#cruel pancake

[chiaraferragniwardrobe]

Who: Chiara Ferragni

What: Cruel Pancake Just kiss Me T-Shirt - Sold Out Where: Instagram Story - September 4, 2023

Worn with: Paris Texas boots and Hublot watch

[nico-di-genova]

He is so boyfriend coded it makes me sick.

[quietwingsinthesky]

what they do not warn you about learning to cook is that you will now want to cook for everyone all the time, and you can’t do that because your friends are all very very far away and your family doesn’t want you in their kitchens making them breakfast

[dinomitegirl]

fuck mr beast

[everydayimhusserling]

*me giving my cat his breakfast in little portions so he doesn't eat it too fast and throw up*: what a silly little boy

*me five hours later lying on the floor because I ate my body weight in pancakes in fifteen seconds*: It is I who was the silly little boy all along

[bending-sickle]

it’s a holiday here tomorrow (why? idk i just live here) so i just made pancakes for tomorrow’s breakfast (so i don’t have to cook them in the morning because fuck that noise)

this is the most i have done all day :)))

[kerizaret]

💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨

they lie in wait to be detonated as soon as you fall into slumber

There. They're all dead. Are you happy with yourself

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

���PART TWO

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: Glad you guys loved the first part despite it being so short.

PART ONE | PART THREE | NAVIGATION

The sunlight passed by the small gaps of the curtains, shining down on the face of a sleeping boy. Light blond hair messy but perfectly framing his beautiful face, red circles on his pale cheeks, a pop of color. He groans as he buries his face underneath the large fluffy white blanket, eventually groaning as he opens his eyes, [e/c] eyes adjusting to the brightness of his room. Sitting up on his queen sized bed that is surrounded by pillows. As much as he wants to sleep in, he has duties as an angel and as the son of [y/n] Caeles.

Getting out of bed, slipping his feet into the fluffy white slippers. He moved across his large room, stopping by a large mirror.

He frowns when sees his reflection, the only thing he can see is his deadbeat father who left his mother for another woman.

He hated it, he could see his supposed father staring back at him through the mirror. The fallen angel, Lucifer staring right back at him. A cruel reminder that he is his father's son.

He's thankful he has her eyes, at least he was able to have a piece of her on him. He hated his father, his mother never hid his father from him and told him everything what he wanted to know. He'd do anything for his mother. He loves her so much.

He knows that his mother often gets sad when he sees him, he knows because she could see the man that hurt her on his face. He doesn't blame her. He hated his face too, despite it being heaven's most beautiful facial features. He wished he had his mother's face instead.

Getting a large robe that was placed on the cushioned chair, draping it over his body. Time to get ready, he has a lot of work to do.

[Y/n] looks up from her newspaper, seeing her son finally entering the dining room, dressed in his military like uniform but in colors of white and gold. She sat on one of the chairs of the dining table, a breakfast already made by yours truly—pancakes and bacon and of course, two cups of steaming black coffee.

[Y/n]'s eyes lit up when she saw her son, “Good morning Xavier, did you sleep well?” she asked with a small smile, watching as the boy sat next to her. Xavier gave his mother a close eyed smile.

“Good morning to you too, mother. You look very beautiful this morning.” he says softly, closing his eyes as he felt his mother's hand ruffle his hair, playfully groaning. “Hey! I just brushed my hair.” Xavier says with a small pout and [y/n] chuckles and places a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead.

“I couldn't help it, my boy is just the sweetest.” [y/n] says and Xavier blushes softly and just chuckles.

“It is because I have the most amazing mother in the whole world, that's why.” he says.

[Y/n] smiled at him, “Oh, you... Aren't you just the sweetest?” she giggled and he just chuckled.

The two made a sign of the cross, praying to say thank you for the blessings they have received. Finishing the prayer, the two finally ate breakfast.

“So you're going to be training with your uncle today?” [y/n] asked, looking at the young man beside her. Xavier nodded, he would be training with Uncle Michael today.

“Yes, mother. I am hoping he can help me improve on how to fight.” He says with a small smile and [y/n] squished the young man's cheek, the latter pouting.

“I know you'll do great, you make me so proud.” [y/n] says softly and Xavier had to try so hard not to cry. He loves it when he makes her happy, his mom deserves the whole world after all.

“Thanks, mom.” he says softly and her eyes soften and they continue to eat breakfast.

After breakfast, Xavier helped his mother clean up the table and offered to wash the dishes. [Y/n] wanted to insist on doing it as she feared it would dirty his suit but the boy insisted. He just rolled up the sleeves and wore an apron.

When he was done doing his morning routine, he walked to the living room to see his mom already dressed for work. His eyes saddened, he won't be seeing her for a couple of days again.

Walking towards his mother, the older woman hugged her son. “Don't miss me too much, dearie.” [y/n] says with a giggle. Her hand rubbing circles on the boy's back.

“I'll try not to. I'm just worried.” Xavier says softly, he doesn't like it when she leaves to go to the mortal realm. He worries for her physically and mentally. Humans, human way of living is very... Mentally unhealthy and he fears it will affect his mother too.

[Y/n] smiled softly, patting the boys light blond hair. “Do not worry about me, Azrael would be there to protect me if needed.” she says with a smile.

With the mention of the angel of death, Xavier sees the older man like a father figure. The man has always been present in his life.

Xavier smiled and nodded, “Alright.”

[Y/n] smiles, “Good luck with training, don't overwork okay? Summon me if you must.” she says sternly as the two finally let go of the hug, her hand was placed on her waist.

Xavier nodded, “I promise and I will make you proud.”

[Y/n] grins, “That's my boy,” she says and snapped her fingers and a portal appeared, “Goodluck kiddo, I'll see you in a few days.” she says softly and places a kiss on his forehead before going inside the portal. The portal closes.

Taking one last look of himself on the mirror, the face of his biological father staring back at him. Xavier rolls his eyes and scoffed. Unrolling his sleeves, adjusting his collar. Unfurling his large and majestic white wings. It's time to train, he promised to become one of heaven's protector and he promised he'll rise the ranks and join his mother.

Training with his uncle went by smoothly, he did lost but at least he learned something. Xavier was flying around heaven, wanting to return home but his eyes landed on a familiar seraphim. Emily, his heart started to beat faster. He always liked the girl, the girl is pretty and kind, okay?

