#it feels like you have a better understanding of who they are to each other than even i do 😌 very much a fan

[dailynnt]

♡⃟࿔ BETWEEN FEIGNED HATRED AND REAL DESIRE ♡⃟࿔

𑁤 Summary: You can't stand Jungkook, your brother's arrogant, cocky friend who is just waiting for an opportunity to annoy you. He always finds a way to get under your skin, and you were sure that what you hated more than him was the idea of having any feelings for him. But one accident changes everything. Left with him in a locked, cramped room, where every breath is a fire between you two, you realizes that you hatred has always been hidden behind something deeper. Something that cannot be denied, cannot be ignored.

𑁤 Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook • Y/N

𑁤 Age restrictions: 18+

𑁤 Size: one shot

𑁤 Tags: best friend brother, school au, y/n Hoseok sister, from enemies to lovers, sexual tension, unprotected sex, detailed description of sexual scenes, swear words, slightly domJK.

𑁤 Dedication: A late Valentine's Day gift 💘 @myjungkookthighs, @kelsyx33, @someoneelse0109, @mskookie, @kooccult, , @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art, @rispwr, @kooko007, @medstudentlifestyle

𑁤 From author: Another of my fantasies that resulted in this, in my opinion, an interesting work. It seems that there are many such works, but you know each author writes in his own way 🥹💕 Therefore, please enjoy, this is a gift ( 🤫 Late gift) for Valentine's Day 💞🫶🏻💜

Your story seems is typical. You hated one of your brother's best friends. All five of the Bulletproof boys on your school's volleyball team were just perfect.

Namjoon, tall, strong, and very smart. Jin is tall, funny, and handsome. Yoongi is quiet, talented, and can always talk to you about anything. Jimin is cheerful, charismatic, and has a subtle sense of humor. Taehyung was synonymous with the word beauty, he was cute but also a tomboy.

And him. Jeon Jungkook. He was a walking nightmare who was hotter than fire, but had a temper that pissed you off. His favorite thing to do was to tease you. He would do just that when he came to your house to hang out at a party thrown by Hoseok, your brother, or when you were having lunch at school with your brother and a whole bunch of his friends sat down with you. Jungkook was always there. And you were literally sick of him.

There was tension between you because your conversation always ended with you screaming and wanting to scratch his face.

Today was Valentine's Day and you hated it. Why? Who wouldn't hate those sweet couples in love who kissed or hugged each other almost everywhere they went? Why are they so annoying on this particular day?

Physical education is over, the last class of the day. You took a shower and went to the locker room. The girls were all gathered together, talking, joking about Valentine's Day.

"Girls, let's each say who we would like to fuck today?" - Kim Sora, who was your bestie, suggested. Only the girls from your company were left in the locker room. They were all mostly cheerleaders, but you weren't. "I'd like Namjoon." - She says first. Everyone laughs and Hewon and Seolha say they would like Namjoon too.

"And I would like Yoongi. His aloof and almost bored behavior turns me on so much. I would know how to make him feel better." - Sejong says, and you burst out laughing. She's had her eye on Yoongi for a while now, but he's not paying attention.

"God, I can't decide between Taehyung and Jimin. They're both so hot, can I have both?" - Sumin asks. You laugh again as you put on your sweatpants. You look at yourself in the mirror.

"Y/N hope you'll forgive me, but I'd like to fuck your brother." - Arin says. You turn to her and grimace.

"Goshhh, Arin, I thought you had better taste." - The girls laugh, but you don't. You genuinely don't understand what girls find sexy about your brother. But fortunately, you don't have to.

"And you're Y/N? You're the only one who hasn't said yet." - Arin laughs and all the girls pay attention to you. You are a little nervous about their attention, and you walk back to the bench where your T-shirt was lying. You put it on.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm interested in any of the Bulletproofs." - You say casually.

"No, you're a liar." - Sora says, and you turn a sharp look at her. You raise your eyebrows. No. She's not going to tell you about him. "Girls, do you know who she dreams of fucking?" - Sora smiles slyly.

"Don't you dare talk about him." - You threaten your bestie , who breaks into an even more evil smile. All the girls squeal almost in unison.

"Who? Who is it?" - Arin squeals.

"Who is our impregnable ice queen dreaming about? Is it Yoongi?" - Hewon asked.

"Hey, Yoongi is mine!" - Shouted Sejong.

"No, I don't want your Yoongi!" - You said. You hurriedly started to pack your things so that you could run away before Sora said anything about him.

"No, it's not Yoongi." - Sora said. She was silent for a moment. You gave her an angry look and said with one lip, "I'm going to kill you." "It's Jungkook." - Sora finally said, and everything broke inside you. All the girls gasped.

"Jungkook?" - Hewon shouted out. "She hates him just as much as he hates her."

"I don't want him." - You said harshly. All the girls stared at you. "I barely live on the same planet as him, and you're saying this." - For some reason you were trying to justify yourself. And when you realized it, you decided it was better to leave. "Don't say stupid anymore like that. I'm going home." - You said more calmly. You stopped at the threshold and turned to Sora. "Sora, you are in trouble." - You smiled sweetly and hurried away.

You were so angry. You couldn't stand Jungkook, how could you want him? He was so horrible. You walk away with quick steps, clutching your bag. Your chest burns with anger mixed with shame. How could she do that? How could she say that out loud?

You raced down the path from the gym, clutching the straps of your bag so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your heart was pounding and your cheeks were burning. Jungkook? Was it him? Why the hell would Sora say something like that in front of everyone?

You stopped, took a deep breath. You never want him. You can't stand him. He's been annoying you since the first day you met him. He's arrogant, self-confident, always sure of his own attractiveness.

And for some reason... You stopped abruptly when you saw him. Jungkook stood next to his motorcycle, wearing a black T-shirt that fit his muscular body and above it black bomber. He was twirling his helmet in his hands, and his eyes slid over you as if by accident.

Your face flushed even more. He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" - He said, smiling slightly. You took a step back in confusion.

"Nothing!" - You answered too sharply. His smile grew wider, almost impudent.

"You look..." - He tilted his head, studying you. "Tense."

"Go to hell, Jungkook." - You gritted your teeth and tried to walk away, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You froze.

He took another step closer, leaning in so that you could smell his perfume. For some reason, your heart started pounding furiously.

"Wait." - He purred.

"Are you crazy? Let go of me. What do you want?" - You hissed, trying to pull your hand away, but he only squeezed your wrist tighter. His eyes darkened and a strange pleasure appeared in his voice.

"By any chance, were you thinking about me right now?" - His voice was as mocking as ever.

"You…!" - You choked with anger.

"Because you blushed." - He added hoarsely. Something tightened in your chest. You going to kill Sora.

"If you don't let go now, you'll lost your golden bells." - You threaten, and your face expresses absolute anger. He laughs, but lets go. Because you usually keep your words. You give him a scorching look and walk home.

You get almost home, and when you want to call your oppa, you are horrified to realize that there is no phone. You dig through your pockets and search your bag, but it's not there. Damn it, you must have left it in the locker room.

You swear about everything, cursing this day, and go back to school. It takes you at least 30 minutes to get to the locker room. Almost no one is in the school anymore. You look for your phone, but it's nowhere to be found. You swear again and try to figure out where you could have left it. You desperately searched for your phone in the locker room, under the benches, in your things. But it was nowhere to be found. Fuck!

You exhaled loudly and ran a hand through your hair. Someone must have found it by now and taken it away.

"Looks like that girl has sown something again." - You flinched at the familiar voice. You turned sharply to find Jungkook standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest.

"What do you want?" - You asked abruptly. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I saw you running like a madman. I figured you were in trouble again." - He said bored. But his gaze was absolutely focused on you.

"I'm not in trouble!" - You were indignant.

"Yeah, you're just running around grumbling to yourself." - Jungkook said with a slight smile. You rolled your eyes.

"I just left my phone here." - You said, irritated. Jungkook shrugged again, but suddenly started walking around the locker room, looking under the benches. You raised your eyebrows and watched him. "What are you doing?" - You asked.

"Helping you find it." - He said looking at the windowsill.

"I didn't ask you to. Get out." - You say harshly, turning away from him. Although for some reason you don't want him to leave. And you want to hit yourself for feeling this way.

"Come on." - He said, coming closer. You glanced over your shoulder. He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. "What's wrong with helping my best friend's sister."

You turned away and grimaced, but inside you still felt a little relieved.

A few minutes later, you walked out of the locker room, and you looked around again, trying to remember where else you might have left your phone.

"Maybe in the gym?" - Jungkook suggested.

"Maybe..." - You mumbled, holding a little further away from him. He silently turned around and headed that way. "Hey! I told you, I don't need your help!" - You said, trying to get rid of him.

"Then just don't follow me!" - He threw over his shoulder without even stopping. You gritted your teeth and followed him anyway.

The gym was empty. You walked around it, looked in all the corners, and suddenly Jungkook stopped at a small room with sports equipment.

"Have you looked here yet?" - He asks, peering in. He walks over and opens the door wider. "I saw you go in here in class to get a ball." - Jungkook remembers.

"I wouldn't leave it here." - You argue, coming up behind him. He turns his head toward you.

"I think we should check here too." - He said and went inside. You looked at him skeptically and followed him inside.

The storage room was small, filled with balls, mats, and other equipment. You cautiously walked around the small room. It was lit by a single small window, through which the rays of the setting sun were breaking through. While you were looking at the stand with the volleyballs, you suddenly heard something. A click. The door closed. And immediately there was a sound that made you freeze. A lock.

"No, no, no..." - You turned around jerkily and pulled the doorknob. But in vain. You heard footsteps outside.

"Yeah... I think this is the last one." - You heard a muffled voice. "Finally, all the rooms are closed."

You pressed yourself against the door.

"HEY! SOMEONE HELP US! SOMEONE IS HERE!" - You pounded on the door, but nothing seemed to happen. Jungkook laughed.

"Damn, that's funny." - He said leaning on the stand. You slowly turned your head to him.

"You think it's funny?" - You squeaked. He held up his hands. "We've been locked in here. And probably on purpose."

"Hey, calm down. It's an accident, who would lock us in here on purpose?" - He asked skeptically. You slammed the door with your palm.

"Damn it!!! You're to blame for this!" - You screamed.

"Me?" - Jungkook was genuinely surprised.

"You dragged me here!" - You countered. He laughed out loud.

"My baby, you chose to follow me." - Jungkook said defiantly through hysterical laughter.

"Don't call me that!" - You shouted. You were shaking with anger. You'd lost your phone somewhere, but worse than that, you were locked in a small room with a man you couldn't stand.

"What? 'My baby' this word makes you angry?" - He asked again and smiled again. You looked around frantically.

"We have to get out of here. Call someone, Hosoku or whoever, and get us out." - You said.

"Oh, of course we have to get out. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with me in a cramped room..." - He suddenly took a step closer. "...alone." - You clenched your fists. Reflexively stepping back to the door.

"Don't do this. Just pick up the fucking phone and call my brother." - You said.

"Don't do what?" - Jungkook stopped one step away. You took another step back. There must be a door somewhere. "I think you don’t want that I’m really calling to anyone." - He said, leaning closer. You froze. He smiled slightly, his gaze sliding over your face, then to your lips. "Even you don't mind?" - Your heart beat faster. But you had to control yourself. You clenched your teeth.

"If you don't shut up now..." - You threatened, losing what little self-control you had when Jungkook pinned his gaze on your lips and took another half step closer.

"What?" - He lowered his voice. You could hear the noise in your ears and the frantic pounding of your heart. Jungkook must have heard it too, because he suddenly smiled mysteriously.

"I'm going to kill you." - You tried to say in your usual tone. The one you used every time you spoke to Jungkook. But as he stood so close and looked at your lips, you heard your voice break.

"Really?" - He asked. You suddenly realized the gravity of the situation and seemed to see yourself from the outside. You were like an antelope being caught by a lion.

You were ready to kick him, but he suddenly grabbed your wrist and sharply pushed you against the front door. Your heart was pounding even faster. His face was close. Too close.

"If you hate me so much..." - His voice was hoarse. "Why are you embarrassed next to me?" - You wanted to protest. You don't get embarrassed next to him. He always annoys you, and all you do is get angry and yell at him. Jungkook leaned in even closer, his lips near your ear. "If I kiss you now, will you push me away?" - He whispered. You felt his breath on your skin and knew he was playing with you. But what was even worse was that, against your will, you began to like this game.

You leaned back against the front door, your pulse pounding in your temples, and Jungkook's breath barely touching your skin.

"I'll push you away." - You gritted out, trying to raise your hands to push him away, but he grabbed them and pinned them behind your back, intertwining your fingers. You tried to get free, but he held you tighter. His closeness and the smell of his perfume made your legs go limp. He smiled.

"Oh, you do?" - He asked boldly. Your nails dug painfully into his palms.

"Don't play with me, Jungkook." - You threaten, looking into his eyes filled with mischief. "I'm going to tell Hoseok that you were hitting on me." - Jungkook giggled softly.

"You won't." - He said confidently. "Because you like what I do." - His lips were almost touching your ear. You flinched, but tried to pull away from him anyway.

"I don't like it. You're too confident." - You said firmly. He pressed even closer, and then... backed away. You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. Jungkook had stirred up something in you that you weren't supposed to feel before.

"Do you want me to stop to make fun of you?" - He suddenly asked. You raised your eyebrows and shifted on your feet.

"What?" - You asked quietly. Jungkook smiled predatory.

"I suggest we end this here. Once and for all. Here's the deal. You do one thing I ask and I'll never make fun of you again." - He offered. It sounds tempting. The prospect of getting rid of Jungkook forever is too tempting.

"What are you suggesting?" - You ask sharply.

"Kiss me." - He says. You are frozen. But then you almost laughed.

"Are you silly? What kind of nonsense is that?" - You laugh. Jungkook takes a step forward and you don't take your eyes off him.

"Just kiss me and this will be over." - Jungkook says. You clench your jaw. Should you kiss him? Only if the world ends.

"I won't..." - You say indignantly. Jungkook is close again, and your pulse is pounding in your temples.

"Why, are you scared?" - He smiles even wider. "Do you think you'll like it?"

You grit your teeth. He dares you. He's just playing with you. He won't leave you alone even if you kiss him now. The thought of kissing him is driving you crazy. If you do it now, he'll laugh forever.

But...

Why did your hand suddenly almost jerk forward? Why did his gaze seem to evoke something hot and uncontrollable inside you? You took a deep breath. Could he be serious now? You don't know if you can trust him one hundred percent, but for some reason you think he's serious.

"Okay." - You finally agree. Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

"What?" - His voice is pure surprise. You took a step toward him, grabbed him by the collar of his bomber jacket, and go on your tiptoes, slowly reaching for his lips... You could almost feel his warmth when he pulled away at the last moment.

You froze. You opened your eyes and saw his sly smile.

"You..." - You said quietly, boiling with rage. He laughed, brazenly, smugly, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. How humiliating.

"So you really want to kiss me? You said you didn't like it. You didn't really think I'd let you do it that easily, did you?" - The blood rushed to your head.

"You... asshole." - You punched him in the chest, but he just laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you were so determined to kiss me. Did you really? You hate me so much and you wanted to kiss me?" - He asks through his laughter. You got even more angry and started to hit him, but he quickly caught your arms and turned you around, pinning you against the wall again. He pinned you from behind and you felt his crotch pressing against your ass. You were breathing fast.

"That's enough, baby. I don't want to fight you." - He mumbled in your ear. His fingers tightened around your wrists, which he had pinned against the wall. "I thought you were so cold..." - His voice dropped to a whisper. "But you're heating up faster than I thought."

"Let go of me." - You hissed, wriggling away. But he didn't listen.

Instead, he turned you around and before you could realize it, he was kissing you. Hotly, greedily, so that your breath hitched and your thoughts were mixed. He pressed against you harder, and you... You didn't push him away.

On the contrary, your fingers tightened involuntarily on his bomber jacket. You hated him. But... You wanted it.

When he pulled away from you, his lips were still barely touching yours, and his voice sounded bold and deep at the same time.

"Should we stop?" - He asked. You were breathing heavily, your mind screaming no, but your body was reaching forward treacherously. His gaze burned you. Deep, dark, filled with something that made your body stiffen and your heart pound furiously in your chest.

Jungkook's lips barely touched your cheek, then slowly slid down to your jawline. His breath is hot and tickles your skin, making you shiver.

"I knew it." - He whispers. "You're not pushing me away."

"I..." - You stutter, not sure what to say. His hands, warm and strong, slid down your body. He slipped his hand under your sweatpants and squeezed your buttocks as if he didn't want to let go, as if he wanted to leave a mark on you-not just on your skin, but deeper, somewhere you'd never let him touch.

"Mmm?" - His lips touched your ear. "What are you going to say now?" - You wanted to say that this was a mistake. That you didn't want this. But your breath gave you away. Deep, shuddering, with an echo of desire. Jungkook smiled slightly, his other hand slowly moving up along your waist, tugging at the fabric of your T-shirt. "Do you want me to stop?"

His lips descended to your neck, a light bite, a burnt touch of his tongue that sent an electric shock through your body.

"Tell me..." - He demanded, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. You couldn't say no. Because your fingers had already slid over his chest, you could feel the muscles rippling under the fabric, and your body was treacherously searching for him.

