#i'm everywhere and nowhere all at the same time

[theegyal]

HUSH [ Annie x Smoke ]

Chapitre 2 : The pharmacist and the Soldier

2:00 PM

Lois has fallen asleep in her backseat, unaware of her mother's turmoil. What a one year old infant can do for her, after all ?

Annie parked in front of the huge mansion. After struggling that much in Mississippi, Elijah and her moved out to Chicago to raise a family. The beginning of their story was deep cut into aches, pains and disillusions.

After suffering from two miscarriages, years of depression and post traumatic stress, she got pregnant on Spring 1999.

Their couple started to heal. Well, it had never been wounded. Elijah loved her hard, so hard she used to wonder if it might kill him. . He held her through nights when neither of them could sleep.

Lois was born on the same cold December. Annie remembered her husband panicking, rushing everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He carried her in a royal way, installed her in their great ol' car then drove off to the hospital.

He stayed there for eight hours. Sharing pain with his wife on labor.

"How ironic it is" She turned off the engine and gently lifted Lois from the seat, careful not to wake her. The baby stirred but settled quickly against her mother's chest.

Inside, Annie laid her in the cradle, pulling the knitted blanket over her legs with tender hands. Then she stood still, watching her daughter sleep.

The house was too quiet.

It used to hum with Elijah's presence. Playing his guitar, watching his famous thriller series, raging in front of the T.V.

But now he was no longer there . Gone.

Annie walked away from Lois and stepped into the living room.  stared at the wall of photographs . Her favorite wasn't the wedding picture. It was the one from Lois's birth—Elijah holding their daughter for the first time, eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.

"Lulu" Annie whispered "you was so little"

She brushed her long fingers over the photo, lingering on Elijah Moore's face.

"And you" she buckled under her nose "My love. I'm so proud of you. I'm glad you're still alive."

Her monologue started "It hurts to know that, I will never in this lifetime, wake up and see your face again, sensing your hand tightening me close to you chest"

A hiccup cracked her voice, but she pressed on, a frail smile "I hope you eat well. You need to teach this...Olivia, your mother's recipe. The one you love so much that you always clean the plate when I cooked it"

Her lungs were burning, flames down her stomach, twisted, pushing her to the edge of shattering.

"And if the nightmares are still comin'..." She paused, swallowed. "Hold your necklace. If you still got it."

She felt ridiculous, speaking to a motionless picture. But, regardless of what her nosy neighbors might think —or even what her own mind tried to say—this was Annie's only way..  Her only way to convey the  feelings she still has. Her last goodbye.

8:30 PM

"If she gets up later on, I have a mango apple smoothie in the fridge. Feed her with the beverage."

Annie wore her hair in an updo—pressed at the front, edges laid, the rest twisted and pinned into a tight bun at the back. She was dressed in a long-length dress, a corset pulling her waist straight. The woman looked poised, confident, and relaxed. No one could guess the turmoil, the sadness, the aches behind that fake smile she offered.

"Alright, Mrs. Moore."

An imposter.

She felt like an imposter every single time someone called her that. Moore. She wasn't a spouse anymore.

"You can call me Annie..."

9:12 PM

Annie stepped into the garage, Lois already fast asleep upstairs in her crib. The sitter had turned on the hallway light, left the living room dim and quiet just how she asked. No TV. No noise. Just peace.

Annie grabbed her keys from the hook, slipped into her coat, and opened the car door. Her old Honda Civic coughed when it started, headlights flickering before they held. She pulled out of the driveway slow, careful not to wake the neighbors' dog who barked at everything after dark.

The streets were half-empty now. Chicago by night had a rhythm of its own—streetlights buzzing, corner stores still open, men selling bootlegs from the trunks of cars. Young girls in puffer coats laughing too loud. Cops parked in shadows, watching.

She drove past it all, carefully. Hands steady on the wheel. Eyes locked on the red lights ahead.

It took her thirteen minutes to reach the pharmacy.

Hayes Pharmacy was the name, but nobody used it like that. Most people just called it Mrs Moore's. It stood near the laundromat and the chicken spot, right where the N4 bus turned. A squat little building with green paint peeling off the trim and a busted neon sign that buzzed too loud when it rained.

She parked out back, entered through the staff door, and locked it behind her. Inside, the smell of rubbing alcohol and paper dust hit her like a habit.

"Evenin', Mrs Moore" came a voice from behind the counter.

It was her colleague : Terrence. College student. Pharmacy tech. Dreadlocks tied up under a Bulls cap.

"You are quite late," he added with a polite smile.

She rolled her eyes, tugging off her gloves. "Not all of us got time to flirt with customers between restocking vitamins, dear."

He laughed, held up both hands. "You got me."

She hung up her coat, tied her white smock around her waist, and moved to the counter. Her name tag caught the light: A. Moore, RPh. It used to make her proud. Now, it felt like borrowed skin.

"I really need to modify it..." she murmured for herself.

"Anything urgent?"

"Nah. Just Ms. Hall again. Picked up her pain meds. Asked about your baby, though."

Annie nodded. She pulled out the ledger, flipped to tonight's log, and started scanning prescriptions.

Another night. Another shift.

10:44 PM

The radio hummed low from the back office—Luther, maybe Marvin. She was not paying attention.

Terrence had clocked out an hour ago, mumbled a quick "night, Doc" before disappearing through the back door with his headphones on. Annie barely noticed. She'd stayed behind the counter, organizing the bottom shelves—restocking the ibuprofen, sliding new boxes of allergy pills into place.

The bell above the door jingled.

She didn't look up. Just called out automatically, "We do close in fifteen minute. What you need?"

A man's voice answered—calm, familiar. "Excuse me madam, just something for a headache. Migraine's been at me all day."

That lazy tone, the one he always infused with sighs and arching brows.

Annie's spine stiffened.

The bottle in her hand slipped slightly against her palm. It was him, her soulmate, the only one who made her felt like a woman.

Annie's breath caught somewhere between her ribs.

She snatched the name tag from her chest—A. Moore—and shoved it into her pocket with shaking fingers. Her body moved before her brain caught up, legs turning her slowly around.

And there the man was.

Elijah.

Not in uniform. Not dressed up. Just... standing there. In a grayed hoodie. Black jeans. Hands in his pockets.

The soft sounds of the radio seemed to vanish. The lights felt too bright. Annie's knees buckled, but she caught herself against the counter edge.

"S—Sir" she replied, trying to gain her composure back. "Do you have any prescription?"

Elijah looked at the woman seconds to long , then exclaimed with a teasing tone

"Oh, ain’t it the store's lady ?"

Tag list :

@thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @Ib-xci @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART TWO ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: he should have waited for you. but no, toshinori felt like he had something to prove. now, roles are reversed and he needs your help. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 5k tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (male receiving), piv, sex pollen trope but make it canon specific, dirty talk, praise kink, denied feelings, deeply needy fucking, size difference, toshinori being a good old fashioned lover-boy (again), enemies-to-coworkers-to-lovers hits hard a/n: oh wow a part two,,, i'm sick in the head ← previous | the tag

This ain't great.

This is, uh, bad actually.

Like, Toshinori has absolutely no idea what to do, bad. 

For Christ's sake, he's All Might. He should have known better. He should have known to wait for you — but no, he just had to calm his nerves by beginning your usual shared patrol an hour early. 

It's been one week, two days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes since he last saw you. Not that he's counting. It's not like he's suddenly acutely aware of the time he's spent apart from you, or anything. 

Japan is locked in a heatwave. 

(Or, maybe it's just the fever in his bones.)

Large, calloused palms dig into his eyes as he leans back against the rooftop's barrier and groans. Toshinori drops his head against the iron railing in defeat, sending a twang through the hot air. Sweat is running down his back beneath his suit, tracing the curve of his spine.

Oh, and he's hard.

Painfully hard.

Like he said, this ain't great.

The call went out that they spotted the same love quirk user from last week holding some sex workers at gunpoint. He should have waited. The two of you could have handled him easily. 

But, no. Toshi had to go and think he had something to prove. 

He groans again, pounding his knuckles to the gravel.

It's going to be all over the evening news. That clip of him, panicking, and absolutely decking the very-much-not-a-real-violent-threat-of-a-man in the face on reflex after being hit with his quirk. He couldn't help it. It was like... a knee-jerk. It's like suddenly you're being touched everywhere and nowhere. It's strange. Sort of violating. It... I-It was just all he could do, okay? 

And he apologized! Plenty! A-And Officer Tsukauchi said it was fine, that he had it handled, as a bunch of officers began to help the now-unconscious offender out of the storefront's debris.

...Toshinori's phone is ringing.

He has half the mind to ignore it.

But it's the guitar riff from 'Bad to the Bone'. 

It's you.

He barks out a huffed 'shit' before digging his phone from the pocket in his belt. Even your picture glowing alongside the phone call notification is enough to make his cock throb. 

It's not even racy. It's blurry. It's in the All Might Agency's lobby. You're smiling. It's such a rare sight. You're holding up your official hero license and a big thumbs up.

He took the picture a few years ago. It was a big deal, a huge win. Your hair was a little shorter, and your hands weren't as scarred from Pro-Hero work as they are now. And god, that smile. 

...Jesus, you're just happy and he's this horny? 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Toshinori picks up on the last ring.

"Where the hell are you?" comes your voice, cutting through the sound of wind — he can hear the thrum of your bike's engine in the background, "I've been looking all over for you, and I just got a call from Tsukauchi — are you alright?"

The sound of your voice is making his mouth dry.

"I'm fine."

He's not fine.

He's sitting here, aroused out of his mind and in pain, trying to battle through the mind-numbing, knuckle-breaking heat of desire. He can't even come close to the word 'fine'. He's a mess. All he can do is sit here and sweat because he knows no amount of trying to jerk off is going to solve this problem.

He's so not fine.

You can tell.

Tsukauchi gave few details — just that whatever the hell happened sent All Might hightailing it outta there. And, after getting a brief description of the prep, you had a pretty good idea why. 

Your fingers twitch against the throttle.

"Send me your location," you say sternly; the glint of your helmet's visor catches the passing lights of traffic as you talk into the built-in comms system, "I'm coming to get you."

"No," he grits out, tugging on a piece of his blonde fringe, "N-No. I'll be fine. I-I am fine. Just need some time—"

"Toshinori," you bark back as you check for an opening between cars; your whole body is hot and it's not just from the summer heat, "I'm not asking. Let me help." 

...Oh.

Help. Right.

It's ambiguous and sort of ominous but, if he squints, it's the first time either of you has even come close to talking about what happened last week. Y'know. When he kissed you in your entryway, the way he ate you out on your couch, or the way he absolutely fucked your brains out in your bed. All because you had been hit with the same quirk influence he's riding out now.

His location pings up on your visor's HUD. 

"Be there in five."

And you hang up.

Because — I mean, what else is there to say? You are going to do what you have to to help him. Just like he did for you. Then, maybe it will be even! And then, maybe, this feeling that has been eating your heart away for the last week will disappear. Right? And things will go back to normal!

...Right?

Ha! B-Because, yea, that feeling is definitely guilt, right? Like... You... uh. You feel bad. Because... he had to... help. And you haven't helped him. Right. Yes. 

Yep.

Not because you can't stop thinking about his hands on your face, cradling you tenderly as he drove himself deep into you. Not because you can't stop thinking about the way he looked up at you with his tongue flat on your clit. Not because you can't stop thinking about his voice, or his smile, or his laugh, or his—

The telltale roar of a motorcycle sets Toshinori Yagi's stomach ablaze. 

Immediately, the air gets thicker like the feeling before a summer thunderstorm. He knows you're here. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and before he can rub the feeling away, you're there. 

On the roof.

"You look..." you breathe out as your feet touch down with a crackle of lightning crescendoing around you, "Like shit." 

(Truly he looks divine. Rosey cheeks, his chest heaving. His eyes are half-lidded. There's a bead of sweat that runs down his jaw, down down down, down his neck, then disappears beneath the collar of his suit.)

Toshi sighs. It's a ragged sound. He pulls his knees up, trying his best to hide the apparent tenting across the front of his hero costume. He scrapes his rough palm down his face.

"Don't start—"

"Did I look this bad?" you ask, voice hiking an octave as you move towards him. You keep an even distance. Your face is morphed into a look of pity, but there's something in your voice that makes the knot in Toshinori's gut wind tighter, "He got you good, huh, Tosh'?"

He can't do nicknames right now.

"Ha, ha," he grits out, the trademarked All Might boisterousness dying in favor of the lackluster, dry humor he was born with, "You're real funny, zippy."

It's your favorite flavor of him. The man is out of the limelight. Though he may still be bigger than life biceps and thick steel-corded quads, the facade has fallen. 

"And you're a mess," you sigh as you squat down, rummaging in your pack for something. It's a water bottle. You offer it as you watch him. 

The condensation kisses his fingertips as he takes it and pops it open. 

He takes a long drink, caps it off, then presses the cold bottle to the back of his neck. It does little to dissipate the tension in his broad shoulders. The sensation arguably makes it worse. Another bead of sweat runs down his back.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We're never gonna talk about this again echoes somewhere in the back of his mind. At this rate, they're gonna have to talk about this. Because once is just a fluke. Twice is a problem. A real problem. 

He places the bottle back on the ground after another long sip.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Despite your desperate attempt to remain levelheaded, you know exactly how he's feeling at this moment. You gotta admit, his self-control dwarfs your own though. You could hardly keep your hands off him the second he walked in your door. 

You wrestle your bike helmet off, and Toshinori has to quell the wave of longing that rises in his chest. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and neck. He suddenly wishes he made you look this way — windswept and sweating. 

The jet-black helmet lands on the rooftop with a thwat. He can see his ragged, flushed reflection in the black visor. 

Your voice is soft. "Hey."

It brings his focus back to you. His mouth is dry. Big blue eyes swivel as they rake across your face — and he hates how his cock jumps at how softly you speak next.

"What do you need right now, Toshinori?"

His chest is rising and falling a little faster. The usual steadfast expression on his face has melted into something doe-eyed and boyish. It makes your heart clench. 

"Are you sure about this?" his voice cracks as he swallows roughly. It's a non-answer. It's a metaphorical boot-kicking-in-the-door, though. Toshinori rakes his hands through his hair, "I-I... I can wait it out—"

You exhale tightly; your rationale is clear. Totally unbiased and very much not rooted in an unabashed obsession with the way he touches you. 

"Tosh', you helped me. I won't sit around and let you suffer when the same hand is dealt your way."

He drops his head back again. Another twang echoes through the night air. 

"Plus," you offer with a slow, crooning smile, "I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

It takes a second.

Then, one blue eye cracks open. Long, dark blonde lashes flutter a bit — and then, he's smirking. 

Ha. 

Right.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his head still dropped back and shoulders slumped. 

"Sure as I'll ever be, big man."

That's the only permission he needs.

Toshinori Yagi is fast. He has to be. He's the Number One Hero in all of Japan. Top of the popularity ranks, fan-favorite, best stats in history. Being fast is part of the gig. 

He's fast to sit up and catch you in a kiss that feels like a bruise — tender and aching and miscalculated. It's teeth and tongue and then a deliciously low noise that rumbles up from his chest and sets your whole body on fire. 

His grip is rough — his fingers fist your hair as he drags you closer, his mouth presses firmly to yours as you scramble against the rough rooftop. It's... 

Needy.

You're crawling towards him.

"That's my line," he breathes out, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and pressing back in to steal your breath. His grip tightens in your hair. His voice is so low that it feels like someone lights a fire under your skin. It's rough and breathless and so not All Might.  

"It's a good line," you mutter back as your brain stutter-steps. You pull away to crawl closer and straddle his hips. Your knees pin his cape to the gravel. You're kissing him again, letting his feverish need set the pace, "Worked on me."

You can feel him through your hero suit. 

His suit's pants are thick, made of some patented material you can never remember the name of — but his arousal is more than apparent as you settle your weight down against him. The added pressure earns a throaty hum of approval. 

You always forget just how big he is in this form — his hands dwarf your hips as he drags his grip down, allowing himself a little bit of an edge when he unceremoniously bucks up against you. 

"Sorry," he slurs out, his boots scraping against the roof; it's utterly pathetic, "Sorry—"

"Stop apologizing," you breathe out as you follow his lead and continue the movement, grinding your hips down, "I asked what you needed—"

"Anything," Toshinori's words rush out with his blue eyes screwed closed tightly as he grips your hips and slots his mouth back against yours, "Anything you'll give me."

...How is he so romantic? Even in a moment like this? Even when he's blindly seeking friction through his pants, bucking his hips against your own, as he moans into your mouth. 

"Hands? Mouth?" you parrot his line of questioning from your previous encounter; it seems to knock some sense into him.

His breath catches. Blue eyes widen minutely. You feel him twitch beneath you.

"God, mouth, please—"

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be here? 

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be helping him work off his belt, work off his tactical pants? Who knew you'd be watching his taut stomach flex as you push his costume's top higher up his torso, who knew you'd be dragging his stupid All Might-themed boxers down his narrow hips to spring him free? 

Who thought you'd ever see him like this, so desperate and winded and needy? 

Not you, that's for sure. You never thought, in all those years you sat in prison, this would be your life shortly after: giving head — happily — to the man who put you there in the first place. 

And here you are, slipping him a tentative look as you wrap a gloved hand around his hardness and smirk. 

"Is this okay?" you murmur up at him, on your hands and knees. You're teasing him. He knows this. 

Toshinori laughs — an incredulous bark. It's all you need to hear as confirmation. 

The sound splinters into a choked moan when you bend down and take him into your mouth.

He sees stars.

This is going to be a problem.

All he can do is lean back and grip the guard rail over his head for dear life because ho-oly shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. His biceps go taut, his knuckles white, and he tries so hard to keep his hips still as you hum around him. His whole body shudders — his thighs tensing under your other hand as you balance above him. 

This is — son of a bitch. Your grip around the base of his cock tightens incrementally, and as you lap at the head of his cock, his thoughts die in a strangled burst of pleasure. 

Then, his hand lands on your cheek.

The touch is reverent. Holy. Tender and adoring.

"Jesus, Der'," he slurs out, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to keep his eyes on you; he can't stare too long. The sight is too much. Too pretty. Mouth full of him, "You're such a good girl." 

There it is. 

The little bit of praise he slipped you before. 

If the iron rail creeks beneath his tightening grip, neither of you pays it any mind. 

You're on your knees, gloved hand around his shaft, watching his face contort into something so wonderfully steeped in bliss. You've got more important things to mind rather than the structural integrity of some stupid rooftop rail. 

Like the way his stomach clenches — the way his abs tighten. Like the way he says your name or the way he chokes out a nervous laugh when you take him just a litttttle deeper. 

"Fucking shit," he hisses; you make a mental note to rib him for his language some other time. Hearing him curse like this is a hell of an indicator for your ego that you're doing a good job, "Der', if you keep that up—"

"What?" you rasp, spit connecting your mouth to his cock, "You'll cum?"

Something snaps. 

It's a flash of red and blue and silver and blonde, his cape tearing through the air. 

Suddenly, you're pinned to the rooftop — gravel scrapes as your boots kick and grapple for purchase. Your elbows scuff against the ground. The wind is swept out of your body and he's kissing you so roughly you swear you taste blood. One of his hands is locked around your jaw. You're effectively trapped. 

All you can do is let out a shaky, startled, yet painfully aroused laugh. 

His other hand isn't gentle — it's tearing at the bottom half of your suit, unceremoniously snapping the button of your tactical pants open and shoving his hand down the front of them. You can feel a slight shake in his fingers as they delve past your underwear and slip into your folds.

"I need you," he hisses; his eyes are dark, and you can see the edge of frustration building. You know the feeling. 

Another kiss.

Suddenly, there are two fingers in you. 

You whine against his mouth.

He doesn't waste any time. He can't. Not when all he can think about is splitting you open on his cock. You're right here and you're soft and beautiful and fuck, he can't even think straight when you clamp down on his middle and ring finger. 

"Be nice," you warn between pants and whines and whimpers. It's an empty threat.

"Or what?" he chirps back, working his fingers in and out; his voice hitches along the syllables, trying his best to sound unaffected by the little breathy sound you let out when he kisses your jaw, "You'll cum?"