His eyes landed on the person wearing such bright red suit. An eyesore, really. A pop of color in heaven.

Xavier tilted his head and decided to approach the girls.

Emily jumped slightly in surprise, seeing the beautiful and handsome and nonchalant looking young general that is her friend landed beside her gracefully.

Yes, Xavier puts up a front in public. He doesn't want others to know he's a total Mama's boy.

Xavier nodded and gave Emily a gentle smile, “Greetings, Emily. Off to showing off a new soul around?” he asked, voice gentle and calm.

Emily grinned and blushed slightly, nodding. “Not exactly a new resident, just a visitor.” Emily explained and Xavier turned to look at this supposed visitor and he could feel himself freeze slightly.

Who wouldn't freeze when seeing the same face as you but in the opposite gender.

“Xavier, this is Charlotte Morningstar...” Emily says hesitantly, now remembering who's the biological father of the boy.

Xavier's eyes narrowed but was quickly replaced as he gave the new girl a closed eyed smile, a forced one. “Really? So that makes you my half sister then?” Xavier says with a grin and Charlie's whole being froze.

Emily looked at the two nervously, she knows Xavier isn't violent but she does know how the boy hates his biological father to the core.

“... Half sister...?” Charlie asked, her voice in disbelief.

“Indeed! We share the same father. It is a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.” Xavier says with a grin but his eyes dull, no longer have the usual shine on them. Charlie was nervous, she doesn't know how to act around the boy. She knows he isn't lying because the boy literally looks like her father.

“How rude of me,” Xavier says with a small gasp, “Let me properly introduce myself, I am Xavier Caeles. Son of [y/n] Caeles. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear sister.” he says with a smirk, looking down on the girl (literally because he's taller than her, a trait he is thankful that he inherited from his mother. Good Lord, he would be miserable if he had his father's height), offering his hand for a handshake which the girl hesitantly and nervously returned.

“It is nice to meet you too... Xavier..” she says and Xavier grins, Emily just looked at the two nervously. Thanking that a fight nor an argument haven't started yet.

“It was a pleasure meeting you but I must go, I still have far more important matters to attend to. Emily, I'll catch up to you later.” Xavier says with a small smile, turning his back from the two girls.

Before he flies away, he stopped. Not bothering to look at his half sister, “Tell our dear father I said hi, okay? Farewell.” he says, not a single emotion in his voice. He quickly spreads his wings and flew off.

“Stars... I didn't expect to see my half sister today..” Xavier murmurs to himself as he flies back home.

Meanwhile, Charlie stood in disbelief next to Emily. Turning around to look at the Seraphim, “Was he really my...?” Charlie asked hesitantly and Emily nodded with a small sad smile, “Yes but it's not my story to tell.” Emily explained softly and Charlie nodded.

“Let us just continue showing you around, yeah?” Emily says softly and the princess of hell nodded.

Emily knows that Xavier's interest has been piqued. She knows he'll be there during the meeting now that he knows his half sister is going to be there.

End Notes: I forgot to mention, reader's work clothes are the same as Arlecchino from Genshin Impact wears.

Taglist:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @cadelinhadochoso

[luvsupa]

tags: chef!geto x married!reader, cheating (don’t do this guys), naoya is readers husband, food play(ish), geto has tattoos + purple eyes, smut (kinda), mdni,

w.c: 1.9k

+ finally this is out of my drafts 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve hired a new chef.” your husband, naoya, announces coldly from the other end of the long, polished dining table. the sharp clink of cutlery echoes through the grand dining room as you both eat the meal your private chefs had meticulously prepared—medium rare wagyu steak with truffle mashed potatoes and buttered asparagus, the kind of meal that screams luxury. but his voice grates on you, cutting through your attempt to enjoy the evening.

you grip your knife tightly, scraping it against your plate in irritation, barely tasting the food. naoya’s eyes finally flick up from his plate, narrowing as he notices your silence. his leg bounces under the table, the tension radiating off him as he grows impatient with you ignoring him. 

“i’m speaking to you, woman,” he snaps through gritted teeth, barely holding back his annoyance.

you drop your utensils with a clatter, meeting his icy gaze. “and i’m listening. another chef, huh? what is this, the eighth or ninth employee you’ve hired just to fuck behind my back?”

naoya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. his tongue rolls against his cheek, a clear sign that you’ve struck a nerve. but instead of shame, he’s amused.

“whatever happens between me and my staff is none of your concern,” he says smoothly, his arrogance on full display. “and this time, i’ve hired a male chef. try not to spread your legs for him the way you do for everyone else.”

the words sting, but they’re nothing new. his chuckle follows as he tosses his dirty napkin onto his half-eaten plate and stands, casually loosening his tie from his work suit. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he walks out of the dining room, leaving you with the hollow clink of his footsteps fading in the distance.

you stare down at your left hand weighed down by stacks and stacks of luxurious jewelry—gifts from naoya, from a time when he at least pretended to love you. the massive diamond on your ring finger feels heavy, a cruel reminder of the life you thought you’d have. a life where you were cherished, not ignored and humiliated.

but that was before the affairs. before he cheated on you with everyone from his secretaries to the maids. you’ve tried to leave him more than once, but his connections, his power—he’s made it clear he’ll destroy you if you ever walk away. 

and so you stay, trapped in this gilded cage.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you wake up tangled in silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against your skin. you turn to the clock on the nightstand—9:40 a.m. naoya is already gone, no doubt having left hours earlier for work. good, you think. it’s better that way. waking up to his smug face would only ruin your morning.

slipping into your soft slippers, you wrap yourself in a sheer lilac robe, its light fabric brushing against your bare skin as you make your way to the bathroom. after freshening up, you take extra care with your skincare routine and hair, making sure you look more presentable than you did when you woke up.

the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries and pancakes floats through the air as you descend the grand, floating staircase—something you’d begged naoya to have built when you first moved in.

you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see one of the female chefs who probably has a history with your husband. but instead, you freeze mid-greeting.