"Jungkook..." - His name sounded almost pleading on your lips.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours again, even hotter, even more greedy. This kiss was no longer a game. It was real. And you already knew you had given in.

His hand that had been squeezing your buttocks slid down your thighs and came to your front. Without taking his lips from yours, he parted your folds and touched your clit with his fingers. You unconsciously moaned into his mouth. He smiled into your lips.

He massaged your clitoris so gently and so wonderfully that you thought that if he hadn't been holding you down, you would have fallen over. The circular movements on your sensitive center were driving you crazy.

Jungkook plunged his fingers into your passage and finally pulled away from your lips. You were both breathing heavily, very close together. You felt his hard cock resting against your thigh.

"You're so wet for me, baby." - He whispers breathlessly. You can't speak, because the friction from his fingers prevents you from doing so. "Do you want more? I can fuck you right now." - Jungkook offers. You raise your eyebrows, moaning softly. Jungkook pulls up your t-shirt to reveal your breasts.

You're not wearing a bra. You didn't put it on after gym class because you were sweating and didn't want to wear a dirty bra. You didn't plan to go back to school, but you forgot your phone.

"I've always wondered what those nipples taste like." - Jungkook hummed and leaned over to one of them. His lips captured your sensitive flesh and sucked. You felt him smile. You held his shoulders and tried not to go crazy with his skillful fingers inside you.

"Jungkook..." - You called out to him. He didn't answer. He just moved to your other nipple and played with it with his tongue. "Please..." - You breathed out. The Jungkook left your nipple and you felt the cold air contrasting with the licked nipple.

"What is it baby?" - He asked into your lips then. But suddenly he pulls his hand out and puts his fingers into his mouth. You breathe heavily and watch him suck his fingers soaked in your cum. "You really want me to fuck you?" - Jungkook wants to make sure. You bite your lip, unable to say it out loud. But yes. You do want him to fuck you.

Jungkook glanced between your bodies. His hard cock was already resting against your pussy. He made a few thrusts and you squeezed his clothes harder.

"Go ahead and say it, or I won't continue." - He says tensely. A hush escapes your lips.

"You're lying." - Suddenly, your voice cuts through. "You won't be able to stop now." - Jungkook laughs. You're so damn right. He's either going to fuck you or…he's going to fuck you.

"You're such a smart girl. But you have to let me." - He warns you gently. But you don't answer right away. You think again that this could be a joke. What if will you let him now and he walks away again? And then what? Or you'll let him fuck you now and he'll tell someone that you begged him.

"Do you want me?" - You asked, instead of letting him. Jungkook pulled away and looked into your eyes. He saw how much you wanted him. He wanted you too, your question was so stupid.

"Isn't it obvious?" - He asked with an arched eyebrow. You ran your fingers down his neck, took out his hair and dipped it in your hands, stroking it.

"Just say it. Do you want to fuck me right now?" - You asked, smiling seductively. Jungkook smiled back reflexively. His eyes grew darker.

"Fuck it!" - He cursed. "Yeah. I want to fuck you so hard you can't sit up." - He said with anticipation in his voice. He put his hands on your hips and squeezed them. You smile satisfied, now you can let him.

"Then do it Jeon." - You say and his lips crash against yours. His tongue enters your mouth and finds yours. You get even wetter from his kisses. You want more and he just promised you.

Jungkook breaks your kiss and in one swift movement leaves you without your sweatpants and panties. He falls to his knees in front of your pussy and his eyes are filled with lust. You breathe raggedly looking down at him. You could never have imagined such a picture in your head. Jungkook smiles at you from the corner of his lips and presses his lips to your pussy.

You grab his shoulders and squeeze them. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue traces long streaks across your folds. Your legs tremble as he sucks on the tip of your clit, and you are just in bliss. You press your head against the door and your moans fill this cramped room.

Jungkook sucks hard on your clit. At one point he plunges his fingers back into your passage to stretch you. You are almost going crazy. It's the first time you've ever been eaten, and it feels so fucking good. Jungkook's skillful tongue takes you to heaven. It doesn't take long for you to come right on his tongue. He feels you twitching and spends some more time his tongue on your clit enjoying every drop of you.

You stop twitching and he finally pulls his lips away from your pussy. You look down at him, breathing heavily. You see his chin shining with your juices.

Jungkook stands up, wiping his chin with his hand. He takes your neck with his hand, pulling you closer.

"As expected, you are as sweet as honey. I should have tasted you sooner. But you hated me." - He says and then kisses you. He puts his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. And it turns you on.

Not one of your boyfriends you've dated has ever eaten you because they thought it was not normal. Even though blow jobs are commonplace for them.

But Jungkook, did it in the first. You've heard about it from your friends and have been dying to try it. You want to laugh at the thought that the first person to eat you was Jungkook and he did it so damn well.

"If I had known that your tongue could do more than just talk nonsense, I would have been more sympathetic to you." - You said with a seductive smile as Jungkook broke your kiss so you could breathe in. He laughed, sincerely and infectiously. You laughed along with him. "So what? Do I have to do to make you feel good?" - You ask and reach for his pants. Jungkook is also wearing sweatpants, so your hand sinks inside without any obstacles, successfully passing through his boxers.

Jungkook pulls away slightly and lowers the looking between your bodies. He only sees your hand disappear somewhere in his pants, but when you feel his length and your fingers pump up the it, he barely holds back a moan. You arched your eyebrows and pretended to look like "not bad."

"You're bigger than I might imagined." - Jungkook looks up at you and smiles cockily. "I thought that if you had such a long tongue, your dick was tiny." - You mock. You couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Jungkook didn't appreciate your joke. He grabbed your face gently with one hand and he another hand leaned against the wall to steady himself.

"You're going to regret thinking that. Because my cock will make you scream." - He said powerfully against your lips, but you weren't afraid, you smiled playfully,. Before you can say anything in your defense, Jungkook kisses you again. Insistently, authoritatively, and deeply, as if he trying to prove something to you. You pull down his pants and boxers below his buttocks to have a better opportunity to jerk him off.

Jungkook moans into your mouth as you speed up your movements. He's getting hard in your hands and you can feel it well.

Jungkook pulls away from your swollen lips with all his might and stops you.

"That's enough, you better give me your pussy so that you realize how wrong you were." - You smile at his words and let him. He turns your back to him. You hear him moving behind you, obviously pulling his pants down. You press your hands against the door and wait for that moment.

Jungkook takes his cock in his hands and pumps you on buttocks several times. He slams it into your buttocks and you breathe heavily. He touches your folds with his fingers, runs them over your pussy to smear your moisture.

You finally feel the head of his cock touch your entrance. You hold your breath. Jungkook leans down to your ear and whispers one last time.

"Please be quiet, so the whole school doesn't hear you screaming from my cock." - He grabs your head and turns you around to kiss you. Your mind is foggy with lust, excitement, and his words.

Finally, you feel pressure on your passage. Jungkook holds your hips. Slowly but surely, he plunges into you. You feel pain when only his head is inside. You scream out, which makes him smile.

"So you're already regretting thinking that?" - You hear his voice somewhere behind you. You say something unintelligible and then scream again as he presses harder. His cock is really big. The biggest you've ever had inside you. Jungkook hisses. "Fuck you're tight, so tight, baby." - You want to smile but you can't, it hurts. Jungkook finally takes over completely. You both freeze to get used to the sensations. Your hot breath leaves marks on the door.

"That feels so fucking good." - You say quietly, so Jungkook doesn't hear that his cock makes you feel so good.

"Are you okay baby?" - He asks leaning down to your cheek. You smile because you're glad he didn't hear what you said a moment ago.

"Yeah. Everything is fine." - You say honestly.

"Then get ready. Because I'm going to fuck you hard." - He warns. Jungkook straightens up and moves his hips. You bite your lip to keep from screaming. The first movements are painful. The next ones are pain mixed with pleasure. And when Jungkook sets a good pace, you feel absolute bliss. You can't stop moaning. He moves his hips so well creating exactly the friction you like.

But Jungkook doesn't stay gentle for long, at some point his thrusts become sharper, deeper. His fingers touch your thighs with a certain force. The cock presses into you as much as possible and you feel he shudders in your middle.

The sensations are simply incomparable. He is so good at this. Jungkook fucks you perfectly. Like no other. It's just nonsense. The best fuck you've ever had is not with someone you love, it’s with Jungkook, who you hate, and not on white sheets, but in a school in the small room with sports equipment. It's crazy.

"That feels so fucking good. Baby, you're just perfect for me." - Jungkook compliments you. He finds your clit with his hands and you can't stand the stimulation.

"Koo... please..." - You say between exhaling moans.

"What did you call me?" - Jungkook asks as he continues to fuck you. You feel a sweet bliss brewing in your lower abdomen.

"Koo..." - You moan his shortened name.

"Damn... You can call me that whenever you want to fuck." - He offers. You raise your eyebrows and open your mouth. Does he think this is not your only time? Right now, you're almost on the verge of cumming around him. And you think that you wanted it to be more than once, too. You want this amazing sex was constantly. But what will happen when you come out from this room, and you finally realize what you've done.

But the knot in your stomach unravels and you come, clutching Jungkook's cock. He's cursing behind you, and you can feel you squeezing him. He slaps his hips mercilessly, his balls slamming against your ass, and the sinful slaps drive you crazy. Jungkook pulls out abruptly and he comes. His cum spills all over the floor and his hands.

You turn around and see him cumming. He looks over at you when he stops spewing his cum.

You are both breathing heavily. Jungkook pulls on his boxers and pants, which he has slightly polluted. You put on your thong and pants and are afraid to look up at him. Jungkook looks at you and a confident smile spreads across his face. You pretend to fix your clothes.

"You have wipes? We're did a little a mess here." - He says and you hear a smile in his voice. You reach for the bag, but your hands are shaking. The warmth of his touch is still pulsating on your skin, and your breathing seems heavier than it should be.

Jungkook seems to sense your state, so he takes his time. He watches you take out the napkins, how you avoid his gaze, and smiles smugly.

"Are you always this quiet afterwards?" - His voice drops to an almost purring tone.

You start to get angry again, but instead of answering, you just toss him the package of napkins. He catches it with one hand and runs the other through his hair, causing the dark strands to become even more disheveled.

"Are you always this obnoxious afterwards?" - You snap back, finally looking up at him. He wipes his hands and the remaining cum on the floor. He stands up. Jungkook tilts his head to the side as if he's considering your question.

"I don't know." - He slowly moves closer, making you take a step back. "But I know I want to do it again." - Your heart jumps into your throat.

"There's not going to be another time." - You say sharply, straighten your clothes, and pretend nothing happened. Even though you want there to be another time. Jungkook laughs again. Deep, low, and this sound makes you even more confused.

"Why not? You liked it." - He states. You clench your jaws and look at him with a challenge.

"Don't you have anyone else to have fun with?" - You ask. He takes another step, and now there are barely a few centimeters between you. His eyes are dark, attentive, and something dangerous is burning in them.

"No. It's just you now." - He says. Your breath catches in your throat. He kisses you and you don't resist. What could that mean? Is this an invitation to fuck without obligation? But he's so annoying when he doesn't fuck you, how do you deal with it? He pulls away from your lips.

"Just don't tell anyone. This will be our secret. You don't want your brother to kill me, do you?" - Jungkook asks, he strokes your cheekbones. You laugh slyly.

"Half an hour ago, I was dreaming about it." - You admit honestly.

Jungkook smiles, and you see something triumphant in his eyes. You hate it - how he always wins your verbal battles, how he always knows which buttons to push to get you off balance.

But you hate it even more the way your heart jumps out of your chest at his proximity.

"So now you don't dream of my death anymore?" - He touches a strand of your hair as if it were something familiar, as if he had a right to do so. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to maintain control. His fingers slowly slide from your hair to your chin, and he lifts it slightly, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "Don't worry, baby. I'll have time to make you dream of other things." - He says this with such confidence that your skin crawls with goosebumps. You pretend not to feel it.

"We'll see." - You snap back. Jungkook lets you go. He takes a step back and then pulls your phone out of his pocket.

"I forgot to tell you that I found your phone earlier." - He smiles, and you are frozen with shock. So he set this up? You blink, not fully believing his words.

"You... you found it earlier?" - Your voice trembles a little with anger.

"Yeah." - Jungkook throws the phone to you, and you automatically catch it. "I wanted to see what you'd do when you went back to look for him."

You squeeze the phone in your hand, feeling indignation boiling inside.

"You asshole!" - You punch him in the shoulder, but he doesn't even move, just smiles smugly.

"Maybe a little. But we've had fun, right?" - He takes his phone out of his pocket now. "Let's get out of here."

[about-faces]

Saw a post from a Nightwing fan that was like “oh my god there’s someone out there who seriously would like to see Two-Face in the BatFam, WTF?! After what he did to Dick?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

….

…

… Anyway, here’s why I think Harvey Dent should be in the BatFam.

For starters, I think it would be a wonderful way to incorporate Bruce’s long-standing love for Harvey in a situation where he gets to interact with a variety of young people who either have personal beefs with Harvey and/or have little sympathy/reason to care about him. We’ve already seen the potential of Harvey and Jason interacting and how fantastic that was for both characters.

I want to see Harvey (specifically a Harvey whose good side gets to be present and distinct, if not in complete control for the time being) interact with Dick, who hates him and—like some of his fans—completely disregards Harvey’s history of mental illness and internal struggles to overcome Scarvey. Extra points if they incorporate the Robin: Year One origin with Dick being beaten by Two-Face (which is not currently canon, btw), something that Harvey would never have done if he was in his right mind or even in control at the time. He was subsumed by his worst side to the point that Two-Face outright genuinely considered Harvey “dead,” but Dick neither knows nor cares about that, and I’d like to see that explored outside of a typical hero/villain environment.

I want to see Harvey interact with Damian and Cass, who each might have his own opinions about Bruce’s ongoing belief in someone’s inherent goodness, heroism, and worth, no matter how much blood is on one’s hands or how they were raised.

I want to see Cass and Steph both reckon with Harvey’s own history of abuse at a father’s hands, and how one tries to struggle against the cycles of violence. Is Harvey a victim of how he was raised, or is he a monster for not overcoming his trauma like they did? I want know if the compassion Cass extended to Clayface could also apply to Harvey. I want to know if either woman would have any empathy for Harvey, or condemn him as being reprehensible and irredeemable.

I want Babs to have a backstory where she, as a kid, knew and liked Harvey, and the two bonded over having alcoholic fathers, something which no one can understand if they haven’t experienced it.

I want to see if Duke has any feelings about a once-good man who was transformed into something he does not want to be, much in the way his own parents were victims of Gotham’s monsters.

I want Tim to better understand Harvey’s psyche, to see if he still thinks that Harvey is someone who “chooses” to become Two-Face again after every redemption attempt.

I want more interactions between Harvey and Jason, acknowledging them as twin symbols of Bruce’s failure who both became murderous mob bosses. How many orphans has Jason created? Why is Jason welcomed back in but not Harvey? Is it because Harvey nearly beat a Robin to death, just like Damian did with Tim? Is it okay to excuse/forgive a brainwashed child but not a severely mentally ill adult who had no control over his worst side? Why or why not?

I want to know which BatFam members would even notice all the ways that Bruce and Harvey are so similar, mirrors to each other with Harvey being the one who lost everything, including his own identity and sanity. I want to know what their takeaways would be, or if they’d even care. I want to know if any of them would realize that Bruce could easily fall like Harvey without the love and support they provide as a family, which Harvey lacks?

Remember A Lonely Place of Dying? Harvey without Gilda and Batman without Robin, both evenly matched in a mutually-suicidal death spiral, broken only when Tim emerged in Bruce’s life? Would Tim draw those parallels? Would any of them? Would it even matter?

Because not all of the BatFam can or should have empathy for Harvey. No family, not even the BatFam, should end every disagreement with Full-House-style hugs and apologies. Sometimes you just hate or don’t even care about other family members, and that’s fine! But I still want to see those relationships explored and hashed out within the context of family.

On top of it all, I want some acknowledgement that Harvey was Bruce’s first and only ally back in Batman: Year One before Gordon came around to Bruce’s side. That Harvey was the ONLY person in Gotham trying to fight against the forces of the mob and cops alike before Bruce returned and Jim rolled into town. That he, as Batman’s ally and the youngest DA in Gotham history, was the original Boy Wonder of Gotham City. That Bruce’s failure to save Harvey has hung over each and every one of his relationships and connections in the BatFam.

Finally, I want to see Harvey in the BatFam because I want to know that, no matter what you’ve done or become, there will still be some people out there who are holding out for you to come back. That you may not be forgiven by all or even most of them, but you’re still worthy of love. And even if/when Harvey loses his battle with himself again, I want some of the BatFam to react with sympathy, some having changed their perceptions about the man they only knew as Two-Face. That maybe, occasionally, the criminals they fight aren’t monsters but just broken people, lost to some combination of circumstance, upbringing, mental illness, and personal choices. I want to see them reckon with that. I think that would be important.

And okay yeah sure I’d also like to see Harvey take them all out for pizza and games at Chuck E Cheese’s or something like that. I just think that’d be neat.

Anyway. I hope that all makes more sense now for anyone still wondering. I’ll finish up with proof that Harvey being in the BatFam has actually been touched on in comics, from the gatefold cover of Hush (that’s Harvey, not Hush, with the bandages), DC Future State, and DC Bombsells.

