#and the underlying message too it’s just yeah it’s just

[robertsbarbie]

i’m gonna be so real with yall that was a really hard album to listen to and not like in a bad way it just, it’s so raw and human and beautiful and ultimately devastating. there was so much love and trying and in the end it wasn’t enough, but that love is never lost and it can’t be defined from one place, the torture it causes can’t be defined, it’s a letter filled with loss. and it’s just yeah it’s hard to listen to.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

When Sweet Turns Sour

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Lando's intense love and jealousy, while initially endearing, gradually strain his relationship as his insecurities begin to overshadow their happiness.

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, emotional strain, insecurities, emotional manipulation

________________________________________________________

A Little Jealousy Never Hurt Anyone

You and Lando had been dating for almost a year now, and it was nothing short of amazing. He was everything you ever wanted—funny, caring, and incredibly sweet. Sure, dating a Formula 1 driver came with its own set of challenges, but you knew what you were signing up for when you fell for him.

One thing you didn’t quite expect, however, was just how jealous he could get. It started out as little things—like the time you were chatting with his teammate, Carlos Sainz, at a race weekend. Lando had walked up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side.

“Hey, lovebirds, what are you talking about?” he asked with a smile, though you noticed the way his grip on your waist tightened just a little.

“Just the race,” you replied, not thinking much of it. Carlos had simply been asking about your thoughts on the track, and you’d given your honest opinion. But Lando’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, well, don’t let him bore you with too much car talk,” Lando joked, but the slight edge in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

You found it endearing at first—how protective he was, how he seemed to care so much about who you talked to and how close you were to others. It made you feel special, like you were his number one priority. But as time went on, the jealousy started to wear on you.

Sweet Turns Sour

It was after a particularly long day at the track that things took a turn. You were at a team event, mingling with the drivers and their partners. Lando was busy chatting with some of the engineers, so you found yourself in a conversation with Daniel Ricciardo, who always had a way of making you laugh.

“Honestly, the way Lando handled that corner today was brilliant,” Daniel said, shaking his head with admiration. “But you should’ve seen his face when he crossed the finish line—priceless.”

You chuckled, picturing Lando’s victorious grin. “He does have a way of making everything look easy.”

As you continued talking, you didn’t notice Lando approaching until he was right beside you. His smile was forced, and there was a certain tension in his posture that you’d come to recognize.

“Hey, mate, mind if I steal my girlfriend back?” Lando’s tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

Daniel, ever the jokester, raised his hands in mock surrender. “All yours, mate. All yours.”

You felt a little embarrassed as Daniel walked away, sensing the jealousy radiating off Lando. As soon as you were alone, Lando pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, but his grip was almost too firm, as if he was trying to remind you that you were his.

“You okay?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

“Yeah, just missed you,” he mumbled, though you could hear the strain in his voice. “I don’t like it when other guys make you laugh like that.”

You smiled, trying to reassure him. “You’re the only one who can really make me laugh, Lando.”

The Overprotective Side

It wasn’t long after the Daniel incident that another side of Lando’s jealousy began to emerge—his overprotectiveness. You were out shopping one afternoon, enjoying the rare downtime together. As you were browsing through clothes in a store, a friendly shop assistant approached you, offering help. He was polite, probably in his mid-twenties, and just doing his job.

But Lando’s eyes narrowed the moment the guy started talking to you. The assistant complimented a dress you were holding, saying it would look great on you. Before you could even respond, Lando stepped forward, placing himself between you and the assistant.

“She doesn’t need any help, thanks,” Lando said curtly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders possessively.

The assistant blinked, taken aback by Lando’s abruptness. “Of course, just let me know if you need anything,” he said before quickly retreating.

“Lando, that was a bit much, don’t you think?” you asked gently once the assistant was out of earshot.

Lando sighed, his expression softening as he looked at you. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“He was just being nice,” you pointed out, but Lando’s jaw tightened.

“Maybe. But you’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but smile at how fiercely he wanted to protect you, but a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more about his insecurities than anything else.

The Social Media Incident

The second time his jealousy flared up was through social media. You had posted a picture on Instagram from a night out with some friends. It was a harmless photo—just you and a couple of friends, including a guy you had known for years. The comments were mostly positive, but one stood out to Lando: the guy friend had commented with a fire emoji and a simple “Looking great!”

Lando saw it before you even had a chance to reply. The next thing you knew, he was in your messages, not angry, but clearly annoyed.

“Who’s that guy?” Lando asked, even though you’d introduced him to your friend several times before.

“Just a friend, Lando. You know him,” you replied, trying to downplay the situation.

“Yeah, but why is he commenting like that on your picture? Doesn’t he know you’re taken?” Lando’s jealousy was evident in his words, though he tried to mask it with a casual tone.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement. “Lando, it’s just a compliment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Still, I don’t like it,” he admitted. “I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

You reassured him that he had nothing to worry about, but the possessiveness in his voice lingered in your mind.

The Party Dilemma

One evening, you and Lando attended a party hosted by one of his friends. The night was going well until you started chatting with one of the other guests, a charming guy who was also a big F1 fan. He was asking you about what it was like to date Lando, clearly starstruck by the fact that you were with one of his idols.

Lando, who had been across the room, noticed you talking to the guy. You saw him making his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on you. By the time he reached you, he had that familiar tight-lipped smile on his face.

“Hey, everything okay over here?” Lando asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question.

The guy, oblivious to Lando’s mood, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, man, just asking your girlfriend what it’s like to be with an F1 driver. Must be a crazy life.”

Lando slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “It is, but she handles it like a pro,” he said, but there was a possessive edge to his tone.

The conversation quickly fizzled out, and once the guy left, Lando turned to you, his expression softening.

“Sorry if I came on too strong,” he murmured, his fingers brushing your cheek. “I just hate seeing other guys all over you.”

“They weren’t all over me, Lando,” you gently corrected him, but he just shook his head, pulling you closer.

“To me, it feels like they are,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The Photographer Incident

During one of Lando’s races, you were approached by a photographer who asked if he could take some candid shots of you for a feature about F1 drivers’ partners. You agreed, thinking it would be fun and not really a big deal.

The photographer was friendly, making you laugh as he snapped photos. But Lando, who had just finished a debrief, noticed from a distance. The moment he saw the two of you together, he made a beeline for you, his expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join in?” Lando asked, his tone light but his eyes serious as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The photographer, sensing the tension, quickly wrapped up the session.

As soon as the photographer left, Lando turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t like how close he was getting,” he admitted.

“He was just doing his job,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but notice how tightly Lando was holding you.

“Maybe. But I don’t like sharing you,” he said with a small, possessive smile.

You chuckled, trying to brush it off, but the intensity of his words lingered in your mind long after.

The Touchy Subject

The final straw came during a dinner with some friends. One of them, a guy you’d known since childhood, was particularly affectionate—nothing out of the ordinary for someone you’d grown up with. He would playfully nudge you, drape an arm around your shoulder, and joke around like you were siblings.

Lando, however, didn’t see it that way.

Throughout the dinner, you noticed Lando’s grip tightening on his utensils every time your friend got a little too close. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were locked onto the two of you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable.

At one point, when your friend made a joke and lightly squeezed your shoulder, Lando abruptly stood up, startling everyone at the table.

“I need some air,” he muttered, not even looking at you as he walked out of the restaurant.

You excused yourself and followed him outside, finding him pacing near the entrance. He looked up when he saw you, his expression a mix of anger and frustration.

“Lando, what’s going on?” you asked, genuinely concerned.

“I can’t stand it,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “The way he touches you, like he has any right to… It drives me crazy.”

“He’s just a friend, Lando,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “He’s always been like that. There’s nothing between us.”

“But there could be,” Lando snapped, then immediately regretted his words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I hate the thought of losing you to someone else.”

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re not going to lose me, Lando. But you need to trust me, trust us.”

He sighed, leaning into your touch. “I do trust you. It’s just… I love you so much, and sometimes it scares me. I don’t want anyone else to have what we have.”

His confession was heartfelt, but it also made you realize just how deep his insecurities ran. You loved Lando, and you knew he loved you just as fiercely. But his jealousy was becoming more than just a quirk—it was starting to overshadow the good moments, making you question where the line between love and possessiveness should be drawn.

As you stood there, holding him close, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could handle the sweet turning sour.

[astrolynnworld]

eiffle tower

pairing: matt & chris x reader

summary: chris sees the way you look at matt. so he gives you the opportunity to have both

warnings: smut! cheating, plot twist, exhibition, degradation, praise, language, oral, penetration, switch matt, dom chris, pig roast, little bit of aftercare.

a/n- the highly requested duo smut 😩

word count: 2,073

i love chris so much but .. sometimes i can’t help the idea of “what if i had chose matt instead”

he carries himself so well and despite the fact that they’re triplets.. i really do see him as another version of chris

the version that is more tame.

whenever he sits with us at dinner and he just looks so pretty and proper

just eating his meal, observing the conversation, sharing a joke here and there.

he’s not too loud or quiet, he’s the perfect middle ground of enjoyable.

and he’s so caring towards me when chris isn’t around

he’s cooking? he’ll serve me first. dropped my phone? he’ll pick it up for me. too anxious to speak up? he’ll talk for me, regardless of the fact that he also has anxiety.

maybe it’s because i’m his brothers girlfriend but i just sense the underlying message of care

often times then not, chris will catch me staring off into a haze at matt.

i always have to play it off as if i just got lost in thought.

i mean i did get lost in thought..

the thought of matt’s eyes rolled back as i strok-

“y/n??” matt snaps me back into focus

“mhm?” i question as i stand at the fridge door aimlessly

“i think you dozed off again” he laughs slightly, “did you hear what i said?”

i shake my head no softly as i take a seat on the chairs behind me

“you okay?” he asks while inching closer and putting a hand on my shoulder

i look up at him standing over me

“i’m fine” i mutter out

“you’ve been out of it a lot lately. wanna know what would help?” he asks rhetorically

you.

“what?” i say before chris walks into the kitchen

“a hot tub?” chris answers, acknowledging that he had heard a bit of our conversation

“you always wanna go to the hot tub” i laugh as i switch my gaze to him

“it’s not the worst idea chris has had” matt remarks

“i could be down for a hot tub” i reply enthusiastically now that matt is down

“i’ll go ask nick if he wants to come while you guys get ready” matt says

“wait im coming with” chris follows behind matt

i walk back into the bedroom and roam around for something to wear

shortly after, chris comes back into the room

“nicks not coming, he has a fever” he informs as he tries to grab his swim shorts

i nod my head and sit on the bed as i watch him change

“see something you like?” he flirts as he slowly approaches me

“a whole lot” i smile as i look up to him for a kiss

“alright love birds. we can go now” matt comes in fully dressed

i grab my bag and quickly follow behind matt

our go to hot tub spot was at the warehouse, which was only 10 minutes away from their house

once we get there, matt grabs his key card so he can unlock the gate to the pool

we trail around the side of the pool and make our way to the hot tub

they both take off their shirts before stepping into the hot tub

i could see the masculine structure lining in their backs

the broadness of their shoulders

the width of their arms as they lean back against the wall of the hot tub

i’m so lucky that i at least get to fuck one of them bec-

“wait! i forgot my headphones at the warehouse last time. i need to grab them before i forget again” chris says in a hurry as he gets out the hot tub and makes his way back to the house

“and bring some towels please” matt shouts after him

“watch him come back with none” i chuckle at his attempt

“no yeah for sure. kids gonna come back with a pepsi and forgot what he even went in for” he says as we share a laugh

“how do you even put up with him?” he says in a curious manner

“what do you mean?” i question

he starts to inch closer from the other side of the hot tub

“i see how you act, you’re not like him. you’re polite.. clean.. civil.. well mannered. how do you put up with him?” he says while fully towering me

“i- we- well because i love him” i nervously speak

“do you love him? because i see the way you look at me y/n”

i freeze in my spot

“you think i don’t notice but i do. you’d rather be with me huh? you’d rather it be me that you lay with every night right?” he taunts over me

“me who fucks you to sleep? every. single. night.” he whispers into my ear

“matt what are you doing..” i shyly whisper out

“say it baby. say you want me instead” he puts his nose to mine

i look into his eyes, “i want you instead”

he closes the gap between our lips with passion

sloppily pulling away and going back in for more as he wraps his hands around my waist

i feed into the passion, feeling a fire of energy ignite in me

“i KNEW it.”

i heard a voice speak from above us

i jump back from matt’s arms as i look up to see an angry chris standing outside the hot tub

matt starts to slowly back away as chris gets back in the hot tub and comes straight for me

he grabs my throat, “you’re such a slut. making out with my brother when i’m less than 30 feet away? you thought i wouldn’t find out or you just didn’t care?” he asks

i stay silent as i try to release his grip from my throat. only making him squeeze harder

“you know.. i had a feeling you were a slut. that’s why i put him up to this”

————————————————————

earlier:

“wait i’m coming with” i followed behind matt

after y/n walks back to my room i stop matt in his tracks

“i might need you to do a weird favor for me.” i speak hesitantly

matt was a great brother but i don’t know how deep that great would go for me

“what?” he asks

“i need you to tempt y/n into cheating on me”

“.. why the fuck would i do that?” he questions

“i’ve been seeing the way she looks at you recently. i need to know if she would or wouldn’t fold”

he can hear the genuineness in my voice. i wouldn’t ask him to do something like this if i wasn’t serious

i still love her..

i just needed to know if she likes him or not, how far she was willing to go about it.

“alright bro. i’ll try” he says before continuing to walk up to nick’s room

————————————————————

present:

i gasp as i start to find it hard to breathe.

he lets go of my throat and pulls my hair back so i can look him in the eyes

“you wanna fuck my brother so bad right?”

he pulls my head back to matt

“here. have him”

he turns me around and bend me over in front of matt

“bro.. i don’t know about-“ matt starts to speak

chris grabs my throat and shrinks down to my face, “tell him how much you want him baby. tell him how you want him to put it in. beg for it”

i silently stare at him in shock of his new aggression

“tell him.” he slaps my cheek

“please put it in matt.” i turn back and speak

“beg him for it” chris continues

“please matt, i beg you. just put your cock inside me”

matt slides my bathing suit to the side and slowly starts to align himself with my hole despite the water making it hard to see

“good girl” chris speaks before placing a kiss on the cheek he just slapped

matt lets out a heavy breath as he slides himself along my walls

i gasp as i feel the added pressure

“feels good doesn’t it baby? feels good to be a slut right?” chris speaks

i nod my head with my pout

“say it baby. say it feels good to be a slut” chris adds in

“it feels good to be a slut” i whimper out as i back into matts cock while he meets me halfway

chris traces his fingers against my lips, “who’s slut are you?”

“yours chris. i do whatever you say” i whine out as i squint my eyes from the feeling of matt’s cock hitting against my cervix

“mhmm. so good for me baby” chris says as he pushes his fingers in my mouth for me to suck

i can faintly hear matt trying to hold back his moans and whimpered pleasure as he feels my walls suck him in

the tightness of my walls clenching and pulling around him as he struggles to identify wether it’s the warm silky wetness is from me, or the hot tub.

shutting his eyes to focus on the pleasure

chris on the other hand, is so turned on by the idea of me getting slutted out for his pleasure

he likes the idea of another man being able to enjoy me like he does

i can see the bulge peering out through his swim shorts

i couldn’t let him go attentionless so i free his cock and start to jerk it under the water

he pulls away from me and slaps me once again

“did i give you permission to touch me slut?”

i pout and shake my head no

he places his cock on my cheek, “fuck. i could cover your whole face baby”

“please put it in my mouth daddy” i beg, tired of the teasing

“you want me to face fuck you baby? you wanna be a good girl and let daddy face fuck you?” he rhetorically questions

“yes please. please put your cock in my mouth and use me to your pleasure” i whine out before he shoves his cock in my mouth and starts to fuck into me

it’s like every time chris pulls out of my mouth, matt pushes into my hole. and when chris pushes back in, matt pulls out

it was a back and forth train of stimulation that sent my head into a spiral

i lost all my thoughts and all i could focus on was the whines and whimpers that poured out of my mouth into chris’s cock

“fuck keep moaning baby. it feels so good around my cock” chris whines out

“you’re squeezing- around my cock y/n.. fuck i don’t know how much longer i’m gonna last.” matt throws his head back as he starts to speed up the pace, sending me flying into chris’s dick

i know im gonna cum soon. i just feel so dirty, getting fucked and stuffed by two brothers in a public hot tub. it felt so nasty and so wrong, i couldn’t help but think of how hot that was

and imagining if someone caught us. how gross and nasty they would think i am. how much of a slut im being right now. fuck i’m gonna cum

i squeeze around matts cock as i let out my orgasm.

as soon as i finish i feel matt pull out of me, followed by trickles of warm liquid splatter all over my back.

“you’re such a fucking slut baby. you let guys cum all over you? you like when guys treat you like a fucking toy and use you to their liking?” chris continues to degrade

“fuck i’m gonna cum baby.” he finishes his final thrusts before coating my throat with his cum

he pulls out and i sit up in the hot tub with a fucked out expression, not being able to think for myself.

tears dry up against my face from not being able to breathe

matt starts to fix and play with my hair while chris wipes my eyes

“it’s okay baby, i still love you” chris says as kisses into my lips

i don’t respond. still trying to regain my sense

“we should probably get her back to the house” matt suggests

“yeah. let’s go” chris adds before he picks me up and carries me back to the car in a cradle position.

————————————————————

a/n- hope yall enjoyed 😘 i put my back into this one fr

taglist: @sturniologirlfriend @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Lando/Oscar (Part 2)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

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you can find part 1 here

nsfw: fly the ocean (in a silver plane) by @settsplitt | E | 2.6k Lando and Oscar are fighter jet pilots who share a room on base. Oscar doesn’t seem to think much about the risk of what they do, but it consumes Lando. This is an excellent character study and builds such a big world out of very brief moments. “Hot” and “existential worry” hold hands in a circle around this fic.