“good morning, rina—oh…” your words trail off as your eyes land on a tall, muscular man in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with an ease that seems almost hypnotic. his back is turned to you, but you can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders stretch the black tank top—no, wife beater—that clings to his frame. you can see the muscles in his arms flex with each movement, glistening in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. his long, dark hair is tied up in a neat bun, and his discarded chef’s jacket hangs over the back of a chair.

he turns at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his lips, and you’re suddenly struck by how impossibly handsome he is. it’s not just his looks—it’s his presence. confident and utterly intoxicating. your mouth goes dry as you try not to ogle him, but it’s impossible. fuck, he looks good.

“ah, good morning, mrs. zenin. apologies for the late breakfast,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, and you have to lean more into the wall for support.

you quickly correct him by letting him no the preferred name rather than naoya’s evil surname. “a-and, there’s no need to be so formal…?,” you drag on for his chance to introduce himself.

“such a beautiful name,” he compliments, sending a shiver down your spine. you feel like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time. “i’m geto suguru.”

suguru. you roll the name over in your mind,

“do… do you need any help, suguru?” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper. you step closer to him, drawn in by his presence. his cologne is subtle, but it clogs your mind, intoxicating you as you catch the scent of sandalwood and something dark and sensual.

he looks down at you, smirking at your shy demeanor. “you wanna help, pretty?” his eyebrow quirks as he motions you to join him, and you nod, as the petname made you all happy.

he motions you to move to his other side but as you follow- your gaze catches something else—tattoos. a full sleeve, intricate designs snaking up his toned arm. your mouth goes dry again as your eyes linger, tracing the ink and the way it contrasts against his skin.

he notices, of course, and chuckles. “got these during a… phase. not really proud of it,” he admits casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“i think they’re attractive,” you say softly, barely able to look him in the eye as you flirt back.

his smirk widens, and he turns back to the stove, pouring a decent amount of pancake batter onto the pan. the butter sizzles, filling the air with the rich, delicious scent of breakfast. “i think you’re attractive,” he murmurs, “shame you’re already married.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, a reminder of naoya, of the life you’re stuck in. your smile falters, and geto notices, his sharp eyes catching every little reaction.

“is that whipped cream?” you ask quickly, desperate to change the subject, trying to pull yourself together.

“just finished,” he replies, turning down the heat on the jam. his voice is low, smooth, teasing. “wanna taste?”

you nod, unable to resist the pull of his presence. geto steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he dips his finger into the whipped cream. slowly, he brings it to his mouth. his lips part, his tongue gliding over his finger as he sucks the cream off, savouring it with a soft, sensual hum. his eyes flutter shut, and the moment feels intimate—too intimate.

your lips part slightly, unable to look away from the sight of him. his finger glistens as he pulls it from his mouth, the motion slow, deliberate, teasing you without a single word. he dips back into the bowl, scooping up a thick, generous glob of cream, his eyes darkening with desire.

“say ahh, baby,” he whispers, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl, holding his finger near your lips.

your breath catches, your glossed lips parting eagerly as you wait for him to feed you, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he’s looking at you. but instead, his hand accidentally slips, the cold cream falling between your breasts, slowly trickling down your cleavage.

you gasp at the shock of it, the cold against your heated skin sending a shiver through you.

“oh… i’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the wicked smirk curling at his lips tells you he’s anything but. “mah i clean that up?” he politely asks as you mutter out a soft, yes, as he smirks.

before you can fully process anything, his large hands are on you, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. your breath hitches as your robe falls open slightly, the flimsy material slipping down your shoulders, baring more of your chest. geto positions himself between your legs, his gaze locked on your cleavage, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

you tremble above him, his body so close, the heat of him making you dizzy. he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers slowly push more of the fabric of your robe, exposing the thin top beneath. his eyes darken with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

with agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his long tongue sliding up the valley between your breasts, collecting the cream in long, deliberate licks. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure through you, and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips. he moves up to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving hot, wet kisses. fuck, you didn’t realize how touch deprived you were until now- especially being in his presence is making your cunt quiver.

his hands glide up your body, one gripping your waist while the other cups your breast. your eyes flutter at the intensity as your breathing quickens as he kneads your breast through the thin fabric of your top. you let out a broken moan as he sucks harder at your neck while simultaneously pinching and twisting your erect nipples between his experienced fingers as his tongue continues its sinful path along your throat. and oh, the sweet melodies of your moans escaping your mouth does something to geto. he feels his work pants get tighter and tighter the more you let out your moans. fuckk he thinks it’s beyond pathetic how something so minimal is making him this hard.

“m-more,” you plead breathlessly, your voice a desperate whisper.

geto chuckles against your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “does your husband even know how fucking needy you are?” he taunts, his voice thick with amusement. his fingers pinch your nipple harder, drawing a gasp from you. “how much you crave this? how desperate you are to be touched like this?”

you shake your head, unable to form words, your body arching into his touch, wanting everything he can give. but just when you think he’s about to give in to your pleas, he pulls back, his heat leaving you suddenly cold as he turns his attention back to the stove, his movements casual as if nothing had just happened.

your eyes fly open in disbelief, your body still trembling, aching for him. he flips the pancakes calmly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as though you hadn’t just been begging him for more.

“i-i didn’t get a taste,” you whine softly, your voice thick with need, still perched on the counter, your legs open, desperate for him.

he glances back at you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he finishes preparing you your breakfast as he turns around, hands you a beautifully plated dish of pancakes, the whipped cream and fresh jam. “i don’t want the food- i want you,” you whine as he places the food beside you.

“you can’t always get what you want, spoiled brat.” you huff in frustration, your body still burning for him, but before you can say a word, he leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“maybe i’ll let you have more when you learn some manners, hmm?” 

[p0orbaby]

As We Plunge into the Ocean

summary: snapshots of your pregnancy journey with leah by your side

warnings: pregnancy and its potential symptoms, duh !

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.8k

-

You have to hand it to Leah, she's really leaned into this whole pregnancy thing. Not that you’re surprised. She’s always been a bit of a control freak. Actually, no, she’s a lot of a control freak. But now, it’s like she’s running drills for motherhood, and you’re the center of her training program.

Month 2: The Overprotective Phase Begins

“You’re glowing,” she tells you one morning. It’s sweet until you deduce she’s actually staring at the sweat on your upper lip. You’re clammy, nauseous, and you smell like day-old toast, but sure, you’re glowing.

