#it's the “i wanted this guy so much and he never wanted me back but someone else was here even if i never should have wanted him”

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Tweets from hors d'oeuvres (horse divorce) (@/ corviiid).

On Sep 4: anyway the real dichotomy in ace attorney is narumitsu who dance around being effectively married on the soulmate plane for 30 years before having a tearful revelation in the middle of a murder-conspiracy vs klapollo who are like wanna go on a date after work yeah okay sure

phoenix is alike apollo. take it from me, a married man. ur love life Will be torrid for 2 decades. 3 if u count the years when u were 8 and working out the connecting b/w homosexuality and court but it Will be worth it. apollo is like klavier is bringing thai food to my apartment

On May 12, 2019: judge: well then, mr wright? what is this decisive evidence? phoenix: (this is it... i can't afford to get this wong!) phoenix: Take That! everyone: ... ... ... judge: this is your wedding ring phoenix: yeah. miles please help edgeworth, standing at the opposite bench:

On Nov 5, 2021: kay: you gotta put yourself out there mr edgeworth i mean you never know! mr right could be just around the corner edgeworth: ? no, it's a work day. he'll be in his office downtown. kay: what? edgeworth: what?

On Sep 7: klapollo. is so good and so funny. diva rock-star prosecutor who is like human form of the concept of vtubers. net worth of a small nation state. has his own barbie doll. dating: man who has invented a category called "most normal person on earth" and is trying so hard to win it

apollo is like klavier i cant date you i would feel guilty if we were dating but i didnt support you by watching you new reality/lifestyle show but i cant because it's on at the same time as the local news and i have to write the forecast in my pocket notebook every night

klavier is like ach i understand boyfriend forehead. you are too insecure to join me on the red carpet. i assure you that everyone will find your suit that you bought from target as charming as i do and apollo is like no i know that

On Aug 30: thinking about phoenix wright getting his badge back after eight long years and immediately taking on a case without checking who his client is and then when he finds out his client is an actual fucking orca he's like Aw brother. Golly gee. Well this might as well happen

On Oct 12: trucy, mouth full of pocky: so you'd think klavier is the cool one in the relationship but actually he get excited about well drafted contracts. it's not him phoenix letting trucy give him a pedicure: so it's apollo? trucy: no phoenix: well, that's all the options trucy: yeah

On Jan 21, 2020: naming one child kristoph and one child klavier is really like going these are my two cats this one is named geoffrey and this one is named placemat

On Sep 5: does anyone remember that one tumblr post about what if there was an anime where every episode is the protagonist dodging the first episode of another anime because she wants to be just some guy. realising that that's apollo justice

orphaned when his father died in a fire and mother disappeared and lost her memory? that's just how it is, won't look into that. raised in a foreign country by a guy who becomes an infamous insurgent? don't want to talk about it. will never bring it up. i want to be a solicitor

On May 3, 2021: phoenix becoming an attorney to see miles again proving he's been thinking about miles for 15+ years and never stops and then in investigations miles proving that he thinks about phoenix like eight times a day every time anything happens but never by name that's too intimate

just a whole ass relationship of miles microwaving a lasagne and thinking This microwave lasagne, once so cold, is now warm to the touch. Much like my heart, which was changed by... that attorney

maya voice That's why you bought out the grocery store's entire supply of bratwurst? To meet Edgeworth?! and then edgeworth doesn't even like bratwurst

halfhearted bratworth joke

(miles edgeworth tripping over a crack in the sidewalk) That's right... I could have fallen so much farther if I had not been caught by a certain /End ID]

in honour of twitter violently lowering itself into a pit of lava, i’ve started saving some of my favourite tweets from my twitter account in case it all goes down. i guess i’ll start posting them here on tumblr in chunks - the ace attorney ones go here, though i know i haven’t been all that active lately!

this is also a heads up that i’ve made a new general blog @corviiids for all the yammering that’s been on twitter up until now. if you’re INTERESTED in yammering, you’re very welcome to come over and follow me there too.

[capquinn]

quinn would be soo caring and patient during your pregnancy like never getting upset when mood swings occur because he knows how much of an experience pregnancy can be

i fear i'm genuinely in love with my quinn, guys. like it’s bad 😭😭 no man is ever gonna compare to this

You feel it bubbling up before it even happens — the frustration, the inexplicable annoyance, the sudden, irrational urge to cry for absolutely no reason at all. You can’t even pinpoint what’s set you off.

Maybe it’s the sound of the spoon clinking against the bowl as Quinn rinses it in the sink. Maybe it’s the way he’s standing there, completely unbothered while you’re simmering, his broad back turned as he hums under his breath, so at ease when you feel anything but. Maybe it’s just him, existing, breathing, not reading your mind.

And when he glances over, all soft eyes and casual concern, and asks, “you okay, sweetheart?” — you snap.

"Do I look okay?” you bite, crossing your arms, tension coiled tight in your shoulders.

Quinn blinks. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t huff or roll his eyes, just pauses — tea towel in hand, brow furrowing like he’s flipping through a mental checklist of things he might’ve done wrong. He’s scanning your face, looking for an answer, and it makes you even more annoyed because there is none.

You exhale sharply, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you mumble, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat. “I just —”

The frustration builds, your breath catching, and Quinn is already moving.

"Hey," he murmurs, closing the space between you, voice gentle but steady. He doesn’t touch you yet, just keeps his voice low and sure, like he’s smoothing over the edges. "What’s going on?"

You shake your head, throat tight. “I don’t know.”

And that should be frustrating, should be confusing, but Quinn just nods.

"Alright," he says simply. "You want to sit down? Maybe drink some water?"

You glare at him. “I don’t need water, Quinn.”

“Okay,” he agrees easily, tipping his head, completely unfazed. “You want me to sit with you? Rub your feet?”

You let out a watery laugh, because of course that’s his response. Not irritated, not defensive — just quiet patience, just Quinn. He’s so steady, so calm, and it makes the knot in your chest snap. Your eyes burn, and before you can stop yourself, a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek.

“Oh, baby,” Quinn murmurs, warm and soft, already cupping your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “Talk to me.”

You sniff, gripping the front of his hoodie. “I was mean to you just now.”

His lips twitch like he wants to laugh but knows better. “No, you weren’t.”

You were, but okay.

You let out a long sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest. “I just feel off. And I don’t know why. And it’s so stupid.”

Quinn exhales against your hair, his hands smoothing slow circles across your back.

“It’s not stupid,” he says, voice firm, certain. “You’re growing a whole human. Our human. You get to feel however you need to feel.”

And God, that just makes you cry harder. A fresh wave hits before you can even try to stop it, a tiny, broken noise slipping out as your shoulders shake. It’s ridiculous, you know it is, but the way he says it — "our human" — it’s too much. Too soft, too full of love, too Quinn.

He chuckles softly, not unkind, just fond, tipping your chin up so he can brush his sleeve across your damp cheeks. His thumb lingers, smoothing over your skin, and he smiles, dimples and all, like he’s got all the time in the world for this, for you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, letting it linger, smiling against your skin. “Saw that coming.”

“You’re laughing at me,” you grumble, lips wobbly.

“I’m not,” he says, even as his smile grows. “I just —” He shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just love you, that’s all.”

You sigh again, letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest. “Even when I’m mean to you?”

His arms tighten, hands spreading wide against your back.

“Even then.” A pause. “…But you’re never mean to me.”

You lift your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Quinn.”

His mouth twitches. “What?”

“You liar.”

His grin grows, shameless and affectionate, and he steals another kiss against your temple before murmuring, “c’mon, baby, let's sit down. Let me take care of you.”

[minorlyatfault]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 !

j. todd x f!reader

𝒮ynposis: jason todd is a yearner & a true lover boy. when he loves, he loves hard yet quietly. he doesn’t express his affection through grand gestures but through the little things▰remembering your favorite song lyrics, the exact shade of your favorite color, & writing love letters he’ll never send because he’s too shy.

even though he’s already in a relationship with you, he still feels the butterflies whenever you're around. during gotham’s chaotic nights, while patrolling the city, he finds himself missing your touch, longing for your presence. even in the middle of his hardest missions, his thoughts always drift back to you▰wondering what small gift he can bring home just to see you smile.

𝒲arnings : my 3 am writing, grammatical errors(?) separated povs of dear beloved jason & reader. backstory of mr. bugs bunny if u squint.

𝒩ote:

001: idea was from @/tiredtodd on tiktok!

002: I JAD TO REWRITE TGIS TWOBTIMES & TRIED SAVING IT INMY DRAFTS FOUR TIMES

003: ikindof hatetgis..

004: SAY MY MY NAME & EVERYTHING JUST STOPS.

005: thank u for 100 followers ongonfongong/srs/srs/srs/srs

gotham never sleeps.

nor does jason.

it’s been one of those nights▰the kind where criminals seem to crawl out of their skin to horrify citizens once more, where no matter how many heads he cracks, there’s always another fight waiting around the corner. his knuckles are sore beneath his gloves, guns being out of bullets, his ribs ache from a particularly nasty hit, & the sting of fresh cuts lingers across his skin.

still, none of that is what’s bothering him.

he sits on the ledge of a building, letting out a deep sigh, his view of the city blurred through smoky neon below. he should go back now, but he waits, holds his breath, looks down into the streets, limned in dim light, & stares & stares, & stares.

this weight in his chest is unfamiliar, yet so painfully recognizable.

he's always been the guy to carry his burdens alone, shouldering the consequences that comes with being red hood without complaint. but ever since you walked into his life▰sweet, soft, full of warmth in a way gotham could never be▰ things have changed.

his fingers twitch,& he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. he doesn't have to look. he knows.

a note.

one of several, in fact.

he writes them when the nights feel like they stretch into forever & when the silence weighs too much on his chest. little notes he can never possibly say to you. this note is no different. folded neatly, shoved between the worn pages of an old book carried around in the pocket▰words he'll never give to you, yet still can't let himself get rid of.

some people would throw anything they did that are considered embarrassing, but no, not jason.

