#getting the game just so i can play as him

[pucksandpower]

Critics and Lovers

Max Verstappen x journalist!Reader

Summary: how would the paddock react if they knew that the woman writing scathing critiques about the reigning world champion weekend after weekend was the same woman who whispers sweet nothings in his ear at night?

“Did you really go to school for half a decade to get your journalism degree just to ask if I think I’ll win?”

Max’s voice cuts through the bustle of the press room, drawing the attention of a few journalists milling around with their notebooks and recorders. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his smirk more amused than annoyed. His blue eyes — always so intense under the brim of his cap — lock onto yours, daring you to respond.

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. ��I’m asking the questions the people want answers to, Max. It’s my job, remember?”

“Your job is to provoke me, apparently,” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his smirk widening. “But you know, you could at least pretend to be creative. Ask something that might surprise me for once.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the capacity to be surprised,” you quip, your pen hovering over your notepad as if ready to jot down his response.

Max lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Touché. But if you’re expecting me to give you a soundbite for your next article, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The exchange draws a few chuckles from the nearby journalists, but they quickly refocus on their own tasks, used to the banter between the two of you. After all, it’s no secret that you’re Max Verstappen’s biggest critic.

Week after week, your articles dissect his performances with surgical precision, never shying away from pointing out his flaws, his temper, his moments of questionable judgment. To everyone else, you’re just doing your job, holding one of the sport’s biggest stars accountable. But to Max — well, he seems to take it in stride, brushing off your critiques with the same ease he shows on track.

What no one else knows, though, is that this verbal sparring is just another part of the complicated dance you and Max have been perfecting for years. A dance that begins in front of cameras and microphones, and ends in private, where the lines between your professional rivalry and personal relationship blur into something neither of you can fully define.

“Okay, fine,” you say, pretending to think hard about your next question. “How about this: what’s your plan for today? Any new strategies to surprise us with?”

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s almost worse than your first question. Did you really think that would get me talking?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Maybe if you gave me a straight answer for once, I wouldn’t have to keep asking.”

He leans in closer, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear. “Maybe if you asked me something off the record, I’d actually consider it.”

“Off the record doesn’t sell papers, Max,” you reply, your tone equally low but tinged with something more affectionate, something that would be impossible to miss for anyone paying close attention.

Max’s smirk softens into something more sincere, his eyes flickering with the warmth that you’ve come to associate with the quiet moments you share away from the track, away from the scrutiny of the world.

It’s a look that says he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is. That despite the biting comments and the professional jabs, there’s a mutual understanding between you. A connection that runs deeper than anything either of you would ever admit in public.

But here, in this crowded room filled with reporters who’d kill for the kind of scoop only you could provide, that connection has to stay hidden. Because if anyone ever found out the truth — if they knew that you, the woman who writes those scathing critiques of Max Verstappen, were the same woman who shares his bed at night — it would be the end of both your careers.

And so, the game continues, with both of you playing your parts to perfection.

“Next time, try asking me something interesting,” Max says, his voice returning to its usual volume as he straightens in his chair, signaling the end of your private moment. “Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re getting lazy.”

You give him a look that’s meant to be stern but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lazy? I think you’re confusing me with your performance last weekend.”

The jab earns you a mock glare from Max, but he doesn’t take the bait, instead giving a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll see who’s lazy when I’m on top of the podium later.”

“Confident as ever, I see,” you remark, jotting down a few notes that you know you’ll never actually use.

“Just stating facts,” he says, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself, the ease with which he navigates this world of high stakes and even higher expectations. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, back when neither of you had any idea where this relationship was heading.

“Well, good luck out there,” you say, finally stepping back to let the next reporter have their turn. But as you move away, you catch the briefest flash of something in his eyes — something that tells you he’s not just thinking about the race ahead, but about the conversation you’ll have later, away from prying eyes.

As you find a spot at the back of the room, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance tells you it’s a message from Max, sent under the guise of a work-related email, as usual.

You know I’m going to make you pay for that lazy comment later, right?

You bite back a smile, typing out a quick response.

Promises, promises.

The rest of the press conference goes by in a blur of questions and answers, none of which capture your attention the way Max does. You’re barely listening when the moderator finally wraps things up, and the drivers start to file out.

But before Max can make his exit, he pauses just long enough to catch your eye, giving you a look that’s all too familiar. It’s the same look he gave you the first time you met, back when he was just another driver on the grid and you were the new journalist determined to make a name for yourself. A look that says he’s already planning what he’s going to say to you later, when the cameras are off and the real conversations can begin.

You follow the crowd out of the room, blending in with the other journalists as you make your way toward the paddock. But your thoughts are already drifting to the end of the day, to the moment when you’ll finally be alone with Max, free to drop the pretense and just be yourselves.

Because despite the roles you play in public — the critical journalist and the cocky driver — in private, you’re something else entirely. Something that neither of you can fully explain, but neither of you wants to give up.

“Heading back to the media center?” One of your colleagues asks as you step outside, the midday sun beating down on the paddock.

“Yeah, I’ve got a deadline to meet,” you reply, forcing your mind back to the task at hand. But even as you say it, you know that your thoughts will be elsewhere for the rest of the day. On Max, and the secret you both share. A secret that, for now, is safe.

But how long can it stay that way?

The question lingers in your mind as you head back to your desk, the usual chatter of the paddock fading into the background. You’ve always known that this arrangement couldn’t last forever, that eventually, something would give.

The world of Formula 1 is too small, too tightly knit, for secrets like this to stay buried forever. And when the truth finally comes out — because it’s not a matter of if, but when — you know that everything will change.

But for now, you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the article you need to write. It’s what you’re good at, after all — crafting narratives, shaping stories. And today, the story is about Max, the driver who never fails to surprise you, both on and off the track.

The press room is quieter now, most of the other journalists having moved on to other tasks. You sit down at your laptop, the screen reflecting your determined expression. The cursor blinks at you, waiting. And as you begin to type, the words flow easily, the story taking shape with each keystroke.

It’s a story the world has seen before — another race, another analysis of Max Verstappen’s performance. But underneath it all, there’s a subtext that only you can see, a hidden layer that tells the real story. The one that will never make it to print.

The one that belongs to just you and Max.

Hours pass in a blur, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you lose yourself in the work. It’s almost too easy to write about Max, to analyze his every move, his every decision. You know him better than anyone, after all — better than any other journalist in this room, better than most of the people in his life. It’s a knowledge that comes with a price, though, a price you’re all too aware of.

But as the final paragraph falls into place, you sit back, satisfied. The article is done, the narrative complete. And with it, the day’s work is finally over. You stretch, glancing around the empty press room, and for a moment, you allow yourself to relax. To let go of the role you’ve been playing all day, and just be yourself.

Your phone buzzes again, pulling you back to reality. Another message from Max.

Meet me in the usual place?

You don’t hesitate before typing out a reply.

On my way.

The media center is almost deserted as you make your way out, the soft hum of electronics the only sound filling the room. You slip your laptop into your bag and sling it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as you step into the paddock. The evening air is cooler now, a welcome relief after the day’s heat, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

You walk with purpose, navigating the familiar maze of trailers and motorhomes, heading toward the secluded spot where you and Max often meet. It’s tucked away from the main pathways, a place where no one would think to look for you, and that’s exactly why it works. You reach the spot and pause, taking a deep breath before stepping around the corner.

Max is already there, leaning against the side of a trailer, his cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Took you long enough,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Had to finish that article you’re so eager to read,” you reply, stopping a few feet away from him, just outside the reach of his hands.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a glowing review of my abilities,” he says, pushing off the trailer and closing the distance between you in two strides. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. Here, in this quiet corner of the paddock, the walls come down, and the roles you play for the cameras melt away.

“Glowing might be a stretch,” you say, allowing yourself a small smile as his hand lingers on your waist. “But it’s fair.”

“Fair is good,” he murmurs, leaning in so his forehead rests against yours. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re going easy on me.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, your voice softening. “Or maybe I just think you deserve a break every now and then.”

“From the criticism? Or from you?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Both,” you say, giving him a playful shove, but he doesn’t budge, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

“You know I’d never take a break from you,” he says, his voice low, serious now. His thumb strokes your side, sending a shiver up your spine.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over you. It’s these moments you treasure the most, the ones where it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. Just Max and you, stripped down to the simplest version of yourselves.

“I know,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I’d never let you.”

His smile turns tender, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply, before closing the small gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world you both live in. It’s a reminder of what you have, what you’ve built together despite the odds. And as you kiss him back, you feel a warmth spread through you, one that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours again, he lets out a small sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath all day and can finally relax. “I hate this,” he admits quietly.

“Hate what?” You ask, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt, needing the physical connection to anchor you.

“Hiding,” he says, the word heavy with the weight of months, years of secrecy. “I hate that we have to keep doing this, sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong.”

You feel a pang in your chest, because you hate it too. Hate the way you have to pretend to be something you’re not in front of everyone else. Hate the way you have to watch your words, your actions, every time you’re in the same room as him. But more than that, you hate the idea of what would happen if the truth came out. The scrutiny, the backlash, the way it would change everything.

“I know,” you say softly, your fingers stilling on his shirt. “But it’s the only way right now. We both knew that going into this.”

“I know we did,” he replies, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a while, neither of you says anything. The silence is comforting, a shared understanding that words can’t always convey. It’s moments like these that make the rest of it bearable — the stolen kisses, the secret glances, the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have each other.

Eventually, Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softer now, the frustration replaced with something gentler, more resigned. “I just wish it could be different,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you admit, your heart aching with the truth of it. “But we’ll get through this, Max. We always do.”

He nods, though you can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, we will,” he says, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “And when we do, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” you echo, holding onto the word like a lifeline.

He leans in to kiss you again, and this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every sensation. And you let him, because you’re doing the same, savoring the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hand cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and the world feels a little less heavy, a little less overwhelming. Max rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says, the words so simple, yet so profound in the way they ground you, remind you of what’s important.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, certain.

He smiles then, that slow, genuine smile that’s just for you, the one that makes your heart skip a beat every time. And in that moment, everything else fades away — the doubts, the fears, the uncertainty of what the future holds. Because right now, in this quiet corner of the paddock, it’s just the two of you, and that’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

“Come on,” Max says after a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod, and together, you slip out of the shadows, making your way back through the maze of trailers and motorhomes, hand in hand. The paddock is quieter now, most of the crew having called it a day, and the sky is a deep, dusky blue as night settles in.

As you walk, you can’t help but glance at Max, the way his profile is lit by the dim lights of the paddock, the way his grip on your hand never wavers. It’s moments like these that make it all worth it — the sacrifices, the secrecy, the constant balancing act between your public and private lives.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not the criticism or the articles or even the races that matter. It’s this — being with him, knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

And as you slip out of the paddock together, unnoticed by anyone, you hold onto that thought, letting it carry you through the darkness, through the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.

Because for now, it’s enough.

And that’s all you need.

***

The Hidden Truth: Why I Kept My Marriage a Secret

By: Y/N Y/L/N

For as long as I’ve been a journalist, I’ve prided myself on one thing: honesty. I’ve built a career on asking the tough questions, on digging for the truth even when it’s uncomfortable, and on holding the powerful accountable. That’s why, as I sit down to write this, I find myself in an unfamiliar position — one where I’m the subject of my own scrutiny.

Over the past few years, I’ve become known as Max Verstappen’s biggest critic. I’ve questioned his decisions on track, his attitude off it, and his approach to the sport we both love. I’ve written article after article dissecting his every move, never once pulling my punches. And, in doing so, I’ve created a persona that many have come to recognize — a journalist who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she’s writing about.

But there’s something I’ve kept hidden. Something I’ve chosen not to share, not because I’m ashamed of it, but because it’s deeply personal. And now, it’s time to tell the truth.

Max Verstappen is my husband.

Yes, you read that correctly. The man I’ve spent years publicly scrutinizing is the same man I wake up next to every morning, the same man who knows me better than anyone else in this world. We’ve been married for two years, together for even longer, and our relationship is something I hold incredibly dear.

I can already hear the questions — how could I, a journalist dedicated to transparency, keep such a monumental secret? How could I write so critically about the man I love, knowing the impact my words would have? The answers are complex, but I’ll do my best to explain.

When Max and I first started dating, it was easy to keep our relationship private. We were just two people trying to navigate the chaotic world of Formula 1, and neither of us wanted the added pressure of public scrutiny. But as our relationship grew more serious, we both knew that revealing it would come with consequences — not just for us, but for our careers, our reputations, and our personal lives.

So we made a choice. We decided that our relationship was something we wanted to protect, something we wanted to keep just for ourselves. And yes, that meant keeping it a secret from the public, from our colleagues, even from some of our closest friends.

But the secrecy wasn’t about hiding. It was about creating a space where we could be ourselves, away from the cameras, the interviews, the constant analysis of every move we made. It was about having something that was ours and ours alone, in a world where so much is shared, dissected, and often distorted.

Now, as for the criticism — many of you will likely wonder how I could write so harshly about the man I love. The truth is, when I put on my journalist hat, I’m not Max Verstappen’s wife. I’m not Y/N, the woman who loves him. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has a job to do. And that job is to report on the sport objectively, to ask the tough questions, and to hold everyone — including my husband — accountable.

Max knew this from the beginning, and he respected it. In fact, he encouraged it. He didn’t want me to go easy on him just because of our relationship. He wanted me to be true to myself and to my profession, even if that meant writing things that were difficult for both of us. And yes, there were times when it was hard — when I wrote something that hurt him, when we had to have difficult conversations about where to draw the line between my role as a journalist and my role as his partner.

But through it all, we’ve managed to keep our relationship strong, because we both understand that what happens on the track, what’s written in the press, isn’t the full story. The full story is what happens behind closed doors, away from the public eye, in the quiet moments we share when it’s just the two of us.

And now, the secret’s out. I know this revelation will come as a shock to many, and I’m prepared for the questions, the speculation, and yes, the criticism that will inevitably follow. But I want to make one thing clear — I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry for keeping our relationship private. I’m not sorry for protecting something that means the world to me. And I’m not sorry for continuing to do my job with integrity, even when it meant writing things that were difficult for both of us.

This is our truth. It’s messy, it’s complicated, but it’s ours. And now, it’s out there for the world to see. I’m not asking for understanding or approval, because I know this will be a difficult pill for some to swallow. But I am asking for respect — for my choices, for our relationship, and for the fact that, at the end of the day, we’re just two people who fell in love in a world that’s anything but ordinary.

Max and I are still the same people we were before you knew about us. He’s still the incredible driver you’ve come to admire, and I’m still the journalist who will continue to ask the tough questions, no matter who’s on the other side of them.

The only difference now is that you know the full story.

And I’m okay with that.

***

The Other Side: Why We Chose to Keep Our Love Private

By: Max Verstappen

I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, whether on the track or off. Racing is in my blood — it’s what I’ve known and loved my entire life. But writing? That’s a whole different race, one where I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. So, when Y/N suggested I write this article, I wasn’t sure if it was such a great idea. But she convinced me — like she always does — so here I am, trying to find the words to explain what’s been one of the most significant parts of my life, one that I’ve kept hidden from the world until now.