He’s practically fucking useless in the briefs and debriefs. He just feels his brain slipping away, to the sky and the seas and angels 10. He knows other people are noticing, but honestly, if they want him to be normal they should fucking put him back with Oscar. None of it matters, anyway, because Lando never has any control.

nsfw: Keep Talking by @wanderingblindly | E | 2.7k This is such a beautifully written fic! The trust and comfort here is really moving - it's a soft, syrupy sort of story, that unfolds beautifully. Love it!

With practiced hands, he slides his fingers into Lando’s curls and scratches lightly at his scalp. It shoots like lightning down Lando’s neck, ringing in his ears. 

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) by @ipleadbritney | T | 3.5k Soulmates. Lando and Oscar are pulled aside by the FIA, suspected of an illegal soulbond. What I liked about it: The character voices in this story are absolutely spot on. It's Oscar's point of view and his anxiety about the situation underlying his calm demeanor is a delicate balance this author depicts beautifully.

“Yeah?” Oscar wonders which version of Lando he'll get. Will it be the one who's hyper focused on every tiny detail, including the curls of his hair? Will it be the one who's living proof why some kids deserve to be leashed? Or will it be the Lando who flirts as much as he breathes, one step away from launching his OnlyFans account?

nsfw: Reasons Why Lando Norris Might Be A Werewolf by @fenesacha | E | 3.9k Oscar, a werewolf, starts to notice small things about his teammate that may mean Lando is a werewolf too. (He's not.) What I like it: This fic is funny and breezy with great dialogue and an Oscar perfectly happy to shift gears and take it in stride when he realises Lando isn't a werewolf, but he is something else Oscar hadn't expected.

“Your dick comes off?” Oscar blurts out before he can stop himself. Lando stares at him like he’s stupid, which makes a change. “I don’t have a dick, Oscar. It’s a packer.” Right. Oscar’s not entirely sure what a packer is, but he’s got the gist of it all. “No dick. Okay. That’s cool.” “Is it?” “Yeah, mate.” Oscar’s not a bigot, he’s just having to mentally correct every fantasy he’s had for the past God-knows-how-many years. “You’re trans, then?” “Yeah, but it’s not common knowledge, so don’t go telling all your friends.” Lando turns his head so that he’s looking at Oscar, then frowns. “Wait, so you’re not trans?” “Uh, no?” “Huh, thought you were. You give off those vibes.”

worth the trouble (it was an honour) by @maaxverstappen | G | 4.6k Oscar and Lando started something, knowing it would end. It's all sweeter than it is bitter. I'm absolutely entranced by this fic. The emotion comes across so clearly, such a perfect, gentle bittersweet feeling. I don't re-read fics often, and this is one i've found myself returning to regularly.

They were always good at that, talking without words. Sometimes, and Oscar would never admit this, he would think cough twice if you hear this, being both surprised and relieved when Lando stayed quiet.

nsfw: you signed up for this by @strawberry-daiquiris | E | 6.9k This is a wonderful magical realism au where older!Oscar time travels back and teaches Oscar how to treat Lando properly. I think writing the same character twice and all that separates them is time gone by is so impressive. it really shows great writing skills and characterisation. The smut was obviously so well written but what I loved so dearly about this is how philosophical it was, so much growth for these characters within a single evening. A true must read for the landoscar community!!

He’s looking at himself, like some kind of fucked up mirror at a funfair. It’s him, but there are lines he doesn’t recognise, a heft to his upper body he can’t feel. His face looks older, and his teeth annoyingly, a little straighter. Oscar finds, to his horror, that this is him but hotter. Less hair though, at least there’s that. “Hello.” Not-him-but-him says, with a little wave and a sideways smile. Next to him, Lando giggles, and when Oscar turns to look at him he’s returning the wave, wiggling his fingers and letting the sheet he’d pulled up to his neck drop to right below his nipples. “Stop flirting with him!” Oscar exclaims, then reconsiders his point. “Or me. Or... alright, actually mate, who the fuck are you?”

force majeure by debrief | T | 7k Oscar and Lando get bodyswapped. The author absolutely nails the voices of both characters, Lando's chaotic way of speaking versus Oscar's more measured tone. Its largely constructed as a series of text messages until the last act, which is an inspired way of showing when a character is freaking out - Lando's messages in particular get more incoherent and full of typos when he's upset. The way they gradually draw toward one another as their situation isolates them (anyone else they confide in is erased from existence after), being one another's strength and comfort and support, is really beautiful to watch unfold.

craving for caprficns sn caprin sc capri sus suns capri suns and like so theyre usually on the lower shelf in ther corner i kown cause i alswasy get then here even tho theyre pricier priceri pricier and like they werent there and i double checked i asked the emploeye that was stocking the shelves in the next aisle and she sad said she dones t know what a capri usn is?? she even asked me if it was a zodiac sun zodiac sign shit i cant cry over caprin sun osc

nsfw: love along the way by @gaslybottoms | E | 10k AU, sex work/adult entertainment. Oscar is a videographer for an adult entertainment studio. Lando is one of the performers. Oscar sees Lando struggling emotionally after intense scenes and wants to help him. Lando, though, is very reluctant to accept it. This is a wonderful fic - Oscar is hurting so badly for Lando and is desperate to comfort him, but he can only be brushed off so many times before he gives up. He is so worried for Lando that he misses signs of distress in himself, which ends up bringing about a resolution to the situation in a way nobody (including me!) expected.

It’s cheesy. A line literally straight from a porno, and one Oscar has heard so many times over the last year or so. He shouldn’t find himself hating the way it sounds, curling around Jenson’s tongue as he chases his release. He’s not even a bad guy. Outside of filming, Oscar likes him. He’s always up for a laugh, and he makes an effort to get to know about all the people that work in the agency, not just the actors he’s supposed to do scenes with. He’s always supportive, offering advice from a mature point of view. And yet. Right now, Oscar can’t stand him. The way that he gets to take care of Lando in a way that Oscar can’t, because Lando doesn’t open up to him the same way. The way of telling Oscar how he feels, not how he might open up around Oscar’s -

the sun (in your eyes) by @wisteriagoesvroom | M | 11.3k Lando stumbles upon a flower shop. Oscar's flower shop, to be precise. This is a wonderful florist!Oscar au. What I love so dearly about this is that the author has taken the lyric/concept of "you don't have to say i love you to say i love you" and applied it to flower language. How creative and clever. I love how throughout this fic Oscar and Lando really become what the other person needs, they are always there for each other. All of it just feels so safe and comforting. The dialogue is witty and fun and the descriptions are really well rounded. And as the cherry on top, this was written For Me so its wonderfully perfect.

Home. Home is pine needles and Ribena and his first car and a return ticket to Heathrow and taking your seat at your local cafe and the baristas knowing your name. But home can also be this: an open door, a room full of flowers and green and life. A cup of your favourite tea and a snack you’ve come to associate with the word comfort. A conversation with a man who offers you a safe harbour, with no conditions to be anything other than to be what you are.

nsfw: you're burning up, i'm cooling down by @foggieststars | E | 12.3k Lando and Oscar have an understanding, Oscar doesn't get to come until Lando decides he's been good enough. This fic is so good and it might be my most reread f1 fic ever at this point. The dialogue is amazing and feels so real and on point for both Lando and Oscar. Their dynamic is so fun and sexy and well written and it makes so much sense for them and what I feel like landoscar would be. I lack the words to accurately describe how good this is: the writing, the plot, the sex are all phenomenal.

He teases Oscar about it, sometimes. How badly he wants it - to win, to be good. Lando asks him if he ever gets hard in the car out of some twisted desperation to please people. He loves thinking about Oscar’s muscled thighs clenching together in the car, vibrations running through his whole body, sparking little points of contact. So Lando lets the little game drag on into the race build-up sometimes, when Oscar is okay with it.

under my skin by @lellabellawrites | M | 16.8k An AU in which Oscar and Lando are serial killers who have a meet cute while dumping bodies, and fall in love. This fic absolutely floored me with how good it was, how this pair of incredibly dangerous people managed to focus all that intensity on one another. Their devotion to one another is absolutely touching, even if you can never forget what they do for fun. Oscar is methodical and calculating, Lando is more impulsive, which is perfect characterisation and shows how well they fit together, the Yin and Yang of it all. The ending left me breathless.

Oscar knows exactly who this man is now. The Quad County Killer sprung up last summer and has been on quite a spree lately. A handful of Oscar's kills have been attributed to him, which should be a relief from the extra cover it brings, but instead only pisses him off. This guy works recklessly, leaving his kills out in the open like he wants to be found out. Oscar would like the papers to give him a little more credit than that. "I work better alone." His disdain must be evident as the man relents with a sneer of disappointment. "Could you at least help me drag this down—" "No." "Fine." He takes one end of the duffel and heaves it over the curb with more strength than Oscar would have expected from his slender frame. "Did you sink yours or float?" "Sink. I'm not an idiot." "Alright. Rude."

you be time, i'll be space by littleplumtree | M | 50.8k Lando and Oscar are part of a space exploration team with the goal of finding sentient life outside of earth. why I like it: This author is a master of the details. Every piece, every detail, every action and reaction, they all serve to make the story richer and more vibrant. The characterization, too, feels comfortable and real. It's a joy to read.

With his eye to the microscope, Lando makes a heart wrenching little sound of relief. “Oh. Oh my god. There you are.” Oscar leans his elbows on the bench and stares into the tank. There’s nothing to see with the naked eye, but in that water is something that could one day, given all the time in the world, evolve into something like themselves. Maybe one day they’ll build pyramids and cry at sad movies and invent Tupperware and come up with a thousand different ways to insult each other online.

nsfw: Casual by @loquarocoeur | E | 95k AU, college roommates. Lando is perpetually horny and unlucky when it comes to hookups. He suggests that he and Oscar should just be friends with benefits, you know. Casual. Oscar agrees, even though he is madly in love with Lando and knows its a recipe for disaster. Lando gradually starts to realise the same. I am insane for just how good this fic is. It's not that the guys don't talk, they talk all the time and even communicate about their unique situation, they understand one another deeply and yet they still don't realise what space they occupy in one another's hearts. They are completely compatible in bed, if only they knew - Lando in particular is self conscious about the way he gets in bed and fights his very nature, all while not realising Oscar likes him that way. The angst is heavy but they get there in the end, while it has plenty of funny dialogue moments to lighten things. The characterisation is wonderful all round.

“So I stopped asking for sex and now we haven’t fucked in like five days which should be fine, but I don’t know, I’m getting desperate and he's just, like, fine, so maybe he doesn't need the sex, maybe he doesn't want the sex anymore, but he just can't admit it—” “Okay, Lando, I think you’re really overthinking—” “No! Because you see the fucking isn’t the only thing, the thing is that somehow we’ve sort of accidentally slept in the same bed for like a week and now we’re sort of fighting so I couldn’t sleep last night.” “Accidentally... For a week?”

[therealplaguedoctor]

hello there! hope you're having a good dayyy! may i request for logan sargeant one shot? introvert reader going to support his race for the 1st time in public and the camera pans to logan inside the garage, and then followed by her. i find it very cute and hope this make sense!

Good luck

Logan Sargeant x fem!introvert!reader

Summary- Y/n was rather introverted, she had been dating Logan for a little while. She hadn't attended any of his races yet mostly due to her job but with an underlying reason of not wanting the medias attention on her. She decided to surprise him one day and showed up to his race. The media has found a new wag.

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- none

F/c- none

A/n- I GOT MT FIRST REQUEST LETS GO!! I MADE IT GUYS! So I hope you like it anon! Also I'm sorry if I don't represented an introvert reader correctly personal I'm an ambivert leaning a bit more extroverted, so sorry if it's a bit off the mark. Also it is relatively short I wish I could have written a but more but I think it's short and sweet which I hope anon was looking for!!

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You gently smoothed out your clothes for the thousandth time. It was race day the busiest days during race week. You were just outside the paddock in the parking lot. There was so many journalists, cameras, and fans.

You pulled out our phone and opened your messages:

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You appreciated the media manager for Williams. She was a god send, you only met her once before but she made sure to make sure you were always comfortable. As well as texting you immediately when Logan crashes letting you know his status.

Anna appeared and smiled "Hey y/n" she smiled

"Hey" you said "good to see you"

"Nice to see you too" Anna said "follow me"

Anna quickly lead you to a staff entrance, which had no media or fans.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Anna quickly led you through the paddock luckily most of the media was distracted with the other drivers that no one noticed you.

People knew who you were, Logan has posted you to his Instagram announcing your relationship, with your permission of course. But fans were QUICK to find your social media causing you to private it. Or deactivate those accounts and make new ones.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As you entered the Williams garage to surprise Logan who was at the front of the garage, you were all giddy to surprise him. Little did you know the camera was following Logan showing him on the large screen.

As the camera was following Logan you called out his name. He looked over to you, a smile quickly appearing on his face. The camera zoomed out showing the whole interaction:

"Logan" you called

He looks up at you his familiar smile appears he ran over to you, and captured you in a hug. You laughed sharing a quick kiss. Little did you know:

The camera was still on you two. The crowed was cheering, looking out you see one of the tvs that have the live playing noticing yourself and Logan on the screen you quickly hide your face.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked quickly

"We're on the big screen" you said softly embarrassed as you didn't know how long you were on it.

He kissed the top of your head, "don't worry hun" he said as he took off his jacket and hid you from the camera.

"Thank you" You smiled

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

As the race had started the camera was on Logan as he was able to overtake one of the Haas cars. As soon as he overtook him. The camera panned to you as you sat in the garage, you smiled as you were watching the overtake.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

BREAKING NEWS: Y/n, Logan Sargeant's girlfriend, was spotted attending this grad prix in the Williams Garage!

User1 I knew it was her!!

User2 they need to show her more!!

User3 LOGAN HAS A GF????

User4 yeah they've been together for almost a year!

User5 why hasn't she been at the other races!! Worst wag

User6 Hey so Logan has said that she's introverted and HATES the media attention so he never asks her to go to them... so maybe don't assume shit

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You scrolled the comments of the f1 Twitter page that announced you were at the race.

"Hun what are you looking at?" Logan asked as he was drying his hair

"Twitter is talking about me" you said

"Y/n, why are you looking at Twitter?" He asked as he sat down next to you on the bed

"Most of the fans like me" you smiled

Logan smiled in response kissing your cheek "who wouldnt" he chuckled

"Logan," You asked "do you want me to attend more races?"

"Only if you want to" he smiled "but you do bring me good luck"

Fin.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 2

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af

NOTESજ⁀➴ hi everyone! here's the next chapter of TOTGA ❀ to stay updated with new chapter releases, you can follow the tag #tiiraameesuTOTGA, or leave a comment below to be added to the tagline♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

wcજ⁀➴ 7.8k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The practice room was a blur of noise—normally something you’d lose yourself in, but today, it felt distant. The hum of the synthesizer, the steady beat of Choso’s drums, the rhythmic pluck of Nanami’s bass—they all blended together into background noise. You weren’t really hearing any of it.

Your fingers dragged across the strings, the notes flat and hollow as you strummed through the song again. The chords meant nothing, and you didn’t even know why you were still holding the guitar.

Iori’s voice cut through the music, soft and steady, but it barely registered. Naoya, hunched over his equipment to your left, twisted knobs and layered beats into the track with quick, precise movements. The flashing lights of his console pulsed, but the sound was just another thing happening in a vacuum—detached and distant.

Your thoughts drifted, tangled in the events of last night.

Gojo, his laughter echoing above the party’s music. Gojo, dancing with Mina like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gojo, pulling her close, his hands on her waist.

And then the kiss.

The memory hit you like a crashing cymbal. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was passionate, intentional—the kind you’d only ever dreamed of sharing with him. It was the kind that told you exactly where you stood: on the outside, looking in.

Your fingers faltered on the strings, and the wrong chord echoed sharply, cutting through the music like a wrong note on a piano.

Iori stopped singing, turning to you immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

You flinched, realizing everyone was now looking at you. “Yeah, sorry. Just slipped up,” you said quickly, trying to adjust your grip on the guitar.

Iori frowned, her dark eyes soft with concern. She set her microphone down, resting her hand on her hip. “You’ve been off all morning,” she said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight.

Iori didn’t press further, though the look she gave you said she knew there was more. She straightened, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Alright, everyone, let’s take five before we start the next round,” she said, her voice light but firm enough to get the others moving.

The band began to disperse, Choso heading to grab water, Yu fiddling with his synth settings, and Naoya muttering something under his breath as he checked his laptop. Nanami leaned his bass against the wall and quietly stepped outside, likely for some air.

You made a beeline for the couch, slumping against it with a sigh. The soft cushions were a brief reprieve from the weight sitting heavy on your chest. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, only to be greeted by a flood of notifications.

Gojo.

You hadn’t replied to his last five attempts to contact you, each message growing more puzzled, more curious. The first few had been typical Gojo banter. Then the messages started asking if you were okay. By the fifth, there was a shift—an underlying concern.

"Is everything okay?"

You could practically hear his voice in your head. His obliviousness, the way he never thought twice about things that might actually matter to someone else. Part of you wanted to throw your phone across the room just to stop seeing his name pop up again. But you didn’t. Instead, you sent a simple reply back, not giving him anything he could really latch onto.

"Busy with band practice. Catch you later."

It was the perfect excuse. You were always "busy." With the band. With your gig. It was enough to get him off your back, for now.

You threw your phone down on the couch, face down, determined not to let Gojo’s messages ruin this moment. As much as everything about him felt like an ache you couldn’t ignore, you wouldn’t let it distract you.

Time seemed to fly during the short break, but soon Iori’s voice cut through the silence as she clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get back to it. From the top, everyone!”

You lifted your guitar, the weight familiar in your hands. You should’ve been able to just lose yourself in the music, but today wasn’t one of those days.

The first few bars went smoothly, and for a moment, you thought you were breaking through the fog. But then the chorus hit, and everything fell apart. Your fingers faltered, the sound wrong, the chords foreign. The song didn’t flow, like trying to speak a language you once knew but had forgotten.

