see that look on your face.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

“hermosa, would you like to go out for dinner on friday?” carlos asked, his voice soft as you stood by the mirror, finishing up your nightly routine.

“dinner? on friday?” you repeated, slipping into bed beside him, a smile tugging at your lips. “i’d love to, amor.”

carlos leaned over, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “perfecto. the season starts soon, and i want to spend as much time as i can with you before it all gets busy again.”

you smiled, feeling your heart melt a little more—like it always did with him.

the days passed quickly, and soon friday arrived.

carlos, as always, had everything meticulously planned. he’d picked out your outfit—a stunning dress in your favorite color—and, true to his usual thoughtful self, made sure his suit coordinated perfectly. if you wore a red dress, carlos would find a way to incorporate red into his look, whether it was his tie, pocket square, or even the lining of his jacket. it was one of those little things that made him so uniquely him.

“you look breathtaking,” he said as he helped you into the car, his eyes filled with nothing but admiration.

“and you match,” you teased, running your hand along his lapel. “as always.”

he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “siempre,” he murmured.

dinner was perfect—an intimate table for two at a beautiful restaurant with warm candlelight and soft music in the background. carlos, ever the gentleman, kept his focus entirely on you, listening intently as you talked and making you laugh with his playful jokes.

but as the evening came to an end, something about his energy shifted. he seemed more nervous than usual, though he tried to play it off.

“let’s take a walk,” he suggested as you both stepped outside.

the air was cool, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the cobblestone street. you didn’t think much of it until carlos suddenly stopped in front of the restaurant, turning to face you.

“carlos?” you asked, confused as he reached for your hands.

his dark eyes met yours, filled with an emotion so raw it took your breath away. “hermosa,” he started, his voice a little unsteady. “there’s something i’ve been wanting to say for a long time now.”

before you could process what was happening, he was down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

gasps and murmurs rose from the small crowd of onlookers nearby, but all you could focus on was him.

“i love you,” carlos said, his voice stronger now, filled with certainty. “i love everything about you—your laugh, your quirks, the way you care so deeply for the people around you. i love how you notice the little things, how you make every day feel special just by being in it. and i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

tears welled in your eyes as he opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled even in the dim light.

“will you marry me?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours.

for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. and then, with a tearful laugh, you nodded.

“yes, carlos,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sure. “of course, yes!”

cheers erupted around you as he slid the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into his arms. he kissed you deeply, his smile pressed against your lips.

“you had one choice,” he teased quietly, a playful glint in his eyes.

“and it was the right one,” you replied, grinning through your tears.

as he held you close, you couldn’t help but think about how every little detail he cared about, every thoughtful gesture, every look, and every word all came together to make this moment so perfectly, beautifully carlos.

ʚ・charles leclerc

“ma chérie, you look beautiful,” charles said with a soft smile as he grabbed your hand and spun you gently, making your dress twirl. he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear before planting a playful kiss on your neck. “but you’d look better with it off,” he teased, his voice low and flirtatious.

your jaw dropped in mock offense as you lightly smacked his chest. “charles!” you laughed, shaking your head. “keep it in your pants, baby.”

he laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled you into his arms. “are you ready to be on the yacht for the first time since we’ve been back in monaco?”

you nodded eagerly, your smile wide. “of course i am. there’s nothing better than being with you on the sea.”

charles smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “je t’aime.”

“i love you too, amore,” you replied softly, leaning into him.

the two of you headed to the yacht, the sun casting a golden glow over the sparkling water. when you arrived, the crew greeted you warmly, and the yacht began to drift away from the dock, leaving monaco’s skyline behind.

charles took your hand, leading you up to the second level. as you stepped onto the deck, you gasped. a beautifully set candlelit table awaited, complete with a chilled bottle of wine and a server standing by. the soft glow of the candles reflected off the water, creating a magical ambiance.

“charles,” you breathed, looking around in awe. “what is this?”

he smiled, his gaze full of adoration. “i thought you deserved to be spoiled, ma chérie. it’s been too long since we’ve had time like this together.”

he pulled out your chair, helping you settle in before taking his own seat across from you.

“charles, this is really beautiful,” you said, your voice full of gratitude.

“anything for you, cherie,” he replied, his accent making the words sound even sweeter.

dinner was perfect, the two of you sharing laughs, stories, and heartfelt conversation. charles seemed especially thoughtful, his gaze lingering on you more than usual.

after the last course, he shifted in his chair, his demeanor becoming more serious yet still soft. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter, “being with you has been the best part of my life. i know i’ve been busy, and sometimes i’m not always there as much as i should be.”

you tilted your head, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “charles, what’s going on?”

he stood up slowly, reaching into his pocket. your heart began to race as he pulled out a small velvet box, his fingers trembling slightly.

“mon amour,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of you.

your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

“i’ve thought about this moment every day,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “i love everything about you—your quirks, the little things you do when you think no one is watching, the way you make me feel like the luckiest man alive just by being by my side. i love your flaws, your strengths, all of it. it’s everything i’ve ever wanted in my life, forever.”

your tears spilled over as he opened the box, revealing a dazzling diamond ring that sparkled even in the candlelight.

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you, cherie. will you marry me?”

for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to speak, your emotions taking over. finally, you nodded, laughing through your tears. “yes, charles. yes, of course!”

the smile that broke across his face was brighter than the stars above as he slipped the ring onto your finger. he stood, pulling you into his arms and kissing you deeply, your tears mixing with his own.

“i love you,” he whispered, holding you close as the yacht gently swayed with the waves.

“i love you too,” you replied, your heart full to bursting.

and as you stood there together, the sea stretching endlessly around you, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—with charles, forever.

ʚ・lando norris

“lando, you’re being so distant. like, what is your issue?” you asked, crossing your arms as you sat in the passenger seat, watching him grip the wheel a little tighter than usual.

“it’s nothing, i promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled. “are you cheating on me?” you blurted out, your voice sharp and accusing.

lando slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over abruptly. he turned to you, his wide eyes filled with disbelief. “cheating on you? are you serious right now?”

“well, then why are you acting so weird!” you fired back, feeling frustration bubble over.

“i’m not cheating on you,” he said firmly. “and stop saying such irrational things before i crash the car!”

you huffed, crossing your arms tighter as he merged back onto the road. the tension hung thick in the air, but there was something about his tone that made you pause—he wasn’t just annoyed; he seemed… nervous.

after a few more silent minutes, the car pulled up to a secluded garden bathed in golden afternoon light. you frowned, glancing around.

“where are we?” you asked, the irritation in your voice softening as you took in the beauty of the place.

lando parked and stepped out, rushing around to open your door. he offered you his hand, and though you hesitated, you took it.

as you stepped into the garden, the feeling in your chest shifted. it was just the two of you—no other people, no distractions. the air was fragrant with blooming flowers, and butterflies flitted lazily in the sunlight.

your stomach fluttered as you glanced at lando, who was unusually quiet. he scratched the back of his neck, his signature nervous tell. that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t just a random outing.

“lando…” you started, your voice softer now.

but before you could finish, he turned to you, his cheeks flushed. “look, i know i’ve been acting weird,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. “and i’m sorry. it’s just… i’ve been planning this for weeks, and i was so nervous i’d mess it up.”

you blinked, your heart pounding as he dropped to one knee, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket.

your hand flew to your mouth as your suspicions were confirmed, and a wave of emotions hit you all at once.

“i love you,” lando began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “more than anything. you’ve been with me through everything—the ups, the downs, the crazy schedules, the late-night arguments about absolutely nothing.” he let out a nervous laugh, and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“you’ve seen the best and the worst of me, and somehow, you still choose to love me. i don’t want to imagine my life without you in it. so, here i am, asking you to make it official.”

he opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.

“will you marry me?” he asked, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.

you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling as you nodded. “yes, of course, yes!”

lando let out a breath he’d clearly been holding, slipping the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a tight hug.

“i can’t believe you thought i was cheating on you,” he teased, his playful smirk returning as he kissed your temple.

“well, you were acting suspicious!” you shot back, laughing through your tears.

he chuckled, holding you close. “yeah, because i was scared out of my mind. do you know how hard it is to hide something this big from you? you’re nosy.”

you swatted at him lightly, grinning. “i’m observant.”

“sure you are,” he teased, leaning down to kiss you again.

and in that quiet, magical garden, with the sunlight casting a golden glow around you, everything felt absolutely perfect.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the great barrier reef had always been a dream of yours—a place you’d talked about endlessly. and, being the proud australian that he was, oscar had promised to take you the moment the season ended. true to his word, here you were, surrounded by vibrant coral and schools of colorful fish, the water shimmering like a painting brought to life.

oscar had gone all out, arranging a private guide and setting up everything to ensure the trip was perfect for just the two of you. it felt special, even more magical than you’d imagined.

after a long snorkeling session with the guide, you emerged from the water, still adjusting your snorkel mask as droplets streamed down your face. you caught sight of oscar standing on the sand, waiting for you.

but something was different.

your heart skipped a beat as you noticed him—barefoot, dressed in a loose white button-up and tailored shorts that made him look effortlessly handsome, his usual chill vibe intact. the sun cast a golden glow over the scene, and your breath caught when you realized he wasn’t just standing there.

he was on one knee.

your hands instinctively went to your snorkel mask as if to tear it off, realizing you were standing there in a dripping swimsuit, goggles pushed awkwardly onto your forehead, and hair probably a complete mess.

“wait… what are you doing?” you stammered, feeling your cheeks burn despite the cool ocean breeze.

oscar grinned, his calm demeanor never faltering. “what does it look like i’m doing?” he teased lightly. “just wait—don’t touch the mask. you look perfect.”

“perfect?” you let out a half-hysterical laugh, glancing down at yourself. “oscar, i look ridiculous!”

but he shook his head, his eyes soft and full of adoration. “no, you don’t. you look like you. authentic. beautiful.” he took a deep breath, his fingers curling tightly around a small box in his hand.

“being with you has made my life so much better,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “you’ve made even the craziest, busiest days feel worth it. and i knew this was where i wanted to do this because it’s so… us. a little chaotic, but amazing.”

tears stung your eyes as the reality of the moment hit you.