As you’ve probably read by now, Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has been my harshest critic, is also my wife. Let that sink in for a moment — I know it took me a while to get used to the idea too. Not the fact that she’s my wife, but that the world now knows something we’ve kept private for so long.

When Y/N and I started dating, we had no idea where it would lead. We were just two people who happened to find something special in each other, despite the chaos of our worlds. But as our relationship deepened, so did the challenges. How do you navigate a relationship when one of you is in the spotlight 24/7, and the other’s job is to shine that light as brightly as possible, even when it’s uncomfortable?

We quickly realized that what we had was too important to let the world dictate how we lived it. So, we made a choice — a choice to keep our relationship private, not because we were ashamed, but because we wanted something for ourselves, something that wasn’t up for public debate or scrutiny.

People will ask why we did it, why we went to such lengths to keep it a secret, and the answer is simple: because we had to. Being a Formula 1 driver means living your life under a microscope. Every move you make, every word you say, is analyzed, criticized, and often misunderstood. It’s a pressure cooker, and adding a public relationship into that mix was something we weren’t willing to do.

It wasn’t an easy decision. There were times when I wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much I love this woman, how much she means to me, and how proud I am of her. But I knew that doing so would open us up to a level of scrutiny neither of us wanted or needed. And so, we kept it quiet, we kept it private, and we built something strong and real away from the cameras.

That’s not to say it was without its challenges. Y/N’s articles about me — some of which were less than flattering — were hard to swallow at times. But I respected her too much to ask her to change the way she does her job. She’s a journalist, and a damn good one at that. She has a responsibility to her readers, to the sport, and to herself to be honest, even if that honesty stings.

Did it hurt when she wrote something critical about me? Of course, it did. But I also understood that what she wrote came from a place of integrity, not malice. It was her job to ask the tough questions, to hold me accountable, and to do so without bias. And I loved her even more for it.

You might wonder how we managed to keep our relationship strong despite the secrecy and the criticism. The truth is, we did it by being honest with each other in ways we couldn’t be with anyone else. We talked — about everything. About the articles, about the pressures we were both under, about our fears and our hopes for the future. We made sure that, no matter what happened on the track or in the press, we were solid in our relationship. And we were.

But now that the secret’s out, I know things will change. People will have opinions, and they’ll want to know every detail of how we made this work. They’ll want to dissect our relationship just like they dissect my races. And that’s fine — we knew this day would come eventually.

What I want people to understand, though, is that our decision to keep our relationship private wasn’t about deception. It was about protection. We wanted to protect what we had, to give ourselves the space to grow as a couple without the pressures of the outside world bearing down on us.

I’ve always been a private person, and that’s not going to change just because the truth is out. But I’m also incredibly proud of what Y/N and I have built together. She’s my toughest critic, yes, but she’s also my biggest supporter, my partner, and the person I trust more than anyone else in this world.

So, why write this now? Because I want to set the record straight. I want people to understand that our relationship is real, that it’s built on love, respect, and a shared understanding of what it means to live in this crazy world of Formula 1. We didn’t hide it because we were ashamed — we hid it because we wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the chaos that surrounds us every day.

And now that the secret’s out, I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I know there will be challenges, but I also know that we’ll face them together, just like we’ve faced everything else.

This is our story. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from simple, but it’s ours. And now, the world knows it too.

***

The sun hangs low over the paddock as you walk beside Max, your hand nestled comfortably in his. The usually bustling environment feels different today, like the air has thickened with anticipation. You can feel the eyes on you — hundreds of them, some curious, some incredulous, all hungry for the next piece of the puzzle that is you and Max Verstappen.

You’ve written about this very paddock more times than you can count. You’ve captured its energy, its chaos, its unpredictability. But today, for the first time, you’re the story.

Max squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance, and you glance up at him. He’s calm, or at least he appears to be. You know him well enough to see the subtle signs of tension — the set of his jaw, the way his eyes scan the crowd with a little more intensity than usual. He’s ready for whatever comes next. So are you, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice low, meant only for you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, managing a small smile.

The first few steps into the paddock are deceptively quiet, almost serene. But then, as if someone has flipped a switch, the cameras flash, the microphones extend, and the questions start flying at you from every direction.

“Max! Is it true you’ve been married for two years?”

“Y/N, why did you keep it a secret?”

“How does this change your dynamic on the grid?”

“Will you be writing about Max differently now?”

You and Max exchange a glance, a wordless conversation in the middle of the media frenzy. His hand tightens around yours, a steady anchor in the chaos. You can feel the eyes of your colleagues, the other journalists who are now looking at you not as one of them but as a subject. It’s a disorienting feeling, like the world has suddenly shifted and you’re standing in a place you no longer recognize.

Max leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Welcome to my world.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, a sound that cuts through the tension like a knife. It’s absurd, this whole situation. You’ve spent years writing about him, criticizing him, analyzing his every move, and now you’re on the other side of that scrutiny.

You straighten your shoulders, drawing on every ounce of professionalism you have. This is what you signed up for. You’ve spent years dissecting the lives of others, and now it’s your turn to be under the microscope. It’s only fair.

But Max isn’t letting you go it alone. He steps forward, his presence commanding as he addresses the swarm of reporters. “We’ll take questions, but let’s keep it civil,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The first question comes from a reporter you recognize, someone you’ve shared more than a few press rooms with. “Max, how does it feel to have your relationship with Y/N out in the open?”

Max glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It feels good. We’ve wanted to keep this part of our lives private, but now that it’s out, we’re ready to move forward.”

Another reporter jumps in, this one more aggressive. “Y/N, how do you expect to remain unbiased in your reporting now that everyone knows you’re married to Max?”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’ve always strived for objectivity in my work, and that won’t change. My relationship with Max is separate from my role as a journalist. I’ll continue to ask the tough questions, just as I always have.”

It’s a carefully crafted answer, one you rehearsed in your head a dozen times before stepping into the paddock. But you can see the skepticism in their eyes, the doubt that you can truly keep your professional and personal lives separate. It stings, but you knew it was coming.

Max’s voice cuts through the murmurs. “Y/N has always been one of the best in the business, and that’s not going to change just because we’re married. If anything, she’ll probably be even harder on me now.”

There’s a ripple of laughter, a brief moment of levity in the tension-filled space. But it’s short-lived. The questions keep coming, each one sharper than the last.

“Max, do you think your performance on the track will be affected now that your marriage is public?”

“Y/N, do you regret keeping this a secret for so long?”

“What about the other drivers? How do they feel about this?”

You’re starting to feel the weight of it all, the relentless pressure of the cameras, the voices, the questions that seem to dig deeper and deeper. But Max is by your side, unwavering, and that gives you strength.

“I don’t regret anything,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. “Max and I made the decision to keep our relationship private because it was what was best for us. We wanted to protect something that mattered to us, and I don’t think anyone can fault us for that.”

Max nods, his hand still wrapped around yours. “We knew this would come with challenges, but we’re ready to face them together.”

There’s a moment of silence, a pause as the reporters digest your words. But you know this isn’t the end of it. The scrutiny, the questions, they’re not going to stop anytime soon. You’ve become the story, and that’s something you’ll have to live with.

But as you stand there, side by side with Max, you realize that you’re okay with it. You’ve spent years writing about other people’s lives, their triumphs and failures, their relationships and rivalries. Now, it’s your turn to be in the spotlight, and you’re ready for it.

“Max, Y/N,” a voice calls out, one of the more seasoned journalists you’ve always respected. “What’s next for you two? How do you plan to navigate this new chapter?”

Max looks at you, his eyes softening. “We’re going to keep doing what we’ve always done. I’ll keep racing, Y/N will keep writing, and we’ll keep supporting each other every step of the way. This is just another challenge, and we’re more than ready to face it.”

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence. “We’re not going to let this change who we are or what we do. We’ve always been a team, and that’s not going to change now.”

There’s a finality to your words, a sense that you’ve said all there is to say. The reporters sense it too, the questions starting to taper off as they realize they’re not going to get anything more out of you today.

Max squeezes your hand one last time before turning to the crowd. “Thanks, everyone. We’ll see you in the media pen.”

With that, he starts to lead you away, but not before you catch the eyes of a few of your colleagues. There’s a mix of emotions there — some understanding, some curiosity, and yes, some judgment. But you don’t let it get to you. You’ve spent your career building a reputation, and one revelation isn’t going to tear that down.

As you walk away from the crowd, Max’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you close. “Not so bad, huh?” He murmurs.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “Speak for yourself. I think I’ll stick to writing the articles, not being the subject of them.”

Max chuckles, his breath warm against your temple. “Now you know why I’m not a fan of the media. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” you echo, smiling up at him.

The paddock is still buzzing with energy, the usual pre-race preparations in full swing. But you and Max walk through it with a new sense of purpose, a newfound clarity. The secret is out, and while it comes with challenges, it also comes with freedom — a freedom to be yourselves, to love each other openly, without the burden of secrecy.

You know the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be more questions, more scrutiny, more judgment. But as long as you have Max by your side, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

[weakformingyu]

Everything has changed | H.J.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Summary: in a game party you find out that your friend, Jisung, might have a crush on you and after that night you might have developed a crush on him too.

Warnings: Han is a loser, awkwardness, jealousy, pool sex 💅🏻, pussy eating, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), a bit of handjob.

Words count: ±3,400

THIS CONTENT IS FOR +18 PEOPLE ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!

A/N: I have some weird ass writers block right now(have been like this for months 😭) but I'm not dead, I'm still alive and thinking about a hundred fics a day, I just don't seem to manage to write them 🤓☝🏻 anyways, this fic was inspired in this post because Han Jisung got some crazy biceps going on here and I'm on my biceps biting era soooo 💅🏻(don't come for me if it's trashy, I haven't written in a hundred years)

If you like my writing don't forget to reblog, comment and like too. xoxo love yall

“What do you think about Jisung?” Was the question Changbin asked when you chose truth in the game of truth or dare you were playing.

You smile sheepishly as all the boys stare at you excitedly and the girls have a little smirk on their lips, as if everyone knows something you don't.

“Hm, he's nice”, you shrug.

“You know that's not what he meant”, Ryujin says, raising a brow.

“Well, then be more specific”, you roll your eyes.

“Would you fuck him?” Karina asks, making the whole group gasp with her bluntness. Your eyes dart to Jisung, who's as red as a tomato, his bottom lips are stuck between his teeth while he stares at you anxiously.

“That's- I never thought about that, so I'm not sure”, you answer nervously. Seeing Jisung’s shoulders go down and a pout form in his lips.

“Then, there's your answer”, Karina shrugs, turning the bottle so someone else can go.

You were being truthful, you never thought about your friend in that way. You know he's handsome but you always avoid having second intentions with someone so close to you because you don't want to lose a friendship.

However, after that day and after seeing Jisung's reaction to your answer, you can't shake the feeling that maybe he's into you. You constantly catch his gaze lingering on you, when you guys are alone he keeps stuttering and even when your other friends are around, he treats you differently from them.

A few weekends after that night, Chan invites everyone to a get together in his house so everyone's going to sleep there after. Karina, Ryujin and Lia stop by your house in the early afternoon to get you so you can all go to Chan's together. When you get there, the guys are in the pool playing some sort of game, Felix and Changbin are on top of two floats, fighting while Minho is attacking Changbin with his water gun and Jisung is in the middle of both.

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jisung holds Changbins thighs, his biceps are deliciously showing and flexing as the older man falls out of the float and the younger one catches him, grabbing his bottom slightly but you can't help but wish you could be the one being grabbed by him like that.

Yes, you weren't lying that night when you said you had never thought about Jisung in that way. The problem is, that after you did, you couldn't stop. Everything he did from that night onwards caught your attention. His eyes on you, his lips, the way he smirks when someone says something dirty and he thinks no one's paying attention. The way every piece of fabric he wears hugs his body like it was made just for him. Your girlfriends are already onto you, they know something is off and they have the feeling that you finally opened your eyes to the puppy in love in your group of friends, but they decided not to say anything for now, afraid that they are going to scare you off and make you bury your new found attraction for Jisung deep in your heart, afraid to ruin your friendship.

You shake your head, listening to what the others are talking while you go inside to put your things in the guestroom Chan has prepared for you.

You spend the afternoon mostly just sunbathing while observing the guys joking around and other people arrive little by little taking your attention away from the pool.

While you eat, you can't help but notice a blonde laughing too loudly, catching your attention. She pushes Jisung playfully, throwing her head back, making you huff annoyed, you're sure what he said isn't even that funny.

“I'm gonna get some more beer, does anyone want something from the kitchen?” Jisung gets up, asking around.

“I'll help”, the blonde smiles, following him after some people ask for their beverage of choice and your eyes linger on his figure, as he walks away with the beautiful girl.

“Oh, y/n, can you get some more napkins for us?” Ryujin asks. You frown, you're sure you just saw a mountain of napkins somewhere but you have no idea where it went as you look around and can't find it.

“Sure”, you nod, getting up to go to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter the house you can hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath trying to gather the courage to go inside and see something you're not sure you want to.

The girl is close to Jisung, too close for her own good, attached to his arm, practically hanging on to him. You scowl, feeling the blood in your body boiling, if you weren't sure about your feelings for your friend, you are damn sure now seeing as you're basically foaming at the mouth with the view right in front of you.

Jisungs gaze lands on you immediately when you enter the kitchen, his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, detaching himself from the girl.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, knowing well that you are and ignoring the glare the blonde gives you.

“Ye-” she tries to say, but is cut off by the man whose gaze hasn't left your figure since the moment you arrived.

“No”, he gulps, “what are you looking for?” Jisung asks.

“Napkins”, you say, tilting your head and leaning over the counter. Your elbows rest on the surface, purposely bringing attention to your chest.

“Just a minute”, Jisung gulps, turning around and opening the fridge. He takes out four cans of beer and gives it to the blonde. “You can go back first, I'll bring the rest in a minute”

She looks at him for a whole 10 seconds, stunned and then huffs, marching out of there.

“Your girlfriend is lovely”, you tease him, walking around the counter to get closer to him.

“She's not my girlfriend”, he laughs sheepishly, “we were just talking”

“I'm sure you were”, you say sarcastically and stare at him for a moment. “So? The napkins?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah! Here”, he says, turning around to open the door to the cabinet on top of the sink.

Jisung’s arms look especially strong when he's flexing like that to pull the packages, it's something so mundane but it makes you blush the same way. He closes the door after and hands the products to you. “I'm going to get the beer for the others and follow you in a moment”

You nod, realizing that everything is different now that you know that you like your friend. You like Han Jisung.

You wake up the next morning feeling like shit, you tossed and turned in your bed until you finally fell asleep. You thought about all the things that could go wrong now that you liked one of your friends. What if things didn't work out between you two, you're sure it would cause a rift on your friend group.

Most people went home after midnight, Chan lets only his close friends crash in his house so you know everyone that stayed the night. Lia is by your side, yapping about what you're planning to do in the afternoon while you bite into your bread and try to not freak out when Jisung shows up in the living room. You keep avoiding his eyes, like you're guilty of something, and you definitely are, guilty of liking one of your friends.