The music grew hollow, pulling your mind back to Gojo—his carefree laugh, that damn kiss. You thought of the way Mina had melted into his arms, the kiss that had felt so natural. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but it did. Each thought dug deeper.

The worst part? You couldn’t even make yourself hate him for it.

Your fingers froze on the strings. Another missed note.

“Stop.”

Naoya’s voice sliced through the tension in the room, louder than the failed chord ringing in the air. “What the hell was that?”

You looked up, startled by the sudden harshness in his tone. Naoya’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowed, his lips curling in a scowl. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist, a feeling of unease creeping up your spine.

“What do you mean?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. It was obvious you hadn’t been playing your best, but the sting of his words made you defensive.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snapped, stepping closer, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “You’re distracted, and it’s fucking up the whole song. This isn’t the time to be spacing out. We have a gig coming up, remember? This is supposed to be our shot.”

You could feel your chest tightening, the weight of his criticism hanging in the air. You didn’t want to feel this way—not with Naoya. He was always blunt, but something about the bite in his words felt like a punch to the gut.

“Give it a rest, Naoya,” Iori’s voice cut in, her tone quieter but still firm. “We all know she’s having a rough time today. Lay off.”

But Naoya wasn’t having it. He shot her a quick glance, then turned back to you, his expression hardening. “She’s having a rough time?” he repeated, his voice rising. “We all have rough times, but we still show up and do our part. This is important, and you—” He pointed at you, his finger trembling with frustration. “—are holding us back.”

Your fingers tightened around the neck of your guitar, a dull thrum of anger mixing with the frustration already brewing inside you. How could he possibly understand?

Naoya’s words hit you harder than they should have, stinging deep into a part of you that you couldn’t ignore. Your grip on the guitar tightened as if it could somehow steady the storm brewing inside you.

“You’re holding us back,” Naoya repeated, his voice sharp like a knife. “We can’t afford to have you slacking off, not now.”

Yu, who had been mostly silent up until that point, shifted uncomfortably. He adjusted the dial on his synth, casting a glance at the rest of the band before speaking up. “Naoya, maybe dial it back a bit, yeah? We all know she’s not in the best headspace, but yelling isn’t gonna help anyone.” His words weren’t defensive of you, but they weren’t exactly in Naoya’s corner either.

Choso, seated behind his drums, tapped one of the cymbals lightly with his stick before speaking in his usual low, rumbling voice. “We all have our days, man. Doesn’t help to turn this into a fight. Just play the damn song.”

But Naoya wasn’t ready to back down. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening in frustration. “You two are just gonna let this slide? We’re on the edge of something big, and she’s acting like she doesn’t care. She’s messing up, and it’s dragging us all down.”

You could feel the heat of his words burning through you. The anger swelled in your chest, mixing with the ache in your heart that you’d been trying to ignore. What right did he have to criticize you when he didn’t know what was really going on?

“Maybe if you didn’t make everything sound like the end of the world, I’d be able to focus,” you snapped, voice cold and sharp, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Naoya’s eyes flashed with irritation, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other. His lips curled into a sneer. “Yeah? Well, maybe if you actually gave a damn about this band, you’d stop fucking around. You think your problems are more important than the rest of us?” His words were venomous, laced with anger and something deeper—something raw.

But before either of you could escalate it any further, a voice rang out, clear and authoritative.

“Enough.”

The sharpness of Nanami’s tone cut through the tension in the room, freezing everyone in place. All eyes turned to him as he stepped forward, his expression unamused but not angry—more like someone who was simply done with the drama.

“Naoya, you’ve said your piece,” Nanami continued, his voice calm but heavy with authority. “Now shut it. This isn’t helping anyone. And you,” he continued, not softening his voice, but not harsh either, “stop letting whatever’s going on in your head mess with this. We’re all here for the same thing. If you’re going to be here, then be here. Focus.”

The weight of his words settled on you. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t trying to drag either of you further into this mess. He just spoke like it was a simple matter of fact.

“This isn’t the time for personal drama,” Nanami added, his tone still clear but without a trace of malice. "We’ve got a gig to prepare for. Get it together."

The room fell silent. Naoya, though still visibly irritated, seemed to recognize the finality in Nanami’s words and stopped pushing. You took a breath, your chest feeling a little lighter. Nanami wasn’t sugarcoating anything, but he wasn’t piling on either. He was just being direct, reminding you all of why you were here in the first place.

Yu and Choso exchanged glances, both of them letting out quiet sighs of relief. The tension was still there, but it was more manageable now.

The silence hung in the room for a moment longer before Nanami broke it with a more relaxed, but still authoritative tone. "Alright, take a 15-minute break," he said, his eyes scanning the band. "Everyone take a step back, get your nerves settled. We’ll come back to this in a bit, but it’s clear we need to cool off before we get back into it."

There was a collective sigh of relief. Yu and Choso both took a step back, leaning against the wall and quietly talking amongst themselves. Iori fiddled with her mic stand, clearly giving the rest of you space, while Naoya just stood there, his posture stiff, but he didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t wait for the others to move. With your nerves still frazzled, you found the couch and collapsed onto it, running a hand over your face. You hadn’t even realized how tight your jaw had been until you released the tension with a soft exhale. Your mind was racing with everything that had been said, and despite the anger you felt bubbling beneath the surface, it was all a bit much.

Instinctively, your hand reached for your phone. You unlocked it without really thinking, the screen lighting up in the dim room. There was a missed call from Gojo. You cursed softly under your breath. The last thing you wanted was to talk to him right now—not with everything that had been going on. But you couldn’t deny the pull to hear his voice, even if the sting of seeing him kiss Mina still burned in the back of your mind.

Without thinking much further, you pressed “Call.”

The moment his voice came through the speaker, a part of you immediately softened. “Hey, hey! Finally pickin’ up, huh?” Gojo’s voice was a little more hyper than you’d expected, as if he was bouncing off the walls, and for a second, it caught you off guard.

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten about me or something!” he continued with a playful pout. “You left the party early last night, no goodbye, no nothing. What’s up with that? Did you not like my dancing or was the music not up to your standards?” He chuckled, as if teasing you, completely unaware of the unease swirling inside you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a light, breezy laugh. It’s fine, you told yourself, trying to shake off the knot in your stomach. It doesn’t matter. Just act normal.

“Ah, you know how it is,” you said, your voice coming out a little too bright, a little too cheery. You could practically hear the smile you were trying to fake. “I wasn’t feeling the best, you know how I can be with loud crowds.” You even threw in a little chuckle for good measure, hoping it’d cover up the sting that still lingered in your chest.

But Gojo didn’t pick up on the forced tone, of course. He never did.

“Aww, that’s a shame,” he said, his voice playful. “I thought you were having a good time! You should’ve told me, I would’ve saved you a dance. You know, I’m the best dancer at those things. You really missed out.” There was a cocky grin in his voice, and it made you want to roll your eyes even though you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

You sat back on the couch, trying to focus on Gojo's teasing, but your mind kept drifting back to the images of him with Mina. The playful tone of his voice almost seemed to mock the knot in your stomach, and no matter how hard you tried to push it down, you couldn't shake the way your chest tightened at the thought of them together.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned forward, your phone still pressed to your ear.

"Well, I didn't plan on staying all night, anyways," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "You know me—crowds and I don't always get along."

Gojo’s laughter rang through the phone, a little louder than before. "Next time, I’ll save you a dance," he teased. "You missed out, for real."

You chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, next time,” you repeated, trying to keep the lightness in your tone, even though your mind immediately flashed back to the sight of Gojo dancing so close to Mina. The way he moved with her, effortlessly, the chemistry between them so obvious—it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t ignore.

Stop it, you thought to yourself. It’s none of your business. You’re just being dramatic.

But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, the image lingered. You couldn’t help but picture him spinning Mina around, laughing, his hand low on her back, pulling her in close. There was something so… easy about the way they were together. So natural.

Gojo, however, didn’t seem to notice the shift in your mood. He was too busy playing the charming fool, oblivious as always.

You stood up slowly, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts, and made your way to the door.

As you walked toward the door, the sounds of the studio felt distant, like you were drifting away from them, seeking the brief peace of the hallway.

But then, just before you stepped out completely, you heard Naoya's voice from inside the studio. It was low, almost under his breath, but sharp enough to catch your attention.

"Yeah, maybe if you spent as much time on your notes as you do chatting on the phone, we wouldn’t be here all day," he muttered, the words barely loud enough for you to ignore, but sharp enough to get under your skin.

You froze, your hand on the door handle.

A surge of irritation bubbled up inside you, but you forced it down, knowing it wasn’t worth responding. You didn’t have time to get caught up in one of his petty comments, especially not now.

With a quick glance back at the studio, you let out a quiet breath and stepped outside, closing the door gently behind you. You leaned against the wall, just for a moment of peace—just enough to breathe. Gojo’s voice was a stark contrast to the tense silence of the studio, his words carefree and oblivious to everything that had been bubbling under the surface.

“So, are we still on for later?” he asked, completely unaware of the knot still sitting in your chest. “You know, after practice like usual? I thought we could grab dinner or something—at the convenience store. You in?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The last thing you wanted to do right now was spend time with Gojo, especially after everything that happened last night. But despite the hesitation, the thought of seeing his face, the way his smile always managed to make everything feel lighter, pulled at you.

You could already imagine his playful grin, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, and the stupid, unexplainable flutter in your stomach every time he spoke to you.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice sounding a little too quiet, a little too unsure. But you pushed it down. “I’m in. I’ll see you after practice, okay?”

“Great!” Gojo’s cheer was immediate and overly enthusiastic, like you’d just agreed to go on an all-expenses-paid vacation with him. “I’ll be there in thirty. That should line up with when you’re done, right? I know your schedule better than you do.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping across your lips. “Stalker much, Satoru?”

“Am not! M’just a great best friend.” He replied and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. “Anyways, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be ready to bask in my greatness.”

“Sure, can’t wait,” you said dryly, though his excitement chipped away some of the tension still lingering in your chest.

The call ended with a playful beep, leaving you alone with the soft hum of the hallway. You tucked your phone into your pocket, inhaling deeply before making your way back to the practice room.

You took one last deep breath, steadying yourself as you pushed open the door to the practice room. The chatter and clatter of everyone getting ready for another round immediately filled your ears, the energy in the room buzzing as usual.

Naoya caught sight of you as you stepped in. His eyes narrowed briefly, the usual smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, look who finally decided to rejoin us,” he said with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “I figured you’d still be out there, busy on your phone with your friend, instead of keeping up with your notes like you should.”

You clenched your jaw, the irritation from earlier creeping back. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Iori, who had been nearby, shot a sharp jab to Naoya's side, sending him stumbling a little.

“Knock it off, Naoya,” Iori muttered, her voice low but firm. “Not everyone spends their whole life under a microscope like you.”

Naoya shot her an irritated look, but Iori’s usual no-nonsense attitude had managed to shut him up for the moment.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. As much as you hated to admit it, you appreciated Iori’s timing.

Just then, Nanami glanced up from where he’d been tuning his guitar, his gaze turning toward you with that calm, almost calculating look he always had. “Ready for another round?” he asked, his voice steady and even. His presence had a way of grounding you, always somehow making things feel just a bit more manageable.

You nodded quickly, your breath steadying as you mentally prepared for another round of practice. "Yeah," you said, your voice coming out a bit breathy but confident. You grabbed your guitar, adjusting the strap over your shoulder. The familiar weight of it brought you back to your element, where everything else faded into the background.

Nanami, bass in hand, gave you a small, reassuring nod as his fingers started to slide over the strings. The deep, rich tones of the bass filled the room, grounding everything, and Iori, standing front and center with her mic, was already singing a few warm-up notes under her breath.

Choso, behind the drums, cracked his knuckles before taking his seat. He glanced your way, offering a brief smile before letting the sticks rest lightly in his hands, ready to hit the snare. Yu, standing by his synthesizer, was already tapping at the keys, humming along quietly to himself as he adjusted the sound levels. Naoya, being Naoya, was fiddling with his DJ equipment, testing out the next track or whatever his role was this time.

As always, you were the one to bring the electric spark to the group. You adjusted your fingers over the strings of your guitar, a sense of focus washing over you as the rest of the band began to sync. Maybe it was hearing his voice just now, or maybe just the familiarity of the music, but it felt a bit easier to let go now. The chaos of the day and the undercurrent of frustration faded as your hands moved over the fretboard.

Iori caught your eye for a brief second and, with her usual fiery energy, nodded toward you. She shot a quick wink as she raised her mic. "You ready, guitar hero?" she teased, her voice still smooth as silk, but with that playful edge you were all too familiar with.

You gave her a small grin and strummed a chord. "Yeah, let's do this."

Nanami's bass throbbed, the beat of Choso's drums kicked in, and Yu’s synth melodies began to echo through the room. Naoya hit the button on his DJ equipment, the crisp sound of beats layering over the instruments as the song began to take shape.

With a few final adjustments, you let your fingers fly across the fretboard, the strings vibrating with each strum. Music filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything outside of the band—the tension, the distractions, the stress—vanished. The only thing that mattered now was the sound.

The music built steadily, each layer blending effortlessly with the next. Nanami’s bass pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and sure, while Choso’s drumming added sharp, driving energy. Yu’s synths shimmered in, wrapping around the melody, and Naoya’s samples wove through it all, giving the track its signature edge. Iori’s voice soared above the instrumental, smooth and steady, like it had always been meant to blend with the rest. You leaned into the groove, the guitar feeling like an extension of yourself, as if the music was pulling you forward with every note.

When the last notes faded, silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft hum of the equipment. The band had done well today. And for the first time, the guitar had felt right, the strings humming under your fingertips, as if they were just a little more in tune with you than they had been before.

You didn’t think you’d played it perfectly—there were still moments where you stumbled, where your fingers missed a beat, or the rhythm wasn’t quite right—but it felt like you were getting closer. Maybe it was the focus you had finally found, or maybe it was the call with Gojo that had calmed your nerves, but your playing had finally come with a little more ease. For once, you felt like you could actually breathe while playing, instead of getting caught up in the pressure and self-doubt.

“Well done, everyone,” Iori said, her voice bright as always. She flashed a grin your way, nodding with approval. “That sounded killer.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Yu added, his voice soft but content. He adjusted his headphones, his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the synth keys, a gesture of satisfaction. “We’re getting there.”

Choso, pulling himself out of his seat, stretched his arms above his head before chiming in. “I think this is it. We just need a bit more polish,” he said, his tone casual but upbeat. “Great work today, though.”

Nanami gave you a brief, silent nod as he packed away his bass, his expression calm but pleased. It was rare for him to show much outward emotion, but you could tell he was satisfied.

Iori grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, looking toward the door. “Well, I’m off. Got plans with the crew later,” she said, giving you a wink before heading toward the hall. Yu followed shortly after, adjusting his jacket with a content sigh. “Same here. See you at the next rehearsal,” he said with a smile, his voice still carrying that laid-back ease. Choso stood, picking up his drumsticks and slinging his bag across his shoulder. “Bye,” he said simply, before heading out the door.

Nanami was the last to leave, offering you another silent nod before grabbing his own things and following the others down the hall.

The usual warmth of the band lingered in the room, but the energy shifted the moment they were gone. The chatter of their plans faded as the door clicked shut behind them, and the room felt quieter, more still.

As you reached for your bag, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. You turned, expecting to see Naoya packing up, but instead, he was still standing near his DJ setup, his eyes locked on the equipment in front of him, his posture tense.

Naoya’s posture was rigid as he leaned against the DJ equipment, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usual smug expression had been replaced with something sharper, his eyes narrowed as he took you in. His voice cut through the silence, harder than you expected.

“Honestly, it’s hard to take you seriously when you can’t even pull it together for a gig that actually matters. Are you even all in on this band, or is this just some hobby for you?” Each word came out tight, like it was a challenge you weren’t quite ready for.

Your chest tightened. His words stung more than you'd like to admit, especially after everything. You stood there, waiting for him to keep going, unsure if the barb was meant to break through your tough exterior or if it was just his frustration spilling out.

But then, something in his posture shifted. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh. The harshness melted away as he spoke again, softer this time, his eyes losing that sharpness. "Look... I just wanted this gig to be our big break," he said, his voice quieter, laced with something you hadn't expected: real frustration, but also a hint of desperation. "We’ve been grinding for months to get noticed, trying to make something out of this. You know how important this is to the band, and to me." His gaze softened just a bit, like he was trying to make you understand without saying too much.

He paused, running a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against his forehead in an almost tired gesture. "I just… don’t want to mess this up. Not now. We can’t afford to fall short, especially now that we’ve got a real shot at making it big."

His eyes flickered briefly, and for a second, you saw that familiar wall of stubbornness break down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the person behind it—the one who was just as worried about everything falling apart as you were. He exhaled deeply, then added, quieter than before, "I just want this to work. I want the band to finally get the recognition we deserve. That’s all."

You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, in the slight softness in his gaze—he wasn’t just angry, he was invested. This wasn’t just about you being off tonight. This was about the band, about him putting everything he had into something that had the potential to change everything.

Naoya let the silence settle between you for a moment before he gave a small, almost resigned nod. "Just... don’t make me regret it, alright?" And with that, he turned, not waiting for a response, but his voice had lost its bite. It was still firm, but it carried an unspoken weight—he was hoping you'd understand.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. The sharpness of his earlier jabs still echoed in your chest but hearing the shift in his tone—hearing the real concern beneath his frustration—left you at a loss for words.

You couldn’t deny the pressure. You’d felt it too, the stakes of this gig, how important it was for the band. But his harsh words still stung, especially after everything that had happened. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

After a moment of silence, you let out a slow breath. “I’m not trying to mess this up, Naoya,” you said, your voice steady, though there was a tightness in your chest. "I know how much this means to all of us." You met his gaze, trying to show him you understood, even if you weren’t sure how to fully express it. "I’ll… get it together. You don’t have to worry about that."