So there’s a fuzzy sort of precedent for Harvey fitting in with the BatFam. I just hope someone at DC will eventually share my vision, even if some BatFam fans never will.

[hazydoe]

Farmer's Daughter

Warning +18 only age-gap,Explicit sexual relations, explicit language,dynamic power

Note:English is not my first language so I apologize in advance if I make any spelling or grammatical mistakes. Many thanks to everyone who read the first chapter of Redemption

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. Joel looked toward the farmhouse in the distance. The place seemed peaceful, surrounded by fields of wheat swaying gently in the wind. He took a deep breath and moved forward, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d made this kind of delivery, but he never felt comfortable in such open spaces, so far from the noise of the city.

As he approached the main house, a figure appeared on the porch. It was a young woman, no older than twenty, with messy brown hair and hands busy with a large basket of strawberries. She wore a worn-out overall and boots. Her alert eyes locked onto Joel with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice firm but slightly trembling.

“I’m Joel,” he replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I have a delivery for your father. He said he’d be here today.”

The young woman frowned and looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

“My father isn’t here. He had to go to the nearest town for supplies. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Joel nodded slowly, assessing the situation. He didn’t like leaving the delivery with someone other than the intended recipient, but he couldn’t afford to come back another day. He had other matters to attend to, and the trip to the farm had been long.

“I understand,” he said finally. “Can you handle it? It’s important.”

She hesitated for a moment but then nodded with determination.

“Yes, I can. Come in.”

Joel followed her inside the house. The place was modest but cozy, with rustic wooden furniture and open windows. On a nearby table, there was a disassembled rifle, and Joel noticed the young woman casting nervous glances at him. He didn’t blame her. In such an isolated place, distrust was understandable.

“What’s your name?” Joel asked as he set his bag down on the floor.

“Lena,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t worry, I know how to handle these things. My father has taught me everything I need to know.”

Joel gave a half-smile. There was something about Lena that reminded him of Sarah, his daughter. That mix of innocence and determination that only young people who had grown up in tough environments could have.

“Good,” he said, opening the bag and pulling out a box of tools. “Here you go. Tools and some spare parts for the tractor. Your father and I agreed on an exchange.”

Lena nodded and took the box, placing it carefully on the table. Then she walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a cloth bag.

“Here’s what you agreed on,” she said, handing it to Joel. “Some money and a few preserves we made this summer. I hope it’s enough.”

Joel quickly checked the contents and nodded.

“It’s just what we need. Thanks.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as they looked at each other with curiosity, each assessing the other. Joel noticed Lena’s beauty, her body covered by the fabric of her jeans. Lena noticed Joel’s strong arms, his dark hair, and the marks of age on his face. Finally, Lena broke the ice.

“Are you a mechanic?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Something like that,” Joel replied, shrugging.

She nodded, as if she understood perfectly.

“I think I’d better go,” Joel said, looking intently at the young girl.

Joel walked down the path leading back to his truck, but something stopped him. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about Lena that made him stay, something that drew him in beyond the simple transaction. Maybe it was her eyes and the way they looked at him with curiosity and maybe even desire.

Lena was still on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with one leg resting on the railing, watching him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him. Joel slowly approached, feeling the air between them charged with a tension he couldn’t ignore.

“Do you need something else?” Lena asked, her voice soft but firm.

Joel stopped a few steps away from her, looking directly into her eyes.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Maybe I just need a moment.”

Lena studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether to trust him. Then, with a calm movement, she stepped down from the porch and walked toward him. Joel could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of earth and fresh grass that surrounded her.

“My father won’t be back until tomorrow,” Lena said, her voice now barely a whisper.

Joel felt a shiver run down his spine. He wasn’t a man who let his emotions take over easily, but there was something about Lena that made him lose control. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between them and took her by the waist, feeling her tense for a moment before relaxing in his arms.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Joel murmured, though his actions said otherwise.

“Maybe not,” Lena replied, bringing her face closer to his. “But it is.”

Their lips met in a slow but passionate kiss, filled with a need neither of them had admitted until that moment. Joel felt the world around him fade away, leaving only Lena and the warmth radiating from her. His hands explored her back, feeling the tension in her muscles, as she pulled him closer, as if she couldn’t stand the distance between them.

“Joel,” Lena murmured between kisses, her voice trembling but full of desire.

He didn’t respond with words but with actions. He lifted her effortlessly, feeling her wrap around him, and carried her back inside the house. The door closed behind them, and Joel pressed her against the wall, never breaking the contact between their lips. Lena held him tightly, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.

“This is crazy,” Joel said, though his hands were already unbuttoning Lena’s overalls.

“Don’t worry, I’ve always hoped someone attractive would pass by here,” she replied, sliding her hands under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back.

Joel couldn’t resist. The need he had been suppressing for years surfaced, and he let Lena guide him to her room, a small space with a bed covered in white sheets. He gently laid her down on the bed, looking at her with an intensity that made Lena hold her breath. His hands explored every inch of her body, feeling her respond to every touch, every caress.

“Joel,” Lena whispered, arching toward him. “Don’t stop.”

He had no intention of doing so. With slow but deliberate movements, Joel undressed her, revealing the soft, warm skin hidden beneath the layers of clothing. Lena looked at him with eyes full of desire, and Joel felt his own body respond to the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re too beautiful,” Joel murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along her neck and shoulders.

Lena held him tightly, feeling the world around her fade away, leaving only Joel and the warmth radiating from him. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt natural, as if they were destined to meet in that moment.

“Joel,” Lena moaned, burying her hands in his hair. “Don’t leave.”

He didn’t respond with words but with actions. He removed the only piece of clothing she wore under her overalls—a pair of white panties. Joel took a condom from his wallet, creating a small, painful distance between them to put it on his large member. Lena looked down to see it, a small smile of amazement on her face.

“It’s too big for me, Joel,” she said as she kissed him uncontrollably. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” he said, positioning himself at her entrance.

He thrust in for the first time, bracing himself against the headboard of the bed. Both were a mess, moaning after the first thrust.

He pulled out completely, catching Lena off guard, and then thrust back in with a strong, painful motion. Lena began to tear up.

Joel pulled away for a moment to give her a break and stimulate her breasts. They were the perfect size, fitting perfectly in his hand. He took one roughly and lazily licked her nipple, looking up at her to see her reaction. She only moaned in response to the pleasure. He lowered his arm and grabbed his member, massaging it against her leg as he realized that, due to their height difference, he couldn’t reach her sweet spot.

Joel realized what she wanted and stopped licking and biting her breasts, leaving them red and marked by him. He helped fulfill her desire by rubbing his member against her clit.

“I knew it from the moment I saw you,” Joel said as he thrust hard into her. “Knew what?” Lena asked, arching like a cat in pleasure. “That you were too needy for cock. Did you think I didn’t notice how innocent you were pretending to be? Daddy’s little girl, what would he think if he found out you slept with an older man?”

“He’d probably be mad because from now on, I won’t be able to be without you.”

Joel continued to move firmly, feeling Lena adjust perfectly to him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, leaving marks on her skin. Lena moaned with each thrust, her nails digging into Joel’s back, drawing red lines he barely felt in his ecstasy.

“What else do you want, Lena?” Joel asked in a hoarse voice, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell me.”

Lena could barely form words, but her eyes begged for more. Joel smiled, satisfied, and changed the angle of his movements, searching for that spot that would make her scream. When he found it, Lena arched her back, a muffled cry escaping her lips.

“Joel!” she screamed, her hands clutching him as if he were her only anchor in a sea of pleasure.

Joel didn’t slow down, feeling his own climax approaching. His hands moved to Lena’s breasts, massaging them firmly, feeling her nipples harden under his fingers. Lena moaned, her body trembling beneath his, each of Joel’s movements bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Baby, you’re going to come,” Joel murmured, his words a hot whisper against Lena’s skin. “Let it go.”

And she did. With a muffled cry, Lena let herself be carried away by the wave of pleasure, her body convulsing beneath Joel’s. He held her, feeling his own orgasm hit, filling her with each final thrust.

When they finally stopped, both panting, Joel collapsed beside Lena, pulling her to rest against his chest. Lena curled up against him, her breathing still uneven.

“That was...” Lena began, but Joel interrupted her with a soft kiss.

“You don’t need to say it,” Joel said, stroking her hair. “I know.”

Lena smiled, closing her eyes as she relaxed against him. Joel held her, feeling a strange sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe this wouldn’t change anything, but for a moment, it had been perfect.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

This letter is written in memory of Aria, a trans woman who sadly passed away, and in solidarity with her friends and her siblings who are missing her dearly. 

I did not have the honor to meet Aria in person. I do not know her favorite color or what kind of music she liked most - but even if I did, a list with facts can’t summarize a life. No blog post could properly reflect who she was or the depth of the gap her death leaves in the lives of her loved ones and in our community. 

I do not want to tell you „here’s what she would’ve wanted me to tell you“ because I do not know that. What I do know is just that she should still be here. 

I’m thinking about the premise of this blog, that we are - sort of -  family without knowing each other. That I love you, like a family member, even if I never met you. That you are never truly alone because you have all these siblings all over the world, all these people who understand what you feel, who share your experiences, who are willing to fight for you. It’s a silly little writing gimmick for a positivity blog - but it’s also what I truly believe. It’s what our community does for each other. It’s what we have always done for each other. 

We love each other. And we grieve together because a loss like this is never just personal - it ripples through all of us. We should not have to mourn so many of our siblings. We just should not have to. 

So today, in Aria’s memory, I want to remind you of that. Of the love that exists in our community, even when we’ve never met. Of the way we hold each other up, even when the world tries to push us down. Let us keep Aria in our thoughts, and also let me remind you that you are loved, that you belong here, that the world is better with you in it.

We will keep showing up for each other. We will keep remembering those we’ve lost and keep fighting like hell for the living. And we will keep loving each other fiercely. Because that is what makes us family.

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[scary-grace]

pretty please will you write [bouquet] but reader gives flowers to tomura <33333

Thank you for the prompt! This got angsty and I apologize. Hopefully I can redeem myself with the third prompt! Post-canon, 2.1k, angst.

memory garden

The bouquet you buy gets bigger every year.

You’re in the interminable line at the florist’s, you and a bunch of guys in business suits and wedding rings, identical guilty looks on their faces, and somehow your bouquet is the biggest one. Not for the first time since you picked it up, you wonder if you’ve overdone it. White roses. Red roses – deep red, not bright red. Periwinkle-blue buddleia, ferns, baby’s breath, and ivy. It’s a lot of flowers. A lot of money. And it’s not like the person they’re for is going to appreciate them.

But it’s one day a year. One bouquet, and it’s the only bouquet he’s going to get. You kiss your pastry budget goodbye for the next week and wait for your turn at the checkout counter, feeling like shit for even thinking of buying something smaller. So what if you’ve got the biggest bouquet in line? It’s worth it. You don’t need anybody else to understand, which is a good thing. You barely understand the impulse yourself.

The last few Valentine’s Days, it’s been bright and cold and sunny, a picturesque winter day. Today it’s raining, and you check the forecast on the train with increasing dismay. It’s going to be a swamp by the time you get there, and you’ll be going home cold and wet and muddy. You’re already tired. It was an awful week at work, but when isn’t it, really? You work in Homicide, and in spite of society’s supposed great leaps forward since the war ended, people are still in the business of killing each other. If you didn’t have your quirk, you’d work anywhere else.

But you do have your quirk – Red Cap, which gives you a heads-up and flashback every time you walk over a spot where someone died a violent death. Working Homicide really is the only job you’re good for, although in the aftermath of the war, you were embedded with the national coroner’s office, walking the battlefields to identify victims, perpetrators, and causes of death. It’s not what you want to do with your life, but it pays. Enough that you could probably stand to get more than one bouquet, one day a year. But there’s only one day of the year where you can buy a bunch of flowers without anybody asking why.

As you’re putting your phone away, one of your friends texts you about a last-minute blind date – some friend of her boyfriend’s whose date fell through, who’s going to be a total wet blanket and ruin their night if nobody distracts him. Will you go on a pity date with him? You’re not his type and he’s not yours, but all you have to do is keep him busy for a little while. With an offer like that, how can you refuse? You text back one-handed. Sorry. I have plans.

doing what?? I know you’re single

I have plans, you type again. Even if your plan was to get plastered and forget about tomorrow, you’re not going to go on a date where you’re so obviously the consolation prize. And you wouldn’t be that much of a prize, either – once people hear about your job, and your quirk, they’re usually not interested. Sorry. I hope you can work something out!

The exclamation point feels forced. You tuck your phone away and stare out the window at the rain, the bunch of flowers rustling in your shaky hands.

The view out the window reminds you just how much Japan has changed. It’s been almost eight years since the war, and everywhere that matters to anybody has been rebuilt, bigger and better than before. Every city’s skyline bristles with skyscrapers, every highway has wider lanes – and in between are places that aren’t important enough to merit a rebuild, places that have been patched back together haphazardly or been allowed to fall into disrepair. Bigger cities, empty villages. More pretty city parks, fewer nature reserves. And every so often you’ll look out the window and see a dark shadow across the landscape, a scar that will never heal. Or so they say. People say time heals everything, and sometimes, you almost believe them.

Once you reach your destination, you’ve still got a ways to go. This part is uncomfortable. It always is, not because the terrain once you’re off the main road is rough, but because everywhere you step is a place someone breathed their last. This is the final battlefield from the Villain War. You’d say the number of deaths that occurred here is countless, except you have counted. That’s how you know where to go.

The rain soaks through your clothes as you pick your way across the barren, muddy field. At one edge of it there’s a shrine to all the heroes who fell, not just here but in the entire war, and on important days, there are people queuing up to leave offerings and pay their respects. You keep walking, hating the way your feet squelch in the mud. The longer you stay in touch with a particular piece of earth, the more information you pick up about the death that occurred there, and you saw enough the first time.

The death site you’re looking for is at the far edge of the field, pushed up into the shadow of the mountain that rears up nearby. It’s unmarked, of course. It would be unattended even if it wasn’t. No one mourns the wicked, after all, and Shigaraki Tomura, the Symbol of Fear, was as wicked as they come. Or so they say.

When you found his death site, what you witnessed through your quirk brought you to your knees. That’s not how it usually goes for you, how it usually went by that point. Almost every person who dies is scared while it happens. A lot of them are confused. A lot of them are angry or hurt or betrayed. But none of them are all of those things at once, and empty and lost and hollow at the same time, and while you’ve walked over many death sites, Shigaraki’s is the only one that’s ever taken you down. And when you got back up, you couldn’t see him as the monster he was any longer.

You thought reading the book the surviving members of the League of Villains wrote would help clear your head, or at least remind you who you were really losing sleep over. When that didn’t work, you went to visit the book’s author in prison. Spinner wanted to talk about Shigaraki, his best friend and his only friend, but nothing he said matched what you saw. Deku, who killed Shigaraki, never talks about him at all, and you can’t explain to anyone that you’re haunted by the last moments of a villain who was horrifying and tragic in almost equal measures. So you had to find something else to do.

You reach the far side of the field and come to a stop. You moved a rock a few years ago to mark the death site, so you wouldn’t have to step on it and retraumatize yourself every year, and you stop a meter or so back from where you know the edge lies. And then, like always, you hit a wall. You could keep doing this for the rest of your life, and you’ll still never know the right thing to say as you set down the bouquet. The last few years, you’ve just set it down and left.

But that thought’s in your head again – one bouquet, one day of the year. He doesn’t have a shrine or a grave marker, and you’re the only one who knows exactly where he died. If you only got one visitor every year, you’d want them to say something. Anything.

Anything, from you, is usually a bad idea. “I’m still working at Homicide. The murder rate hasn’t dropped back to pre-war levels yet. I go walking over two or three crime scenes a week, and none of them have ever been as awful as what I felt when I walked over yours.”

So what, you can imagine him saying. You get to walk away. This was my whole life, and I died as I lived. Do you expect me to feel sorry for you or something? “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. That’s not why I’m saying that. I just – I wanted you to know that it really was that bad. All the pain you felt, all that anger – it’s unbearable. I can see why you’d do anything to get away.”

You wouldn’t do what Shigaraki did, you don’t think. Then again, you don’t have that kind of power. The only person you can torment with your quirk is yourself. “I don’t know why I come out here. Or why I bring flowers. You probably hated flowers,” you say. You can imagine his response to that, too: Yeah, no shit. “I never met you, but I can’t unsee what I saw. I wish I’d never seen it.”

You feel that way about everything you’ve seen and felt through your quirk, but this especially. “I wish I’d never seen it, but I did see it. And it would be wrong to look away.”

That was something you remember from that first flashback, the one that laid you out in the filth on the battlefield. The way the emptiness inside him yawned wide, a gaping void no amount of rage and destruction could fill, a desperate howl that still echoes through your mind –  look at me, notice me, save me – a cry for help that went forever unanswered. It’s too late for Shigaraki Tomura. Whatever you could possibly do rings hollow, and he’ll never see it, anyway. The longer you think about it, the more miserable you get. You need to go, before you spend another Valentine’s Day crying on the train home.

But to leave the bouquet by your makeshift marker, you have to cross the death site. As you hesitate, you hear that voice in your head, cobbled together from every newscast of the destruction of Jaku City or the final battle that took place here: This was my whole life. You get to walk away. You steep yourself and cross onto the death site, and like always, it hits you like a knockout punch. All you can do is stagger to the marker, set the bouquet in its mason jar down at the foot of the stone, and stagger back out, your eyes burning, struggling to breathe.