"you looked cute today. i wanted to tell you, but i figured you already knew."

"i stole your lip gloss again. smells like blueberries. reminds me of you."

it's stupid, he tells himself. you're right there in his life. he sees you every day▰watches you hum to yourself while fixing your hair(sometimes he'd help by brushing your hair using his fingers), twirling a ribbon between your fingers(he'd also participate in this activity, claiming it to be “stupid” but won't refuse, not when you seem to enjoying yourself so much), picking out outfits with that soft, thoughtful expression he's come to love(you convinced him to match sanrio pjs once, he didn't rebuff the idea). you don't belong in the shadows like he does. you're all bows & butterflies, a contrast so complete it should have driven him away.

but it didn't.

it never could.

jason breathes, smoothing his hair with a gloved hand. he should go home. he should crawl into bed, let you fuss over his injuries, pretend he doesn't love the way your hands linger just a little longer when you patch him up.

instead, he finds himself moving▰leaping across rooftops, scanning the streets for something(other than crime). he's not even sure what he's looking for, only that the ache in his chest won't settle until he finds something to bring back to you.

it's a habit he's never acknowledged out loud.

some men bring their girls flowers. others bring chocolates, jewelry, grand gestures that scream their affections for the world to see.

jason todd?

he brings gotham to you.

not in the way it brings bloodshed and violence▰no, never that. but in the little things. trinkets he finds on his patrols, things that make him think of you. a pressed flower growing between the cracks of an old building. a charm bracelet abandoned in a crime scene alleyway.

once, he even found a small, tattered bunny plushie, barely holding together. he cleaned it up, stitched it as well as he could, & just put it on your dresser and left without saying anything.

you never asked him where it came from. you only smiled, kissed his cheek, & said, "he looks well-loved."

jason had to get out of the room after that.

tonight, he sees something that lines one of the fringes of crime alley▰a small street vendor selling handmade trinkets at barely subsistence living. most people don't even give him a glance anymore, being so wrapped up in their problems that they don't care.

there's a necklace resting among the clutter, the kind of thing he can imagine you wearing▰a small pendant in the shape of a crescent moon, subtle yet elegant. he doesn't think twice before pulling out a few crumpled bills(that is probably two times higher than it's price), handing them over without a word.

the vendor barely gets a chance to thank him before he's gone.

by the time he returns to your apartment it's late▰by two in the morning, or at least in gotham; all is quieter & yet not silently so. there is no point in knocking. he slips through the window, sliding in, again, moving silent as a phantom as he reaches the apartment's floor.

a view awaits to knock the air from his breath.

you sleep on the couch, all bundled up in that soft blanket. the tv hums away on the opposite side of the room, highlights light shadows on your face. on your lap lies a book open to one side, as though you had fallen asleep waiting for him to show up.

jason swallows, a warmth moving into his chest. his stomach▰no▰his entire soul feels warm.

he's gentle as he moves, settling beside you without waking you. his fingers brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. you stir slightly at the touch, murmuring his name in your sleep, & he bites back a soft curse, heart aching at how easily you trust him.

how easily you love him.

he never deserved someone like you.

yet, here you are.

by his side, as you call his name every now & then.

his eyes fall to the small bag in his hands, the necklace still inside. for a moment, he hesitates, deciding whether to give it to you now or wait until morning.

in the end, he puts it on the coffee table, placing it beside your book where you'll see it first thing when you wake up. a small note beside it, written in his messy handwriting.

"saw this & thought of you. sleep well, sweetheart."

he doesn't sign it. he doesn't need to.

you'll know.

jason settles back, his own exhaustion finally gaining the upper hand. he needs to get up, shower, take care of the bruises he's been pretending aren't an issue. but as you turn in your sleep, reaching instinctively for him, curling up closer to his side with a soft little sigh.

yeah.

he can spend a little while like this.

the clock on the wall ticks.

it's late.

too late.

you change positions on the couch, adjusting your blanket over your shoulders & looking at the clock once again. jason would have been back by now. you know not to worry. he has lived through worse nights, fought against deadly criminals, walked away from things that would kill another man. yet still, a sense of anxiety clings to you, curling inside your stomach like a knot that feels like it's squeezing your insides.

with a sigh, you again let your eyes fall back to the book in your lap, fingers tracing the worn edges of the pages. it's one of jason's, a novel he left on the shelf ages ago & never reclaimed. you aren't even really reading at this point▰just skimming, letting the words blur together while your mind focuses somewhere else.

to him.

to the little things he does that he thinks you don't notice.

like how he keeps your hair ties even though he swears he doesn't.

or how he always makes sure there's an extra blanket on your side of the bed.

or▰your favorite▰how he writes things in his books.

you found it by accident, months ago. a dog-eared page in one of his old novels, words scrawled in the margins in his distinctive, messy handwriting. you thought at first it was just notes▰random thoughts about the plot, maybe something important he wanted to remember. basically him annotating.

but then you read it.

"she was humming today, while she made tea. low, silent. i believe that was that tune she is very much so partial to, that one she uses every time she is styling her hair. she did not appear to have been aware, but i did. i always am."

you had almost dropped the book, your heart flopping in your chest.

since then, you've turned it into a silly game. you pretend you don't notice the tiny notes he scatters around, but secretly, you live for when you stumble on them.

you know there is one in this book. you haven't discovered it yet, but just the idea of it makes you giddy, titter softly & warmth rising like a volcano about to erupt.

he doesn't even realize you know.

it's so jason▰loving quietly, loving deeply, but never really saying it outright. he'll not say one word on being away for that patrol but have you notice some folded paper with the message tucked into his jacket pocket while out doing laundry. he will never tell you, outright say it to your face that you're pretty, but he would watch you style your hair with gazes soft & lingering.

what is he writing tonight?

(something romantic, obviously.)

if he's sat atop some height of gotham, breathing between fights, scribbling thoughts of you into some old notebook while the city, loud.

"i miss her."

"i wish i could bring her here once to see this view."

"do you think she'd be angry with me for taking her lip gloss again? nah. worth the risk."

you are smiling at the thought, worrying in your ribs.

he'll be home soon. he always comes home.

the television, rapid of brightness, a bright glow over the room. your eyes begin to feel more heavy, the weariness of waiting finally settling into your bones. you tell yourself you'll stay awake, just a little longer. just until you hear the familiar creak of the window, the soft thud of his boots against the floor.

you never make it that far.

sleep pulls you down, the book slipping slightly in your lap, the soft sounds of the city fading into nothing.

you don't know how long you've been out when you feel it.

a shift in the air. the presence of someone near.

it doesn't surprise you▰not in the way that it should. instead, your body relaxes instinctively, as if it knows before your mind is quite awake.

a warmth beside you. a familiar scent. leather, gunpowder, the faintest trace of something you.

you stir, barely conscious, mumbling his name before you can stop yourself.

"jay..?"

a pause. a sharp inhale. then, a hand▰warm, calloused, careful▰brushing against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

you sigh at the touch, sinking into it even as sleep tries to drag you back down.

there's such a long silence before he talks, his voice quieter than ever.

"yeah, sweetheart. it's me."

you want to wake up all the way now, want to sit up straight & fuss over him like you always do. ask if he's hurt; ask if he's eaten anything; ask if tonight was one of the bad ones. but this exhaustion is heavy, pulling you down like an anchor.

you are barely aware of the way he shifts beside you, settling, the weight of his presence grounding you even into sleep.

you hear nothing in the end except the soft sound of something landing on the table▰the clinking of metal and the faint scratch of paper across wood.

& jason's whisper, barely loud enough to hear.

"missed you."

the sunlight arrives▰uninvited▰through the curtains & warms your skin as you blink awake. the tv remains on, a late-night movie in reruns, hanging precariously in the corner of your head.

the book has shifted slightly, now perched on the edge of the couch.

oh, & your beloved jason is still here.

he's half-asleep beside you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other resting loosely against his stomach. he looks tired▰more than usual▰but there's a peace in his expression that makes your heart ache.

slowly, careful not to wake him, you stretch▰only to freeze when your eyes land on the coffee table.

a small bag. a delicate necklace, its crescent moon pendant catching the morning light.

& a note.

your breath catches as you reach for it, fingers ghosting over the familiar, messy handwriting. jason's messy handwriting.

"saw this & thought of you. sleep well, sweetheart."

a smile tugs at your lips, warmth once again spreading through your chest.

you glance at jason, still asleep, still him.

& then, giggling softly to yourself, you reach for the book in your lap, flipping through the pages.

there’s definitely another note hidden in here somewhere.

& you can’t wait to find it.

"she keeps looking at me like that. like i’m something worth holding onto."

"she touches me like i won’t shatter. like i won’t ruin everything the second she gets too close."

"i don’t know how to explain it. it’s in the way she speaks to me, the way she laughs, the way she reaches for my hand without thinking. she doesn’t hesitate. not with me. no one's ever done that before. no one except her."