Leah’s taken to hovering. She’s always been protective, but now, it’s like you’re made of glass, or maybe like you’re the last good avocado in Waitrose—precious and prone to bruising. She watches you closely, eyes narrowed, as if you might spontaneously combust into a pile of hormones and ash at any moment.

“You’re going to be late for training,” you remind her, trying to shoo her out the door with your tea bag as if you’re some sort of British Gandalf.

She glances at her watch, sighs, and then gives you that look. The one that says, I’m going to worry about you while I’m gone, so don’t do anything stupid like trip over air or suddenly decide to juggle knives.

“Don’t lift anything heavy,” she warns, pulling on her jacket, but making no move toward the door. “Or stand on anything taller than a pancake”

Close enough.

“Okay, Mum,” you say, deadpan. You’re both amused and slightly exasperated because Leah’s version of protective involves a lot of hovering and unnecessary life advice.

She kisses you on the forehead before leaving, like she’s blessing you for the day ahead. Or maybe she thinks you’ll forget how to breathe without her around. Either way, it’s oddly comforting.

When she finally leaves, you flop on the sofa, determined to enjoy the fleeting freedom before she comes home and starts fluffing your pillows like you’re an elderly Victorian woman with consumption.

-

Month 4: The Hormone-Palooza

Leah walks in from training one afternoon to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, crying over an empty jar of pickled onions. To be fair, they were really good onions. You’d eaten the last one two hours ago, and now the world feels like a cruel, onion-less void.

“What happened?” Leah asks, dropping her kit bag and rushing over like there’s been a national emergency.

“The pickled onions,” you sob, pointing dramatically at the empty jar as if it’s committed some unspeakable crime.

She stares at the jar, then at you, and you can see the mental maths she’s doing to figure out if this is worth her calling 999. But then she just nods, like she’s made peace with your hormonal breakdowns.

“I’ll get more tomorrow,” she says, like she’s promising to fetch water from a well three villages over.

You look up at her, eyes wide and wet. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. And I’ll get the sliced red ones this time”

You sniff, feeling vaguely stupid but mostly just grateful. “You’re the best”

“I know,” she says, deadpan, and helps you off the floor like you’re a drunk at a party who just tried to wrestle your reflection in the mirror.

But Leah doesn’t make fun of you for your hormone-fueled tears. She’s too busy making sure you’re okay, which is annoying and endearing in equal measure.

-

Month 6: The Nesting Madness

You wake up one morning to the sound of power tools. In your half-asleep state, you briefly consider the possibility that Leah’s decided to open a B&Q in your living room.

When you manage to roll out of bed, because rolling is now the only way you can get up, you find Leah assembling a cot in the nursery. She’s wearing a headlamp like she’s about to go spelunking. Her tongue is sticking out in concentration, and there’s a distinct air of “I watched this on YouTube once, so I’m basically an expert” about her.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

She pauses, mid-screw, and gives you a look. “I’m following the instructions,” she says defensively, even though the manual is open to a page that looks more like IKEA hieroglyphics than anything else.

You decide not to mention that the cot is currently upside down. Instead, you settle in to watch Leah’s one-woman DIY show. It’s honestly better than whatever’s on terrestrial right now.

After a good twenty minutes, she steps back, admiring her work. You both stare at the crib, which is somehow missing two legs but is otherwise a valiant effort.

“It’s... something,” you say diplomatically.

Leah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’ll call my dad”

You nod. “Good idea. He’s got that handyman vibe”

She gives you a mock glare. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t help”

“I’m in charge of moral support,” you reply, patting your stomach. “And the baby’s supervising”

“Lazy,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

-

Month 8: The Belly and the Beast

By this point, your belly is so big that it has its own gravitational pull. Leah has taken to treating it like it’s a small planet she needs to orbit. You’re the sun, and she’s some overzealous moon that won’t give you any space.

“Do you need anything?” she asks for the fiftieth time that day, hovering like a helicopter parent who’s misplaced their child in a crowd.

“No,” you reply, staring at the TV, which you can barely see over your stomach.

“How about water? I could get you water. Or juice. Or something with electrolytes. Do you want electrolytes?” Leah’s pacing now, clearly itching to do something.

You eye her, bemused. “I’m fine, Leah”

“Are you sure? I could fluff your pillow, or I could—”

“Leah,” you interrupt, trying to keep a straight face, “the baby and I are okay. You don’t need to, like, feng shui the living room or whatever”

She stops pacing, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m just... I don’t know what to do with myself”

You reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to sit next to you. “You’re doing great,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “Now, just relax. Let’s watch something. Maybe something without pregnant women, though. I can’t deal with seeing anyone else going through this”

Leah laughs, finally settling in next to you. “Deal”

Five minutes into the show, she’s already got a hand on your belly, her protective instincts kicking in even during a Netflix binge. You roll your eyes fondly but let her be. At least she’s not trying to rearrange the furniture again.

-

Month 9: The Home Stretch (Or, The Last Nerve)

Leah is a bundle of nerves, more wound up than a cat near a cucumber. It’s almost cute, except when she insists on triple-checking the hospital bag, which she’s already checked twice in the last hour.

“Leah, seriously, if you add one more onesie to that bag, it’s going to explode”

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” she mutters, rummaging through the bag as if it’s one of those cursed Hermione purses from Harry Potter.

“We have everything. And then some,” you assure her, eyeing the ludicrous pile of baby supplies that could probably last through an apocalypse.

She finally zips up the bag and sits down next to you. For a moment, there’s silence, and you think maybe, just maybe, she’s finally going to relax. But no. She starts tapping her foot, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Do you think—”

“No,” you cut her off, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But—”

“Leah,” you say firmly, “I love you, but if you ask me if I think the baby’s coming today one more time, I might actually lose it”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking like she’s physically restraining herself from speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, sighing. “I’m just... I’m excited and nervous and I feel like I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but the bomb is cute and we’re going to love it and—”

“Leah,” you interrupt again, “you’re doing amazing. But you need to chill, or the baby’s going to think it’s coming out to meet a drill sergeant”

She cracks a smile at that. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to relax”

She doesn’t. But she does stop asking you if you’re in labor every fifteen minutes, so you’ll take that as a win.

-

The Grand Finale: The Delivery Room Circus

The day finally arrives. Naturally, it’s at three in the morning because why would your body ever do anything convenient? You wake Leah up by shaking her arm like you’re waking a teenager for school.