You’re doubled over, gasping for air, when you hear the voice. “I didn’t think you’d come this year.”

Your stomach lurches. You stagger backwards, foot-first into another deathsite, and struggle to get your balance, searching for a safe place to stand. “Because of the rain,” the voice continues, raspy and rough. His voice. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

You’ve always thought your quirk might snap your mind someday. You just didn’t expect it to happen like this. If you’re already crazy, you might as well answer him. “Until I stop seeing it.”

“Forever.”

It’s been eight years. Nothing else has clung to you like this. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Forever,” the voice repeats. “I never stopped seeing it, either.”

You’re talking to a dead person. A ghost. You’ve walked over hundreds of death sites, and you’ve never met a ghost before. But if anybody was going to become a ghost, it would be him, wouldn’t it? Unhappy, unable to let go, unmissed and unmourned by anyone but you, and you can barely be called a mourner when the most you do is show up with flowers one day a year. He probably hates flowers, and hates you, like he hated everything before. “I’m sorry,” you say. Shigaraki Tomura’s ghost makes a questioning sound. “I’m sorry no one saved you. I wish it wasn’t too late.”

You turn and leave without another look at the death site, and Shigaraki Tomura’s voice follows you. “Maybe it’s not.”

You’re losing it. You really must be. As soon as you get home, you’re taking a leave of absence from your horrible job and going to therapy, so you can learn how to live with your quirk and not let it cling to you and leave a bouquet at a supervillain’s death site without having a psychotic break. Maybe it’s not too late. What does that mean? It means you’re going crazy. That’s all this was. You walk stiff-legged across the battlefield, sicker with every step, never looking back. If you see his ghost hovering over the death site, you’re going to lose your mind for good.

Curiosity gets the better of you, though. You look back just once, once there are no more death sites to walk over and the only memories in your head belong to you. Shigaraki’s death site is easy to miss if you don’t know what to look for, but you know what to look for – and even from this distance, you can see that the bouquet you left for him is gone.

[skullypettibone]

Omg PLEASE tell me more about Bellara/Illario!! 🤩

YESSSS BELLARIO MY BELOVED. ok so this post here is what sold me on them. I just love the idea of Bellara needs help writing her romance novels and who better to turn to than the Romance Expert (self proclaimed) as a consultant. she's like "hey Illario does this line sound cheesy or is it working?" and he looks in her eyes and reads it aloud in That Voice and oh yeah that's good 😳for the book I mean. and obviously Illario is preening like a silly tropical bird under all the attention

Also once serious feelings are involved I think Bellara would scare the shit out of Illario. He's craved validation and to be the one chosen first all his life. Now this lil ray of sunshine is being so sweet and kind to him and the worst part is she sucks ass at lying so oh nooo he knows she actually means it. I think Illario would lose his mind a little and want to eat her.

As for Bellara, I like the idea of her having a partner that doesn't infantilize her. Something Illario can definitely understand as he's always been treated as less competent than he actually is. People don't notice bc she's cute but lol Bellara's lowkey pretty morally grey. Picture she's rambling to Illario about something she wants to build if onlyyyy she had this one super rare part that's locked up in some Orlesian vault :(. Couple days later Illario says here you go don't ask how I got this. and Bellara would just be like okay❤️ yay❤️ He would hear out her vision for laser turrets on the Lighthouse

They're one of those ships that I think you can take a lot of different directions! it ends tragically or they make it work and are really good for each other

[fadelbison]

why u like fadelstyle so much? the show ended and i still don't feel like theres love between them, same with all jd couples they don't seem like a couple at all

oh man how to answer this in a way that will do fadelstyle justice? I think @secriden and @bentnotbroken1fanfiction have much better, very in depth analysis of them as a pair and their wonderful dynamic.

but for me personally? simply, it's a type of love that I'm looking for. my personality is very similar to fadel's, the way style always goes out of his way to understand him and push back against all of fadels attempts to push him away - it really warms my heart.

they see each other, do you understand? style guesses that fadel could be a hitman, even if it was just a joke - style always saw him for who fadel is and fadel has been in wanting for that devotion, fadel has been aching to just be held and be able to fall apart - when fadel goes to prison style keeps his dream alive. fadel finally found someone who can understand how much he's had to give, how much he's always had to put himself second, someone who appreciates fully when fadel does it for him - I think style is the only person who's ever even attempted to feel the extent of fadel's sacrifice let alone tell him that he's deserving of the same and then go out and do it.

joongdunk have so subliminally portrayed that growing trust between them, that lived through all of fadel's anger at being betrayed, all of style's fear of fadel's dangerous life. they've just done so well to show what it means to slowly make space for each other, to fall in love through a gradual understanding of each other, I really felt that no matter what happened between them no matter how angry they were or how much distance there was between them every episode fadel and style loved each other more than the last.

fadel and style's romance is one of my favorite couple dynamics period I'm sorry you didn't feel it and even though we are allowed to interpret shows differently and like different things its a pity that I have no way to make you experience the beauty with which they touched my heart.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh. 

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I’ve seen your post on how to compromise in romantic relationships, do you have one on how to compromise in platonic and familial relationships?

Writing Notes: Compromise

in Platonic & Familial Relationships

People with a compromising conflict style often try to resolve conflict by proposing seemingly equal compromises, such as meeting in the middle between two extreme positions or making a significant compromise just to move forward. Although a compromising conflict style can move a conversation forward, the solution may not address root issues, making this style unstable over time.

Compromise is essential in any relationship, particularly during conflict. Each partner must consider giving something up of similar value so that they meet somewhere in the middle (Grieger, 2015).

Encourage bouncing ideas off each other until both parties find a win for both of them. Capture the following:

What is the disagreement about?

What does a win for each person look like?

Brainstorm ideas that could lead to mutual satisfaction.

Often, resolutions to conflict and disagreement feel like a win to both parties; this is a win–win situation. The goal should be for mutual satisfaction.

The more individuals have a relational focus (i.e., a greater use of “we”) while narrating their experiences of compromise with family, the better psychological health they will experience (Lin et al., 2014)

The Conflict Management Styles

Include accommodating, avoiding, collaborating, competing and compromising.

People tend to have a dominant style.

The Thomas Kilmann conflict mode instrument, or TKI, is frequently used in conflict resolution training and identifies 5 distinct modes that people use to handle conflict (Thomas & Kilman).

Understanding your conflict handling style may help you handle future conflicts more effectively.

Compromising - usually indicates the person who is compromising is at the mid-point on the assertiveness scale and the mid-point on the cooperativeness scale.

That means that the compromiser tries to find middle-ground by taking care of his/her needs as well as the needs of others.

The compromiser does try to cooperate but not at his/her personal expense.

The compromising style shows a moderate concern for self and others.

Even though you may often hear that the best way to handle a conflict is to compromise, the compromising style is not a win/win solution but a partial win/lose.

When you compromise, you give up some or most of what you want.

The conflict gets resolved temporarily, but lingering thoughts of what you gave up could lead to a future conflict.

Compromising may be a good strategy when time limitations or conflict prolonging may lead to relationship deterioration.

Compromise may also be good when both parties have equal power or other resolution strategies have not worked (Macintosh & Stevens, 2008).

Compromising may help conflicting parties come to a resolution, but neither may be completely satisfied if they each had to give something up.

Compromising Style: This style aims to find an expedient, mutually acceptable solution that partially satisfies both parties in the conflict while maintaining some assertiveness and cooperativeness. “This style is best to use when the outcome is not crucial and you are losing time; for example, when you want to just make a decision and move on to more important things and are willing to give a little to get the decision made,” Dr. Barbara Benoliel, a certified professional mediator and mitigation specialist, says. “However,” she adds, “be aware that no one is really satisfied.”

People often get accommodating and compromising confused.

Accommodating means sacrificing your needs/wants/desires for what the other wants without them giving anything in return.

When you compromise, both parties give something and gain something.

A negative of compromising is that it may be used as an easy way out of a conflict.

The compromising style is most effective when both parties find the solution reasonably agreeable.

Example: Rosa and D’Shaun could decide that Casey’s allowance does need to be increased and could each give her $10.00 more a week by committing to taking their lunch to work twice a week instead of eating out. They are giving up something, and if neither has a problem taking their lunch to work, the compromise is equitable. If the couple agrees that the 20 extra dollars a week should come out of D’Shaun’s golf budget, the compromise is not as equitable, and D’Shaun, although he agreed to the compromise, may end up with feelings of resentment. Dialogue may assist this couple to find a win-win outcome.

In the Workplace. Compromising is a conflict resolution strategy in which you and the other party willingly forfeit some of your needs to reach an agreement.

It’s known as a “lose-lose” strategy, since neither of you achieve your full goal.

This strategy works well when your care for your goal and the relationship are both moderate. You value the relationship, but not so much that you abandon your goal, like in accommodation.

Example: Maybe you and a peer express interest in leading an upcoming project. You could compromise by co-leading it or deciding one of you leads this one and the other the next one.

Compromising requires big-picture thinking and swallowing your pride, knowing you won’t get all your needs fulfilled.

The benefits are that you and the other party value your relationship and make sacrifices to reach a mutually beneficial resolution.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps with your writing!

[aila0veyou]

I’ve been rewatching Death Note lately, and since I’ll be spending another Valentine’s Day alone, I figured why not write something to make myself feel better<3

LOVE NOTE

tw: female reader, oc introduction, dark content, depressing thoughts, cheating, heartbreak, obsessive behavior, stalking, non-consensual touching, pseudocest, older man/younger woman (not underage), bad writing. This fic is inspired by the deadly notebook from the 2006 anime Death Note, but the rest of the story is purely a work of my imagination. Please proceed with caution.

The entire school was drenched in red and pink. Paper hearts lined the walls, roses sat in vases along the hallways, and every step you took seemed to land in a world overflowing with love. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Couples leaned into each other, exchanging whispered affections, while hopeful romantics nervously confessed their feelings, eager to claim a valentine before the big day arrived. Love was in the air...sweet, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore.

Just a cruel reminder of something you could never have.

Love had always felt foreign to you, like a language everyone else spoke fluently while you struggled to understand even the basics. Call it dramatic, but no one had ever truly loved you. Every crush you’d ever had led to nothing, fading into disappointment before it could become something real. The ones who did show interest? They were never serious. Some were toxic, some were just rebounding, and some only saw you as a temporary distraction. None of them truly wanted you. Not in the way that mattered.

You had never been in a real relationship. Never been loved.

You envied your friends...if they even deserved to be called that. Your classmates, too, jumping in and out of relationships like it was the easiest thing in the world. They’d sit around, giggling and blushing as they gushed about their love lives, from romantic dates to thoughtful gifts, and even the intimate things they did behind closed doors.

You never had much to add to those conversations. So you just listened. Like you always did.

They never once thought to set you up with someone...not that you expected them to. In their eyes, you were the "inexperienced" one, the girl who prioritized academics and self-love over romance. Too busy. Too serious. As if love was something you had no interest in.

You moved through the rest of the day with a blank expression, forcing yourself to focus on your classes while trying to ignore the suffocating atmosphere of love in the air. Lunch was no different. You sat with your group, quietly picking at your food while they excitedly discussed their plans for the big day. Valentine’s. And, of course, the Dancing Hearts competition, the school’s grand event that everyone was required to attend.

They always acted so shocked when a few of you (including you, obviously) still hadn’t secured a date for the dance. As if it were some great tragedy. As if you hadn’t been alone every other year.

The rest of the day passed in a dull blur with just you, mindlessly scribbling down notes, barely registering the lesson as the familiar weight of loneliness pressed against your chest.

When the final bell rang, the halls filled with nervous excitement. All across the school grounds, students made grand, dramatic confessions to their crushes, love-struck and breathless. Meanwhile, others (yourself included) were stuck staying late, forced to help decorate the gym under the watchful eyes of teachers who had been assigned to supervise.

By the time the teachers finally dismissed everyone, the gym was only half-finished, decorations still scattered and incomplete. Not that it mattered to you. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could go home.

You had already texted your dad to pick you up, and now you stood outside the school gates, waiting. The cold night air nipped at your skin, and you instinctively hugged yourself, shifting on your feet. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of passing vehicles. Most students had already left, except for a few lingering groups chatting under the streetlights, their muffled laughter carrying through the air.

You barely paid them any mind. Your gaze was drawn upward instead.

The sky stretched wide above you, a vast canvas of deep blues and blacks, with only a few stars managing to peek through the drifting clouds. The moon hung pale and distant, its soft glow casting a faint silver light over the region.

It was beautiful.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in it, admiring how peaceful everything seemed... Until something slammed into your face with a light thud!

You let out a sharp gasp, stumbling back as a stinging sensation bloomed across your cheek. Whatever had hit you landed at your feet with a dull thump.

You blinked, startled.

It's a notebook... A black notebook?

Frowning, you rubbed your cheek and looked around. But the street was empty, and there were no open windows or rooftops where it could have fallen from.

Your heart thudded strangely as you slowly bent down, fingers brushing over the smooth, cool cover. The title was embossed in bold, elegant print:

LOVE NOTE.

A strange chill ran down your spine.

Somewhere in the distance, a streetlight flickered. And for the first time that night, you felt like someone was watching you.

You flipped through its pages, finding them completely blank. But when you turned the notebook over, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of neatly written text on the back cover, a list of rules on how to use the… Love Note?

• To activate the Love Note, the writer must think about the target's face while writing their full name. Without these conditions, the effect will not take place.

• The writer must specify who the target will fall in love with.

• Once written, the target will develop uncontrollable feelings toward the chosen person within 24 hours. These feelings will manifest as love, obsession, lust, or devotion, depending on the writer’s intent.

• The effects of the Love Note are irreversible unless the writer destroys the page before 24 hours have passed.

• If a name is written twice with a new love interest, the previous bond will be severed violently, often leading to heartbreak, resentment, or madness.

• The Love Note cannot force genuine love. Only attachment, obsession, or lust. If the target already has strong romantic feelings for another, their emotions will distort, turning into possessiveness or desperation.

• If the chosen person rejects the target too many times, the target’s emotions may turn dangerous, resulting in self-destruction, violence, or obsession.

• The Love Note only works on humans. It has no effect on objects, animals, or any supernatural beings.

• If the owner of the Love Note dies, the effects on all targets will remain permanent.

Your brows furrowed as you read through each rule, skepticism creeping in. Was this some kind of prank? A joke left behind by some students for valentine's day?

Before you could dwell on it further, a sudden honk startled you. Looking up, you spotted your dad pulling up on his motorcycle. Quickly, you stuffed the notebook into your bag, not wanting to explain why you were standing there reading what looked like a love spell book.

Without hesitation, you jogged over and hopped onto the back of the motorcycle, gripping onto your dad as the two of you rode off into the night.

Later that evening, you lay in bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You jumped from one distraction to another, reading fanfics, chatting with character AI, watching anime such as hentai, just to feel something, anything to fill the hollow ache inside you. But no matter what you did, that feeling of emptiness clung to you like a shadow, your mind drifting back to past relationships...if you could even call them that.

You blinked away the wetness gathering in your eyes, sniffling quietly before sitting up. Deciding to distract yourself with schoolwork, you shuffled over to your desk, rummaging through your bag to pull out your lecture notebooks only to pause when your fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

The Love Note.

Your breath hitched slightly as you pulled it out, your gaze locking onto the bold letters on the cover. You stared at it for a moment before flipping it over, once again rereading the neatly written rules on the back.

With a deep sigh, you flipped open the notebook to its blank pages. Grabbing a pen, you hovered it over the paper, hesitating. Who should you write?

Your mind raced, sifting through many different names of the people you knew. After a moment of thinking, your grip on the pen tightened, and before you even fully processed the decision, your hand moved on its own.

Ivan Volkov x Lucy Everhart

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭

The words sat there, staring back at you, absurd yet strangely thrilling. You swallowed, heart pounding against your ribs as you stared at what you had just written. Would it actually work?

Ivan was one of the school’s heartthrob. Handsome, charming, and a bit of a delinquent. As a star player on the basketball team, he had his own fan club, with many girls crushing on him and plenty of boys envying his fame. Unfortunately for them, he was already taken.

His girlfriend, Stella, was everything. A confident, intelligent class president who excelled in academics and had the poise of someone destined for greatness. They’d been together for over a year, and their relationship was known as the ideal "power couple" dynamic.

But, of course, gossip always finds a way. Whispers about Ivan possibly having a crush on Stella’s best friend, Lucy, floated around. Lucy was the quiet, gothic girl who stood out because of her beauty and introverted nature. She was the opposite of Stella in nearly every way. Most people wrote off the rumors as nothing more than attempts to stir drama, but despite that, some still wondered if there was any truth to it.

You thought, why not give Ivan a little push?

You weren’t sure what you expected to come from it, but you couldn’t help the nagging curiosity. You checked your phone, scrolling through your classmates’ group chat, hoping for some fresh gossip. After a while, you gave up. You realized just how ridiculous you were being. It wasn’t going to happen, was it?

With a heavy sigh, you closed the Love Note, pushing it aside as you focused on something more sensible, writing down the day’s lectures in your notebook so you could finally rest.

Completely unaware of the damage you have done.