In the afternoon you go out with Ryujin, Felix and Hyunjin, you all wanna walk around in the city and buy some clothes you definitely don't need. In the car you stare outside, your friends notice you're dozing around but prefer to wait for you to tell them if something is wrong.

After buying a new bikini, you just accompany your friends in their shopping spree. When you have no more room in the car for any more bags, you finally sit to get something to eat and while you wait for your order, you seize the opportunity to ask what's been on your mind in the last hour.

“Does Jisung like me?” You ask, you want to be sure that he doesn't want to just sleep with you.

“Where did that come from?” Felix frowns.

“That night I was asked if I would sleep with him”, you blush, “I was just wondering if he likes me or just finds me attractive”

Below the table, your fingers are pressing and scratching one another, you're nervous.

“I thought it was pretty obvious”, Hyunjin says, shrugging and getting elbowed by Felix.

“I don't think we are supposed to talk about that”, the younger one smiles awkwardly.

“Oh, please. It's not like the guy has made any effort to keep it a secret”, Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Clearly y/n likes him, that's why she wants to know”, your friend completes, laughing as your eyes grow wide. “It's not like you are making any effort to hide it either”

“Yes, he likes you”, Hyunjin says, ignoring Felix’s worries, “but he was very disheartened after that night when you said you never thought about him in that way”

‘It's a lie, but you don't need to know that’, he thinks to himself. Hyunjin is much more experienced in the love field, opposite to you and Jisung, so he knows you just need a little push for things to start working out and he doesn't mind being the one shoving you to each other.

“Oh”, that's all you can say.

That means maybe he doesn't like you anymore, right? That girl from the other night was very pretty, maybe she's his new type. She looked very girly and soft, you don't know if you would be considered any of that. Most importantly, she was clearly interested in him, maybe he wants to go after someone who doesn't reject him in front of everyone he knows.

You toss and turn once more in bed, Ryujin is sleeping right next to you and you're afraid of waking her up because you can't sleep. Your mind is so full of thoughts, a million per hour and you just can't stop thinking about how you ruined everything with the guy you like.

Even with the AC turned on, you're still hot and since you don't want to wake up anyone, you silently grab your bikini, putting it on before going to the pool.

You didn't expect to find Jisung there, he's just floating in the water with a pout on his lips and eyes closed, maybe he fell asleep?

You sit comfortably on the edge of the pool, putting only your feet in the water and watching Jisung. After a few minutes of complete stillness, the man opens his eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into the water.

He comes back a few seconds later, back turned to you and you can't help but watch him. His back is muscular, broad shoulders with a tiny waist. When he turns around, he flinches, seeing you there, staring at him.

“I didn't mean to scare you”, you chuckle.

“It's fine”, he scratches the back of his head, “I thought I was the only one still awake”

“It's really hot, I couldn't sleep”, you say, it's not the whole truth but you're not sure if you want him to know that he's the reason you're still wide awake.

He nods, awkwardly looking around while his hands play with the water. Since that game, you both have been feeling weird near each other, you for discovering these new emotions towards your friend and him for being embarrassed that you knew about his one sided crush.

‘Maybe it's worth it’, you think to yourself. He already risked it all when he let you know about his crush, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't like you anymore, you just have to ask.

“About that night…”, you ask out of nowhere with a courage you have no idea where it came from. “Do you still like me?”

Jisung opens his mouth a few times, closing it right after, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything”, he sighs.

“Do you still like me?” You frown, repeating your question.

“Yeah, I do”, he shrugs, embarrassed.

“I never thought about you that way before”, you say, seeing the pout growing in his lips, “but after that night I kinda did”

Jisung stares at you for a minute before speaking again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like you back”, you feel your whole face heating while you wait for him to react. You both are still far from each other, Jisung in the middle of the pool while you're at the edge. His eyes grow wide and his lips open like he has something to say but doesn't know how.

He starts coming close to you, your heart beating faster as the distance between you both lessens, until the man stops in front of you, his hands landing on each side of your thighs but still not touching.

“Can you repeat that?” He blushes, “I don't want you to say you like me back just because you pity me”, he bites on his bottom lip and you smile. You cup his face with your hands, bending down so you can kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes good, sweet, like something you would never get tired of. His hands finally touch your skin, sliding to your thighs and squeezing the plushy flesh.

“If you knew me at all, you'd know I would never lie about liking someone”, you let go of him, smiling and giving him a peck before growing the distance between your faces.

“I just really like you”, he blushes, biting his bottom lip, finally letting his gaze travel down your body, going through your tits pushed up by the bikini top and going down your stomach, until it reaches your bikini bottom, his hands squeezing your thighs even more to the view of your body in front of him.

“Is that so?” You smirk, “show me then”, you smile, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Show me how much you like me”

Jisung doesn't waste any time, grabbing your face with only one hand and squeezing your cheeks, kissing you harshly. His other hand slides up, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom so he can untie the bow. He pulls away from you, leaving kisses down your neck, he has his hand down on your pussy, putting on a finger and watching your reaction to it.

You moan, grinding your hips against his hand so you can feel him deeper. Jisung has his mouth slightly opened, dazed with the little whimpers you let out when he adds another finger inside you. Your hands go instantly to his shoulders, nails burying in his skin while his other hand unties the top of your bikini, freeing your tits. Jisung watches them bounce with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He can't help himself, coming closer, his mouth closing on your left breast, his tongue playing with your nipple, making you moan.

His thumb slides to your clit and you bite on your bottom lip, trying not to make too much noise — at least not more than you're already making.

The man smiles, kissing down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy and you can feel his breath hitting the skin, making you tremble.

He licks a stripe between your folds, your hands fly to his hair pulling the locks. Jisung's hands slide to your thighs, pulling you more to the edge of the pool. Putting your legs over his shoulders and grabbing your ass so he can eat you out more intensely.

He looks like a man starved, the way he groans and moans just by feeling your taste. Jisung is so turned on he could come just by feeling your tight pussy in his mouth. The sounds you make are divine, he can't believe he gets to hear you like this, because of him, just for him.

“I- I'm gonna-”, you can't even finish your sentence, moaning the moment you try to say more than three words.

“Come for me, baby”, he stops eating you out just to say it, going back to work as soon as the words leave his mouth, he stares at you intensely from down there, working even harder and making you come undone in his mouth.

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed. You can't believe how good he's at this and it also makes you a bit jealous, how did he get so good?

You watch as the man cleans around his mouth with his thumb, immediately taking the finger to his mouth to lick it clean and you hold the moan that wants to escape your mouth.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks, not expecting you to but hoping that you do.

You nod, untying the other side of your bikini bottom, throwing the piece of fabric behind you.

You take Jisung's hands in yours, guiding them to your waist as you push yourself into the water. The man holds you, kissing your lips as soon as you are close enough to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs when he pulls you towards him, wanting to feel your body on his and you can feel the heat growing all over your body again.

You slide your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his dick and making him whimper in your mouth. You bite on his bottom lip, your hand makes movements of back and forth, making Jisung bend down and bite your shoulder, trying to suppress his moan. You groan, it feels good having him so close to you, marking you as his.

You pull his shorts down all the way down, pushing yourself up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Jisung grabs his cock, rubbing his tip on your entrance, slightly teasing your clit.

“Are you sure about this?” He groans, trying to control himself, “after this I won't let you go”

You nod, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Words”, he whispers, barely being able to hold himself back.

“Fuck.me.now”, you say with gritted teeth, opening your eyes to stare at him, holding onto his shoulders when he finally enters you.

You feel like heaven when he's inside you, your velvet walls tightening around him make him groan.

“Shit”, he cusses, biting on his bottom lip. “You're so hot”, he gets closer, kissing you deeply. His lips are so soft, you could never get over it.

Jisung starts thrusting, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer, fucking you deeper.

Your hands slide to his hair, pulling the locks while his lips go down your neck. He bites on your skin, sucking the area until it's red and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. One of his hands goes to your clit, rubbing the bud, making you get closer to your climax.

“I'm close”, he says, his thrusts faster and his fingers working diligently.

“I'm close too”, you say, kissing him, feeling his thrusts getting sloppier. You feel the hot liquid being spilled inside you, but he doesn't stop. Jisung keeps going, putting more pressure into your clit until you're trembling around him. He whimpers in your mouth, his hips faltering and both of your breaths growing tired.

He rests his head on your shoulder for a few seconds, before moving away from you, staring at you like you're going to fight him and run off.

“I guess you like me a lot”, you smirk, watching him blush and smile.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” He asks, biting on his bottom lip.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you smile, giving him a peck on the lips. “I even already have the reason for our first fight”, you raise one brow, laughing as his eyes grow wide.

“What?”

“You are going to have to explain to me how you got so good at eating pussy”, you tease and he smiles.

“I guess I'm just a natural”, he shrugs, making you shake your head in amusement and kiss him.

You could get used to this, you definitely can.

[lomlhwa]

bite me (l.hs)

pairing: vampire bf!heeseung x human gf!reader

preview: heeseung loves to scare you. so tonight, you've agreed to a sick game of hide and seek. better pray he can't smell you.

tags/warnings: fem reader, lots of biting, blood drinking, marking, kinda cnc, edging, chasing through the woods, "if i catch you, i fuck you" type shit, pet names (whore, slut, cockslut, baby), impact play, monster cock heeseung, heeseung is MEAN, degrading, color system, masochism, fingering, kinda public sex but it's late at night in a forest, fear play, kinda predator/prey, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, sweet aftercare

trigger warnings: kinda cnc

wc: 2.2k

song recs for this fic: bite me by enhypen

a/n: little late from halloween to be posting a vamp fic but here we are

you open your front door, finding that your house is pitch black and empty. you feel around for the light next to the door and flip the switch. you’re met with a sticky note stuck to the banister of the stairs. you walk over and pick it up. ‘hide. if i find you, you’re fucking mine.’ cold sweat drips down your forehead. you love when heeseung plays this game. you crumple up the note and book it. you head for the bathroom just as you hear the front door open, indicating that your hunter is here. 

you scramble to try and find a hiding spot, opting to jump in the bathtub and shut the curtain. you plop yourself down in one end of the tub and put your hand over your mouth to stifle how hard you’re breathing. you hear heeseung climb his way up the stairs, humming to himself. “where are you, my pretty whore?” he says in a sing-songy voice. “i know your pussy is dripping for me right now.” you clench your thighs together, hating how well he knows your body. you can hear him wander into your shared bedroom, clicking his tongue when he doesn’t find you in there. 

you hear him walk towards the bathroom and stop in the doorway. “i know your pretty cunt can’t wait to be filled, isn’t that right…” he trails off as he walks over to the bathtub and throws the curtain open. “gotcha.” his eyes flash bright red and you can’t help but scream. you’re frozen for a moment before you clamber out of the tub. you manage to sprint past heeseung, down the stairs and out the front door. you head for the forest behind your house, despite it being late at night. you look over your shoulder and spot heeseung walking very confidently after you. you swerve and try to get yourself out of his line of sight. 

you take a corner too fast and catch your foot on a branch. you come crashing down to the ground, catching yourself on your elbows. the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through you pushes you to get up and walk it off. you run for a while more until your legs and lungs are positively aching. you come across a fairly large tree and decide to hide behind it to catch your breath. you peek around the tree and can’t spot heeseung, so you start to relax. 

that is until a hand wraps around your neck and slams your back against the tree, knocking the wind out of you. “you fucking thought you could outrun me?” you wrap your hands around his wrist and do your best to shake your head. your eyes fill with pure fear as he bares his fangs at you. you dig your nails into the skin of his wrist, desperate to get him to release you. “color?” he asks, loosening his grip on your throat. “g-green,” you respond, gasping for air while you can. with this confirmation, he tightens his grip once again, lifting you up and dropping you to the forest floor. 

he gets on his knees at your feet, grabbing your ankles and forcing your legs open. he’s quick to slot himself between your legs, right at your core. he traps your head between his arms, slamming his palms down onto the ground by your head. “i didn’t expect you to run out of the house, baby. i guess you just really wanted everyone to listen to me fuck you, huh?” he taunts you, grinding his hips against you, earning him a whimper from you. “get off me,” you demand, trying to roll away. he catches you, shaking his head. “the little brat doesn’t know when to give up, does she?” he grabs your wrists with his hands and pins you down. his irises flash bright red again as he leans down to connect his fangs with your throat. you cry out, kicking your legs to try and escape his hold on you.

he lets your hands go and trails them down your body. he finds your skirt and flips it up, grabbing at the waistband of your underwear and tugging them off you. he discards them somewhere in the woods before connecting his fingers to your cunt. he circles your clit as he begins sucking on your neck, relishing in the iron taste of your blood. the mix of pain and pleasure has your mind spinning, your whole body trembling. “h-heeseung,” you croak, pushing at his head to try and get him to stop draining you. “y-yellow,” you add and he immediately pulls his teeth away. 

you cough and wipe the extra blood away from your neck as heeseung inserts a finger into your hole. your back arches at his attempt to distract you from the pulsing pain in your neck. you look up at him, his face illuminated in the moonlight. his mouth is covered in your blood and he can’t help but smile at you. “you’re always so fucking delicious, slut.” he emphasizes his words by adding another finger and prodding at the spot where you need him most. your back arches off the ground, a strangled moan leaving your throat. heeseung forces your shirt up and over your breasts, his free hand coming up to pinch at your sensitive nipples. “i think you need a punishment for being so fucking disobedient,” he feigns pity, raising his hand and landing a hard slap to your face. “answer me,” he demands. “yes, i d-deserve a punishment,” you answer. 

he lands hard smacks across your torso, leaving bright red and pink handprints all over you. he thrusts and wiggles his fingers around inside you, the pleasure between your legs growing. you reach up and dig your nails into his shoulders, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. “c-close, heeseung,” you mutter, the chord in your stomach tightening. a sinister look spreads over his face as he gets you closer and closer, before pulling his fingers out of you completely. “you really think dirty, disobedient whores deserve to cum? let alone without asking?” he removes himself from between your legs, flipping your skirt back down. “run some more, i like hunting my prey. and if you wanna cum, beg me to fuck you while you run,” he stands up, gesturing to the expanse of the forest. 

you’re quick to get to your feet and run, your speed significantly diminished. overcome by heightened emotions, you begin to cry. “seung, please,” you cry out, ducking and dodging branches. “please fuck me, i’ll behave!” you scream, wiping your eyes of their tears. you pause and look around, finding that heeseung is nowhere near you. “heeseung! please!” you take off running again, having no idea where you are or where you’re going. you’re overwhelmed and scared in the thickly wooded forest. you’re crying so hard your chest hurts and you can barely see. you collapse to the ground, holding your head in your hands.