"i think▰"

there’s a pause. the sentence breaks off, like he wasn’t sure he should continue. like the truth was something too heavy to write down.

& then, softer, almost like an afterthought:

"she's too good. too bright. too much like the kind of thing a man like me should never be allowed to have."

"but gods, i want to.”

if jason peter todd isn't a hopeless romantic, then what is he?

© minorlyatfault, 2025

[plaidcowboy]

a lil smth for !guarddog!rafe love?

he’s so mean and so tough in front of ppl always glaring with those pretty eyes but the moment he’s with u in ur room after a long day of woe he switches up like he’s not the same rafe AT ALL

Tysm queen n love ur acc

୭‎ ‎ 𓈒 GUARDDOG!RAFE ゜✸ having another side when with you ❞ ❞

˙ ˳ ✱ love this ᵎᵎ and i so appreciate it pretty ‹𝟹 ˚ ゛ ° ✱ being rafe’s soft spot ⩩ meanie rafe ⩩ softie rafe ⩩ ˚ ゛ °

he could’ve moved the bone out of place with how quick and aggressively he moved his arm from the back of the couch when a girl grazed it. the girl in question flinched, turning back to rafe, having grazed his arm by accident. rafe mugged her, flinching right back. the girl scampered away . . good. his knee bounced as he scanned the room, not catching onto anything the people sitting around him were chatting about.

“rafe knows what i’m talking about.” no, no he doesn’t. rafe turned to the voice, raising his brow.

the guy chuckled, the noise fading off as he took in rafe’s face. “the . . some girls just don’t think. bump into people and don’t say anything.” rafe realized he was referring to the girl who just ran off from him. rafe shrugged, looking elsewhere, not being able to appear more uninterested than he was. “ jus’ don’t like being touched . . or looked at . . or talked to . . ” he looked back to the guy at the last part.

luckily, he took the sign and turned back to his friends, talking with them instead. rafe looked over the group in front of him, his lips pulling into a frown, eyes filling with disdain. who were these people anyway. he pushed from the couch, only taking a few steps away when someone stepped in his way. with no hesitation, he shoved the guy aside, continuing forward. he ignored the shouts of complaint behind him.

he had spotted the exit when he saw a glimpse of hair amongst the crowd in front of him. he immediately directed his path toward it. some shoved bodies out of the way later, rafe caught up to you. you noticed him first, smiling big up at him. rafe grasped your sides, pulling you closer to him, scanning you for anything off. seeing nothing, he moved his grip up to your face. “i am so glad you’re here” he murmured softly. you giggled, scrunching your nose at his relieved expression. he looked as if he just just been through it, and you were his calm.

then rafe realized where you were. he scrunched his brow at you, not completely upset, never being able to be upset with you. not with that pretty face. he glanced to the people near you. he doesn’t know these people. not okay. one of the guy’s gaze was lingering a little too long on you. not okay. he sneered at the guy, pulling you even closer to him. the previous annoyance he felt earlier came back less intense with you in his arms. he looked around for a door, grabbing your hand. he led you two to a random room where he closed and locked the door.

he turned back to you, grabbing your arms to place around his neck and burrowed into you. “baby, you know i don’t like you at parties, but i missed you so much and touching you right now is something else. how do you feel so good? i don’t even care, just don’t let go of me” he mumbled into your top.

you giggled, holding on tighter, per his request. “yes, sir” you responded jokingly. rafe groaned, pulling back to look at you. he quickly turned to nip at your arm next to his head, catching you by surprise and causing you to yelp. “rafe!” you laughed again as he stared intently at you. “i missed it, you had to do it again” he referred to your giggle that he didn’t see, head squished to your side and all. you showed teeth, making rafe chuckle at you.

“i wanna leave. i wanna leave with you. don’t wanna be here anymore. this place sucks. you can tell me who those people were and i’ll deal with them later. i want you, please.”

you giggled at his ramble, nodding your head before he finished. “okay, rafe.”

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

valentines day

jealousy ? miscommunication ? light angst

note: 2 more parts and then we're done !! crazy that i srsly started this jus when bad habit is coming up like WHAT pls someone tell me to chill.

//

jungkook slams his car doors and rushes through the hospital doors. 

he moves fast and swiftly, hoping that catching you at 5PM wouldn’t be too late. he weaves through the sterile hallways, pulse high in his throat. the bouquet in his hands trembles slightly, a contrast to his steady, calloused fingers. the bouquet is simple. it really hit him at the flower shop that he doesn’t even know your favourite colour yet. that sent him through a very mild (but still valid) panic attack. 

he chose to trust whatever the flouriest suggested (and what he felt was right).

white roses with dyed lilac baby’s breaths to fill he spaces between. the bouquet looks like something that belongs in your hands. it feels like too much and not enough all at once—it’s perfect.

as he gets lost in his thoughts, jungkook nearly collides with namjoon by the nurse’s station.

"jungkook?—what—" namjoon stares at him, then at his hands. "are you okay? why are you here? what are those?"

jungkook swallows, glancing at the flowers, then back up. 

"it's valentine's day," he says, breathless. "it's a long shot, i know... but i—"

his voice tapers off. 

from the corner of his eye, he catches sight of you stepping out of an on-call room. you’re stretching, arms lifting above your head, a small yawn slipping past your lips. he takes a step forward instinctively—only to stop cold when another figure emerges behind you.

the guy is close. closer than jungkook wants. almost as close as he has ever been to you. the mans head dips low, murmuring something in your ear. and you—

you laugh. 

easily, effortlessly. 

something warm and unguarded. something real.

jungkook's fingers tighten around the bouquet, stems pressing into his palm. 

fuck, he thinks to himself. that’s unfair. 

it's so fucking unfair. 

getting you to smile is hard enough. he’s spent months chipping away at the walls you keep up, collecting crumbs of your attention like a starved man, and here that man with the same white coat and navy blue scrubs is, making you laugh like it’s second nature… like it's easy.

namjoon shifts beside him, following his gaze.

"that's doctor min yoongi," namjoon offers after a beat. "he and doctor ___ have been working on a case together. he's in peds—his four-year-old patient has been having really bad seizures."

jungkook forces himself to blink, to breathe. "is the kid doing okay?"

"yeah. the kid is in good hands. those two are a good team."

"yeah?" jungkook croaks, his voice coming off sharper than intended. "are they… dating?"

namjoon shrugs. 

"dunno," he answers jungkook simply. then, namjoon’s pager beeps. he checks it before patting jungkook’s shoulder and excusing himself. soon, namjoon disappears down the hall. 

yet, jungkook barely notices namjoon leave. 

because now, you’ve spotted him.

your eyes meet his, and for a split second, he wants to convince himself that something flickers across your face—surprise, maybe. something softer. something for him.

want?

he should leave. 

he should turn around, toss the bouquet in the nearest trash bin, pretend this never happened. but before he can, you’re walking toward him, feet moving quicker the closer you get.

he grips the bouquet tighter.

"hey," you greet him sleepily. "are you in for something today?"

jungkook wants to be cheeky. he wants to tease you, to get your attention, to keep it. he wants to press his forehead against your shoulder and breathe you in. he wants to kick the floor like a child, ball his fists, demand you look at him the way you just looked at yoongi.

instead, he clears his throat. 

"no," he admits. "it's the 14th."

"it is."

"happy valentine’s day."

you huff a small laugh. "happy valentine’s day. are those for—"

"you."

your eyes widen slightly. "me?"

"you."

he thrusts the bouquet forward, watching as you take it, fingers brushing against his. the touch is fleeting, barely there, but it makes something in his chest clench.

then—

"what's this?"

yoongi.

his presence is sudden and unwelcome (to jungkook). he stands just a little too close, his voice warm, his smile easy. jungkook watches, stiff, as yoongi extends a hand.

"hi, i'm yoongi. are you—"

"he's namjoon's patient," you answer before jungkook can. "i covered joon’s shift, like, six months ago and treated him."

yoongi nods, humming. before he can say anything else, his pager beeps. a second later, yours does too. 

jungkook hates this. it feels so slow and painful. why does it feel like this? why does he suddenly feel like shit? is this even… jealousy? it doesn’t feel like it. 

no. 

it just feels like he’s losing. 

defeat.

"shit," yoongi mutters, glancing at the screen. "take your time with…?"

"jungkook," he completes yoongi’s sentence. for some reason, it comes off sharp and dry. even you notice because you look at him questionably. 

"jungkook," yoongi repeats, offering a small smile. "nice meeting you. see you in a bit, ___."

yoongi places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. you smile at him and murmur; “see you.” then, yoongi walks off. once he’s out of sight, you exhale, turn and tap the bouquet against jungkook’s arm gently. he looks at you and for a moment, you feel like the world shifted.

this is the first time you're face to face with him with no bruise or scrape. his hair looks freshly showered and he's in a black hoodie that makes you wonder if you'd look good in it.

shit.

he's fucking handsome.

"hey," you start, hesitating. you tone is soft and comes off as a whisper to him. jungkook knows what you're about to say and braces himself for the goodbye. "i gotta go and catch up with him. there's this kid—"

"yeah," jungkook cuts in, forcing a grin. "go."

you smile at him and hesitate again. it’s weird… it’s like you want to do something—hug him, maybe, or reach for his hand. instead, you swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. though you said you have to leave, your body stays still. 

like it’s waiting for more of him. 

just as you’re about to reach for him, jungkook cuts the silence with words you didn’t expect him to say.