“i want to spend my life with you,” oscar continued, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the emotion behind his words. “snorkel masks, messy hair, and all. so… will you marry me?”

you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears, nodding fervently. “yes! of course, yes!”

oscar slipped the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into his arms, the warmth of his embrace grounding you as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions.

“you know,” you sniffled, “i can’t believe you proposed to me when i looked like this.”

oscar chuckled, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “i wanted it to be real. and let’s be honest, you’d never let me live it down if i’d done something boring or predictable.”

“well, you’re right about that,” you teased, your grin wide as you leaned in to kiss him.

“besides,” he added, his tone playful now, “even with a snorkel mask on, you’re still the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing, but you couldn’t deny that this moment, messy and perfectly imperfect, was so perfectly you two.

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

[voxslays]

SMUTTY IN-HO HEADCANNONS

✩ Heavy breeding kink. This man wants someone to carry on his legacy, to carry on the games and be the next frontman—and when he thinks of you, your stomach all swollen from carrying his seed…he can’t help but get hard.

✩ I’ve seen a couple posts stating he’d date a younger woman, which I agree with…but not too much younger. Like maybe 10-12 year age gap at most. He wants someone mature, but a little younger. He doesn’t want you to die before him. He couldn’t handle another loss.

✩ Will bend you over any and every surface. The kitchen counter? Check. His desk? Check. In-ho doesn’t care, as long as you’re comfortable as he takes you from behind.

✩ Loves cockwarming. For him, it’s an anywhere, anytime activity. When he’s sitting in his office doing paperwork for the games? Yep. When he’s sitting in his private suite during the games, when red light, green light is being broadcasted to his TV? Definitely.

✩ He is also a very caring partner, even if it seems the opposite sometimes. He will always put your pleasure above his own. Never coming before you do, and always making sure he has a safeword if you ever need to stop.

✩ This man also has a CRAZY amount of stamina. In-ho was a police officer at one point, so he had to have at least some agility experience or training. He is also very skilled for his age and can go for literal hours. So I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, babe!

✩ In-ho is the perfect mix of degrading and praising. Names he will call you during steamy time range from slut, to darling, to your own name. He will really call you anything under the sun as he pounds into you.

[vinocean22]

20 Things Spanking Fetishists Have in Common

Sweet Tea

Spankos are soulmates. The fetish hardwires our hearts and minds in remarkably consistent ways that aren’t usually apparent to others, so it’s always a bit magical when we chat. “Holy shit, you get me.” I still find it shocking how much we have in common. Can you relate to this list?

1. We’ve been like this for a very long time.

“I’m a lifelong spanko.” This is common in our community and not all that surprising, as most fetishes are formed during childhood. The vast majority of spankos I’ve met have either been this way for as long as they can remember, or can pinpoint a specific age in childhood when they became preoccupied with thoughts of the act. I can’t personally remember any point in my life when spanking didn’t fascinate me and captivate my attention.

2. It’s not a choice.

For many people, spanking is a kink. They enjoy it and find it sexy, but don’t necessarily consider it a requirement for a good time. For those with the fetish, however, spanking is a need rather than an option. Some of us can appreciate and enjoy other BDSM-related activities like bondage or wax play or needles, but spanking is central to our sexuality. This thing lies at the core of our soul and we couldn’t get rid of it if we tried.

We looked up the word ‘spanking’ in the dictionary as kids, not once but multiple times. This also applied to related words like ‘paddle’, ‘switch’, ‘flog’, ‘discipline’, or ‘punish’. We knew their meanings, of course, but the act of reading the definitions was exciting—arousing, even—though we may have been too young to conceptualize the feeling as sexual. If we studied a foreign language, we sat in class and wondered in the back of our minds, “But what’s the word for ‘spanking’?”

(Is this common with other fetishes? Did foot fetishists look up the words ‘foot’, ‘high heel’, ‘stocking’, etc. at the library, bashfully looking around to make sure no one else would notice? I wonder…)

4. We have, uhhh, ‘issues’ with being around it.

Non-spankos can talk about spanking like it’s nothing, but that’s not the case for people with a fetish for it. We may turn bright red when the topic comes up in conversation or feel the need to leave the room when spankings happen in movies or TV shows. For some, this is because the idea triggers intense arousal, even more so than if straight-up intercourse were playing onscreen. For others, it’s simply too intimate and embarrassing to think about unless we’re by ourselves or discussing it in the context of a sexual encounter. When I was a kid and friends publicly proclaimed, “My mom spanked me yesterday!” I felt absolutely mortified. “How can anyone talk about THAT so casually?”

5. We think about it a looooooot.

Some researcher folks have claimed we all think about sex an average of 18-35 times a day. The fetishists I know think about spanking at least this often if not more, frequently daydreaming about the smacking of butts. A fetish is, by definition, a meticulous obsession. We live and breathe it, and never run out of things to say when chatting with other spankos. We want to meet people like us and TALK about it in detail, even if we never end up playing together. It’s our favorite means of connection.

6. Our fetish has caused us hardship.

“Do you feel like your fetish is a curse?” I’ve seen this asked quite a bit on spanko forums. Most of us had to navigate a number of challenges while growing up with this thing. We felt shame, embarrassment, and isolation after realizing how different we were, and may have worried we were crazy. Our relationships with non-spankos have likely been riddled with intimacy problems because we can’t relate to each other sexually. No matter how kinky or open-minded our partners are, they’re unlikely to understand us unless they have the fetish too. As a result, many spankos become pickier over time, ultimately refusing to date those outside of their orientation. “I’d rather be single than with someone I can’t share this with.” Until we find our people, it’s a lonely world.

7. Spanking takes priority over sex.

Every spanko I’ve ever met has put spanking at the forefront of the itinerary. It’s satisfying in its own right for a lot of folks, whether or not other sexy stuff occurs before or afterward. Some spankos identify as asexual, eschewing intercourse entirely because it doesn’t interest them in the same way discipline does. Others are extremely sexual people who focus on spanking as the main course or frequently indulge as an extended form of foreplay. This is an example of why we might experience difficulty finding balance with non-spanko partners. By the time they’re ready to move onto something else, we’re just getting in the zone.

8. It’s on our mind when we orgasm.

One of the first times I had sex with another spanko, I was blown away by the level of telepathy between us. I closed my eyes and fantasized as he licked my clit. He suddenly paused and smiled. “You’re thinking about having your pants pulled down, aren’t you?” I mean fuck, of course I was, but how did he know?! With a bit more experience in the community, I realized many if not all spankos think about it while they’re getting off. The moment thoughts of discipline enter my mind I’m aroused, but I cool off just as quickly if my focus is drawn elsewhere. If I didn’t think about spanking, I’m not sure I’d ever climax.

9. Most of us have tried switching at least once.

Some spankos like to give and receive in equal share, but many have a preference toward being spanker or spankee. I’ve noticed, though, that even the most stubborn of us who proclaim, “I don’t switch!” have tried a taste of the other side out of curiosity at some point. It makes sense to want to learn all angles of the equation. I’m in favor of the idea that everyone benefits from switching. Understanding what our partners experience makes us all better lovers.

10. We want spankings to feel as ‘real’ as possible.

Often, spankees want to cry. We want to be held down and ‘made’ to take it until our spanker is done, no matter what we say or do. This makes the experience feel more real, as if we’re truly being punished by an authority figure and have no choice in the matter. Once trust has been established, some spankees will afford their partners blanket consent and opt not to use safewords. (I don’t recommend this route with anyone you wouldn’t trust with your life. There are oodles of legitimately fucked up people out there masking their abusive tendencies as BDSM. Vet your spankers well, ladies and gents.) This all exists to enhance the pleasure of the fantasy, but isn’t an invitation to violate limits. We want our spankers to be perceptive, taking us just far enough to inspire tears and provide release, but not so far as to genuinely break or traumatize us. Finding this balance is an art form that requires empathy, intelligence, communication, and skill.

11. We all have our preferences.

What implements do you like? What are your favorite positions? What kinds of spankings are your favorite to give? Bruises or no bruises? How long do you like to go for? What kinds of behavior would earn a spanking from you? These are the sexy deets we discuss when we chat, and our answers say a lot about our personalities. It’s rare for a spanko not to have feelings about such things. More often than not, we have specific reasons for liking what we like.

12. We enjoy associated activities.

To state the obvious: spankos love butts. LOOOOOOOOVE them. Naturally, we tend to enjoy other ass-focused activities in conjunction with spanking, like anal play, doggy-style sex, enemas, thermometers, and between-the-cheeks ‘inspections’. Many of us also dig other punishment-related activities traditionally associated with spanking, like corner time or writing lines. “I will not behave like such a sassy little brat. I will not behave like such a sassy little brat…”

13. For us, spanking is its own category.

I’ve noticed a desire in the spanko community to distinguish what we like from the greater umbrella of BDSM. Clearly, spanking incorporates elements of discipline, D/s, and sadomasochism. However, what most of us mean when we mention our fetish is far more specific. We’re not talking whips, dungeons, or shibari. We’re talking traditional, domestic bare-bottom OTK punishment with hands, paddles, belts, wooden spoons, bath brushes, and other goodies found in the home. It’s a comforting, parental, for-your-own-good type of vibe wherein we call our partners Mommy, Daddy, or other titles that convey nurturing familiarity. Very different than, say, having a cold ‘master-slave’ dynamic in a relationship, which tends to be a bit too much for our taste.

14. We love every stage of the process.

A non-spanko might solely imagine the physical slapping of cheeks when we refer to our love of spanking, but that's not the long and short of the matter. Spankos adore the entire arc of the narrative. The misbehavior that led to the spanking. The threats and anticipation. Getting into position. The warm-up and removal of each layer of clothing, all the way until the spankee’s bottom is bared. The swats, first with hands, then a variety of implements. The communication surrounding lecturing and admonishment. The catharsis of tears. The slow tenderness and beauty of aftercare. The closeness the ritual inspires. The intimate drama of this entire process is deeply satisfying.

15. We distinguish between different kinds of spankings.

What is the purpose of the spanking being given? Punishment? Maintenance? Stress relief? Eroticism? This detail is important to us, for it influences the style in which the spanker spanks. Sexual spankings often involve caressing of nether-regions and start off somewhat softly, building in strength at a comfortable pace throughout a drawn-out warm-up period. Punishment spankings embody an entirely different space. They are meant to be intense, painful, and challenging to endure.