“heeseung stop hiding, i know you’re out there,” you mumble, wiping your eyes for what feels like the millionth time. you know that if you say the word, he’ll put an end to the game. but under all your very real terror, you still want him to fuck you. you feel a presence behind you and you turn your head to find your boyfriend towering over you. “is my prey sacrificing herself to her predator?” he asks, crouching down and examining your face. you nod, pouting at him. you no longer had the energy to run from him. 

he grabs you by the hair on the back of your head and forces your neck to bend at a weird angle. “tell me you want me to fuck you. beg for my cock like a good whore,” he demands of you, despite having you run and beg just moments prior. with the angle your head is bent at, you have the perfect view of how hard his cock is straining against his pants. you've never made him this hard before. “heeseung please, i need you to fuck me. i’ve done everything you’ve asked of me,” you sob, your whole body aching. he almost takes pity on you for a moment before returning to his mean headspace. “good girl, lay down on your back,” he gestures to the ground with his eyes. you’re quick to follow orders, wanting to be on your absolute best behavior from here on out. 

you dig out a couple of sticks from under your spine before fully settling onto the forest floor. heeseung is quick to get between your legs, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your exposed clit. you gasp, throwing your head back. heeseung reaches down between you to undo his pants. he doesn’t bother removing them all the way, opting to slide his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh, just enough to let his pink and swollen cock free. he drags the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to make getting inside you easier. he leans down to kiss you, his tongue swirling with yours. he nips at your bottom lip as he sheathes himself into you. your body shudders, the relief of finally being filled sends a new wave of desire through you.

heeseung wastes no time in drawing his hips back and slamming into you. his tip slams into the gummy spot deep inside you, making you see stars. you can tell that despite his demeanor, he wants you just as bad as you want him. he groans against your mouth, your pussy clenching around him in the most delicious way. you suck him in perfectly, your cunt begging for more. “what a slut. d-desperate for cock even deep in the forest. fucking pathetic,” heeseung can’t help but let out a sinister chuckle at the way you clench with the way he talks to you. “just so cock drunk and i’ve barely done anything.” heeseung fucks into you with so much force that your whole body is jerking on the floor. your back arches and you dig your head into the forest floor. you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure. this displeases heeseung and his grips your face with one of his hands. “open your eyes and fucking look at me. i wanna see how fucking good i make you feel,” he demands and your eyelids flutter open.

you hold eye contact with heeseung as he loses himself in the sensation of your soaked heat. you breathe heavily as you feel your orgasm approaching, your body becoming desperate for release. “seungie…” you whine, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into his soft skin. you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him as close to you as possible. “f-fuck baby, if you do that i won’t be able to pull out,” he whines, his own orgasm approaching him swiftly. “d-don’t pull out, give me cum,” you blabber, your thoughts getting fuzzier by the second. “please let me cum,” you beg, your eyes welling with tears. you move your hands from his forearms to wrap around his neck and pull his lips to yours. “cum for me, baby,” he says between kisses. he thrusts into you at the perfect rhythm, drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re twitching uncontrollably. “oh fuck-” he stutters as he releases into you soon after. his hips stutter as he rides out his orgasm, relishing in the way your walls milk him dry.

he stops moving and for a moment just remains inside you, catching his breath. he admires your tear stained face in the moonlight, finding you the most beautiful in moments like these. he pulls out of your slowly, a small whimper erupting from you at the emptiness. heeseung pulls his pants back up and scoops you into his arms. he carries you all the way back to your house, all the way up to your bathroom where he had found you just a while ago. he places you on the counter before turning around to run a hot shower for the two of you. as the water heats up, he helps you out of your clothes before removing his own. he lifts you again and holds you up under the warm water. you hum at the comforting warmth of his body heat mixed with the water. “hi baby,” he finally speaks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “hi seungie,” you respond, looking up at him with a giddy look. “i love you,” he adds, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “i love you too,” you rise to your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. 

“you’re so pretty. you’re perfect and i wouldn’t trade you for the world. you know that, right?” he stares at you as you nod. “i know.” heeseung spins you around and lathers shampoo in your hair, aiming to remove the leaves and sticks that remained in your hair. “did you have fun?” he asks after rinsing your hair carefully. you nod, smiling. “i was genuinely scared at some points but honestly i think it made it more fun,” you giggle. heeseung sighs in relief. “well, i’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” he embraces you tightly, wanting as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. he takes you out of the shower, drying you off and running to your room to get some comfy pajamas. 

he holds you tightly as you settle into bed together, whispering sweet nothings about how much he loves you and how he would never want to actually hurt you. his soft, honey voice slowly lulls you to sleep, your muscles finally relaxing for the first time since before you got home. 

© lomlhwa 2024

[felassan]

EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

[lucedilunax]

The fight - Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn's girlfriend is turned on after his fight during the game against Kings

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), dom!quinn, dirty talk, degradation, spit, oral (m and f receiving), dacryphilia, spanking, rough sex, swearing

words: 1.9 k

note: i forgot to add this and it was saved all weekend in drafts haha enjoy it guys!

masterlist

---

„…And Quinn Hughes lost his temper…” That’s all she heard from the tv. The score was showing 3:2 for Vancouver, so she decided to get ready for bed. 5 minutes of the game were left, and she felt confident that Quinn and his team were gonna win this. Although, when she heard the sentence from commentators’ mouths, she froze in the bathroom with her toothbrush in mouth.

She ran back to the bedroom to rewind and see the situation in which her boyfriend lost his cool. When she saw the way Quinn threw Kings’ player into the bands, she felt her cheeks burning. Quinn was the definition of a calm and composed person. She barely saw him losing his temper. She watched this clip all over again. The next thing she saw was Quinn chirping at the guy in the penalty box. All she had in her mind was this fight and him in the penalty box.

Right after the game was over and Vancouver celebrated a 4:2 win, she reached for her phone and sent Quinn a message, “You did incredible today, but the fight?? You’re badass out there, so hot captain”. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She laid in the bed and watched the clips on social media. After two hours, Quinn called her.

“You really enjoyed me throwing the guy into bands?” He laughed. She knew that she’s on speaker when she heard his voice muffled and him packing suitcase.

“Well yeah, I didn’t know you could be that hot”. She said biting her nails.

“Don’t tell me this turns you on”. When she was dead silent, he continued. “You can’t be serious. Me being mad got you on?”

“I… Yeah.”. He giggled. “But in my defense, I never saw you in this way”.

“Oh, what I should do with you now”.

“You can be mean to me too…” Before she could speak again, he interrupted her.

“Princess, you're ridiculous”.

“Why? We can always spice things up in bedroom”. He hasn’t said anything, she felt that it was dumb suggestion. “Or never mind, forget what I said, it was stupid”.

“No, it wasn’t. I just got lost in my thoughts”. He took a deep breath and spoke again. “If this is what you want, we can do it”.

“Oh, I want to”.

“Good… good. Then I expect you to be ready when I get back home”.

“Yes captain”.

“You’re playing with the fire princess”. He already was turned on by the thought of her at his mercy . “I love you”.

“Love you too, can’t wait to see you”.

They hung up and she finally could fall asleep. She set her alarm clock early to get ready. When she woke up, she went to take a shower and shaved her body. After it, she went to their dressing room and picked his favorite lingerie. To make it not too obvious, she put on one of his old shirts and went to the kitchen to make them breakfast. She knew, he’s probably hungry after the trip.

On the other hand, Quinn’ mind was thinking all the time about her words. He couldn’t believe that losing his temper turned her on so much to want to have rough sex. He started to think of the ways to make the most of it and at the same time not to hurt her. There were so many things he always wanted to try with her and now, he saw the perfect opportunity.

When Quinn finally got back home, the first thing that hit his nose was the smell of bacon and orange juice. He dropped his bags by the front door and went further to their apartment. She was placing all the food on the table. She turned and saw him standing in his suit, hands in his pockets. She was already turned on.

“Hi baby, great games in California”. She went to kiss him and placed his hands behind his neck. He grabbed her by the waist and hugged her. His hand went to grab her ass and play with her panties.

“You look beautiful”. He spanked her. “As much as I would love to fuck you, you need to eat because I know that you waited for me. Get your cute butt on the chair and let’s dive in your delicious food”.

She did what he told her. They sat at the table and ate breakfast together. Quinn was telling her how roadie went, and she was telling him about her work. When they finished, she stood up to clean the table, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her on his lap.

“Not so fast princess. We have things to discuss”. He kissed her behind her ear, knowing how much she loved it. “Do you trust me with what’s about to happen?”

“Yes”. She kissed his lips.

“Good. Now, if anything I did will make you uncomfortable, you will tell me, right?” She nodded her head. He grabbed her chin so she could face him fully. “Words princess”.

“Yes, I will tell you. Can we start?” He laughed at her desperation.

“You really turn on, huh? I bet you’re already soaking wet”. He placed his hand in her panties and started rubbing her clit. “Gosh, you’re pathetic. I haven’t done anything and you’re wet. Is the fight really got you going?” She moaned at his words. Quinn never spoke to her like that but she already loved it.

“Don’t tell me that you enjoy when I degrade you”. He said not believing in this but seeing how she blushed, he realized that she enjoys it.

“You’re so simple to read, it’s such a shame that I’ll ruin you today”. Quinn whispered in her ear. He took off his hand from her panties and put his fingers in her mouth. She gladly accepted them and sucked on them. “Bedroom, naked, now. I’ll come in a minute”.

She listened to him and stood up. She went to their bedroom swaying her hips and undressing at the same time. Quinn watched her every move, feeling the bulge growing in his pants. Before he went to her, he undressed by himself, throwing his suit in the bathroom. When he finally stepped to the bedroom, he saw her all naked, kneeling next to their bed.

“How cute. Judging by your position, you want me to fuck your mouth. Am I right princess?” He closed the distance between them and started caressing her cheek.

“You deserve a reward after those games”. She said and grabbed his underwear to take it off, but he stopped her.

“Not so fast. Let me enjoy the view for a bit”. She felt objectified by his words, but she loved this new side of him. She started getting ever more wet. Quinn finally made a move and stepped out from his underwear. “Spit on it”. That’s all he said to her. She obeyed and played with her tongue on his tip. “Open up and start the work”. She took him to her mouth but couldn’t fit his cock. He laughed, seeing her struggle. “Aww, poor baby, can’t even fit my dick”. He mocked her and pushed himself further into her mouth.

The tip of his cock hit her throat. She was gagging around him. Her chin was covered in her spit and tears were falling from her eyes. Quinn looked at her and felt even more turned on. He loved seeing her face so helpless. Before he could release in her mouth, he took off his dick. She pounded on his action.

“You wanted my cum?” He asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She nodded but corrected herself.

“Yes… captain”. She used this phrase on purpose, to see where this will bring her. His eyes darkened hearing her, saying captain in a sexual way. This woke up a new side of him. Quinn pulled her by hair so she could stand up. He pulled her closer to his face and grabbed her throat.

“You shouldn’t have said that”. He whispered to her ear. “You’re gonna regret this”. Before she could react, Quinn turned her around and bent her over the bed. The first slap laid on her ass. 

“You think it’s funny?” Second slap. “To call me captain?” Third slap. “Is this some kind of game for you?” Fourth one. “Answer me or have I already made you dumb?” Fifth slap.

“No…” Her voice broke down. “Wanted to see your reaction”. She said all in tears.

He helped her stand up and turn her so she was facing him.

“Poor baby is already crying. Wait until I ruin this pussy”. He kissed her and pushed her on the bed. “Grab your thighs, raise them and keep your legs open”. She obeyed him hoping for him to fuck her. Instead, he played with her clit. “So wet just from using your mouth and spanking. Maybe I should leave you like that. Do you deserve my cock in your greedy pussy?”

“Yes”. 

“Then beg for it. Be a good girl”.

“Please Quinn. Do something, I’ll do anything”. She felt humiliated.

“Anything you say? So pathetic”. He pushed two fingers into her pussy. She screamed, not expecting this. The pain soon became a pleasure to her. He was fingering her at a ruthless pace. She was moaning louder with each thrust. “Shut up. You’re so loud just around my fingers”. She tried to keep the noise quiet but couldn’t. Quinn took his fingers out of her. He went to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. She laid her legs on the bed. 

“Have I told you to do it?” 

“No”.

“Then why did you do it?” He asked, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes. 

“I… I thought you’re done. I’m sorry”. She felt ashamed and tried to ignore his eyes.

“I’ll be the judge of when I’m done with you. Good thing you remembered your manners and apologized”. Quinn caressed her cheek and spread her legs open. He put the tip of his dick in her. He pushed his all length into her. She closed her legs out of habit but he grabbed her knees and spread them again.

“Don’t do that or I’ll not let you come”. He threatened her. The thought of not being able to cum scared her and decided to act like he plays her. Quinn was fucking her fastly. He was abusive to her pussy but she loved every minute of it. She was moaning his name like a mantra. This was a motivation for him. He felt her wall tightening around his dick. He knew she’s close.

“Cum”. That’s all that he said to her. She screamed his name loudly when she reached her climax. Two more thrusts and he also cum. He pulled his dick out of her and threw away the condom. Quinn looked at her trying to catch her breath.

“Hey, you alright princess?” She nodded her head, too tired to speak. “You did so good for me. I’m proud of you”. He kissed her forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you a nice bath”. She followed him to the bathroom. Both of them laid in the hot water. Quinn helped her to wash her body. 

“You were so hot today. Even hotter than in the fight”. She joked when they left the bathroom and headed out to the living room.

“Thanks”. He smiled. “I still can’t believe that you got all worked up only because I threw a guy into bands. You’re something”. He kissed her temple and went to the kitchen to prepare lunch when she sat on the couch and turned on the tv. They spent the rest of the day laying on the couch, cuddling and watching movies.

---

Thanks for reading💕

[puck-luck]

luke x older reader anon again! congrats on 1k! submitting the same request, with hearts and prompt 25 🫶🏻

warnings: unprotected p in v, age gap (not major.), religious themes & motifs, pining, childhood friends to lovers vibes, best friend's brother ofc, jealousy, occasionally insecure statements from luke, really just the sweetest sex you can imagine. i LOVED writing this. hence... the length.

WC: 4,351

You’ve been friends with the Hughes boys as long as you can remember. The first time you met Quinn, it was during your first pee-wee skate. 

Your dad was a big hockey fan, so he wanted to teach you how to skate. The debate had been between figure skating and hockey– your mom loved gymnastics, dance, and figure skating, having been an artistic athlete herself. Your dad wanted you to skate regardless, but hockey felt more suited for your talents. You were a competitive child– and territorial over your toys– so your dad thought it would translate well into a hockey environment. 

He took you to the Olympics in Salt Lake when you were three years old. You went to see figure skating and two of the United States hockey games– one for the men and one for the women. To your dad, it wasn’t a surprise how your eyes grew into saucers when you watched your first live hockey game.

He’d enrolled you in peewee skate the following week. There were no girls-only leagues, so you were put into a coed league. Quinn was in the same league. You became very fast friends– you liked to talk, your new little buddy liked to listen, and then you finally got him out of his shell midway through the season and your friendship was fully cemented. Actually, the second you learned his last name was Hughes– like Sarah Hughes, who won the Olympic Gold in single’s figure skating when you were in Utah– he was stuck with you. Just because you’d preferred hockey didn’t mean you didn’t love ice skating, too. It just wasn’t your passion.