Oh, you were such an adorable little thing in Pina's eyes. A tiny, fragile soul drowning in loneliness, silently envying those who had what you never did. Love. Affection. A place to belong.

He had been watching you for a while now, fascinated by the way you moved through life in dull shades of gray and blue. No warmth. No spark. Just a girl going through the motions, carrying the weight of a complicated, distant family and friendships that felt more like obligations.

The demon of love had always found the lives of mortals fascinating, watching them stumble through life, clinging to the belief that love was something sacred. They faced challenges, endured suffering, and sacrificed for the ones they cherished, all in the name of that fleeting emotion.

Some called him a darker version of cupid, others compared him to an incubus, but he was far more than that. He was a being who gifted love to humanity, weaving hope into their hearts only to watch as that same love consumed them, turning into pain, obsession, and despair. Nothing delighted him more than witnessing the way love, so beautiful at first, could unravel into something monstrous.

And lately, his newest fascination was YOU, the girl who had never truly experienced love, so different from the others he had encountered.

He wasn’t sure what exactly drew him in. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, silent yet observant, blending into the background yet never quite invisible. There was a weight in your gaze, a quiet longing buried beneath layers of indifference. You watched others bask in affection, soaking in their happiness like a starving soul denied a feast. And yet, you never reached out, never dared to claim it for yourself.

How tragic.

How utterly delicious.

Pina had seen many hearts shatter, but yours… yours had yet to be touched, yet to truly bleed. And that, more than anything, made you the perfect subject for his little game.

With his ability to remain unseen by mortal eyes, he had the luxury of observing you without interruption. He watched as you groggily woke up to the sharp beeping of your alarm, your face contorting in mild annoyance before you forced yourself out of bed. He took note of the little details of how you moved through your morning routine, the way you showered, carefully picked your outfit, and adjusted your hair just right. He memorized your habits, the small quirks that made you who you were, the way you tapped your fingers against the desk when deep in thought, how your lips pressed together when you were annoyed, and even the fleeting smiles you gave when lost in a daydream.

He knew what made your heart race, what stirred frustration in you, and what dulled the light in your eyes. And the more he watched, the more fascinated he became.

Realizing that Valentine's Day was just around the corner and that you had no one to spend it with, doomed to another year of loneliness and self-pity, he decided to offer you a little something to make this special day more… interesting. With a mischievous grin, he deliberately let his Love Note slip from his grasp, watching in amusement as it landed squarely on your face. A soft chuckle escaped him as he observed your confused expression, the way you glanced around, searching for any clue as to where the mysterious little gift had come from.

His large hand enveloped yours, guiding the pen across the page as you unknowingly surrendered to his will. He hovered behind you, his towering presence pressing close, the heat of his body seeping through your thin clothes. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, a teasing kiss, followed by a slow, deliberate lick that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Such a good girl…" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, rich with amusement. His other hand moved freely, fingers squeezing the roundness of your breast, grazing over your waist before trailing lower, exploring, tempting, yet careful not to wake you from your oblivious state. He chuckled softly against your skin, watching in satisfaction as you unknowingly sealed the fate of those whose names now stained the pages of the Love Note.

He watched with a devilish grin as you arrived at school, the air thick with whispers and gossip about what had happened the night before. Rumors spread like wildfire, students who lived in the same apartment complex as Lucy claimed to have seen her letting Ivan in during the late hours of the night. Those who lived even closer swore they heard unmistakable sounds of wet, rhythmic noises, breathless moans, gasps, and curses echoing through the walls.

Pina’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched the color drain from your face. You stood frozen, listening to the murmurs around you, heart pounding in disbelief. Across the hall, Lucy moved through the crowd, ignoring the stares and hushed conversations, her expression unreadable as she retrieved something from her locker.

Then came the confirmation. Ivan strutted past her, his hand landing on her ass with a sharp smack before giving it a firm squeeze. A playful pout crossed Lucy’s lips, her cheeks dusted pink as she shut her locker and hurried after him without hesitation.

The moment she disappeared from view, the whispers exploded.

"Oh my gosh, did you see that?"

"There's no way it's just a rumor now."

"Poor Stella… she's gonna lose it."

Pina chuckled to himself. The chaos had only just begun. And you... Oh, you had no idea what you’d just set in motion.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You barely registered your classes, your mind drifting elsewhere, tangled in endless thoughts. Was it just a coincidence? Could it really be possible that a few scribbled words in that notebook had shattered a long-term relationship overnight?

It didn’t make sense. It was ridiculous. Impossible. And yet… the timing was too perfect.

Your fingers fidgeted with your pen as doubt crept in. Had you really caused this? Had you truly made Ivan cheat on Stella with just a name and a few words?

A shiver ran down your spine. If it was real… then what else could the Love Note do?

That day, you let your curiosity run wild, filling the first few pages of the Love Note with the names of friends, classmates, and even teachers. It was a thrilling, twisted experiment, one that sent shivers down your spine, whether from excitement or something darker, you weren’t quite sure.

Some names were written with good intentions. You helped your shy male friend by making his longtime crush suddenly see him as attractive, her gaze lingering on him in ways it never had before. You smirked when you noticed the popular girl, who had built her reputation on humiliating others, growing flustered and bashful around the nervous introvert she used to torment. Watching her get pouty and restless whenever he ignored her was almost too satisfying.

But then, there were your darker experiments. With a wicked grin, you jotted down the name of a teacher you despised, pairing him with one of his students. The effect was subtle at first with lingering glances, an almost predatory hunger in his eyes whenever the student spoke. You shuddered, both disgusted and fascinated by how easily the Love Note twisted people’s hearts.

Then, for the final test, you pushed a boundary even though you hadn’t considered it before. You wrote down the names of the school's beloved transfer students, who happened to be step-siblings. Just for fun. Just to see what would happen.

Later that day, when you slipped behind the school building, your heart pounded at what you saw.

The older sibling had his younger sister trapped against the brick wall, his hand gripping her waist while his other hand tangled in her hair, keeping her close too close. Their lips moved together in a heated, frantic rhythm, bodies pressed flush against each other. A soft whimper escaped her as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening possessively around her hip.

She should have pushed him away. But instead, her hands clutched at his blazer, gripping the fabric as if torn between resistance and desire.

A heat spread through your chest. This is real. You had done this.

And no one even knew.

A devilish thrill coursed through your veins as you clutched the notebook tighter.

What else could you do?

Pina watched in amusement as you eagerly experimented with his Love Note, his devilish grin widening with every name you scribbled onto the page. He giggled wickedly at the chaos unfolding before him, entertained by your sinful curiosity.

He found it adorable. The way you played matchmaker with such innocence, only to indulge in darker whims moments later. The school was practically buzzing with drama because of you, yet you remained oblivious to the true weight of your actions.

By the end of the day, you felt a mix of giddiness and nervousness, your heart racing at the mess you had created. You had filled nearly an entire page with names, each one influencing lives in ways you could barely comprehend.

Pina watched the lingering smile on your lips with a teasing smirk of his own. However, that smile didn’t last long.

Curiosity, or perhaps desperation, led you to write down your own name alongside your current crush’s name, Asher, on the notebook. He was one of the cool, effortlessly talented guys at school, known for his incredible art skills. You had admired him from afar for a while, and now, with the Love Note in your hands, you wanted to see if it could finally bring him closer to you.

Sitting in the gym during a short break after helping with the decorations, you let your pen glide across the page:

Asher Monroe x [Y/N]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞.

Then, you waited.

Asher was in the same room, also assigned to decorate the place, moving effortlessly as he adjusted banners and arranged lights. But as the minutes passed, nothing happened.

He didn’t glance your way. He didn’t approach you. He barely even acknowledged your presence.

Frowning, you gripped the pen tighter and tried again, this time adding more desperate words.

Asher Monroe x [Y/N]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞.

You glanced up, hoping for some kind of reaction but Asher remained the same, lost in his task, completely unaware of your silent plea.

The realization hit you like a cold wave.

The Love Note… didn’t work on you.

You tried scribbling down your name again over and over as if sheer persistence could change the outcome. Nothing.

Frustration built in your chest as you tested other names, mixing yours with different people in the gym. Still nothing.

It wasn’t fair.

By the time you finally gave up, the school has already asked the remaining students to go home, and you were left with a deep frown on your face. You barely paid attention on the way home, your mind stuck on the cruel realization that the Love Note, this powerful little book that twisted the lives of others, refused to work on you.

Collapsing onto your bed with a tired sigh, you stared at the ceiling, the day’s events replaying in your head. Why?

Before you left school, you had tried one last experiment. Instead of using your own name, you wrote down two of your teachers’ names, just to see if the notebook was still functioning properly.

And it worked.

You had seen the subtle shift in their gazes, the way their interactions grew strangely heated, proving once again that the Love Note was real.

So then… why?

Why didn’t it work on you?

You let out a frustrated groan, pushing yourself up from your bed before dragging your tired body toward your desk. Your school bag sat there, untouched since you got home, as if taunting you. With a huff, you unzipped it and pulled out the Love Note, its black cover feeling heavier in your hands than before.

Flipping through its pages, you reread the names you had written earlier, the careless scribbles that had twisted people’s lives in one day. Every stroke of ink had power, shaping love, lust, obsession. Every name, every pair, every fantasy you had created came to life... Except yours.

Your fingers brushed over the page where your own name was scrawled over and over again, paired with different people. The ink stood stark against the paper, mocking you, taunting you.

Why?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hand running through your hair in frustration. How could something so powerful work so flawlessly for everyone else but not for you?

Was this a cruel joke? Some divine punishment?

Your chest ached with the weight of the unfairness, of the rejection. The one thing that could have given you the love you longed for, the romance that had always been just out of reach, refused to grant you that happiness.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. No, this wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair at all.

"Now, now, there's no need for tears, love..." A deep, velvety voice purred from nowhere, sending a chill straight down your spine.

Your lamp flickered once. Twice. Then the light steadied, bathing your room in a dim glow. And that's when you saw him.

A man… No, a demon. An inky-black feathered demon sprawled effortlessly across your bed, his presence both commanding and sinfully relaxed, as if he owned the very bed he lay upon.

He lay on his side, watching you. One arm propped up, supporting his head, his golden eyes smoldering with dark amusement. The other hand rested lazily at his waist, fingers grazing his bare skin, dangerously close to the waistband of his low-slung pants. His long, toned body stretched effortlessly across the mattress, one leg bent just enough to look inviting...enticing. Everything about him was deliberate, controlled, and dangerous.

But it was his gaze that truly made your breath hitched.

He wasn’t just looking at you. He was studying you, eyes tracing every twitch, every unsteady rise and fall of your chest, every ounce of confusion and fear flooding your expression.

A slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips, and just like that, panic hit you all at once.

A sharp scream tore from your throat, and as you jerked back in alarm, your chair tilted too far, sending you tumbling to the ground with a sharp thud!

Then a quiet chuckle escaped from him. "Falling for me already?"

WHAT. THE. HELL.

"Who the hell are you!? And why are you on my bed?!" you shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him.

The demon only chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he lazily stretched, his wings shifting slightly behind him.

"No need to act so surprised, darling." he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed mischief. "I am Pina, the Demon of Love. That little notebook you've been having so much fun with? It used to be mine." His smirk widened as he tilted his head, eyes raking over you with an almost predatory delight. "And judging by the delightful chaos you've caused in just one day, I'd say you're quite enjoying my gift."

"You… you're saying you're a demon? And that you own this notebook?"

"Correct." Pina’s smirk didn’t waver, his dark eyes watching you with a glint of amusement.

You swallowed, gripping the Love Note tightly in your hands. "Wait, you said this notebook was your gift. What do you mean by that?"

The demon let out a low, silky chuckle, tilting his head as if entertained by your curiosity. "Exactly what it sounds like, love. A special little present, just for you."

Your brows furrowed. "Did you… purposely drop this notebook for me that night?"

Pina hummed, tapping a finger against his lips in mock thought before grinning. "Mmm… perhaps. Or perhaps it simply found its way to you because you were meant to have it." His voice dropped to something smoother, more intimate. "Tell me, have you enjoyed using it?"

You shot him in an uncertain glare, still feeling both suspicious and shaken at the fact that you were talking to an actual demon, a being you had only ever believed to exist in the pages of the Bible.

"I... I don't know." you admitted, gripping the Love Note tighter. "It was fun, but it also felt wrong."

Pina tilted his head, "Hm? But tell me… if it felt so wrong, then why did you keep writing?"

Your breath hitched. He knew. Of course, he did. He was a demon, the owner of this notebook. There was no hiding anything from him.

"I-I also have a question..." you stammered, trying to steer the conversation away from his unnerving gaze. "Earlier, I tried writing my name in the Love Note along with another student's name, but… nothing happened."

Pina's smirk widened, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Ah… so you tried to use my gift for yourself?" His voice was teasing, almost mocking. "And let me guess… no matter how many times you wrote it, no matter how desperately you scribbled, your sweet little wish never came true."

Your grip tightened around the notebook, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then how does it work?" you demanded, voice laced with impatience. "Why is it that I, the one writing in it, can’t experience its power?"

Pina let out a soft chuckle, stretching his arms before shifting to sit up. His wings ruffled slightly as he ran a hand through his dark feathers, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, love," he sighed, voice dripping with condescension. "Did you really think something as powerful as this would bend to your will so easily?"

You swallowed, trying not to flinch as he slowly slid off the bed, his movements graceful yet unnervingly deliberate. He was close now, closer than he had any right to be.

"Then why did you give it to me?" you shot back, refusing to step away even as his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

Pina smirked, tilting his head as he observed you with an unsettling kind of fondness. "Because I enjoy watching you unravel." he said smoothly. "Seeing you toy with something you don’t fully understand… the excitement, the thrill, it’s more entertaining than anything I’ve witnessed in decades."

You swallowed hard but held your ground. "You think this is... funny?"

He leaned in closer, his warmth nearly brushing against you, voice smooth like silk. "I think it's fascinating."

His golden eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering just a second too long before locking onto your gaze again. "The way your heart races… the way your breath hitches when you realize what you’re capable of. You can create love, destroy it, and bend it to your will." His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch barely there, teasing.

You frowned, gripping the notebook tightly as you met his piercing golden gaze. "Tell me, Pina…"

For a moment, something flickered in his expression at the sound of his name on your lips, an emotion you couldn’t quite place. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by that ever-present smirk.

"Is love really never meant for someone like me?"

Pina let out a low chuckle, stepping closer with an effortless grace. "Now, now, love… Who put such a tragic idea in your head?" His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, but his eyes held something deeper, something unreadable.

Before you could answer, his fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin with a gentleness that felt almost out of place. Then, in one slow, deliberate movement, his hand shifted, gripping your chin and tilting your face up toward him.

"Love comes in many forms…" he murmured, leaning in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. "But tell me, my little heartbeat..." his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, "is it love that you truly crave? Or the intoxicating thrill of being wanted, of becoming the object of someone's deepest and darkest desire?"

As if to drive his point further, his other hand slid around your waist, fingers pressing firmly against your back as he pulled you closer. The space between you disappeared in an instant, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. His smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower, silkier.

"Because if that’s what you seek…" he purred, tilting your chin up with a featherlight touch, "then let me show you what it means to be truly desired… deeply, endlessly. No fleeting human affection, just pure, unshaken devotion."

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope I'm not too late. I was planning to post this yesterday, but it wasn't quite finished at the time. Heart's day was pretty uneventful for me (except for the fact that I received a sunflower from a guy at school, hehe) Thank you for reading! ♡♡♡

[bluemantics]

the art of tending

Keith has a lot of scars. Some are more visible than others, but Lance makes sure each one receives the proper care that it requires. In the morning, as he sweeps into the kitchen with languid stretching, he slides up to the counter beside his love. Ever the early-riser, Keith smiles at him as he scrambles eggs. 

“Good morning, Lance.” Keith isn’t one for pet names, which never matters— the way he says Lance is enough. It echoes in the crisp morning air, traveling out through the ajar windows. 

It’s too early for words, so Lance cradles Keith’s jawline in his hand. He relishes in the feeling of his wedding band pressing softly against Keith’s scarred cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss into its slight ridges. His husband hums, content. 

They linger in mornings, now. And both of them are endlessly thankful for the ability to wake up slowly, together. 

Throughout their days on Earth, teaching occupies a large sum of their time. The students at the Garrison are brilliant. Lance has a fondness for one girl in particular, a 16-year-old named Vidhi who loves the simulator and loves pranks even more. He scolds her, of course, in an attempt to not be obvious with his favorites. Still, she knows that she can always come to him. It’s a source of pride for Lance. 

As wonderful as they are, they can also be… challenging. Lance is grading papers when Keith storms into his empty classroom at lunchtime. He throws himself into the chair opposite Lance with a drawn-out huff, dramatically leaning forward on the desk. 

“Carlo, again?” Lance doesn’t even look up, continuing to work. 

“He’s skipping math. I asked him about it, and he said that he’d rather fly, and that he doesn’t like the other kids. In less polite words,” Keith explains, balling up his hand in a fist. “I want to be there for him, I do, but he isn’t ever there for himself. It’s so—“ 

“Oh, Keith,” Lance clucks his tongue, drawing a glare out of his beloved. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith complains. “Just say what you have to say.”

“Carlo is a trouble kid right? Always does what he wants? Kinda a lone wolf?” Lance levels an unimpressed look at Keith. 

“Yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow, clearly confused and frustrated.

“So, he’s like you, babe.” A range of emotions flash over Keith’s face. Indignation morphs into thoughtfulness before settling on realization. 

“Oh, shit.” He pushes back his bangs, eyes wide, and looks down at his hands with panic. “How am I supposed to even start with him? He’ll see right through me, and I am not equipped to handle an emotionally unstable kid. This is a horrible—“

Lance grabs Keith’s hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. “This is a wonderful idea. Who better to help him than a person who understands him? Who will treat him like an equal?”

“I don’t know where to begin, Lance,” Keith whispers. Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s knuckles.

“Yes, you do.” He uses his free hand to turn around the frame on his desk. In it is a picture of the team, all smiling proudly while hugging one another. Lance taps the photo. 

“Shiro.” Keith follows his gesture, grabbing the photo and looking at it contemplatively. 

“Shiro,” Lance agrees, watching him take that information in. “You don’t have to be perfect, red. God knows Shiro wasn’t— he was just as young as we are now— but if you can do what he did for you… that’s powerful stuff.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, glancing back up at Lance. “Okay, yeah. I can try.”

“I know this is hard,” Lance tells him. “There is no other person who could do this for Carlo, Keith. Not a one. You’ve got everything you need, and if you ever need help, you can always call him. You lived it first. Now pass it on.”

Keith stands abruptly and places the frame down on Lance’s desk, determination set into every muscle of his frame. “I’ll talk to him.” He swivels on his foot, turning to fast-walk out. 

“Up-bup-bup! You’re forgetting something!” Lance calls over. 

“Oh, yeah.” Keith grins, spins back to his partner, and draws him up into a kiss. It’s as grateful as it is fleeting. 

It leaves Lance’s heart fizzing with energy as Keith dashes out, adding a new pep to his grading. Lance is always relieved when he can soothe the pain from Keith’s oldest scars, the ones on his mind.

Eventually, when they turn in for the night, Keith will wince at the pull of his aching muscles. He’ll twist in their bed, trying to get comfortable until Lance finally gestures for him to move in front. Then, with quiet and calming hands, Lance will rub out the soreness from a long day of training and hard work. He makes sure to gently pull aside Keith’s long hair when necessary, lets his fingers skirt over the hard lines of Keith’s back. 

Keith will lean into his touch, as always. They’ll talk, voices long and low, about everything. Their classes. Hearing from teammates. A hard workout. An annoying call from family. Even, in their most difficult moments, they might mention missing some aspects of the war.

Those kinds of discussions are only reserved for nighttime. When the air from the windows is chilled, the stars are up instead of around, and Lance’s hands are tracing lines across Keith’s ribs and his shoulders. He maps out every scar from memory, pulls out every memory from each scar. 

Over time, Lance will lose his ability to speak, capable of just monosyllabic words. 

Keith will notice. He can never stop noticing. His eyes will wander over his shoulder, see his husband’s lids droop, and, with the grace of a much less rugged man, will ease Lance slowly to lie down. 

In a matter of seconds, Keith will wrap around Lance. They’ll close their eyes, limbs tangled, hearts thudding slowly in time. 

No “I love you” needs to be said when every action, every tender caress and guiding word, leads them to the same place day after day. 

[unwantedthots]

Captive Bird | Caleb x Reader

- genre : smut, porn, slight plot, feelings, creampie, cum, dirty talk

- writer: Ive literally NEVER written smut before but ive read a couple and felt like i wanted to write it lol. This is my first ever time writing this so PLEASE bare with me in the new territory im learning lol. Im sorry if its not that long or all jumbly <333

———————————————————————————

"You don’t need me?"

Caleb’s breath hitched, his eyes burning with hurt and fury. "Is that what you think?" His voice wavered, but the desperation in it only grew. "Then tell me—what do you need?" He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. "We can go back to Linkon if you want. We can rebuild our old home. If a house isn’t enough, I’ll build you an entire maze filled with everything you want. No one will ever find you again. I’ll protect you forever."

His gaze bore into yours, searching and pleading for any sign of understanding. His emotions spiraled out of control. And by the time he realized it, he was already too far gone.

You stare at caleb with a stern look and shake your head, trying to wiggly out of his grasp but its no use. “You acting like this, you really think this is how you will get me to stay?” you spewed. Caleb and you hardly argued but when you did it was pure emotion. “I haven’t seen you in months, you show up out of the blue and bark orders at me?”

Caleb's hands twitched against your wrists, his grip loosening significantly at their words. His violet eyes darkened, the depth of his feelings plainly visible. "You think I want to act like this? That I'm doing this because I enjoy it?" The tension in his voice was palpable, the intensity behind his words making the air in the room grow heavy.

“Everything I have done has been to protect you” He growled, throwing his hand to the side. His stare was deep, penetrating, his eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched. “You just don’t see it. You’re too stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didnt need protecting.” You spat trying to shove him off, but he didnt budge. “You forced ME to stay here. You kept secrets.” You argued poking your finger into his sternum. “You.. you died. You left me and made me believe you were dead.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving your face. Then slowly, he leaned back, finally releasing your wrists. His hand ran through his messy dark hair, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Caleb.. I-" You spoke bringing down your tone. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. His touch was as gentle as ever, showing a stark contrast to the harshness of their argument.

You moved your head from his hand

"I don't want you to stay because I'm forcing you to," he added, his gaze sincere. "I want you to stay because you want to… because you can't imagine being anywhere else. Because you feel safe with me."

You moved away from his touch, but slowly began to let him do as he pleased. His prior frustrated facial expression had turned to a soft gaze.

His fingers gently trailed down your cheek, his touch feather-light. Despite their argument, despite the storm brewing outside, this was the Caleb, you knew. Not the ruthless Farspace Fleet Colonel. Not the man who would manipulate situations for his own benefit. Just Caleb, the man who cared for you more than anything else.

"But if I'm not the one who makes you feel safe anymore…" he trailed off, his gaze dropping to his lap. "If all I bring you is pain and misery… Then maybe it's best if you do leave. Maybe you would be better off without me around."

His purple irises met theirs once more, a silent plea hidden within their depths. He lowered his hand and grabbed yours placing it onto his chest. You could feel his muscles through his clothes, his heart racing ever so slightly.

The argumentative atmosphere had dissipated. You both had so much love for each other and the way you were showing it now was toxic. You NEVER argued.

“You know thats not true.” You trailed off feeling his breathe. You sighed softly. Your friend you loved was so mature, something so unfamiliar to you.

Caleb's gaze was earnest, filled with a yearning that seemed to pull you closer. "When I look at you, it's like seeing the one person who stayed the same, no matter how much the world turned upside down. I want to protect that—you, the way you’ve always made me feel. But I don't always know how to do it right anymore."

Calebs hand slid up to your face. “I really dont know whats right anymore” Caleb said tilting his head to the side, staring down at your lips. He was about to cross a line that had never been crossed.

Your heart raced at the thought of caleb kissing you. The sibling relationship you guys had went away after he ‘died’. When you mourned for Caleb you were filled with regrets. Now one of those regrets was about to wash away.

You closed your eyes as Caleb closed the gap between you two. His kiss was almost as if he had been waiting for this for years. The way his body completely moved with yours.

His touch was gentle yet filled with a raw intensity, as if trying to convey the words he couldn't quite form. For a moment, everything else faded away—the arguments, the pain, the confusion. There was only this: a connection that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes buldged as caleb kissed you, unsure of the new territory but you slowly began to accept. Calebs hand trailed down to your wrist and he squeezed it firm almost like he was holding back.

The anger you felt, the confusion you felt, was all gone. You could only think about his lips on yours.

When his hand moved from their face to their wrist, his fingers had curled around it gently. He was careful, mindful of his own strength, feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingertips. That familiar rhythm brought a sense of calm, even as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

The storm outside was still brewing and yet you and caleb didnt seem to mind. The only thing on your minds was each other.

His grip on their wrist softened, shifting to intertwine their fingers as he spoke. "If this is too much—“

“No.. No keep going” you spoke with pleaful eyes. He nods and deepens the kiss as his hand finds the wall behind your head, resting on it. His eyebrows furrowed, his body language full of lust.

Your hands trailed to his waist, gripping onto his pants and pulling him closer to you, both of your tongues swirling in an almost drunken kiss.

A low groan escaping his lips as he felt your fingers grip his pants. He pressed closer, the hard lines of his body molding to the curves of their own. The wall at Y/N back and Caleb's arm around their waist pinned them together, a delicious trap from which neither seemed eager to escape.

His hand slid from their hair to their jaw, tilting it slightly as he explored their mouth with a newfound intensity. Years of pent-up longing and desire coursed through his veins, and he channeled it all into this single moment, this perfect, stolen interlude. He wanted to devour them, to consume every last inch of their skin until there was nothing left but the two of them.

Caleb swept you up into his strong arms, gripping their thighs as he hoisted them onto his hips. He pressed your back against the wall, pinning you there with his muscular frame as he crushed his lips to yours in a searing kiss filled with long-denied passion and lust. One hand slid down to squeeze the curve of your ass, pulling your hips snugly against his own. The hard, thick ridge of his arousal pressed insistently against your core, separated only by the thin fabric of his pants and their clothing.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Caleb's dark, desire-glazed eyes met yours, his gaze heavy with hunger and unspoken desires. "Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and rough with need.

With that, he swung around and carried you towards the bedroom, his long strides swift and purposeful. He kicked the door shut behind them, the sound echoing in the charged air between them. Caleb laid you down on the bed, following them down, his body blanketing yours, his hips nestled between your spread thighs.

"Tell me to stop," Caleb rasped, his breath hot against your cheek, then your neck. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, this isn’t right.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of his voice. “No, keep going” You spoke reopening your eyes to gaze at him.

He let out a small groan, a sound that came from someone who was surprised by an answer.

He nipped at your collarbone, soothing the sting with a kiss as he pressed his hips more firmly against yours. The hard, thick length of him throbbed insistently, separated only by the barrier of their clothing. He rolled his hips, grinding against their core, and a low groan rumbled in his chest at the delicious friction.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed against his racing heartbeat, "I feel how much you want this too. I know you feel how hard I am for you."

Your face flushed at the sound of Calebs dirty talk. This was such a new area you didn’t know how to feel. You felt shy almost, like this was your first time with anyone.

His hand slid up their side, pushing the hem of your shirt upwards to expose more of your soft skin. Callused fingers brushed over the sensitive underside of their breast, making their way to their nipples.

You let out a soft moan which made Caleb chuckle. The fact that Caleb was able to get you to make such a sound, for him to finally hear that sound, sent chills down his spine. Emboldened, he tugged impatiently at his shirt, taking it off his body, same with his belt.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He swallowed your moans, drinking it down like the finest wine as he ground his hips more insistently against theirs.

Breaking the kiss, Caleb trailed his lips downwards, his tongue flicking out to trace the elegant line of their neck, the delicate curve of their collarbone. He could feel their heart pounding beneath his touch, matching the tempo of his own.

You began to take your shirt off leaving you bare chested. Caleb had sat up, staring at you intently, almost drawing every curve of you in. He licked his lips and grabbed a condom from the drawer to his right, holding it in between his teeth as his ripped it.

Tossing the empty wrapper aside, he held the condom aloft, his eyes locking with Rose's. The dark purple irises swirled with lust and anticipation, a promise of the pleasure to come.

"I'm going to love you like i’ve always dreamed of" Caleb murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to feel every inch of you, to be inside you in every way possible."

“Caleb… don’t say such provocative things…” you said shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. The heat radiated from your ears, cheeks, and shoulders, painting your skin a bright shade of red. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment.

He chuckled softly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you love it,” he replied, his tone playful yet filled with an undeniable heat. The way he looked at you made your stomach flutter, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within you.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep inside. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, attempting to sound defiant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Caleb’s gaze softened, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “You can’t hide how you feel from me,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “I see the way you react, the way you light up when I say those things.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The connection between you was electric, and despite your attempts to play it cool, you knew he was right. Every teasing word, every sultry glance only drew you closer to him, making it impossible to resist.

He tossed the condom onto the bed beside you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, his fingers toying with the button. He laughed at your comment and leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered:

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you wrapped around me, I need to finally be able to touch you.” Your throat dried up quickly as you nodded, gently cradling Caleb's face. "I don't want to be distant from you… Not again, not ever."

The urgency in your voice nearly left Caleb in a state of turmoil; he was trying his best to remain calm and tender with you. With care, he slid your panties down and moistened two of his fingers, tenderly exploring between your folds.

As he touched you, your back arched instinctively, a wave of warmth cascading through your body. A flutter of excitement stirred in your stomach, a delicious mix of anticipation and desire that made your breath hitch. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your reaction, but the sensation of his hands exploring your skin was intoxicating, igniting every nerve ending.

Caleb took a moment to steady himself, his breath even, as he positioned himself at your entrance. One arm rested next to your neck and the other placed around his cock, just between your legs.

He looked into your eyes, ensuring that you were comfortable and ready for what was about to happen. The atmosphere was tense, filled with an anticipation that hung heavily in the air. Communication was key, and he wanted to make sure you felt safe and in control.

You looked up and noticed the necklace you had given him swaying gently, a reminder of your connection. His pupils were dilated, revealing an intensity that suggested a deep desire. The moment felt charged, each heartbeat echoing the shared anticipation between you.

Caleb regarded you with a questioning gaze, and you nodded in response, granting him permission.

He gradually pressed deeper, and you found yourself unprepared for his size. A low groan escaped his lips as his hand, which had been wrapped around him, moved to your other shoulder.

“Mmph, Caleb,” you murmured, glancing down at his abdomen. His muscles were taut, glistening with beads of sweat that trickled down his body. When you looked back up, you noticed his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be in a state of near discomfort.

You reached out to touch his face, but he caught your hand firmly, pushing it back down into the pillow. The unexpected move sent a thrill through you, a mix of surprise and excitement. His grip was gentle yet possessive, a reminder of the intensity of the moment.

“Not yet,” Caleb said, his voice low and filled with a teasing authority that sent shivers down your spine. “I want you to feel this. Just let go and trust me.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. The way he looked at you, with a blend of desire and determination, made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. You nodded, surrendering to the moment, allowing him to guide you.

He slowly began to pull in and out of his, his eyes focused on looking down, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. ‘Mmph’ You said quietly causing Caleb to look up at you, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

He picked up the pace, and you found yourself unprepared for the sudden intensity. “Caleb,” you moaned, attempting to press your other hand against his chest, but he swiftly pushed it back down. “Slow— mph, down,” you managed to say, your hands now trapped beneath one of his.

He slowly opened his eyes and pressed his lips against yours, savoring every moan that escaped you and returning the sensation with equal fervor. One of your hands slipped from his and reached to his back grabbing onto his shoulder blade harshly.

The way he was making you feel was to much, it was to fast for your. “Caleb-“ You spoke again before he cut you off.

“Please, hah, please don’t make to slow down…” he spoke through moans“I’ve been waiting for this… please don’t make me slow down.”

You quickly covered your mouth and screwed your eyes shut as you let Caleb continue. He felt so large inside of you almost like you could feel him in your stomach.

Caleb had let go of your other hand and gripped the headboard of his bed, almost clawing at it.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice low and filled with desire. “You feel so fucking good.” Each moan that escaped his lips was breathtaking, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you. The way he spoke made it clear that he was on the edge, teetering between pleasure and the brink of release.

“Always back-talking me—hah—and now… now you’re silent,” he teased, his words dripping with a playful challenge. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, as if he were trying to chase the high that was just out of reach. The tone in his voice wasn’t angry; instead, it felt like this was his way of getting you back, of reminding you of the playful banter that had always defined your connection.

You could feel the intensity building between you, a palpable energy that made the air around you crackle. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and you could sense the shift in him, the way his control was slipping as he surrendered to the moment. It was exhilarating, the way he pushed and pulled, teasing you while also losing himself in the pleasure you shared.

As you locked eyes, you could see the mix of determination and vulnerability in his gaze. It was a reminder that beneath the playful banter and teasing, there was a deep connection that bound you both together, one that thrived on intimacy and trust.

Your walls clench at Calebs stern comment, making his whole body shake for a moment. “You did that in purpose.” Caleb groaned leaning over so his head was into yours ear.

Your stomach tightens at Calebs words and your legs begin to shake. You were so close so you quickly pushed onto his chest trying to push him away. ‘Caleb- Ha - I’m mph, Im close You cried

Caleb’s head tilted back for a moment before he locked eyes with you, his grip firm as he cupped your face. “Don’t push me away anymore,” he said, his voice echoing with a hollow intensity.

Your heart raced at his words, a mix of fear and desire swirling within you. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric. “Caleb—please, I can’t... I’m so close, just stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you instinctively tried to push him away.

But he didn’t budge. Instead, his gaze softened slightly, revealing a vulnerability that made your stomach tighten. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, teetering on the edge of something you both feared and craved. “Let me see you, please.” He begged.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your legs began to shake. “Mmph-“ You moaned as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer towards you.

“Let it out, Y/N,” he urged, his hand sliding to grip your waist. The moment his fingers brushed against your skin, a wave of sensation washed over you, turning you into a moaning mess. Your toes curled, and you arched your back, each vibration coursing through your body like electricity, igniting every nerve ending.