It's your turn to laugh. Your hands grapple with his cape, trying to anchor yourself in any way possible. You fist it as his fingers continue the task at hand: opening you up enough to take him. His knees nudge your legs open a little bit farther. Toshinori's body feels like it's on fire. 

His heavy, hot cock drags up the inside of your thigh and he shudders. 

His face is pressed to your shoulder in a flash; it's good because he doesn't see the blissful smile working its way across your face as our own arousal builds. 

"You're soaking wet," he strangles out; his pride is overshadowed by the embarrassing need to have you. He feels like if he doesn't, this raging fever will just get worse and worse and worse. 

"Par for the course," your words hitch on a hot wave of arousal as his palm grinds down against your clit. You grip his wrist, trying to ignore the tell-tale shake in your legs. His hand is holding your face.

"At least I'm doin' something right," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek as he relinquishes his fingers from your heat and drags your mouth across your jaw, "Y'think... Think you can...?"

Take him? Yea.

You're a brave girl. 

Yea, that shouldn't be a problem. 

What is a problem is your riding gear and hero suit — but Toshinori can't be bothered. He's grappling with them for you, hauling you into his arms as he drags them down enough. They get caught on the tops of your boots, but he doesn't give a shit. Not when you're here, spread, and glistening before him. Not when you're in his lap, half-dressed, and trying to maneuver yourself down onto him with some semblance of grace. 

Everything is bigger when it comes to Mr. Double Detriot Smash.

Again, you're a brave girl. You're not going to shy away from the upgraded dicking down you got last week. Hell, that was great. Filled you up perfectly, and hit all the right spots... and now, you're realizing that the already tight fit is going tobe a littttle tighter. 

Your knees are like jello as your fingertips dig into his shoulders. Your hair is wild — and you're sweating. He's no better off; there's a crease of worry in his brow, even amidst the blinding heat of desire that's eating him up inside. 

He knows he's big. He's huge. He's... 

This is the first time he's ever had sex in this empowered form. 

Not like he advertises this as a service.

He'd be lying through his trademarked smile if he said he wasn't nervous — but there you go, giving him just another reason why he should buy a ring tomorrow and give you everything you've ever wanted because fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you're so tight and hot and wet and the sound you make the second you sink down on him—

"God, yes, Tosh'."

The gasp that wrings itself from his mouth is utterly pathetic. He doesn't care. He truly can't even think straight — all he can do is dig his fingertips into your hips and slam his mouth against yours to muffle the whines crawling up his throat. 

"Stay right there," you whisper; there's an edge to your voice of warning. He's trying to listen. He's trying to be a—

"Good boy."

You're holding his face and he can't seem to catch his breath. His boots scuff in the dirt, his brows knit, and he inhales sharply when you clamp down on him for good measure. Fuck. Shit. God, nonono. He needs to move. He needs — c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, please.

"Der'—"

You're kissing him again — and then you move. Slow at first, a little hiccup of your hips. Then, more assured, more confident. An easy up, then down. Then again, and again, and again. And again. 

"God, yes," he nearly cries; he smothers his desperate moan into a kiss that melts away time. Toshinori's hands are trying to find purchase, trying to help guide you up and down his cock as best he can. He doesn't want you to do all the work — he wants to help, "You're so fucking good, Der'."

"Y-Yea?" you breathe out, your entire body shuddering at the praise. Your hip tightens, and you don't even have the wherewithal to consider the cramp. You're not stopping for anything.

Not when this is, like, the hottest thing you've ever done. 

"You have no idea," he melts into another kiss that's all tongue and adoration, his bare thread composure snapping up like his hips in a testing manner, "Lemme fuck you, please, Der', please, please, I promise I'll be good—"

It certainly felt good.

All you can do is hold onto his shoulders. 

If you've learned one thing in the time you've known Toshinori Yagi, it's that he's a man of his word. He holds promises in the deepest homes of his heart, ensuring that nothing prevents him from honoring them. He's dedicated entirely to those around him and to seeing them prevail. Toshinori, even on his worst days, never makes a promise he can't keep. 

So, promising he'll be good?

I mean — it depends on the definition, doesn't it?

If 'good' is desperate, pathetic, fast drillings of his hips as you cling to him and gasp? If 'good' is filthy, muttered praise into your collarbone as he slams into you again, and again, and again?

If 'good' is scrambling in the gravel, being pressed flat as he takes you from behind?

Then, yea.

He's really good.

He's incredibly good — especially as he presses his chest to your back, and wraps his arm around your front. His fingers are greedily pushing through your folds as he keeps up his thoroughly rough pace. The thick, calloused pads of his ring and middle finger grace your clit and you nearly scream. 

The gravel is biting into your knees and palms but you don't care. Not when his mouth is on your neck and he keeps saying your name over and over and over and over again as he drives you into the ground. Not Derecho. Not some tender version of a nickname.

Your name. 

The hot fire of your arousal is building steadily — the wet, explicit sounds of him pushing his cock into you over and over again as he pins you are doing plenty, but it's the way he says your name that really seals your fate. 

Toshinori isn't here right now. Come back in two business days. He's lost in the bone-deep influence of this quirk, hellbent on filling you up and proving he's a good boy. He can give you everything. A ring, a house, a life — three more motorbikes and whatever you want on top of that. 

Fuck, he loves you.

Your fingers dig into the rooftop. 

"Oh, fuck, Toshi — yes," you cry; there's a crack in your voice, "Right there. K-Keep... Keep doing that—"

"C'mon, I wanna f-feel you cum," he babbles as you bury your face into his elbow bracing his weight, "Come on, Der', you're such a good girl, you're taking me so well, I know you c-can—"

Everything is Toshinori. His breath is hot against your neck as he pants, and his voice — so low and honeyed — is right in your ear as he moans.

Even now, he's ever so selfless.

"I need you to cum first," he grits as his fingers work your clit just a little faster, "C'mon, Der', you're doing so good — you deserve it, you deserve to cum so hard—"

Your knees jerk — and the world's best orgasm rushes up to meet you headfirst. A snap of lightning ignites your skin as you lose all control, and so suddenly Toshinori is right behind you, tumbling down the white-hot bliss of the best sex he's ever had in his life. 

He made you snap, he made you lose control, h-he made you cum—

His composure shatters. There's a guttural sound wrenched from deep in his chest and it's delicious. He finishes with a series of frantic thrusts that make you whine. His mouth is on your neck, your cheek, then your mouth. 

You crane yourself back, humming delightfully into the kiss that quells the rolling tide of desire into something softer. 

His whole body shudders as the after-quakes of your orgasm ripple along him. All Toshi can do is smother his sounds into another kiss. This one is slower. It's needy in a different way. 

When the kiss finally slows, it takes a second for him to peel his eyes open.

You look thoroughly wrecked. 

Your expression is that of a woman exhausted. 

Toshinori is suddenly aware of his own bulk, his own weight. Gently, he presses a hand to your cheek as he pushes himself up and off of you. His muscles burn — and pulling out of you makes his entire chest ache. 

The feeling wrings a gasp out of you. 

You exhale slowly, through pursed lips. Then, you brace yourself up on your elbows and hang your head. Toshinori flops gracelessly onto his back, his arms and legs spread with his half-hard cock sloped against his stomach. Your slick is coating him. His pants are half down around his ankles, and his usual up-right bangs have sagged. From heat or exhaustion, you're not sure. 

It sure as hell is cute. 

"You okay?" you ask after a second, taking him in as he begins to catch his breath. 

"Oh, yea, just peachy," he rumbles. The thousand-yard stare into the evening air is a hell of a thing on him. 

It makes you bark out a laugh.

Toshinori lolls his head to the side lazily, taking you in.

Your knees and elbows are bleeding. You're picking out the gravel stuck to your palms. You're in no better of a state — your pants are half on, wrenched down over your riding boots, and your uniform's top is pushed up over your breasts. His orgasm is leaking out of you, and the insides of your thighs are coated with your own arousal. Your hair is a mess. 

You're both messes.

You laugh again — and his own laugh starts shortly thereafter. Before you two know it, you're both locked in a laughing match that only ends when you try to reach to shove his shoulder. Your abs burn. Toshinori tries to muscle the grin off his face but fails.

Fuck. 

Fuck, that feeling hasn't gone away. 

It wasn't guilt.

Mayday, mayday, abort, abort, it wasn't guilt. He's smiling at you in the moonlight, looking so utterly wrecked and handsome and gentle—

His hand moves, a single crux finger gracing the curve of your arm soothingly. It's slow. Tentative. Hesitant. Not too much, not too little. 

Toshinori's voice is rough with sheepishness.

"Are we, uh, are we never gonna talk about this, too?" he asks. 

The touch and the question make your heart kick into a stutter. 

You swallow roughly.

"I..." you drop your head, as you wet your lips; play it cool, "Is it something you... want to talk about?"

"...Do you?"

A non-answer.

Your lashes flutter as your stare widens. You open your mouth, about to say something, but suddenly both of your phones are blaring with a city-wide alert. 

It takes a second for it to register — and as suddenly as the moment came, it went. 

ALERT, ALERT, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, MULTIPLE HOSTAGES, ARMED GUNMAN, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, ALERT, ALERT!  

You're struggling to haul your pants up as All Might fumbles with his belt. You hop on one foot, cursing as he scrambles for his phone in the gravel.

"You gotta be kidding me," he grits quietly, thumbing through the notification as you struggle in the middle distance behind him, tripping into your pack as you try and button your pants. 

"Time to go?" you ask pathetically as you try to ignore the feel of after-sex between your legs. 

"I guess that conversation is going to have to wait until later," he says apologetically, bending to grab your helmet. He offers it as you shrug on your pack; there's a sudden cocky confidence seeping back into his posture, "So let's make this quick, shall we?"

You swallow down a rush of worship. 

"I guess so," you remark easily, again trying your best to seem cool. That's your whole persona after all. Little miss spiteful, cold, rough-around-the-edges...

Beautiful, perfect, lovely, Toshi muses as you shove your helmet on and jut your chin his way. You flick your eyes toward the edge of the building.

He's already got a running start. 

"After you, All Might."

"Race you there, Derecho." 

[morganalatina21]

Way too far gone - Kimi Antonelli

The one where your friends can't take another night of you rambling about the guy you're in love with

or

Where, for the first time, is Kimi who is gonna hear what you really feel

inspired by friends - chase atlantic

Warnings: f!reader, english is not my first language, not proof read, use of yn, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, use of "good girl", alcohol.

Kimi's phone rang, waking him up from dreaming with his eyes open. On the background the lights and sounds from the tv on his hotel room lit up the ambient, the only sources of any movement. The young driver looked at the screen, seeing an unfamiliar name shining on the screen: Gabriel.

Sure, they were both rookies starting their first season on formula 1 together, but they weren't exactly close enough for him to be calling Kimi on a monday night, after the chaos at the Australian Grand Prix.

"Hello?" Gabriel yelled at the other side of the line, trying to hear his own voice. The music was loud and rythmic, which honestly made the italian happy that his friend was still able to party even after a DNF on the very first race. "Kimi?"

"Mate! Is everything okay?"

"I am fine." He paused, almost as if he was looking for somebody. "But to be honest, it's not someone's night." In the background, Kimi could hear someone whining, probably drunk, complaining about something. "Are you too busy to come and get us?"

"No." He answered, pressing his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, getting up and choosing something out of the pile of clothes he had to organize to travel to China very soon. "But can you at least tell me what`s going on?"

"Uhm... sure." After a few seconds the music was almost completely muffled and Gabriel sighed. "So, I went out clubbing with Isa, and on the bathroom she ran into a pretty drunk Y/n."

At the sound of your name, he physically perked up, back immediately rigid and the phone now on his hand.

"Y/n? Y/n L/n?"

"Yep. That one." He sighed again and swallowed. "Completely alone, dozing in and off, and apparently her friends left her alone at the club. I didn't actually understand most of what she said, but I know I got your name on some sentence, so... here we are."

"Okay, I'll- I'll come get her." Kimi was now kicking some shoes on and grabbing the keys to the rented car. "Just send me the address and I'll be on my way."

Before he could hang up, Kimi was already ou the door and frantically pressing the elevator button.

On the drive there, his thoughts were uneven, you recently told him about some weird things your friends have been saying a lot, and how it was all stuck inside the brain so bad it was impossible to shut down, keeping you up at night.

His hands squeezed the wheel and he bit his lip, promising himself silently he'd first hear you out instead of immediately cursing them off, after all, they were your friends.

Gabriel was waiting outside of the pub, purple neon lights making his eyes seem bigger and his hair darker. He waved once he saw Kimi and smiled tightly.

"Hey. She's inside, still with Isa. Come on." The brazilian driver guided him through the crowd, both with caps and heads tilted down to not be recognized so easily. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know who else to call. I offered taking her to the hotel and let her crash on the couch, I've done it before, but she refuses."

"Is okay." He shrugged. "Dios mio, Y/n."

The sight was one Kimi had never seen on you before. The make up was smudged on all directions and eyes watery, looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time, head moving absentmindedly without any real pattern, head attached to the neck from all the sweat and arms shaking slightly from the cold tides you were pressed against.

Isabella, Gabi's girlfriend, had one of your hands cupped between hers in her lap, and she seemed to be trying so hard to keep you awake at the bare minimum.

"I got it from here, thanks mate!"

"No problems. Come on, Isa."

You barely noticed your source of heat leaving, just sniffed and let your head hang against the wall.

Kimi squatted down to be on eye-level with you, trying to steal your attention naturally, and when it happened, there was a glimpse behind your eyes.

"Hey, you look like him." You muttered almost to yourself, and then louder: "You really look just like him."

Holding out a hand, with the index finger you pressed against his right cheek, almost testing if he was real, and once the test came out positive, he felt the whole hand holding his face.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. Just like him." You sniffed once more, nostrils congested and drippy from all the crying that also ruined your make up. "But my friends- uh- where did my friends go?" Looking around, finally realising Isabella was no longer holding you.

"They just left, and now I'm here to take care of you, miss."

"My friendssss" Kimi now recognized, the one whining drunkly at the call was, infact, you. "Fuck, I'm really that unloveable." To that, he opened up his mouth to question, but you were too far gone rambling. "It's whatever, i guess, I mean, it's not great, but hey- at least I got a handsome face like you now staring at me."

"I think that's enough for tonight, come on."

Gently, he held his arms out, framing your curled up body and reaching for your elbows and pulling you to stay in your feet. A little off-balanced, but he could work with that.

"Let's go home."

His arms were shoved off at the blink of an eye, your hand still hanging in the air from pushing you away, back now fully glued to the wall behind you.

"Hit the brakes, man." You were slurring your words and barely managing to stay put in your heels, but your eyes were feisty. "I'm not walking into no stranger's car, I still have some self respect, 'kay? I can still think, fucker."

"What-"

Kimi explored every inch of your face, looking for a shaking sign of a unfunny prank, but he found nothing except some anger and that same glimpse.

"Are you serious? Love, it's me."

Your bottom lip quivered before you gulped, still not moving and looking at him with cold fear. Arms up, trying his best to not seem remotely scary, he approached you step by step, dragging his feet on the floor in order to not be too quick and scare you away. He did not know what he would've done if you ran off frightened and locked yourself in the bathroom, or worse, got lost in the streets.

"Okay, see? Calm down."

He was halfway believing in the way your expression softened and arms were hanging on the sides of your body, letting him in.

You blinked once, twice, before melting and craning the neck and taking his lips onto yours.

This was definetely not what he was expecting but gave in anyway, reciprocating the kiss and enveloping your shaking body in his arms. You tasted like vodka and some energy drink, most likely Red Bull, and he made a mental note to fake argue with you about giving his competition money.

"Come on, baby. Let's go home."

You grunted out of frustration. "Dude, what is your problem? I already said to you, I'm not going to bed with you just because you look like him. Just get a fucking grip and let us both enjoy what we still can."

"Y/n I'm serious."

Your brows furrowed. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm telling you. I'm Kimi."

"No, see," You pushed him only a few centimeters away, but your right hand was still on his forearm. "We are not allowed to say that name here." You said, matter-of-factly, waving a finger around. "So I don't know how you fucking know that name, just drop it."

"Y/n L/n, I am Andrea Kimi Antonelli, not just some guy who looks like him. Gabi called me."

The smug facade on your face disappeared more and more every second and he was getting impatient.

"No." You whined. "Kimi would not come for me. He would- he would not. Why would he? He wouldn't. No."

The italian's heart skipped a beat. Is that what you really thought of him? Heck, he knew you weren't dating but at least you should know he was not some prick.

You had to know. Right?

"Baby, I know you're not feeling good." He started, moving his forearm around to hold your hands into his. "But you need to let me take care of you, per favore."

With a sniff, your mind collapsed noticing his hand, the leather bracelet he always wore and huge rings framing his large and veiny hands, the ones you knew so goddamn well and fantasized about a promising ring on the ring finger, and you'd be wearing one exactly alike.

He really was Kimi.

You had kissed him thinking he was someone else.

You rambled to him about him.

And he was there.

"Oh, fuck."

Detaching your back from the wall, you let Kimi hold your shoulders and guide both of you through the crowd, out the main door and into the car.

The realization that it was really him dawned on you with an unrequited dose of sobreity and now tears of embarassment clung onto your eyes. You were shivering, blood pressure so low the temperature was running down to the point of almost hitting your teeth.

"I'm sorry." You managed to cough out on the middle of the ride, curled up in a ball on the passanger seat, looking out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"We'll talk at the hotel, okay?"

Fuck, that's exactly what you didn't want. It meant you'd have to go all the way up to his hotel room, expose your feelings and explain everything you did that night while still being tipsy.

You just wanted to go to your hotel room, take a hot shower just to get the sticky drinks you spilled on yourself off and breakdown under a pair of covers watching tv and crying yourself to sleep.

But now you knew, your relationship with Kimi was never going to be the same.

To you, everything was awkward. The car ride, walking into the hotel room and greeting people with a head nod, the elevator, everything. To Kimi, it was just mildly uncomfortable, but he didn't remembered the last time he was uncomfortable with you.

You pressed the button to your level, but when it came, he just held your waist and pressed for the elevator to close.

His hotel room was a bit chaotic, never being big on organization he'd most of the time just let thing on sight in order to not forget them. The tv was still on, bed sheets a mess, clothes thrown in the ground and a laptop upside down on the couch.

That was the first time you were in that hotel room of his, which was odd.

"Okay, do you wanna talk first?" He asked, handing you a bottle of water from the minibar. You grabbed it, but didn't open, sitting down on the couch, whilst he sat on the edge of the bed. "Fine by me."

He kicked his shoes off. "I want to start with what' been bugging me the most." You avoided meeting his eye once again, knowing they were very much trained on you. "Did you really think I was someone else when you kissed me?"

Swallowing hard, you still didn't find the voice so the best next option was just a shy nod.

"Did you do that before?" Again, just a nod. "Why?"

Now you met his eyes, a pang of pride filling you at the sight of his almost angry expression.

"Why do you care?" He tilted his head to the side, almost in a 'really?' state of mind. "No, really. Why do you care so much, Kimi? The fuck is it to you to ask me that?"

"Because I care about you. About us."

"Us?" You laughed dryly at that, tightening the grip on the water bottle. "Fine, let's talk about it. What is 'us', exactly? Huh?"

"The fuck- where is that coming from?"

"Because honestly, I thought I could take it, being your nothing until you decided you were done with me, but since we're already here, let's do it. Let's solve this." You untangled your legs, ready to get up and leave any time you needed.

"Done with you? Why would I be done with you, love?"

It hurt. Hearing him call you love after pushing yourself away for days, believing you were better and moving on from him, but now, as he asked you with the softest puppy eyes ever and being so caring, you wanted to give in and throw all your mini progress away.

But even if you did, he wouldn't have it. You knew he would not settle until understanding what was coming out of your mouth.

So, taking a deep breath, you held your tears inside.

"Let's face it, Kimi. We never were something grounded enough, and now, we would be even less. For fucks sake, you're in F1 now! I'm so fucking proud of you, but I know that, as each day go by, you'd be met with everything, everyone, that you could have, and I know what that can do to someone. Ollie already cheated on his girlfriend, and I'm not even your girlfriend, I'm nothing to you."

"We're not dating. You, for whatever reason, refuses to have sex with me so we're not even fuck buddies, and besides those little meeting we have to hook up we barely speak, so I wouldn't call us friends with benefits."