You and Quinn stayed in touch after that peewee hockey season, enrolling in the same league and requesting to be on the same team until you both graduated into the boys- and girls-only leagues. You still remained friends, staying in contact as best you could when he moved to Toronto. You’d send letters back and forth and you became a pro at interpreting Quinn’s boyishly terrible handwriting. He’d tell you about his brothers, his parents, his school, and his hockey teams. You’d keep him updated on home, but then it stopped being home to Quinn. Soon enough, you were only talking about hockey and family. ‘Did you see that Crosby won the Hart Trophy?’ ‘Yeah! Ovi got the Calder though, so we’re still on even playing field. Canadian boy.’ ‘Hey, Ovi is Russian. Choose a real American and get back to me.’

It wasn’t long until you secured an invitation to visit the Hughes during the summer. You and your family went up to Toronto to visit them and you got to play with the Hughes boys for a whole week. It was so much fun, so the next summer, you begged to invite them to your place for a week.

The tradition continued for years, alternating houses and hometowns. You and Quinn both applied to Michigan– he played hockey, you did not. You were a good player, but you’re more of a beer league girl. You weren’t recruited to play college hockey– which, for a while, you thought was weird, because there are so few female hockey players in America. You’re hoping that your lack of recruitment means that there are hundreds of amazing women who are better than you at the sport, and that helped you accept your fate. After all, Quinn would sometimes bring you to the rink when it was empty. You’d get to play for a little while– and it was nice, in college, to have someone who knew you so well.

A lot of people assumed that you and Quinn were together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quinn was like your brother. There was that weird month when you were thirteen and you’d gone to visit him over the summer and you’d thought, maybe… but it turned out that you were just thirteen and confused because of your rampant hormones and puberty. Quinn is just your friend, your best friend. 

All of the brothers were pretty off-limits. You’d seen the way girls had started flirting with Jack as he’d entered his teens. You’re able to admit that he’s a cute boy. Luke was an absolute sweetheart, always trying to play with Quinn (and, by extension, you) as you’d grown up. You felt so fond of Luke in a ‘look at how precious he is, I need to protect him’ sort of way.

And then, last night at the lake house, he’d helped you line up a shot in pool and kept his hand on the small of your back when you bent over the table, and your mind had been spinning ever since. 

You can’t tell Quinn, obviously. That’s his baby brother. You’re not even sure how you feel about it– Luke’s always been your little buddy. Now, he’s over half a foot taller than you, so he’s not so little anymore. Still– he’s four years younger than you and Quinn. It’s the equivalent of a freshman hooking up with a senior and you feel icky. 

Regardless, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He likes to twirl his fork between his fingers when he’s done eating dinner. He’ll spread his legs and sit forward when he’s playing video games with his brothers. An absent-minded, crooked smile falls on his mouth every time he’s only half-listening to you or the other boys. It’s paired with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as warm and content. In twenty-four hours, you’ve noticed more things about Luke than you’ve ever seen before. 

He’s grown up. It’s still a little weird to you, but he’s 21. You’re still 24, even though your 25th birthday is slowly creeping forward. You find yourself justifying the three year age gap, persuading yourself that it’s fine to look at Luke like that, but then you catch yourself and look away. You’re pushing the idea out of your brain.

But he’s goofy, and cute, and so sweet. He’s the same Luke as always, but you’re seeing him in a brand new way.

You’re able to keep yourself at bay for over a week. The boys throw a party and invite some girls over. Normally, you’re not jealous. You’re calm. You don’t care. 

Across the room, there’s a girl flirting with Luke. She’s got a hand on his arm and you’re nursing a drink, seeing red. You’re using Jack as a shield, but you’re still able to look over his shoulder. You think you’re being slick, but it turns out… you’re not.

“What are you looking at?” Jack laughs, tilting his head at you exaggeratedly before turning.

Unfortunately, you know you’ve been found out. There’s only one thing that would have you glowering in such a way. Nothing else in sight is nearly as interesting as Luke and the girl beside him. Jack clocks it right away.

He turns back to you with a tight, knowing smile, like he’s trying to hold back laughter. He pushes his tongue into his cheek and quirks his eyebrows at you. 

“Interesting,” Jack says, swirling his drink in his solo cup and then bringing the rim to his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he sips. 

You pop the bottom of the cup, making the drink splash into Jack’s face. “Fuck off.”

He wipes his mouth and crosses his arms, cradling the drink in the pocket of his elbow. “You and little Lukey?”

You grind your teeth and glare at him in the most menacing way you can. Jack has known you for too long to be intimidated by your glares. He also never really cared that much in the first place– he’s too shit-eating to be concerned about the repercussions of his words.

Jack smirks some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, popping his jaw like he’s turning a piece of gum over in his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You clench your teeth and continue glaring. You suck your cheeks in and bite down on the inside of your mouth, lips curling with annoyance. 

“You know, he wouldn’t mind if you went over there and staked your claim,” Jack says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he’d be upset at all.”

“Fuck off,” you repeat again. 

“C’mon, Y/N.” Jack pushes your shoulder lightly, jokingly. “You’re being obvious.”

“Quinn’ll kill me. And– it’s Luke, Jack.”

“So what? It’s not weird. We all grew up together. We’re all around the same age. It’s not a big deal. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It’s different,” you sing-song. “He’s younger than me.”

“Let’s go, Cougar,” Jack teases, reaching up to high-five you. 

You don’t take it, instead deciding to punch his stomach. 

Jack doubles over like you actually wounded him, but straightens up smiling. “You oughta go make him jealous.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Let’s go flirt with Trevor or something. Someone who Luke thinks you’re better than– I guarantee he’ll be over here in a second.”

Jack actually tugs you toward Trevor and explains the plan before you can even get a word in. So much for keeping your secret. Trevor, to his credit, is a very willing subject. He keeps a hand on your waist during the whole conversation and you do your best to ignore the niggling desire to look over your shoulder at Luke. 

Turns out, you should’ve been worried about Quinn.

“Get your hands off her, Zegras,” Quinn snaps, pushing Trevor’s hand off of your waist and stepping between you. “You’re not allowed to fuck my friend.”

If that’s how he feels about one of his friends touching you, then you feel a bit faint at the idea of Quinn’s reaction to Luke getting together with you. That might seal the deal– you really can’t fuck Luke.

“I’m not fucking her,” Trevor says. “We’re working an angle here, Quinn.”

Quinn scoffs. “Yeah? What angle is that, Trevor?”

“We’re trying to make Luke jealous, hello?” Trevor says like it’s obvious. 

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face in your hands. “Trevor, you fucking moron.”

“What?” Quinn demands, but his look turns into sheer bewilderment. “You’re doing this for Luke?”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, stomping away. 

Trevor, somehow, is free to follow after you. Quinn hasn’t stepped in to stop him. You wish he would. He’s probably too confused. “This is good,” he says. “He’s definitely going to see us going upstairs together. Hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Dude, it was working. Luke was looking over at us the whole time.”

“I don’t care, Trevor.”

“Don’t you want him?”

“Not like that,” you hiss between your teeth. “I don’t want to make Luke jealous. I want him to come to me because he wants to, okay? Go downstairs. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trevor holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You disappear into your bedroom, changing into pajamas and climbing into bed. It’s nice to have your own bedroom in the lake house that Jack and Quinn bought with their NHL salaries, but tonight it’s bittersweet to be able to hear the party going on as you lay in bed. It’s not at all like when you fall asleep during a holiday party and your parents put you to bed, and you can still hear the laughter of the guests in your dreams. Now each bout of laughter reminds you of her, the girl whose hand was on Luke like she already owned him, and you wonder if he’s making her giggle with his stupid corny jokes.

God, last week you didn’t even like Luke. Now you’re burning with jealousy– or maybe it’s the fires from Hell, because you’ve got a completely inappropriate crush on your best friend’s little brother. You can never come back to the lake house like this, at least not until you’ve gotten over this shit. Why are you so affected? It’s Luke, for fuck’s sake.

It’s Luke again when someone comes knocking at your door. You thought it would be Quinn, ready to chew you out or question you extensively about this crush. To your surprise, the problem himself appears. 

“You okay?” Luke asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. His silhouette is burly and big and you have to close your eyes to shake the pang of emotion that penetrates your chest.

“Just tired,” you reply quietly. “Couldn’t stomach the party anymore.”

“Did Trevor say something to upset you?”

Quieter: “No, Luke.”

He hovers silently. You can hear the cogs in his brain turning. His pitch matches yours when he speaks next, although his tone is much more melancholic than despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

You hesitate for a second too long. You’re not mad, but you’re certainly taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. “No, Luke,” you say again, but this time the pang that goes through your chest is more familiar. You don’t want to upset him. You’ve always wanted to protect Luke from the world, but now you’ve made him unsure and insecure. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Luke asks, and you have to take a shaky breath. He sounds so small. It’s like the time that you didn’t let him ride bikes with you and Quinn to the store, even though he begged, and then he cried and ran to his mom. After seeing Luke’s puffy red eyes and resolute determination to ignore you for the rest of the night, your soda and candy bar didn’t taste as good. In fact, they tasted a bit like cardboard. You ended up throwing half of the bar away and going home early. You swore you’d never make sweet little Luke feel that way again.

“You wouldn’t get it, I don’t think,” you tell him quietly, pushing yourself up in bed and resting on your elbows. You take a deep breath and look at him, sure that he can see the way your chest rises and falls. 

Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see the way Luke’s mouth opens, as if to say something, then closes with a shake of his head. You notice his eyes fluttering towards the corner of your room, removing you from his line of vision. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Luke says, biting his lower lip in a dejected and heartbreaking way. “I get it. I’ll go.”

“Luke,” you sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t wanna talk to me,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not friends like that. I’m not Quinn.”

“Luke.” You push yourself up further, pushing the covers down and criss-crossing your legs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s always that. And if it’s not that, then it’s that I’m not Jack. I just– I don’t want to hear that from you.” Luke shrugs again, always defaulting to that motion when he’s deflecting because he’s big and awkward and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As if he’s thinking the same thing, you watch him shove his fists in his pockets and keep his shoulders tense.

“Come here,” you request, head tilted and mouth turned down with sadness. You shift your position so that both of your knees are under you and you’re sitting back on your heels. “Luke, please.”

You hold your arms out for a hug, not for the first time in your life, and Luke shuffles over. He takes his time and he refuses to meet your eyes, just stooping down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. It’s a weird position, given that you’re kneeling on the bed and he’s half-bent over. You can feel the pout and doubt all over Luke’s face, so you reach a hand up to his curls and run your thumb over one of his more perfect spirals. He’s letting it grow out a bit and you like how messy it looks.

“Jack told me something,” you reveal softly, still petting through his hair. Luke stiffens in your arms, but doesn’t pull away. “He said you like me.”

Luke groans and struggles in your grip, even sinking to his knees to try and get out of your grasp. He’s kneeling beside the bed, and you bring your legs around so that he’s situated between them. You keep a hand on his shoulder, the other still playing with his hair. He’s evading your eyes again, looking stoutly at the floor.

“I have feelings for you, too,” you whisper, the admission feeling heavy and wrong and like a knife to the gut. Admittance is the first step, but you just feel silly. “And I don’t really know how to deal with those. You’re– I’ve known you since we were so little, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luke says bluntly, a hint of a complaint in his sentence. “You’ve been acting weird because you like me, too?”

“I was upset that there was a pretty girl talking to you,” you say sheepishly. “And I just didn’t want to go along with Jack’s plan. He wanted to make you jealous. Thought that would work.”

“I’m always jealous when you talk to another guy,” Luke tells you like it’s obvious. “I just, kind of, gave up. I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me. I thought I’d get over it. Stupid childhood crush, you know.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding that you yourself just experienced a similar line of thinking. You said you’d get over it, but you don’t really want to. Not right now, at least, when Luke’s sitting in front of you and he’s got a tentative hand on your calf, rubbing his thumb over the muscle and staring up at you with big eyes. You bite your lip, trying to think logically about this, but all you can do is examine Luke’s features like you’ll never get to see them again. Maybe you won’t– not like this. Not in this liminal space between something and nothing. This is one of those moments that you know won’t last– because the next one will change everything. So, for a moment longer, you just reach out and run your thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, eyes flickering between his cheek, his lips, and his eyes. 

“What do we–” Luke loses his words and presses his lips together, looking up at you, expression completely tortured. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, which makes your heart split a bit more.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You wish you had a better answer for him. You truly aren’t sure what you can do from here. There are too many things to consider– so you won’t consider them at all.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Luke asks. 

A fond burst of laughter escapes from your chest. “Lukey, this is a twin bed. We can’t both fit.”

A pout comes over Luke’s face again. “We can too,” he insists, furrowing his brow a bit. “I’ll prove it. Move over.”

He’s climbing into your bed before you can tell him no. His long and spindly limbs are coaxing you to lay back, then warming you as he holds you tight. It’s a tight squeeze, but that just means that you’re touching him everywhere. It’s nice and you suddenly wish you were facing him, so you roll awkwardly in his arms until you’re face to face. Your noses are nearly touching and Luke is staring at you, really taking you in. 

Your eyes find his lips… and then he’s leaning in.

It’s charged with tension and electricity, but it’s soft and hesitant. Neither of you want to test the boundaries and you don’t think this feels quite real. Your stomach is swooping with bats, not butterflies, and it’s exactly what you wanted. This is what you expected when you found yourself imagining kissing Luke this past week, even if you shook yourself out of it because it felt inappropriate. Here, it feels so right that you swear you could start crying from relief. You’ve never felt that way before from just a kiss. Your chest could burst.

When he pulls away, you feel frozen in time. Your eyes are closed and his lips are right there, a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, touching his chest, palm flat. 

“Was that okay?” Luke asks.

You nod, then slide your lips over his again. 

You come together in a way that can’t be described as anything other than desperate. Your hands touch him in any way they can and Luke’s do the same. You move in tandem like you’ve got a language of your own– an indignant hum from you followed by a sweet “I know” from Luke before he touches you exactly the way you want.

Kissing the whole time, Luke gets you on your back. Your lips only part to remove your shirt, then his. Luke’s big hand cradles your jaw and neck, keeping your head and mouth exactly where he wants them. He guides you with a surprising amount of experience and sureness, although maybe he’s fueled by the same feeling of rightness as you are.

He opens you on his other hand, snaking his hand into your pajamas shorts because he can’t be bothered to remove them. His hips roll against your thigh, his long torso displacing your pelvis from his as he kisses you. He’s big– you knew it height-wise, but now you can feel him against your leg, and you want him to fill you. You want him to claim you, to take you– you want to give all of yourself to Luke. It’s madness and though you’re sure you’ve lost your mind, the crack in your chest that pours out love for Luke has taken control of your body.

After three fingers and a lot of whimpering from you, clutches at Luke’s hair and bruising kisses working in tandem with your noises, Luke works your shorts down. He breaks from your lips so that he can take you in beneath him. He touches your waist and the curve of your stomach, the one that you cringed at for so many years as a teen but finally accepted in your grown age. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, eyes portraying nothing but sincerity.