“Leah,” you say, trying to stay calm even though your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals. “It’s time”

She’s up in an instant, wide awake like she’s just heard the starting whistle at the World Cup final. She starts pacing, half-dressed, muttering about the hospital bag.

“We need to go, we need to—oh my god, where are the keys? Do we have the car seat? Should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we’re not calling an ambulance, that’s for emergencies, this is an emergency, but not that kind of emergency—”

You grab her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Leah, breathe. We’ve got time. But we do need to go”

She takes a deep breath, nodding like she’s trying to calm down a very excitable puppy. Then she’s off, running around the house like it’s an obstacle course, grabbing everything and nothing at once. You watch her in bemusement, one hand on your belly, wondering if you should tell her that she’s just thrown her shoe into the fridge.

When she finally gets it together, the drive to the hospital is an adventure in itself. Leah’s driving like she’s on her way to rob a bank, weaving through traffic and swearing under her breath at every red light.

“Leah, the baby’s not going to fall out if we don’t get there in ten minutes,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as she mutters something about the stupidly long red lights.

Finally, you make it to the hospital, where Leah practically drags you to the entrance like a deflated balloon on a string. Once inside, she’s all business, directing the nurses like she’s running a tactical operation.

The actual labour is a blur—hours of pain, and sweat, and Leah alternating between holding your hand and looking like she might faint. But she doesn’t faint. She stays with you the whole time, even when you scream at her that she’s never allowed to touch you again.

When the baby finally arrives, Leah’s expression is one of awe, relief, and sheer, overwhelming love. You’re both exhausted, but when you see her holding your baby, all of her earlier madness makes sense.

She was never just overprotective or anxious. She was just ready—ready to love, ready to care, and maybe, just maybe, ready to stop checking that bloody hospital bag.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But you love her anyway.

[chaosandmarigolds]

You grumble awake to the loud booming sound of ‘Cruel Summer’ blasting on the home speakers of your home, and with half a mind to just lay there and and wallow in your once peaceful slumber you were met with the song being quickly changed to ‘Tik Tok’ by Kesha. Okay…now you had go downstairs and see what was going on.

As you expected there stood your husband and your seven year old, both equally messy from pancake batter- the girl standing on the counter while using a batter covered spoon as a microphone. Meanwhile your husband entertained her by is own very dramatic rendition of the song.

it all halted when they saw you on the stairs, “Hi, mom. Did we-“

“mmhm.”

to that your husband interjected by grabbing a mug, “Got your coffee ready, love.”

That was a good diversion, you had to admit, so you hold the mug and then hum, “Smart boy, solider.”

“The smartest,” he gave a smile, “Want some pancakes?”

“If you want to see the night, I suggest you get on it- which chocolate chips, please.”

He nods, taking the snarky reply as honesty, “Yes, Ma’am. Alright Abs! Ya heard the dictator.” He turns to face the girl, who then stood at attention, “Two chocolate chip pancakes, stat!”

Needless to say your pancakes were ready by the time ‘Hot ‘n Cold’ by Katy Perry was playing.

(…uh cute stuff? Comments and feedback truly mean the world to me! Toodles!)

[obaex]

☼ obx summer reading list ☼

˗ˏˋ it's summertime, cuties! ´ˎ˗ the perfect time to get lost in the most lovely book, or fic! there is so much amazing talent in this fandom, and i wanted to shine a light on it!

i asked my beautiful mutuals and a couple of my favorite writers (#fangirling) to share (1) the favorite fic they'd ever written (2) the favorite fic they'd ever read, et voila, our list!

i hope you get out in the sunshine, dig your toes into the sand, sit near water and enjoy!!

writer's own favorites

@jjsbank444 ╰┈➤when summer ends (jj maybank) @mvybanks ╰┈➤safety net (hockeyplayer!jj maybank) (18+)

@forevermoreharrington ╰┈➤ you belong with me (rafe cameron)

@hotchsstuff ╰┈➤ sweets (rafe cameron)

@anqeliclust ╰┈➤ darkness, my old friend (rafe cameron) (18+)

@lovelornanonymity ╰┈➤ convalescence (rafe cameron)

@oceandriveab ╰┈➤ pink sundress (rafe cameron) (18+)

@winterrrnight ╰┈➤ secret admirer (rafe cameron)

@maybankslover ╰┈➤ i think i found the love of my life (rafe cameron)

@runningfrom2am ╰┈➤ no drinks, no pools, no molly (rafe cameron)

@outerbankspov ╰┈➤ trouble in paradise (rafe cameron) (18+)

@rafescurtainbangz ╰┈➤ sharing (rafe cameron) (18+)

@princessbrunette ╰┈➤ never lose me (rafe cameron) (18+)

@rafestar ╰┈➤ high for this (rafe cameron) (18+)

@totalswag ╰┈➤ dinner and sunsets (dad!drew starkey)

@ruewrote ╰┈➤ the little things (jj maybank)

@rafeysbafey ╰┈➤ burnt pancakes (jj maybank)

@rubiehart ╰┈➤ c***warming bsf!jj maybank (18+)

@rafesapologist ╰┈➤the set up (rafe cameron) (18+)

@lovelyjj ╰┈➤ good morning sunshine (jj maybank)

@softspiderling ╰┈➤ god, it's brutal out here (rafe cameron)

@mrsstarkey1 ╰┈➤ initial (rafe cameron)

@erwinsvow

╰┈➤ got what you wanted (rafe cameron) (18+)

@obaex ╰┈➤ you, the ocean & me (jj maybank)

writer's recommendations

rafe cameron

silent love by @luxestarkey how to be a heartbreaker by @matthewtkachuk smartwatch not my girl the blind date by @obaex the deal (18+) peer pressure by @mvybanks (18+) shades of cool by @singmyaubade (18+) cruel summer by @forevermoreharrington sharing by @rafescurtainbangz (18+) camboy by @rafeandonlyrafe (18+) home before dark by @nadvs (18+) indifference by @xveenusx ambivalence by @mackenzielovee new light by @outerbankies (18+) secret admirer by @winterrrnight sunburnt by @twinklelilstarkey (18+) fair play by @laiiaaa so we won't forget by @netegf (18+) achilles heel by @runningfrom2am against all odds by @jjsbank444 blue by @hibiscusol

jj maybank

in between by @moremaybank (18+) safety net by @mvybanks (18+) when summer ends by @jjsbank444 banana pancakes by @https-florals (18+) guilty by @xveenusx i know soul deep by @kindapinkskies

jj maybank + rafe cameron

amnesiac by @cherienymphe (18+) that girl by @hanasnx heaven by @nottsangel (18+)

[theemporium]

💛 you ordered a you're mai tai! when the pining gets too much, choose a prompt and manifest that special moment with the boyfriend of your choice!

can i ask prompt 10 with carlos sainz? please and thank u!! congrats on your 10k, cece!! 🥹💞

— 🎨

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

10. spooning at night

.