"i thought you said you don’t date doctors."

jungkook doesn’t know why or how they slip out of his mouth. they just do. truthfully, he struggles to figure out if this was the wrong move… but it’s too late. he has to commit to it now. 

you blink, lips parting slightly.

jungkook steps back. "you know what? i gotta go too. happy valentine’s day, ___."

"wait, jungkook—"

but he’s already turning. already walking away, steps fast, jaw tight, heart twisting in a way he doesn’t know how to name.

5 minutes. that's all he got with you today.

is that all he'll ever get? is this it? is this the closest he'll be to you? just a patient—not even yours. namjoon's patient.

fuck.

jungkook hisses as he exits the hospital. he gets into his car and grips the steering wheel tightly as he starts the engine and drives back to the ring.

and you stand there, confused and annoyed at yourself…

partly because you didn’t even get the chance to say thank you for the flowers and partly because you can’t believe the bouquet is lilac. 

your favourite colour.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Epilogue

Masterlist Word count: 2.3 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: That's it guys. Thank you so much for reading and all the sweet comments. I've had a blast writing this story<3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'So tell me, Rafayel, did you actually set them up,' Zayne asks with a smile as he looks at the happy couple. Rafayel frowns at him. 

'No. Why would I want them to move in together? That's less rent money,' he says in an annoyed, whiny voice. But then he sighs and rolls his eyes, making his annoyed façade a lot less believable. 'I guess they look good together though.' 

'That they do,' Zayne agrees, smiling as he looks at the happy couple entering the ballroom together. 

Today, he had had the great honor of being your best man with Tara by his side as your bridesmaid. He doesn't think he's ever been prouder than he was seeing you walk down the aisle in your beautiful wedding dress with your hair and makeup all done up and the biggest smile on your face.  

It became even more beautiful when he heard the softest sob coming from the man standing there waiting for you. Tears of joy freely flowed down his cheeks as he wore a smile as big as yours. 

He's glad you've found your forever person and couldn't be happier for you. He gets to watch you grow happier and happier each and every day, gets to see you with a partner that allows you to be yourself fully and give yourself fully without taking too much. By now, he loves Sylus like a brother and can't imagine his life without him. 

As he watches Sylus and you sway over the dance floor, your first dance as husband and wife, it brings a tear to his eyes. When the song ends, you approach him with outstretched hands. He takes a quick peek behind you at Sylus to check if it's okay. Sylus nods with a calm smile as Zayne takes your hand. Together, you sway across the dance floor with Sylus gentle eyes on the both of you, smiling contently. 

'Zayne, I don't think I can ever thank you enough for everything you've done for me, for us, but still... Thank you.' 

'I'd do it again a million times to see you happy.' You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. He looks over at Sylus, who is still happily looking at the two of you. It is truly a gift that you two managed to end up together like this. The happiness that has been granted to you is a gift from the gods, truly. He can only hope he'll find something like this for himself. 

'Remind me to introduce you to one of my colleagues,' you say with a cheeky grin, 'I think you'll like her.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Wait, stop,' you giggle, pushing Sylus off you. The man has been leeching on your neck ever since people started leaving. He pouts at you but lets you do what has to be done. Which is unlocking the door to your shared apartment. When you push the door open, he picks you up and you squeal. 'What are you doing?' 

'Carrying my bride over the threshold,' he states proudly as he walks into the apartment. He closes the door with a kick and carries you straight to the bedroom where he gently puts your back on your feet. 'Would you grant me the honor of taking off your dress?' 

'If you promise me we'll take a shower after.' His pout reappears. The man was banking on something else happening, but you have been in a heavy dress all day and you truly want to wash the day away. It was beautiful and a memory that you'll never forget, but you can almost feel your skin itch under your makeup. 'Please?' 

'Anything my wife wants, my wife gets,' he agrees and walks around you to busy himself with the beautiful pearl buttons on the back of your dress. 'You were enchanting today. Truly in my top five of your most beautiful moments.' 

'Top five? Is it even number one?' 

'No, number one will always be when I woke up with you after we finally had the talk. But it's a good number two.' You giggle as you feel his hands gently work your buttons. Each inch of freed skin is kissed lovingly. 

'What are the others?' 

'Five is when I saw you for the very first time. I was having a terrible time setting up my apartment and you came over with that bottle of whiskey.' You let out a chuckle. 

'You were so rude to me.' 

'I was, but you were beautiful. Even if you did look annoyed,' he adds and continues his list, 'number four is the first time you let me eat you out.' Another chuckle leaves your lips, but then you feel his hands on your hips as he kneels down onto the floor. 

'And number three will be waking up with you tomorrow. The first time waking up with you as my wife,' his voice sounds a little wobbly. When you look over your shoulder, you can tell he has tears in his eyes. With the last button undone, you turn and kneel on the floor with him, taking his face in your hands. He instantly leans into your touch, eyes closing to focus on the warmth you spread through his body. 'I could've never imagined we would've made it this far if it hadn't been for your stubbornness.' 

It almost sounds like a joke, but he means it wholeheartedly. 'And I would do it again and again, a million times if I have to, if that means I get you as my husband,' you tell him, not a trace of uncertainty in your words. His eyes open again and he looks at you, taking in your figure. The dress draping off your shoulders, your makeup so perfectly done, the honestly in your face. 

'I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but it must've been pretty damn good,' he tries to joke, but a tear slips out. Your thumb wipes it away and you lean in to press a kiss on his lips. It's searing hot, a burning promise to stand beside him whatever may come next. 

As lips part, he seems much better. You smile and get up from your knees, offering him your hand. 'Now, I think it's about time we consummate this marriage.' He takes your hand and gets up, pressing a kiss on your cheek. 

'Sweetie, I know you're tired. Let's just take a shower.' 

'Fine,' you pretend to be annoyed, but he sees right through it. 'I'm waking you up with a blowie though.' 

'If I ever say no to that, shoot me.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Despite both being drained from the wedding, you talked for hours. About the past, the present, the future. Little things you hadn't admitted to each other, like Sylus secret love of Fleetwood Mac and your extreme love for- and fascination with sunsets. By the time you both fell asleep, it must've been three or four am. So you aren't really surprised that you wake up with the late morning sun bathing the whole room in a warm orange. 

However, you could've slept for much longer had it not been for a certain someone sucking hickeys on your thighs. With a sluggish movement, you pick up the covers and see Sylus between your legs. Each of his arms wrapped around a thigh, your underwear nowhere to be seen, and a cheeky grin on his lips when he meets your eyes. 

'I thought I said I was going to give you a blowjob.' 

'Well, the day is still young,' he rasps, his voice still full of sleep, 'and I intent to show my wife how much I love her first.' My wife. The words make his stomach tingle the same as they do for you. 

'Okay, but push the covers off. I want to see my husband.' 

'Yes ma’am.' He throws off the covers in one swift motion and plunges right into his breakfast. Right away, flattening his tongue against your clit and licking a thick stripe. Your back arches as you whimper his name. After that, there's no stopping him. 

He plunges two fingers into you and eats like a man starved, like he needs your pussy to stay alive. His fingers pump and curl deliciously inside of you while your body moves uncontrollably, only staying in place because of Sylus’ tight grip on your thighs. The room is filled with moans and whimpers of Sylus’ name. He revels in it. 

Before you know it, your orgasm washes over you. As you try to steady your breathing, Sylus moves from his spot which is slightly uncharacteristic for him. Usually, he tries to get you on the edge of a second orgasm first. 

'My beautiful wife, would you grant me the honor of fulfilling a fantasy of mine,' he asks between kisses as he makes his way slowly to your mouth, placing a loving kiss right on your lips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you. 

'And what would that be, husband?' 

'Remember that video in my bathroom of me jerking off?' You nod. 'That was the evening after the party. I heard you masturbating and I started imagining being with you. Holding you. I'd like to fuck you how I imaged I would.' 

'Is this something we need a traffic light system for?' He shakes his head. 

'No, none of that. I just want you to stay laying here, just like this and,' he gently lifts your legs until your feet are planted on his mattress, thighs far enough apart to allow space for him. He takes your hands and move them into the hair on the back of his neck. He spreads his legs, sitting on his heels as he gently lines his length up to your pussy. 'Is this alright for you?' 

A smile spreads across your face. This is nothing special. It almost makes you blush that he would imagine such a normal scene and get off so hard on it. You nod and pull on his hair. 'Fuck me, Sylus.' 

He slips in gently and leans closer to press his lips on yours, setting a gentle pace as he kisses you deeply. But you quickly get enough of the slow pace and pull his hair again to separate his lips from yours. 'Quicker, please,' you beg, looking desperate and longing for release. With a smile, he starts driving his length into you at a quicker pace. An orchestra of the little sounds you make fills the room once more. It's so much more beautiful than he imagined back then, so much more beautiful. Your eyes are focused on him and only him. 

'You're absolutely stunning, sweety,' he tells you as he leans closer, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders. Your hands slip out of his hair and onto his back, your nails leaving works of art on his back in despair. One of his hands leaves your body, moving between the two of you to rub your bundle of nerves, helping you closer to a state of ecstasy. 

'Sylus, you feel so good,' you manage to moan out, clawing your way as close to him as you possibly can. In response, he pulls you up into his lap and holds you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. 

Your moans become louder and you are so grateful the bedroom doesn't border on another apartment as you hear the bed creak pitifully. In a terrible attempt to silence yourself as you rapidly get closer to the edge, you bite down on his collarbone. He groans out your name in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The feeling tips him over the edge. 