You can’t say anything to that, nothing that can match his utterly genuine sentiment or portray how grateful you are that he took the time to say those words, so you kiss him again. You muster up an embarrassingly wanton ‘please,’ which you draw across his lips like a paintbrush. 

You can’t get enough of saying his name as he presses into you, his heavy body blanketing yours. You can feel his every muscle move as he works into you and you’ve never felt more like a masterpiece. There were times when you made fun of the phrase ‘making love,’ but sex with Luke feels intensely like you’re creating something tangible by coming together in this way. 

The moans and cries that you’re trying to stifle so that no one comes barging in should be enough to convince Luke that this is everything to you. Sweet, sweet Luke– he seems choked up when he says, “They can’t fuck you like I can.” He says the sentence like he has to prove it to you, like you’re not falling apart under his touch. He pleads with you between the words, in the spaces where you can see his breath hitch in his throat.

You’re still not sure where this night will leave you tomorrow morning. Everything, everything has turned on its head. Somehow, you feel a bit like you’ve been leading up to this for a while, not just in the past week. Luke knew it before you did.

“No,” you agree, touching his cheeks and keeping his eyes on yours. “They can’t.” You kiss him briefly, feeling his tongue swipe into your mouth before you pull away. “I’m yours.”

Luke actually keens at that, his arms straining as he shifts his weight to fuck into you harder. Because you’re so close, the bed isn’t moving enough to bang against the walls or creak on its boxsprings, and you’re glad. This is a moment for just you and Luke– you don’t want anyone hearing. You don’t want anyone to be around. You hope that they’ve all miraculously disappeared and you and Luke are the last people in the house, maybe even on Earth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Luke repeats, his forehead meeting yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale, his breath automatically syncing with yours. You’re overwhelmed, but deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice reminding you about an ancient tradition in Polynesian culture where forehead-to-forehead contact and breathing together is sacred, like you’re sharing the breath of life– like there’s some power in the universe, a god or many, clicking things into place.

He unravels first, fucking you through his release with urgence akin to the sentence he said before. Always trying to prove himself– but Luke has always been enough for you. Maybe not always in this way, but now, there’s nothing he can do to shake your favor. All of the feelings in your heart have been poured out, shared and mixed with his own, and it’s created a puddle– or a bubble– around the pair of you. 

It’s been written that sex is when two people come together as one. You finally understand what they mean, joining Luke in the seas of ecstasy.

Sweet nothings and touches like worship follow. Your hands can’t get enough of Luke’s strong figure. He runs his fingertips along your body like he’s in awe of your figure, like he gets to touch a statue so lifelike and beautiful that he can’t believe it was ever a block of marble at all. 

The concerns about what will happen tomorrow don’t exist here, in your dark bedroom with Luke stuck to you like glue. For now, it’s just you. Together, breathing, touching, loving– there’s nothing else that could matter. This is it.

note: i have to work on my grad school app in the coming days, so this will probably be the last blurb/oneshot until i finish the application. but, i might get bored of writing that and could pop in to do another smut piece here and there ;) hopefully i'll chat with y'all soon! but i don't want to rush this grad school app LOL

[fckmebarnes]

Bucky’s reaction to finding out you’re not wearing underwear? Especially in public?

i got carried away… 18+!!!

he would have you cockwarm him <333 oh god he’d turn feral the second he feels exposed pussy under a skirt you’re wearing

“oh, babydoll..” he purrs softly in your ear from behind, the two of you sitting out on a blanket in the park and you’re in his lap

you have some food spread out, a book or two opened and a laptop to watch something if you two so desired

he desired you

his fingers trail up the sides of your thighs and you’re thanking the lucky stars that your view is of a lake surrounded by trees, mid afternoon and not a person for miles that you knew of

it meant he could take full advantage of you

“what’s a such a pretty little thing doing out here with a man like me, no panties on, hm?” his right hand is trailing soft touches up to your hip, his left metal hair digging into your other and keeping you in place

you bat your eyelashes and feign innocence. you love playing this game with him. “i don’t know sir i, must’ve gotten lost…” you bite your lip as you look at him, his eyes darkening

“well it’s so good that you stumbled upon me, hm? i can keep you safe…” his middle finger trails lighting over your mound before diving a bit deeper in between your thighs. you could feel yourself dripping down on to the blanket and bbucky’s hard cock pressed against you

he chuckles as his middle finger finds your wet hole, flicking the tip of his finger slowly, enough to get you riled up and the sound of your pussy making noises.

“fuck,” he starts, nosing his face into your neck and kissing it gently. he pushes his middle finger into your hole, his thumb pressed firmly against your clit. you let out a gasp, the stretch small bit enough to make your brain fuzzy and want more. “you’re already ready for me, huh?”

you felt embarrassed how wet you had gotten from the time you had gotten ready to leave up until he found out you didn’t have anything on. you were more than ready for his fingers and cock

you let out a small whine with a little nod. his left hand leaves your hip before it finds its home around your neck, pressing firmly. “what was that, baby?” he asks, stern voice making you shiver.

“yes, sir…been ready for you…” you let out a breathy moan as you feel your cunt throb with the added pressure around your neck. you trusted bucky, and he only wanted to make you feel good. and he was doing just that

“good girl.” he praises, and you feel a rush of pride flow through you. you whimper softly as his fingers loosen around your neck, before pushing a second finger into your wet hole. you let out a soft moan, head falling back on his shoulder and he smiles against your neck.

“so warm, so tight…” he mumbles gently, and you feel him starting to rut his hips against your from behind. your brain felt fuzzy, feeling his hard he was up against you made you need him even more

“bucky..” you gasp softly, hands dinging their way to his clothed thighs, almost trying to claw him out of them. he chuckles behind you, knowing exactly what you were trying to so desperately do

“beg for it, baby.” he’s firm with his voice and his thumb against your clit, his fingers curling deep inside you as he pumps them slowly. he scissors them open, making sure to stretch you out for whet you needed most

“please i…” you let out a soft gasp as you feel his teeth nip your neck, biting softly.

“please, what? use your words, come on baby. be a good girl and tell daddy what you need.” he presses a gentle kiss against your neck before biting the sensitive skin again and sucking on the spot gently.

“i…need your cock, please daddy…” he lets out a low groan, grip tightening on you as you moan out his name to the added pressure. he mumbles a soft ‘good girl’ before he rips away from you and pushing you forward gently — just enough to unzip his pants and free his cock

you hear his groan behind you, the sound of his hand fisting his cock and spreading the pre cum. you licked your lips as you felt your hole clenching around nothing, dripping a spot on the blanket

“c’mere babydoll.” he grunts softly as he grips your hips and slides you on his lap. the tip of his cock pushes into your hole before you slowly slick down his shaft

you both let out moans, gripping each other as he fills you, and he can feel how stretched out you’re getting — how much wetter you’re getting just at him being stuffed in you.

you let out another moan as you bottomed out on his cock and he let out a low moan, pulling you closer to him before grabbing a book and handing it to you.

“be a good girl and read to me, hm? make sure to be loud enough that no one can hear how i’m fucking your wet pussy, okay?”

[livwritessometimes]

At Least One Of Us Got Our Happy Ending

: Part 15 (Lando's Version)

: Spring Fling is finally here…that’s a good thing right?

: Prev | Next

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - You can refer to Interesting *Cue Evil Laugh* to get the context for a certain part.

…

As Y/n and Lando watched Oscar pull his girl in for a kiss, she couldn't help but join some of their friends in hooting for the new couple. It was nice to see Oscar finally be with the girl he'd madly been head-over-heels for—Y/n could recall countless conversations they'd had about this. Smiling at the scene, she felt Lando pull her close to him, his hand resting on her waist.

"Should we get back to the table?" Asked Lando

Looking away from the scene in front of her, Y/n nodded at him and started leading him to their table.

There sat Max, one of Lando's friends who he constantly played games with, and his date.

Taking a seat, Y/n said, "It's so nice to see Oscar finally be happy."

"It is! I'm glad he came today," Lando said, looking at Oscar.

Max laughed to himself, leaning back against the chair he said, "I guess it's nice when things work out the way they're supposed to, huh?" He said, looking at Lando.

Lando narrowed his eyes at Max, "Max..." He said in a warning tone.

Confused by the exchange Y/n asked, "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

Max shrugged casually, taking a sip from the flask he had snuck in, "Oh, it's just funny how it all started you know? I just didn't think you guys would actually make it," Max finished.

Lando could feel his heart beating faster, "Max," He said again this time with hint of anger.

Y/n couldn't help but tense up, looking between Lando and Max. "What does he mean by 'How it started' Lando?" She asked.

"Oh nothing, you know how I am, I love to talk nonsense," Max said realizing that he might have said a little too much.

"Lando...What does he mean by that?" Y/n asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando sighed deeply, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. He felt angry—angry at Max for opening his mouth when it was not needed, angry at himself for agreeing to do such a stupid thing.

"Y/n..." He started, his voice hesitant. Reaching out for her hand, he said, "It wasn't supposed to mean anything...I had no idea that I would actually fall in love..." He said. He could see the dread wash over Y/n's eyes.

*flashback*

*present*

Y/n felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. All hope and dreams for an amazing night disappeared in an instant. She sat there in silence as she let Lando's words sink in.

"So I was just a 'Dare'?" She asked, still in disbelief.

Lando avoided her gaze, his throat feeling dry. "I—I never imagined that it would turn into this," He said. "At first, it was just a stupid dare, I was just angry about the complaint, but I never thought that..." Lando's voice trailed off. He was not sure what he could say or do to make any of it sound better.

Y/n could feel her eyes sting with tears, "So does that mean all this time, every single conversation we've had, every single moment we've spent together...It was all just a game to you?" Y/n said as tears trickled down her face.

"No!," Lando said suddenly, a little too loud for his liking. He tried to reach out for her hand, but she pulled away, "I didn't mean for it to be like that. It was just a dare at the start, I admit, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that I just couldn't continue. I was going to tell you, I swear Y/n," Lando said. "I just didn't know how...." He trailed off again.

"So if you hadn't "fallen in love" with me, would you have still gone through with your plan?" Y/n asked, her voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

Lando opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn't have an answer. Deep down, he knew that no answer would make things right. The damage had already been done.

Y/n stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Congrats!" She spat, her voice filled with bitterness. "You've won your stupid dare. I really hope it was worth it Lando," she said as she started walking towards the exit.

"Y/n please wait!" Lando pleaded.

"NO!" Y/n said, finally letting go of the emotions she had been holding onto till now. "Don't you dare follow me. You've lost the right to do that," she said, her voice cracking at the end.

And with that, she made her way out of the hall, taking Lando's heart with every step she took.

…

Tags: @regalbanshee | @be-your-coffee-pot | @mrsbrxkkxr | @princessria127 | @moonraysandstars | @prettiest-at-the-party | @theblueblub | @magixpracticality | @slytherinholland | @overlyexcitedoutlaw | @marvel-at-stucky | @crumbssss | @a-beaverhausen | @felicityforyou | @gigigreens | @jas0nluvr | @khaylin27 | @imsiriuslyreal | @cwiphswmwasohmm | @wobblymug | @e-nonsense | @raizelchrysanderoctavius | @papaya-twinks | @vintagefucksstuff | @st4rg1rln | @redstappen | @iamred-iamyellow | @tashisgf | @ghost-of-student-sufferings | @saachiep81 | @lozzamez3 | @ravisinghs-wife | @elizamoe133 | @anthonylockwoodandco111 | @formulaal | @luvsforme | @annabellelee | @a-disturbing-self-reflection | @emryb | @grovelingmen | @illicit-affcirs | @iwilleatyourgod | @youre-on-your-ownkid | @originaldreamerdragon | @landorris | @mountvesuvu | @chezmardybum | @littlegrapejuice | @spitesfvl-blog | @juleshadalittlelamb | @vicurious28 | @niyu2208 |

[eimearkuopio]

I didn't know it was a trilogy of songs until just before I lost my head. I put the first and third ones on my playlist for Catholicism.

(That one is for former enemies. Not the church as a whole, but there's at least one person this very much applies to.)

And of course the absolute banger released with perfect timing that I hope every senior religious person in the world gets to hear on a loop:

As for me? Another perfectly timed release of a banger:

Rambling about past month or so behind the cut.

Nobody else believed I would come back from what I was going through the whole time. But for me, I'd been through worse before with much less support. I once spent a month hiding in my brother's apartment playing video games and eating take-out. I'd lost too many people too fast to do anything else. I spent a month in second year of undergrad completely fallen apart, and nobody noticed - or if they noticed, they couldn't find a way to help that wasn't haranguing me into studying. People are amazed that I'm doing so much better in "so little" time, and it's because they never noticed how fucked up I always was. In their eyes, I was too perfect to have disabilities, to need extra support. My husband loves me enough to have held out hope that I could get better, because he knew full well that I was always a mess under the skin. I'm so grateful for him. He's the reason I bothered sticking around. And it fucking sucks that I'm still a mess, but I'm going to keep trying. For him. For us. We're worth it. But how did the whole world fail to pull through when I worked hard so to come back to it? Is this the best the world can do? I never have to feel responsible for the fate of the world again, because whatever I was supposed to do, I did to the best of my ability, and now I just need to do my best for me and my special loved ones. But I can't understand why the world turned out the way it did. People didn't think we would make it this far, and I can't understand why history keeps repeating itself...

Watch this guy who just played Portal for the first time absolutely lose his mind at the end credits song

[rookinthecrownest]

Some Updated Thoughts on Lucanis' Romance (Both Positive & Constructive)

I want to make this as balanced and as reasonable a take as I can. I'll put everything under the cut and tag as critical so you don't have to engage with it/see it if you don't want to.

As usual, these are just my opinions. If you really enjoyed Lucanis' romance, none of what I'm about to say is meant to dissuade you from that. I'm happy for you!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. There were parts of it that I absolutely loved too, and I hope I'll do that justice with this post so it doesn't come across as hate. Because I don't hate his romance, I just think there was some places where it could have been fleshed out a bit more.

If you want to engage in discussion with the more critical aspects of this post, my only request is you do so respectfully.

Positives

I'd like to start on a good note by detailing the aspects of his romance that I really liked. There are a few places where I think they did a great job with his romance.

Party Banter & Codex Entries

Although meant to be supplemental material to the story, I think they do a really good job at helping the slow-burn aspect of his romance they were going for. There's one codex entry that goes something along the lines of 'It is not an hour lost, but an hour found' and that is one of my favourite codex entries....ever. It's such a short entry but so meaningful and shows you a lot about his character. You get this profound sense of just how much Rook means to him with this one line.

His party banter once you're in a relationship is also very sweet. I didn't get a lot of it, but what I did get was lovely. Especially when he admits to Neve that Rook is good for him and makes him smile. There's another line about how he doesn't know what Rook sees in him, but he's happy they're with him which is super sweet. Telling Emmrich how Rook is his first relationship? Adorable.

Everything about the party banter and codex entries did a good job of giving us more insight into how his character is dealing with things, when it's not explicitly shown to us in cutscenes (We'll come back to this later). It helps form a more complete picture of the way they wanted to handle this romance in general.