"And I just know, that when you'll get out there you'll realise I'm nothing special, and I was letting you lead me on because I was taking what I could still have from you. So please just fucking tell me I never meant anything to you so we could both move on from this and-" Kimi was kissing you.

At some point, in between your rambling, he got up and was walking towards you; amidst the kissing was when you noticed you've been crying.

It angered you how your body became a puddle in his hands, how no matter the pain it would come after this, you still leaned into him, wanted him.

That was what your friends were always talking about: how you craved him, and he let you stick around to have someone he knew he had control over. This must've been like the thousandth time you kissed, but it always gave you butterflies like it was the first one.

He stopped the kiss first, hovering over the couch. His swollen red lips, his big brown eyes staring at you.

"I couldn't sit there and watch you talk bad about yourself, love. I couldn't."

He watched without even blinking as your eyes just watered more, becoming bigger and more pleading, man was in awe with your reaction, lips quivering as you where almost whimpering. His hands slowly came up, cupping your cheeks to make sure you kept looking at him. A masterpiece of how beautiful you were, silently begging for him.

"Please Kimi, don't do this. Don't be mean." You whispered to his face. "Don't do this, please, please don't."

He delivered a quick peck to your chapped lips. "I'm not being mean, vita mia. I want you, I've never wanted anyone else, please believe me. I only want you."

You didn't know. You truly couldn't tell if the blink in his eyes was him being sincere or if your drunken brain was playing some sick prank at you.

Your soul wanted to believe him, your heart couldn't take another breaking, not again. But fuck, you wish you could consult someone else that wasn't drunk or completely infatuated by this man.

"Cara mia, let me show you. Please?"

You sighed.

Fuck it.

Leaned in just the slightest and bit his lip, pulling him towards you.

He layed all his body weight on you, dropping the laptop to the floor and having his hands clamping your sides, feeling you up on top of your club clothes.

"Cara mia, I need to know how you taste like." Kimi's voice was shaking even though his touch was firm.

Your breath hitched on your throat, slightly nodding to him. After two more pecks he started making his way down on you, taking his time on your neck, which he knew was a weak spot.

He kept going lower and lower, staring to push your skirt up until he found your folds, pulling your panties down to your knees, still letting them hanging from your heels.

"Fuck! Oh fuck!" You gasped as his tongue found your clit.

"Oh you're so wet already." He murmured, holding your thighs so they wouldn't close on his head, practically tongue-kissing your pussy. "Suck." He ordered, sticking his middle and ring finger in your mouth.

Kimi pulled your thighs and started using his big shoulders to hold them just the perfect angle to be with his lips into your core. Feeling like his fingers were wet enough, he pulled them out and shoved into you.

"Let me hear you." And you obliged, letting your lips hang and allowing your sounds to come out.

"K-kimi, fuck! Your fingers are so good, they've always been, but oh god- your tongue. Yes, please, yes."

You and Kimi never went much further than handjobs, this was the first time any of you were getting a head from the other.

And dear God, it felt amazing. Like heaven, and then hell and then heaven again. Kimi was leading you to your little death and probably what was after it too.

Your high was getting higher and higher, and Kimi was noticing it, stretching his hands to play with your nipples, stimulating you even more and letting your thighs clench his head.

You screamed, feeling his lips vibrate against your poor overstimulated cunt from his own moaning, fingers intertwined on the dark curls, pulling him in, almost as if you wanted him to enter you right there.

"You're pulsating, cara." He moaned. "Best pussy ever."

"You liked the way I taste?"

"I loved it."

"Can I taste you next?"

His eyes were blown wide, he was sucking on his fingers to get even more of your flavor, but that knocked him into reality.

With one final kiss on your clit, he pulled himself onto his feet and started undoing his belt. You slipped onto the floor and readied yourself on your knees in front of him.

Pulling his already hard cock out, he stared at you while you made contact with his angry red tip, giving it kitten licks.

"Don't be a tease." He warned, holding his dick by the base and, with the other hand, caressing your cheek. "Blow me like I'm yours."

And you did.

Started sucking the tip, bringing your hands up through his thighs until getting to his balls, massaging them as you guide your head closer and closer to his pelvis.

Using your tongue at the bottom, forcing your throat to relax and take all of him, which caused you to cough. Kimi held your hair in a pony tail, guiding you gently.

"Fuck! Don't do that." He hitched his breath and tighten his grip on your head when you moaned with your full mouth on him. "I'm not gonna last."

"Then cum on my tongue."

Holding your head with both his hands now, his thrusts on your mouth became more assured, harder but more careful. He moaned loudly, throwing his head back.

"Cazzo, Y/n- I'm-"

The taste of cum, nobody warned you before, was terrible. It was hot and sticky, almost like some kind of melted plastic, and it made you cough with him still on your mouth. But his dark huge orbs were staring at you.

So you swallowed with difficulty, and already started working your tongue on the bottom part of him again.

Grunting, Kimi pulled you up on your feet, kissing you, allowing your taste in his mouth and his taste in yours to mix.

He lied you back down on the couch, your legs immediately spreading to allow him in. His dick, already hardening, grazed against your wet pussy, making you quiver and lightly buck your hips up, chasing more.

Taking one of his hands from the top of your head he rubbed his dick around your folds, its tip massaging your clit.

"Who's being a tease now?"

He smiled brightly, aligning his length to your entrance. With one nod from you, he started invading your body.

Your mouth hang open, and he made sure to capture every single one of your moans into his own lips, feeling your tight embrace on his already stimulated dick.

And, dear God, was Kimi thick, stretching you out, feeling like he was going to rip you in half. His hands came up again, one caressing the top of your head and the other playing with your nipple, trying to ease it up on you. Meanwhile, your hands were holding onto his shoulders for dear life, legs already closing on him once again.

"Fuck, bella (beautiful), you're tight." He moaned on your neck. "It feels amazing."

"Kimi you're- its- everything. I can feel it all." You were babbling, trying to make sense of your words when there was none.

All you could think, taste, smell, feel and hear was Andrea Kimi Antonelli. You didn't know where you ended and he began, and honestly? You didn't want to know.

"Cara mia, I'm not trying to rush you, but please can I move?"

"Y-yes."

The alcohol, still buzzing in your blood, kept you numb to the pain, so he was free to move as quickly as he wanted, thrusting into you with hard slaps, forcing moans out of you.

"You feel so fucking good." Kimi whispered in your ear between grunts and sighs. "So, so good. You're taking me so fucking well, baby. Such a good girl."

His shit eating grin appeared as he felt you clenching around his thickness, and that's when an idea flashed his mind.

"How are you feeling?"

"Feels amazing, I need it more." You straightened your arms, holding onto his back, sticking your nails into his skin, pulling all of Kimi more and more towards your body.

"Do something for me?" You tried to look as he slowed down his pace. With one hand, he held your head and threw it back, off the edge of the couch, meeting your images in a huge mirror on the wall.

Kimi had a wide smile, ear to ear, as he rocked his hips into yours slowly, while you were a moaning mess, the make up even messier around your eyes, chest rising up and down. As a matter of fact, Kimi pulled your shirt up your tits to expose them, giving them a light slap, smile never leaving his face.

"Do you see yourself? Look at you, so pretty, so full of me." You moaned, he was starting to pick up the pace. He bent a little, just enough to reach your ears, still looking at you through the mirror. "How dare you say you're not mine?" His tone was rough, and it made your insides clench.

Kimi moaned as you kept squeezing his cock and pulling him to you as a desperate woman, like you needed him to breath.

"Fuck, baby! Can I- I'm way too far gone."

"Please."

His movements became erratic and uneasy as he approached his little death, holding your hair in a fist to keep you looking at the mirror, ableing you to watch as his grip on your waist got tighter and his dick thicker, pulsating inside you and finally pulsating his cum deep into your walls, who were clenching and pushing you to your own high.

"Come on, just give me one more." Zarping his arm around your waist he held you up, moving your body at his will like a doll. "Just one more, for me."

As if on command, your body gave in, scratching even more his body, your back arching from the couch, shaking and toes curling. Through the mirror you could see Kimi watching your every move, huge smile on his lips.

Getting down from your high, your whole mind was buzzing and blank, brain fucked just like your body.

"Are you okay?" He kissed you throughout the jawline. "Was I too rough?"

"You're amazing, Kimi." Words slurred, eyes blinking long. "It was awesome."

Slowly, the Italian retrieved, pulling his length, now soft, off of you. You sighed, feeling heavy and empty.

You sensed him moving around but refused to open your eyes, too afraid he'd be leaving you, scared to go back to the reality that your heart would be broken around once again.

"Vita?" He bopped your nose, and you looked at him. Raising his right hand, you spotted something on his right finger, simulating a ring. "I made it with a string of your hair that got stuck in my hand."

"I'll buy you a ring tomorrow and properly ask, but that's just so you don't have any more doubts."

"You don't even know if I'll say yes."

"Oh I'm not worried about that."

You and Kimi woke up the next day with knocks on the door. He was laying on top of you, barely being able to breathe, he grunted and blinked, eyes instantly checking on you.

"They woke you too?" You nodded, turning to the side to keep sleeping.

"It's your room, deal with it."

He rolled his eyes, pulling the covers to his hips and getting up, body completely naked except for that.

"Is Gabi." Kimi mumbled, looking through the peeking glass. "Hey mate."

"Heeeey." With the door open, you could hear the brazilian's smile as he spoke. "I was going to ask if you guys kissed ad made up, but I guess that's pretty clear now."

"Yeah, she's feeling waaaaay better now." Kimi smirked, throwing a glance in your direction.

You buried your head on the pillow and groaned, fuck, how did you guys not noticed last night that this couch was uncomfortable as hell?

March 23, 2025

[pankesitopank]

More thoughts about han eating you out like that jijiji

wc: 1.3k

cw: oral fixation, pussy drunk Han, crack, praise, unhinged behavior.

note: hehe i loved it loll. its kinda short, but i think its good... i hope ya like it :3

It all started completely normal, just the two of you lying in bed watching some series on tv, him with his head lying between your legs, simply enjoying the warmth and softness of your thighs between his head, everything normal, comfortable even, until out of nowhere, like a girl ovulating Han began to grow a need... a dirty need to be between your legs, but not lying down, but with his face buried in your pussy, maybe that need arose from nowhere, from a memory, from a fantasy or from a scene from the series, you don't know exactly because the truth is you weren't even paying that much attention to him or the serie, you preferred to keep yourself entertained with your phone and play with his soft, wavy hair that occasionally tickled the inside of your thighs and part of your lower abdomen.

"babe" he said as he turned around to be lying on his stomach.

You looked at him curiously at the sudden act

"i want to eat you out" he said seriously but with an easily identifiable desire in his eyes.

"what?" you said trying to hold your smile.

"let me eat you out" he repeated without a hint of shame while you felt that familiar twist in your stomach, which more specifically was beginning to have some repercussions in your lower area.

"Hannie, baby... You're so annoying..."

was the first thing that came out of your mouth at the same time that you settled yourself to sit up straight, away from the danger of having his face so close to your most intimate parts, obviously trying to annoy him, although deep down that shameless and ultra horny attitude of his ignited something in you.

"And hungry." He patted your legs and grabbed them, giving you a little tug to get you closer again. "Bon appétit, baby. I'm ready."

You laughed and settled back down, maintaining eye contact and trying to act sexy, just to mess with him. Just to make him shut up. Just to watch his cocky grin flicker.

But the second your core got closer enough to his face, Han changed.

His hands came up and gripped your thighs hard, nails digging in, and he looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes like he'd just seen God.

“Holy shit.”

His voice dropped, hoarse with awe.

“You're not joking. You're actually gonna let me?”

Before you could tease him, before you could say you were just playing around— he closed the distance between his mouth and your pussy.

Mouth open.

Tongue out.

Eyes fluttering shut like it was a holy experience.

At first, you yelped—because Jesus Christ, you weren’t ready for that.

He moaned as your thighs settled around his head, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated right against your core. His tongue wasted no time, everywhere at once—sliding up your slit, dipping inside, curling messily around your clit like he was starving.

“Fuck—Jisung—!”

He groaned again. Arms wrapped around your thighs tighter. Hips shifting beneath you humping the bed. You felt his legs lift—his feet kicking up into the air—and when you glanced down, you nearly laughed.

There he was.

Shoes on.

Legs bent, feet in the air like a damn cartoon character, munching like his life depended on it.

“Oh my god,” you laughed breathlessly, hips twitching. “You’re so fucking stup—"

You didn't even have the chance to finish that little word when an unexpected moan escaped your lips.

He hummed in response. Hummed. On purpose. His whole head shook side to side like he was trying to devour you from every angle, and the vibration of his moan shot straight through your spine.

“Sh’fuckin’ good,” he slurred into you. “Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, I’m—I’m losing it—”

With one hand you tightly gripped one of your stuffed animals that was left to the side trying to have some kind of grip with the ground, while the other gripped the back of his hair pulling him impossible closer as your thighs trembled against his head. His tongue flicked wildly over your clit, messy and fast, his nose pressing tight against you, and every time you squirmed or gasped or tried to lift off his face, he moaned louder and yanked you back down.

“Nuh-uh.”

His voice was wrecked, drunk with it.

“Don’t run. you stay.”

You looked down and saw him again—completely pussy drunk. Lips soaked, cheeks flushed, eyes barely open as he blinked up at you like you were the sun and the moon, eating you like you were his breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

His feet were still up. Kicking absently.

His tongue was still working—so fast, so messy.

And you laughed again, delirious.

“Jisung, you look so pathetic right now.”

He whined into you, pulling back for just a second to breathe, face glistening with slick.

“Why would you say that?”

His voice cracked.

“That’s so hot.”

You tried to speak again, but he dove right back in. This time slower. Sloppier. Savoring you.

He moved his head in lazy circles, tongue swirling around your clit in drawn-out, wet spirals. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs shake. You felt him mumble something again—something incoherent—and his fingers squeezed your thighs like he was holding in a full-body shiver.

“Fuckin’ heaven, baby,” he muttered. “Like candy, no, li—like melted sugar—fuck—I could live here. Just move in. Put up curtains and shit—”

You choked on a laugh.

“You’re seriously—talking right now?”

He moaned, shameless.

“Can’t help it. Tastes too fuckin’ good..."

Brain’s gone. All gone. It’s just pussy now. Pussy thoughts only.

You rolled your hips into his face out of pure instinct, and the second you did, his whole body jerked. He let out a sharp cry against you, sucking your clit into his mouth and holding it there with such desperate greed that you almost blacked out.

That was when you realized—he wasn’t teasing anymore.

He was gone. Eyes rolled back, tongue twitching, head tilting side to side, up and down in slow, pussy-worshipping movements while his feet kicked rhythmically in the air.

You reached down to touch his cheek and he shuddered violently, grinding his mouth against you like he was getting off on it.

“You’re gonna make me cum just from this,” you gasped.

His whole body stiffened under you—and then he moaned so loudly it echoed through the room. You felt the deep guttural sound shake through your clit, and your orgasm slammed into you so hard your thighs clamped around his head.

He kept going.

He didn’t even flinch.

He just held you there, face buried, tongue licking you through every pulse and aftershock like he was drinking the orgasm straight from the source.

When you finally get off him, your legs barely working, Han was a wreck.

His face was red. Mouth shiny and swollen. Hair a disaster. Hoodie drenched at the collar. And he was smiling like he’d just seen heaven and was still tasting it.

He blinked up at you dreamily, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“...That was so good I think I blacked out.”

You laughed, collapsing on the bed.

He rolled over and immediately nuzzled into your side, face still damp, arms wrapping around your waist like a koala.

“we should do this more often.”

You snorted. “You’re insane.”

He grinned, sleepy and wrecked.

“Insane for you, baby.”

And then, as if it were the most casual thing in the world—

“...Round two after a snack?”

[bytemee]

toxic till the end — yu jimin.

synopsis. karina is the kind of girl everyone knows—confident, popular, and always the best-dressed. when you get paired with her for a school project, you're shocked, but things only get worse when she starts showing her toxic side.

pairing. toxic & rich!meangirl!jimin x loser(?)! skater!reader

warnings. toxic relationship (manipulation, physical violence, aggressive language, jealousy) sexual content, and let me know if there’s more. time skips/rushed so i didn’t turn this into a full fic

words. 5.8k

authors note. i’m always making reader a loser because im projecting sorry. this is also HEAVILY based on the music video

navigation. main masterlist.

you know karina. everyone does. she's the kind of girl who owns every room she walks into. her flawless skin, the designer clothes, and the air of absolute certainty that follows her everywhere—she's untouchable. it doesn't matter whether it's school, the mall, or some exclusive party in the city. karina is always the best-dressed, the most confident, the one everyone wants to be around. she has everything—the best grades, the richest friends, and a mansion that could probably fit your entire apartment.

but you've never been part of her world. not by a long shot.

so when the teacher announces the project pairings, you half-expect to be stuck with someone you barely know. but the name you hear makes your stomach twist for a second—karina. you blink and glance around the room, but sure enough, she's looking at her phone like it's the only thing that matters. her eyes don't even leave the screen as the teacher explains the assignment, and when she does glance up, it's just long enough to give a faint nod.

yunjin, your best friend, glances at you with a sympathetic look, but all you can do is shrug in response.

the first time you try talking to her about the project, she's half-listening. you're sitting at the library table, and karina's doodling on the edge of her notebook, looking at her phone again. you make a suggestion about the research, but she just shrugs.

"sure, whatever. i'm good with whatever you want to do." she mutters, glancing back down at her phone. you bite your lip, trying to think of another way to get her attention. you push a little harder, trying to make this work, "you sure? it's a group project, we both have to decide."

karina just gives you that look—one that says, i don't care what you say, because the outcome is the same.

you pause, trying to gauge her reaction, but karina's already back to scrolling through her feed, the sound of her phone clicking lightly in the background. you're not sure if you should push any further. it's clear she's not invested in this—in you—and that stings more than you want to admit.

"okay, then..." you say, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "we'll just go with whatever you think is best."

karina doesn't even look up when she replies. "yeah, exactly."

the rain catches you off guard the next day. you didn't bring an umbrella, and now you're standing near the campus entrance, your skateboard tucked under your arm, waiting for the rain to let up. you're not in a rush to get home—mostly because you know it'll be a long, dull evening. your roommates will probably be out partying or something. and without yunjin, you feel like the odd one out.

so you stand there, letting the rain soak through your jacket as you watch everyone else scramble for shelter.

then, out of nowhere, you hear the hum of an engine. karina's sleek car pulls up, its tinted windows glinting in the rain. for a moment, you think she's going to ignore you, like she does every other time. but instead, she rolls down the window, her face leaning out slightly.

"get in," karina commands, her voice cool and smooth, like she doesn't really care one way or another.

you blink, a little thrown off by the offer. "what?"

it takes you a moment to process her words, and she looks a little impatient when she repeats herself. "get in the car. it's raining."

"um, thanks. but i'm fine, really," you stammer, trying to smile and hoping she doesn't notice the nervousness in your voice.

but karina just raises an eyebrow, like you've said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"don't be stupid," she says, a little too loudly, her tone a little too harsh. you glance down, and your cheeks burn in embarrassment. karina doesn't strike you as the type to offer rides to just anyone. but then again, you're not anyone, are you? you're her partner for the project. you're technically part of her world for the moment, no matter how temporary that might be.

with a reluctant sigh, you climb into the car. the door shuts with a soft thud, and you find yourself in the passenger seat, a little too close to her than you expected.

the inside of her car smells faintly of vanilla. she's wearing a floral perfume that reminds you of the spring, the kind of scent that leaves you a little breathless, a little giddy, and a little too happy.

she's not even looking at you, and that's probably a good thing.

you clear your throat, trying to ignore the heat in your face.

"uh...where are we going?" you ask, not sure if you should say something else. the air feels awkward between you two, still heavy from the silence of your earlier encounters.

karina glances at you for a moment before turning back to the road, her eyes fixed on the street ahead. "to my place. we still need to finish the project, right?"

karina's house is nothing short of a mansion. it stands in the middle of a large estate, with a pristine garden and a driveway that looks longer than your entire block. you can't help but feel small as you step out of the car, your skateboard tucked under your arm like a prop rather than something you actually use.