16. We watch a lot of the same porn.

My closest spanko friends and I send each other links to videos every so often. “Have you seen this one?” A lot of the time the answer is yes, for we’re drawn to the same spankers, spankees, and couples who create our favorite content. Spanking vids with a glitzier, more porny atmosphere tend to be lower on the ladder than amateur, traditionally domestic ones. Again, we want it all to feel as real as possible. The “we shot this at home while punishing actual misbehavior” setup provides more satisfaction.

17. We don’t usually watch our porn with non-spankos.

Back when I used to date vanilla and guys would ask, “What kind of porn do you watch?” I would lie and pretend porn wasn’t my thing. This is because I knew that what I watch would likely bore them. A clip with fifteen straight minutes of nothing but spanking, sans sex, would likely make a lot of people’s eyes roll back into their sockets. “So monotonous!” Once I started dating spankos, however, I found much joy in sharing, knowing we could relish each and every moment together.

18. We all want a house out in the boonies.

Ask a spanko about their goals for the future and many will answer, “I want to buy land.” This is because our activity of choice is LOUD and has the potential to disturb nearby neighbors. Nothing ruins a good time like a visit from the fuzz. The begging, screaming, and crying… they are cleansing to our souls and we wish to do them freely. It’s countryside living for us, boy howdy.

19. We’re very romantic people.

It comes as no surprise that many spankos are traditionalists. We often relish old-timey acts of devotion like marriage, opening doors, buying flowers, and cooking for our partners. Many are monogamous and like to wait to have sex until deep bonds of commitment are set in stone. Spanking is an extension of this attitude toward intimacy. We’re so deeply devoted to our partners that we refuse to turn our backs on their misbehavior, laziness, procrastination, or feelings of guilt. Instead we stay, face them, and do what must be done to help them deal with their problems, following up with plenty of aftercare involving sweetness and reassurance. Squeeee.

20. We speak the same love language.

For partners with a consensual domestic discipline dynamic, spanking is an act of love. It’s an intimate ritual centering on a potent giving and receiving of attention. A means of setting aside time to converse and communicate about the challenges of relationships and everyday affairs. A tool for strengthening the bond and balancing the energy between spanker and spankee. A way of helping one another feel “right” and “natural” in a world that so often feels like it’s tumbling off its axis. In nonconsensual or manipulative contexts, spanking is abuse. Between those of us who crave it from one other, it’s the highest form of affection.

Granted, these are solely my thoughts based on my own observations and experiences.

Anything to add, spankos?

Reach out, I'd love to hear you : https://www.the-rose-moon.com/post/20-things-spanking-fetishists-have-in-common

[naomiiiiz]

I’m reading a fanfiction where Agent Stone is unofficially indirectly technically but also definitely adopted by the Wachowski Family and now I cannot unsee it.

For some context, the family is trying to figure out how to get Shadow to come to them without forcing him or making him feel pressured or unwanted, and Agent Stone gets involved.

Maddie invites him to dinner, and what I thought was going to be the best overprotective sons defending their loyal and powerful and loving family banter turned into the crackiest family dinner with an unexpecting, slightly grief ridden and emotionally stunted Agent Stone, desperately trying to wrap his head around the three aliens that have been kicking his ass for who knows how long being in a normal family???

With human parents???

Who like, house them and feed them and love them and teach them and nurture them???

And like, do stuff normal parents do in a normal family???

I’ve never felt so estatic since that one time the author my favorite MHA fantasy AU fanfic that got discontinued posted the endings and notes she had for the rest of the fanfiction.

EXAMPLE WITH DIRECT QUOTE FROM THE CHAPTER:

Tails: “Break started on Saturday. One of us can go with him, Mom! Make sure he stays sitting!”

Stone: “Break?”

Maddie: “Fall break. From school.”

Stone: “They go to school, too?”

Tails, rolling his eyes: “If you’re going to be surprised by every normal thing we do with our family, we’re going to be here all night.”

I read the chapter during my Sociology 100 lecture and had to stop many times to keep from laughing.

Stones astonishment at a normal, stable, healthy, albeit non-traditional family, Sonic being Sonic, Knuckles being Knuckles, Tails continuing to be the national treasure that he is, and Maddie and Tom being the patient, understanding parents that we’ve always seen them be.

You can’t buy joy like this. You can only find it on AO3, from people (mostly children, college students, or working class adults) who either have too much time or no time at all and yet somehow still get to share their genius with the entire world.

Reading this shit felt like getting the found family trope injected into my veins through IVF fluid.

Here’s a DIRECT QUOTE from my favorite part of the newest chapter:

Knuckles: “There will never be a truce, and I will never think of you as anything more than a small, weak man with questionable taste in partners.”

*literally like three fucking minutes later, after Knuckles has been fed a well cooked meal from Agent Stone*

Knuckles: “You are a very important and powerful man, and I apologize for what I said before. Mister Robot did not deserve you!”

Agent Stone, who’s probably sweating in three different places and pinching himself to keep from reacting too harshly, and experiencing the worst whiplash of his life: “Um, thanks?”

To Humanity’s_Humbag and Invader_Sam, who are the authors, I commend and thank you for your service to the Sonic Fandom. May the wicked curses of the Ao3 Fanfiction Author always evade you!

[mattsobvimyfav]

Different (Matthew Sturniolo)

When Y/N starts college, she's eager for a fresh start and new opportunities. Assigned a partner for a lab, she meets Matthew Sturniolo, who seems charming and capable at first glance. But as their partnership progresses, Y/N begins to uncover unsettling truths about Matthew's character, throwing her college journey entirely off.

part 2

A month had passed, and things had settled into a comfortable rhythm. School was still a grind, but with the first few weeks behind me, I was finally finding my balance. Matt and Chris had become a regular part of my days—more than just classmates, they were now part of my circle.

Matt and I were partners in lab now, a decision made by sheer luck in the seating arrangement that had somehow worked out perfectly. Our conversations, which used to be casual, had grown more comfortable, a little flirtatious even, though I never took it too seriously.

Today was different. We had a big experiment to finish in lab, one that was taking longer than expected. My concentration was waning, my mind starting to wander. Matt was across the table from me, meticulously measuring out the chemicals for our next step, his brow furrowed in concentration. I sat back, waiting for him to finish up, tapping my pen against the lab notebook in front of me.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence as I scribbled another note on the lab sheet. “Could you grab me the beaker from the shelf? I think we’re almost ready to mix this.”

Matt glanced over at me, his eyes sharp but with a teasing glint. “Which shelf?”

I pointed lazily to the far side of the room, where a row of shelves lined the wall. “The one next to the Bunsen burners.”

He got up from his stool, standing tall as he stretched slightly. “Alright, but…” His voice trailed off as he turned to look at me, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips. “What’s in it for me?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. “In it for you? It’s called teamwork, Matt.”

He chuckled, the sound low and easy, “Yeah, yeah, teamwork. But maybe I need a little incentive this time.”

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Incentive? What, you want me to do your part of the write-up or something?”

Matt stopped in his tracks, turning back to face me fully. His smirk deepened, and there was something in his expression—something daring and cocky—that made me sit up straighter. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” he said, his tone casual but edged with amusement. “I’ll grab the beaker if you give me head.”

The words hit me like a shockwave, and for a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. My eyes widened as I processed what he’d just said. “What?” I asked, my voice caught between disbelief and laughter.

“You heard me,” Matt said, leaning casually against the edge of the table, his arms crossed. He was grinning now, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’ll get the beaker if you… you know.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with me. Judging by the way his grin hadn’t faltered, he wasn’t backing down.

“Oh, really?” I said, finally recovering from my initial shock. I leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on. “That’s your price? A little bold, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying. A fair trade, right?”

I could feel a smirk forming on my own lips now, fueled by the ridiculousness of the situation. Two could play this game. “Alright, Matt,” I said coolly, leaning back in my chair. “Go grab the beaker.”

His grin faltered slightly, and he tilted his head at me, “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug, keeping my tone nonchalant even though my heart was pounding. 

Matt’s expression shifted from amused to something more cautious, like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I met his gaze without flinching, my smirk unwavering. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause as Matt stared at me, his confidence seemingly wavering for the first time. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Alright then.”

He grabbed the beaker and brought it back to our station, setting it down with a soft clink.

“See?” I said, picking up the beaker and placing it carefully on the rack. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He laughed again, looking down at his pants and smirking. “Harder than you think.”

I shrugged, focusing on the lab work in front of me as though nothing had happened. “You’ll live, Matt. Let’s finish this before we blow something up.”

“Nah, I’d actually love to see you blow something.”

“Die.” I deadpanned and he laughed hard. 

We left the lab together, the sun starting to set as we walked out into the parking lot. Matt’s car was parked in its usual spot. 

“You want shotgun or the trunk?” Matt asked with a smirk, unlocking the doors.

“Wow, such a gentleman,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. “How do girls resist you?”

“They don't,” he replied, shrugging as he plopped into the driver’s seat.

As soon as he started the car, he reached into the console and pulled out his rolling kit. It was a well-practiced routine by now—grinding the weed, spreading it evenly onto the paper. I watched him without meaning to, my gaze lingering as he carefully rolled the blunt.

And then he licked the edge of the paper to seal it.

I froze for a second, feeling heat creep up my neck. The way his tongue ran along the edge, slow and deliberate, sent a ripple of uninvited thoughts through my mind. I tried to shake them off, but my body betrayed me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Relax,” Matt said without looking up, grinning as if he could sense the tension. “It’s just a blunt.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes away and staring out the window.

Since hanging out with Matt and Chris, I’d been smoking a lot more than I ever thought I would. The haze of weed had become a regular backdrop to our conversations and late-night drives, and I’d started to crave the quiet calm it brought, even when Matt’s presence kept me on edge.

He lit the blunt and took a deep drag, exhaling smoothly as he turned up the music. The bass-heavy beat filled the car, and I let the sound drown out my wandering thoughts.

“Hungry?” he asked after a moment, glancing over at me.

“Always,” I said, already knowing where this was headed.

“Drive-thru or sit-down?”

“Drive-thru,” I said quickly. The idea of being in public right now, especially after that blunt, sounded exhausting.

“Good call,” he said, taking another hit before passing the blunt to me. “Where to?”