You paused, the space between you feeling more fragile now, like the air had thickened with everything unspoken. "I get it, though," you continued, a little softer. "I just... need a minute sometimes." You forced a smile, though it was tight at the edges, trying to lighten the mood a little. "But I’m here. I’m all in, okay?"

Naoya didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell by the slight softening in his eyes that he was hearing you. Maybe he didn’t fully believe it, but the tension had shifted just enough for him to nod, as if satisfied—at least for now.

With a short, almost reluctant glance your way, he walked off, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the silence.

You turned off the lights, the dimming of the room a final sign that practice had officially ended. The buzz of lingering tension in the air still clung to you, but you pushed it down as you headed toward the exit. The familiar echo of your footsteps against the floor was the only sound now, and you let it soothe you, clearing your head as best as you could.

You made your way down the stairs slowly, each step carrying the weight of the conversation you’d just had with Naoya. The band’s words, his frustration, the unspoken understanding—it all swirled in your head, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite sort out. The usual hum of the building felt muted now, the buzzing energy from practice having faded into something heavier, something more uncertain.

As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you spotted him.

Gojo.

He was standing near the door, arms casually crossed, his signature grin stretched wide across his face. The moment his eyes landed on you, the grin only grew brighter, as if your arrival had somehow sparked his whole mood.

"Took you long enough," Gojo called out, his voice teasing but warm. His eyes twinkled with that usual spark of mischief, but there was something else in his gaze, something softer, like he was actually waiting for you—like he’d been expecting this moment.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips despite the weight of everything that had just happened. There was something undeniably comforting about Gojo’s presence, like he was a small oasis of calm in the middle of all the chaos. His grin, that ever-present playfulness, had a way of easing the tightness in your chest, even if just for a moment.

You offered a tired smile, feeling a small amount of the tension lift at the sound of his voice. “Had a lot to wrap up.”

Gojo pushed off the wall and stretched casually as he started to walk off. “Well, now that the hard part’s over, you’re free to hang out with me. Sound good?”

You shrugged, a teasing smile curling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on you. “I guess.”

Gojo stopped in his tracks, feigning offense, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. “I guess?” he repeated, his tone incredulous, “Is that really all I get after I graciously offer to spend my valuable time with you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated pout that tugged at his lips, his usual playful confidence now tinged with mock hurt. His act was so over-the-top that it almost felt like a personal insult—except it was hilarious.

“C’mon, you’re lucky I’m even agreeing to hang out with you,” you shot back with a smirk, trying to match his theatrics as you turned to walk beside him.

Gojo’s pout deepened for a moment, but then his grin returned, wide and knowing, like he had won some small, unspoken victory. He waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine, I guess I’ll take what I can get. But next time, at least give me a ‘thank you’ or something,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you chuckled. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin, stepping up beside you, his playful demeanor as natural as breathing. “But you still love me.”

The words hit you like a sudden wave, and for a moment, everything else around you seemed to fade into the background. You froze, caught off guard. But you still love me. It felt like your heart had skipped a beat, the words coming from him so casual, so light. But in that moment, they resonated deeper than you expected. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing it was just him teasing—but the reality was, it wasn’t entirely untrue. You did love him.

But you couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when he was being his usual playful self. You let out a soft exhale, the moment passing as quickly as it had arrived.

“Love you?” You shot him a look, the teasing smirk back on your face. “Not sure about that. But I guess I’ll let you stick around a little longer.”

Gojo laughed, clearly not picking up on the slight shift in your tone, and nudged your shoulder. “A little longer? I’m wounded,” he said with exaggerated drama. “But I’ll take it. I guess that’s as close to love as I’ll get from you, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, the tightness in your chest still lingering, but you'd buried it under the sarcasm. “That’s about the best you’re going to get.”

You both walked to the convenience store, your footsteps in sync, though your mind felt a little distant. Gojo's usual teasing banter floated around you, but you couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot in your stomach. It wasn’t the first time you’d hung out with him like this, but tonight, everything felt… heavier. You pushed the thought aside.

Inside the store, the familiar warmth and low hum of the lights made you feel grounded. You grabbed a cup of instant noodles and a couple of snacks, trying to focus on something as simple as preparing food. The act of cooking your noodles in the microwave seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

Gojo, naturally, was in a good mood as he picked out a drink and snacks, then casually plopped down next to you. As you set your bowl of noodles in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulder brushed against yours as he sat—just a little too close for comfort, but you didn’t pull away.

Gojo took a sip of his drink, leaning back casually against his seat, his usual carefree demeanor in full force. The silence between you two was comfortable, yet your mind was all over the place. You were trying to keep your thoughts in check when, out of nowhere, Gojo dropped his usual carefree remark.

“By the way,” he began, his voice casual, almost as if he was talking about the weather, “I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

And for a split second, the world seemed to freeze.

Everything—the soft hum of the convenience store, the clink of distant cans, the faint rustle of plastic bags—vanished into the background. Your breath hitched in your chest, and the next few seconds dragged by like slow-motion, the words echoing in your mind.

Girlfriend?

Your fingers gripped your bowl of noodles so tightly that it almost slipped from your hands. Your vision blurred slightly, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t remember how to breathe. A heavy weight settled in your chest, like you were sinking into an endless pit.

The memories of last night—the soft hum of the afterparty, the way he’d danced with Mina, their kiss, the way she smiled up at him—came crashing down all at once. It was like someone had grabbed your ribcage and squeezed. You blinked, feeling a tightness in your throat, a flood of heat behind your eyes.

How did things advance so quickly in the span of a night?

You’d seen them together, you knew it was coming, and yet—this? Why Mina?

Why her?

Out of all the people, why had it been her? You’d watched the way he looked at her, the laughter that came so naturally as they danced, the way she’d fit so effortlessly into his orbit. The kiss had been a final confirmation, one you had tried to pretend wasn’t real, but now, hearing the word "girlfriend" spill from his lips—it felt like a punch to the gut.

You thought you understood him, at least enough to know that he wasn’t one for commitment. He’d told you that himself. You’d heard it countless times: "I don’t do relationships. Too much hassle, too much commitment."

But here he was, talking about Mina like it was nothing. Like the man who had sworn off ties, who had never seemed interested in anything beyond his casual flings, had suddenly—and without warning—shifted completely.

It didn’t make sense. You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting behind your eyes. How did this happen? How had his stance on relationships changed so fast, so suddenly, without any hint of it? And why now? Why Mina, of all people?

You felt your grip on the bowl tighten, your knuckles turning white. The ache in your chest wasn’t just about him moving on—it was about the sudden shift, the betrayal of all those times you’d tried to convince yourself he’d eventually come around, that maybe he’d see you as more than just the friend who always tagged along.

And now this. Her. A girl who seemed to get him, who was everything you weren’t: confident, carefree, like she belonged beside him.

For a fleeting moment, you felt that familiar, hollow pang again. What did she have that you didn’t?

The thought lingered, gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to indulge in that kind of self-pity—not right now. Not in front of him.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. Don’t let him see it. Don’t let him see how badly this hurts.

You swallowed, forcing your chopsticks to meet your noodles again, but it felt like your throat had gone dry. "Mina, right?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you instantly regretted it. Your voice was too quiet, too unsure, but you couldn’t take it back.

Gojo didn’t seem to notice the change in your demeanor. He flashed you that usual grin, the one that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. "Yeah, that’s her," he said, a little more animated now, clearly pleased with himself. "She’s awesome. Thought you’d like her."

You didn’t expect the surge of pain that hit you at his words, but it was sharp and unmistakable. You kept your eyes trained on the noodles in your bowl, afraid they’d betray you if you looked up.

Gojo continued, clearly not picking up on the shift in your mood. “Honestly, she’s just... everything I never knew I needed. She’s got this energy, you know? It’s like—everything about her just makes sense. The way she talks, the way she laughs, the way she looks at me, it’s like she sees me—really sees me, you know?”

You could feel your heart tighten at his words, the little cracks in your chest deepening with every praise. His voice was full of that certain warmth, the one that made everything he said feel like it was wrapped in a soft, golden light. It was a tone you had never heard directed at you.

You swallowed thickly, your stomach twisting with each word that slipped past Gojo’s lips. He didn’t notice, of course—he was too wrapped up in whatever glow Mina had cast over him.

"It’s like she really gets me, y'know?" Gojo continued, the edge of his smile softening into something more thoughtful. "Like, every little thing I do, she just understands and… and we’re on the same wavelength. No effort. No trying. It’s just… natural."

You blinked, and for a moment, everything went blurry. Your hands tightened around your chopsticks, but you barely noticed.

I get you too, the thought screamed in your head, but you swallowed your voice down your throat, forcing out a smile instead. Why doesn’t that matter?

The words you didn’t say swirled around you, a dull ache in your chest that refused to quiet down. You’d spent years trying to understand him, trying to be the person who got him—the way he looked at the world, the jokes he made, the way his mind worked at a million miles a minute. You’d always been there, hadn’t you?

And yet here he was, saying Mina was the one who got him.

In that split second, the words stung with a cold finality. It wasn’t about the girl. It wasn’t about Mina. It was about how effortlessly Gojo had found someone else to fill that space in his heart that, for so long, you thought maybe—just maybe—was reserved for you.

He continued, unaware of the quiet storm in your mind. "She just gets me, and I don’t have to explain anything. It's so easy with her. I can't even remember the last time something felt so right, you know?"

Your mind went blank for a moment, and you couldn’t stop the thought that broke through: But I get you. I’ve always gotten you.

You blinked and cleared your throat. The sting was still there, but you couldn’t show it. You forced a smile, even though it felt like your lips were glued together. "I’m glad she makes you happy," you said, the words coming out smoother than you felt. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more.

Gojo’s grin widened. "Yeah, she’s great," he said, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the quiet battle going on inside you. “I’m really lucky.”

As he went on, your thoughts circled back to that question—Why her? Why had he found someone who fit so effortlessly into the life you’d imagined you two would share? And why wasn’t it you who had earned the privilege of being the one to "get him"?

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the two of you faded into the background. The convenience store, the noise, the bustling sounds—everything felt far away.

It was just you, Gojo, and the words he couldn’t take back.

You continued to stare at him, your gaze flickering over every little thing—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, the almost reverent tone in his voice, the soft, almost dreamy expression that crept onto his face. He wasn’t just saying it; he was feeling it, every word a reflection of something deep inside him, something he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

His smile, usually so playful and confident, was softer now. His eyes were full of that familiar warmth, but there was something new—something brighter. It was a look you had never seen before.

Your breath hitched again, and for a brief moment, it felt like your chest was tightening around you, the world shrinking as his words continued to wash over you, louder and louder.

He was in love.

The thought hit you with a quiet finality, and you swallowed hard, feeling something inside you crack just a little more. You couldn’t look away, even though you wanted to. Even though everything inside you was screaming to pull back, to stop pretending, to let it all show.

But you couldn’t.

Not now.

You could feel the ache swelling in your chest again, but this time, you forced yourself to hold it down, to swallow it back where it belonged. You have to be happy for him. He deserves this. The words rang in your mind, a mantra you tried to hold on to. You had never been selfish with him, not once. And no matter how badly it hurt, no matter how much you wished it was you sitting there beside him, you couldn’t let him see it.

You have to support him.

You blinked, trying to clear the sudden haze in your vision, and when you looked at him again, you made sure your smile was there—genuine, warm, and kind, just like always. The lump in your throat made it difficult, but you forced it down.

"She sounds amazing," you said, your voice steady, even though your heart felt like it was breaking with every word. "I’m really happy for you, Satoru."

He didn’t seem to notice the subtle strain in your tone. His eyes brightened further, the love for Mina practically glowing in them. “Yeah, she really is. I really think you two will get along well once you meet. She’s easy to talk to, you’ll see.”

You nodded, forcing a bit more enthusiasm into your voice. "I’m sure we will."

But as he continued to talk about her, the way his voice softened with affection every time her name left his lips, something inside you cracked again. You tried to push it down. You had to. You had to be supportive, even if it felt like the air was being slowly squeezed out of your lungs.

Because he was happy. That was all that mattered.

And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t be the one to hold him back from that. PART 3

[hisui-dreamer]

😳😳 ace trappola and hibiscuses 🌺 for the bloom event……?? smth smth romance TEHEPERO 🫶 GL W YOUR ASSIGNMENTS RINNA!! EXCITED TO SEE WHATCHU GOT IN STORE

the heart's belonging

Pairing: Ace Trappola x gn!reader

Synopsis: in which ace finds you far too beautiful and can't help getting jealous when others realise that too

Tags: fluff, ace is an absolute teenager, jealously, he's also an absolute simp, basically a beach episode, slight pining

Word count: 680

Notes: thank you for requesting ashi!! you're the first too haha ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ this interpretation comes from malaysia, and i was so inspired by it the fic basically wrote itself haha! i hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: hibiscus

It is said that wearing a hibiscus flower carries a special significance: placing the flower behind the left ear signifies "I yearn to encounter love," while placing the flower on the right ear indicates "My heart already belongs to someone".

Ace believes it's the teenage boy's dream to see their crush in a swimsuit.

What he didn't expect, though, was the surge of protectiveness that washed over him and how much he wanted to hide you from everyone.

He had only been away for less than ten minutes, offering to grab you a bottle of water when you mentioned feeling thirsty. But in that short span, a group of guys had already approached you. The sight of a few guys talking to you makes his blood boil. He quickens his pace, feeling a pang of jealousy rising within him.

"Hey, is everything okay here?" he interjects, his voice steady but his jaw clenched with an underlying tension.

The guys glance at him, sensing his protective stance. "Yeah, just chatting," one of them replies, though they seem to pick up on Ace's annoyance.

Without missing a beat, Ace steps closer, subtly positioning himself between you and the group. "Well, it looks like the conversation's over," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The guys exchange awkward glances before nodding and backing away, clearly getting the message.

With the guys finally dispersing, Ace releases a pent-up sigh, a muttered "Tch..." slipping from his lips as he battles to quell his simmering irritation. Despite the knot tightening in his chest, he extends the bottle of water towards you, a forced smile masking his inner turmoil.

"Thanks," you respond, your eyes fixed on him with a curious intensity as you accept the drink and take a sip.

His gaze remains fixed on you, his mind swirling with thoughts of how alluring you look, now amplified by that damn red flower you plucked earlier, currently tucked behind your right ear. He finds himself entranced by the way the flower accentuates the curve of your cheek, how its vibrant petals seem to echo the flush of your lips.

But he knows that it's not the flower itself that makes you beautiful—it's you, in all your radiant splendour, that leaves him completely spellbound.

"...Aren't you bothered at all by those guys?" he asks quietly, a hint of jealousy evident in his voice.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "No," you say thoughtfully. "They're harmless,"

"Harmless?" Ace raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Why?"

"They're not my type."

He pauses, processing your words before curiosity gets the better of him. "... What's your type then?"

You smile knowingly, your fingertips tracing the delicate petals of the hibiscus flower nestled behind your right ear as you tuck your hair in place. With a deliberate slowness, you pivot to face Ace, your eyes locking with his in a gaze so profound that it feels as though it's delving into the depths of his soul.

He finds himself completely mesmerised as the sunlight caresses your skin, casting a radiant glow that seems to highlight your every feature; the gentle breeze tousles your hair, creating a halo of golden strands that frames your face in an ethereal light; the vibrant hibiscus illuminating the clarity of your eyes under the golden rays of sunshine.

He drinks in every detail, every movement, etches itself into his memory, leaving an indelible imprint that he knows he will carry with him long after this day is over.

Your finger playfully jabs his chest, breaking him out of his trance.

"Bleh~" you taunt, your tongue poking out mischievously. "I'm not telling you!" With a teasing grin, you swiftly dart away, leaving him flustered by your evasion.

Before he can gather his thoughts, you're already in motion, leaving him trailing behind. "Wha- Hey, wait up!" he calls after you, his feet stumbling as he hastens to catch up, determined not to let you slip away.

A whirlwind of theories are swirling in his mind, but he is intent on hearing what your type is straight from your own lips.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 11/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, some slightly spicy scenes

Word Count: 6296

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you hung up the phone, the ache of missing him was still there, but it was overshadowed by the hope and reassurance his words had brought. You knew that the next two months would be a test, but one you were ready to face together.

After spending over three hours cleaning your apartment to distract yourself, you finally collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted. Sleep claimed you within seconds, and you missed the message Jensen sent just minutes after you drifted off.

Meanwhile, Jensen arrived at his house in Connecticut. Stepping out of the cab, he took a deep breath, feeling a flood of emotions. The surroundings brought anxiety as he mentally prepared for what awaited him inside.

Entering through the front door, he was greeted by the lively sounds of his children still awake. JJ spotted him first and ran towards him with a wide grin, exclaiming, “Daddy!”. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her excitement palpable.

Jensen’s heart warmed as he bent down to scoop her up into a warm hug. “Hey, sweetheart”, he said softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you”.

Arrow and Zeppelin hung back a bit, their expressions more reserved. They had always been closer to their mother, especially since they noticed the special bond between Jensen and JJ. Sensing their hesitation, Jensen extended his hand towards them with a welcoming smile.

“Come here, you two”, he encouraged gently. “I missed you guys too”.

After a moment’s hesitation, Arrow cautiously stepped forward, followed by Zeppelin. They approached him tentatively, and Jensen knelt down to their level, JJ still holding onto his side. He tousled Zeppelin’s hair affectionately and gave Arrow a reassuring pat on the back.

“How have my little ones been?”, he asked warmly, trying to bridge the gap between them.

“We’ve been good”, Zeppelin replied softly, looking up at his father with a small smile. “Mom made us pancakes for dinner”.

Jensen chuckled softly. “Pancakes for dinner? That sounds delicious”.

Just then, Danneel stepped into the room, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. Jensen’s jaw clenched slightly as he braced himself for her reaction. She had just hung up a call, and her frustration was evident.