His hands grab your hips so hard you're sure it'll bruise, severing you the same mixture of pain and pleasure to help you tip over the edge and fall into the abyss with him. Your teeth let go of his skin as you whole body shakes in pleasure. Sylus holds you close, his arms wrapping around your body like a safety net whilst his hips jerk up to help you ride through your orgasm. 

When he feels your shaking subside, he gently lays you down on the bed and slips out of you. A pathetic whine slips from your lips as your face contorts in disagreement, but all he can see is his beautiful wife. His absolutely perfect wife who is so willing to give herself to him. 

He lays down and snuggles up to you, arms wrapping around your body like they're meant to be there. 'You did perfect.' 

'Sylus?' He hums in response, eyes already closed again, ready for a nap. 'Can I say that I am absolutely flattered that this is what you thought of doing with me the first time you met me?' 

'You can, but do remember that I first fell for you because you were being a brat,' he retorts. There's a chuckle in the back of your throat, but you force it down and huff instead, pretending you're that bratty again. A rumbling laugh goes through his chest. 'I'm joking.' 

'You're really not.' 

'No, I'm not. I still love you though.' The biggest grin spreads on your face, basking in the bliss that this beautiful man loves you. It's something that you didn't see coming, but when you first saw him it hit you like a semitruck. You truly couldn't be happier than you are when you're with him and you hope you'll ever find the words to truly express that to him. 

'I love you too.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

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∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

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[illbegottenfaith]

kiss me better, love

as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK

tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns

The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.

"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”

“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”

Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.

“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"

"Hair."

You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."

"Mhm."

You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.

“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"

“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?

You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”

Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"

“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"

"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.

"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."

Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.

You pause.

“…what was that?”

Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”

You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.

“Theo.”

“I’m fine.”

Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.

“…no.”

Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”

“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”

“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”

“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”

“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”

Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”

“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"

Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”

“You don’t think before you do things.”

Theo groans. “I think plenty.”

“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”

“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”

“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”

Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”

“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”

"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "

"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”

“And you are reckless.”

“I don't need you to lecture me.”

“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”

A brief struggle ensues.

You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.

“For fuck’s sake -”

“Stop being so difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”

“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”

“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”

“Enough with the rushing!”

“I can't help it if you never learn - ”

“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.

There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.

“Oi - ”

“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”

“You stop grabbing- ”

“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”

“I am n- ”

“Then give me your hand.”

A long, heavy pause. Then -

“No.”

You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”

“And you are relentless - ”

But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.

“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”

Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”

“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”

He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”

“I told you to be careful - ”

“And I was - ”

“Clearly not enough!”

Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”

You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”

He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.

He stills.

The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.

You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.

His eyes flick to yours.

And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.

“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.

Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.

Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.

Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.

“You like this,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.

Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.

You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”

Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."

[maskedbyghost]

When Angels Fall

Hello, my lovely people! Ready for some soul-crushing angst? No? Too bad—send your tears via mail. Love you! Also, all blame should be directed to the anon who requested this. Okay, thanks, bye!

Simon never believed in angels.

The world was too cruel, too ugly for something as pure as that. Wings were clipped, halos were tarnished, and heaven felt like a myth told to children who hadn't yet seen the things he had. He knew better than to believe in fairytales.

And then he met you.

You were 141’s guardian in the sky, an airman with a reputation that preceded you. Your callsign was Halo. It fit, he supposed, given how you watched over them, weaving through the air with a precision that impessed him since the very beginning he met you.

Your voice, crackled through his comms during every mission, would guide them out of hell and back home. You kept them safe, and God, if you weren’t the calmest person he’d ever known.

But it wasn’t just the security you brought that got under his skin. It was you—your voice, your laugh, the way you could turn a routine check-in into something that made him feel less like a ghost and more like a man.

“Wheels up in ten, boys,” you’d say, and Simon would find himself smiling under his mask, comforted by just the sound of you.

He didn’t know how it happened—how you managed to slip past the walls he had spent years building. Maybe it was the way you read him like an open book, saw through his hard exterior, or how you never once pushed him for more than he could give. Maybe it was because you still spoke to him like he was worth saving despite all the blood on his hands.

He didn’t know how, but he fell. Hard.

And the most terrifying part? You caught him.

It started small. You’d read off mission briefings in that smooth, calm voice of yours, and he’d listen like it was scripture. Then, you’d tease him about his accent and call him ‘big guy’ over the radio just to hear his exasperated huff. He didn’t even mind—not really. He’d never admit it, but he liked it. He liked you.

And at some point, it wasn’t enough to hear you only on missions.

One night, after a brutal mission, he found himself restless, the heavy burden of the battlefield clinging to him. He didn’t think—just grabbed his radio and switched to your private frequency.

“You up?” His voice was rough, and you immediately knew that he wasn’t okay.

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle could be heard coming from your side. “Simon Riley, calling me just to talk? I must be dreaming.”

He should’ve played it off and made some excuse about mission reports or logistics, but instead, he said, “Can’t sleep.”

A moment of silence passed, and then you said, “Want me to read to you?”

He frowned. “What, like a bedtime story?”

“Exactly like a bedtime story.”

He should’ve said no. Should’ve shut off his radio and suffered through another sleepless night like he always did. But he didn’t.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright.”

And so you did. Some book you had lying around, something about stars and the vast, endless sky. He barely remembered the words—just the sound of your voice, soft and lulling—until sleep finally took him.

After that, it became a habit. Whenever the weight of the world became too much, he’d reach for his radio, and you’d be there, voice soft in his ear, pulling him back from the darkness in a way nothing else could.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone.

But, he should’ve known happiness like this wouldn’t last.

The mission was supposed to be routine. Get in, retrieve intel, and get out. Simple. Clean.

It wasn’t.

Everything went to hell fast. Some kind of ambush, a miscalculation on their part, and the enemy waiting for them like they knew they were coming. The ground team was pinned and cut off from their extraction point, and Ghost could hear the tension in your voice as you called for support.

“Hang tight, I’m coming in,” you promised, your aircraft screaming through the sky.

He had no doubt you would. You always did.

You swooped in, raining fire from above, giving them enough cover to push forward. For a moment, it worked. For a moment, he thought they might actually make it.

Then the missile hit.

The explosion was deafening—a violent burst of flame and metal as your aircraft took a direct hit. Ghost felt it like a punch to the gut, his heart lurching into his throat as your voice crackled through his comms.

“Mayday, mayday! I’m hit—controls are—fuck—”

The world slowed.

He could hear Gaz yelling, could see Soap moving, but all he could focus on was your voice, filled with panic and your breathing ragged as you tried—tried so hard—to stabilize.

“Ghost—”

And he knew. He fucking knew.

“Eject,” he ordered, his voice steady despite his whole body shaking from the shock. “Now.”

“I—”

A choked sound. Static.

And then—

Silence.

They found the wreckage hours later.

What was left of it actually.

The ground was scorched, metal twisted and blackened, and the smell of burning fuel filled the air around them. There was no body, just fragments of what had once been your aircraft, pieces of you scattered like shattered glass.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Just stared at the wreckage, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.

Price placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured something meant to comfort. He barely heard it.

All he could hear was your last transmission, looping in his mind like a broken record. Your voice—his anchor, his safe place—reduced to a desperate cry for help he couldn’t answer.

That night, for the first time in years, he reached for his radio and switched to your private frequency.

Static.

He closed his eyes, gripping the radio so tightly it trembled in his hands. He waited, hoping—praying—that somehow, against all logic, you’d answer.

But you didn’t.

You never would again.

And Simon never believed in angels.

Not until he lost one.

-------------------------------------------

gonna go hide now.

@daydreamerwoah

[elodieunderglass]

I hope your evening is better than your day was. ✨💫

In reference to me haggardly saying in the tags that after the day I’d had, everything (horrible things with legs) that my loved ones (you guys) were doing to heal me (send me horrible things with legs) was a help. And it was. And you are.

It was a tough old month already. But it’s all swings-and-roundabouts, snakes-and-ladders, win-some-lose-some, 🫴🫳.

I sleep about 9 hours in 48 at the moment, which is not especially great, owing to the Wretchedness of Mouse (2), a largely nocturnal animal. But then when Mouse is awake at Mouse o’Clock and quietly pottering around on Mouse Business, there isn’t much I can usefully do, so I’m just curled up with Dr Glass’s tablet, peacefully drawing Killie the jockey OC. As a result I’ve realised something massive for me, that my creativity is THERE, but fuelled by self-indulgence! Like, with stuff like fanfic projects and Killie, there was always a lot of “mental braking” on before, with me anticipating (based on evidence experience of posting my writing online for mumblety-many years) how much people would dislike it - put the brakes on, Elodie, we can’t let the haters know that we yearn. But hey, I started rambling on about fics and my own OCs, and YES it’s probably startling and annoying for some people and I do apologise, but ALSO you’ve all been very kind, and I think that it’s better for me to have the brakes off. 4 am takes notwithstanding, it’s better to have the brakes off. So what if I’m cringe and occasionally annoying - I have paid my dues and done my duties.

The new shed at the allotment blew down, but we have been forgiven for our carelessness in allowing it to happen, and two people on the committee have approached me with kindness - one committee member even stopping me in a shop to tell me, “people want to help you, Elodie, we’re your friends, you know.” Citation needed, but there you go.

Saturdays are always made especially for me dreadful by taking children to swimming lessons, on foot both ways, but usually we walk on to meet friends for coffee after. I go out with my friends and play board games with our neighbours and have learned how to play Wingspan.