“Anywhere with fries,” I said, taking the blunt from him and inhaling. The smoke filled my lungs, and I felt the tension in my body start to melt away.

We pulled into the drive-thru as the sky darkened around us. By the time we had the bags of greasy goodness in the car, the smell alone was enough to make my mouth water.

“Fries first,” Matt said, shoving a handful into his mouth before pulling out of the lot.

“You’re an animal,” I said, 

“An animal who shares,” he replied, holding out a fry in front of my mouth.

I laughed, biting it from his hand. “Generous. I’ll give you that.”

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the music playing softly as we ate. Every so often, Matt would make a sarcastic comment about something in a song I picked or the random people we passed on the street.

By the time we got back to my place, the blunt was long gone, and my buzz was in full effect. Matt pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, turning to me with that familiar smirk.

“Who’s your favorite chauffeur, huh?” he said.

“You, of course Matthew,” I tapped his chest as I opened the door.

He leaned back in his seat, watching me. “That’s all I get?”

I grinned, stepping out of the car. “See you tomorrow, Matt.”

“Later, Y/N.”

I shut the door behind me, heading inside.

A couple hours later I was sprawled across my bed, lazily scrolling through my phone when it buzzed in my hand. Matt’s name lit up the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, sitting up slightly.

“Hey,” his voice came through, casual and smooth, but there was a hint of something teasing in his tone, as always. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” I replied. “Why?”

“Chris and I are just hanging out. Thought you might want to come over. Chill, watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Cool,” Matt replied. “Bring yourself, and maybe some snacks if you’re feeling generous.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No.”

After we hung up, I shuffled over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. Comfort was key, especially if we were just lounging around. I quickly changed, grabbed my keys, and headed out.

The drive to Matt and Chris’ place was short, and by now, familiar. I parked in the driveway and made my way up to the door, knocking once before letting myself in.

The scent of weed hit me almost immediately, and I wasn’t surprised to see Chris sitting on the couch, a joint in one hand and a controller in the other. Matt was lounging in the chair nearby, scrolling through his phone.

“Look who decided to show up,” Matt said with a grin, glancing up at me.

“Lucky you,” I shot back, closing the door behind me.

Chris looked over, offering a nod in greeting. “What’s up, Y/N?”

“Not much,” I said, plopping onto the couch beside him. As I glanced around, I noticed something—or rather, someone—was missing. “Where’s Charlie?”

Chris shrugged, taking a drag from the joint. “Haven’t seen her in a couple of days. She’s been acting all secretive lately. Weird vibes, you know?”

I frowned. Charlie had been doing the same to me, Ignoring me, not hanging out. “Secretive how?”

“Like… I don’t know,” Chris said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “She’s just been off. Doesn’t say much, dips early when she is around.”

Matt chimed in from the chair. “She’s probably just dealing with some shit. People get like that sometimes.”

I nodded. 

“Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said, settling deeper into the couch.

Chris nodded. “For sure.”

“So,” Matt said, clapping his hands together and standing up. “What kind of movie are we watching tonight, Y/N? Your pick.”

I thought for a moment, scrolling through the mental list of my favorite genres. “Horror,” I said finally.

Matt raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Horror? Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“You will never peg me, and why the fuck not?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “I will,” he joked back, “but you just don’t seem like the ‘scare-me-stupid’ kind of person.”

Chris chuckled. “Nah, she seems like a ‘fuck-me-stupid type of person.”

“Shut up,” I said, throwing a pillow at him.

“Alright, horror it is,” Matt said, walking over to the TV. He started scrolling through a streaming service, muttering titles under his breath. “The Conjuring? Hereditary? Oh, how about Evil Dead?”

“Evil Dead,” I said quickly. “Classic.”

Matt grinned. “Good choice.”

As he queued up the movie, I kicked off my shoes and got comfortable on the couch. Chris passed me the joint, and I took a small hit, letting the smoke calm my nerves.

The movie started, and the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional crack of a soda can or the crunch of chips. I tried to focus on the screen, but my attention kept drifting. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warmth of the room, or the way Matt occasionally glanced over at me with that ever-present smirk.

By the time the first jump scare hit, Chris laughed loudly as I flinched, but Matt just leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Not scared, huh?” Matt teased, glancing over at me.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “It’s a good movie. That’s all.”

“Sure it is,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The movie ended with the final screams of the protagonist echoing in the room, and Chris stretched, letting out a yawn. “That was solid,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m beat.”

I checked the time on my phone and realized how late it had gotten. “Yeah, I'll probably get going,” I said, standing up and stretching.

Chris shook his head, sitting up on the couch. “Why? We’ve got class together tomorrow. Just stay over. We’ll all head out in the morning.”

I hesitated, my mind immediately running through excuses. “I don’t have any clothes, though. And I need to shower.”

Matt, who had been lounging in the armchair, glanced over at me with a casual shrug. “You can shower here. It’s not a big deal. I can find you some pajamas or something.”

Before I could respond, Chris jumped in, smirking. “Yeah, and you could borrow one of my shirts or sweatshirts for tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “You guys are really selling this sleepover idea.”

Chris grinned, leaning back on the couch. “What can I say? We’re great hosts. Plus, it’s way easier than driving home and then having to meet us again tomorrow.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

I bit my lip, still unsure. I hadn’t exactly planned for a sleepover, but they did make a good argument. And the thought of not having to deal with the early morning drive was tempting.

“Fine,” I said finally, crossing my arms. “But I’m showering before bed, and I’m borrowing something decent to wear. Not some of the ugly shit I see you guys wear.”

Matt smirked, standing up and stretching. “Deal. I’ll grab you a pair of shorts and a shirt.”

I followed him down the hall to grab whatever he was offering, and a part of me couldn’t help but smile at how casual the whole thing was. 

I stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the stress of the day wash away. The warmth was soothing.

After rinsing out the shampoo and washing off the remnants of the day, I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. Matt’s shirt—a soft, slightly oversized band tee—was folded neatly on the counter. I slipped it over my head, the fabric falling just below my butt, brushing against the tops of my thighs. It smelled like him—woodsy cologne with a faint hint of something sweet.

I debated for a second before ultimately deciding to forgo the shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover everything, and I hate wearing pants to bed. It felt comfortable, casual.

When I walked out of the bathroom, the cool air hit my damp skin, sending a small shiver down my spine. I made my way to Matt’s room and pushed the door open without knocking.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his phone, but he looked up when I walked in. His gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“Here,” he said, holding out a hairbrush. “You’ll want this. Can’t have you looking like a wet dog in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes but took the brush from his hand, plopping down at his desk. The mirror above it reflected my image, and I started brushing through my damp hair, wincing at the occasional tangle.

Matt leaned back on his bed, his eyes still on me. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone lighter, teasing, “you look really good in my clothes.”

I paused, lifting my arms to brush through the underside of my hair. The motion made the shirt rise slightly, exposing more of my thighs. When I glanced in the mirror, Matt’s gaze had shifted downward.

I smirked, lowering the brush. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar smirk of his. “But I bet you’d look even better without them.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Subtle as always, Matt.”

He grinned, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What? Just speaking the truth. You can’t blame me for appreciating your body.”

“Well, appreciate it from over there,” I shot back, brushing through another section of my hair.

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you can’t be mad when I keep staring. You’re the one walking around in my shirt with no pants on.”

“It’s long enough to count as a dress,” I countered.

“A very short dress,” he corrected, leaning back on his hands. “One wrong move, and—”

“Alright, enough,” I said, turning to glare at him, though I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “You’re worse than Chris.”

He laughed, tilting his head. “Nah, Chris would’ve already made some dumbass comment about being a ‘gentleman’ and offering to help you into bed.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “You guys are the worst.”

“Maybe,” Matt admitted, standing up and walking over to me. He leaned against the desk, his proximity making the room feel even smaller. “But you keep coming around, so we can’t be that bad.”

I looked up at him, still holding the brush in my hand. “You’re the lucky one, Matt.”

“Lucky’s one word for it,” he said, his voice dropping slightly.

The air between us shifted, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what was happening. But then he smiled, breaking the tension. “Hurry up, I want you in my bed”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the mirror and resuming my brushing. Matt lingered for a moment before stepping back toward his bed.

I finished brushing through my hair, smoothing it down before setting the brush on the desk. When I turned, Matt was sprawled out on his bed, his arm resting casually behind his head. 

The faint glow of red LED lights around his TV cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked unreal, like something out of a book—effortlessly attractive, and entirely too aware of it.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you getting in?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I rolled my eyes but walked over, slipping under the covers on the side of the bed he wasn’t occupying. The sheets were soft, I kept a little distance between us, settling on my side, but my heart was racing for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.

The red glow bathed everything in warmth, but it only seemed to make the space between us feel more charged. I could feel Matt’s presence next to me, his body heat radiating in the small gap we’d left.

I tried to focus on anything else, but my mind betrayed me, looping back to the moments I’d caught myself staring at him, how his hands looked when he rolled a blunt, the way his lips curved when he smirked, the tattoos that peeked out from beneath his sleeves. 

I hadn’t allowed myself to linger on those thoughts before, but now, in the quiet intimacy of his room, they consumed me.

I shifted slightly, glancing over at him. He was propped up on one elbow now, watching me with a lazy smirk that made my stomach twist.

“What?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

“You,” he said simply, his eyes glinting in the red light. “You’re all stiff. Relax.”

“I’m relaxed,” I countered, though the tension in my body betrayed me.

He didn’t reply, just kept watching me, his gaze heavy. It was as if he could see right through me, see the way my thoughts were spiraling. I tried to look away, but he reached out, his fingers brushing against my chin, gently turning my face back toward him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“Like what?” I asked, though my voice wavered.

“Like you want me,” he said, his smirk widening.

I swallowed hard, my brain scrambling for a response, but before I could think of one, he leaned in, closing the small gap between us. His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, as if he was waiting for me to pull away.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned into him, my hand instinctively reaching up to rest on his chest. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. His lips were warm and soft, moving against mine with a mix of patience and hunger that left me breathless.

The red glow of the lights seemed to pulse around us, painting the room in a haze that felt almost dreamlike. I let myself get lost in the moment, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hand trailed along my side, just beneath the hem of the one I was wearing.

“Y/N,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down my spine.

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my breathing unsteady. His eyes were darker now.