“You should have called me”, Danneel said tersely, her voice tinged with irritation. “Letting me know you’re on your way from the airport”.

Jensen sighed inwardly, knowing this was a conversation they often circled back to. “I’m sorry”, he replied evenly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “It was a long flight, and I wanted to get home to see the kids”.

Danneel’s expression softened slightly, but her frustration lingered. “It’s not just about that, Jensen”, she said, her voice lowering to a more subdued tone. “Communication is important. We talked about this”.

Jensen felt the weight of Danneel’s words, knowing all too well the underlying tensions in their strained marriage. They had grown apart over the years, the love they once shared now replaced by a mutual understanding of their roles. Danneel, focused on maintaining their image and the financial stability Jensen provided, often ignored the emotional disconnect between them.

“Yeah, communication”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know”.

Danneel’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Jensen’s jaw clenched again, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes. They had danced around this conversation too many times, neither willing to confront the reality of their failing marriage head-on. He knew Danneel’s priorities lay elsewhere, and their interactions had become strained, devoid of the warmth and affection they once shared.

“We have responsibilities”, she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the tension between them. “And I intend to uphold mine”.

Jensen sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know”, he murmured.

Without another word, he pulled off his jacket and hung it up, then grabbed his bag, turning towards the stairs. Danneel watched him with narrowed eyes, her arms still crossed.

“Where are you going?”, she asked sharply.

“Unpacking”, Jensen grumbled, not bothering to look back at her as he started up the stairs.

But Danneel wasn’t having it. She followed him, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house. “We’re not done talking”, she insisted, her voice filled with frustration.

“There’s nothing more to say, Danneel”, he replied, trying to keep his tone even. “We’ve had this conversation too many times”.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Jensen turned towards his room. Even in the new house, he had insisted on having his own space, much like the setup they had in Austin. The strain in their marriage had grown too great for him to share a bed with her anymore.

Danneel followed him into his room, her frustration clear in her eyes. “You can’t just walk away every time things get tough”, she said, her voice trembling slightly with anger. “We need to deal with this”.

Jensen dropped his bag onto the floor and turned to face her, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deal with what, Danneel? The fact that we’re living a lie? That we’re pretending everything’s fine for the sake of appearances?”.

Danneel’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with defiance. “We have responsibilities, Jensen. To our family, to our image. You can’t just run away from that”.

“I’m not running away”, Jensen shot back, his voice rising. “I’m facing reality. Our marriage is over, Danneel. It’s been over for a long time. We’re just going through the motions”.

Her silence was heavy, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air.

“You’re right”, she finally said, her voice low and bitter. “But that doesn’t mean we can just give up. We have to keep up appearances, for the kids, for everything we’ve built”.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, feeling the exhaustion of their ongoing battle. “I’m tired, Danneel. Tired of pretending. Tired of living a lie”.

“And what do you propose?”, she asked, her tone icy. “Just throw it all away?”.

“I don’t know”, Jensen admitted, his voice softening. “But we can’t keep going on like this”.

Jensen began to sort his clothes out of his bag, throwing his phone onto the bed and starting to undress, not bothering that Danneel was still in the room. He was too exhausted to care about propriety at this point.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with anger as she watched him. “I told you before, Jensen”, she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “There’s no way you’re going to make me the poor, stupid ex-wife who was left”.

Jensen paused, his shirt halfway off, and looked at her, frustration evident in his eyes. “This isn’t about making you look bad, Danneel. It’s about being honest about what we’ve become”.

As he pulled off his shirt completely, Danneel’s gaze zeroed in on his back. The faint, red marks—cuts that had to heal—caught her attention.

“What the hell are those?”, she demanded, her voice trembling with fury.

Jensen turned to follow her gaze, his confusion quickly turning to realization as he remembered the intensity of his time with you. “It’s nothing”, he said defensively, quickly turning back to his bag.

“Nothing?”, Danneel scoffed, taking a step closer. “Those look like scratch marks, Jensen. Who did that?”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, and he threw the shirt he was holding onto the bed. “It’s none of your business”, he said coldly.

Danneel’s face hardened, her anger boiling over. “It is my business when you come home with marks like that“.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “You seem to forget that you were the one who had an affair first”, he reminded her, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “Years ago. And we agreed not to talk about who we’re seeing. We both know this marriage has been over for a long time”.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “That was different, Jensen. You didn’t seem to care then, and you certainly never showed up with marks like that”.

“Different?”, Jensen scoffed. “We’ve both had our affairs, Danneel. You set the precedent, and I followed. But I never flaunted it because I respected our arrangement. Until now, I haven’t seen anyone for months”.

Danneel’s expression shifted from anger to something resembling hurt. “You didn’t have to make it so obvious”, she said quietly.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to make anything obvious. It just happened”.

“Who is she?”, Danneel asked, her voice softer but still edged with tension.

Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both know where we stand”.

Danneel’s expression hardened again, a sharp edge returning to her voice. “Your new bitch better keep her mouth shut for her own sake”, she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

Jensen felt his own temper flare. “Don’t you dare call her that”, he said through gritted teeth. “She’s got nothing to do with this mess we’ve made. This is between you and me”.

“Well, then she better stay out of it”, Danneel retorted. “I won’t have my life turned upside down because of your midlife crisis”.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “This isn’t a midlife crisis, Danneel. This is me finally admitting that I can’t live like this anymore. We can’t keep pretending”.

Danneel crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. “Don´t expect me to roll over and play nice just because you decided to grow a conscience”.

Jensen waved her off, looking more than annoyed. He turned his back to her and grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag, dressing in something more comfortable. His movements were tense, filled with frustration.

“I’m so done with all this shit”, he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but dripping with anger. “I can’t even stand to see your fucking face anymore”.

Danneel’s eyes narrowed, her anger flaring again at his words. “Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual”, she snapped back.

Jensen’s eyes were still burning with frustration as he pulled on his fresh shirt. He didn’t even bother to look at Danneel, who was standing there with her arms crossed, her own face flushed with anger. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Just then, the door creaked open, and JJ stepped inside, holding up a board game. Her bright eyes were filled with hope and excitement, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her parents. “Can we play this game?”, she asked, her voice innocent and eager.

Jensen and Danneel both turned to look at their daughter, their anger momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her. Jensen felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. “Sure", he said, his voice gentler. “Which game did you pick?”.

JJ’s face lit up with a huge smile as she held up the game box. “Monopoly!”, she announced, her enthusiasm contagious.

Danneel took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something resembling calm. “Of course, JJ”, she said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go set it up in the living room”.

JJ beamed, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension between her parents. “Yay! It’s going to be so much fun!”.

As they followed JJ out of the room, Jensen and Danneel exchanged a brief, weary glance. The facade of normalcy had to be maintained, at least for their daughter’s sake. They knew they had to put their differences aside, if only for a little while, to give her the sense of family she deserved.

As JJ eagerly set up the board game with Arrow and Zeppelin, Jensen slipped into the kitchen. He reached for a bottle of whiskey, knowing it was the only way he’d get through the long game ahead. Pouring a generous amount into a mug, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the evening.

With his mug in hand, Jensen settled at the table, watching his kids as they prepared for the game. He pulled out his phone, the urge to connect with you too strong to resist. Quickly, he typed out a message: “I wish I was still lying with you in your bed. Missing you”.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already asleep, the exhaustion of the day having taken its toll. Sighing deeply, Jensen put his phone away and focused on the scene before him. JJ was distributing the Monopoly money with great enthusiasm, her excitement infectious despite the underlying tension.

Danneel, never one to miss a chance to uphold their facade, snapped a picture of the five of them around the game. “Everyone smile”, she instructed, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a cheerful tone.

Jensen forced a smile, his jaw clenched as he looked at the camera. “Fucking smile, Jensen!”, Danneel hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

He plastered on a wider grin, feeling the bitterness rise within him. The camera clicked, capturing the image of a seemingly happy family for Danneel’s Instagram followers. The picture was a stark contrast to the reality of their strained relationship.

With the obligatory photo out of the way, JJ handed out the last of the Monopoly money and took her place at the table. “Okay, who’s going to be the banker?”, she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ll do it”, Jensen volunteered, wanting to distract himself from his thoughts. “Nothing different from my real role here”, he muttered under his breath and Danneel shot him a sharp glance.

“Just play the game, Jensen”, she said tersely, her voice barely concealing her irritation.

Jensen forced another smile, taking the stack of Monopoly money and organizing it. “Alright, let’s get this started”, he said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice for the kids’ sake.

The game began, and for a while, the room was filled with the sounds of dice rolling, money changing hands, and playful banter between the children. JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were completely engrossed in the game, their laughter and excitement a temporary balm for the underlying tension between their parents.

Jensen took a sip from his whiskey mug, feeling the warmth spread through him. It helped to dull the edges of his frustration, allowing him to focus more on the game and less on the strained dynamics with Danneel.

As the game progressed, JJ landed on one of Jensen’s properties and groaned dramatically. “Dad, you’re making me go bankrupt!”, she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock horror.

Jensen chuckled, enjoying the moment of levity. “That’s the game, sweetheart. You’ll get me back next time”.

Danneel, despite the tension, managed to keep up her role, interacting with the kids and playing her part in the game. For a brief moment, the room felt almost normal, like the family they used to be.

Hours passed, and the game finally drew to a close. Arrow and Zeppelin yawned, their energy waning as the evening wore on.

“Alright, time for bed”, Jensen said gently, gathering up the game pieces. “We’ll play again another time”.

The kids groaned in unison but complied, shuffling off to their rooms with tired smiles. Jensen and Danneel tidied up the living room in silence, the earlier tensions resurfacing as the facade of family game night faded away.

Once the kids were settled, Jensen returned to his room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. He checked his phone again, seeing no response from you. With a heavy heart, he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Jensen lay awake for about an hour, thoughts of you swirling incessantly through his mind. The weight of recent events and his complicated emotions had kept sleep at bay, leaving him restless and contemplative. As he stared at the ceiling in the dimly lit room, the soft creak of the door pulled him from his reverie.

JJ stood hesitantly in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering in from the hallway. It had been a while since she struggled to sleep, and tonight, her restlessness had brought her to her father’s door. She peered into the room, uncertainty etched on her face, before softly asking, “Daddy? Are you awake?”.

Startled from his thoughts, Jensen turned to see JJ standing there, her presence both comforting and unexpected. Despite his own inner turmoil, he managed a warm smile for her. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m awake”, he replied softly, his voice carrying reassurance.

JJ hesitated for a moment longer, then shuffled closer to the bed, her small figure moving with caution. Jensen could see the unease in her eyes, and he silently beckoned her to come closer. “Come here”, he said gently, patting the space beside him on the bed.

JJ tiptoed across the room and climbed onto the bed, curling up next to her father. She nestled into his side, seeking comfort in his familiar presence. Jensen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they lay together in the quiet of the room.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

JJ sighed. “I don’t know, Daddy”, she murmured. “Sometimes I get scared at night, and I can’t sleep”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, offering her silent support. "It's okay to feel scared", he reassured her. "Everyone feels that way sometimes".

"I know", JJ whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it helps when you're here".

Jensen pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling a swell of love and protectiveness for his daughter. "I'll always be here for you, JJ", he promised quietly. "You can come to me anytime you need".

JJ nestled closer, drawing comfort from his steady presence. For a few moments, they lay in silence, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing creating a calming rhythm. The stillness of the room wrapped around them like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension that had gripped Jensen’s mind.

“What do you think about when you can’t sleep, Daddy?”, JJ asked after a while, her curiosity breaking the silence.

Jensen smiled softly, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. “I think about a lot of things, sweetheart. About work, about making sure everyone is happy and safe”.

JJ looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do you think about happy things too?”.

Jensen nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I do. I think about the times we spend together, like playing games or going on trips. I think about the people who make me happy”.

JJ’s face brightened a little. “Like Mommy?”.

Jensen hesitated, his smile faltering briefly. “Yes, like Mommy”, he said, his voice steady. “And also my friends, and you, of course”.

JJ seemed satisfied with his answer and settled back down against him. “I think about you too, Daddy. When I get scared, I think about you and it makes me feel better”.

Jensen felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his daughter’s words. “I’m glad, JJ. That’s what dads are for, to help make the scary things less scary”.

They lay together in the quiet room, Jensen’s mind gradually calming as he focused on the simple, pure connection with his daughter.

As JJ’s breathing evened out, indicating she had finally drifted off to sleep, Jensen closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

The next morning, when Jensen woke up, he immediately noticed that JJ was already gone. The space beside him was empty and the room was filled with the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand, feeling the familiar weight of sleep still clinging to him.

As he blinked at the screen, a message notification caught his eye. It was from you. His heart quickened as he read your words: “I definitely didn’t sleep as well as I did in your arms yesterday”.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, warmth spreading through him at the thought of you.

He quickly typed a response: ”Same here. Any plans for today?“.

Setting his phone aside, Jensen got out of bed and dressed for the day, feeling a bit more positive after reading your message. As he made his way downstairs, he was greeted by the sounds of his children laughing and playing.

In the kitchen, JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were already eating breakfast. Danneel was there too, her expression neutral but calm. She glanced up as Jensen entered, a brief nod serving as their morning greeting.

“Morning, Daddy!”, JJ called out, her face lighting up with a smile. “We’re having pancakes!”.

Jensen smiled back, the sight of his children bringing a sense of normalcy. “Morning, everyone. Pancakes sound great”.

As Jensen ate breakfast with his family, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He discreetly checked it under the table and saw your reply: “Just need to get groceries and probably hitting the gym”.

He bit his tongue, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he typed out his response: “How much time do you actually spend at the gym? Because your ass says a lot”.

Jensen hit send, chuckling quietly to himself. He looked up to see JJ watching him with a curious expression. “What’s so funny, Daddy?”, she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

“Just a silly joke”, Jensen replied, ruffling her hair.

JJ giggled, accepting his explanation as she turned back to her pancakes. Jensen felt another buzz from his phone and glanced down to see your response: “Glad you noticed! I spend what feels like half my life there, lol”.

“Trust me, it’s hard not to notice”, he typed back. After a brief hesitation, he added, “Can’t wait to see that ass in person again“.

As you read Jensen’s message, a playful smirk formed on your lips. His boldness was both thrilling and enticing, bringing back vivid memories of the passionate night you shared together.

“Careful now, Mr. Ackles”, you replied.

Jensen’s phone buzzed with your message, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He quickly typed back, “We both know you don’t want me to be careful“.

Your heart skipped a beat at his boldness, your cheeks flushing even more. “Is that so? What makes you so sure?”, you replied, playing along.

Jensen’s grin widened as he recalled the night you shared. “Oh, I seem to remember you begging me to go harder… several times”, he typed.

You bit your lip, remembering just how intense and incredible that night had been. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up”, you teased back.

Jensen’s phone buzzed again, and he couldn’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips. He quickly typed back, “Oh, I just know you’re still sore because of me. Am I right?”.

Your breath hitched as you read his message. He was right; you were still feeling the delicious ache from his attentions. But you couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Maybe just a little”, you replied coyly.

“Just a little? I must be losing my touch”, he typed, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Oh, you haven’t lost a thing. Trust me. My body is still recovering”, you responded.

Jensen felt a surge of satisfaction at your words. “Good to know. Next time, I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for days”.

You blushed deeply, the anticipation building within you. “Promises, promises”, you replied. “You better be ready to back them up”.

“Oh, I am”, Jensen texted confidently. “And I can’t wait to remind you just how good I am at keeping my promises”.

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Then hurry up and clear your schedule, Mr. Ackles. I’m counting the days”.

Jensen smiled, feeling a renewed sense of excitement and determination. “I’m on it. See you soon”.

Jensen set his phone aside, still smiling from the playful exchange with you. As he turned his attention back to his surroundings, he noticed Danneel eying him from the side. Her expression was unreadable, but she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on her own tasks.

The rest of the day, Jensen spent for himself, finding a quiet corner in the house to dive into his work. He picked up the script for “The Boys” Season 5, immersing himself in the world of his character. It was a welcome distraction, giving him something productive to focus on amid the emotional turbulence of his personal life.

Occasionally, his thoughts drifted back to you. He found himself reading the same line of the script more than once.

As evening came, the house grew quiet. The kids were asleep, and Danneel had gone out with friends. Jensen found himself with some rare, uninterrupted time. He decided to take advantage of it. Putting in his AirPods, he settled into a comfortable chair and opened his phone, navigating to your contact. He hesitated for a moment, hoping you’d still be awake, before initiating a video call.

The call connected, and after a few rings, your face appeared on the screen, framed by the soft light of your room. The sight of you brought an immediate smile to Jensen’s face.

“Hey”, you greeted warmly, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “I wasn’t expecting a call this late”.

“Hey”, Jensen replied, his voice filled with genuine affection. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long day”.

You settled back, getting more comfortable as you adjusted your phone. “I’m glad you called. How are things on your end?”.

Jensen sighed, the weight of the day briefly evident in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Before he could answer, you spoke softly, your concern evident. “Is it about your wife?”.

Jensen looked at you, appreciating your understanding and concern. “Yeah”, he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the twinge of jealousy that bubbled up despite Jensen’s reassurances about his marriage. He had been clear that there was no love between him and his wife, and they maintained a facade for appearances. Yet, seeing him burdened by the complexities of his family life stirred conflicting emotions within you.

“I understand”, you replied softly, your voice tinged with empathy. “It must be really hard”.

Jensen nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude for your understanding. “It is”, he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. “I wish it were different”.

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of emotions as you looked at Jensen. “I just want to cheer you up”, you said gently. “What can I do?”.

Jensen’s eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just talking to you helps”, he admitted. “But honestly, hearing about your day, your life—it distracts me from all this”.

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Well, let’s see”, you began, settling into a more comfortable position. “Today was pretty uneventful, but I did have a funny moment at the gym”.

Jensen leaned in, his interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell”.

You chuckled softly, recalling the moment. “So, I was in the shower after my workout, just minding my own business”, you began, “and I slipped on some soap. Now I’ve got this huge bruise down my rib”.