“You said one more chapter.” 

“Yeah, one more after this one.” 

“That’s cheating.” 

“It’s a good book!” 

Carlos let out an exaggerated groan, his face squished against his pillow as he looked up at you with narrowed eyes. His frown only deepened when he watched the way you were trying to bite back your smile, like you knew very well how much you were winding him up. 

He wasn’t a very demanding man, very far from it. There was a few small things that Carlos was very particular about and he very rarely tended to stray away from them. He always made his pancakes the exact same way. He always liked to be the person behind the wheel, regardless of how long the drive was. He liked to have the right side of the bed, whether it was at home or in a hotel room. 

And he liked to fall asleep with you in his arms. 

It was something you picked up pretty early on in the relationship. The boy couldn’t just fall asleep unless you were curled up beside him. He tended to keep himself awake, sabotaging any extra sleep he could possibly get, knowing full well it would be shit anyways if he was lying in bed alone.

Even now, he could have very easily turned the lamp on his side off and curled up under the duvet, out like a light in a couple of minutes. But you were in bed right next to him, leaning back against the headboard with a book in hand and he physically couldn’t bring himself to sleep until you were lying down with him.

“This is cruel,” he huffed, biting back the yawn he so desperately wanted to let out. 

“You’re dramatic,” you countered, but you finally gave in as you marked your page and placed your book down on your bedside table. You pulled the duvet up, slipping under and laughing at the smile growing on your boyfriend’s face as he instantly started to gravitate towards you. 

“Finally,” he grumbled under his breath as he wound his arm around your stomach and tugged you back into his chest. He settled behind you, your bodies sliding together perfectly as he finally felt his body relax against the mattress. “See. Better.” 

“Your own personal teddy,” you joked, though you could already feel your eyes starting to grow heavy as you spoke. 

“No, just the love of my life,” Carlos murmured, his face tucked against you as he began to doze off. “Mi amor.” 

And you couldn’t fight the smile twitching on your lips before you dozed off too, the warmth of his body settled against yours easily lulling you to sleep.

.

[spectator-moon]

HEADCANONS ABOUT THE BAD KIDS

Kristen has Asthma. No doctors can figure out where it came from, because it's not genetic, but she remembers a dark forest, a temple, and a horn spearing through her lungs, and she just knows. She asks Cassandra to fix it, and Cassandra tells her that it cannot be done. She keeps an inhaler on her at all times, and when she breathes too deeply, she can still feel the horn piercing her.

Fig, through a combination of tiefling blood and her own decisions, sounds like somebody who's been smoking all their life. When she was younger, it just sounded like a raspy throat, but now that she's older, it's that sultry, sort-of attractive rasp. Ayda says that she sounds sick, and it takes a few minutes of explaining before Ayda understands. Fig always teases Ayda with her most sultry, raspy voice, and laughs when Ayda's hair poofs upwards.

Adaine tried pancakes for the first time when Kristen made them and now they're her favourite breakfast food. Her favourite toppings are whipped cream, fruit, and syrup. She doesn't say that every time she eats them, they trigger sensations of eating at a cold table with cruel people. She doesn't say that she sees a time where she will eat pancakes alone, and cry with the wish to eat them with Kristen again. She does not say a great many things.

Gorgug, through no fault of his parents, in almost unhealthily skinny. It's incredibly hard to find books on Orcish physiology, and Thelma and Digby tried their best to keep up, but it wasn't meeting the required amount of calories. Now that they know (Gorgug's bio dad gave them a book), they feed him much more, but he's always hungry. He feels bad for it, and sometimes even flat out refuses the food, feeling like it's a waste.

Fabian has dissociative episodes where he falls back into the fear that nobody remembers him. He sometimes can't even remember himself. He pretends to be fine, and then you're calling his name loud enough for the Hangvan to hear it outside and he doesn't respond. He sometimes slips into old habits of not being able to move from his bed, and when he does, all the Bad Kids visit him until he can get out. They never rush him, and sometimes it turns into a slumber party.

Riz has night terrors. When he does sleep, which is rare in and of itself, he wakes up. When it's a good night, without screaming. He'll wake up in a cold sweat, unable to move for minutes or hours, but he won't scream. When it's a bad night, he will wake up screaming loud enough to reach the lowest floor of Strongtower luxury apartments, and he won't know where he is. He has hurt his mom, and his friends, and when he comes out of the haze of pure fear with sobbing noises that sound like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

Anyways, what are y'alls headcanons?

[arminsumi]

Sleepyhead — 五夏

NOTE: idk if writing this made me sadder or was therapeutic either way let's cry together :')

SUMMARY — During your youth, you, Geto and Gojo made a magic charm that would reconnect the three of you in a different reality one day by a golden silk thread.

WARNINGS — not proofread, "just a dream" trope but really u just shifted realities and forgot your other life, angst, implied death / crossing over, based on the latest chapter bc i'm in pain and when i'm in pain i write 👍 sooo just in case: jjk manga spoilers (major char death, chapter 236)

Gojo caressed your cheek and muttered " You're such a pretty crier, but don't cry for me. Sh, I'm right here, baby, I'm right here. ", keeping his other hand intertwined with yours.

. . .

Your two eyes blinking out of a dream, coming back to reality. Or was it the other way around? Maybe you were awaking into a lucid dream.

At first it's a white space. A void. There's nothing but neutrality and emptiness. Then a golden silk thread is sewn across your chest. It leads down a corridor of white, one that stretches so far it almost feels like you're taking an infinite walk.