"you can leave your skateboard in the garage," karina says as she leads you into her house. "we'll be in my office."

the room is much like the rest of her house—everything pristine, clean, and far more impressive than anything you've ever had. she's already seated at a desk, pulling up the files for your project, while you stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of where to sit.

"you're... sure this is fine?" you ask, glancing at the luxurious surroundings. "i don't want to get in the way."

karina barely looks up from her computer. "you're not in the way," she says dismissively, clicking through some documents. "just sit down."

you do as she says, taking a seat next to her. as she leans forward, you catch a glimpse of her profile, the line of her neck and jaw, the way her lips curve into a frown when she's deep in thought. she's beautiful, you realize. she's more than beautiful. she's almost...

...perfect.

"you're staring," karina says, looking up at you, her dark eyes fixed on yours. you feel a flicker of panic, not sure what to say. "i...sorry," you stammer, not sure why the word comes out like that. you didn't mean to stare. but karina doesn't look bothered, her face expressionless.

the project progresses in silence for a while. karina occasionally makes a comment or offers a suggestion, but it's clear she's not too invested. you do most of the work, but there's a strange satisfaction in seeing her just there, even if she's not really participating. it's enough to be with her, you think. to spend a few hours in her company, even if she's not paying attention.

by the time the sun begins to set, you're both sprawled out on the floor with the project almost done, the laptop and a few papers strewn around you. you didn't expect to get this much done, and you didn't expect karina to actually stay with you the entire time, even if she was working on her own stuff.

but it's karina who breaks the silence, "do you want to take a break?"

you blink, a little surprised. you've been so focused on the project that you hadn't even thought about taking a break. but now that karina's mentioned it, you realize how much your shoulders ache and how stiff your back is from sitting on the floor for hours.

"uh, sure," you say, trying to sound casual. you sit up, stretching your arms above your head, wincing a little as your muscles protest.

suddenly, you're outside laughing as you both run around karina's expansive yard. you don't even know what it was that started the game of running around her massive yard, laughing as you dodged between trees and jumped over flower beds. the estate was almost overwhelming, the grass so perfectly green and the gardens so lush and well-maintained, but somehow, it was comforting, too.

you're not sure how long you play for, but it feels like a lifetime. karina is faster than you, and her legs carry her across the yard effortlessly. she's light on her feet, almost catlike in the way she moves, and the sunlight catches her dark hair and turns it golden.

when you finally stop, both of you panting and laughing, she sits on the edge of a large ornamental fountain, and you follow, dropping down next to her. it's quiet for a moment—only the sound of your laughter dying down and the trickle of the fountain.

karina looks at you, her eyes meeting yours. there's something about the way she's looking at you, something that makes your heart race and your stomach do flip-flops.

"you're pretty when you smile," she says.

then, in a blink, before you can react, she shoves you into the fountain. cold water splashes up in all directions, drenching you from head to toe. you let out an indignant gasp, but it quickly dissolves into uncontrollable laughter as you sputter, trying to catch your breath between fits of giggles.

"oops," karina says, looking far too pleased with herself, her hand covering her mouth. "my bad."

you wipe water from your eyes, trying to make it look like you're annoyed, but your smile betrays you. "yeah, sure. 'oops.'"

karina bursts into more laughter, the sound high and sweet. it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, and for a moment, you forget that you're soaked. you forget about the project and the fact that you'll have to go home later. all you can focus on is the way karina's blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and the way her smile reaches her eyes, making them shine like stars.

you can't help but stare, transfixed.

she's perfect, you think. perfect and untouchable.

karina stands up, "come on, before you freeze to death." she holds out her hand. you hesitate for a moment, but eventually, your fingers close around hers, and you pull yourself up. she doesn't let go. not even when the two of you are standing side by side, her hand still in yours.

you're not really sure what room you're in now, only that it's not the office anymore. you don't care enough to figure it out, either. the lights are dim, the fireplace crackles softly in the corner, and karina is sitting in your lap. she's holding a towel, gently brushing it over your damp hair to help dry it. her hands move slowly, the motion almost hypnotic. you don't even bother resisting the urge to lean into her touch, her body pressed against yours.

"you should come here more often," she says, her voice low. "it's fun."

she's so close, you can smell her vanilla perfume again. it's intoxicating.

"it is," you murmur, and her eyes flicker up to yours, a smirk on her face.

"i'm glad you agree."

"we should probably finish the project," you say, though it sounds half-hearted even to you.

"maybe later," she says softly, leaning closer. her face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of her breath. she hesitates for just a moment before her lips brush lightly against yours.

your breath catches, and for a second, you're frozen.

you weren't sure what to expect, but the simple touch of her lips leaves you wanting more. her eyes flicker up to yours briefly, searching your face, almost like she's asking if it's okay to keep going. without thinking, you lean forward just enough to close the gap again.

she sighs into your mouth, her hands coming up to cup your face, her fingertips brushing along your jaw. the towel falls away, forgotten, and her arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer. your hands find her waist, tracing up the curve of her spine and the back of her neck.

you're not sure how long the kiss lasts, only that by the time you pull away, your lungs are burning and your head is spinning.

she's smiling, a real smile this time, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed.

"you're blushing," she whispers, tracing her thumb along the line of your jaw.

"i am not," you protest weakly.

"mhm." karina leans in again, her nose brushing against yours.

"are you going to eat that?"

yunjin's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. you blink and realize you're sitting at the table now, a cookie sitting on the plate in front of you.

"hm?"

she points at the cookie. "that. are you gonna eat it?"

"oh," you mutter, realizing you must've been staring at it while lost in thought. "oh, no you can have it jen."

she grabs it, takes a bite, and gives you a weird look. "hey, are you okay? you're kinda spacing out."

"i'm fine, really," you say, taking a sip of tea, though your thoughts are miles away. karina lingers in your mind, no matter how hard you try to shake her. it's been days since your first kiss—though there have been others since. it felt like you were finally starting to get somewhere with karina. and maybe, just maybe, you were actually a little important to her, too.

yunjin eyes you suspiciously, clearly unconvinced, but she lets it slide. she takes another bite of the cookie and changes the subject, just as chaewon slides into the seat next to you.

"ugh, what are you doing with these?" chaewon huffs, leaning in and inspecting your eyebrows like she's some kind of aesthetician. she licks her finger then starts brushing them with her thumb.

"chaewon," you groan, swatting her away. "stop. you're embarrassing me."

"embarrassing you?" she scoffs, rubbing at some invisible flaw on your face. "i'm fixing you, trust me. if anyone's embarrassing you, it's yourself."

yunjin snickers as chaewon wipes a crumb off the corner of your mouth, ignoring your exaggerated protests. "see? better already," chaewon says, looking pleased with herself.

you roll your eyes dramatically but can't help the tiny grin tugging at your lips. she's annoying, sure, but she's like the older sister you never had. it's hard to stay mad when she means well.

before you can shoot back a sarcastic comment, movement across the room catches your eye. karina walks by with her group of friends, laughing about something you can't hear. you straighten in your seat, your heart racing without permission.

"karina!" you call out, raising a hand to get her attention. "hey! come meet my friends!"

your voice echoes just enough to make a few people glance your way, but karina doesn't even spare you a look. she keeps walking, her laughter ringing out as if she didn't hear you—or worse, as if she didn't care.

the table goes quiet. you can feel yunjin and chaewon watching you, but you refuse to meet their eyes, staring instead at the empty space where karina just was. you feel your face heat up, and suddenly, you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"ouch," yunjin mutters under her breath, giving a low whistle. "harsh."

you swallow thickly, the sinking feeling in your stomach growing stronger by the second.

"it's fine," you say, forcing a smile.

"uh, i still wanted to show you that trick i was talking about earlier." you try to shift the focus away from the embarrassment still burning in your chest, but your voice wavers slightly. yunjin and chaewon exchange a quick glance, their concern evident despite their best attempts to hide it.

"trick?" chaewon perks up, "what trick?"

you hesitate, glancing at her and then down at your lap. "just something i've been practicing on my board."

"why didn't you mention this sooner?" chaewon leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, "c'mon, show us! i've been dying to see you pull off something cool."

"but uh, yeah, about that..." you scratch the back of your neck. "i don't have my board with me. so, i can't."

yunjin, who had been quietly finishing her cookie, perks up. "you can use mine!" she says brightly, already digging into her bag. "i brought it with me."

"are you sure?" you ask, a little surprised by the offer. you know she doesn't like anyone touching her skateboard. "i don't want to—"

"it's fine," she assures, waving a hand dismissively. "just show us."

the three of you head outside, and yunjin pulls out her skateboard, handing it to you. it's a little smaller than yours, but it feels sturdy enough. after testing the balance and grip, you roll it forward, nodding with approval. a few minutes later, you nail the trick with ease, a grin spreading across your face as you hold out the board.

"that was awesome!" chaewon squeals, practically bouncing with excitement.

"told you it was cool," yunjin says with a satisfied grin.

"yeah, it was," you reply, grinning wider. "thanks, guys."

you spend the next hour hanging out with them, laughing and joking about nothing in particular. by the time the bell rings, you feel lighter, ready to head home and unwind for the day. as you're saying your goodbyes, a familiar luxury car pulls into the schools parking lot.

the window rolls down, and karina peers out, her gaze locking onto you. "get in," she calls, and it doesn't sound like a question.

"i'm good," you say, shifting your bag onto your shoulder. "i'll walk."

"get in the fucking car," she repeats, louder this time, and there's something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. she glances at your friends before turning back to you, her eyes dark and intense. "or are you too cool to hang out with me now?"

you freeze. yunjin and chaewon exchange a quick look, and suddenly, you're painfully aware that they're witnessing this. karina's gaze never wavers, her lips pressed into a thin line and her brow furrowed. for a moment, you think she might just drive off and leave you standing there.

"okay, fine," you relent, opening the door and climbing into the car. as soon as you're inside, karina speeds off, the tires screeching slightly as she takes a sharp turn. the ride is silent. neither of you speaks. then you notice the car heading in the opposite direction of your house.

"where are we going?" you ask, breaking the silence.

karina doesn't answer, her knuckles white as she grips the steering wheel. her jaw is set, and you can feel the tension radiating from her. you try again, "seriously, where are we—"

"just shut up," she snaps, "please."

"karina—"

"god," she mutters, running a hand through her hair. "you're so annoying."

the words hit you harder than expected, and you flinch, your eyes widening. she's never spoken to you like this before. not ever. "i'm annoying?"

she glances over at you briefly, her eyes narrowed. "yes. you are."

"why?" you ask, genuinely confused. "because i didn't get in your car right away?"

"yes!" karina exclaims, her voice rising in frustration. "exactly!"

you stare at her, taken aback by her reaction along with her response. a million questions race through your head, and you're not sure which one to ask first. karina turns back to the road, and you can tell she's holding back, biting her lip to stop herself from saying something she might regret.

"why do you even care? i was having fun with my friends. why can't you just leave me alone?"

"i don't care," karina spits out, her words sharp and venomous.

"bullshit," you scoff.

"oh, really?" karina raises an eyebrow. the car suddenly stopping in the middle of the road. "fine, then. go be with your friends. see if i care."

your body jerks at the sudden stop, and you grip the seatbelt tightly, your heart hammering in your chest. there's no way she can be serious.

"you're not serious," you mutter, "you're the one who ignored me in the middle of the dining hall. in front of everyone."

karina remains silent, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. the car moves forward again, a little slower this time, and the silence hangs heavily between you. you can't believe she's acting like this.

"just turn around and take me home," you demand.

"no."

"why not?"

"your board's at my place," she says, cutting you off before you can protest. "don't you want it back?"

"i don't need it."

"yeah, you do," she responds, her tone matter-of-fact. "you can't do your stupid little tricks without it."

the word stings. "it's not stupid."

"sure," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "it's not stupid. but it is pointless. and a waste of time."

you swallow hard, your throat dry. you don't know what to say, so you just stare out the window, trying to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. this is a new low, even for karina.

when she parks in front of her house, you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out, waiting by the door while she heads inside. a few moments later, she returns, handing you your board. you take it, inspecting it absentmindedly as karina leans against the doorframe, watching you.

"you never showed me that trick," she says suddenly, her voice softer now.

"yeah, well," you mutter, turning away. "there's a reason for that."

"show me now," she insists, nodding toward the driveway.

you sigh, glancing down at the skateboard. "karina—"

"c'mon, please."

you shake your head, still not meeting her gaze. "forget it."

"it won't take long," she presses, her eyes pleading. "i just wanna see it once."

"why? so you can make fun of me?"

"no," she insists, stepping closer. "i won't. i promise."

without really knowing why, you give in. you roll the board forward and step onto it carefully. as soon as you shift your weight, the board wobbles unnaturally, and before you can react, the screws give way, sending you sprawling onto the ground. pain shoots through your palms and knees as you catch yourself, the board clattering a few feet away.

karina is by your side in an instant, crouching down and reaching for you. "are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

you sit up slowly, grimacing as pain radiates from your arm. your other hand instinctively cradles it, and you notice the sharp throb in your wrist, which is already starting to swell.

"shit," you hiss through clenched teeth, trying to move your fingers but finding it difficult.

"let me see," karina says, her voice soft yet urgent. she reaches for your arm, but you flinch, pulling it back.

"i'm fine," you snap, more out of frustration than anger. the pain and embarrassment are making it hard to think clearly.

"you're not fine," karina counters, her eyes darting between your face and your arm. "we need to get you to a hospital."

"i said i'm fine," you repeat stubbornly, though you know she's right. the pain is getting worse by the second, and you're starting to feel a little lightheaded.

karina sighs, standing up and brushing off her hands. "get in the car," she says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

you don't have the energy to fight her this time. carefully, you push yourself to your feet, wincing as the movement jostles your injured arm. karina is at your side instantly, steadying you with a hand on your back. you want to tell her you don't need her help, but the words die on your tongue.

the ride to the hospital is silent, the tension between you thick and suffocating. karina's grip on the steering wheel is tight, her knuckles white again, but this time her jaw isn't set in anger. instead, she looks... worried. the sight of her like this makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with your arm.

when you arrive at the emergency room, karina parks hastily and helps you inside. the next hour passes in a blur of x-rays, ice packs, and medical jargon. the doctor confirms it's a bad sprain, not a break, and your arm is wrapped in a snug bandage to immobilize it. you're given a sling to wear for the next few weeks and a prescription for pain medication.

it's not until the two of you are cuddled up in bed, her body pressed against yours, her head resting on your shoulder, that she finally breaks the silence. "i'm sorry," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "i didn't mean to hurt you."

"i know," you murmur, reaching up with your good hand to stroke her hair gently. it's the first time she's apologized for anything.

"you're really good," she says softly, "on your board, i mean."

"oh."

"and the tricks you were talking about are cool," she adds, her eyes searching yours.

"thanks."

"i shouldn't have called them stupid."

"no," you agree, your heart aching again, but not as badly this time. "you shouldn't have."

karina nods, her gaze dropping to the sling holding your arm in place. she reaches out, running her fingers over the fabric. "does it hurt?"

"not right now," you reassure her, the painkillers kicking in.

"that's good," she sighs, her head drooping slightly.

you smile faintly, feeling exhaustion wash over you. "you should get some sleep," you suggest, knowing how little sleep she normally gets.

"you first," she mumbles, her eyes closing.

with a soft chuckle, you pull her closer and let yourself drift off.

karina has been acting strange since the accident—but not in a bad way. there's a new quietness to her, a thoughtful edge that wasn't there before. sometimes, you catch her staring at you with an unreadable expression, her lips pressed together like she wants to say something but can't. every time you ask, though, she just shrugs and says, "nothing."

the two of you are back in her office, putting the finishing touches on your project. the hours stretch on, and the golden hues of the setting sun spill through the window, painting the room in soft orange and pink. the light catches on her face, highlighting her features in a way that almost makes her look angelic.

"are you sure?" you ask, tilting your head to study her.

"mhm," karina hums distractedly, turning back to her computer as though the question didn't faze her.

your phone buzzes on the table, drawing both your attention. glancing down, you see a message from yunjin:

"are you busy tonight? we're going to the skate park."

as you start to type out a reply, you notice karina's gaze flick toward your phone. this time, she doesn't bother hiding it, her eyes lingering for a moment too long. you shift uncomfortably, moving your arm in its sling to shield your screen. her eyes narrow slightly, and you see her jaw tighten.

karina studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. then, out of nowhere, she jumps up from her seat, snatching your phone from the table.

"hey! what the hell?" you shoot up from your seat, scrambling to follow her as she storms out of the room.

"what's so important on your phone?" she snaps, holding it just out of your reach.

you frown, struggling to keep up with her as she strides down the hallway. you reach out, grasping for the device, but she dodges your attempts, easily keeping it out of your grasp. "give it back, karina," you say, exasperated.

"why? so you can text yunjin and ditch me?" she retorts, spinning on her heel to face you. "are you really that desperate to hang out with her?"

"what are you even talking about?"

karina ignores your question, turning on her heel and continuing down the hallway. she doesn't look back, and you can feel the frustration bubbling up inside you, mixing with confusion. karina's eyes flash. "don't play dumb. i see the way she looks at you."

"oh, come on. yunjin is just a friend."

"sure she is," karina scoffs, her grip on your phone tightening.

"and what about you lee jae wook? should i pretend i haven't noticed how close you two have gotten?" you suddenly mention. karina freezes, her face going pale. for a moment, she looks almost scared, but it's quickly replaced by anger, her brows knitting together.

her eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer, her voice low and dangerous. "what's that supposed to mean?"

you hold your ground, your own anger rising to meet hers. "it means i see how he looks at you, and how you look at him."

"we're just friends."

"yeah? just like you and i are friends?"

karina opens her mouth to respond, but the words die on her tongue. she hesitates, her eyes flicking away. karina looks away, her knuckles white as she grips your phone. then, as if the tension becomes too much, she turns and heads for the front door.

"where are you going?" you call after her, following her down the hallway.

"out," she says curtly, throwing open the door.

"karina, wait!" you step outside just as she rushes to her car. she fumbles with her keys, but when she tries to start the engine, the car sputters and lets out a puff of smoke.

you cross your arms, standing in the doorway. "looks like your car has other plans. just come back inside before you make things worse."

karina slams her hand against the steering wheel in frustration, her head dropping for a moment as she lets out an audible sigh. she stays there for a few seconds before grabbing your phone and storming back toward the house, her heels clicking sharply against the driveway.

"you're impossible," she mutters under her breath as she brushes past you, her shoulder lightly bumping yours.

"what is your problem, huh? you're the one who started this, stealing my phone like some kid."

she whirls around at that, her eyes blazing. "maybe if you weren't so secretive, i wouldn't have to!"

"secretive?" you laugh bitterly, stepping closer. "says the girl who's been cozying up to lee jae wook every chance she gets!"

karina's jaw clenches, her expression darkening. "i told you, there's nothing between us. why won't you believe me?"

"because," you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. "it's clear there's something between you two. and it's not just friendship."

that's the final straw. before you can react, karina shoves you back, her hands pushing against your shoulders. you stumble, colliding with the edge of a decorative marble statue near the staircase. the wind is knocked out of you as your back hits the solid stone, the force sending a jolt of pain through your injured arm. you grit your teeth, trying not to wince, but the action is futile.

karina freezes as you collide with the marble statue, her eyes widening in shock. but the guilt that flickers across her face is gone in an instant, replaced by frustration.

"what is wrong with you?" she snaps, throwing her hands up. "why do you have to be such a bitch all the time? can't you just admit when you're wrong for once?"

your chest tightens, your heart hammering against your ribcage. the anger in her words stings, and the pain from your fall only adds fuel to the fire. you grit your teeth, pushing yourself off the statue despite the sharp ache radiating from your back. "me? you're the one pushing me into shit because your car won't start."

"because you did something to it!" she yells, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips. "can you prove that?"

karina lets out a bitter laugh, pacing a few steps before spinning to face you again. "of course it was you. i saw you on the security camera you fucking idiot, don't try and deny it. why would i hurt you when i've never done anything but take care of you?"

"take care of me?" you echo incredulously, "you think i owe you something because you let me crash at your place? is that what this is about?"

karina's eyes flash, her frustration boiling over as she throws her hands up in disbelief. "owe me something? you've got to be kidding me. this isn't about owing me—it's about the fact that i've bent over backwards for you, and this is how you repay me? by sabotaging my car and lying to my face?"