“Ahh, damn,” Caleb moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “It feels so good... I’m so close.” His words spilled out in a breathless rush just before you felt him twitch, his body trembling with pleasure as he released within you. He sucked on your neck as he released with pleasure, moving his hand in yours, grasping it tightly before softly letting go.

Caleb slid out of you and settled beside you, both of you panting, sweaty, and utterly satisfied. You turned to look at him, and your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes—he looked utterly in love, as if he wanted to savor every part of you.

You leaned up to get out of bed, but Caleb quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against him. With your back to him, you felt his warm breath against your neck as he nuzzled in, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Stop,” you giggled, trying to squirm free, but he held you tighter, a playful grin on his face.

You rolled over to face Caleb, who had been gently playing with your hair. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you. “Hi,” he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Hello,” you replied, your gaze dropping shyly to the sheets.

You scooted closer to Caleb, burying your head into his chest, and he welcomed you by wrapping his arms around you. With a gentle motion, he grabbed the blanket that had been tossed aside, pulling it over both of you and creating a cozy cocoon. “Laying together like this feels like old times,” he said, his voice warm and nostalgic. “But now it’s even better.”

A smile spread across your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I missed this...” you murmured softly.

As you settled deeper into his embrace, you realized that this moment was more than just a memory; it was a promise of all the moments yet to come.

Caleb squeezed you putting his chin ontop of your head, engulfing you in all the love he had to share. A new beginning of both of you, a new uncharted territory and yet you both were so excited to just be there together.

[berryispunk]

Insomniacs

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: friends to lovers, insomnia, mental health struggles (ptsd, depression), soft! Frankie, kissing, yearning, swearing, nicknames (hermosa), fluff, idiots in love, no smut, no physical description of reader apart from having hair

summary:  What if you can’t sleep and you call for your best friend to come over and suddenly everything changes ?

word count: 3,1 k

It’s nothing new that you can’t sleep. Dealing with various mental health stuff over the years and chronic pain on top, you should know better. 

You tried every sleeping aid under the sun; meditation, counting sheep, lavender on your pillow and melatonin. Nothing worked, so you started to build your life around it. Midnights became your afternoons to quote Taylor Swift. 

But you were creative, somehow still holding up the hope that it magically gets better or you’ll just get used to it. But it never happened. 

So tonight as the red numbers of your digital alarm clock illuminate your face, mocking you once again, you groan in frustration. You stare at the ceiling, watching the various colored lights of the cityscape dancing around and if you weren’t so damn defeated you would be able to find beauty in this, but you can’t. Not today. You reach for your phone charging on your nightstand and scroll mindlessly through social media. Minutes turn into an hour and you finally sit up in your bed, opening your messages app. It’s 2:30 a.m., who could possibly be awake at this hour? Your international friends? Yeah, for sure. But as you go through your various contacts you stop at one name, smiling to yourself as you press the call button. 

It takes three rings until a familiar deep voice fills your ears. 

“Hello?” the voice murmurs and you immediately feel guilty because you didn’t expect him to have been asleep. His voice sounds exhausted.

“Oh my god. Sorry Frankie, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you apologize and he chuckles softly at the other end. 

“‘s alright, wasn’t really sleeping just… dozing off. What’s up, hermosa? It’s….” he pauses shortly. “It's, fuck, 2:32 at night. What is going on? Are you alright?” The worry in his voice is palpable and it’s one of the things you admire about him.

“Yeah, it’s the same old insomnia again and I figured why not call the one person that gets my pain?” you say apologetically and you can practically hear his smirk. 

“Us good old insomniacs, huh? Is it your brain or the pain this time?” he asks and you sigh heavily in response. 

“Probably a mix of both…” you sink deeper into your cushion. 

Frankie might be the only person you ever met who understands the struggles that come with lack of sleep. His military background and the resulting nightmares made him an ally in the cruel game that called itself life. The two of you spent countless nights like this, on the phone or texting, watching nonsense over whatever TV channel was on but you’ve never done one thing: late-night meetings. 

You weren’t sure if it was a secret agreement the both of you made that late night meetings were off-limits in all the time you’ve known each other, but tonight something felt different. 

“Hey Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Why have we never met? At night, when we weren’t able to sleep… I mean, you only live on the other side of the city, not the world.”

The other end stays silent and you think you may have overstepped an up-to-now invisible line by asking. 

Then he clears his throat. “Would you want me to come over? You never asked and I never did, because no way in hell I let you wander alone through the night…” he clarifies and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, ever the gentleman Frankie Morales did not want to risk your safety. 

“Well, what if I’d ask you to come over now?” You hear him swallowing heavily at the other end of line. 

You don’t even know why you’re wanting this all of a sudden, maybe you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s not like there isn’t some underlying tension between the two of you anyway. Mindless flirting and playful teasing is all part of your friendship. 

Frankie is way too trusting for his own good, getting screwed up by his lack of judgement concerning other people and his soft heart, even if he would never let the boys know. They would give him hell about it. But around you he’s let his guard down and you have deep conversations with him about all things going wrong and the few that haven't. He’s one of the few people who know about your troubled youth and strained relationship with your mother. You in turn are one of the few people that know the severity of his PTSD. 

He makes you feel heard like no guy has ever managed to do. He really looks at you when you’re talking and it always makes you feel giddy when he remembers little things you told him a while back. 

You like his attentive nature, but somehow you have never found yourself thinking of him as a potential partner, even if he’s awfully attractive with his broad shoulders and unruly dark curls. His million-watt smile that, if it’s honest, creates little wrinkles around his eyes and makes your own smile widen every damn time in return.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained and uncertain. 

“I am,” you say boldly even if you feel anything but.

Fuckin hell, why does your heart beat so fast? 

“Give me 20 minutes,” is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead. 

You immediately jump up from your bed and panic takes over. What were you thinking? What do you even expect to happen when he’s here? Or worse, what if he expects something to happen? No, he would never. It’s Frankie after all, he would’ve had plenty of chances to make approaches but he never has, always keeping a respectful distance. And now you wonder if he only kept it because you made it seem like you weren’t interested in more than a friendship? 

When you first met him, you actually had a little crush on him but held yourself back because you told yourself he was out of your league and he was in a relationship. Then they broke up, but he was in a new one only a few weeks later. It went on like that for a long time until you were taken. Your ex never liked the boys so you kept your distance and the estrangement grew until you broke up with the guy and picked up your friendships where you left off. 

It’s always been so easy to be with Frankie. You could be yourself around him, no need to pretend to be someone you’re not. He saw you in every state: drunk, crying, bed head and pajamas or all dolled-up for another unfulfilling date. He still looked at you the same and it gave you some sort of confidence you’re usually unable to muster. So right now you don’t even think about changing. You stay in your sleep shirt and shorts, no underwear whatsoever, because it doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing you do is brush your teeth and open the messy bun your hair has been in, making it fall loosely over your shoulders.

For a moment you wonder whether he wants anything specific to drink, but as you check your fridge you see that you have plenty of soda and beer - both beverages you know he enjoys. So you sit down on the sofa, only the soft dim light of the standing lamp in the corner illuminating the room and you grow nervous again. Why, you can’t tell. This isn’t different from all the other times you’ve met him, the only difference being it’s late at night. But then you remember the saying ‘nothing good happens after 2 am’ and you get restless all over again until a soft knock on the door announces his arrival. 

With a few quick steps you open the door, but only a crack and Frankie looks at you, tired brown eyes mustering you. He’s smiling as per usual and holds up a plastic bag. “I brought the pretzels you like so much.” 

You open the door all the way to let him in. He’s wearing grey sweatpants, the standard oil cap which has to be glued to his head at this point, and one of his worn-down band shirts. Sometimes you “borrow” one of them when he doesn’t notice. You’re actually wearing one right now. 

“Hi,” you grin as he places the plastic bag on the coffee table. 

“Hi yourself,” he grins back and his eyes wander over your figure for a moment as his smirk widens. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“Maybe,” you tease back, mirroring his smirk. “You want it back?” 

He shakes his head, lifting his signature cap to run a hand through his curls before he puts it back on. “Nah, looks better on you anyway,” he says and somehow it makes your cheeks turn a bit warmer.

“You want something to drink?” you ask, clearing your throat. 

“Yeah, a beer maybe? But please tell me you’ve got more than the muck from the gas station? Because that tastes like piss,” he complains and you laugh as you walk over to your kitchen, opening the fridge. 

“Well, good for you I have actual beer, some Corona even if you’re feeling fancy.”

“Oh, I feel very fancy, hermosa,” he laughs and leans over the kitchen countertop as you reach for the beer. You feel his gaze on your backside, but decide to say nothing. 

You place the beer on the counter, a soda in your hand, and the noise of it opening echoes loudly through the apartment. He opens his beer with a lighter before he takes the first sip. 

It’s quiet for a moment before you ask, “How’s that girl you were talking about last week? Cindy or what’s her name?”

He shrugs, a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re asking me about my dating life?” 

You frown, tilting the soda can in your hand before answering “Guess so.” 

“Didn’t see her again,” he simply states and something blooms inside of you. Is it relief?

“Ah, okay…” you say, trying not to let your emotions show too much. 

“And… you? How’s that guy you told me about? Jack?”

“Jacob,” you correct, not that it would matter. You met him once and it’s clear that he’s still very much in love with his ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, Jacob, sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “How is he?”

“Guess he’s fine…I wouldn’t know, as I only went on a date with him once.”

“Oh.” “Oh?” you scoff and he chimes in with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, what else should I say? He didn’t seem like a good match for you.”

“You know, you never said that about any of the guys I dated.”

“They were all losers.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Shit, I‘m sorry…” he babbles but your eyebrows are furrowed.

“So tell me who’s a good match for me then?” You glare at him. It’s infuriating that he even thinks he’s allowed to judge you when he clearly isn’t better with all the girls he’s dated in the past. 

“Someone who really cares for you and sees you for who you are. Someone who treats you right and would do anything to make you happy, you know…” He’s fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. You just watch him, too stunned to speak as his words strike a chord. You know he’s right and that makes it hurt even more. 

“Maybe I’m just not made for a relationship,” you sigh as you take another sip of your soda, mimicking his stance by leaning across from him against the counter. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“So what? You’re gonna tell me that there’s someone for me whom I just haven't met yet? That I didn’t search long or hard enough? I am 28, Frankie. I am tired of being in the dating pool. I just want… “ you exhale defeatedly. “I just want someone to come home to and who’s as happy to see me as I am to see him.”

“I am happy to see you,” he says quietly and it makes your heart miss a beat. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the same and you know it.”

“Why not?” he asks back, your eyebrows shooting up as he finally looks up from the bottle in his hand and places it onto the next available surface. “You’re a smart girl, hermosa. Don’t tell me you don’t know?” There’s indignation in his voice.

“Don’t know what?”

With one big step he closes the distance between you, standing so close to you you can clearly smell the last bit of his perfume he’s probably worn during the day and most of all you can smell him. The earthiness, musk and warmth are weirdly comforting as he looks down at you. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you or can you feel it as well?” he murmurs when you finally have the courage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching. 

“Frankie, I–”

Suddenly he’s so close, so all-consuming it makes it hard to think. 

“Tell me you don’t feel it and I stop,” he whispers. You feel his breath on your face and the warm feeling inside your chest spreads further. 

Of course you’ve felt that way before, but you didn’t think too much about it, not wanting to risk this friendship that's so important to you. 

“I won’t,” you croak out and he smirks in response, the cocky smile he always has when he is certain about something. 

“Figured,” he continues before adding, “So tell me, how many of these dickheads do you want to date until you give the one guy a chance that really cares about you?” 

“But.. We are…”

“Friends? Yeah, and I want to be so much more than that to you. Do you really think I would drive through the city at this ungodly hour for just anyone?”

You search for his eyes again, slightly blushing and shaking your head. 

He starts playing with a lock of hair, curling it around his thick fingers which makes you incredibly nervous.

“I woke you up, didn’t I? And now you stand here at 3 in the morning… I feel horrible.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m glad you invited me over. Who needs sleep if I can be with you instead?”

You smile at that. 

“I’m still sorry.”

“No need,” he assures you. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now…” 

And his voice drips with honesty as his eyes lock with yours and the intensity of his gaze paired with his words make your breath hitch. Your eyes flick onto his plush lips which look so much more kissable up close and you bite your own lips. He mirrors the movement and suddenly his big hand rests on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek bone as he pulls you a tiny bit closer. You reach for his cheek in return, his patchy stubble tickling your hand and you part your lips as he takes the cue, dips his head and his lips are only a hair's breadth away from yours. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you just nod in agreement.

His lips capture yours in a soft, tentative kiss and your stomach does somersaults. You’ve wondered in the past what kissing him would feel like, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He knows exactly what he’s doing, his lips moving with purpose without being overbearing. The softness of his lips is a stark contrast to the slight scratch of his stubble against your skin. You practically melt into the kiss and you’re certain that no one has ever kissed you like this, so soft but purposefully determined it makes your head spin.

You tangle your hands in the soft locks on the ape of his neck as you deepen the kiss. He’s parting his lips voluntarily so you can invade his mouth with your tongue as his hand wanders from your cheek into your hair, cradling the back of your head. He presses you against the counter with his body weight as his other hand wanders to your hip, his fingers digging into the tender flesh under his shirt. As your tongues dance feverishly his breathing gets uneven, panting into the kiss and you can’t help but smile softly that he gets so worked up over a kiss. 

“You okay?” you whisper as you part to breathe, your foreheads touching. 

“Yeah,” he breathes “It’s just.. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long so I wanna get this right.”

You take his head between your hands, your thumbs stroking his cheeks now. 

“You’re doing everything right, Frankie,” you smile softly and his face lights up.

“Can I maybe take you out on a date first before I ravish you right here in your kitchen?”

You can’t help but laugh at that, an honest laugh not many people are able to elicit from you. 

“I’d love that,” you say softly and nuzzle your nose against his while his thumb draws small circles over your hip where your shirt rode up. 

Suddenly the tiredness comes back to you as you yawn heavily and he creates some distance to be able to look at you. 

“Do I bore you, hermosa?” “No!” you quickly protest. “But I’m tired all of a sudden…”

“No shit, it’s late. Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” 

He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom where you fall headfirst into the pillow with a groan. 

“Frankie?” you call for him, lifting your head up slightly, his name suddenly sounding so big in the quietness of the night. 

“Yeah?” you hear faint footsteps as if he’s about to leave and the thought makes you sad.

“Would you mind staying?”

It’s deadly quiet for a moment before you hear the rustling of sheets and his weight next to you on the mattress. “Not at all,” he murmurs softly and you scoot closer to him, cuddling into his side as he puts his arm around your shoulders, his chin resting against your head. It feels so natural. It feels like coming home. You yawn and close your eyes again. 

“Thank you,” you murmur softly as your hand rests on his chest. 

“Anytime,” he says and then adds, “And just for the record, her name was Clara.”

“What?” 

“The girl I was on a date with, her name was Clara not Cindy. Not that it’d matter anyway because the only person I go on dates with from now on will be you,” he chuckles softly and you grin widely, even if he can’t see it. 

“Good to know,” you say sleepily and for the first time in weeks you drift off into a deep, restful sleep.

my masterlist - in case you're hungry for more :)

most recent work

[suzukiblu]

In "you're a real katch" I'm a bit stuck on how no one's noticed Superboy supposedly having visited Superman but having no memory of it and etc with Match impersonating him. I do feel like what's going down now should reveal that one cause this is a bit of a major thing to miss.

I'm overthinking this.

I am enjoying Match getting comfort and etc.

This clone needs therapy

This clone needs SO much therapy, hahaha.

I absolutely also overthink, lol, you are not alone, friend. So my thought process with Matching going repeatedly unclocked by Clark starts with Match only supposed to have done these visits/drop-ins a handful of times spread out OVER time, and is probably also counting times where he was passing for Kon long-term and no one found out 'til later, so it wouldn't typically be a super-regular thing with a ton of chances for Clark to notice anything weird.

Historically Match only HAS gotten clocked as "Not Actually Kon", like, MAYBE twice that I can recall--once by Tana, who got him pretty much cold, and once by Tim and Cissie when the Agenda had him start yelling about INCREDIBLY out of character for Kon shit on national television (after weeks if not MONTHS of NOT previously clocking him), and if it's happened any other times that weren't deliberate reveals I don't know about 'em. Even KON wasn't sure if Match wasn't an alternate version of him during the whole Suicide Squad thing! Hell, even MATCH wasn't, though like, obvi that was Amanda Waller's fault, but still canon! Still counts, haha!

In general Match is depicted as being REAL convincing at passing for Kon to the point that even deliberate acts of sabotage he commits in the process look like shit that people could genuinely believe Kon would do/"mistakes" that people could genuinely believe Kon would make. Plus there's also the fact that, well, you don't always talk about every time you've seen each other with someone, you know? And even when you do sometimes you just say "the last time I/you came over" or "when I saw you the other day" and "no I forget, what'd you say it was?" or "uhhhhh dude that was like a month ago, remind me?" or just things along those lines. So they weren't meant to be particularly memorable visits or anything, just like, "normal" interactions Clark would be used to having with Kon every now and then, and not necessarily involving any topics that would come across as suspicious for Kon to know/ask about.