Jensen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with concern. “That’s not fucking funny”, he said, shaking his head. “Are you okay? That sounds really painful”.

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “Yeah, it was more embarrassing than anything. I mean, it hurts, but I’ll be fine. Just a reminder to be more careful”.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you want to see it?”, you asked playfully, teasing a bit to shift his concern to something lighter.

Jensen’s eyes widened further, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re offering to show me your bruise? How could I say no?”, he replied, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity.

You adjusted your camera and lifted your shirt slightly to reveal the dark bruise on your rib. “See? Not so bad”, you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though the bruise looked quite painful.

Jensen winced in sympathy. “Ouch. That does look pretty bad”, he said softly. “I hope it heals quickly”.

“It will”, you assured him. “I’ve had worse". But the bruise really was huge, covering nearly your whole ribcage.

“How can someone fall this bad in a stupid shower and end up with such a huge bruise?”, he asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“That’s me for you”, you said with a light-hearted shrug. “I manage to turn the most mundane activities into a catastrophe”.

Jensen smiled, though the worry in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “You’ve got to be more careful. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

You nodded, appreciating his concern. “I will“.

Jensen’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about you lift your shirt a bit more?”, he asked teasingly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his cheeky request. “Oh, really? Is that how it’s going to be?”, you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little bit”, he said, his tone light and mischievous. “I need to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else”.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but smile at his playful demeanor. “Alright, but just a bit”, you said.

As you lifted your shirt a little higher, revealing the swell of your breasts, Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight teased him even more. His breath hitched slightly, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

“Maybe a bit more”, he mumbled huskily, his voice low and filled with longing.

You could see the effect you had on him, and it sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, considering his request. “Just a little more?”, you teased, enjoying the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Please”, he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, filled with anticipation.

Slowly, you inched your shirt up a little higher, stopping just before your nipples could show. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

“A little more”, he urged softly, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel your pulse quicken at his request, the playful teasing giving way to a more intimate desire. “Just a bit?”, you asked, your own voice barely above a whisper, wanting to prolong the moment.

“Just a bit”, he confirmed, his eyes dark with longing.

With a deep breath, you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the peaks of your nipples, feeling the thrill of baring yourself to him, even through the screen.

Jensen’s reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, and he let out a low groan of appreciation as his gaze drank in the sight of you. He could feel his dick stiffen in his sweatpants just from the sight of your skin. The intensity of his desire for you was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me”, he murmured, his voice rough with need, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin.

You felt a thrill at his words, the power you had over him making you feel bold and desired. “Maybe I do”, you teased, your voice soft and sultry.

Jensen shifted slightly, his arousal evident as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. “Fuck, you’re perfect”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"I think you need to touch yourself for me”, he added, his tone husky.

Your breath hitched at his words. Slowly, you let your fingers glide up your torso, feeling the heat of your skin as you moved closer to your breasts. Your eyes remained locked on Jensen’s, his gaze dark and hungry.

Gently, you teased the peaks of your nipples, feeling the sensation ripple through you. “Like this?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jensen groaned, his eyes never leaving your movements. “Yes, just like that”, he murmured.

As he shifted slightly to adjust his erection, his eyes dark and filled with desire, you slowly pulled your shirt back down, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

“Fucking tease”, Jensen muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

You chuckled softly, enjoying the power you had over him. “Maybe I am”, you replied, your voice playful. “But I think you like it”.

Jensen’s smile broadened, and he shook his head slightly. “You have no idea”, he said, his voice low and filled with longing. “But now you’ve left me wanting more”.

Jensen continued to stroke his dick, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, a mixture of power and desire coursing through you.

“You think it’s funny to leave me like this?”, Jensen asked, his voice rough with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

You grinned, enjoying the playful tension between you. “Maybe”, you teased, your voice soft and seductive. “But I think you can handle it”.

“Oh, I can handle it”, he said, his eyes dark with promise. “But you’re going to pay for this next time we’re together”.

You yawned tiredly, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. Despite the playful tension, you couldn’t suppress another yawn. “I’m sure counting on it”, you replied, your voice soft and teasing but laced with fatigue.

Jensen chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “You look like you need to get some sleep”, he said, his tone gentle. “We can continue this another time”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah, I think I do”, you admitted. “But I’ll be dreaming about what you’re going to do to me”.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and desire. “Sweet dreams, then”, he murmured.

You ended the call, feeling a sense of contentment despite the longing. Taking a deep breath, you turned around in bed, your head sinking into the pillow that still carried Jensen’s faint scent.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he sat back in his chair, the air thick with desire and frustration. His erection throbbed beneath his sweatpants, a reminder of the arousal you had stoked in him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

Sleep seemed out of the question now, his mind consumed with images of you, your voice still echoing in his ears. He contemplated calling you back, but he knew it was late and you needed rest. Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes and letting his hand slip beneath his waistband once more, giving in to the overwhelming need to relieve the tension you had ignited in him.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination take over. He pictured you lying in bed, your fingers teasing your nipples as you had done during the call, your soft moans filling his ears. The memory of your playful teasing and the sight of your body fueled his arousal, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge.

His hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He imagined the feel of your skin against his, the heat of your body as you pressed against him. His breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as he lost himself in the fantasy.

Jensen's mind conjured images of you beneath him, your body arching with need, your lips parting in a breathless moan as he touched you. He could almost feel the softness of your skin, the way you would respond to his every touch, the way your body would tremble as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

His strokes became more urgent, his body tensing with the building pleasure. He imagined the moment he would finally be inside you, the heat and tightness enveloping him as he thrust deeper, your moans growing louder with each movement. The thought of your pleasure, the look of ecstasy on your face, pushed him closer to his release.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jensen's body tensed, and he let out a low groan as he climaxed, the pleasure washing over him in waves. His hand moved slowly, milking every last drop of pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. The tension that had gripped him finally began to ease, leaving him breathless and spent.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 12

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[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt. 5 Franco x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, angst, arguments, sexting, cheating.

Summary: As tensions flare between Y/N and Lewis after a heated argument, Y/N finds unexpected solace in a late-night text exchange with Franco, her forbidden feelings reigniting despite her guilt. Torn between loyalty and the thrill of something new, Y/N struggles to navigate the boundaries of her emotions as her connection with Franco deepens.

(Note: this is lowkey a filler part, just trying to move the story along and plant some lore, if you will, for later. Thanks for liking and reading.)

The evening was winding down, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses signaling that the gala was coming to a close. People lingered, exchanging goodbyes and quiet laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through me from earlier, or the way Franco’s presence seemed to tether me to the room. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to go.

Lewis, however, seemed to have other ideas. His arm had found its way around my waist, his hand resting possessively on my hip as he kept me close to his side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be affectionate, but tonight, there was a different energy about him—an almost territorial vibe that made my heart skip, especially with Franco so close.

As we stood near the bar, Lewis’s fingers dipped slightly, brushing the small of my back in a way that felt almost like a reminder. He leaned close, his voice a soft murmur, “Ready to head home yet?”

I managed a small smile, trying to sound casual as I replied, “Maybe in a minute…”

Lewis’s hand tightened on my hip, pulling me just a bit closer, and I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and expectant. But I kept my eyes on Franco, who stood nearby, nursing a glass of champagne. There was a slight flush to his cheeks, his gaze flicking between Lewis and me, as if he was caught between his admiration for his idol and… something else. Something unspoken.

We struck up a conversation about the gala, the elegance of the setup, the cause it supported. Lewis seemed content enough to let me speak, but every now and then, his hand would drift lower, brushing over the curve of my hip, edging dangerously close to my ass. It sent a shiver through me, not entirely pleasant, because every touch reminded me of the guilt twisting in my stomach. I should be here for Lewis. But I just fucked Franco in the closet.

“Franco,” I said, my voice a little too bright, “it must be exciting, being part of f1? All the fans, the money.”

He chuckled, looking a bit bashful, his eyes darting between Lewis and me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that kind of thing. It still feels a bit surreal. Besides, compared to you two, I’m just a rookie, tagging along.”

Lewis laughed, pulling me closer, his hand slipping lower until it rested on the curve of my ass, claiming me in a way that was impossible to ignore. “You’ll get there, Franco,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Work hard enough, and maybe one day, you’ll be hosting your own events like this.”

I could see the admiration in Franco’s eyes, but there was something else too—a flicker of discomfort, or maybe jealousy, that he couldn’t quite hide. He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze shifting to me, a small, strained smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone light, but I could hear the underlying tension. “Maybe one day.”

The three of us stood there, a triangle of complicated feelings, each of us playing our parts but somehow teetering on the edge of something unspeakable. I could feel Lewis’s fingers press slightly against me, his silent message clear: I’m yours, and you’re mine. But my heart betrayed me, fluttering at the sight of Franco’s shy, slightly flushed face.

“Speaking of traveling,” Franco continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing, “You said you two might be going to Monaco soon?”

Lewis nodded, his smile proud. “That’s the plan. Got some events lined up, and it’s always nice to go back there. It’s the perfect place to relax.”

Franco nodded, but his gaze lingered on me, his eyes softening in a way that made my heart ache. “Sounds amazing,” he said quietly, and for a moment, it felt as though his words were meant for me alone, as if he wanted me to know he wished he were going, too.

The guilt clawed its way back, twisting in my stomach as I forced myself to look away. Lewis leaned close again, his breath warm against my ear. “We’re leaving. Now,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. I looked at him, slightly annoyed but he didn’t notice.

I swallowed, casting one last glance at Franco, who was watching us with a mix of longing and resignation. “Goodnight, Franco,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N. Lewis.”

I could feel the weight of his gaze as we turned to leave, and every step away from him felt like a thread being stretched thin, holding us together by the faintest of connections. As much as I knew I should be relieved to go, the ache in my chest only grew, a reminder of the forbidden feelings I couldn’t seem to let go of.

Back at Lewis’s luxurious flat, the silence wrapped around us. I quickly made my way upstairs, into his huge bedroom. As I began taking off my jewelry, one piece at a time, the remnants of the night still swirling in my mind. Franco… me.. I felt a twist of excitement and couldn’t help but smile. Lewis watched me, his gaze soft but expectant, like he was waiting for something.

“So,” he said after a moment, breaking the quiet, “what did you think of the gala? It was nice, right?” He said, watching my face.

I smiled, nodding. “It was beautiful. You did an amazing job. Your speech was…” I paused, searching for the right words, “…inspiring.” I say as I put the earrings down on the dresser.

A smile crept across his face, his chest puffing slightly, pleased with my answer. I know exactly what to say. But as I slipped off my rings, my thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Franco.

“I really hope Franco has a seat next year,” I said, almost absentmindedly. “He’s so talented, and… he deserves it.”

The softness in Lewis’s expression shifted, his gaze sharpening slightly as he looked at me. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone neutral. “He’s a good kid. But tonight wasn’t really about him.”

The subtle annoyance in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and I bit my lip, realizing how my words must have sounded. “Of course, I know,” I said quickly. “Your gala was incredible, Lewis. You put so much into it, and I’m so proud of you.”

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently rest on my shoulders, his gaze softening once more. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You have no idea how much it means to have you here with me.”

His hands trailed down my arms, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a familiar warmth through me. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to my neck, lingering as he kissed a gentle path across my skin.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on him, to let myself sink into his touch and forget everything else. This was Lewis, the man I loved, the one who had always been there for me, who had shared his world with me. But even as I leaned into him, I couldn’t shake the faint pull, the thought of Franco’s hands, the lingering touch that had marked me in ways I didn’t understand.

Lewis’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me close, his lips trailing down to my collarbone. “Tonight was perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “But it would be even better if I reminded you how much I love you...”

I forced a smile, nodding, letting him guide me, his affection a steady presence I didn’t deserve yet couldn’t resist. But deep inside, beneath the guilt and the thrill, a part of me lingered elsewhere, caught in a quiet moment with someone I couldn’t have.

And though I knew I should be fully present with Lewis, the shadow of my feelings for Franco remained, a quiet, forbidden ache I couldn’t quite let go of.

Lewis’s kisses grew more intense, his hands tightening around my waist, pulling me closer as he moved hungrily against me. His tongue swirling with mine, sending soft shivers down my spine. His desire was palpable, the urgency in his touch unmistakable.

But as much as I wanted to reciprocate, to lose myself in him, my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was a mess, my emotions tangled and conflicted, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t muster the same energy he was pouring into this moment.

He pulled back, his forehead creased in confusion, searching my face for some sign of reassurance. “What’s going on, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but tinged with frustration. “You’ve been… distant. This isn’t like you.”

I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, Lewis. You’re overthinking it.”

He let out a humorless laugh, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Overthinking it? Really? You think I don’t notice when something’s wrong with you? It’s insulting that you’d even say that to me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling defensive, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on me. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long week, that’s all.”

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “No, it’s more than that. You’re not yourself, Y/N. You don’t call me ‘lovie’ anymore. You barely respond to my texts, and when you do, it’s like… it’s like you’re somewhere else entirely.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not affectionate, you’re distant… like you’re just going through the motions.”

I felt my frustration rising, the guilt twisting in my stomach, and before I could stop myself, I snapped, “Maybe you’re just imagining things, Lewis. Not everything is about you.”

His face hardened, his expression darkening. “Imagining things?” he repeated, his voice cold. “You think I don’t notice when my girlfriend is slipping away from me? When she’s acting like she’d rather be anywhere else but with me?”

The argument escalated quickly, our voices rising as the tension between us reached a breaking point. The words tumbled out, sharp and angry, the resentment bubbling to the surface.

“You think everything’s about you,” I retorted, my voice shaking with anger. “Every conversation, every moment—it’s always centered around you, your career, your achievements. You don’t even see what’s happening around you.”

He looked at me, his jaw clenched, and I could see the hurt flash in his eyes. “You know what?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I may be a lot of things, but don’t you dare call me selfish. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve paid for everything. I bought you the best of everything, paid off your $80,000 student debt without even blinking, and you have the audacity to call me selfish?”

His words cut through me, a bitter reminder of the life he’d given me, the things he’d provided without ever asking for anything in return. And as much as I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, I couldn’t. The truth was, he had done so much for me, more than I could ever repay.

I felt a hot flush of embarrassment, my anger fading as the weight of his words settled over me. “I… I know, Lewis,” I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m grateful, I am.”

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Grateful? It doesn’t feel like it. You act like everything I do means nothing to you. I give you everything, and you treat me like I’m just… some guy.”

I huffed, too overwhelmed to say anything that would make things better. I turned, storming out of his bedroom, my steps echoing down the hallway as I tried to put distance between us, to escape the guilt and shame that clung to me.

As I reached the door, his voice followed me, sharp and accusing. “You can be so childish, Y/N! I give you everything, and you act cold and distant with me?”

I spun around, my face flushed with anger. “I do not!”

He took a step toward me, his eyes dark and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “Then prove it,” he said, his voice low and intense, the challenge in his words unmistakable.

The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, and I felt my heart pounding, the weight of his demand pressing down on me, leaving me torn between loyalty and the confusing mess of emotions swirling inside me.

“I don’t need to prove it!” I whined, sounding more like a petulant teenager than I cared to admit.

Without waiting for his response, I turned and marched down the long hall, my footsteps echoing in the quiet flat. I reached the guest bedroom, the room he’d told me was mine back when we’d first started dating, and slammed the door behind me, letting the sound reverberate through the walls. My chest heaved as I fought back tears, the mix of anger, guilt, and frustration bubbling over until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I spent the next hour sulking, feeling the sting of our argument replay in my mind. The things he’d said, the accusations… they all settled in like weights on my chest. I tried to brush it off, to convince myself that I’d been justified, but the guilt lingered, gnawing at me in a way that wouldn’t go away. Eventually, I dragged myself into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away some of the tension, and changed into some old clothes I’d left here, remnants of the days when I used to spend more time in London with him.

As I curled up on the bed, my phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a new message from Franco.

“Hey, hermosa.”

My eyes lit up, a flutter of excitement rising in my stomach that I tried to ignore. I quickly typed back, my fingers moving almost instinctively.

“Hi, Franco.”

He responded almost instantly, and I could practically hear his teasing tone.

“Why are you up so late?”

I froze for a moment, hesitation prickling in my mind. Should I tell him? Should I let him in on what had just happened? After a beat, I decided to go for it.

“Lewis…”

A pause. I watched the typing dots appear, then disappear. Finally, his response came.

“Lewis?”

The single word hung on the screen, and I stared at it, my heart pounding as I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe I was crossing a line. But before I could second-guess myself, my fingers moved again.

“Nothing.”

I hoped he’d let it go, but Franco was persistent.

“Come on. What’s wrong?”

The concern in his words made my heart ache, and suddenly, I found myself pouring out a little more than I intended.

“Just argued…”

I hesitated, watching the screen as he typed, the anticipation building.

“Are you okay, hermosa?”

His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and before I knew it, the truth spilled out.

“I wish you were here.”

A pause, and then his response came, as bold and honest as ever.

“I wish you were with me.”

My stomach flipped, and I felt the thrill building, the tension between us reawakening despite everything that had happened with Lewis. The guilty thoughts from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by the excitement that only Franco could bring out in me.

“Where are you?” I typed, my heart pounding.

There was a slight delay before his answer came, as if he were weighing his response carefully.

“My hotel.”

My fingers trembled as I typed, feeling the forbidden nature of the question.

“Where?”

His answer came quickly, but his words made me smile, a soft laugh escaping my lips.

“Hermosa… Don’t ask me that. I’m going to need you to come.”

“Fine,” I replied, smiling to myself as I felt the thrill of our conversation overpowering the guilt that had been hanging over me.

He replied almost immediately, teasingly pushing the conversation forward.

“What are you doing?”

I smirked, typing out my response.

“I’m just in bed. Giving Lewis the silent treatment.”

“Poor Lewis,” he replied with a hint of mischief. “You should be nicer to him.”

“Glazer.” I text back.

“Says you,” he shot back. I’m unable to stop myself from smiling.