"yeah?" you fire back, stepping closer as your voice rises. "you bend over backwards? don't make me laugh, karina. i know you messed with my board. you think i wouldn't notice? the loosened trucks, the scratches that weren't there before? what, was that your idea of 'taking care of me' too?"

karina blinks repeatedly, her eyebrows furrowing together. "are you serious right now? you think i'd stoop that low? god, you're so paranoid it's pathetic."

you scoff, crossing your arms. "paranoid? you're the one who stole my phone and shoved me into a damn statue because i wouldn't let you snoop. spare me the innocent act, karina. if you wanted to screw me over, you could've at least been subtle about it."

her jaw tightens, and she takes a sharp step toward you, closing the gap. her eyes are burning, and you can feel the heat radiating off her skin as she leans closer.

"fuck you," she growls, her voice low and dangerous. "fuck you, and fuck your stupid project. i don't need you, and i don't need this."

her words hit hard, and for a second, you almost waver. then the anger returns, and you square your shoulders, meeting her gaze with just as much fury. "funny, because you sure act like you do. all this—" you gesture between the two of you, "—feels a hell of a lot like need, karina."

she recoils, her face contorting with disgust. "god, do you ever shut up?"

"why don't you make me?"

the words slip out without thinking. the air hangs heavy between the two of you, and for a moment, everything is still. then, before you can react, her hand is fisted in the front of your shirt, and she's kissing you hard. the kiss is messy and rough, a clash of teeth and tongues. karina pushes forward, shoving you back until your body collides with the wall. the impact sends a jolt of pain through your arm, but you barely notice. her mouth is hot and demanding against yours, her teeth grazing your lower lip.

your hand tangles in her hair, tugging hard enough to elicit a low groan from her. the sound spurs you on, and you grip her tighter, pulling her closer until there's no space left between the two of you.

"that's better," karina mutters against your lips, her breath warm against your skin. her hands find the hem of your shirt, slipping under the fabric. her touch is like fire, sending a wave of heat through your entire body.

"shut up," you breathe, tugging at her shirt, "and take this off."

karina smirks against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "bossy, aren't you?" she teases, but her hands are already moving, tugging her shirt over her head and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

[avaawritess]

Short story

Tsukishima Kei x reader

Tsukishima Kei was cold and calculating, never once slipping up, he always made sure everything was neat and kept, always arriving on time.

That was until you waltzed into his life tearing up the routine he had. You were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. All he could do was think about you.

What was it?

Your smile, that makes the room feel warmer and the world brighter? Your eyes, the way they twinkled with delight when you and him endlessly teased one another? Your voice, and that oh so sweet melody that falls from your perfect pink lips? Or maybe it was your kindness that really captivated him.

How you were so adamant on helping children when they were just fine, or that sweet smile that graced your lips when waving at an old lady, or even how you laughed so effortlessly with a random mom on the street because you were so empathetic?

He was so incredibly in love. Especially when you gave him that gorgeous smile you'd bring out only for him, when your eyes would shine with adoration to his touch, when you clung to him when sad. Oh he was in so deep.

And that's just what was happening, you two were on the couch as a rom-com that you convinced him to play to make you feel better.

He made sure to get your favorite snacks even going overboard with extras to last you weeks.

You were sprawled against his chest talking his ear off but it never annoyed him, never because he got to hear your hypnotic voice that made him feel all sorts of things.

"I'm just so tired" you grumble against his neck,"I know I know baby," he hums running his slender fingers through your hair.

"Im right here and we can do anything you want or stay here for the whole night," he said. Oh the way his teammates would tease him to no end if they found out how soft he was for you.

You grumble against his chest nodding as you hand gripped his shirt as to make it known you didn't wanna move.

He was so incredibly in love with everything you did. Even if he thought he was sly he wasn't, his teammates noticed the way he relaxed with you and he'd let you cling to him.

Maybe the cold Tsukishima didn't need to keep a routine? But just needed something to look forward to everyday

[solxamber]

Again its me again of the seraphim request😭

Can you do a part 2 of ‘The Cat’ (i dont know the name, rip💔) with Idia and Rook, Vil!

And do take your time writing this later if you’re busy with the other requests or irl things

Vil, Rook, Idia with 'The Cat'! Reader

hi! I'm pretty sure the cat's name is quite literally just 'The Cat' lol and thanks for waiting <3

Part 1 with Jade, Jamil, Azul

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil doesn’t tolerate nonsense, but your catlike, elusive nature is an exception he begrudgingly accepts. He knows you're always nearby, watching with those sharp, observant eyes, even if you’ve seemingly vanished from the room.

There’s a part of him that appreciates your ability to slip away from prying eyes—though he'd never admit it aloud.

"You really must learn to make an entrance properly," Vil remarks, not bothering to glance up from his mirror as you reappear, perched silently on a windowsill.

"And ruin the fun?" you reply smoothly, your voice lilting with amusement. "I thought you appreciated subtlety."

Vil's eyes narrow in the mirror, his reflection catching yours. "Subtlety is an art. Vanishing into the shadows is a parlor trick. Though, I suppose you have your charm."

You smirk, lazily stretching. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Vil sighs but can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Don't push it."

Rook Hunt:

Rook finds your elusive and catlike behavior endlessly fascinating, like a puzzle he’s always eager to solve. The thrill of the hunt, of tracking you down in your hiding places or catching a glimpse of your vanishing figure, delights him more than he lets on.

“Ah, mon cher mystère, always slipping through my fingers,” Rook calls out theatrically, his voice carrying through the empty corridor.

You appear just behind him, your voice low and teasing, “Perhaps you’re not as sharp as you think, huntsman.”

Rook spins with that ever-present smile, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, but the chase, it only adds to your allure! Each time you vanish, I find myself more intrigued."

You step closer, lips curving into a knowing smile. "Catch me, then."

Rook’s grin widens. "One day, I just might." But even he knows, deep down, that the game is far too fun to ever truly win.

Idia Shroud:

Idia isn’t exactly a fan of social interaction, so your tendency to vanish into thin air doesn’t bother him. In fact, he finds it kind of reassuring—after all, you’re never gone for long.

He’s used to the way you silently reappear, blending into the background, just like an NPC who pops up unexpectedly.

"You always show up when I least expect it," Idia mutters, eyes glued to his screen. He doesn’t look over, but you know he’s noticed.

"Surprise," you whisper from behind him, your voice almost purring. Idia jumps, then groans. "Do you have to do that? It’s like a horror game—except the jumpscares are real."

You chuckle, slipping around to his side. "I’m just keeping things interesting." He side-eyes you, hair flickering slightly. "Yeah, interesting, sure. You’re like, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It's... kinda OP."

You grin, leaning close enough for him to hear the smirk in your voice. "Better than being predictable." Idia gives a small, awkward laugh. "Touché."

Masterlist

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[fandomsmadness]

TBHX episode 8 rant

Hey, for once I'm not actively a wreck (just passively and internally curled up into a ball, not that that's much better)

Lucky Cyan is so precious omg. Heavy spoilers from this point on.

Before we start the breakdown, establishing timeline before I myself forget. Cyan survives a plane crash 23 years after commission (at 3 years old, I think someone said?) and by the time the episode ends we're 11 years from then, 34 years after commission and 2 years before Yang Cheng's whole...disaster.

Since I am apparently allegic to breaking down things in order, first up is religion. Jesus freaking Christ I did not expect that turn of events At. All. But it makes so much sense retrospectively!

Of course powers of luck would be distilled into a hope cult, of course she has a great singing voice, of course she was made a "sacred maiden" when she was not even hitting two digits of age. Her singing Neon Rain and its lyrics suddenly make a lot more sense now.

This shot killed me. I was not expecting religious commentary at all given what we knew of Lucky Cyan's background but I have to give it up for LHO, it's so well done.

There is a closely tied-in theme of exploitation here (and isn't that telling in and of itself) and I love how the episode took the time (it was noticeably slower paced to let this sink in, which I liked) to expound on the different types of exploitation and their extents, regardless of intentions.

I also loved (absolutely hated) how the Dean told Ms Zhao that she's exploiting the child, only for him to go and do it a whole other way, just without the money part. Morality really is subjective, but it doesn't stop exploitation from being exploitation.

Like girl really never had a break. She needs a hug.

Second - technically - on the list is that I am hyped about a character being from the media! I was really wondering how much censorship would be rampant to keep up trust value and now we have our answer:

A LOT.

But it also feels to me that the media is unfair and demands too much of heroes (as does everyone else, tbh). Expecting them to prevent every single accident (emphasis: accident) seems a bit of a stretch, and in airspace. It's impossible for heroes to monitor everything everywhere all the time, no matter the numbers. A singular accident leading to accusations and pointing fingers does seem far-fetched.

At the same time, what did they mean hero conflict? A hero couple in a scandal? Cyan's arc seems to be showing us the politics of the system through Liu Zhen far more than Lin Ling and Yang Cheng's understanding was able to fathom.

Me reading the subtitles: "Oh that's very particular wording." Liu Zhen two seconds after: "What do you mean?" Say what you want about Liu Zhen, but man undeniably has good reporting instincts. But I also think this means we will get to see Enlighter this arc too, or at least, the beginning of the fear org, whose name I have promptly forgotten.

Third on the list is trust value because hold on what do you mean it's always been like this.

Cyan has to be the daughter of a hero couple at this point. There's no way hero couples are suddenly introduced to us, Cyan has trust value out of nowhere, survives a plane crash with whisperings of "hero conflict" around it, for this to end up not being related to her trust value. It's fascinating how every single arc we've had so far have different stories on trust value.

And what was up with Yang Cheng and his 0 trust value when even the Bad Luck Calamity had 10?? What??

Other highlights:

Queen!

No wonder Queen is about order and decreasing chaos and seems very political, she has a reporter for a father (said father is increasingly suspicious as it goes but we ignore that for now). She's so poised at 14 and will likely meet Cyan soon through her dad I hope. Her statement about "wanting to overturn trust value" was also ringing multiple bells in my head somewhere.

Animation style

Gave me quite a few laughs, which was sorely needed in the middle of being deeply disturbed by how people treated Cyan.

X(?)

Idk, but that flyer's timing seemed very fishy. The X marks the spot on the treasure map, Queen striving to be X, even the cross behind Cyan's silhouette looking like an X there's a lot less subtle X references in this episode. The aforementioned scandal may kick off another hero tournament.

The good luck/bad luck combo

This is so precious and he's totally going to die isn't he? But he's the only one who seems to see Cyan as a person and not a means to be exploited until now.

Overall, great introductory episode, fuck the dean, and we have two years to go before we know Cyan is on stage performing while Xia Qing cries.

Also, I love her song. That is all.

[f1-mcmuffin]

Heyyy! I’M IN LOVE WITH THE BLACKPINK 5TH MEMBRR AU!!!😩🫶 if possible can you make one on how they met or how they started dating? Hehe 🥰

Y'all I am so sorry I disappeared 😭 for a little. My water spilled in my bag and FRIED my MacBook, got a new one so now we’re back. Enjoyy

Crashing Into You

(Requested) Lando Norris x Reader (5th Member of BLACKPINK AU)

| Lando Norris Masterlist| Main Masterlist | Spotlight & Slipstream Masterlist |

Ralph Lauren Flagship – Paris, early evening.

The venue was a blur of crystal chandeliers and vintage brass, all velvet drapes and champagne bubbles and the unmistakable hum of luxury. Lando was used to events like these—smiling, handshakes, pretending to remember people’s names. The room was full of people who walked like they were being watched. The kind of crowd where you were either the main event or completely invisible. He mostly just knew his way to the bar. He was halfway through his drink when she happened.

Someone brushed past him, just hard enough to jostle his elbow and make him fumble the glass not enough to spill it. Just enough to freeze him in place.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” a voice said, low and musical, almost amused. He turned instinctively, ready to brush it off and—Oh.

She was stunning. Not just beautiful. Stunning. In the runway-model, too-unreal-to-be-approached way. She looked like fire and he wanted to touch. Dark eyes, long hair, the kind of posture that said I know who I am even if he didn’t.

“That was my fault. I was in the way,” he said mindlessly quickly. “I wasn’t looking.”

She tilted her head. “Neither was I. So I guess we’re even.” Her accent was hard to place. A blend of places. Like she'd been everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She smiled and he found himself grinning back.

“Lando,” he said, offering a hand.

“Y/n,” she replied, slipping her hand into his. Her hand fit perfectly in his. Her shake was firm yet soft and warm. “Are you part of the brand?”

“Sort of. Sponsor one of the colognes.” He grinned. “You?”

“Clothes,” she said, sipping her pink drink. “Or whatever they feel like selling out.” 

They started talking—casually at first. Then easily. Way too easily.

“What do you do when you’re not crashing into women in couture?” she asked eventually, arching a brow over her glass.

"I'm a driver."

She raised an eyebrow “Like an Uber driver or…?”

He choked on his drink, laughing. “No—no, nothing that useful. Formula 1,” he said slowly, watching her face. Nothing. “....race cars. Fast ones. Around tracks.”

“Uhh,” she said, nodding politely. “Is that… like Nascar?”

He laughed — one hand coming to his chest in exaggerated pain. “You did not just say that.”

Her expression stayed innocent. “I don’t know! I live on planes and hotel room minibars, I’m not exactly keeping up with… engines.” He blinked, god, it was refreshing. The complete lack of recognition. No awkward excitement, no mention of lando no wins, or “Oh my god, you’re the McLaren guy!” Just… her. Real. Effortless. Curious.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, I like it,” he said. “You’re not pretending to care.”

She shrugged. “I’m just being honest.”

He took a sip of his own drink, smiling. “What do you do then? Aside from showing up at fashion shows to get crashed into?”

“I’m in a group. I sing. Dance.”

He nodded slowly. “Like a choir?”

Her face contorted into fake offense. “You did not just say that.” They were cracking up now—shoulders brushing. “You’ve never heard of BLACKPINK?” she asked, half-incredulous.

“No,” he said honestly, brows raised. “That's a thing?”

“You’re joking.”

“I swear on my steering wheel.” she laughed. Really laughed. Head tilted back, hand over her mouth, glowing under the soft lighting. He liked her laugh. A lot.

They stood there, just smiling at each other as if the room didn’t hum around them with flashbulbs and fashion icons. As if it had gone quiet for a second.

“So,” he said eventually, “you’re a singer who doesn’t know racing. I’m a racer who doesn’t know pop.”

“And yet,” she said, leaning a little closer, “here we are.”

“Talking, Laughing, and bonding over mutual ignorance.”

She clinked her glass against his. “Cheers to that.”

From there, the conversation melted into shared gripes about hotel breakfasts, cities they loved (Tokyo, for both of them), and airport horror stories. She told him about spraining her ankle on stage and still danced. He told her about DNFing during a race and crying behind a tire wall. They had rhythm—conversation rhythm. A kind that didn’t need effort. The kind that just clicked. He liked her. That was fast. Maybe too fast. But her voice was warm, her energy addictive, and he found himself not wanting to go back to the table of sponsors and stylists just yet. 

Eventually someone tugged gently on her wrist. “Honey,” the woman murmured, apologetically. “They’re waiting.”

She sighed softly, then looked back at him. A warm, real smile on her lips. “Nice to meet you, Lando.” The way she said his name was dangerous. Soft and slow, like a secret. Like she planned to remember it.

“Nice to meet you too, pretty girl,” he said before he could stop himself. She laughed, cheeks dimpling slightly, and walked off with her assistant. He watched her until she was swallowed by the crowd. Then it hit him. 

He didn’t get her number.

Later that night – Hotel room, Paris

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, still grinning. That had been—something. But now she was gone, and the odds of seeing her again in a city like Paris? Slim.

He picked up his phone. Opened Instagram. With the caution of a man stepping into a minefield, typed: BLACKPINK

Blue check. 70 million followers. Holy hell. He clicked, seeing the accomplishments posted. He clicked on the following 

@/roses_are_rosie Nope.

@/jennierubyjane Not her.

@/lalalalisa_m Definitely not her.

@/sooyaaa__ Still not her.

@/yourusername bingo

He clicked on her profile. She followed no one, not even her members. His eyes widened at the 98 million followers. Damn. Lando blinked, scrolling slowly through her posts. Stage photos. Studio mirrors. Candid selfies that still looked like editorial shoots. He was careful—so, so careful—not to accidentally like anything. Until…Tap. Double click. Red heart.

“No. No no no—shit—” He froze. Stared at the post he’d just liked. It was from five years ago. He quickly threw the phone onto the other pillow like it burned. A moment later, he picked it back up, carefully scrolled to her most recent story. A blurry Boomerang of the fashion show crowd.

In the corner—barely visible—he could see the back of his own head. He stared at her profile for another full minute before clicking off his phone

The next morning — Her hotel suite, Paris.

It was still early.

A pale wash of sunlight spilled through the gauzy curtains, casting soft gold across the polished marble and velvet of the suite. The city below was just waking up, its sounds distant and muffled.

She was curled up sideways on the deep emerald chaise lounge, her robe half-falling off one shoulder, a warm mug of black coffee nestled in her hands. Her dark hair was still a mess from sleep, her legs tucked beneath her.

She was scrolling—half-awake, half-bored—through a sea of mentions, tags, and fan edits. Her thumb moved lazily over the screen, pausing occasionally on a funny tweet or a well-lit concert shot. She looked serene, unbothered until her thumb hovered. Wait, that wasn’t from last night or last week. Her brows pulled together slightly as she narrowed her eyes. The post was old. Really old.  Dated: July 2019.

A grainy backstage photo. She and Jennie were mid-laugh, arms slung around each other, no makeup, oversized hoodies and messy ponytails. A pure, blink-and-you-miss-it candid—buried beneath years of sleek press shots and Vogue covers. Someone liked it recently.

@/landonorris

She blinked. Sat up slightly. Tapped the username and there he was—Driver Boy himself. The same sharp features staring back at her from his profile picture.

His feed was exactly what she expected and somehow not at all: Fast cars, fast friends, podium selfies, blurry nights out with other drivers, golf swings, and an unhealthy obsession with helmets. She bit back a laugh and shook her head slowly. “You’re so bad at lurking, my guy.”

The door to the suite creaked open behind her. Jennie padded in, makeup-free, hair in a topknot, spooning yogurt straight from the tub. She gave her a sleepy glance.

“What’s that face?” She didn’t answer right away. She just took a sip of her coffee and blinked innocently, thumb already clicking her phone screen off like a guilty teenager caught texting their crush. Jennie tilted her head, suspicious. “Is that a ‘someone cute just liked my post’ face?”

She leaned back into the cushions, sipping with dramatic nonchalance. “Just someone accidentally liking my 2018 trauma photo dump.”

Jennie smirked. “Someone cute?”

She just hummed, watching the sunrise over Paris, and thinking about a boy who drove like fire and lurked like an idiot.

That evening — a rooftop afterparty, somewhere above Paris.

The party was hosted by a designer’s son—of course it was—and the rooftop was lined with string lights, glass floors, and too many people wearing sunglasses at night. Music pulsed low and sultry beneath the buzz of conversation. The air smelled like jasmine, champagne, and smoke. Like secrets.

She wasn’t even supposed to go. She hated afterparties. They always felt like the encore to a concert no one asked for. But something in her had told her to wear the black silk, just in case.

She was halfway through her first drink, pretending to listen to a story about someone’s yacht in Ibiza, when she saw him.

Alone at the bar again. Same slight slouch. Same curls. Different suit.

“Wow,” she said, sliding up beside him and leaning on the bar. “You survived the internet?”

He looked over—and grinned, bashful and busted. “You saw that, huh?”

“You mean the deep dive from 2019? Yeah. Bold move.”

“I panicked. My thumb slipped.”

“Mhm. Sure. Tell me, were you admiring my friendship with Jennie or the tragic grainy filter?”

He laughed, sheepish. “Honestly? You were laughing in it. I liked that.”

That caught her off-guard. Her smirk faltered just enough to show something real. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass. “You’re kind of charming when you’re not trying.”

“Oh no,” he said, mock horror. “Do not say that. I’ve worked very hard on this whole ‘awkward hot guy who crashes into women’ brand.”

She leaned in a little closer, just enough to catch the spark in his eyes. “You’re nailing it. Truly.”

They smiled and again, that bubble. People moved around them like waves against glass. Voices, cameras, bodies brushing past—and none of it touched them. They were suspended.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

She held up her glass. “Something pink and overpriced. You?”