There's a door at the end, you open it. And all there is behind it is your old classroom, just as it was. There's Gojo Satoru, smiling that wide toothy smile like nothing in the world is wrong. And there's Geto Suguru, shaking his head and sighing a laugh over his best friend's ridiculousness. And there's Shoko Ieiri, peering over her folded arms as she rests her chin on the desk sleepily.

Walking obliviously into this memory while the real world continues on outside, you completely detach from reality and cross over. Why is it this memory ? It was such an ordinary day.

But it wasn't an ordinary day, you're mistaken; that day you wove a golden silk thread and imbued it with something, magic is a good word but no — it was an otherworldly "magic", something that's not sorcery.

You drift through this classroom memory, Gojo says hello and Geto smiles. Before you realize, you're floating past the exit door and enter another room — another memory.

It's then that you realize you're just drifting along the silk thread, hopping across each memory that you wove into it; their purpose to carry you over into another reality entirely.

More memories. More. And then some more. You're travelling through them, looking at them as if through a dream lens, half-detached, in a state of limbo. Not between life and death, but between realities where you're alive.

Maybe it was cruel.

The three of you leaving the world behind, shifting into different realities at your death, just so you could be happy and peaceful.

Final memories roll by, and you shift over; and in an instant, that whole journey seeps out of your mind.

You wake up just like any other day. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Gojo is crushing you with his weight, forcing you to blink awake and mumble groggily.

That was a long dream.

" Wakey wakey, sleepyhead — full body attack ! Okay, seriously, wake up. I want breakfast and I can't eat it unless you're with me. You know that. Why are you crying ? Did you have a nightmare ? Oh really ? What was it about ? "

Gojo follows you like a puppy throughout your morning routine. Though really, it feels like a mourning routine this time. Your chest feels so heavy, and you keep hugging him as if you haven't seen him in years.

" Hey, Suguru listen to Y/n's fucked up dream. It's insane, like a manga plot or some shit. Wish I had dreams of that. You should write it. "

" Oh ? Do tell. I'm curious. Aw, why the hug ? Y/n ? You okay ? Come on, let's make some pancakes. "

You watch the two of them in this ordinary habitat; Gojo lazing at the kitchen doorframe, talking about the awful ending to his favorite story.

" Y/n, you're zoning out. "

" Are you crying ?! "

" Sorry. I just missed you guys. I don't know why. "

" But we saw each other yesterday. We spent the whole night together. It was my birthday. "

" Yeah, and that's what's freaky; I feel like I just travelled for years. It feels surreal to look at the two of you. "

" Don't cry, come here. Satoru, take care of the pancake it's gonna burn. Y/n, wanna talk about it ? "

" No, I just want to hug you two. "

" GROUP HUG. "

" Satoru you're suffocating her. "

" Good group hugs are suffocating ! "

You stay with them in a long group hug. Everything feels alright.

" . . . the pancake is burning."

Suguru tends to it.

Satoru looks at you. " Cryin' ? Still ? Come here. You're so sensitive. "

He engulfs you in a hug again. Warm, soft, nice-smelling; this is definitely your ordinary reality. What a bizarre dream, though. Truly a bizarre dream.

" So how'd I die in your dream ? " he asks curiously.

" I don't want to talk about it. I just want to cry. " you choke, crying more into his chest. Suguru scolds him from the stove, while he scrapes burnt pancake batter off the pan.

Satoru looks down at you, cupping your one cheek, and says something that you swear you've heard before.

" Such a pretty crier. But don't cry for me. Sh, I'm right here, baby, I'm right here. "

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[disneyprincemuke]

it was only a kiss * fem!driver

it's just a kiss. surely, it isn't that big of a deal, right?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: LOL i'll write her race win and post it this week i swear!!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

logan does not know when he started to go against his better judgment. it could have been the shots they were taking with dalton earlier in the evening, or perhaps it was when they locked themselves away in her room to eat the birthday pancakes she had gotten him.

maybe it’s a thing that just consumed him at the moment — the fireworks as the new year came and greeted them was an atmosphere he simply could not resist her in.

because he kissed her– no, he’s kissing her. right now. against all his rationalisation, without warning, without permission. without even thinking about it.

the last thing he remembers is her turning to him with a wide smile wishing him a happy new year and suddenly he was hunched over with their lips locked. everything seems to go slowly now like he was trying to savour the moment and remember the way she tastes for the rest of his life.

he didn’t know how long it took her back to start kissing him back, but she did, eventually. she put her hands on either side of his face and everything else just fell away. logan had never been the type to get so lost in a kiss before. his heart is skipping beats as he tries her damnest to pull her closer to him, as if their bodies are not already pressed up on one another.

suddenly all the things he’s spent the past 3 years worrying about didn’t matter. not one thought about how their friendship is too great to risk it for pops up currently, and definitely nothing about the neverending excuses about their jobs and their places in their lives now.

and it’s nothing less for her. when he bent down and crashed his lips onto hers, suddenly they were the only 2 people in the house. she barely heard the fireworks crack the sky apart or the way dalton looked up from the backyard to greet them, only to raise his eyebrows and giggle to himself as he went away to get more drinks.

nothing matters. just the fact that she and logan are finally kissing. after 9 years of friendship and 3 long years pining over him, this is their first kiss and the first time she’s getting to know his mouth.

it’s devastating — they should have been kissing the moment they realised they had feelings for one another, she thinks. her lips feel so at home against his like it was a match made in heaven.

it just feels so right.

logan doesn’t want to be the one to pull away. he’s been wanting to do this ever since he saw her snuggled in his bed 3 years ago and realised that he no longer saw her as a best friend. and neither does she; the feel of his lips against hers is not one that she wants to forget.

yet, the world is cruel that way.

they pull away at the same time, stumbling back with swollen lips and heaving chests. their eyes are wide, and she blinks rapidly as if she still can’t believe what had just happened.

how long were they kissing? he glances over the balcony and notices that the crowd once gathered for the fireworks has now dispersed into different areas of the backyard.

“i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, sensing the hesitation coming from her. he shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the intensity of the moment they’d just shared. “oh, god. i’m so sorry.”

“i,” she trails off, looking down at her hands. she’s yearned to have this feeling for years; she’s afraid that one sudden move might reveal that it’s just another dream and she’d wake up by herself in her bed. she looks up again with a soft sigh. “logan.”

she says his name and he feels all his defenses crumbling down in an instant. his name only ever sounds good when it rolls off her tongue.