“I don’t glaze him.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his attempt to tease me.

“Sure.”

A laugh slipped past my lips, and I could feel my mood lifting, the heaviness of the evening melting away in the warmth of Franco’s messages.

“So you are just in bed?” he texted, and I felt my heart race at the subtle implication.

“Yes,” I replied, biting my lip as I waited for his response.

A moment later, his next message appeared, sending a thrill through me that I couldn’t deny.

“I would love a picture.”

My stomach twisted with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Should I send him a selfie? This was already dangerous territory, pushing boundaries I shouldn’t be touching… and yet, the thrill was undeniable, a pull I couldn’t resist.

I glanced at the mirror across the room, debating with myself. My heart pounded as I weighed the options, the rational part of me screaming to stop, while the reckless side urged me to go for it. After all, it was just a picture, right? Just a small, innocent picture…

My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Just a picture, I told myself, nothing more.

I stood up and walked over to the mirror, taking a moment to adjust my appearance. My tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of my waist. I tugged it down, but not before taking a quick selfie, capturing the tantalizing glimpse of skin.

Too much? Maybe it’s not enough…I wondered, biting my lip as I debated. But then again, Franco had asked for a picture...

With a flush creeping up my neck, I decided to take another photo, this time angling the camera to show off my cleavage. My breasts strained against the thin fabric of my top, the outline of my nipples visible through the material.

I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. What am I doing? I thought, panic rising in my throat. But then I remembered the thrill of Franco's earlier messages, the way his words had made me feel desired, wanted.

Before I could second-guess myself, I hit send, the picture winging its way to Franco's phone. I immediately felt guilty, my stomach twisting with a mixture of excitement and shame.

Oh god, what if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, even as a part of me thrilled at the danger, the taboo nature of what I had just done.

I paced the room, my heart pounding as I waited for Franco's response. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Maybe he didn't like it, I thought, panic rising in my chest. Maybe I went too far...

But then, my phone buzzed with a new message, and I nearly dropped it in my haste to read it.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous. You’re going to give me this while I can’t be near you? Evil." Franco had written.

I felt a rush of heat flood through me at Franco's words, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. I know I am doing.. and I hate that I’m enjoying this..

A thrill of excitement coursed through me, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a response.

"Your turn," I wrote, my fingers trembling slightly as I hit send. "I want to see you too."

Oh god, what am I doing? I thought, my stomach twisting with a heady mix of anticipation and anxiety. But I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me at the thought of seeing Franco, of having something tangible to fantasize about.

After a few seconds, I get a notification.

It’s a picture of Franco, in the big hotel bed. His abs on full display. My stomach twirls.

I feel myself grow with need. Need for him.

I can’t respond.. what am I doing?! But my fingers are doing something else entirely, typing out another message.

“I didn’t get to see that tonight.” I text back. Even in the throes of our rushed closet moment, I didn’t get to see all of him.

“Well, I didn’t get to see it all either.”

My face heats up. Fuck….

“Would you like to pretty boy?” I hit send. I turn my phone off and throw it at the edge of the bed. What’s wrong with me?! Lewis is literally done the hall.

I felt a rush of panic as I threw my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell am I doing? I thought, my mind reeling. Lewis is right down the hall, and I'm sexting with Franco?

But even as I tried to talk myself down, I couldn't ignore the heat that still pulsed through my body, the ache that had settled low in my belly. God, I want him, I admitted to myself, biting my lip hard enough to hurt. I want to see more of him, to feel his hands on my skin...

I paced the room, my mind racing with possibilities. We could sneak away, I thought, my heart rate picking up at the idea. Meet up somewhere private, somewhere where no one would catch us...

I shook my head, trying to clear it. No, I can't, I told myself firmly. I can't do this to Lewis, can't betray him like this. Even if he did hurt me tonight, even if he is an asshole sometimes... I love him. I can't throw that away.

But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body reacted at the thought of Franco, the way my skin tingled with anticipation. Fuck, I thought, running a hand through my hair in frustration. What the hell do I do?

I glanced at my phone, sitting innocently on the bed. I should just leave it, I thought, my resolve wavering. Should just ignore his messages and try to forget this ever happened...

But even as I thought it, I found myself walking towards the bed, my hand reaching out for the phone. Just one more look, I told myself, my fingers closing around the device. Just one more peek, and then I'll put it away. I swear.

I unlocked the phone, my heart pounding as I saw the unread message from Franco. Don't open it, I told myself, my finger hovering over the screen. Don't do it, Y/N. Just put the phone down and walk away...

I stared at the screen, my finger trembling as I hovered over Franco's message. Don't open it, I told myself, my heart pounding in my chest. Just put the phone down and walk away...

With a shaky breath, I opened the message, my eyes widening as I read Franco's words.

“Please, baby.”

I hesitated for a moment, torn between my desire for Franco and my loyalty to Lewis. But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body responded to Franco's messages, the way my heart raced at the thought of sending more to him. Just one more picture, I told myself, my resolve crumbling. Just one more peek, and then I'll stop. I promise.

I pull my shirt up and over my head, letting it gently fall to the ground. I pick my phone up as I take a few tantalizing photos of my bare chest.

I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. This is crazy, I thought, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm really going to send him a topless picture?

I sat on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the screen, waiting for Franco's response. I can't believe I just sent him a topless picture, I thought, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement and shame. What if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Hey, sweetheart," Lewis called softly, his voice muffled through the wood. "Can we please talk?"

I froze, my eyes widening in panic. Oh god, he's here, I thought, my stomach twisting with dread. He's going to see me like this, topless and waiting for Franco's reply...

I scrambled to grab my tank top from the floor, my hands shaking as I tried to grab it. But it was too late. The door swung open, and Lewis stepped into the room, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. My hands drop the shirt, on the end of the bed on accident.

"Y/N, what..." he started, but his voice trailed off as he took in my state of undress. I could feel his gaze on my bare breasts.

I quickly covered my chest with my hands, my face burning with embarrassment and shame. I fully expected Lewis to be furious, to demand an explanation for why I was half-naked.

But instead, he just smiled and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you couldn't find a shirt in here?" he teased, his tone light and playful.

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his reaction. "I... um..." I stammered, my mind racing to come up with an excuse. "I was just hot," I finally managed, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

Lewis's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. "Hot, huh?" he said, his voice tight. "Funny, I just turned the AC up."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. He knows, I thought, panic rising in my throat. He knows I was doing something, something wrong...

I could feel Lewis's eyes boring into me, his gaze intense and searching. I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my hands still covering my chest. He knows something's up, I thought, my heart hammering in my chest. He just doesn't know what.

"Come on, babe," Lewis said finally, his voice tight. "Let's go back to our room and talk, okay?"

I nodded numbly, my mind racing. Should I tell him the truth? I wondered, my stomach churning with guilt and fear. Should I confess to sexting with Franco, to sending him topless pictures?

But even as I thought it, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't hurt Lewis like that, couldn't betray him with the truth of what I had done.

"Okay," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

I reached for my tank top, my hands still shaking as I pulled it over my head. Lewis watched me, his expression unreadable. He knows, I thought again, my heart sinking.

I followed Lewis out of the room, my steps heavy and slow.

As we walked down the hall, I could feel the weight of my guilt pressing down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its heavy burden. I'm a terrible person, I thought, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I'm a liar and a cheat, and I don't deserve Lewis's love or trust.

————————————————-

🙈😅 yikes. Lewis LEWIS HE KNOWS AHHHHHH … or does he? Hehe.

Next time Franco will be getting involved into some online drama 🙈

Please like and follow to let me know you want more!

I appreciate all of you! 💜

[callie-the-creator]

and they were roommates

sfw. warnings: reader is gender-neutral, mild scott pilgrim vs. the world spoilers, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, migraines, hangovers, angst, a sad wallace, etc.

author’s note: scott is my least favorite character, so expect some jabs to be thrown at him in here. anyway, sorry if this is trash or too cringeworthy. i tried my best, y’all ✌🏻

• you’ve known of wallace through a few stories your closest friend, stacey pilgrim. you mainly just listened to her rant about him stealing a few of her boyfriends.

— sadly though, wallace ended up breaking things off with other scott…and jimmy…and that other guy that he can’t remember the name of. the good thing is that scott finally moved out since he is planning on living with ramona. still…it did get a little lonely at times.

• because of how sad and isolated he felt, wallace began to drink. well, more than usual anyway. every night he could be seen lounging at his favorite bar with a generous of empty beer bottles/cans in front of him.

• it wasn’t until the fourth night of this repetitive cycle is when wallace met you: [name: y/n l/n. occupation: bartender. 24 years old and he’s never seen you until tonight which is surprising since wallace practically knows everybody.]

— right off the bat, you two hit it off right away. there was an underlying tension there but for the first few occurrences when you either bumped into wallace in the street or found him at the bar, it goes untouched & unmentioned.

• that was until wallace asked for you phone number when he is drunk. it was really sappy, but he was still nice about it. it makes you happy that wallace isn’t an angry drunk, like whatsoever. he’s just happy to be there and very sleepy. there were a few times where you had to give him over to his place because you didn’t trust him to get there on his own.

• you were always so kind to him, always treating him better than he probably deserved.

• needless to say, it didn’t take long for wallace to think of you in the highest regards. you two even started hanging out outside of the bar where you work at. if he needed something to be picked up, you’ll do it with no questions asked or you would sometimes pay for his coffee if you were out to get yourself a drink too.

— just after a few weeks of knowing you, wallace fell head over heels. and he had it bad.

• of course, he tried to suppress his feelings and tried his damn best to not make it obvious. so, what did our dear wallace do to ensure that? he started to ignore you, partially at least, and became awkward. like…scott pilgrim-level awkward. it’s weird since wallace has always been known to be the complete opposite of his ex-roommate. he’s very easy going, calm, and the voice of reason to many.

• he’s a flirt too. so, why are you having this effect on him? he just couldn’t understand why he suddenly became a bumbling idiot.

• you were worried that you did something to push wallace away, but all your questions were answered when you returned one night to find that he left a drunken message in your answering machine.

— “hey, you know, hic, i've been thinkin', like, a lot. (long pause) and, um, i just wanna say, you're, like, really somethin' special, ya know? (slight slur) i feel all mushy and stuff, but yeah, i kinda, sorta...love you, maybe? (awkward pause) yeah, that's it. hic”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.7

Hi guyss, here's the new part and part 6 if you've missed it, if you want to read this story from the beginning you can find it on my masterlist.

Qualifying day is always a whirlwind of activity, especially when you’re working with Ferrari. You’ve been darting from one task to the next all morning, making sure everything runs smoothly for Carlos and the team. The tension in the air is palpable, as it always is before qualy, and you can feel it seeping into your own nerves.

But you need a break. A real one. So when breakfast time rolls around, instead of heading to the Ferrari motorhome like you usually do, you decide to switch things up. You head to McLaren to meet Lando.

As you walk into the McLaren hospitality area, you spot Lando already sitting at a table, nursing a coffee. His face lights up when he sees you, and that familiar feeling of ease settles over you. There’s something about being around Lando that always manages to calm your racing thoughts.

"Decided to join the winning side for breakfast, huh?" Lando teases as you sit down across from him, grabbing a croissant.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Hey, I’m just here for the company. And maybe the coffee."

He grins, leaning back in his chair. "Fair enough. So, how’s everything going on the Ferrari side? Carlos feeling ready for qualy?"

You shrug, taking a bite of your food. "As ready as he ever is. You know how he gets—focused but with that underlying confidence."

Lando nods, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, that sounds like him. How about you? Surviving the madness?"

Before you can answer, your phone buzzes on the table. You glance down to see a message from Carlos.

Carlos: Where are you? Why aren’t you at Ferrari?

You hesitate for a second before typing back a response.

You: I’m on my break. Just grabbing breakfast.

A few moments pass, and then another message comes through.

Carlos: Weird. I’m just not used to you not being around all the time.

His words make you pause. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that Carlos is still adjusting to the fact that you’re not constantly by his side like you used to be. For so long, you’ve been his shadow, always available, always there. But things are different now.

Before you can dwell on it for too long, Lando interrupts your thoughts. "Everything okay?" he asks, glancing at your phone.

"Yeah, just Carlos being… Carlos," you say with a small smile. "Still not used to me not following him around everywhere."

Lando chuckles. "Guess that’s part of the deal now. You’ve got a life outside of Ferrari."

Just as you’re about to dive back into your conversation with Lando, you hear a voice behind you. "Hey, there you are!"

You turn to see Carlos approaching, his girlfriend by his side. The moment feels surreal, almost like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t. There’s a strange look in his eyes, like he’s surprised to see you with Lando.

Carlos stops by your table, glancing between you and Lando. "Since you two are together, we thought we’d join you for breakfast." His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite place.

You look at Lando, who raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He gestures to the empty seats, and Carlos and his girlfriend sit down, though the tension in the air is almost immediate.

Carlos’s girlfriend gives you a tight smile, though her eyes are cold, practically throwing daggers at you. You shift uncomfortably, not quite sure what to say or do. Carlos, meanwhile, seems distracted, his attention constantly drifting back to you as if he’s trying to catch your eye, like he wants to say something but can’t in front of everyone.

“So,” Carlos says after a moment, leaning slightly toward you, “you’ve been busy with McLaren, huh?”

You nod, trying to keep things casual. “Just grabbing breakfast with Lando before things get crazy again.”

His girlfriend’s eyes narrow slightly, but she stays silent, her body language stiff as she crosses her arms. The tension is unbearable, and you feel like you’re stuck in the middle of something you didn’t ask to be a part of.

Sensing the awkwardness, Lando jumps in, flashing a disarming grin. “Yeah, we were just talking about the race. You guys ready for quali?”

Carlos shrugs, though he still seems distracted. "Always. But I guess I’m just not used to seeing her on this side of the paddock." He throws you a small, almost teasing smile, but there’s a hint of something else—something that makes the air feel heavier.

Lando glances at you, sensing your discomfort. Without missing a beat, he shifts the focus back to himself, leaning forward with an exaggerated seriousness. "Well, you know, Carlos, she’s clearly upgraded teams. Breakfast with McLaren is way more fun."

His comment draws a small laugh from you, breaking some of the tension, and even Carlos cracks a smile, though his girlfriend’s expression remains icy.

"Can’t argue with that," Carlos replies, his tone lighter now, but the tension still lingers.

Lando’s easy banter helps, and you’re grateful for how effortlessly he manages to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness. He keeps things light, making jokes about the upcoming race, teasing Carlos about their on-track rivalry, and gradually, the mood eases.

But even as the conversation flows, you can feel Carlos’s gaze flickering toward you, like he’s waiting for a moment to talk to you alone. His girlfriend sits stiffly next to him, her eyes occasionally darting your way, but you do your best to avoid making direct eye contact with her.

By the time breakfast wraps up, the tension has dissipated enough that you can breathe a little easier. You gather your things, ready to head back to Ferrari and face the rest of the day. Carlos stands up beside his girlfriend, giving you a look as though he’s expecting you to fall into step beside him like usual.

“Are you coming back with us to Ferrari?” he asks, his voice casual but with a hint of familiarity, as if this is just another day where you’d automatically follow him back.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, Lando jumps in with a grin. “Yeah, she is. But wait a minute.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, Lando steps forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you toward him. In one swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist, drawing you closer.

And then, without warning, he leans down and kisses you.

It’s soft but confident, catching you completely off guard. Your heart races in your chest, and for a second, everything around you seems to fade away—the paddock, Carlos, even the awkward tension from earlier. There’s just Lando, his lips pressing warmly against yours in a brief but heart-fluttering kiss.

When he pulls back, a teasing smile plays on his lips. “Good luck kiss for qualy,” he says lightly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your face burns with heat, your cheeks surely as red as Ferrari’s team colors. You’re too stunned to say anything, completely thrown by Lando’s boldness, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tells you he knows exactly what he’s done.

Carlos, standing just a few feet away, watches the whole thing with a look of surprise, his girlfriend's expression unreadable beside him.

You manage to mumble something about heading back to Ferrari before quickly excusing yourself, feeling Lando’s gaze on you the entire time. As you walk back toward Ferrari, your face is still flushed, your heart pounding from the unexpected kiss.

Part 8

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl, @under-seasoned-pasta, @marshmummy, @weekendlusting, @jaimeleannavanlloman

[waitmyturtles]

I LOVE 4 MINUTES.

I love it! GAAAAAHHH, I love it. While Be On Cloud’s KinnPorsche was so BL-referential, I just love this juicy Dr. Sammon-mystery genre that takes us out of trope-land. Queer murder mysteries, my beloved.

I have no theories, per se, about where I think this show is going, but I am going to jot down some observations for my own posterity and memory. After reading some theories on Twitter (including one that Dr. Sammon herself retweeted), I went back and fast-forwarded through all the episodes so far, so here are my notes (and these VERY WELL may have been repeated in the tag, so I apologize if I’m just pooping what we’re already assuming here).

1) This Twitter account noted that Tonkla saw his cat in episode 1, after what-we-assume-to-be present-day boing with Korn. Tonkla sees this AFTER Korn rushed off after getting off the phone. After this week’s episode, we seem to be informed that said cat had died in the past.

We also know that Tonkla has a habit of lighting up after sex and during times of duress.

There might be more than just tobacco in those cigarettes he’s lighting up, I’m not sure, but we also know he hits the shabu, pipe-wise.

Besides Great being in what I assume to be, and what I call, a fever-state, or better phrased, a cardiac episode, I am assuming that Tonkla is transcending his own lines of reality through drug use.

1a) [(A quick aside: I just wanna say that I will be VERY. CURIOUS. as to how Tonkla’s drug use is positioned alongside his predilections for unprotected sex, and if I think there will be public health commentary in this. Drug use is, of course, generally not recommended by medical professionals, and at the same time, it’s a culturally important element of many facets of queer culture that many physicians who work with LGBTQ+ patients are trained to be aware of; for example, using poppers to ease the process of preparing for intercourse. I don’t know if the show means to indicate that Tonkla, vis à vis being on PrEP and meth at the same time, is an automatically unsafe person…but he also might be a murderer… so yeah, I will be curious about this underlying public health messaging.)]