“Something brown and dangerous.” He clinked his glass against hers.

“Cheers to bad decisions,” she said.

“To very attractive bad decisions,” he replied, and she laughed. He watched her as she took a sip. “You came here hoping to see me again, didn’t you?”

She nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“I mean—look, I’m not saying I came here hoping to see you, but—”

“You totally did.”

“I one hundred percent did.”

She bit her lip, amused, trying not to grin. “I came here for the free alcohol.”

“Liar,” he said. “You wore black silk. You absolutely dressed for damage.”

She tilted her head, playful. “And what damage are you expecting, Mr. Norris?”

He leaned in—not enough to crowd, but just enough to make her breath hitch. “The kind that doesn’t hurt. Much.”

Her laugh was soft this time, breathy. “You’re trouble.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes dancing. “But I’m good company.”

She set her glass down, fingers brushing his wrist just briefly. “Prove it.”

“Dance with me,” he said, eyes gleaming.

“Huh” visibly caught off-gaurd

“Dance with me,” he repeated

She blinked. “There’s no dance floor.”

“There’s music.”She looked at him for a long moment, like she was weighing something. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached for his hand. He took it, warm and steady. And right there, in the middle of a rooftop with no official dance floor, surrounded by models and moguls, and champagne towers—he pulled her close and started to sway.

No rhythm. No choreography. Just movement. Just closeness.

 He smelled like expensive cologne and something electric. She didn’t know if it was adrenaline or him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck almost too naturally. Like muscle memory from another life. His hands rested on her waist, careful like he was holding something important. They didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. For a moment, time felt indulgent. Like the city stopped for them.

At one point, she tucked her face into his shoulder and laughed at something he whispered—a low joke about someone trying to twerk near a sculpture. She never did find out what the punchline was. Just the way his voice rumbled in her ear and made her stomach flip.

He walked her back, because of course he did. Because he was raised right, and also—because he didn’t want the night to end.

“Thanks for the dance,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, fingers grazing the knob.

“Thanks for not mocking my two-step,” he grinned.

“I still might.”

 “Fair.”

The hallway was quiet, dim, the buzz of the party somewhere far below them now. Just the two of them, wrapped in the echo of too much champagne and the possibility of something.

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close. “You should come to a race.”

“You won’t even let me Google Formula 1,” she replied.

“I’m trying to preserve the mystery.”

She smiled. “You’ve got a lot of mystery, Norris.”

He looked at her like he didn’t want to leave. Like he didn’t want this to end.

“Text me,” she said, finally.

“You haven’t given me your number.”

She held out her hand. He placed his phone in it like it was some kind of offering. She typed in her number, added a peach emoji after the nickname he gave her, and handed it back.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed him—just a brush at the corner of his mouth. A hit-and-run. A flicker of a spark, not a fire. Not yet.

Then she slipped inside the suite and closed the door behind her, soft and certain. He stood there, staring at the door for a second. Then two. 

And then he laughed to himself, just once, quiet and disbelieving. Grinning, he walked back down the hallway, thumb already hovering over her contact.

The Eiffel Tower glittered like it was in on the secret.  She sat curled up in a hotel robe, legs tucked beneath her, phone glowing in her lap. Her lip gloss had long faded, but the smile hadn’t.

A new message lit up her screen:

Racer Boy 🚦: Still thinking about your terrifying cheekbones. Are they TSA approved or do they count as weapons?

She snorted and typed back:

Pretty girl 🍑: I aim to terrify but only in low lighting and emotional vulnerability.

Racer Boy 🚦: Speaking of emotionally vulnerable I passed the cemetery near Abbey Road earlier today Swear I heard it whisper "She’s gonna break your heart, mate."

Pretty girl 🍑: Was it haunted or just British?

Racer Boy 🚦: Bit of both, honestly. But I told it: "Too late. I’m already ghosted."

Pretty girl 🍑: You are so dramatic. Ghosted by who?

Racer Boy 🚦: You. Every time you leave me on read for 46 seconds It’s like being buried in a tiny emotional grave

Pretty girl 🍑: Sounds cozy Should I bring flowers to your tiny grave?

Racer Boy 🚦: Only if they’re fake So they last Like my tragic love for you

Pretty girl 🍑: omg. you are so dumb

Racer Boy 🚦: Dumb and doomed. The best kind. Also, I’m watching that video of you walking the Jacquemus show in slow-mo Trying to understand how someone can walk like a goddess and still text me back

Pretty girl 🍑: You say that like I’m not also sitting here watching an F1 compilation called “Lando Norris funny moments” You’re a funny man

Racer Boy 🚦: I KNEW those views were you

Pretty girl 🍑: Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll deny it to the grave. Your tiny, emotional grave.

Racer Boy 🚦:  The slow death of my dignity. When are you headed to London again? 

Pretty girl 🍑:  Next month. Flying Friday night. London by Saturday. Why? 

Racer Boy 🚦:  Silverstone’s that Sunday. Want to go out that Saturday night? 

Pretty girl 🍑:  Like…out out? 

Racer Boy 🚦:  Like…first date out. 

Pretty girl 🍑:  Hmm. Tempting. Will there be pasta?

 Racer Boy 🚦:  You tell me what you want and I’ll pretend I planned it.

 Pretty girl 🍑:  Good. I like my artisanal lies. 

Friday – YG building, Seoul, Korea. 2:45 PM.

It had been hours of dance drills, water bottles half-drunk and the air thick with the scent of effort and expensive dry shampoo. Practice was winding down, and the group had collapsed into their usual recovery spots around the studio—Lisa sprawled on her back with a towel over her face, Rosé curled in the corner scrolling through her camera roll with Jisoo over her shoulder, Jennie perched like a cat on the ledge by the window. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sweaty strands of hair clinging to her neck, practically glowing—and not just from the workout.

She kept looking at her phone. Then smiling. Then biting back the smile like it might betray her.

Jennie caught it first. She said nothing at first—just watched, brow faintly arched, sipping coconut water like she was biding her time.

Then Rosé caught on too. She tilted her head slightly, catching Jennie’s eye. A silent glance passed between them. No words, just a well-honed sisterly radar buzzing in sync.

Lisa didn’t bother with subtlety. Lisa straight-up leaned over her shoulder, eyes wide with nosy glee. “Who’s Racer Boy?” she chirped.

She jolted and locked her screen so fast she nearly dropped it. “No one.”

Lisa gasped dramatically. “You have a contact name for him?! And an emoji?! That’s not no one. That’s a thing.”

Jennie raised a sculpted brow. “You’re giggling.”

She blinked, defensive. “I do that sometimes.”

“You’re wearing lip gloss in rehearsals,” Jisoo added.

She crossed her arms. “I like gloss.”

Jennie didn’t blink. “You wore chapstick for three years straight. Even to the Met Gala.”

Lisa was rolling on the floor now. “Guys. She’s blushing. She’s actually blushing. The Ice Queen has thawed.”

Rosé, still calm in the corner, sang softly like she was scoring a drama, “She’s in loooove…”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

The girls froze. Then they pounced.

“Oh my God,” Lisa squealed, sitting up on her knees. “You’re totally in love. You’re, like, early-stage in love. You’re in pre-love.”

“It’s barely been a month,” she said, heat creeping up her neck.

“But you’re still here,” Jennie said softly, eyes knowing. “Smiling like an idiot.” She didn’t answer.

She turned back to her phone, thumb hovering over the contact labeled: Racer Boy 🚦

She didn’t open the thread yet. Just stared at it.

Rosé scooted closer, brushing her knee against hers. “Is he nice?”

She nodded slowly. “He’s…funny. And stupid. And sweet. And—” She caught herself and looked up. “I can’t tell if this is real or if I’m just enjoying the distraction.”

“Distractions don’t make you wear lip gloss,” Lisa said, nudging her shoulder.

“Distractions don’t make you glow,” Jisoo added, voice soft but certain.

She looked at her sisters. These girls who’d shared cramped dressing rooms, impossible schedules, heartbreaks, and hair disasters. They knew her. All of her. The guarded parts. The lonely ones. The girl who rarely let anyone in. So she finally said it.

“I really like him,” she whispered. “And it’s terrifying.”

The silence after wasn’t mocking. It was reverent. The kind of silence that only comes when the truth lands in a room like a slow-burning spark.

Rosé smiled. “It’s supposed to be.”

Lisa grinned. “So when do we meet this emotionally reckless traffic light of a man?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “Not until I’m sure he’s not going to run away screaming.”

Jennie stood and walked over, brushing a thumb gently over her flushed cheek. “If he does, he’s not worth your lip gloss.”

She laughed. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“We learned from you,” Rosé said.

Lisa threw a towel in the air. “Blackpink in your boyfriend's area!”

The room burst into laughter, and somewhere in the center of it, her phone buzzed again. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She unlocked it, pened the thread, and smiled again. 

And the girls? They saw it. All of it.

Not just the fruity gloss. But the soft, tender thing underneath—the beginning of something.

Tuesday – 9:42 AM Nice Côte d'Azur Airport, Monaco

“Still can’t believe you wanted to fly commercial,” Oscar said, elbowing Lando in the side as they passed through the first-class queue.

“I like having my feet on the ground with the peasants,” Lando deadpanned. “Also, my jet’s being serviced.”

“Tragic,” Oscar replied. “Shall we alert the tabloids?”

They moved toward their gate lazily, both in joggers and hoodies, blending into the elite crowd of silent headphones and sleek carry-ons. Lando scrolled through his phone absently—mostly ignoring it—until a Korean news outlet he recently started following popped up on his feed.

Dispatch Korea: BLACKPINK rumored to be heading to London this Saturday for an MV shoot.

He swallowed. His thumb hovered over the image.

“She's going to London,” he muttered.

Oscar turned. “Who?”

Lando locked his screen quickly, but not quickly enough.

“Oh,” Oscar said, grinning now. “Pretty girl.”

“Don’t call her that.” Lando snapped.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You're the one who picked the nickname.”

There was a pause. Then:

“You nervous?” Oscar asked, voice lower now.

Lando stared out the terminal window, at the clouds stacking like hills in the distance. His jaw tightened.

“No,” he lied. Then added, softer, “I just want to see her.”

Oscar clapped him on the back. “You will.”

And with that, they boarded.

Tuesday — Heathrow Airport, London 6:03 AM

The sky was still bruised with dawn when Lando and Oscar stepped off the flight from Monaco, tired but wired with race weekend energy.

Oscar yawned. “You’re unnaturally chipper for someone who didn’t sleep.”

Lando didn’t look up from his phone. “Didn’t need sleep.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, catching the edge of a smirk. “You’re tracking her, aren’t you?”

“I’m tracking the traffic for Silverstone,” Lando lied.

Oscar laughed as they made their way through the terminal. “You’re so far gone.”

Lando didn’t deny it.

Saturday – 1:12 PM Incheon International Airport, Seoul, Korea

Flashes clicked the moment Blackpink stepped through the automatic glass doors.

Her oversized hoodie was zipped halfway up, her cap low over her brow, and yet Dispatch still got their shots. Jennie had sunglasses on, Lisa was yawning dramatically for the cameras, and Rosé clung to her neck pillow like it owed her rent. Jisoo going through her Dior purse to find their passports.

“Thank god there’s no dating rumors this time,” Jennie muttered under her breath, shielding her face with her phone.

“Just a music video,” Lisa added brightly, tossing the words toward the lenses as they walked. “Just Seoul to London. Simple stuff.”

She kept her eyes forward, the hood of her hoodie pulled low enough to ignore the chaos, but not so low that she couldn’t see the gate signs. Her suitcase rolled smoothly behind her—quiet, composed, like her. But inside, everything buzzed.

Twelve hours. Give or take and he’d be there.

The ache built in her ribs like pressure at takeoff.

She hadn’t told the girls he’d be in London too. It wasn’t a thing, not really but she could feel the weight of his last text sitting in her pocket. Could still see it like a ghost behind her eyelids.

Hope you’re flying safe. Let me know when you land. You better bring the gloss.

She pressed her lips together.

Yeah. She was going to see him again.

Saturday — Heathrow Airport, London. 2:27 PM

The terminal was chaotic in the way only Heathrow could be—loudspeaker announcements, luggage wheels humming, paparazzi waiting at barriers like vultures in branded windbreakers.

Blackpink moved through the crowd like they’d done it a hundred times. Because they had.

Jennie in sunglasses, Rosé with headphones, Lisa and Jisoo pulling faces at fans who called their names. She walked at the center, incognito in an oversized hoodie and sweats, but the camera shutters still found her. She waved politely, murmured a few hellos. The moment they passed through to the car waiting outside, she exhaled.

Jisoo climbed in first, peering at her bandmate as she followed.

“You okay?” Jisoo asked.

She nodded, then glanced at her phone. Still nothing. No new messages.

Just a calendar ping reminding her: Dinner – 7PM. Notting Hill.

Rosé caught the look. “You’re seeing him tonight.”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

Lisa leaned forward between the seats. “Tell him we said if he breaks your heart, we break his legs.”

A few more shutter clicks. Paparazzi murmurs. But no chaos. Just quiet speculation.

“BLACKPINK touches down in London for new MV shoot” the headlines read.

Inside the black car she sat by the window, pretending to look out the window. Her stomach twisted with anticipation.

Lando was already here.

Saturday night after Quali 

He was waiting outside, pacing slightly beside a rented matte-black Jaguar. Crisp black button-up shirt. Rolled sleeves. Slacks and nerves.

She had stepped out of her hotel in a low, backless black dress and a leather jacket. Hair half-up, minimal makeup, like she wasn’t trying. Which meant she definitely was.

Lando looked up—and stilled.

“Hi,” she said softly, tugging her jacket tighter against the London chill.

He exhaled. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She grinned. “Strong opening line.”

He opened the car door for her. “Wait till you see the menu.”

They sat across from each other at a private corner table, candlelight flickering between them.

“So,” she said, swirling her wine. “How do you usually spend a Saturday before your home Grand Prix?”

“Carb-loading. Simulator practice. Crying.”

“Ah,” she said. “Romantic.”

He smirked. “And you? How do kpop stars prep for filming a music video?”

“Usually not by going on a date with a Formula 1 driver.”

“Uncharted territory?”

“Just… new.”

They lingered in the pause. There was something quiet settling between them. Not quite nerves. Not quite ease. Something like possibility.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.

“Oh?” Lando leaned back, intrigued.

“You’re… gentler. Funnier. Grounded.”

Lando cocked his head. “What were you expecting? Champagne and ego?”

She smirked. “Something like that.”

Lando smirked. “And you? I thought you’d be terrifying.”

She raised a brow. “I am terrifying.”

He leaned in. “Only a little.”

Their eyes held.

And for just a second, the noise of the world faded.

Later — walking through empty London streets.

The restaurant was behind them. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement. Wind played with her loose hair.

They walked close—shoulders brushing now and then, like gravity pulling them nearer with each block.

“You’re nervous,” she said.

“A bit,” he admitted.

“You drive at 300 km/h for a living.”

“And you dance in front of stadiums. We’re both mad.”

They stopped at the corner under a streetlamp. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, voice low.

She smiled. “Thank you. You didn’t make it weird.”

He grinned. “Yet.” She laughed, quiet and full. Then he kissed her—Just soft, steady warmth.

 A beginning.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against hers.

“Can I see you at Silverstone?” he whispered.

She hesitated, the ache already there. “I have to film all weekend.”

He blinked. “No pressure then.”

She leaned back, a little sad, a little smitten. “Good luck, racer boy.”

And then she turned, leaving him at the corner, already counting down the hours.

Sunday — Silverstone Circuit. Race Day. 3:11 PM.

Lando was strapped in. Visor down. Engine roared behind him like a beast with breath. And yet—somewhere in the noise, there was her.

 The memory of her laugh over wine. The way she called him racer boy like a dare. The kiss on the corner under the streetlamp.

He blinked. Focus. Turn 9. Copse. Hold the inside. Be clinical.

But her voice still floated at the edge of his thoughts— "You're gentler than I expected."

He downshifted, sharpened. Not a distraction but a tether.

Sunday — Somewhere in East London. Music video shoot. 3:26 PM.

She stood in front of the camera, drenched in soft red lights and smoke. They were mid-take. Her lips were syncing perfectly to the track. But just out of frame, behind a monitor—

The Grand Prix streamed in silence.

A pit stop. The commentator’s gestures were exaggerated. Lando’s car blurred in and out of frame. P2.

Her eyes flicked to the screen again between takes. Jennie noticed. So did Rosé. Jisoo whispered, “He’s second. Lap 38.”

She didn’t respond. Just smoothed her skirt and went back to her mark. But her stomach wouldn’t settle.

Sweat still on her skin. Glitter still in her hair. She peeled off her boots, collapsed onto the couch, and unlocked her phone.

1 New Message

Racer Boy 🚦 P2 today. Not bad, right? You would’ve looked hot in a McLaren hat.

She smiled. Bit her lip. Typed back.

Pretty girl 🍑:  Watched between takes. Almost tripped on stage when you overtook that tall guy in the Mercades. Proud of you, racer boy.

A pause. Then:

 Pretty girl 🍑:  Can I see you before I leave London?

Her phone buzzed almost instantly.

 Racer Boy 🚦:  Yes. Tell me where and when. And wear that fruity lip gloss again. For science.

She laughed quietly into the pillow on the couch.

And somewhere across the city, Lando was still in his fireproofs, hair damp, heart pounding harder at her text than at the finish line.

Monday night — Some hotel, South Kensington. 11:42 PM.

Rain tapped gently at the windows. London was half-asleep. The room smelled like hotel linen and vanilla shampoo. She opened the door still wrapped in a robe, towel around her neck, her hair damp from a shower.

Lando stood in the hall—hood up, cap low, McLaren duffel slung over his shoulder. When she opened the door, he looked up.

“Hey,” he said, breathless, like he’d run the last few blocks. She let him in without a word.

Inside, the lights were low. A single bedside lamp glowed. Her suitcase lay open on the couch. He dropped his bag and reached for her. She folded into him easily, like it was muscle memory already.

“You did so well yesterday,” she whispered against his chest.

“You weren’t there,” he murmured. “Didn’t feel right.”

She pulled back just enough to look up. “You’re getting soft, Norris.”

“You made me soft.”

She laughed—quiet and warm. Then, “You came all this way just to be sappy?”

“No.” He brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. “I came to ask if this is something.”

She blinked.

“I know it’s fast. I know it’s complicated. But I keep thinking about you. At the track. In the car. Before every corner. After the podium.”

She stared up at him, heart racing.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I just needed you to know.”

She didn’t answer. She kissed him instead. Slow, steady. No urgency. No performance.

Just them. Quiet and real.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead stayed against his.

“It is something,” she whispered. “And I want to keep it.”

Lando smiled—soft, boyish. “Just us, then. For now?”

She nodded. “Let them gossip about who Jennie’s dating.” He laughed, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come to bed,” she said. “You’re freezing.”

He followed her under the covers, fully clothed, hands respectful. But the way he held her—arms tight around her waist, breath even against her neck—it felt like claiming something. Not as possession but as peace.

Before the sun came up, Lando left through the back entrance of the hotel. Cap pulled low. Hoodie up. She watched him from the window, coffee in hand.

One last glance back from him. A small wave. he disappeared into the London drizzle, taking their secret with him.

April 2023 – California, USA. Coachella Weekend One.

Blackpink’s Coachella headlining set lit up the desert sky. Fireworks burst. The crowd roared. She hit every move, every note, sweat-slick and electric under the lights.

Thousands watched live. Millions streamed online.

One of them was Lando—propped in his motorhome in Baku, Azerbaijan, the race on pause, earbuds in. His engineer’s notes sat untouched beside him.

He didn’t even blink as she spun into formation.

When she winked into the camera halfway through Kill This Love, he smiled to himself.

Oscar walked by, holding his phone. “Are you watching the race edit?”

“No,” Lando murmured, not looking away. “Something better.”

Oscar squinted. “Is that…Coachella?”

Lando just grinned.

May 2023 – Monaco GP Weekend.

Their world tour had taken her to Madrid, then Paris, then Berlin. She was running on three hours of sleep and oat milk lattes.

But her AirPods were in during hair and makeup. McLaren race radio crackling softly.