Dr Glass received an official diagnosis of ME, but I bought a robot vacuum in the strength of that - saying, well, why assume things will ever get easier? Let’s get easy now! - and actually I really like having a robot vacuum!!

There have been more causes than I could help with, but my promotion has strengthened the coffers, so this month I’ve been able to donate to a few!

Due to childcare falling through, I had to take all three kids to an antifash protest in the cold and was dreading it - the walking, the whining, is it going to be awkward, i trust the organisers but HE’S not bringing his kids, GOD. But then my neighbour and her giant puppy came with us! on purpose! And we knew a lot of people there and the kids played.

I had to buy some clothes for work, and I never buy anything new (never having money) and was scared I’d get it wrong (stupid and weird) but I buckled up and bought these: https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/rosamoth-button-up-midi-skirt https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/swamplife-frog-embroidered-linen-blend-high-waist-midaxi-skirt

And it sounds bonkers, but the amount of people at work, etc, who have come up and instantly allied themselves with me on the strength of Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt has strengthened my convictions. Strongly recommend Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt and their emotional equivalents if you hit a stage of career where you need to suddenly level up.

I am thinking about counterweights. And kindness. And the balance of the turning world. And the light in the sky coming back. And, unfortunately, Killie, but he’s a counterweight too; sure, he’s awful, but we already know he contains the seeds of becoming okay.

As evidence suggests that many things do.

Thank you for your shining kindness, and my love back to you 💫

[neferaskingdom]

Valentine Hotline | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Running a Valentine’s hotline was supposed to be fun—until she accidentally helps Bob plan the perfect date… for herself.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

The last thing she expected to be doing this Valentine’s Day was running an anonymous emergency hotline for lovesick fools, but here she was—headset on, taking call after call, all in the name of charity. Her best friend had roped her into this, promising it would be “fun,” but so far, all she had done was talk panicked men out of buying last-minute gas station flowers.

Her latest call came in with a hesitant, almost nervous greeting. “Uh… hi. Is this Cupid?”

“That’s me,” she said, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculous alias she’d been assigned. “How can I help you, caller?”

There was a pause before he mumbled, “I need help asking out my crush.”

She smiled, already endeared. “Of course! What’s your name?”

A beat of silence, then—“Bob.”

She snorted. “Bob, huh? Okay, Bob, tell me about your crush.”

Bob sighed dreamily, and when he spoke again, it was with a kind of reverence that made her heart melt. “She’s amazing. Like, so cute, but not in a way that she even realizes. And she’s really smart—like, she remembers the smallest details about people, and she’s kind, too. Like, the kind of kind where she doesn’t even think twice about it, she just does things that make life easier for everyone around her. And she’s so funny, sometimes without even trying. I mean, she makes me laugh over the dumbest things. And—God, she’s way out of my league, but I really, really like her. It’s ridiculous how much I like her.”

Her heart melted. “That’s adorable. Have you spoken to her before?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “We work together, but I don’t talk to her a lot because… well, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid. I get irrationally shy around her.”

That piqued her curiosity. “Coworker, huh? What do you guys do?”

“I can’t say too much, or it’ll be obvious who I am,” Bob said quickly.

She nodded, intrigued but respecting his anonymity. “Alright, Bob. First things first, you need to start interacting with her more—test the waters, see how she reacts to you. Start flirting a little.”

“Oh God.”

She laughed. “Relax! I’ll help you. We’ll come up with a plan.”

And so, over the next few days, she helped Bob craft the perfect approach. They planned small conversations, little ways for him to test the waters—compliments, inside jokes, light teasing. He seemed enthusiastic yet nervous, but she assured him he was doing great.

Strangely, around the same time, Lando Norris—someone who had never gone out of his way to talk to her before—started showing up more often. He’d stop by her desk with a cheeky grin, making flirty comments that left her flushed. At first, she chalked it up to him just being friendly, but it kept happening.

“Looking good today,” Lando said one afternoon, leaning casually against her desk.

She rolled her eyes but felt her face warm. “Are you just going around giving out compliments to everyone?”

“Only to the pretty ones.” He winked, and she nearly choked on her coffee.

It was weird. But she couldn’t say she hated it.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, she was finishing up some work when Lando hovered nearby, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He shifted from foot to foot before finally clearing his throat.

“Hey, um… can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She turned in her chair, surprised by his serious tone. “Sure, what’s up?”

He exhaled, looking at the floor before meeting her eyes. “I… uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Like, on a date. For Valentine’s Day.”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment. “Wait. You’re asking me out?”

Lando winced. “I mean, yeah? But you don’t have to say yes, obviously, I just thought—”

She cut him off with a grin. “Lando, I’d love to.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The relief on his face was almost comical. “Oh. Oh, cool! That’s great. Okay, um, yeah, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He left looking a little dazed but incredibly happy, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

That night, Bob called her one last time.

“She said yes!” he practically shouted through the phone. “I asked her out, and she said yes!”

She grinned, heart swelling with pride. “Bob! That’s amazing! I told you she’d like you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, if—no, when—we get married, you’re getting an invite.”

She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Have fun on your date, Bob.”

“Thanks, Cupid. You’re the best.”

And with that, her hotline duties were done.

The next evening, she met Lando for their date, dressed in a pretty outfit and buzzing with anticipation. He looked a little nervous, which was unusual for him, but she found it endearing. The restaurant was charming, the table setup romantic—candles, her favorite flowers, the works.

She took one look at it all and hesitated. The setup felt oddly familiar. Too familiar.

The restaurant. The flowers. The exact order of events.

Her stomach flipped as a ridiculous but nagging thought entered her mind. She looked at Lando, who was focused on cutting his steak, completely unaware of her staring.

“This is going to sound weird,” she began slowly, watching his reaction, “but do you know someone named Bob?”

Lando’s knife froze mid-slice. His head snapped up so fast she thought he might get whiplash. “W-what?”

She gaped at him. “Oh my God. You’re Bob, aren’t you??”

Lando opened and closed his mouth like a fish, looking utterly horrified. “H-how do you—how do you know that?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I’m Cupid.”

Lando choked on his water, coughing as his eyes widened in horror. “No. No way.”

“Yes way,” she said, grinning at his absolute mortification. “I can’t believe I spent days coaching you on how to flirt with me.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m never living this down.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “Lando.”

He peeked at her between his fingers. “Yeah?”

She smiled softly. “So… all those sweet things you said about your crush… they were actually about me?”

Lando groaned again, face going bright red. “I—uh—maybe?”

She felt her heart flutter, warmth spreading through her chest. “That’s honestly the sweetest thing ever.”

Lando let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “You must think I’m such a loser. Calling a hotline of all things just to figure out how to ask you out.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “No. I think it’s endearing. You went out of your way to make sure you got it right. You wanted it to be perfect. That’s really, really sweet.”

He looked at her, expression softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Their dinner was filled with laughter and easy conversation, and by the time he walked her to her door, she felt lighter than ever. He hesitated on her porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, uh… goodnight?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “Goodnight, Bob.”

Before he could groan again, she kissed him, soft and sweet, smiling against his lips as he melted into it. When she pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

[beatlblog]

i hope john bullied him (via @themagicalmysticalboy)

“Oi Paulie... wha’s on yer fookin face then?”#I hope John made fun of him#god#wtf (via @starseeker95)

#HELP#paul god what was that phase (via @mrlennonmccartney)

#if john still wanted him while paul looked like that it was true love#john's taste was so varied and dubious that i don't put it past him at all#but what a downgrade bc john looked great (via @stewy)

#hot take: this is the reason john decided not to work with paul after all#'if your music sounds anything like how your mustache looks i want no part of it' (via @paulnnccartney)

Knowing john he was like never mind my love you look so cute😍🙈😂 (via @mclennongirl15)

#i cannot imagine what was going through johns head when he saw him looking like that (via @harrisonism)

#imagine this outfit being the reason the beatles never got back together#john was like i'm gonna need about 6 years to forgive you for this 😂 (via @whoscruffylooking)

It’s okay because that look is 💯 on my wife.#I love that horrible facial hair#that first time drag king look (via @winston-legthigh)

#I feel like this is how John expected fashion disaster Paul to shown up#imagine just looking hot and hanging out by a pool#that’s them! (via @asphalt-cocktail)

#I respect it tho (via @lennons)

#john was just like ‘finally the inverse of all those years where I was pining and you looked amazing’#it’s just such a bad look#what WAS he thinking#definitely not what he needed to be which was ‘I look a complete twat’ (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

2022

#the cunt paul is serving is like#fancy health food store cunt#but it's been expired for 3 years#it smells like fridge and patchouli and b vitamins and weed#john however is immaculate#god literally invented high waisted flares just for him#john and paul#my boygirlfriend john lennon#i would literally commit atrocities to know what john thought of how he looked here (via @wereonourwayhome)

#this actually changes everything i thought i understood about the 70s J&P vibe#also new questions arise about Paul's chest hair and the lack of it prior#only the important things#new podcast episodes#Paul's worst look and chest grooming#paul mccartney#john and paul#OH NEW HOT TAKE#this was 100% done intentionally to make sure they didn't bang#it was such a danger Paul took one for the team#and by took onei mean he prevented any taking from being done#dammit I'll probably write that fic#5 times John and Paul didn't bang (via @mydaroga)

#this is why he didn’t go to new orleans#:/ (via @goldslick)

SAD!