He smiled, his hand shifting slightly, his thumb brushing against the bare skin of my waist. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

I raised an eyebrow, my lips curving into a small smile. “Me? Dangerous? You’re the one who started this.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning in to kiss me again. “But you’re the one who’s making it impossible to stop.”

And for the rest of the night, I didn’t want him to.

The soft rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of warm light across Matt’s room. I blinked against the brightness, groaning softly as I shifted beneath the covers. My body was heavy with sleep, but my mind was wide awake, replaying the events of the previous night like a broken record.

Matt was still asleep beside me, sprawled out on his stomach with one arm hanging off the bed. His dark hair was a messy tangle, and his face was half-buried in the pillow, making his sharp features seem softer in the morning light. He looked so peaceful, so unlike the cocky, teasing version of him I was used to.

But that wasn’t what had my attention. No, my thoughts were stuck on the way his lips felt against mine, the way his hands had skimmed over my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

I let out a quiet sigh, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like I had feelings for Matt. That wasn’t what this was about. But damn, the guy could kiss.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I replayed the way he’d leaned in, the way his touch had sent little shocks through my body. It wasn’t just the physicality of it—it was the way he seemed so confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what I wanted.

I wondered, fleetingly, what else he was good at.

The thought made my cheeks heat, and I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow to hide from my own embarrassment. It wasn’t like I was planning to find out. Last night had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by proximity and a little too much unspoken tension.

I let out another sigh, forcing myself to sit up. The oversized shirt I’d borrowed from him slipped off one shoulder, the fabric soft against my skin. My hair was still slightly damp from last night’s shower, and I ran a hand through it, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep and the memories threatening to take over.

Beside me, Matt stirred, his head turning slightly on the pillow. For a moment, I thought he might wake up, but he just let out a soft groan and shifted, settling back into his slumber.

Shaking my head, I slid out of bed as quietly as I could. My legs felt wobbly, a mix of morning stiffness and the remnants of whatever spell he’d cast over me the night before.

I was in the middle of pulling on my biker shorts when the door creaked open. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Chris standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the scene.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” he said, his smirk immediate.

“Chris,” I said flatly, covering my chest as I reached for my sports bra. “Ever heard of knocking?”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe like he had no intention of leaving. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’m just appreciating the view.”

Sliding the straps of my bra over my shoulders, I gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to be saying that kind of thing to?”

Chris grinned, unabashed. “Sure, but sharing isn’t wrong, right? You look good, Y/N—just saying.”

“Shut up.” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as I grabbed my hair tie, securing my messy hair into a loose bun. “If you’re done being a creep, what do you want?”

He walked over, holding out a black zip-up hoodie. “Figured you might want something warmer, and this is a classic. Looks good on everyone.”

I shook my head, pulling on the hoodie and zipping it halfway, letting the band of my sports bra peek through. “There. Happy now?”

Chris tilted his head, giving me a once-over. “Very. You wear it well, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah you just said it looks good on everyone. Now go wake up your brother.”

Chris laughed, turning toward Matt’s bed. He nudged Matt’s shoulder, earning a muffled groan in response. “Yo, wake up, kid. We’re gonna be late, and I can’t keep Y/N entertained all morning.”

Matt turned his head, groggy eyes narrowing as he looked at Chris. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chris smirked, jerking his thumb back toward me. “I’m just saying you better get at that soon before I do.”

Matt’s eyes flicked to me for a moment, taking in the sight of me in Chris’s hoodie. He blinked, his expression unreadable before he groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “You’re both annoying. Leave me alone.”

Chris laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon, man. Don’t sleep on this opportunity.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms as I leaned against the desk. “Are you done playing matchmaker? Because I’m about to leave both of you behind.”

Chris raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two alone. But seriously, Matt, get up.”

As Chris left the room, I leaned back in the chair, adjusting the hoodie and smirking to myself. Boys were exhausted, but at least they were entertaining.

The drive to class was quiet for the most part. Matt was behind the wheel, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the gearshift. Chris sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the aux cord to pick a playlist, while I sat in the back, watching the world blur past through the window.

“Y/N, what do you wanna listen to?” Chris asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Anything but country,” I replied, leaning back against the seat.

Chris turned back around “Glad we are on the same page.”

“Play something calm though. It’s early.” I said back, earning a chuckle from Matt.

“She’s got a point,” Matt said, smirking as Chris put on the neighborhood, earning a grin from me. 

The rest of the ride was filled with music and light banter. When we pulled into the parking lot, Chris hopped out first, holding the door open for me with a mock bow. “After you, princess.”

“Thank yew,” I quipped, stepping out and adjusting my bag.

Matt locked the car, and the three of us headed to class together, slipping into our usual seats near the back of the lecture hall. The room filled quickly, and just as the professor was setting up, Charlie walked in.

Before she even had the chance to sit down, Chris was already on his feet. “Hallway. Now,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for argument.

Charlie blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t protest. She just sighed and followed him out of the lecture hall. 

Matt shot me a look, and I shrugged. Five minutes passed, and my patience ran out. I nudged him. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t hesitate. We slipped out quietly, finding them a few doors down. Their voices were low but carried just enough for us to hear.

“I don’t know what’s been up with you, but I’m not playing this game,” Chris said, his tone completely even. Not angry. Not upset. Just done.

Charlie huffed. “What game?”

Chris let out a breath like this was exhausting. “You’ve been weird all week. Distant. Off. I’m not about to sit around and guess what’s going on. That’s not me.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” she tried, her voice tight.

“Cool,” Chris said. “Then you can handle it without me.”

Silence stretched between them. Matt shifted beside me, and Chris glanced over, catching us. His face didn’t hold any annoyance, just something like relief. “Are you ready to leave? Im not sitting in this fuck ass class today.” he asked us.

“Yeah.” I stepped into view without hesitation.

We got back to Matt and Chris’s place without much conversation. Chris didn’t seem to care about the breakup at all—if anything, he looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in days. Matt grabbed a beer from the fridge, tossing one to Chris, and I settled onto the arm of the couch, still trying to process everything.

“So that’s just it?” I asked, looking at Chris.

He cracked open the beer and took a sip before answering. “Yeah. That’s just it.”

“No second thoughts?”

Chris smirked. “Second thoughts are for people who care.”

Matt let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Kids got a point.”

Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Chris and Matt exchanged a look.

“You expecting someone?” Chris asked.

Matt shrugged and got up to answer it. As soon as he opened the door, two guys stepped inside like they’d done it a hundred times before. They both had that twitchy, wired energy—eyes shifting, hands in their hoodie pockets.

One of them nodded at Matt. “You got it?”

Matt didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, hold up.”

He disappeared down the hall, and when he came back, he was holding a small bag. Not weed. This was different—white powder, packed tight. 

Cocaine.

I must’ve made a face because Chris glanced at me and smirked. “What, you didn’t know?”

I stared at him. “You guys sell coke?”

Chris shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah hun, a lot more than coke.”

Matt handed the bag over, and the guy passed him a wad of cash in return. Quick. Clean. Efficient.

I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around it. “I thought you guys just had money because of your jobs.”

Chris laughed, taking another sip of his beer. “That’s cute.”

The guys left without another word, and Matt locked the door behind them before turning back to me, grinning. “You good?”

I hesitated, “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Chris clapped me on the back as he passed me. “Welcome to the real world, babe.”

I stayed at Matt and Chris’s for a little while after their business wrapped up, but eventually, I pushed myself off the couch, stretching. “I should head home. Need my own clothes and stuff.”

Chris, still laser-focused on his game, barely acknowledged me. “You say that like you don’t want to be here.”

Matt smirked. “You sure you don’t just wanna crash again?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be back. I just don’t wanna keep smelling like dude and weed.”

Chris snorted. “Could be worse.”

I flipped him off, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. “Later, assholes.”

Matt gave a lazy “Bye Sweetheart,” and Chris just grunted in response.

The drive home was quiet. By the time I pulled into my driveway, it was already getting dark, and something immediately felt off.

The living room light was on.

I frowned. I hadn’t left it that way.

Stepping inside, I was hit with the smell of food—garlic, butter, something sizzling. Then I heard movement in the kitchen.

And then I saw him.

My dad.

Standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan like this was totally normal.

I blinked. “You’re home.”

He turned at the sound of my voice, like I was the one who wasn’t supposed to be here. “Yeah,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Figured it was time.”

I dropped my bag by the door and leaned against the frame. “Time for what?”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t bite at the obvious attitude in my tone. “To be home.”

I just nodded, taking it in. I wasn’t mad, not really. Just… surprised. I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.

“You eaten?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Good,” he said, nodding toward the table. “Sit. I made enough for two.”

I hesitated, just for a second, before pulling out a chair and sitting down. 

I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. “I’m going back to Matt and Chris’s.”

Dad’s eyes snapped to me, his brows pulling together. “Matt and Chris who?”

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Sturniolo.”

His whole face shifted, his expression darkening. “No.”

I froze, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he repeated, standing up. “You’re not going over there.”

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “You can’t just waltz back in and start making rules.”

He ignored that. “Do you even know who those boys are? My cop friends talk about them all the time. They’re bad news, Y/N.”

I scoffed. “Oh, so now you care who I hang out with?”

“This isn’t a joke,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t need to be involved with kids like that.”

I crossed my arms, leveling him with a look. “Yeah? Well, too late.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t know what they’re into.”

I stared at him for a second, debating whether to push it further. Instead, I just shook my head and turned toward the door. “I’ll see you whenever you decide to show up again.”

“Y/N—”

But I didn’t let him finish. I walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The drive back to Matt and Chris’s was quicker than usual, mostly because I was gripping the wheel so tight I might as well have been trying to crush it. My dad just showing up out of nowhere was one thing, but acting like he suddenly got a say in my life? Telling me who I could and couldn’t hang out with? Bad news. Please. Like I didn’t already know exactly who Matt and Chris were.

By the time I pulled into their driveway, my head was still spinning. I didn’t bother knocking—I just walked in, letting the door swing shut behind me.

Both of them looked up from their spots on the couch. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, good to see you too.”

“That was fast,” Matt added, smirking.

I dropped my bag onto the floor and glared at them. “Shut the fuck up and roll me a joint. It’s been a long hour.”