“i don’t know what came over me,” logan starts to explain, still shaking his head. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t–“

she shakes her head and takes a step forward, hands in the air in an attempt to calm him down. “logan. relax.” she takes another step forward with caution and grins very slightly as she takes his hand into hers. “do you wanna go get a drink first?”

truthfully, logan wants to kind of kiss her again. he’d waited this long, held himself back from the urge to want his best friend wholeheartedly only for him to realise that kissing her was just as dreamy as he imagined it would be.

he looks up from the ground when she squeezes his hand. she doesn’t say anything else, but there is something about the way she smiles up at him that compels his brain to quiet down for a minute. he nods and lets her pull him towards the door, he’s assuming to make an appearance at the party downstairs.

but oh, god, someone needs to tell him how to resist the urge to do the same thing again.

so they don’t talk about the kiss all night. instead of actually talking about it, they decided to join the party downstairs and drown themselves in alcohol until the sun rose. you know, doing the one thing they’re actually not foreign to.

even worse when she briefly remembered the way they’ve — at one point or another — said ‘i love you’ to one another while drunk off their minds at least once in the past 3 years.

and instead of talking about it after the party, stumbling back into her guest bedroom, they climbed under the covers and slept instead. next to one another. which wouldn’t be an issue since they’ve slept in the same bed multiple times, but this time was different.

it’s different because they’re tangled in one another with the blankets strewn over their bodies.

all logan can think of after he opens his eyes is how he’s finally where he's wanted to be after years of dancing around the thought of them. he looks down and is immediately enamoured by the way her arm is slung over his body, face nuzzled into the side of his body as her chest rises and falls steadily.

it feels surreal to finally get the girl he wants for a change. but he knows — and he knows that she knows — the reason they kept dancing around the possibility of them, and it’s still gnawing at him annoyingly from the back of his head. he’s tried to ignore it all night but it’s there.

all night, looking across the lawn as she interacted with his family, he found himself wishing things were different.

she moves very slightly, nuzzling her face further into him and stretches an arm out. for a moment, his heart drops at the thought that she would wake up. because that means that this would all be over and all rationalisation would hit her as well once more.

he doesn’t know though that she’d been awake for the better part of the past 15 minutes, frozen in her spot next to him, refusing to let it end. you never know for sure that you’re made for somebody until you fit perfectly along the crevices of their body every single time.

sure, they’ve hugged and shared beds before, but never this way. it’s an eye-opening experience to spend the night with someone innocently and suddenly realise that soulmates may actually exist in one form or another. it’s just upsetting that sometimes they come in the form of a best friend you’ve known for half your life, making it all the more damaging to keep thinking of them as somebody more.

but staying in this position any longer might cause logan to explode. she lifts her head slightly when she felt him rubbing her arm gently, met by a soft smile and she knew that the events of the night before would only bode disaster than anything else.

“you can’t keep avoiding me all day,” a voice follows him down the hall of the second floor of his home, “we’re in the same house for an entire week.”

logan doesn’t respond, just keeps walking further down the hall and down the stairs as if he hadn’t heard her pleas for the last minute.

they didn’t speak of anything either when they got out of bed. only excused themselves to freshen up for breakfast with his family before avoiding one another’s eyes and darting to different parts of the room: her to the toilet and him back to his bedroom.

“hey, what is your problem!” she shrieks. her footsteps echo down the stairs, grabbing logan’s shoulder to turn him around to face her. “you can’t just kiss me and then not say anything! what the fuck, logan!”

he looks up at her, standing two steps above him, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. he can’t possibly be the only one who can clearly see the implications of what transpired, right? “i don’t know what to say to you.”

she throws your head back slightly, blinking at him as she tries raking her brain for a response. what– what the fuck does that even mean? “what?”

logan huffs, lips pursed. “i want you,” he lays it down for her, shocked at the way that it had come out. frustration laces his every word as he speaks, simply because it’s… it’s frustrating to be this close to the person you want but can’t have. “it is as simple and as complicated as that. you know that, come on!”

“it doesn’t have to be.” he tilts his head, shaking his head before he turns around and walks the stairs again. she throws her arms into the air in frustration as she chases him again. “mate!”

“i told you,” logan huffs, turning around at the bottom of the stairs, “i’m sorry that i kissed you. i don’t know what came over me — i did it without thinking. i’ve wanted to kiss you for years, so i’m sorry i couldn’t hold myself back.”

“why are you apologising? did you hit your head and forget that i kissed you back?” she meets him at the bottom step and puts her hands on her hips. she closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, letting it out shakily as she says his name softly.

he shakes his head. “don’t even do that. that’s not fair.”

“don’t do what?”

“don’t do that shakey breath and then say my name whenever you don’t get what you want! this is different — this is not something as superficial as you not getting ice cream when you ask for it!” logan rambles, rolling his eyes. “it’s not the same!”

“then how do you suppose we should deal with this then?” she leans back on the railing of the stairs and raises an eyebrow. “you started the whole mess, i believe you should have an answer.”

“nothing can change. in fact, nothing’s gonna change,” he sighs, suddenly hoping that he can take his words back when she melts in her position and her frown grows. “not for me and you. you already know this, please, don’t be like that.”

she glares up at him, mirroring the frustration he’d been feeling all morning. simply for the fact that she knows logan is right. there are many reasons they pushed their feelings back but being in f1 together is the most prominent one.

“i know.” her voice barely comes out in a whisper, clenching her jaw as she looks away. it shouldn’t have to be this complicated, right?

love shouldn’t be this complicated.

“i just wish it was easier than this,” she admits, dropping her head as tears rush into her eyes. “i thought because we k–“

“me too.” he takes several steps forward, wrapping his arms around her. “but this is our reality. you didn’t work this hard to get where you are just for you to be reduced to the person you’re dating. we’ve had this conversation before 2 years ago.”

she freezes. as far as she’s concerned, he was blackout drunk that night they had the conversation. “you remember that?”

he hums. “‘course, i do.” he rests his chin on her head and starts to rub circles on her back. “i’m sorry it has to be this complicated.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @clemswrld @inejismywife @love4lando