And like, if nothing else, Clark has ALSO gotta be used to having a better memory than literally everyone he knows ( and the fact that just about everyone has a WAY worse and more easily-influenced memory than they think they do ), so I don't think he'd necessarily tweak to having to remind someone about something he might've just mentioned in passing as unusual in his life experience. Especially since all extremely dedicated human-passing efforts aside, Clark still probably doesn't have the most accurate grasp of how much a normal memory would hold onto, given how wildly those can vary from person to person and how much harder that is to objectively learn/observe than shit like, how to flinch and what struggling to lift something looks like and what temperatures should be uncomfortable/painful.

And like, final finishing move: no offense to Kon, but historically he does not have the BEST track record at always fully grasping/understanding what Clark has said to him and has misunderstood or misinterpreted him MORE than once, so if Kon ever got confused about something "they" already talked about, it would not REMOTELY be an outlier to either him or Clark, haha.

[ilikekidsshows]

Why do people use the “Marinette must make a mistake in every episode” thing from the show bible as a way to say that the show treats her badly? They use it to justify her decisions and act like it’s the show’s writing working against her and making her out to do bad things. Really, it’s the show’s coddling of her that’s the problem, and the mistakes she makes are quite consistent with her character.

The show bible also says that Marinette must be sympathized with in every episode or something to that effect. But they never talk about that. And when did we forget that “protagonist makes a mistake and learns a lesson” is the standard format for almost every episodic show? They’re making it out to be like this sinister conspiracy against Marinette by the writers, it’s fascinating.

---

There's a reason I made an entire ask game out of the kind of backwards defenses some of the more desperate Marinette stans come up with. They’ve seen selling themselves and each other on this conspiracy narrative where the main lead in a kid superhero cartoon teaching kids moral lessons by learning them herself is actually that main lead being punished by the writers “for things that aren't her fault”. Like, I’ve seen that phrase basically word for word so many times that I have no doubt that it's something some slightly more popular blog said once and the Marinette stans never stopped running with it.

Like, I can even understand the “Marinette must always be sympathized with” caveat, because, for all I do consider it better than Miraculous as a whole, one of Danny Phantom’s issues to me, as a moral lesson show, is how mean-spirited it often is. Yes, it's self-aware about it, but Danny often gets such a short end of the stick even when he does everything right with the show expecting you to laugh and find it funny, so you kind of want him to get away with something for once. It goes a long way selling the loser protagonist character archetype Danny is but, yeah, I kinda see why Astruc would want to avoid Marinette getting that treatment even if she wasn't his pretend daughter.

The problem is, of course, that every single time Marinette is expected to get the lion’s share of the sympathy. She's top priority. That's why the show focuses on her perspective over everyone else’s. When we only see her chaotic feelings and her guilt over her missteps, while her victims give us silence or an “I’m okay!” it does make it feel like she's the one who was hurt by her mistake most of all. It's incredibly unhelpful as a moral lesson because it doesn't teach you to take others’ feelings into account. How could it when they're never shown or named? It only teaches you to look at the projection target’s emotions, your emotions.

‘Gamer’ is actually such a good example of how Miraculous’ writing approach injures the storytelling and muddies the messaging. “Don't publically upstage your friend and classmate in the hobby he’s passionate about, not because it's important to him and, as his friend, you should be supportive, but because, if you do, you might feel bad.” No wonder big parts of the fandom still think Max did something wrong in the episode, even though it was actually very mature of him to get away from Marinette, a friend who hurt him, so that he wouldn't lash out and say things he didn't mean before he calmed down because he has a right to be upset when someone he considers a friend does that to him. Max was far more mature in that episode than our main lead, who got rewarded for doing the bare minimum to make up for her thoughtless action at the last possible moment. Instead her stans have been using this episode as an example of “Marinette being punished for Max being a poor loser” for nearly a decade.

[maretinelli]

F1 SIMULATOR

Lando Norris X fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n accompanies Lando to McLaren headquarters for his training, and at the end of the day he teaches his girlfriend how to drive an F1 car on the simulator.

Words: 2.7K+

Warnings: Cute, mentions of engineering course, teasing and some parts that can be suggestive haha I think that's it.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And you can also request stories on my profile.

MASTERLIST

The car pulled smoothly into the parking lot of McLaren's headquarters in Woking. The overcast grey sky heralded the approaching storm, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning streaked the horizon. Inside the car, Y/n gazed out at the damp, cold British landscape as Lando switched off the engine.

He turned to her with a soft smile, his hand resting lightly on her thigh.

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" He asked, his voice carrying a tone of concern. "If you want, you can join me in the conference room. I don't mind having my girlfriend around while we discuss numbers and strategies."

Y/n smiled, her gaze shining with affection.

"I'll be fine, love. Besides, Oscar said he's bringing Lily, and the two of us will be able to talk. We probably won't even notice you're gone."

Lando arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "You didn't even notice we were gone? So you two prefer each other's company to ours? I'm starting to feel shortchanged."

Y/n laughed and quickly replied: "Well, you're the ones who leave us out with these meetings and simulators. We're just creating a plan B."

He laughed and, without answering, got out of the car, walked around the front of the vehicle and opened the door on her side, extending his hand. Y/n took his hand and got out of the car, feeling the damp cold of the weather.

"Thank you, sir." She teased, giving his hand a light squeeze.

The two began walking side by side, hands intertwined. The wind ruffled Y/n's hair, and she looked up at the sky again.

"Looks like this rain is going to ruin our plans to go out tomorrow." He commented, watching another bolt of lightning cross the dark clouds.

Lando snorted. "I know, I was excited to go out and check out that restaurant, but with this weather..." He grimaced. "I guess we'll just have to stay stuck inside the hotel watching movies."

Y/n feigned discouragement. "Wow, how boring... Spending the day cuddling watching movies with you. How am I going to survive?"

"You're terrible." He chuckled and gave her a quick kiss on the temple.

Further ahead, near the entrance to the headquarters, Oscar and Lily were already waiting for them. The Australian girl smiled when she saw Y/n approaching, while Oscar waved to Lando.

"Wow, Piastri, how did you manage to get here on time?" Lando joked as he greeted his friend with a quick hug and a pat on the back.

Oscar rolled his eyes but replied with a smile. "Lily wanted to come early so she could have more time to talk to Y/n while we're stuck in meetings. I just obliged."

Y/n laughed, and Lily lightly slapped her boyfriend's arm.

"And why is he complaining? Better that than hearing me talk about how I didn't get a chance to talk to Y/n all night!" Lily countered.

Y/n laughed and pointed at the Australian. "See, Oscar? I'm your girlfriend's entertainment."

Lando sighed dramatically.

"You two look like a couple, and we're just the jilted lovers."

Y/n smiled in amusement, putting an arm around Lily's shoulders. "Sorry, boys, but we have a bond that you'll never understand."

The pilots laughed, and Lando squeezed his girlfriend's hand while Oscar pulled Lily closer. They walked together to the entrance of the headquarters, the two of them immersed in conversation about the day's agenda, while Yin and Lily talked about the college course they were taking.

"I'm still struggling with fluid dynamics." Lily commented. "Do you have any tips? I swear this professor is doing it on purpose to confuse us."

Y/n smiled. "Believe me, when I took this class, I thought I would never survive. But I can give you some summaries that saved me."

Once they entered the headquarters, it was time to part ways. Lando turned to Y/n, holding her hand.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" He asked again.

She smiled.

"Yes, love. I have Lily to keep me company. The one who might end up bored is you, in that boring meeting."

"I'll run out soon and see you again." He leaned over and kissed her cheek before pulling away.

Oscar and Lando headed to the meeting wing, while Y/n and Lily walked to the headquarters' large winter garden. The space was wide, full of comfortable armchairs and a panoramic view of the trees wet from the fine drizzle that was beginning to fall.

"Lando takes such good care of you. You can see it in the way he looks at you."

Y/n smiled, feeling her face heat up a little. "Yeah... We've been together for four years and it feels like we're still on an endless honeymoon."

"That's rare. But you two are perfect together." Lily smiled fondly.

Y/n just smiled, looking at the gray sky as she felt her heart warmed by the presence of the one she loved.

They spent most of the time talking about their universities, discussing assignments, exams and the challenges of the mechanical engineering course. Lily took the opportunity to ask for some tips on more difficult subjects, while Y/n shared her experiences from her last year of college.

Between one conversation and another, they also talked about their boyfriends' races, commenting on recent performances and some funny stories from the paddocks.

Meanwhile, Lando and Oscar were stuck in endless meetings, listening to strategy, planning and technical discussions about the season's car. Then, they moved on to the fast practice sessions in the simulator, where they could finally relax and compete against each other for a few laps.

After hours of talking, Y/n and Lily were now in an area where some old McLaren Formula 1 cars were on display. They walked slowly, observing the details of the historic models, but so immersed in the conversation that they didn't notice that Lando and Oscar had already left the meetings and the simulator.

They had both sent messages saying they were free, but neither of them even looked at their cell phones.

The McLaren drivers were walking through the corridors, looking for their girlfriends. Lando was looking around with a certain urgency, and the Australian didn't miss the chance to tease.

"You look like a dog looking for its owner."

Lando rolled his eyes, but laughed. "And you're like a parrot commenting on everything I do."

Oscar laughed out loud, shaking his head. When they turned a corner, they finally found them downstairs, still deep in conversation and laughing about something. Lando smiled automatically when he saw her, and Oscar did the same when he looked at Lily.

The two looked at each other and laughed.

"Look at us..." Oscar commented, still laughing. "Smiling like idiots at our girlfriends."

"What can we do? We're romantics." Lando shrugged, laughing.

Without wasting time, they went down the stairs, but as soon as they stepped onto the lower floor, Lando ran a little and hugged Y/n from behind, making her startle and quickly get out of his arms.

"Oh my God!" She turned around reflexively, ready to react, but as soon as she saw it was him, she smiled. "Lan! I almost hit you thinking it might be someone else!"

He laughed, pulling her back into his arms. "If it were anyone else, I'd help you beat him up myself."

Y/n laughed and hugged her boyfriend back, feeling Lando rock them a little from side to side playfully.

"How were the meetings and the simulators?" Lily asked, looking at her boyfriend.

"I for one nearly died of boredom!" Lando made a dramatic expression.

"He almost fell asleep in the middle of one part." Oscar laughed.

"LIE!" Lando protested. "I just closed my eyes for a second."

"Thirty!!" Oscar says.

Y/n laughed and teased, "You don't have the patience for long meetings, love. That was to be expected."

Lando rolled his eyes, but laughed along with the others.

Oscar then looked at his watch and sighed. "We need to go, we have a reservation at a restaurant and we're already late."

Y/n broke free from Lando's embrace and pulled Lily into a tight hug. "Enjoy!"

"See you later!" Lily smiled.

Y/n waved at Oscar, who waved back before walking away hand in hand with Lily.

Lando and Y/n watched the two walk away, and then she turned back to look at the old McLaren cars. She ran her hand delicately over one of the panels and commented.

"It's incredible to see how the technology of these cars has evolved over the years. Every detail, every aerodynamic change... Everything has a direct influence on performance."

Lando watched her with an admiring smile.

"I think it's so cute when you talk about cars like that. I can see how much you love the course you're taking."

Y/n smiled, and before she could respond, Lando pulled her into a kiss.

The touch was gentle at first, their lips meeting in a calm, almost exploratory way. Lando held her face gently, deepening the kiss little by little. Y/n felt her body relax against him, her hands sliding to the back of his neck as she enjoyed the moment. The kiss was enveloping, slow, but full of affection, as if it were a silent way of showing how much he loved her.

Lando pulled back a little, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"I have an idea. Come with me, love!"

Before Y/n could ask what he had in mind, he grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the hallway.

"Hey, where are we going?" She asked between giggles, trying to keep up with his hurried pace.

"You'll like it!" He looked back and smiled.

Norris climbed a few flights of stairs, pulling Y/n by the hand excitedly. They passed through a few corridors until he stopped in front of a door with the sign 'Simulator' written on it.

He opened the door and let her in. The room was large, with soft lighting, screens scattered around, and in the center, a professional Formula 1 simulator. The black and orange McLaren cockpit glowed under the lights, with a steering wheel full of buttons and a screen on the dashboard.

Lando closed the door and smiled mischievously. "I'm going to teach you how to drive a Formula 1 car."

Y/n widened her eyes and walked towards him, who was already fiddling with the simulator's settings.

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

"Not at all." Lando laughed.

She let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I’m about to destroy a virtual McLaren car.”

Lando made a funny face and shrugged. "Not a problem."

Y/n chuckled softly.

"What if someone comes here?"

"It's okay, I'm an expert at getting out of awkward situations." He winks at her and Y/n laughs, remembering how her older brother once caught them alone at home making out, right at the beginning of their relationship and Lando gave a cheap excuse, but it worked. "Now come on, love! Sit here!"

Lando adjusted the seat for her, adjusting the steering wheel and making sure everything was in the right position. With each adjustment, he got closer to her face, and Y/n smiled at the corner of her mouth.

He noticed and leaned in even closer, just inches from her face.

"Why are you smiling like that, huh?" He asked provocatively.

"Nothing, nothing." She blushed and laughed, looking away. Y/n touched the steering wheel, feeling the texture and analyzing the details. "This is much more complex than it looks!!"

"It's very realistic. You can feel every detail of the track, even the bumps." Lando smiled.

"What if I get it all wrong?" She hesitated.

"You won't make any mistakes, my dear. I'm here to teach you!" Lando smiled lovingly at her and then began to explain the basic buttons, how to brake and accelerate correctly. "I'll set a quiet track to start, how about Silverstone?"

Y/n nodded, and Lando finished the adjustments. He stood behind her seat, his hands on the back.

"Ready?"

"I have no idea."

She accelerated too hard at the start, and the car spun around the first corner. Y/n groaned in frustration.

"Well, I think I was born to be an engineer, not a pilot."

Lando chuckled. "If it's any consolation, even I've done that in real life." He leaned down and kissed her head.

Y/n laughed, took a deep breath and continued. She was in last place on that first lap, missing turns and crashing into other cars, but Lando laughed at every comment she made while still encouraging her.

"Damn, I'm such a bad driver! How did I get my driver's license?"

Lando laughs and strokes her hair. "It's different, love. That's why you're getting errors in the simulator!"

With each mistake, he would lean in closer to correct something, purposely getting close to her ear to explain, or letting his lips lightly brush against her neck just to see her shiver. And that made him smile hugely, knowing that he still had that effect on her.

"If you finish a lap without spinning, I'll give you a prize."

"What kind of prize?" Y/n raised an eyebrow.

Lando smiled mischievously and got closer to her ear, brushing his lips a little on his girlfriend's neck until he reached her ear and said something extremely suggestive, making her smile big and blush at the same time, turning to look at the pilot.

"Now I really want that perfect lap."

"Alright. I'll make sure to do that when we get to the hotel then!" Lando laughed too.

Y/n improved, she still made mistakes and crashed, but she managed to gain some positions. Whenever she did something right, Lando celebrated and smiled proudly. Sometimes, he put his hands over hers on the steering wheel to help her with the curves, and Y/n smiled when she realized how much he was enjoying that little adventure. Even more so with the teasing.

As he watched her, Lando realized that even after years together, he still felt in love like a silly teenager. Every detail of her, every quirk, every laugh—he loved everything about Y/n.

"Calm down, love!!" In a sharp stop, he suddenly grabbed her waist, pretending to protect her.

Y/n laughed and turned to him. "Thank you for saving my life, my hero."

They both laughed, and she went back to driving.

When she realized she was falling behind, Y/n glances sideways and then tries to change something on the simulator's steering wheel discreetly.

"Are you cheating?" Lando places both hands on her shoulders.

"Me? I don't even know how to use it." She feigns innocence, placing her hand on her chest and smiling sideways.

Lando chuckled, kissing her cheek.

After a few laps of spinning the car, hitting walls and nearly running over the simulator engineers while changing tires, Y/n finally managed to complete a decent lap. In last place, but without incident.

"YOU DID A LAP WITHOUT SPINNING! AMAZING!" Lando jumps up and raises his arms, as if she had won a GP.

Y/n laughed so hard she laid her head on the steering wheel. Completely ignoring the laps I still had in the simulator to complete the race.

Lando, excited, picked her up from the bench and spun her around in the air.

"AHH!! LAN!!" She let out a surprised scream before laughing even harder, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. Feeling her heart swell even more with love for him.

He placed her on the floor and held her face before kissing her. It was a kiss full of pride and affection, with his lips moving slowly over hers, showing how happy he was.

When he walked away, he smiled. "I can have you fill in for me in some races now."

"Oh, of course!!"

The two laughed, but before they could say anything else, a McLaren employee walked into the room and frowned when he saw them there.

"You guys... what are you doing here?"

Lando was quick. "Oh, I was just testing a new simulator setup. Very important for the development of the car and eventually my girlfriend came along, she's a mechanical engineer and she had doubts about something."

"Ah. Okay!" The engineer nodded innocently and left the room. Closing the door again.

Y/n and Lando looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Hey, good excuse huh!"

"Isn't it? I'm really amazing!"

They exited the simulator still laughing, and Lando intertwined his fingers with hers, with Y/n resting her head on his shoulder, as they walked through the corridors.

The rain that had been threatening to fall since early finally began to beat against the windows of McLaren's headquarters, but Lando didn't seem to care. He looked at Y/n as if she was the only important thing there.

And for him, indeed, it was.

Author: When I had the idea I thought it would be really cool, but I ended up not liking the story very much. Sorry if it's bad😭