John Lennon, upon seeing Paul again in 1974 looking like that:

#john lennon#the beatles#shitposts#im sorry I thought of it then had to get it out (via @queerlennon)

#absolutely cursed#paul ruined his chances by choosing this moment to try a new form or drag that did NOT work for him (via @ahumoroussuggestion)

#absolutely dying#literally too much#the ultimate moment of seeing an ex who broke your heart after a few years and being like……oh#THAT’S who all the fuss was about???#(except from May’s account of that time it seems like the chemistry was still popping off somehow???)#which like talk about true love#being able to get past THAT#I kind of think that Paul was finding it fun to make himself look as gross as possible#relishing in it#after so many years of his looks being held up and scrutinized#to just be like oh yeah? watch this#kind of typical paulish rebellion (via @hands-across-the-skysky)

#divorce babe (via @pennielane)

#watching this post go through its villain arc has been such an experience great work guys#and by great work i mean im deleting tumblr (via @mystical-one)

He really has some balls, turning up like that.#mullet moustache and horrible thing on his chin#his fashion sense seemed to leave at the same time as Jane did#was he her Ken doll (via @beatlepaul4ever)

#honestly he still looks kinda hot#that wouldnt cure me (via @zutalorsihavemissedone)

Actually, it could maybe have been worse - he could have turned up with this look.

I can’t decide if it’s a real moustache or that horse face planted him in some muck. (via @beatlepaul4ever)

Why does he look like Paul Prenter? (via @bewareofdarkness)

#HBFJRBFHIRBFEKLFR#i think i would have just left#maybe that's why john thought he needed to be taken down a peg#'all you do is write love songs' like it was gonna hurt him#make him rethink his look#last time john hurt paul -- the man grew a beard (via @writertyper)

People ask why he didn’t go to San Francisco with him and the answer is this (via @yellowroombarine)

#this will forever make me mad at him#like this was the last photo documentation of them together#and that’s what he looked like#why (via bridgeoverstrawberryfields)

#REAL#FELT#some tiger king bullshit💀#I’m kinda with it tho💀💀 (via @iamsigningmylifeaway)

2024

#fr WHO lied to paul and told him this is a good idea (via @comradeharrison)

#as someone who thinks that 70s paul is the most ethereal indescribably beautiful person in the world#he looked soooo like shit during their reunion im ctfu#the dash of beard. horrifying (via @bugpoasting)

#if you genuinely think that John wasn’t absolutely attracted to Paul’s hillbilly porn star look than idk what we’re doing here#that sun tan and rat stache 100% did it for him (via @lennonsfag)

#I understand where everyone’s coming from but you’re LYING to yourself if you think John wouldn’t be into that#It’s Paul fucking McCartney he could show up bald with a beard down to his shoulders and John would get all hot and bothered over it#Paul has nothing to worry abt so why not pull up to the function looking like a porn star with the white Karen capri pants and all (via @iwannabeyourman)

#I’m sorry but he literally looks insane#mostly thag hair sticking straight up (via @sleeper9)

#I still think that's such a power move on Paul's part to be honest#Is he sliding his index finger into the fold his wraparound vest there?#“I know you want me. Even like this”#Paul's arm hair#Paul's...chest hair?#paul mccartney#Meanwhile John's showing off his hips bulge & thighs in May's jeans#they deserved each other (via @crepesuzette2023)

#i imagine he immediately got cured of homosexuality#if not... john please. put your glasses on (via @estrangedfiances)

#nooo he was so into it#his prissy princess suddenly looks like he’s into complete filth#john’s wildest fantasies suddenly seem possible (via @goldslick)

#and john was cured of his life long crush as soon as he opened the door#i actually hate that the bottom one is the last known picture of them together (via @the-electric-monk)

#ok i think this moon is hot i’m SORRY#like he looks so slutty he knew exsctly what he was doing#open shirt? gay little mustache? shoulder length shag?#the chest hair?????#paul was trying to ensnare him fr (via @gayyytripper)

#scream#once again mccartney was ahead of his time (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#when your ex shows up looking like a cartoon evil man (via @bambi-kinos)

#this is Kurtis Conner lmaooo goodbye (via @maelwife)

#I mean you know… I’ve grown partial to his pornstache and yes even the mullet#so idk probably I would still dig it (via @tenitchyfingers)

#tbh it’s not a bad look but it’s ugly when he does it (via @strangebrew)

only accurate take

#normally i run screaming seeing 70s paul#but this look?#*chefs kiss#what a power move (via @consulting--defective)

#john y paul#jp en los 70s#pues si (via @akamy08wt)

#did he dress like that on purpose with the goal of attracting or scaring him? we will never know#im soft for paul 70s mullet not so much for the moustche (on any period) but the clothess#mclennon#you cant have 67 without 74 last meeting (via @alienoriana)

#I've always kinda liked the mullet (yes yes something's wrong with me)#but I just can't get behind the mustache on him. I'm sorry#I kinda unironically want that shirt too#at least it has colour unlike most of the stuff people try selling you these days (via @chut-je-dors)

#i can tell u now i am infact a bisexual who is infact attracted to this look#hes committed to the bit (via @mcstarr)

#I don’t think I can get over that little bit on the chin#and the mustache too but yeah that’s where I just I don’t think I can but… put me and him in the same room and I might feel differently#cause of his energy#his physical presence (via @johnisonlysleeping)

#predicted bisexual twink fashion (via @therealestwizard)

#I think the Only downfall is the Kind of mullet here that type of mullet is out#it has to be just a little shaggier#but otherwise yeah this is just some dude at a club now (via @menlove)

#KURTIS LMAAOO#its actually kind of horrendous but i couldnt do any better (via @xtreme-cringe)

#and anyway we all know john would be totally into it dont kid yourselves (via @oldmanpusspuss)

#I could never transition because this is what I would slowly animorph into (via @asurrogateblog)

#it is still not a look and ladies pls know i will never eve date a man with this moustache and that shirt#but op. you aint wrong (via @phonybeatlemania)

#it’s called ✨️fashion✨️#what was 70s fashion even#“fashion” according to mccartney (via @lilywolfgray)

Can you imagine being John Lennon in 1974, and you’re about to see your ex-best friend/pseudo husband/songwriting partner for the first time in years, plus its a really big moment cause you’re tentatively thinking about working with him again, then the motherfucker shows up looking like this unironically:

[atzloverr]

Yandere alphabet - San

tw: yandere behavior, smut, kidnapping, bondage, jealousy, mentions of murder, manipulation

pairings: yandere!San x reader

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’ll hug you until you feel like you’re suffocating, cuddle you even when it’s so hot that you feel like you can’t breathe, all to show you just how much he loves you. He nuzzles into your neck, kisses you all over your face and almost purrs when he feels your warmth against him. The nights are his favorite, when he gets an excuse to snuggle up with you, forcing you to lie down on top of him. That’s when he’ll show his love the most, no matter if you’re tied up on the basement floor, or in his warm bed with him.

He’s like a clingy kitten, constantly on you, or beneath you. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, if not next to you, on top of you, maybe even inside of you. ”I love you so much,” he smiles. He’s on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You can feel yourself trembling slightly, thinking about the fact that San’s shirt had bloodstains on it. You didn’t even want to know how those ended up there, and you were too scared to ask.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He wouldn’t really get messy with you so to say, as in, he won’t cut you up, he won’t play with your blood or be rough with you. That, he can do with the people who hurt you, your former friends who didn’t treat you right, that guy who made you uncomfortable at the club.

The only time he’ll be messy or rough with you, is of course when he’s pleasuring you. He knows you love the way he sloppily eats you out, or fucks you at an unbelievable pace. Because even if you try to tell him that you don’t want him like that anymore, he knows your body won’t lie to him. He sees the way you squirm, the way your hips buck, the way your legs shake, how your eyes roll back. ”You can try to hide it from me baby,” he says as his fingers slowly plunge into you. ”But I know exactly what you like.”

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He will mock you, but just because of how cute you are in his eyes. Seeing you so confused and wide-eyed, he can’t help but giggle at you. When you start crying and screaming at him, he’ll apologize for laughing, wiping your cute little tears with a pout on his face.

”Aww, baby don’t cry,” San’s hands rub your shoulders as he coos. ”How could you!?” you scream at him, trying to shake his hands from you. Although, it’s basically impossible with the rope around your body. San just sighs as you shake and sob. He would usually hate this sight, so why does he find this so amusing? Why can’t he help but smile when you sniffle aggressively? ”My baby,” he giggles, letting his hands caress your face. ”I could tell you to stop crying, but honestly—” San laughs. ”You’re so adorable when you’re like this.”