Chris grinned, reaching for the stash on the coffee table. “Now that I can do.”

tag-

@courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @sturniolostories13 @baileysturnz

@tbfaptbfae @ch0lliess @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @mamamadssss @loser41ifee

[innerempire]

{Father-in-law Tony that thinks Peter is so much more deserving of a better husband than his own son)

Tony doesn’t know how his son managed to bag a goddamn gem like Peter Parker. Hell, he loves his son, but Tony was always of the thought that his son lacked…ambitions. He wasn’t keen in inheriting the company and learning the ropes of business and while that disappointed Tony, he had come to terms with it (after some thoughts of possibly disowning his son and leaving nothing for him in the will).

And it’s only normal that Tony doesn’t understand what Peter sees in Harry. But they were clearly in love and Harry seemed to be faring better with Peter in his life. For Tony, he bonds instantly with Peter over their mutual interest in tech. There’s clearly some awe and worship there, but Tony brushes it off because he is the Tony Stark afterall.

But he also can’t deny he enjoys it.

The more he gets to know Peter, the more he starts to think: I want him for myself. He doesn’t know exactly when he starts imagining the younger male as his partner, realizing that he’s growing mildly irritated each time Harry is around Peter. Or when he starts taking mental notes of Peter’s likes and dislikes, occasionally bringing him out for lunch and/or dinner under the guise of “bonding” with his son’s partner.

“You know, I’ve been here with Harry so many times, but he never remembers that I love the smoked duck pasta here. “

“Well, I hope you’re alright with me going ahead to order for you.”

“…thanks for remembering, Mr.Stark.”

And Tony remembers.

Remembers that Peter loves his coffee with a specific brand of oat milk. That he has a preference for sweet-salty snacks and white wine over red, or how he’s slightly allergic to shrimps. He notices how Peter tends to overshare when he’s nervous, the way the boy gnaws on the skin of his thumb when he’s deep in thought, sees all the quirks that he finds so goddamn endearing.

When Harry shows Tony the ring he had picked out to propose to Peter, he flat out says to Harry: “Peter’s not going to like that. It’s too much.”

Harry laughs it off, “Come on, dad, you don’t know him like I do.”

Two months after Harry proposes to Peter, Tony smugly realizes that Peter’s wearing a different ring altogether. The jealousy grows and so does his unwarranted resentment towards his own son. Now, Tony has never once though that he’s a good man, but he stoops to an all time low when he offers Peter a position in R&D for entirely selfish reasons.

Peter’s fucking thrilled, but he also goes on a spiel about how he doesn’t to be treated any differently - honestly, Tony thinks the kid worries too much, but it’s what makes Peter so very…him.

As time goes by, Tony can’t lie to himself any longer : he truly does want Peter for himself.

[dekariosclan]

I had a thought about Gales reaction to/feelings about stretch marks on his partner. Not ones from pregnancy (I personally feel those are kind of different. I have a lot of them just from fast weight gain, and even after losing that weight seeing them seems to only remind me of my shame that I ever let myself go that much).

I feel like I already know the answer - he is so loving, and so truly does not care about physical “imperfections” on his loved one or things that may be outside whatever beauty standards apply in his world. If he knew his partner was insecure about them, he’d likely go out of his way to make them feel better about them. But I’m still curious how you would describe his thoughts on them, if that makes sense. Would he even notice them? What would they represent to him, if he knew they were from a time his partner was neglecting their health (or even being very lazy)?

I hope this isn’t a nonsensical ramble. I think I’ve lately found myself trying to change my own negative perceptions of myself by thinking through the lens of what Gale would see, so asking an expert like yourself for your take might help me get there on this topic <3

Not nonsensical at all anon! 💜 And I love your idea of thinking through the lens of what Gale would see—the world would be a much kinder (and chattier!) place if everyone did so.

Your thoughts about Gale’s response to his partner’s insecurities are spot-on. But he’d also want to reassure them (and you!) that there is nothing shameful about the fact that their body changed shape or appearance. He would hush any disparaging comments about ‘letting oneself go’ or ‘being very lazy’. He’d be very, very proud that his love was no longer neglecting their health, but he would not apply any shame or negativity to their bodily appearance, either in the past or in their present condition.

I honestly think a lot of people struggle to understand Gale’s way of thinking because we have been-force fed toxic beauty bullsh*t for our entire lives. By our society’s beauty standards, Gale is hot. And Gale had a hot Goddess girlfriend; therefore how could Gale love a non-hot person? I’ve seen countless posts about Mystra being his ex and how ‘my Tav could never compare.’ But we’re the ones who have it all wrong; in Gale’s eyes, when he falls in love with Tav, it’s Mystra who can no longer compare.

So I’ve come to think of it like this: we all know Gale loves and treasures books, right? If you try and destroy the Necromancy book, he gets mad. He geeks out thinking about shopping at Sorcerous Sundries. He has a massive overflowing library in his home in Waterdeep. In short, he absolutely adores, respects and reveres stories. And I think, when Gale looks at others, and especially at his beloved Tav, what he sees and values first and foremost is their story—because that’s what defines who they are. Gale doesn’t judge a book by its cover, he judges it by the quality of the writing.

So, to answer your question about how he would react to Tav’s stretch marks, and whether he would notice them, and what they would represent, I believe he would simply see them for what they are: A physical representation of a chapter in Tav’s life. Not an imperfection, not something shameful, but an experience that, like all the other chapters in Tav’s life, helped shape them into the wonderful person that Gale loves today. An experience that helped to write Tav’s story.

And in his eyes, what could be more beautiful than that?

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #2

Hero looked up from their anxious pacing and let out a sigh of relief as a dark shape dropped into the alley. “Villain,” they breathed, stepping forward and throwing their arms around their lover’s neck. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Villain said, carefully removing the arms from them. It was always a shock to see Hero in civilian clothes, with their hair down and their face clear of disguises. Not exactly like a regular person, because they could never be regular. That smile, their laugh, those beautiful eyes--it would all make them stand out in any crowd. 

“So… what is it that you want to talk about?” Hero asked, bringing Villain back to the present. 

Internally, Villain steeled themself for what they were about to say. They stood up straight, tossed their head, and put on their best smirk. “I just thought you’d want to know the truth about our relationship.”

Their lover looked taken aback. “Oh…well, if there’s something important I should know…”

“It’s very important,” the criminal assured them. “So important you’d better run back to Superhero and tell them everything I’m about to say.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “What? Is Supervillain planning something, or-“

Villain laughed. “It’s not Supervillain’s plan, dear. It’s mine. And it worked perfectly.”

Their nemesis took an unconscious step backward, confused and a little wary. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t. You were always clever, I suppose, but you’re far more gullible than you think.”

“V-Villain, what-“

“What I’m trying to say,” they continued, “is that this was fun, but I have what I came here for.” They grinned at the dumbstruck Hero. “What, still don’t get it? I made you love me. None of this was ever real.”

Hero’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. They were too shocked to speak. Tears started forming in their eyes. 

Villain chuckled. “It started out as a ploy for information, of course. But once I saw how hopelessly you fell for me, I decided to stick around and see what else I could get.”

“But-but I never told you anything about the agency, or-“

“Darling, you really think you didn’t tell me anything? You betrayed yourself and the agency to me so many times, it’s laughable.”

Fear crept into Hero’s face. “N-no. It’s not possible.”

The criminal sighed. “When are you going to get it into your head that I won? I’ve been lying to you for so long, and you never even noticed.”

“I don’t believe you’re that good of an actor.” Their fists were clenched but trembling, doubt creeping in through the cracks despite themself.

“Oh, I’m a terrible actor,” Villain said, examining their nails uninterestedly. “You’re just that big of a fool.”

Hero sobbed, stumbling back until they hit the alley wall and covering their face with their hands. It was true, then, they thought hopelessly. This was nothing like the person they had dated. They didn’t know them at all…

“Oh, don’t cry, darling,” Villain soothed. “It’s not your fault. But really… if you couldn’t see what was right in front of you, are you sure you’re cut out for the hero business?”

Anger and misery were boiling over in Hero’s mind. They shoved their hands out in front of them, a burst of power blasting their enemy away from them. Villain put their arms in front of them to protect themself, but even now, they could tell Hero wasn’t really trying to hurt them. 

“Leave me alone!” The crime-fighter cried, tears dripping from their chin. “Go! I never want to see you again!”

Villain shrugged. “Whatever you want, love. But think about what I said, will you? It might be time for a career change.” They gave Hero one last dazzling smile and lifted off into the sky. In the alley below them, their former partner slid to the ground and buried their face in their knees. Villain could hear their sobs echoing in their ears all the way back to their base. 

Once they got there, they looked around to make sure all of their henchmen had gone home like they’d ordered. When they were sure they were alone, they pulled out their phone and dialed a number with shaking hands. 

Supervillain picked up immediately. “Did you do it?”

“Yes. And you’ll uphold your end of the deal?”

“As long as you stay away from them, Hero will be safe from me.” The smile in their voice was evident. “Pleasure doing business with you, Villain.” And with that, they hung up. 

Numbly, Villain set down their phone. Their heart felt like someone was squeezing it out of their chest. Hero’s heartbroken face was floating in front of their vision, in so much pain, all because of them. How could they do this to someone they loved so much? But how could they not, with someone as powerful as Supervillain threatening their lover’s life? 

“I’m so sorry, Hero,” they whispered. They lowered their head, eyes closing in defeat. “I’m going to keep you safe. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Only then did they finally allow themself to cry.

word count: 858

[tootoomanycats]

Just Deserts

(Post Rumbling Levi x Reader slow burn)

Chapter One- It's Snowing

Pairing:

Levi x Reader Slow Burn (eventual smut)

Word Count: 2,119

If you prefer to read on AO3 its HERE Summary: Two years after the rumbling has ended, the citizens of Paradis Island are beginning to enter a new era of peace. With trade routes open around the world now, more and more foreigners are arriving on the island. In a small town built on the island's docks, Levi has opened a tea shop. Humanity's strongest hero, now turned shop owner, has become a stickler for his daily routines. He wakes up, serves tea to the townsfolk, tends to his small garden, and then walks back upstairs to sleep, only to do it all over again the next day. It's a simple life—one he's never had before. After landing on the island's shores, following a hasty exit from home, you find yourself starting from square one. Over the next few months, you make friends with the locals and begin to build a new life for yourself. One day leads to the next, and somehow, you find yourself holding the deed to an empty storefront. Its windows face directly across from the local tea shop and its brooding owner. From your first meeting, neither of you could stand the other. In the months that follow the opening of your shop, a mutual frustration develops regarding your feelings for each other. What began as annoyance slowly transforms into a friendship, and both of you become nervous that it could be something more. Can Levi overcome his past and allow someone in again? Can you heal from heartbreak to have a chance at something real and honest? Or will you both settle for the courtesies of friendship, forever denying the desire for something deeper?