Relationship Cutscenes

There's a few scenes throughout the romance that I enjoyed a lot.

The scene with Illario at Cafe Pietra and the talk of first kisses and kisses goodbye was very cute and well done. It really did feel like a coffee date haha.

The almost-kiss scene was also amazing. The confident stride towards Rook, the wall-lean, his facial expression when he pulls away. You can feel how much he wants it, but something in the back of his mind (whether it's him, or Spite) pulls him away at the last second? I loved that. I'm actually super glad they didn't kiss here. The pull away made for great tension (I'm going to come back to why this is important later).

His line about Rook breaking apart his 'perfectly gathered clouds of doom' was beautiful, and one of my favourite lines in the game.

Although there could have been more to it, his romance lock-in scene with him baking dessert for Rook is also sweet and shows his romantic side and thoughtfulness.

The ending scene of the romance, after Rook comes out of the Fade Prison, is some of my favourite romance scenes in any Bioware game. Any game, period. It was so incredibly well done. From the writing, to the dialogue, to the facial expressions - absolutely everything was perfect. The wings coming out, the fade to black, the banter about falling asleep and playing cards with Spite? Lovely. All absolutely lovely. 10/10, no notes.

His dialogue about killing any god to keep Rook safe is very sweet/romantic. How he wants Rook to tell them this all ends with him asleep in their arms. How Rook's voice is a comfort. This was SO beautiful.

All in all, in some places, I feel that they did achieve the slow burn they wanted with his romance. Even excelled at it, really.

Constructive Criticism

I'm just going to re-iterate that while this section may be longer than the positives, it comes from a place of love rather than just wanting to hate for the sake of hating. I've been a fan of this character ever since I picked up Tevinter Nights, and was looking forward to his romance the most.

The Neve Situation

I'm going to get this one out of the way first because it's probably one of the more.... contentious points in this discussion.

Besties, I need you all to hold my hand so tightly as I say this, but absolutely none of my frustration with the Neve/Lucanis thing is to be construed as hate towards Neve. In fact, I love Neve. I've been a fan of her since she appeared in the comics. I loved her in Tevinter Nights. I love her in the game, I can't wait to romance her. I don't have a problem with these two characters getting together if Rook is not romancing either of them. That being said, there are a few things about his interactions with Neve if romanced by Rook that I can see why they would rub people the wrong way (and why they rub me the wrong way a little bit too).

-Neve and Lucanis can still flirt after Lucanis is locked into a romance with Rook. This is a pretty big oversight from the devs. Its no secret that characters will romance each other if not in a romance with the player character. It happened in DA2 with Fenris/Isabela, in DAI with Josephine/Blackwall, Sera/Dagna, and Bull/Dorian. In ME, I believe it happens with Garrus and Tali as well. So, I don't think the simple fact that they can get together is really what's bothering people.

Importantly, unlike previous games, once the player character is locked into a romance with the other party, the LI doesn't flirt with other companions. I think if the devs had locked the flirting once Lucanis is locked in with romance, much of this conversation wouldn't even be happening.

DATV is a role-playing game. Nothing would take someone out of a role-playing game faster than their love-interest being flirty with another companion - and understandably so. It just feels...icky? Like your player character is getting in the way of a ship the writers wanted. I don't think it's unreasonable for someone to not want to feel like a third wheel in their own romance.

-In Lucanis' mind-prison quest, even if he's romanced by Rook, Neve will still appear. The way Spite describes her seems to imply he still has some sort of romantic feelings for her. Which.... yikes (but this may also just be the way I read his line). If he's not romanced by Rook, Neve being here would make sense. There's not even a mention about Rook in a note or anything. Spite has one line about Rook opening doors and not closing them but that's about it. There's no special romance reactivity in this scene, even though it happens pretty late in the game and after the romance-lock in. Afterwards, he says he trusts you with his thoughts, which is sweet. But this should have been in the cutscene - not skippable banter at the LightHouse.

Set Up & Pay-off

This is a fundamental aspect of storytelling I'm sure you're all familiar with. The classic Chekov's gun. Don't set up something you don't plan to pay off.

Let's go back to the almost-kiss. They set up some fantastic romantic tension here. If you go see Lucanis again after this scene, I think he has a line along the lines of "I'm sorry Rook... I can't ..." But that's all we get. And the almost-kiss isn't really addressed again. Actually I wouldn't even call this being addressed in the first place, because if you wait too long to see him after that cutscene it may not trigger in the first place. This is probably the most egregious example of wasted set up with no pay off. There's no discussion about it. There's no cutscene of Lucanis talking to another companion, or even having some kind of internal monologue about it.

Another example of set up & pay-off is after confronting Illario. Lucanis says he has a plan to celebrate instead of sticking around at the party.

Cut to him drinking coffee by himself back at the Lighthouse.

Rook & Lucanis could have sneaked off to Cafe Pietra, or gone walking in the Treviso market. Or hell, taken the Gondola ride that was in the concept art. Or kissed in the rain under an awning. (I'm never getting over that concept art they showed us...)

The conversation about sparing Illario, how he doesn't want to lose what he has left, including Rook, is fine. But I feel this was another wasted opportunity.

The romance lock-in scene is another example of a missed opportunity/failed set-up. It doesn't even feel like a romance lock-in to a lot of people. If so many players think their game is bugged because that's how you lock in the romance, I think there's a problem. You go from almost kissing to a full on relationship. There is so much that can happen in between that (none of which has to be physical intimacy btw) which could have helped make the lock in scene make more sense. It's the same scene as the one with Neve - but almost...done worse?

Having coffee with Spite & Lucanis. This one is more a writing issue. At the end of the scene he stands awkwardly next to Rook and says, "Whatever this is, I'll take it" and I couldn't help but feel... the writers really just didn't know what they wanted to accomplish with this scene. 'Whatever this is' could have been 'I don't know what this is yet or what to call it, but whatever it is, I want to see it through with you' or something along those lines. Astarion actually says something similar in one of his romance scenes, but he holds your hand, looks at Tav earnestly, and says "Honestly, I don't know what we're doing. But this...this is nice..". He doesn't put a name to the relationship either, but it's the way he says it and how it's conveyed that make it a more effective scene.

He's been imprisoned for a year. He was made into an abomination. He doesn't sleep. He's dealing with PTSD probably. He's a romantic at heart but needs to learn to trust again. It makes sense that he's not overly flirty with Rook, and the romance isn't very physical. This is all FINE.

BUT.

While I listed the codex entries & party banter as a positive (because I do like it), I feel that they leaned too heavily on that for the romance.

Let's contrast Lucanis' romance to Cullen's romance in DAI. After all, Cullen has also gone through some pretty traumatic shit and is literally struggling with Lyrium addiction when you meet him in Inquisition. I want you to remove all of Cullen's side-banter about the inquisitor, all party banter about their relationship, and all the codex entries. When you watch the cutscenes of his romance in order, you are still left with a solid romance. If you're a mage, you even get some heartbreaking mage-specific dialogue about whether or not he'd cut you down if you ever become an abomination.... And I'm getting off topic here, sorry.

My point is, these things are meant to be extra. They are not supposed to be the way you piece together bits of your own relationship and a substitute for companion interaction. And here is where I think DATV's choice not to let you randomly talk to your companions really hurts it as a game.

Romance Reactivity

There's a few points in the game where romance-specific dialogue would have really helped solidify things.

No, I don't mean flirting. I mean dialogue that reads like he's struggling with building the relationship - not bulldozing right past it. It makes the romance-specific dialogue wheel options feel rather useless.

One example is during one of his personal quests, Rook says

"I'm still here aren't I"

No facial reaction, "We need to talk about Illario"

You can see how this is a bit ... jarring, right? Like you may as well have not even picked the romance-specific dialogue? There's a few instances of this, but that one is just the one I can recall off the top of my head. When I pick the romance-specific dialogue wheel in Bioware games, there's always something about the response from the other character that indicates something more might be going on - it could be something as simple as a nervous smile, or an extra line of dialogue, or hell, maybe they flirt back (although with Lucanis I understand why he wouldn't).

If you're not going to show romance reactivity with Rook, give us a scene with Lucanis where we understand why. Show him fumbling to do something nice for them. Show him pacing and wondering if Rook is really into him. Show him struggling against Spite, if he's worried Spite will hurt Rook. Don't just tell us through codex entries. Show us.

Miscellaneous Sentiments & Final Thoughts

On the whole, I genuinely feel like Lucanis has the least content out of all the companions. Maybe it's because they laid off Courtney Woods & Mary Kirby, maybe there's another reason. I don't know. But so often I found myself going back to the Lighthouse wanting to talk to Lucanis but there's no little indicator thingy for him. But every time I go back Davrin, Harding, Bellara, etc. all have something to say.

We should have had an opportunity to delve a little bit more into his relationship with his family, unpacked the stuff with Caterina & Illario a bit more, and unpacked him being made First Talon. Which, if you read Tevinter Nights, you know he actually doesn't want the job. If they weren't going to include it as a cutscene, then extra dialogue (a-la-Inquisition) would have been a good place to fit that in.

On the whole, I still like aspects of his romance. I'm looking forward to romancing him again. I just feel that the romance could have benefitted from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes. If I can go on 1000 walks in the forest with Davrin and Assan, I should be able to have a real conversation with Lucanis about the relationship, his hangups about it, and try and work through it.

Keep the almost-kiss in there. An extra kiss before the finale would have been fine, but not necessary. What was necessary, imo, is a whooole lot of buildup throughout the course of Act 2 so it doesn't feel like you're getting whiplash in Act 3 when you do kiss and have the implied sex scene.

I think the concept art that was recently released feels like a gut punch to us Lucanis fans. Because it shows that Bioware had the skeleton of a great romance, and chose to axe nearly all of it.

It really feels like they didn't quite know what to do with his character and romance and just said 'put it all in the codex and banter and let them figure it out for themselves'.

Quick Notes

The argument that we should 'run to AO3' to fix our issues with the narrative, to me, is unproductive. Fanfiction should supplement the source material, not act as a replacement for good storytelling.

I don't think telling people to headcanon a majority of a romance they were looking forward to is helpful either. Headcanon is not supposed to replace storytelling either.

Boiling down the criticisms of Lucanis' romance to 'you just want more steam/sex/etc' is also unhelpful. Maybe it's just who I follow, but I have barely seen anyone (on here or reddit) state that this is their main problem with the romance.

Okay, that's it!

Bye!

[gravegoer]

Take a hint.

sevika x oblivious!reader ♡ PART 1 [feel free to send requests, asks etc! i respond to everything :) + i defo need to make a badass reader x sevika to make up 4 this > i write for ALL of age characters smut is fine]

PART 2 HERE

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• How could you have possibly made it this far all by your lonesome in the undercity?? Almost oblivious to anyones advances, threats etc. Your last minute judgement has to have come in clutch many times.

• Having said that; obviously sevika is going to raise an eyebrow as you walk past her,

• She sat in her booth, playing a game of poker with two conspicuous-looking men (to say the least.) A cigarillo hung from her thick lips and smoke puffed out of her nose as she glanced up.

• A man follows you (cocky fella) spewing nonsense about how he so badly wanted to get to know you and how "you should come grab a drink with me, all on my tab sweetheart."

• She shook her head; this didn't snag her attention, as the man was a regular, always harassing the prettiest woman he could find at the bar. What did snag her attention was your response.

• "Oh...sure! Why not ?" You laughed, undoubtedly carefree and unaware of the man's advances. Now this THIS is what made her lips curl downward into a sneer.

• How could someone be so stupid. Seriously. What part about this guy didnt scream "creep." Were there not flashing red lights going off in your head telling you to turn the other way and make a run for it?

•Although this wasnt normally the kind of thing she bothered to pay attention to she continued to keep an eye on you as you walked toward the bar with him.

• However, the game of cards draws her attention away from the two of you. The man to her right groans at her card selection before shuffling through his.

• This was going to be another easy cash night huh. She thought, her eyes wandering back to where you sat. The man next to you now a bit too close for comfort.

• "I dont see you 'round here often missy" The man drawls, smirking at you. His fingers traced the rim of your glass slowly, barely missing your fingertips.

• "Yeah im...im not around here often.. tonight jus- " You were cut off by his hand on yours.

• "A pretty lady shouldnt be out at night all by 'er self, who knows what might snag 'er up, yeah?" His grip on yours was just a bit too tight.

• "Thats true..I was going to head home soon anyways. Thank you for your concern." You half smiled at him, now feeling the uncomfortable tension between you.

• The man took your smile as a green light to do whatever the fuck he wants and he leans in closer to your face. Before he can even bring his lips within the radius of your face the slam of metal separates you two.

• A mechanical device whirrs between you, parts clanking and activating: acting as a barrier. Your drink spills onto the floor, just narrowly missing your leg.

• You look up to see the weilder of said device glaring straight foward, not looking at either of you. Although her lips settle into a tight line; disdain etched into her (quite stunning) features. You could feel the heat of her body just inches away from yours.

• "Um...were we in your way-" You are cut off by her unexpectedly deep angry tone.

• "Lance, get the fuck out of here." She spat, now turning her head to look at him. Ah so thats his name.

• Her body was turned to face yours, her large frame mostly blocked your view from Lance, but it was pretty obvious he up and left without a word of retaliation.

• You eyed her questioningly scanning her lean (buff) frame.

• "You dont know a man thats trying to get in your pants when you see one?" She spoke firmly, turning her head to you.

• "I dont think he was.." You recalled all the events in the past five minutes and sighed internally "Mmfuck"

• Sevika took a draw of her cigar, watching you piece everything together, "So you really are stupid? I thought you were playing dumb." She scoffed.

• She couldnt lie, you were beautiful, its a shame that all the men in the bar have probably eyed you atleast once since you walked in. This thought made her lips twitch downward.

• "Bartender," Her voice booms "Get her another whiskey."

• Sevika ordering for a woman?? Absolutely unheard of. She means buisness. The bartender quickly grabs your drink offering a smile (that looked more out of fear than anything else) to Sevika.

• All the regulars know she only comes to the bar to either: A) Gamble B) Drink or C) beat someones ass. And despite her rough demeanor her actions were uncharacteristically...nice?

• "Thank you," You smiled up at her "I need to get better at that kind of thing"

• She slid into the barstool next to yours, where Lance had previously sat. "Is this your first time in the undercity? If not im suprised you havent been killed yet"

• Her question went unanswered as you watched the spread of her legs when she sat down, she has thick; definitely toned thighs. You swear you can see the muscle even with her pants on. Your eyes travel upward to look at her ever so slightly visible abs-

• "Hey, do you have nothing going on up there?" She sneered at you, now getting up from her stool. She was quickly irritated.

• "Im sorry, but you're gorgeous. Whats your name?" You ask, catching her gaze as she stood.

• She makes an incredulous expression for a second before going stone faced again "Be careful with what you say to strangers"

• Your drink arrives and she nods her head towards it before walking away, not leaving any room for you to thank her.

• Right as you're about to stare at her confident walk back to her booth a voice interrupted your thoughts, "Thats Sevika, Silcos second hand man." The bartender spoke.