When Lando crossed the line P3, her face lit up—caught on a behind-the-scenes cam. “Why are you smiling like that?” Jennie asked.

“No reason.”

Rosé smirked. “Racer Boy again?”

“Shut up,” She mumbled.

But that night, in the greenroom, she texted him:

My Pretty girl 💕:  "P3 looks good on you. So does that champagne spray."

Seconds later:

Lando 🧡: Say that again in person.

June 2023 – London.

She landed at Heathrow. He was there for simulator testing.

A quiet 14-hour overlap.

She showed up at his hotel at 1 a.m., wearing sunglasses and a hoodie, laughing as she pressed the elevator button like it was a mission.

He opened the door half-asleep—and woke up fast.

“I miss your stupid face,” she muttered, head tucked into his neck.

“You’re the one touring the planet,” he teased.

“I’d cancel Berlin if it meant ten more hours like this.”

They didn’t leave the room once. Just room service, kisses between sentences, her asleep on his chest before he finished the film they started.

By sunrise, she was gone—the scent of her shampoo on his pillow, a lipstick print on a hotel glass.

October 2023 – Japan.

Suzuka was brutal. Rain. Red flags. Strategy chaos.

Lando finished P2.

Hours later, still in his race suit, he FaceTimed her from the back of the paddock truck.

She was in a dressing room in Bangkok, eyeliner smudged, exhausted.

“I can’t wait till you’re done being famous,” she said sleepily.

He laughed. “Says the Coachella girl.”

“I just want to kiss you without needing a disguise.”

“We’ll get there.”

A beat.

She whispered, “I love you, you know.”

Lando blinked. Swallowed hard.

“I know,” he said softly. “I love you too.”

January 2024 – Seoul.

He waited outside a rehearsal studio, leaned up against a black car, baseball cap pulled low.

She ran out between dance drills. Hugged him so hard he lifted off the ground.

Ten minutes. That’s all they had.

Ten minutes of reality before she was gone again.

March 2024 – Melbourne.

Race morning. Lando sat in the back of the McLaren garage, headphones in. The world buzzed around him—mechanics, pit strategy, journalists shouting across pit lane.

But his focus stayed fixed on one thing: a small voice message from her, sent at 3 AM her time.

“Go get ‘em, racer boy. Make the corners jealous.”

He smiled, then pulled his helmet on.

April 2024 – LA.

Blackpink had a surprise release. The studio was chaotic.

But her lockscreen still lit up with one name.

Lando 🧡: Post-qualifying facetime? I need your lucky eyes.

She called. He answered instantly.

And just like that—the noise faded. For a minute, they were in the same room again.

Late April 2024 – FaceTime call, two time zones apart.

She was curled up in bed in Seoul, bare-faced and wrapped in Lando’s hoodie — the one he’d left behind months ago, intentionally or not. Her hair was messy. She looked tired, but when she smiled, Lando felt it across continents.

He was lounging on the hotel balcony in Shanghai, race weekend winding down, the city lights behind him. One earbud in, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to her ramble about rehearsals, tour drama, and a coffee order that had gone hilariously wrong.

Then he quieted.

Just watched her. Thought about the ache he felt every time the call ended. Every time he had to fly somewhere she wasn’t.

And then, softly—almost casually, but not quite—he said it: “Come to Barcelona with me.”

She blinked. “What?”

He hesitated—half-smiling, half-serious now. “Join me for the Grand Prix. Be there.”

A beat.

“I know it’s insane. And I know your schedule is chaos. But… I want you there. Not as a secret. Not hiding behind paddock walls. Just… with me.”

The silence stretched.

She stared at him through the screen, stunned into stillness. She looked like she’d stopped breathing.

Then—quietly, carefully— “You mean… like, be seen?”

He nodded. “I mean, officially. No disguises. No running. Just us.”

She didn’t speak right away. But her eyes were soft. Her thumb rubbed the seam of his hoodie, her voice smaller than usual when she answered:

“You really want that?”

“I want you.” He didn’t flinch when he said it. “With me. In Barcelona. Let the world talk, for once.”

She exhaled slowly, lips curving just a little.

“…Then let’s give them something to talk about.”

[hanespiritu]

SNITCHED, SMOOCHED, AND SCREWED

(Neoptolemus x Telemachus x Pisistratus)

written by: Han Espiritu

---

Ithaca had seen many things in its time—wars, storms, Odysseus' dramatic return—but nothing could have prepared it for the absolute circus that was about to unfold in the royal halls.

Odysseus, ever the dutiful father (if you ignored the twenty-year absence), had made it his latest quest to find his son, Telemachus, a proper wife. After all, a prince needed an heir, a future, a—whatever, Odysseus just wanted grandkids at this point.

Which was why there was an entirely unnecessary royal banquet happening, featuring an impressive lineup of eligible noblewomen, ranging from demure maidens to politically advantageous brides.

Yet Telemachus was nowhere to be found.

And that’s where the trouble began.

---

Diomedes, the ever-handsome and ever-opportunistic King of Argos, arrived unannounced at the Ithacan palace with one goal in mind: flirt shamelessly with Odysseus.

Penelope, Ithaca’s long-suffering queen, merely sipped her wine and gave him a knowing smirk when he greeted her. She knew exactly why he was here. She always did.

"Diomedes," she said smoothly, tipping her cup in greeting. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Just passing through," Diomedes lied, flashing her his most charming smile. "Thought I'd check on an old friend."

"You mean you thought you'd check if my husband was still attractive after twenty years of sea trauma," Penelope corrected.

Diomedes cleared his throat. "That too."

"Well, he's in the hall, desperately trying to find our son a wife."

Diomedes perked up. "Telemachus? A wife?*" He snorted. "Oh, you mean the same Telemachus I saw last week half-naked and swapping spit with two princes in Pylos?"

Silence.

Penelope blinked.

The servants froze mid-step.

The air stiffened with an unholy tension.

And then—

"I'M SORRY, HE WAS WHAT?!"

The walls shook as Odysseus' voice boomed through the hall.

Diomedes, chaos incarnate, simply grinned. "Oh? You didn’t know?"

Meanwhile, in Pylos (or, How to Ruin a Political Marriage)

Telemachus, young prince of Ithaca, was indeed not looking for a wife.

He was, however, very busy.

At present, he was pressed against a pillar, with Pisistratus, the handsome and annoyingly charismatic Prince of Pylos, kissing down his throat while Neoptolemus, Prince of Epirus, was biting his lip and looking him over like a particularly tasty meal.

"I swear," Telemachus panted between kisses, "we are supposed to be here for diplomacy."

"I am being diplomatic," Pisistratus murmured against his skin. "I’m negotiating where I’m allowed to kiss you."

"Mm," Neoptolemus hummed, tilting Telemachus’ chin up. "I vote everywhere."

"I second that," Pisistratus said against his collarbone.

"Both of you need therapy," Telemachus gasped.

"We need you in our bedrolls," Neoptolemus corrected.

The three princes were entirely too occupied to realize they had company.

Because who else but Diomedes, the worst wingman in history, had stumbled upon this steamy royal make-out session?

And because he was Diomedes, he did the only logical thing.

He snitched.

Back to Ithaca (A.K.A. Telemachus’ Worst Day Ever)

Odysseus stormed into the palace, red-faced, seething, and very much ready to commit murder.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

Penelope was still sipping her wine, entirely unbothered.

"My love," she said, "do not kill our son. I spent years keeping suitors away from this house only for you to come home and immediately commit filicide."

"TELEMACHUS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINDING A WIFE, NOT—NOT—" Odysseus waved his hands wildly. "FROLICKING WITH TWO PRINCES ON FOREIGN SOIL!"

Diomedes, seated comfortably nearby, grinned into his cup. "To be fair, they weren’t exactly frolicking. It was much less innocent than that."

Odysseus looked ready to explode.

The doors swung open.

And in walked Telemachus.

And behind him, two very smug-looking princes.

"Father," Telemachus greeted, clearing his throat. "I have returned."

"YOU HAVE RETURNED?!" Odysseus gawked at the sight before him. "WITH THEM?!"

Neoptolemus grinned. "Hey, old man. Nice place you got here."

Pisistratus bowed dramatically. "Lovely evening, King Odysseus. Heard you're trying to find a match for Telemachus. No need. We've already sorted that out."

"YOU WHAT?!"

Neoptolemus casually draped an arm over Telemachus' shoulder. "Yeah, you can stop the whole marriage search. He’s got two husbands already."

Pisistratus nodded sagely. "It’s a very efficient system, really. You get two sons-in-law instead of one."

Odysseus clutched his head, looking seconds away from throwing himself into the sea. "By the gods, I fought an entire war for this child—"

"And you did a great job, Father," Telemachus patted his arm reassuringly. "Thank you for your service."

"THAT’S NOT THE POINT!"

Meanwhile, Penelope took a deep, content sip of her wine.

Diomedes, watching the entire debacle unfold, smirked at her. "You’re really not going to stop this?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Penelope said, entirely unbothered. "I knew the moment he left for Pylos that he’d come back with a boyfriend."

She took another sip.

"I just didn’t expect him to bring two."

•┏────────────────────━

•┗─►⚠️ Warning: Plagiarism is a Serious Offense ⚠️

Plagiarism—the act of using someone else’s work, ideas, or words without proper acknowledgment—is unethical and can have severe consequences. Whether intentional or accidental, plagiarism can lead to academic penalties, legal repercussions, and damage to one’s reputation.

To avoid plagiarism:

✔ Always credit the original source.

✔ Use quotation marks for direct quotes.

✔ Paraphrase properly while maintaining the original meaning.

✔ Cite all sources accurately following the required citation style.

Respect intellectual property and uphold integrity in all your work!

[edenesth]

Clumsy Hearts, Steady Love

Pairing: boyfriend!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: He was a great friend but a terrible lover, and he knew it. For the longest time, he believed he wasn’t cut out for relationships. But then you came along, and for the first time, he wanted to try. He wanted to be better, to be good for you, even if it meant being clumsy along the way. For you, he was willing to learn how to love.

A/N: Only @itstheghostofmypast knows this was initially meant to be a timestamp🤡

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Don't drive today, darling. I'll pick you up from work this evening."

Those words from Kim Hongjoong echoed in your mind. For the first time in a year of being together, he offered to pick you up. Your heart soared at the unexpected sweetness from him.

It wasn't that you thought he was a bad boyfriend, but you knew his nature from the very beginning. Your friends had warned you when you accepted him; he was a workaholic, someone who would always put anything and everything before you. A good friend but a bad lover—that was his reputation. Yet, you couldn't deny the way he made your heart race, the way his presence made everything better, the way he vowed to love you as you deserved, the way he promised he would try for you.

From the start, you knew what you were getting into. You didn't expect perfection. You didn't want perfection.

You just wanted him.

But loving Hongjoong truly was not easy.

It could be exhausting. Perhaps today was another one of those days.

You had looked forward to this day for so long, hoping he would be the boyfriend he promised to be. But deep down, you knew better than to have such high hopes.

Letting out what felt like the thousandth sigh of the day, you nearly froze to death from being soaked in the rain, your ankle throbbed from a sprained heel as you stood by the bus stop outside your office building where he was supposed to pick you up.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Every call went straight to voicemail, escalating your worry to panic. You didn’t dare move, fearing he might arrive at an empty bus stop.

After hours of agony, trying to reach him, and calling all his friends, you got the same useless response: he was unreachable, and they had no idea where he could be.

Three hours.

You sat there for three hours, sick with worry about him, when you were the one who needed care, only to end up taking the bus home. So much for the excitement and anticipation of him picking you up for the first time. You should have been furious, but the pounding headache and rising fever stole that from you. Another heavy sigh escaped your lips, the disappointment of what should have been an exciting Friday evening turning into an utter disaster.

"Enough, my darling. I'm here now, am I not?" said Kim Hongjoong.

The audacity.

You had left work to be greeted by a heavy downpour, cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella. As if things couldn't get worse, your sprint to the bus stop where he promised to pick you up was interrupted when your heel chose that moment to snap. You yelped in pain, stumbling forward onto the wet ground, your belongings scattering everywhere. Crawling on the rough pavement to collect them, you finally stood up, only to feel a sharp throb in your ankle.

But it was supposed to be okay because seeing Hongjoong was sure to make everything better.

Ha, bitch you thought.

He left you panicking like a mad woman for hours, only to show up in the most infuriating way. When the 8pm bus finally rolled to a stop before you and the automated doors swooshed opened, you were busy dialling his number yet again.

"Come on, pick up pick up pick up—"

Wait a minute, is that...?

You did a double take when the very person you had been desperately trying to reach this whole time stepped off the bus with a sheepish smile, only for his expression to fall when he saw the miserable state you were in.

"Please throw your phone away if you have no intention of using it," you said flatly, walking past him and intentionally bumping his shoulder as you boarded the bus, no longer caring if he followed.

Of course, he did.

He cursed under his breath, noticing your limp, the heels in your hand, and your soaked, shivering form.

Settling into the last row of seats beside you, he quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. You were too weak to fight back or refuse. His heart ached as he pulled you close, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. Silently, you accepted it all. Not only were you too exhausted to reject his gestures, but you also felt you deserved this and more after what you had endured. When you were warm enough, he immediately checked on your now swollen and bruised ankle, careful not to hurt you. The concern in his eyes was enough to melt your heart, but he didn't need to know that.

Once he was done fussing over you, he leaned back in his seat, offering his shoulder. Stubbornly, you turned away and leaned your head against the window instead. Knowing you needed time to calm down, he kept quiet and let you be, but not without staying close. He needed you to know he was there for you.

When you sighed again, he could no longer take it. He felt the need to explain himself.

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, and I'm so sorry. I got caught up in something I couldn't get out of, and I swear I was going to call you, but my phone died and the stupid car broke down. God, I'm such an idiot. I should have tried harder to reach you or get to you sooner."

Still, you said nothing, your silence more punishing than any words you could have spoken. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss.

"I love you," he whispered, almost to himself. "I just want to make things right."

For a moment, you softened, but the memory of the cold rain and the throbbing pain in your ankle kept your resolve firm. He had to understand the gravity of his actions.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just show up and expect everything to be okay, Joong. You scared me. I thought something terrible had happened to you. And all the while, I was the one who was hurt and alone."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "And I'm so, so sorry, my darling. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he got on the bus. The sincerity and regret in his gaze were undeniable.

"One chance, Kim Hongjoong," you said firmly. "Don't mess it up."

He nodded, relief washing over his face. "I won't. I promise."

With that, you leaned back against the window, still not ready to forgive, but willing to see if he could truly make amends. And for the rest of the ride, he stayed close, his presence a silent vow that he would try his best to make things right.

As you slowly drifted to sleep, he guided your head to his shoulder, gently pressing his cheek against your forehead. Feeling your breath steady and the tension ease from your body, he allowed himself a small, relieved smile. He reached for your cold hands, stroking his fingers against your skin to warm you, finding it funny how he used to judge couples in public, but now that he had you, he realised he couldn't blame them—you were all that mattered.

The truth was, he had been late leaving work today, and to make matters worse, his car had broken down in the middle of heavy traffic. When he tried to call you, his phone had died. In desperation, he had caught the quickest bus he could find, but traffic had been relentless. He could have told you all of this, but he didn’t want to make excuses. He knew he should have done better.

Hongjoong glanced down at you, his heart aching with tenderness and guilt. He was still clumsy when it came to love, but for you, he would learn to be a better lover. Stroking your hair gently, he whispered, "I’m so sorry. I won't make you wait again. I promise to do better. I promise to always be there for you."

The bus ride continued in peaceful silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional jostle of the road the only sounds. He held you close, vowing silently to never let you down again. As the bus neared your stop, he adjusted his position, cupping your cheek softly and kissing your head, whispering, "We're here, darling."

You let out a small groan as your eyes fluttered open, unconsciously snuggling closer to his warmth and comfort as you tried to register your surroundings. If only you knew what your little actions did to his poor heart. Tightening his grip around you, he helped you up from your seat and carefully guided you out of the bus, ensuring you didn't put pressure on your injured ankle. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod as the two of you stepped off. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the night was calm.

As you walked the short distance to your shared apartment, you suddenly remembered what had happened and peeled his hands off you. You weren't necessarily cold to him but you still needed space to cool off. He gulped, his fear of losing you was apparent. "Please, you're hurt. Let me take care of you."

To be fair, he knew he deserved your reaction. You weren't upset merely because of what happened today; he believed this was you letting out all the frustration you had kept in for the entirety of your one-year relationship. And he knew now that if he wanted to keep you by his side, this was his sign to take things more seriously.

No more excuses.

You had been nothing but the best and most attentive girlfriend to him. So, what was stopping him from doing the same for you?

He knew you didn't want to be near him right now, but he also didn't have the heart to stay away. Offering his hand, he nodded toward it. "Come, let's go home."

Tired out of your mind, you swallowed your anger, deciding to save it for another time. For now, you needed him. You reached out with a pout, surprising him by holding onto his pointer finger. "Fine, let's go."

He chuckled, his heart bursting with affection at how cute you were. This was better than nothing. Walking slowly, he made sure you weren't hurting yourself, each step a reminder of his promise to himself and you.

As you entered your apartment, he helped you settle onto the couch, your injured ankle elevated and cushioned. He fetched a blanket and wrapped it around you, his eyes filled with concern. "I'll make us some tea," he said softly, heading to the kitchen.

While he prepared the tea, you watched him move with a newfound determination. You could see he was trying, truly trying, to be better for you. And that thought, more than anything, began to melt the icy wall you had momentarily built up in your heart.

He returned with two steaming mugs, setting them on the table before sitting beside you. He took your hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I promise, I will. You mean everything to me."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty and love there. It was a start, and as you sipped your tea together, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could truly change.

Just as you finished your tea, you sighed and looked up at him, intending to get up and head to your room. But before you could move, he gently squeezed your hand and stood up. "Let me help you," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to assert your independence and appreciating his newfound care. "I can manage," you insisted weakly.

"I know you can, darling," he replied softly, crouching beside you. "But let me take care of you this time, please."

His sincerity was palpable, and despite your initial resistance, you found yourself nodding. He carefully helped you to your feet, supporting your weight as you limped towards your room. Once inside, he waited patiently as you freshened up and changed into dry clothes, his presence a reassuring warmth in the quiet of the room.

As you emerged, feeling somewhat more composed, you glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you, Joong," you murmured, genuinely touched by his unexpected tenderness.

He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting relief and determination. "It's only my job as your boyfriend," he replied earnestly.

Returning to the living room, you settled back onto the couch together. The warmth of his tea and his presence beside you enveloped you in a sense of security and hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, things could indeed change for the better between you.

You couldn't deny his affections any longer, his pleading look was enough to melt you into his embrace. As he gently pulled the throw blanket snugly around you, drawing you closer, your heart fluttered. His actions conveyed a heartfelt apology, reminding you why you could never leave this man, no matter how tiring things became. At the end of the day, you both belonged to each other, despite his occasional clumsiness; your love remained steadfast.

Nuzzling against his neck, you breathed in his familiar scent. "How's the car? Have you contacted insurance?" you murmured, slipping effortlessly into the role of the attentive girlfriend he knew so well.

With a tender smile, he shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Take care of everything. Take care of you."

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you tightened your grip on his sweater. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Kim Hongjoong," you teased gently.

He reassured you with a squeeze of your shoulder. "I won't, my darling. Not anymore."

Looking up at your boyfriend, you could see the honesty in his eyes. You knew perfection wasn't guaranteed from this point onward, but you at least trusted that he would always give his best effort.

And that was what mattered most.

"If you say so," you whispered, your eyes closing as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. Hongjoong understood your doubts, but this was where he would begin to earn your trust.

From now on, he would do everything to be the lover you deserved. He would learn from his mistakes and grow, all for the sake of the person he loved most in the world.

I swear, this came out of nowhere lmfao. I was supposed to be working on Jongho's TWTHH spinoff but this happened. Tbf, this has been swirling in my mind for the past week at work because something similar happened to me. I was soaked in the rain and my heel did snap. The 3-hour wait was also a past experience of mine, except that douchebag was no Kim Hongjoong HAHA

Thank you for reading and I hope you lovelies enjoyed this random little oneshot. As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[ashwhowrites]

Dungeons and Revenge

Plot- Eddie finds out the new guy in Hellfire is dating his ex girlfriend

Eddie watched intensely as he rolled his dice, along with Hellfire. The dice dinged against the table, all the boys standing up from their seats as they waited for it to land.