Warnings:

Minor mentions of blood.

Descriptions of chronic pain.

Mentions of a cheating partner.

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone! Holy shit, two chapters in one week? Nobody tell my cardiologist how much caffeine I’ve had this week- I don’t want to get in trouble. This is a story I’ve been sitting on my hands for almost a year now. I had made the original idea for this fic HERE. I ended up outlining some of it, and then, due to stress, moving, and tons of health issues, I forgot about it until two a.m. last night- when my sleeping meds were fighting with the caffeine I did not drink.

(it might have been three yerba cans, might not; you don't have proof!)

This one’s gonna be a slow burn, and it's gonna be funny. I want to put a lot of humor into this one.

As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks. Have you watered your smut provider today?

Two Years After The Rumbling

Glancing to the worn side table where a small square-faced alarm clock sat, a groan wracked his chest.

Two needle-like arms sat at 4:45 AM.

An hour before it was set to go off.

The smaller needle twitched back once before going forward two extra ticks; still need to fix that.

Four hours of fitful rest before being dragged back to the waking world. Last night's storm seemed hellbent on bringing powerful snow squalls. Accompanied by an atmospheric presser change that had his body vehemently protesting the whole night.

Freezing days like this had every past wound, affliction, and defacement his body had sustained roaring, unable to be ignored, and only allowing short and broken stints of rest.

If you could even call it that.

A slow blink brought focus to the ceiling. The aged variegation and cracks had been memorized in the last hour. Levi was lying awake in bed, his mind trying to pull what little motivation it could to sit up.

A groan filled his chest before he even started to move. Turning slowly to the right side, his right leg bent against the mattress. He then pushed his left hand down into the firm padding, using the leverage to sit up in bed.

Every movement was carefully debated, anything to avoid more discomfort than was already felt. Just sitting upright used more energy than he wanted to acknowledge.

Pulsing heat wound like barbed wire in his left shin, wrapping up the limb and pushing its pinpricked needles under the nerves of the patella. The joint inflammation, no doubt, had also caused swelling.

Shuddering a breath, Levi brought his right hand into view. There were rounded nodes where the index and middle fingers should be, both tingling and numb from the bout-filled night.

Minutes passed before trying to stand, only to feel a sharp sensation shoot up his left leg. With a grunt, he stumbled back onto the bed and begrudgingly glared at the walking cane leaning against the wall.

Another sigh.

The storm had passed over at some point, leaving a gray-skied morning in its wake. Snow blanketed everywhere that could be seen out of the window. It was going to be interesting going down the stairs of his apartment today. The steps already were becoming slick from moss, and now this added to the issue.

A shower, a very hot shower, would hopefully help this pain in the ass morning get off to a better start.

With a cane hooked over his forearm, Levi locked his apartment door before turning to face the narrow flight of stairs that stood between him and his goal.

With a grimace and half-shuffled step from the platform, his knee ached in protest as it bent to then hop down to the first step of many, only for his foot to slip on ice that had been hidden under snow.

The grip on the banister's railing was the only thing that kept him from sliding down the rest of the way. His thumb reached around to touch his ring and pinkie finger with its hold.

The opposite hand pressed down on the metal head of his cane, putting leverage onto the next step below before fixing his stance and trying to do better with the next hop. The same problem repeated, and his rear end landed harshly onto the freezing wood.

He refused to move out of pure spite at first. But with his body heat melting the snow and turning it into a puddle, the wet spot growing on his backside was not something he wanted to explain.

Glaringly, his eye scanned the street below, even glancing into his neighbors’ windows to make sure no one would see as he began scooting down each step, one at a time.

Seventeen steps later, and one very soaked bottom, saw Levi standing with a grumbling huff before turning the corner to the front of his tea shop.

“What a shit morning.” _______________________________________

“It’s snowing…”

How…

How did you get here?

Standing on a busy dock.

In a tattered wedding dress.

On an island, you had never set foot on before.

The sensation of something in your right hand made you look down at what it held. An obscenely large wad of money was neatly wrapped, held in place by a rubber band.

Oh, that’s right.

You were supposed to be getting married, right now.

Great Aunt Gertrude gave you the funds when you were zipped into the white gown this morning.

She had said something about, ugh, what was it she said?

“Just in case you change your mind.”

She had always been one to be blunt and to the point, which especially rang true for how useless she found your fiancé to be. To be fair, she wasn't wrong.

When she handed you the money, your best friend entered the dressing room to announce that your fiancée was missing. Everyone at the wedding party had been looking for him for over an hour.

It was understandable how worried you had been—what if he had been kidnapped or worse?

But nothing could have prepared you when you did find him, nothing.

It was by pure chance that you had heard the odd noises coming from the cleaning closet. When you opened the door, there was your fiancé; pants dropped down to his ankles as he pathetically thrust into another woman.

That moment felt as if it had lasted forever and simultaneously ended in a second. No one said anything, and all three of you were frozen in shock—them at being caught and you processing what you just saw.

The door had closed slowly with an ear-scratching creak. You may not remember much from that moment on, but you remember locking the door on them. No doubt forcing another person in the wedding party to find them together much later.

But you were already long gone by then.

And now you were here, where ever here was.

You watched as people walked by you, giving strange looks as you stood in the middle of the docks. It can't be blamed for the townsfolk gawking and looking away awkwardly at the sight of you. It was clear that whatever you had just been through was messy and held heft in its experience.

“Miss?”

Your body flinched at someone touching your arm gently. Turning, you look down to see a woman with a concerned expression. She stood barely at your chest, curly graying hair held back with a hand-knitted headband.

She spoke again. “Are you alright, love?”

You couldn't respond, mouth and throat refusing to make a noise as you stared at her blankly. The woman was of short and round stature, with small freckles covering her face.

And those green eyes, filled with concern. She took a moment to give you a once over before gently reaching, placing a hand at the small of your back, the other barely putting pressure on your upper arm as she started to walk and guide you.

“How about we get you out of the cold and warmed up hm?” You could not place her accent, but the tone was comforting. The kind someone uses when coaxing an injured animal.

As the woman guided across the icy cobblestoned road to a small Pub, your body was on autopilot. Once inside, the warped wooden floors creaked with each step. She pulled a chair for you to sit next to the roaring fireplace, telling you to stay there and warm up while she went and got some tea.

You didn't realize you had been cold until the warmth of the fire started to spread from your knee's up to your chest. Goosebumps cover your skin painfully, as shivers start small before growing into full body tremors, increasing to the point your teeth feel like they are going to chatter out of your jaw bones.

The heat started to bring you back to your body, painfully cold and sore, all weighing into the muscles. Exhaustion started to wallop you. Between the emotional shock, the running, and the freezing temperatures, it was no wonder you felt like you could have fallen asleep sitting up in that chair.

When your head bounced for a second time, fighting to stay awake, the woman from earlier returned to your side, holding a mug of hot tea for you.

“Poor thing, trembling like a leaf in the wind.”

When your hands first grasped the mug, you almost dropped it.

The warmth of the porcelain stinging against the sensitivity of your almost hypothermic skin. Wincing through the initial pain, you held the mug close to your chest as the woman draped the shawl she wore around your shoulders, its fibers already warmed from her body heat.

The sound of wood being scrapped against filled the empty PUB as she dragged a chair for herself, sitting in front of you. Again, you were at the mercy of your body as you could only stare at her. The fires light a stark contrast to the dark greyness that was outside. The window behind her showed snow had started falling in thick squalls.

No wonder you were freezing.

Looking from the window back to the woman, you found her pulling out a small pipe and filling it with a smoking mix from a leather pouch.

Both of you sat in silence, watching her pack and light the mixture before inhaling deeply and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air. She turned to look at you again, a sympathetic smile on the corner of her lips.

“Is there someone I can send word to for you? Family, friends?”

You looked into the mug as faces of wedding guests flashed before your mind's eye; clenching brows and lids shut, you gently shook your head and whispered, voice hoarse.

“No.”

A soft hum came from the woman’s chest as she nodded before looking back at the fire.

“If you would like, I can take you home. Where do you live?”

You fought the tremble that tried to start in your bottom lip; shaking your head again, you whispered back.

“I-I can’t go back there.”

Silence fell between the both of you again. Slowly, careful not to spill the mug’s contents as your fingers still tingled to life, you took a first sip. Your eyes closed as its warmth ran down from your throat.

Realization of how thirsty you were pushed to the front as you began taking larger swallows. Once its contents were empty, it was placed on the small table next to you. Body curling on itself as you scooted closer to the fire’s glow. Try as you might, but it was hard to think of or feel anything.

“Well, if you don’t have a place to stay, you shouldn't go out in this weather. I’ll make up one of the rooms for ya.” Before you had the chance to protest, she shook her head with a warm smile as she tapped her pipe to ash it into the fireplace. “No fuss now. I’m the owner of the INN, and my husband Frank is the owner of the PUB. We take pride in looking after folks, especially those needing it.”

When you had tried to offer money to pay for her kindness, she scoffed and began filling a large copper tub with hot water, refusing to even look at the cash in your outstretched hand.

“Now. I’ll bring you some clean clothes and some food. You get some rest; no one will bother you until it’s time for breakfast. But just in case you don’t want to be alone, I’ll be just downstairs.”

“Thank you, misses…?

“Meyer, Martha Meyer. And there’s never a need to thank me.”

A quick glance into the mirror of the bathroom had you sighing.

Eyes raccooned from tears streaking your makeup. Your hands were covered in dirt, wrists and elbows scratched up after falling in the garden when you ran out the back of the church. The lower half of your dress was dotted with small amounts of blood from your calves, lace shredded, all from the thorns of the rose bushes you sprinted through to escape faster.