1b) (Speaking of public health, yo, we needed those Durex bottles in episode 4, YOWCH.) (😬) (ANYWAY.)

2) So, speaking of Great and Tonkla living in their own realities, I also want to posit that Tyme has created his own sense of delirium by literally not sleeping.

Homeboy is on his shifts, he’s working out, he’s solving mysteries, he’s kicking literal ass, he’s investigating and courting Great, he’s following Korn. He’s doing a lot! We haven’t caught him sleeping yet, again, literally.

I wonder if this may be Dr. Sammon commenting on the culture of insanely long shifts for doctors, which impacts their mental and physical well-being. We’ve also separately learned that Tyme is driven by revenge, and by a need to support his grandma and save Nan. But how can he do all of that, if he’s physically depriving himself of the ability to rest? I don’t know if this is going to go anywhere, but I do notice the camera work, whenever Tyme is scrubbing out of a shift, re-centering from a tilt, which makes me wonder about what these shots are telling us about his mental state (and we saw comparable camera work when Tonkla thought he saw Dome).

(I’m also not forgetting that the show shows him stabbed at the very start of the series, and I’m constantly wondering about that.)

3) Finally, I want to offer that Korn, Great, and Tyme are not out. At least for Great and Tyme, does that contribute to a delirium mindset (and maybe even Korn, too) by way of the stress of holding in secrets? (Please note that this linked article is from 2004 and does not have fully updated terminology.)

I don’t know if this theory holds for Great, because a popular theory for him at the start of the series was that he may not have realized he was gay until he met Tyme. I don’t know that I saw that in my very-fast rewatch except for his surprised looks during the stitches moment in the hospital. Great’s comfort with Tyme in the car after the claw machines makes me think he knew more about his sexuality, and his physical separation from his family at the dinner table in episode 1 also makes me wonder if he realized his preferences were always going to separate him from his nuclear family. I’m not sure, but I’m chewing on this.

4) So, where I’m gonna go entering into episode 5 is that there isn’t a centered or accurate “present day” for anyone….mayyyybe except for Korn, who is certainly living his own fever dream of being stuck in a reeeeeeally bad job, but maybe isn’t being subjected to mental delirious psychoses (just, you know, the general stress of hating your work thoroughly). But I could be wrong there, too, because we know that Korn is driven by greed, filial piety, and a desire to take over the family business. So maybe that’s creating a delirium of his own, one that takes him away from his boyfriend for weeks at a time.

4a) (By the way, isn’t it interesting that we are not seeing NC scenes with Korn and Fasai? I know, I know, Be On Cloud does queer/BL content, but. I think it’d be interesting if the show ran the gamut of intimacy. Just a thought.)

Anyway! This show is so good, it’s making me babble. I absolutely love it, and it is the comeback that Bible Wichapas deserves.

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect! 

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect! 

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ? 

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap. 

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right? 

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model. 

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up. 

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — — 

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?” 

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box. 

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod. 

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second. 

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her. 

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?” 

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday. 

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan. 

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone. 

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red. 

Okay, let’s try this again. 

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present. 

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule. 

Check. 

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure. 

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse. 

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — — 

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in. 

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?” 

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue. 

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust. 

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth. 

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink. 

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse. 

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — — 

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process. 

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom. 

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it. 

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!” 

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides. 

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you. 

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself. 

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response. 

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.” 

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it. 

“Deal. Now let me go.” 

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.” 

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly. 

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

[theomnicode]

Perception bias, round 2 Director's cut, Saigenos edition!

(or basically, how my brain jumps into another topic only loosely related to the original ask)

Thank you @itsmaferart For the wonderful ask again. :)

Warning: Long post ahead

-*-

Perception bias also serves another more...sinister purpose for Saitama. Psychological conditioning. There is potential evidence for deprivation of basic needs, conditioning for violence for protection and subliminal messages for suggestion, among other things.

Being deprived of all these needs is akin to mental torture. But so is facing all of the underlying issues at once via hypnotherapy and cognitive behavioural therapy if the patient is sufficiently dysfunctional in a societal setting like Saitama happens to be. Especially if the therapies are performed...poorly.

CBT has shown to be the most effective intervention for people exposed to adverse childhood experiences in the form of abuse or neglect Criticism of CBT sometimes focuses on implementations (such as the UK which may result initially in low quality therapy being offered by poorly trained practitioners. However, evidence supports the effectiveness of CBT for anxiety and depression. Evidence suggests that the addition of hypnotherapy as an adjunct to CBT improves treatment efficacy for a variety of clinical issues. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and its symptoms have been shown to improve due to implementation of hypnotherapy, in both long and short term. As research continues, hypnotherapy is being more openly considered as an effective intervention for those with PTSD.

In short, in order to heal mentally, Saitama may need to face mental torture because he has such strong willpower and such strong mental barriers shielding his vulnerabilities on a basic primal need. There only needs to be a sufficient trigger.

ONE sent Saitama home to restore his energy levels...because he's going to sorely need them for the upcoming confrontation.

Empty Void's ability to genjutsu people casually and cause parallel shifts in the reality and using these to abuse emotional dependencies is like a loaded Chekov's gun on Saitama's forehead. Because Saitama has been roleplaying to re-learn his emphatic skillset after he had suffered too much mental trauma.

That's why early Saitama did not even bat an eye when Beefcake killed his own brother but now he's empathizing with Hamukichi. That's what I call character progression.

Even a compulsive planner like Saitama cannot predict what will happen because he's not familiar with Blast's maladaptive coping methods deep down. Blast is great at masking because they are coping methods so he can bear with his guilt and other issues and just wants to do things on his own, without assistance.

This causes Saitama's perception bias about Blast who seems capable and emphatic, when he is in actuality unscrupulous and amorally indifferent if you really, REALLY study him hard enough.

My bro casually invited Saitama, who is sensitive to aggression, hostility and violence, to watch literal torture of human turned monsters, with an actual smile on his face. And justifying it with his end justify the means philosophy. That's awfully too close to being sadistic and cruel when you consider the ramifications.

They say "love is blind" and Saitama is wearing some rose tinted glasses on because Blast is straight up shady, but he does not see it because he's probably identifying with Blast so hard. Middle-aged, number 1# hero, powerful, confident, outwardly caring, intuitive, ruggedly handsome, positively masculine, secretly gay...you name it. Everything Saitama more than likely fantasies about being because he's so emotionally dependant on Genos and he wants to better himself for Genos due to all his insecurities.

Oh yeah time for some saigenos. *rubs hands*

The very first Genos tells him is to tell Saitama to hide in order to protect him. Saitama has a lot of dependency issues since he has been a small child because he was so emotionally lonely and never got the safety he needed to cope well in life. There are definitely some underlying anxieties or disorders laying about.

Second thing Genos does is show just how smart, capable, cool and devilishly attractive he can be when he gets passionate and engages in combat. Genos can get an awed reaction even from Saitama who's emotions were being blunted during their first spar.

Third is showing he's not gonna judge Saitama for completely embarassing himself, even if he was to get naked around him and lower his inhibitions and showing him it would be ok to trust him on the level of intimacy he craves so dearly. (Season 2 Blu-ray & Dvd: Saitama and the mysterious heroine)

Fourth is showing that Genos is also extremely resilient even when getting hurt...because Saitama hates to see others hurting and he doesn't want it to happen because of him.

And finally the fifth...is because Genos is just as emotionally lonely as he is, but he's unable to let go of his emotional dependencies because he trauma bonds so deeply. He would rather double KO for a Game Over screen than let the monsters win over him and his loved ones on pure principle and take those he trauma bonds with him, because emotional abandonment and guilt would kill him deep inside, so he would rather end it himself for a shred of agency before he withers away.

All these draw in Saitama like moth to a flame and he easily lets Genos into his life. Because he identifies with the lonely teenage boy Genos with traumas who is so familiar to him like coming home.

-*-

Despite everything that has happened to Saitama, he tries to remain optimistic. He's not naturally prone to cynicism unless under great amount of duress. The worst thing to do against him would be Genos emotionally betraying him, betray everything that he perceived in him since the first day they met.

But Saitama has perception bias towards Genos too...such as that Genos is no longer the small teenage boy who needs to be sheltered and cared for, but a battle-hardened soldier. Neither is he a lost naive little sibling in need of guidance or chaperone but an adult wanting mentorship where he can be truly open about his own issues. Would be such a shame if these wrong illusions about Genos were to be shattered...painfully. If Genos were to ever violate that implicit trust Saitama gives to him.

My brother in christ Saitama, he's not actually related to you and he's not your family member even if you'd love him enough to adopt him or something. Not letting go of this notion will spell trouble, like wonky image of relationships and intimacy.

(Yea Saitama please he's not actually related to you, even if it's kind of endearing that Saitama considers Genos to be as close like a family member)

It'll just get worse if Saitama confuses emotional intimacy with sexuality because of his bad upbringing when he's never had any friends and missing his parents too and all his role models have been aggressive and toxic people.

Funny how Saitama's first conclusion about Dr. Genus being interested in his body was sexual in nature and he immediately got defensive. He essentially revealed himself as someone who doesn't even know for sure which way he swings. Which would be quite classic for infj demi but I'll get to that if it becomes more relevant.

Genos naturally knows best though, poor guy looks so disappointed haha. Doesn't stop Genos from attempting every trick in the book besides outright throwing roses at Saitama and arranging dates to get into his good side and woo him, he dressed up so nicely for a spar haha. Dressing to impress, yup. And then he got himself new shiny body and practically walked weeks without a shirt on just so Saitama would see it. (Chapter 185: Updates) My guy has it down bad for Saitama, but Saitama seems oblivious to Genos indirect advances and Genos gave up and finally found a shirt to put on.

(I would pay to see Genos actually chuck roses at Saitama though.)

Even Saitama has to acknowledge that Genos is objectively a hottie though, because in the webcomic he says something along the lines of "he's not even pretty" about Amai-mask and it really makes you think the standards of who Saitama considers pretty when even ikemen like Amai-mask won't do.

-*-

Genos unfortunately is growing up some pretty large perception bias about Saitama after the time travel fiasco. His idolization of Saitama is becoming obsessive and objectifying, like Saitama can do no wrong and that Saitama is some kind of messiah.

Genos also does not take no for an answer. It would be incredibly damaging to both Saitama and Genos when this perception bias is broken when Saitama gets too much on his plate to handle. Like for example...Empty void's specialty, messing with emotional bonds and inducing traumatic events like the illusion of death to break any emotional bond, just like he did to Flashy flash and Sonic.

I do greatly anticipate how Empty Void's fight is going to proceed, we might be in for very big perceptional bias shifts all around, like Flash was forced to acknowledge that he's emotionally dependant on Sonic. (Chapter 201: You pass) And Saitama's idolization of Blast will come crashing down when he finds out what Blast is really up to.

I'll throw some funny perception bias at the end.

[pepi1989]

On the Right Track - Ben Shelton

Ben wasn’t usually nervous. Tennis courts, the roar of the crowd, high-stakes tournaments, he thrived in those moments. But today was different. Today, he was at an event for ON, Roger Federer’s brand, and the man himself had just casually suggested Ben to meet his daughter.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the venue, and Ben stood near a display of the new sneakers, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He glanced at Roger, who had the cool confidence of someone who’d been on top of the world for decades, and then at her, the 21 year old Federer daughter, across the lawn, chatting with someone. Ben swallowed. She was Roger Federer’s daughter, and somehow that made it all the more intimidating.

Roger didn’t give him much time to process. “You should meet her,” he said casually, but the grin on his face was unmistakable. “She loves tennis. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about.” He clapped Ben on the back, just as Ben’s eyes widened slightly.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ben stammered, trying to recover quickly. “I’d love to.”

Roger led him across the patio, effortlessly gliding through the small crowd. Ben followed, his heart hammering, trying to remind himself that this wasn’t a match, just a casual conversation. With her. No pressure.

As they approached, she turned, catching sight of them. A playful smile spread across her face, eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and something else. Roger cleared his throat.

“Y/N, this is Ben Shelton. You’ve probably seen him around the courts,” Roger said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment more than he let on.

She looked Ben up and down, then extended a hand. “Of course I know who you are. Nice to finally meet you,” she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. “Dad’s talked a lot about you.”

Ben felt the nerves melt away just a little as he shook her hand. “All good things, I hope?”

“Oh, only the best,” she laughed, pulling her hand back. “Although, beating my favorite player last week? I’m still not over it.”

Ben blinked. “Wait, who was your favorite? Don’t tell me it was Rafa…”

“Nah, it was you,” she shot back smoothly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “But don’t get too cocky, Shelton.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, the ice breaking as easily as a backhand slice. “Guess I’ve got some work to do to win back your approval, huh?”

She shrugged, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

They talked easily from that moment on, the conversation flowing from tennis to travel, to the quirks of growing up with a legendary dad. Ben found himself forgetting about the pressure, the nerves. She was quick-witted, sharp, and, most of all, totally down to earth, which was not what he expected.

“So,” she said at one point, turning the tables on him, “what’s it like being the rising star everyone’s got their eyes on? You must feel the pressure sometimes.”

Ben shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. “It’s not that different from playing a match. There’s always someone watching, but you just focus on what’s in front of you. In this case…”

He hesitated, catching her gaze before finishing, “…what’s in front of me is a little more distracting than usual.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. “Oh really? Is that your way of saying I’m intimidating?”

“Not intimidating,” he replied, stepping closer. “Just… different.”

Before she could answer, Roger reappeared, interrupting the moment. His dad instincts were probably kicking in, Ben could feel it. He glanced between them, smiling that knowing smile of his.

“Everything going well?” Roger asked innocently, though Ben could tell he wasn’t really asking.

“Yeah,” she replied, shooting Ben a quick look. “Ben’s doing fine.”

Roger chuckled, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “Well, I’ve got to head back inside, but Ben, take care of her, okay?” His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

Ben felt his throat tighten slightly, but he nodded, his voice steady. “Of course.”

As Roger left, she turned to Ben, grinning. “I see my dad’s working his magic again. He’s subtle, isn’t he?”

“Real subtle,” Ben said, chuckling. “But he’s right about one thing, I do plan to take care of you tonight.”

“Oh?” she said, eyebrow raised. “What’s the plan, Shelton?”

“Well,” Ben started, relaxing more, “there’s supposed to be a rooftop after-party in about an hour, but I’m thinking we could ditch it and get out of here.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “And go where?”

“I don’t know yet,” Ben replied, grinning now, the confidence coming back. “But I’ll figure it out. You up for a little adventure?”

“Always,” she said with a smile that could’ve lit up a whole tennis stadium. “Lead the way.”

Ben knew right then, with her by his side, that whatever pressure he had felt melted away. All he could think about was how lucky he was to have been linked up by none other than Roger Federer himself.

[yuurivoice]

Not answering is A-okay with me fyi, but I just wanted to say as someone who struggles, THANK YOU for the sh "content" take. Do some people have good intentions? Sure, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Do good intentions even begin to scratch the surface of qualifying someone to handle it in a respectful and proper way regardless of personal experience? Nah. Thanks for keeping your space cool and safe, you're a real one.

- appreciative long time follower

I appreciate the message because sometimes I second guess myself like omg is my stance on this too firm? So hearing that I'm making sense to someone is comforting.

If that sort of stuff has helped people, etc, and it never got weird, I'm glad it helped. I wouldn't want to diminish that experience.

At the same time, my exposure to this that radicalized me was when I stopped in on someone's stream to get some insight into a situation (untold years ago) and got some key info that I think set my opinion in stone.

People boasting that they were making content like that for vulnerable people, and that those people "need us", framing the dynamic in the most codependent, unhealthy way you could fathom.

People who had been making this content since they were MINORS, and into young adulthood, who were also at risk themselves at the time.

Financially incentivizing their help with donations and wishlists, leveraging their own struggles and lack to create what I feel is a radically unhealthy relationship between comfort/aid and risky spending.

So yeah. I don't take too kindly to idiots with microphones specifically targeting vulnerable individuals who need a hotline far more than a parasocial hyperfixation.

I don't speak on a whole lot on shit in the ASMR Roleplay slash hobbyist VA space, but that in particular is a rancid corner I stumbled across that I think invites some of the most at risk, vulnerable members of the community to put their wellness in the hands of people who I frankly wouldn't trust to put my fries in the goddamn bag let alone talk to me about the value of my life and why I should stick around.

If I seem harsh, it's because somebody damn well should be. Shit isn't a game.

Anywho......yep. The topic came up recently in private when I was dealing with an unrelated situation, and I remembered this exact thing and how much it bothered me.

I can respect anyone who would like to hear very specific comfort from one of my boys. I don't fault you for that. You know they'd want the best for you. I just don't think I can personally deliver it to you, and they wouldn't want me to, because I can't do nearly enough for you. You deserve better than care being pantomimed and imagined, and no matter how alone you feel, there are people who will fight for you, you gotta go grab them and tell them you need that. And if they fail, you try again, and again.

Me and my content can be a lot of things, and helping soothe aches is a big part of the job, but there are limits. I think there has to be for the safety and peace for everyone involved.

I can't risk putting myself in a spot where someone has to rely on me like that, and I wouldn't want to put them at risk either. Because I can fail. Maybe the words wouldn't be right. Or the tone didn't match their needs. Or it was just too little too late.

For everyone, that's a path we shouldn't go down. But we can still support one another. I think my characters and their stories are filled with messages and purpose for people who are in need, because I've been there. Quite literally, I'm familiar with the territory. So what I've created reflects that journey. It may not be specifically comfort for the thing. But the underlying meaning and purpose is one that speaks to some of those dark places.

Or not. Because it's art. You'll take what you want from it. But you'd probably find it there if you need to.

Anywho. Thanks for the message, Anon. Take care of yourselves, everyone. 💖