"THAT'S A HIT!" Eddie declared

The boys cheered as they defeated the dragon, ending the campaign for the night.

"HELL YES!" Mike cheered, high-fiving Dustin.

"Good game, boys. Until next time." Eddie said. The boys began packing up, and Eddie walked over to his newest member, Justin.

"J-man, amazing play," Eddie said, patting him on the shoulder. Justin smiled and stood up.

"Thanks, Eddie. Great campaign. It was sick to see all the dragons break apart and force us to save ourselves yet help each other."

Justin had been a member for a little over a month and Eddie hated to admit he was damn good. Not as good as Eddie though, no one ever was.

Eddie was always skeptical of letting new people join, but Justin earned his place and Eddie was starting to like him. He was a senior, a bit taller and more muscular than Eddie. Much shorter hair but just as dark, and a lighter shade of brown eyes.

The group all walked out into the parking lot, still talking about the amazing ending of the night. The conversation faded into the background when Eddie spotted a similar car in the parking lot.

"I was positive I was going to die once the monster spotted me," Dustin said, Mike added on but Eddie was still lost in staring at the parked car. He knew that car, it was hers. Y/N, his ex-girlfriend, is the girl he was still helplessly in love with.

Their relationship ended over five months ago and he still thought about her. He thought about their stupid fight, her wet eyes, and the loud bang as she slammed the door. He has barely seen her since, she did everything to avoid him. He looked for her everywhere, wanting to beg on his knees for another chance.

"Yo, Eddie you good?" Justin asked, taking Eddie out of his thoughts.

Eddie coughed and tore his eyes away, looking at the group of boys who stopped talking and were looking at him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Who needs a ride?" Eddie asked, his eyes already looking back at her car.

"Not me, my girlfriend is picking me up," Justin said with a smile. That love-sick puppy looks in his eyes. A look Eddie was familiar with, the one he always had for Y/N.

"Dude! Do you have a girlfriend? Is she hot?" Gareth asked

"We are fairly new, been seeing her for about two weeks. Made it official last night." Justin said with a smile. "And she's the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on."

"What's her name?" Dustin called after him, Justin already walking into the parking lot.

"Y/N," Justin called back.

Eddie felt his blood run cold, and air stopped entering his lungs. He felt like he was suffocating. All the boys knew Y/N was a touchy subject, and they feared for Eddie's reaction.

They all watched as he walked to the familiar car. A car Eddie spent many times in, so many memories flashed through his head; their first kiss through her window, their first time having sex in the backseat, and where he admitted he loved her.

Eddie tried to fight back tears and failed. A few tears ran down his face as Justin was in the passenger seat. Eddie was thankful he couldn't see her because that would have hurt more. He watched as they drove off, no one knowing what to say.

~

Eddie slammed the trailer door behind him as he raced to his room, storming past a worried Wayne as he locked his bedroom door. He threw his bag on the ground and collapsed on his bed. He screamed into his pillow, and then the screams turned into sobs.

He ignored as Wayne knocked on his door. He couldn't believe she moved on already. He wanted her to be in the same boat as him, he wanted to be the only boy on her mind. But the cold truth showed him he was nowhere in her mind.

He wanted to call, his fingers ghosting over the phone. But then he got a better idea, make her come to him. He wiped his face with his shirt and then grabbed his backpack. He tore it open and grabbed his dnd notebook.

~~~

Eddie was a wreck but tried his best to not show it. He hated that now whenever he saw Justin it hurt, and made him think about her. But he had a plan to get his revenge, to release his anger towards Justin for going after what was his.

The boys were nervous about playing now that they knew Justin was dating Eddie's ex-girlfriend. No one told Justin and he was oblivious to the target on his back. Dustin gulped when he saw the smirk and glint in Eddie's eyes.

~

"Yikes, Justin. Looks like you got hit by Lich again!" Eddie crackled, loving the way the boy groaned.

"Let me get in the room and see if I can help," Mike said.

Justin sighed in relief, hoping the rest of the group could join him as they took turns. But his hope was lost when Lich seemed to only target him. Justin thought hard about what he should do, he raised his shield and began to battle.

The boys watched as Eddie and Justin were going head to head. Justin rolled and was successful, able to use his shield as he struck at Lich.

"Remind me your AC?" Eddie asked, a happy smile on his face as he shook the dice.

"I feel like you would remember since this is the 5th hit in 2 rounds... but it's a 17." Justin sighed, starting to get annoyed that Eddie seemed to only target his player during the whole session.

Eddie nodded, enjoying the way he got Justin riled up. He was acting out of jealousy but so what. Justin is winning in life so Eddie might as well win in the game. Eddie rolled his dice onto the table, standing up to see over his books.

"Good! I rolled an 18." He wasn't afraid to show how smug he was, sitting back down with a cocky smirk.

~

The boys were less excited as they walked out of the session, almost no one spoke. Justin was slightly fuming at Eddie but he'd never challenge the master. But that's what Eddie wanted, he wanted Justin to get in his face. Just anything to give Eddie a reason to sucker punch him right in the nose.

Eddie stayed back, knowing he couldn't stand to see Justin going to her again.

Justin sighed as he got in the car, leaning over to softly peck Y/N's lips.

"How did it go?" Y/N asked, peeling out of the parking lot.

"Ass. I could barely fight back, Eddie kept hitting me from left and right. It almost felt like he was personally attacking me." Justin ranted. He had no idea what he did to piss him off.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Eddie's actions, and a bit of anxiety settled in her stomach as she knew why.

"I don't know what I did to him," Justin added

Y/N offered a small smile and moved her hand to softly rub his thigh as she kept her eyes on the road.

"Eddie used to be a good friend of mine, let me talk to him."

~

Eddie was watching the TV, with the volume on low to not disturb Wayne, when there were a few knocks on the door.

He groaned as he stood up, walking towards the door. He slightly cracked it, and his heart sped up when he saw her.

"Y/N?"

"We need to talk," she said, her arms crossed. Eddie opened the door and she walked past him. He closed the door and followed into his bedroom.

She sat on his bed as he walked in. He wanted to take a mental image of how she looked on his bed again. He walked towards her, softly reaching out to cup her face.

She pushed his hand away, and he gulped. He could already feel himself getting emotional as he continued to look at her.

"It's been so long," he said quietly, "I've missed seeing you."

She shook her head and stood up. Walking to the other side of the room to create more space.

"Why are you being a dick to Justin? He loved being part of Hellfire! And he was really upset tonight."

Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"He's whining about a game? Oh, come on, baby. It's a fucking game!" Eddie argued

"No, he's upset that you put a target on him and he has no idea why. But me? I've got a good idea why you are acting like a jackass," she fought back. Her eyes were hard but Eddie just loved having her eyes on him again.

"Why's that, sweetheart?" She wanted to smack the smirk off his face. She hated herself for how attracted she still was to him.

Ignoring the way the nicknames made her body heat up, she replied, "You found out about us and you got jealous. Which I'd like to remind you that you have no right to be jealous."

"No right?" Eddie laughed as he scoffed. "I'm fucking in love with you. Still, head over my feet for you, and you're dating some other guy!" His voice started to rise but he wasn't yelling.

"You broke up with me! Did you forget that? Did you remember that when you decided to have your pity party and take it out on a guy who seems to actually like me?" Y/N argued, she wasn't surprised by his behavior but she was surprised she'd still be dealing with it.

"I didn't BREAK UP WITH YOU!" He argued, his voice rising and rising.

"WELL YOU NEVER WENT AFTER ME!" She yelled back, throughout all the fighting they didn't notice how close they became. Their bodies were inches away, chest to chest.

"YOU TOLD ME NOT TO! I DIDN'T WANT TO KEEP SCREWING UP"

"YOU'RE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO GO AFTER ME. BEG ME AND TELL ME YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT ME!" her voice cracked as her yelling turned into soft sobs, "but yo-ou let me leave, I waited in my car and you never came" she whimpered.

Eddie gulped as he watched the tears fall down her face. He stepped forward, closing any space they had between them. His hands cupped her wet cheeks and he bent slightly down so his eyes were level with hers.

"I wanted to follow you so badly. I wanted to walk up to you anytime I got just a second of you. I've failed many times at not listening to you and I thought I was doing what you wanted. Baby, if I knew all I had to do was run after you I would have run in a heartbeat." He said

She sniffled and tried not to melt into his hands. His touch on her skin and his body inches from hers, it's all she craved those long five months.

"You had five months, Eddie. Why now? Why now when I just started to move on?"

"I'm selfish and can't watch another person make you happy. Not when I know I can. If you want to move on, I can't stop you. But if I can offer exactly what he can, I will do it a thousand times better." He said, and before she could blink his lips pressed against hers.

She melted as his warm lips moved against hers. The similarity of the kiss made her heart flutter. She tried to fight it, her hands on his chest to push. But then his hands moved down to her waist and he pulled away, but just barely.

A broken whisper or whimper, she couldn't tell, fell from his lips and landed on hers,

"Please"

She shoved every thought away that told her it was a bad idea. And listened to the way her heart raced like it only did with him. Her actions were fast, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him as hard as she could.

They moved in perfect synchrony, their lips fit together. They clung to each other desperately, making sure the other couldn't go too far away.

They kissed until their lungs burned, begging for air. She pulled away but kept her touch on him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. If you give me another chance, I promise, I will always run after you. I'll pick you up kicking and screaming and bring you home." He pleaded.

This was the first time Y/N believed she ever saw Eddie break down and beg. He was always so damn stubborn, but now he cried and pleaded.

"What if you promise not to make me want to run away?" She joked, a tiny laugh leaving her lips. Eddie softly chuckled, sniffling.

"Anything you want and need," he said, softly kissing her lips again.

"What the hell do I tell Justin?" She asked

"I'll write it into the camping," Eddie joked, loving when she swatted at his chest.

Forgiveness is a long road and he was ready to walk it all.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[dronningreid]

All the times I knew you

↳ A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist | main masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[towasdandelion]

Asking Frostheim, Jabberwock and Hotarubi ghouls "What would you do if I was tiny?"

Jin is not very impressed. But that doesn't mean he would just leave you on your own. Despite his cold exterior, he'd care for you surprisingly well. He'd be careful not to hurt you in any way, gently placing you in the pocket over his heart. Anyone who would dare to approach and ask about you would be silenced.

You're a handful for Tohma, you know? That's why we can't blame him for entertaining the thought of you being tiny. He could finally take a breath and easily keep an eye on you! Are there even disadvantages? Let's see.. He'd miss being able to look at your face and seeing your big relieved smile as he agrees to help you once again.

Luca is a sweetheart, there's no doubt about that. No matter what it is, he'll be there to help you. Even if it's just a hypothetical scenario. And having cute tiny you with him at all times sounds so nice. It's not a secret you're well liked so having you like this for himself sounds really good. But he doesn't want to appear selfish.

A win is a win. For Kaito it wouldn't matter if you're tiny or not. He will take any chance to spend time with you, just the two of you. He would help you of course. But... Can you stay like this for a bit longer? Please?

You're not escaping Haku's teasing I'm afraid. Not now not ever. For him, having you in a tiny form would make it even better. There's nowhere for you to run... Well not like you'd want to when he would do his best to take care of you, right? You'd only have to put up with more of his teasing.

Subaru always needs a moment to answer your bizzare questions. But he wants to give you truthful answers. He'd want to make sure you feel comfortable especially in a situation where you're dependent on him. He would do his best to still treat you with respect and kindness.

Zenji likes your bizzare questions. They inspire him in a way. I feel like he would always look for good in bad and this time it would be the same. Being a ghost wouldn't stop him from helping you. He would use his artifact to his advantage to bring you everywhere with him.

You really have nothing to worry about with Haru. He would take good care of you! Doesn't matter if the question is only a hypothetical one. He's helping. But please do actually help him too, as his "little assistant". He would appreciate it a lot.

Ren is slightly disappointed. What do you mean you're just asking hypothetically? He would definitely have the time of his life, I'm sorry. He wouldn't actually hurt you in any way, but he would annoy the hell out of you, just how you usually did to him. But then he remembers he wouldn't be able to play games with you. And suddenly the idea is not as fun as he thought.

Every scenario where Towa can take care of you is a happy one. You'd be even smaller and fragile, so naturally he would protect you. I can see him happily humming as he makes a bed for you from the flowers he collected. The only disadvantage would be that he wouldn't really care about turning you back to normal.. You'd have to explain everything to him.

[kaechu1]

FEM PIRATE X SIREN! POSEIDON !

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ note: here ray @plushiesssforcrying don't ever request something else /j

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ warning: none

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ content: this an au so Poseidon is just siren, no one is dead and everyone is happy. cocky Poseidon, a little misogynistic if i may say... mocking.. alot

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴art by: @/neal-illustrator

sealing through the sea is one of the few things that you love doing, you love the sea and it seems to love you back. at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

and now after months of sealing through the oceans and exploring the different islands you come upon it's time to go back to your home land. ithaca.

even with all islands you've come across nothing comes close to ithaca, it was your home and the only place who ever felt like it.

or at least the people there make you feel like it, your family.

you missed your brother, always wondering what he's doing, probably trying to keep the kingdom together or busy flirting with his wife, as usual. how about your sister? ehh she's probably doing the same.

having two married siblings was not your favorite thing, you actually hated it, they are always lovey dovey and keep talking about how much they love their spouse, it's annoying.

but even with all them being all over their spouse they never push you into marrying anyone or stop you from doing what you like, and you love them for that.

but to be honest your favorite wasn't your brother Odysseus or your sister ctimene. nor it's any of their spouses.

it was your nephew Telemachus.

he always looked up to you and always listened to your stories about your "adventures" as he loves to call it, he was always so excited when you come back to hear more of your stories, he even begged his parents to go with you, unfortunately your brother refused.

you always make sure to bring him something from everywhere you go so he can put it in his 'collection'.

as you rest in your room looking at the new jewelry you got from some land you just were on, "ctimene would go feral for this" you told yourself as you giggled at the idea.

then suddenly you hear the door of your room open. it was polites your second in command, since he wasn't married or didn't have anyone of ithaca he decided to join you, or your brother just hired him to look after you. no one know

"captain.. you need to see this.." you never heard polites so worried before, you know something must be horribly wrong if polites himself is worried.

"I'm coming" you said as you nod to him before putting your stuff away as you follow polites to the deck.

"did the one of crew start a fight again? i swear those big babie-" you said annoyingly at the thought of your crew starting a fight again, it happened at least two times this week.

but you weren't finished as polites cut you off. "no, i think it's something way worse" he said as his tone didn't change from when he first came. something must be dangerous.

as you reach the deck everyone was suspiciously silent, that weird, they're never this quite..

as polites finally took you to the gunwale you finally see what was the reason of all this fuzz.

"a ship?" you said weirdly. was all this just for a ship? then when you took a closer look you realized something, the ship was in the middle of the sea but it was... empty.

"we keep calling but no one answered, we assumed that no one is one the ship" says polites as he continues scanning the ship.

an empty ship in the middle of nowhere in the sea? that could only mean one thing.

"sirens." you said quietly as you continue glaring at the ship, making sure that there's no one there. polites didn't say anything, he just nod in agreement.

"tell the crew to get prepared. I'll take care of the rest" you said as you start walking away from the deck and into the store where you put all the stuff you need for situations like these. robs and bees wax.

from the other side you can hear everyone taking their places as polites lead them. you can say you never face things like these before, but you always keep prepared.

as polites ties the last crew member to the mast and make sure that the robs are tied enough and he can't escape them he starts walking towards you, you where standing look into the horizon, scanning the sea for anything.

polites gently tap your shoulder to get your attention , you quickly turn to him as he holds a rob on his hands.

"did you put bee wax in your ears yet?" He asks gently, and then you realize you were too busy getting everyone ready that you forget about yourself.

you curse under your breath as you speak "it doesn't matter, sirens song doesn't work on women... right?" you said slowly giving polites time to read your lips.

polites smile quickly turns upside down as he looks at you with 'are you serious look' but he knows no matter how he tries to argue, it's already too late and they're getting closed.

"okay if you say so, but please let me at least tie you so i can pull you when needed" he said gently as he started tying your hips with rob. you didn't wanna argue too so you let him tie you.

After a while polites stay away from the gunwale as you continue looking around, nothing is there which starts to worry you. if there's no sirens then why the ship was empty.

suddenly your thoughts get cut off as you hear a sound, as if something is moving in the water near you, you quickly pull on the rob attached to your hips slowly informing polites that something is near.

as you continue to scan the water there where you saw it, or more like it saw you.

you saw a face slowly rising from the water, and there you saw it. a siren.

you continue staring into each other as the only thing visible from this siren was her face. and you gotta say, she's hot as fuck.

"we don't want any problems, just let us pass and we both got to live" you said firmly looking at the siren as if you weren't scared of her, which was true. maybe.

the siren didn't say anything for a while but she looked at you with a confused look. was she confused because you talked to her? or because you just threaten her? or that's her first time seeing a pirate woman.

anyway your thoughts were all crushed as she finally talked.

"you're... a woman?" she- or better say he said as he sounds almost mocking.

HOLD THE FUCK UP THAT WAS A MAN ALL ALONG??!

"hold up since when sirens were men??" you said more quickly than your mind could think. you didn't even realize those words until you hear the siren- no merman, tbh whatever, laugh almost mocking at you.

"since when did they let women lead a ship?" he said as he crossed his arms, smirking as he made fun of you.

"that sounds pretty misogynistic for a fish man." you said as you look at what you called now fish man.

"triton you mean woman" he said as he looked at you. still with a mockingly looking smirk.

sirens normally kill, but he doesn't, he's worse. he judges you.

"whatever you are i guess, just let us pass peacefully" you said as you roll your eyes, as much as you love reading about the sea, you never knew that sirens could be this sassy.

"I'd normally eat and drag all of you into the water but it's my first time seeing a pirate woman, kinda interesting don't you think" he said the last part with ridiculous mockery, that made you question your life choices.

"you're too pretty for that kind of attitude" you said again putting your hands on your hips, you again say something without thinking, it's a habit at this point.

"ohh you think I'm pretty? why not come closer and get a better look, my dear" he said opening his arms as if he was telling you to come to him.

"yea no one is falling for that dumby" you said as you roll your eyes. does he think it's your first time on a ship or he's just making fun of you.

"worth a shot" he said as he throws his hand in the air. are you sure this is a siren and not punishment from god? why tf he's acting like this.

"you sure you're a siren-" you were talking but you were cut off short by his angry reply

"triton."

"i don't give a fuck."

nvm what i just say, saying things without thinking was part of you. tbh, it was your whole personality.

he just continued staring at you for a few moments before laughing again.

"you're bold, I'll give you that. you're way too fun to kill, maybe I'll keep you alive for entertainment" he said as he got closer to the ship. is this man- no, fish serious?

"yea I'd rather not, i have a family waiting for me, so if you don't mind leaving us pass" you said as you step a little away from the edge.

"okay." he said. wait, that's it?? oh he's messing with you again. right?

"I'll see you again another time beautiful, stay toned. name Poseidon btw." he said before diving.

what. the. fuck. just. happened.

you just stood there confused, did he just really let you go? wait could it be that he's planning something? of course he's planning something sirens are way too wicked-

your thoughts cut quickly by a tap on your shoulder. it was polites.

"captain you're okay? we're almost there see!" he said with the same smile he always had on.

as you start looking around you realize that the men are already free from their robs as everyone took their usual place. wait how long have you been dozen out??

as you look to the front of the ship you saw it, ithaca was close now.

"did something happen with the sirens? i saw you talking but couldn't catch what you were talking about" he said as he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

you didn't fully understand what happened. first you saw a really hot siren and then he started flirting with you, then he said something about finding you again- you lost track.

"nothing, you don't worry about it." you said quickly as you brushed the subject, you were not about to tell your best friend that you fell for siren, cocky one.

"if that's what you say then very well. make sure to rest, were reaching soon and you should be prepared to meet everyone there" said polites before offering one last smile as he started walking away.

as you think about the siren again something in you twitch. you didn't just fall for a siren right? your brother will throw you into the sea if he knows.

well, looks like you got another story to tell Telemachus, but definitely not any of your siblings. you like being alive.

who knows maybe you'll get to meet again.