When you finally managed to get into the bath, a hiss left your lips at the sting of hot water, cleaning the minor abrasions. It took what little energy you had left to wash and scrub the dirt out, dry your hair, and get into the pajamas left out for you.

The room was warming up from the small fireplace across from the twin-sized bed. After the last bite of soup, you lay down and cried yourself to sleep.

I am really going to enjoy writing about Levi's adjustments and personality around having physical impairments. The reason is that, if you don't know, my partner and I both suffer from chronic pain, and my partner has recently had to adjust to living in a wheelchair full-time. When you have these types of changes happen, suddenly, you begin to see the world is not built for folks with disabilities in mind. Levi wants to have his own tea shop and live in this particular town. As is his right, and he should be able to make that choice for himself. But the town's buildings were constructed so that apartments would be above where the business is. He had no choice but to deal with stairs every day, every season, even though it legitimately creates a safety hazard for him.

I think it's safe to say that if you really want to say that you love Levi's character—but the idea of him having disabilities, in the end, makes you uncomfortable and makes you not want to read anything that mentions them—you should really do a hard look at yourself and ask why that is. Anyway,

I love you all, and I hope you enjoy it and stay safe out there, my friends!

Tag list below ⬇️ If you would like to be added to Just Deserts tag list please comment to let me know.

Current Tag List:

@circulinho @angelofthorr

All cat art used on this blog are by the artist Valioart found on pintrest.

[myokk]

HIIIIIII this is your secret valentines 🥰. Just wanted to say I’m a massive fan of your work and you helped me get into HL. I’ve been a silent follower for AGES.

anyways- enough of that- what’s some cute things about Seb and My Wife™️’s relationship? Like- going through an M&M bag and only picking out idk green ones bc they’re their partners favourite. Or thinking about them whenever they see a colour.

HELLO SECRET VALENTINE♥️♥️♥️♥️

Omg when I find out who you are…🤭🫶 I CANT BELIEVE I AM PART OF WHAT GOT YOU INTO THIS FANDOM😭😭 I am just a humble girl with no chill..😆♥️♥️♥️

Pretend this is a drawing of you and your wife Eloise🥰🥰 SEBASTIAN WHO????😒

ANYWAYS onto your question🫶🫶

Eloise LOVES reading & she’s gotten Sebastian into reading muggle literature. She always laughs at him though bc before they met he considered himself an avid reader but all he was reading was magical non-fiction😆 (SO BORING🥱 WHERE ARE THE BRUTAL CHARACTER STUDIES…THE ADVENTURE…THE ROMANCE ???????) and now they have CRAZY long discussions on Dumas, Dostoyevsky, Shakespeare. She always loves hearing his perspective bc he considers things in a way she NEVER would♥️ (in happy ending land I consider them to be big patrons of the arts in the future)

He ALWAYS saves a slice of lemon tart (Eloise’s favorite food, which Sebastian figured out just by observation 🤭) if he sees that it during meals🫶 and, another food-related thing: at breakfast they work in tandem, Eloise stirring some honey into her oatmeal as she hands the cinnamon to Sebastian, and he’s always reaching across to grab some cherries for her🫶

The two of them just very quickly found themselves comforted and comfortable in each others’ presence, something that they had never experienced before.

If you’ve read my oneshots that are Eloise but not named (😆) (I’ve expanded a bit on her personality in a way I can’t yet with my angst fic) you know she is VERY quick to be flustered but she HATES IT & never wants to show emotions if she can help it (unless of course she is getting her revenge😇). Sebastian LOVES this part of her though, AND he loves the fact that he’s the only one that can truly get her to open up and see her for who she really is.

Sebastián smells like cinnamon in my own little headcanon & it’s because he’s OBSESSED with it…adds it to his coffee, tea, oats, toast, WHATEVER. So there’s always a faint cinnamon scent clinging to him and his clothes and the smell starts to bring Eloise a lot of comfort once she associates it with him. Before, she wasn’t such a big fan of cinnamon but now?🤞💘🤭

I hope these answers make some sense!! My brain is still kind of mushy but I wanted to try my best and answer well🥹♥️♥️ HOPE YOURE HAVING A GREAT DAY !!!!!!!!

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy (solo or with your choice of partner) + journaling

Tommy stares at the text he just typed out, his heart racing as his thumb hovers over “send”. At the last moment, he decides: No. I can't do this. 

He deletes the words again, his stomach sinking as the moment of courage he had dissolves.

It’s not the first time this has happened. Tommy blames the silence. It creeps into his mind which has gotten so used to listening to Evan talking. Where Evan’s voice once had been there’s now a void and something inside Tommy aches to fill it with words before it can consume him.

There's so much he wants to say. Needs to say. But he couldn’t say the words when he left Evan and he can't say them to the person he's sure hates him now.

The ache stays. Nags. Opens a wound and deepens it. So Tommy opens the notes app and writes it all down there.

Every thought he has about himself. Every apology that wants to pour out of him. Everything that’s wrong with him. Everything he didn’t manage to tell Evan and won’t ever tell because Evan deserves better.

I’m not a hero. I’ve never been a hero. I’ve always been a coward.

I’m an idiot.

I never wanted to hurt you too. 

I miss you so much. Miss your smile, your eyes, the way you laugh, miss your warmth, miss the way your lips open and you don’t notice the world around you when you’re really focused, miss holding your hand at night, watching a movie with you, eating dinner with you and talking about the day. I miss you so much, I can barely breathe.

I hope you hate me. You should. You were so hopeful and honest when you said you wanted me to move in with you. And I am the coward who ran before he could see things happening because, in my experience, good things don’t last.

I’m not brave. Of course, you think I am. The truth is, I’ve always been hiding behind some kind of mask. Trying to pretend everything is alright. That I’m alright. I never wanted you to have to deal with all that baggage I’m carrying around. Now I wonder what you would have said if you caught a glimpse of it. It’s selfish, isn’t it? I wanted the good things. I didn’t want the bad things. But it should be both.

Sometimes I dream about going back to you. Asking you for another chance. Like you did. I wonder what you would say. In my dreams, you’re kind and understanding. Maybe I should try. What do I have to lose?

I’m sorry, Evan. * The sky is dark with smoke. Tommy wishes he could see the blue one more time.

Howie is not cracking jokes this time. Instead, he tells Tommy to hold on in a tense and focused voice.

Did my phone burn? Tommy wonders before he gives in and passes out. God. I hope so.

Thanks for asking! <3

(AO3 Link)

[inkbomber]

Composition notes, because I put a lot of thought into this piece:

I like to think of Robotnik as an elegant utilitarian, any pronouns out of convenience. I’ve been thinking trans fem thoughts about Robotnik for 4/5 months that I’ve been hyper focused on these movies. I don’t know why, exactly, but enough things pinged in my subconscious watching the movies that she got in there and won’t leave <3

Speaking to @mothric helped me sort a bunch of these feelings out, thank you for listening! and shoutout to @duckngk and @jubmato for playing in the same space! All ya’ll are incredible! No one creates in a void, and I’m so grateful for all the artists and writers in this fandom.

In case you didn’t know, Lili Elbe was a transgender woman and artist, who started dressing in women’s clothing when she modeled for her wife’s paintings. She died after complications from surgery, after being the first person to get a uterus transplant.

I chose to base this piece on “Lili y Gerda” because I consider Stone’s love and care to be an essential element of a happy doctor. I spend a lot of time covering the support Stone gives Robotnik in “The Point of Invention” because I think he provides the doctor with the space to grow and change as they need, while still having the confidence that they are loved. Something about the parallel of Gerda providing that avenue of expression to her partner really called to themes I was already focused on for my fic, so that’s why I chose this particular painting as a base.

Now, you might think I had robotnik winking in the sketch because I was having trouble drawing the second eye. Incorrect! Drawing badniks is hard lol. On the theme of safety: Robotnik is never in danger, always protected by the narrative and her killing machines both. Part of this is Stone’s protective nature, but the other is Robotnik’s own competence at work. Her machine’s are a part of her, and her children, and her tools. They are her eyes and ears where she cannot be. The red in their eyes/on her coat is that RGB shade that you can’t print, purely digital. The background is watery and indistinct because they’re in a world of their own.

The textures I chose on the brushes are also purposeful. I wanted to emphasize the badnik and the clothing as pieces of art, while I used the pixel stippling to shade as a digital contrast on the biological organisms. The black paint that smears over both Robotnik and Stone is to help emphasize their sameness, the way they are a unit, the way their motives smear into each other and compliment each other. I decided to keep the sketchy lines instead of creating cleaner line art, evolution of the piece is part of the theme, here. It’s all a work in progress, and the evidence of the labor is just as important as the result.

Thanks for reading!

POV: you’re at the Robotnik Enterprises holiday party and the CEO and their bodyguard are doing their Morticia and Gomez Thing

Inspired by “Lili y Gerda” by Gerda Wegener

[touchlikethesun]

ahaha my mom thinks i can’t hear bc i have headphones on (sometimes i can’t but right now they’re just on to block out white noise) and she’s telling my father how worried she is that i’m going to feel isolated and alienated from the family now that both of my brothers have serious girlfriends that they bring home and i don’t have a partner. to which i am fighting back cruel laughter. as if my brothers getting girlfriends are the thing that’s going to make me feel isolated and alienated, as if i haven’t been subtly but noticeably excluded, and alienated by virtue of being different, by every person in this family for at least 15 years. so yk bit too late to be having these “fears” imo

[helloimtired]

never being anyone’s best friend or the most important person in anyone’s life, ever, can really fuck you up emotionally

[yeoningz]

SERENE

YOU DID SO WELL ON THISSSS!!! i’ve always been iffy about serial killer or murderer aus but this. this has swayed me im craving more !!!

beomgyu is written so well in this!! he’s so scary but so hot … idk how to feel about it tbh LOL

this was such a great opening piece !!! i’m lost for what to say AND THE ENDING SHUT UPPP

you blow me away each and every time i stg. u r a goddess in my eyes

“Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. “

heehee THE CONFLICTTTT

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

omg… it going back and forth in time… i love the way you plotted this out

“But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. “

i love the opening line to this paragraph sm… I NEED HIM TERRIBLY why do u have me simping hard for such a terrible man…. shame on you /j

mc has no idea what’s in for her does she. smh

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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