• He knew you werent new, you had been coming for several years, but only casually. The only reason you stook out to him was because of you're genuine kindness when you spoke to him, not demeaning or demanding drinks.

• In return he usually warded off the men and women trying to snag you up and take you home.

• At his words you turned to look at her, but she was already staring back at you. Her gaze dark and almost hungry. You shivered at that, breaking eyecontact first.

• You didn't feel like drinking any longer, aching for the warmth of your home. You took a sip of whiskey and waved at the bartender before hopping off your stool to start towards the exit.

• You passed Sevikas booth on your way out, the men at her table eyed you and one wolf whistled loudly.

• Sevikas eye twitched as she waited for you to exit the vicinity. She made note of the bell ring when you opened and closed the door to the bar.

• She wasted absolutely no time to jump on the man who wolf whistled, grabbing him by the collar and delivering an unforgiving punch to his face with her mechanical arm.

You definitely would be meeting again.

short authors note :) this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS so be patient with me guys ... anywho.. PLEASSEE send asks im begging, i crave to write right now. Im mainly writing for sevika and female characters ! But ill do anyone. ask me about fandoms ! (im in many) and ill write for basically any ask me for part 2 !! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

comment to be added to my taglist :)

[always-just-red]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to illicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming likes he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[itachiiwrites]

𖧧࣪ . ִֶָ๋ cw. yandere!gojo, breaking in the house, forced affection.

Satoru who doesn't understand the concept of personal space or boundaries, surprises you with a visit to your house, unannounced.

His long body lazily sprawled out on the couch as if you had known each other since forever when in reality he was just a coworker. You can already feel the irritation bubbling in your head and your eyes getting a little blurry from the instant shot of anger to see him throw his legs onto your pristine couch. How rude.

He swilves his head around as you enter, a lopsided grin plastering his face. "Welcome back honey, how was work?" He speaks with much casualness and your nose crinkles softly as you cringe. That emphasis on the pet name was clearly intentional seeing the victorious, toothy smile on his face at your reaction.

You don't really protest that he quite literally broke into your house, dropping your bag onto the armchair adjacent to the couch before heading to the kitchen to set yourself dinner. Satoru reminded you of a demanding cat that yowls and rubs it's head against your leg in desperation until you it realises that it's not going to get the attention it desires and eventually leaves.

So you thought would be the case with him..

"You know, I could get you sued for this... right?" Your question was more of a rhetoric, the cynicism of your chuckle made him smirk as you make yourself a cup of coffee to save the headache that Satoru Gojo was.

He knew all too well you wouldn't sue him but the threat was an amusement to him regardless.

"I just wanted to see you" He pouted, that puppied look on his face was almost believable, especially when he flashed his 'too bright for your liking' blue eyes, shifting his blindfold up to sit on top of his head. "You can't fault a man for wanting to spend time with his girlfriend, afterall."

So that's how he wanted to play this game huh?

"Since when am I your girlfriend?" The counter back question was fast, almost too fast, making the man raise his arms up in mock defence.

"In my defense, you haven't denied it either.." He sighed, making long strides towards you with his abnormally long legs, keeping you caged against the kitchen counter with his hands placed firmly onto the granite, the warm of his mint bubblegum breath tickling the helix of your ear.

He hummed and the depth of his voice intonated too differently. Satoru slid his hand onto your tummy, giving it a daring squeeze and a nearly sensual caress, making you shudder.

"Also, I've already decided in my head that you're my girlfriend" He spoke in a saccharine tone followed by a silence that felt so heavy that even air felt too dry to swallow.

"You just haven't... caught up with me yet."

[bokutosbabe]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[bloggerspam]

"Sam's going to kill us."

Val mutters, dragging Danny with a firm grip to his arm. He's not eating nearly enough if his arm is this skinny. Val's going to have to call Jazz about it.

"Sam won't kill us,." Danny soothes, letting her plop him into the seat of his own damn motorcycle. Hers is still 'out of commission' so she hops on behind him.

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Sam Manson?" Val snarks, putting on her helmet and feeling jittery as Danny slowly puts on his.

The microphones flicker to life, just as Danny revs up the bike. "We're on vacation, it's not like we're on a schedule and it's not our fault your college administration is literally the pits."

They have 15 minutes to get to the Thai place to grab dinner, and 10 minutes to get back to the hotel before they're irrevocably late. The talk with her professor, and subsequently the talk with the woman at the Bursar's office, ran longer than either of them expected it to. But it's all sorted now, her scholarship is in tact, and apparently she even has a monthly stipend, which will make things much easier on her and her dad.

"Just floor it Fenton!" Val growls, and she can feel his eyes rolling as he digs in.

"You asked for it!" Danny cackles, and does as he's bid.

They make good time on the Thai food, but of course (as all things go with Danny) Fenton Luck strikes again.

They're about halfway back to the hotel, when they get, of all things, pulled over for speeding.

"How did you not see the police car?" Val grouses, texting Sam and Tucker and trying to make sure her hands are visible. You never know.

When Danny doesn't answer her, she leans a little to see what's going on. He's looking through what looks like a small compartment on the side of the bike near the handlebars, frozen like he's just discovered something devastating.

"What's going on?" Val hisses, jabbing Danny in the side and jolting him to look at her. It's hard to tell through the dark visor, but she recognizes the way his body scrunches up. Something's wrong.

"So. Uh." Danny starts, curling his shoulders in and of all things, touching his index fingers together delicately like some kind of sheepish cartoon character, "Remember how I only just finished this bike last month?"

Val freezes. "Danny. Danny don't tell me you didn't—"

A cough to their left has both of them whipping their heads around. The officer who pulled them over, presumably, waits bemusedly with his arms crossed and hip popped like he thinks they're funny. He's tall, lithe but definitely packin' some muscle with dark blue eyes and black hair that reminds her of Danny. Gotham sure has a lot of people of the same coloring—even her boss shares it, though his eyes are more teal-in shade.

"License and registration, please." The officer chirps, looking both apologetic and stern at the same time. She's only ever seen Jazz pull that look off, and honestly she'd be more relaxed at the sight if Danny hadn't forgotten to register his god damn motorcycle. Considering the bike is tricked out to all hell, runs on ghost tech and thoroughly looks as illegal as it apparently is, she'd be surprised if they weren't arrested.

"Uh. So. Here's the thing Officer…" Val face palms as Danny fumbles his way through a shoddy explanation of his own incompetence. Dumbest smart guy she'll ever know, she fuckin' swears—him and Tucker!

She sighs. Sam's definitely going to kill them. At least the bloodshed will have to wait until after she bails them out.

Small mercies.

===

"Tucker, hurry up." Sam hisses, which, easy for her to say. She's not the one with asthma and a propensity to sit at home and do nothing but play games for weekend long marathons.

"I'm trying Sam, I don't even know what you even need me for, you know how to hot wire a motorcycle!" Tucker grunts as he crawls painfully over the crest of the fence. The points of it jab into his kidney, maybe even his gall bladder. Does he even need those things? Is he gonna die? He'll have to ask Danny.

"I haven't read Danny's manual on the new bike yet, dingus." Sam growls, but thankfully catches him when he successfully rolls over to the other side. His hero, really. Danny can take a back seat.

Tucker had hacked the impound's records earlier that day, so they head immediately towards the correct lot.

Except when they get there, they're not the only ones.

If Tucker isn't mistaken—and he rarely ever is—that is Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown, the current crushes Danny and Val are harboring, and they are just as if not more surprised to see Sam and Tucker.

Jason is currently crouched beside the bike, examining the side console meant for diagnosis and looking utterly lost. Stephanie—Steph, he recalls Val saying she introduced herself as—looks like she's breaking into the wheel lock.

Well shit. Can you do the Spiderman meme if none of you look alike?

The four of them stand there frozen, staring at each other and gaping stupidly and each no doubt wondering what the fuck is happening right now.

Sam, of course, is the first to recover. "Jason Todd. Stephanie Brown." She crosses her arms, pops her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

Steph recovers second. "What are you, a cop?"

The sheer offense that Sam adopts over her face would make Tucker laugh, if they weren't standing in the middle of an impound lot trying to steal an illegal ecto-bike at close to 10pm.

"What she means," Tucker opens his arms wide, holding Sam back with one and gesturing towards the bike with the other, "Is if you're not careful, that thing could blow up—literally—in your faces."

Sam huffs, making a sort of well? gesture.

"Oh." Jason carefully stands up from his crouch, snagging Steph by the back of her shirt and pulling them away just slightly, "We just—ahem, wanted to help."

"Help your employee?" Sam challenges, before smirking, "Or trying to impress the boy you like?"

Steph coughs, covering a laugh, freezing when Sam turns her wicked eyes on her, "Or perhaps you were cajoled into it," Sam squints, "Stephanie Brown, right? You seem quite fond of Val, what with all the invitations to spar."

"Not that Val ever realizes," Tucker laughs, "Ignore Sam over here—Tucker, by the way, nice to meetcha, heard a lot about ya'll—She just likes giving her friends' love interests a good once over, y'know?""

Steph and Jason share a look, before looking away with decidedly redder faces. Jason splotchy on the bridge of his nose, Steph burning her neck. Even in the dark, Tucker can see it, hard not to when you're the only one with melanin in the group.

"Listen," Tucker decides to be merciful, "We—I love whatever is goin' on here, big fan of when people love on my friends, real refreshing actually—"

Sam huffs, elbowing him, so he coughs and tries again. "The point is, whilst the thought is nice, I wasn't joking when i said it would literally blow up in your faces."

Sam rolls her eyes as his dramatics, but doesn't disagree. "It runs off highly sensitive and reactive fluids, kept securely in a blast proof container. But if you happened to open it, accidentally or otherwise fiddling with the controls…"

Tuck mimes a little kabloom!

"What?" Steph stumbles back, though all Jason does is eye the bike in a new light. Hm. Interesting. That's certainly a Red Hood expression if Tucker ever did see one. Judging by the way Sam squints at the other man, she thinks so too.

"How did you even know Danny's bike was taken to the impound anyway?" Sam is really doing this whole shovel talk thing at 110% huh. Not that Tuck blames her, with Danny's history of people fucking him over. "Are you tracking him?"

That gets Tucker's hackles up immediately. He knew that Oracle was snooping around Amity Park files, but as far as he knew, she hadn't gotten far. The Fentons are a fairly visible family, what with their patents and unhinged nature of advertising their inventions, but Danny and Jazz are actually pretty invisible on the internet.

They, unlike their parents, took internet safety very seriously.

To be more precise, Jazz did, and Danny learned from her, so.

Plus, Tucker's no slouch at protecting his friends from the perils of the interweb. Especially since he and Technus like to futz around with firewalls every second Saturday of the month.

You don't take down an entire Government Organization's network together and just stop hanging out. It's just not done.

"No!" Jason and Steph yell in sync, whipping their heads towards each other after a moment, "At least, I'm not—"

Before it can devolve into what looks like a sibling fight, Sam stomps her foot down. Childishly, Tucker might add, if he didn't value his life. (Which he does, so he keeps his mouth shut.)

"How." Sam growls. They shut up immediately, going shifty.

Jason, brave man that he is, mumbles something under his breath. Steph, a much more braver woman, shuts her eyes and throws Jason under the proverbial bus in a rush of panicked words.

"His brother is the cop that arrested them!" Her voice echoes in the darkness of the impound lot. Jason slaps his hands against his face, groaning and quietly hissing at Steph about inside voices, dumbass.

Tucker can't help it. Once the words register, all he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sam sighs, pushing Jason out of the way and shoving Tucker, who is struggling to breathe, towards the bike to unlock it. "I need a drink."

"Y-you," Tucker's hands are steady and quick, even through his laughter, "doN't ev-e-n drink!"

"Ice cream then." Sam grumbles. "Why are Danny's love interests always so troublesome?"

"You tell m-me," There's a click, Tucker's laughter just barely dying down as he stands up and allows Jason to start rolling the bike off the lot, "You were one of-of them!"

Jason stiffens, but Sam pats him on the shoulder, hard. "When we were 14 and our only other choice was you, Tuck."

"Hey! That's hurtful, first of all," Tucker feels indignant, "And second of all, you could have been an A-lister from the start if you wanted to. Third of all, Danny had choices! Dash and Wes were right there."

They manage to get out of the impound lot easily enough, and with Steph and Jason's lead they start heading towards the city proper.

"You mean his bully and stalker?" Sam challenges, crossing her arms as they stop by what Tucker assumes to be either Jason or Steph's car.

Jason stiffens up again, grip going white on Danny's handlebars, though he relaxes at Tucker's next statement.

"You and I both know Danny would have brought them to heel." Tucker counters, "Besides, the point was that Danny had options. He just never noticed."

Sam thinks on that, before nodding. "True."

Jason huffs a small laugh, looking charmed beyond belief. "He that oblivious?"

"Sam had to sit him down and tell him she wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend before he even realized Sam liked him." Tucker shakes his head, grinning, "Still didn't believe her until she planted one on him."

"Better than Val," Sam chuckles, facing Steph, "She's a bad bitch when it comes to men but suddenly a pretty lady talks to her and she's all that's just how girls are, Sam! How am I supposed to tell when they're flirting, Sam! Girls are smarter and if they liked me like that it would be OBVIOUS Sam!"

Steph giggles, hand coming up to stifle it, and her eyes gain a new gleam to her eye. Oh good, so Steph does like Val back. Nice.

"So how was this gonna go?" Tucker says after a moment of silence. "You get the bike, then what?"

Jason and Steph share a look, before Jason's nose gets all red again. "I was gonna wait outside for him, have Dick pull some strings to bail them out and uh, surprise Danny with the bike."

Sam and Tucker look at Steph, who shrugs. "He and Val got locked up together so…I thought Val would appreciate not having to third wheel." She pats the hood of the car, "Was gonna offer her a ride home, after Jason did his thing."

Sam and Tucker perk up then, turning back to Jason. "You gonna ask him on a date??"

"I mean, he's not here for long, right? Just for Christmas?" Jason twitches, like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets, but can't because he's holding up Danny's bike. His shoulders hike up and he pops the bike stand. "I wanted to at least get his number. Get to know him better."

There's a moment of silence, before Tucker and Sam place a hand on each of Jason's shoulders, excitement palpable. "GODS, are we glad you're a bad bitch who gets what he wants. Val was right about you!"

"Uh," Jason's eyes are wide, surprised as if he wasn't expecting that, "Thanks?" He coughs, the red of his nose traveling to his cheeks and staining his ears.

Sam and Tuck let go, though Sam gives him a hearty pat on the back to go with the motion.

"I was gonna bail them out in the morning, let 'em sit in their shame for a bit." Sam turns towards Steph, "You guys know any good ice cream shops open this late in the mean time?"

Steph grins, "Information like that's gonna cost ya." She's clearly joking though, considering she immediately pulls out her phone to bring up some ice cream shops on GPS.

"Will embarrassing stories about Danny and Val cover it?" Tucker cheekily asks.

"Sold, to the man in the beret." Jason deadpans, smirking as he points at Tucker.

It's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.