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

The things he will do against your will are the things that he believes are genuinely good for you. Force feeding you, cleaning you and making you cuddle with him and sleep in his arms.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He’s absolutely vulnerable, never having the heart to hide his undying love and affection for you. He cries, he tells you his worries, he makes you feel like his therapist sometimes, with how he vents to you. No matter if you’re not ready to show vulnerability any time soon, San has no problem with showing himself like that. He tells you how worried he is that you’ll leave him someday, how long he’s been in love with you and how he’ll kill anyone who hurts you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find you absolutely adorable when you try to push him, or when you even think that you could ever take him in a fight. Even though he knows you have no chance, he sure loves to see you try. After a while, he will get tired of it though. If you’re still reluctant after what he considers a long time, he’ll warn you. You can’t run away from him forever.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He does see it as a game in the beginning, but once a certain amount of time has passed, he’ll remind himself and you of the true goal, which is making you fall in love with him, and spending the rest of your lives together. If you still try to escape after months, San will only get hurt, and disappointed that you still don’t want to stay with him.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Probably those nights when he makes you hate yourself for hating him. It’s weird in a way, that he’s able to make you feel so bad for disliking such a horrible person. But that’s one of the things he’s best at, making you want to love him. You realize how much easier your life would be if you just gave in and loved him back, because that part of you that fell for him was indeed still in there. But even having that thought could make you doubt your entire existence.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He’s thinking marriage, kids, growing old together, that kind of life. He can’t see himself with anyone but you, living a life without you in it. He wants to experience all kinds of things, the ups and downs of life, he wants the fights, he wants the tender moments, however long it’ll take.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

San hates to even think about you with anyone other than him. You see it on his pout that he wears daily. If you even mention someone other than him, someone who did something that you liked, or someone who you used to know, San’ll immediately start whining, begging you to talk about something else. He won’t lash out often due to his jealousy, it’ll just make him more affectionate towards you, in a way that might feel suffocating. Tighter hugs, showering you in kisses and refusing to let you leave his arms.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

As you probably understand at this point, he’s extremely affectionate. He’s touchy, invading your space, getting moody if you deny his affections. He’s almost like a big cat at times, nuzzling into you or even just laying on top of you to keep you close.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He spared no time after he had first been introduced to you, suddenly walking up to you one day and using his gorgeous good looks and charming personality to seduce you. He made sure to find out exactly what you were into, when you were the most available and how he would approach you without risking scaring you off. And when that day finally arrived and he approached you at the coffee shop, he could see in your eyes that you were going to fall for him.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

San really is a sweetheart, who just happens to love a bit too hard for it to be considered normal. He still has friends, and they all know how sweet he is, but once you entered his life, he was ready to let all of that go in order to keep you. The one thing that’s different from how he is around others, is when he gets scary. When his eyes grow wide, his smile makes you fear for your life and his grip around you is so tight it leaves bruises.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He’ll almost be like a parent disciplining his child in a way, making you admit your mistakes and hurting you lightly when you refuse. He won’t be very rough on you, even if you’ve done something that he considers horrible. Instead, he’ll just become cold, sad and make you almost feel bad for him as he cries and asks what he did to deserve this. He’ll stop kissing you, stop hugging you and most importantly, force you to sleep alone in the basement, tied up and with no distractions.

Once the punishment is over, he’ll hug you desperately, crying and complaining about how hard it was to leave you like that, how much he hated doing that to you. At this point, you’ll feel bad for him, his manipulation having gotten into your head.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

To start, he’ll take almost everything away. He doesn’t believe that the outside world is safe enough for you, and won’t risk you getting drawn to it - therefore taking your phone. He promises you he’ll let you walk freely on your own once you love him too, but even if you did, you’d probably be too manipulated by him at that point, not even wanting to go outside anymore.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He’s very patient with you, understanding that this new lifestyle will be hard for you to adjust to, so he’ll let you scream, let you try to escape from him, because he knows that the alternative isn’t anything he’d dream of. His worst nightmare is you genuinely hating him, so he’d hate to fuel those feelings of hatred that he knows exist deep inside of you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you ever managed to escape, San would make sure to find you, one way or another. He’ll be walking around, sobbing for days, looking anywhere and everywhere for any traces of you. He’ll be so heartbroken that you left him, but he tries his best to ignore his feelings, and focus on the matter at hand.

If - or when - he finds you, he’ll take you home immediately, and this time he won’t go easy on you. He’ll only show his emotions once he’s got you tied up, finally safe in the basement again. After that, he’ll sob into your arms, telling you how hard it was to live without you, how scared he was for your life and how he’ll never let you leave his sight ever again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Letting you go isn’t an option. He’ll eventually give you more freedom, but only if he knows you love him back and that you won’t escape. But he might feel guilty. Hearing you sob, begging him to let you go, it hurts him. He hates watching you like that, seeing that rage in your eyes and hearing you scream and cry. ”Please stop,” he says as he wipes your tears off your trembling face. ”Stop crying baby.”

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He had never known this side of him existed before he met you. He knew he was sometimes possessive over his friends in a weird way, but he had never felt it this strongly before. It might just be the fear of being left alone, the fear of not being loved, of not having anyone to love, it’s what haunts him at night.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates seeing you cry most of the time (unless it’s out of pleasure) and he always has to look away when he sees those droplets of water fall from your beautiful eyes, especially when you sound and look so genuinely hurt. He can find it cute at times, when you’re throwing a little tantrum, but when it’s intense and clear that it’s all his fault. It’s better when he can comfort you, wipe your tears and make you calm down, but when he punishes you and can’t make you feel better, he’ll simply leave the room and cry on his own.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Some ”classic” yanderes will kill their love, but San couldn’t even imagine such a thing. He would die for you, he would kill for you, but he would never let you die.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

You can exploit his will for you to love him, his belief that you will love him one day. Manipulating him isn’t an easy task, but it’s not impossible. You’d have to show him that affection he’s been craving, but not do too much at once. And maybe, just maybe he’ll give you just as much freedom you need in order to escape.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes, of course he would hurt you emotionally, tearing you down and building you up to make you love him. He’s the type who’ll make you believe that he would never hurt you, but he truly does, every single day. It might not seem like him, but the rope burns, the bruises from you trying to break out of your room and the headaches from not getting enough sleep, isn’t that technically him hurting you?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Oh he worships you in every way you could think of. He’ll get on his knees, kiss up your body and look up at you with that look of pure adoration. Who doesn’t like getting this much love and attention? He thinks, as he gently touches your skin, telling you just how beautiful you are in his eyes.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It doesn’t take very long for him. He can’t hold back his undying love for you, and he’ll only wait as long as absolutely necessary.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He fell in love with you, not a you that’s broken. He wants to make sure you keep those wonderful traits of yours, and if he ever sees you change your ways, he’ll make sure to do whatever it takes to get you back.

masterlist

@mortal-advocate I’m sorry it took me such a long time to finish this.. I’ve tried to focus on other things, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!! 🩷

[definitelynotanalien]

Blue Lock guys after pound town (the trend yk)

feat: Hyoma Chigiri, Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Tabito Karasu, Reo Mikage

Inspired by this post by @captainshindo

pound town, supposedly the closest a person could get to another.

Perhaps because of the use of sexual organs, or the physical action of being inside another, or even because of the pleasure that could result from the experience.

Who wouldn’t want to gain that pleasure, no matter how short term it was? 

You.

The answer was you.

Currently you’re sitting at some nowhere diner, eating the greasy fries whilst you lean on the side of the booth. Opposing you is Hyoma Chigiri, one of the star players for the Manshine’s team, and your boyfriend. 

He’s sipping his cola, stealing a fry from you every once in a while, despite your objections, afterall this is supposed to be your treat after being subjected to the butral rounds he put you through. Your legs clench at the thought.

Hyoma is watching you with an eager glint in his eyes, his composure steady, barely changing aside from an occasional vibration or two.

The pair of you had just finished a rather intense round, and decided to go out for fast food instead of just ordering take out like normal people.

You’re practically trembling, struggling to keep up any facade of normalcy as you painstakingly retrieve a small fry.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hyoma interjects your thoughts with a small smirk, taking his half eaten french fry and dipping it into the sauce before plopping it into his mouth.

You glare at him, completely deadpan. “I can barely walk right now.”

Hyoma laughs, covering his mouth with a hand as he delightedly looks at your face. 

“Skill issue.” He comments.

You drop a fry. 

“We’re never fucking again.” You say, shaking your head smoothly. 

Hyoma gapes, his pretty swollen pink lips separating for a moment in mock offense.

He knows you don’t actually mean it, you’re just using it as a playful way to tease the boy, even if you were serious he knows you’ll come back to him sooner or later.

“But you like it soo much~” He teases, putting his arm over the table to nudge your shoulder, making you lose the support of the booth chair

You don’t bother to give him a response.

Michael Kaiser stares at you with a victorious glint as he takes a bite of his burger. 

You’re sitting in front of him, leaning your head back and staring up at the ceiling as you contemplate life, and as you struggle to even pick up your own burger, let alone eat any of it.

His blond hair is fluffed up ever so slightly more than usual, it’s not as bad as his bed head, but it looks the same as it does after a competitive match. 

You’re struggling to keep your composure, switching between trying to eat and staring at the ceiling, you hear a snicker.

“Talk so big yet you can’t take it?” He remarks, it’s posed as a question and yet it sounds more like an observation.

You shake your head, and choose to smash it against the table in front of you, narrowly avoiding your plate.

You groan, “Not when I’m taking so big.”

Michael chokes on his water, a rare moment of shock.

Then he returns to his usual cocky persona, leaning his head on his hand. “You really shouldn’t say that in public, leibling, it makes me want to do it again.”

Michael takes another large bite of his burger, practically unhinging his jaw. He wipes off any remaining sauce with a tissue.

“There is no next time.” You respond, lifting your head off the table and weakly attempting to eat some of your treat.

He laughs, it’s twisted and much too confident for his own good, yet for some reason it makes him seem even more endearing as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t lie, we both know you can’t resist me.” Michael teases, twirling a strand of his blond-blue locks with a finger, he makes a crude scissoring gesture as he splits the piece of hair in half, it makes you flush.

You smash your head into the table again, having officially given up.

The pink haired man sitting in front of you narrows his eyes, twirling the metal straw that leads to his beverage as Sae Itoshi calmly looks over your appearance.

The two of you are sat in Sae’s apartment, a bag of fast food pushed to the side of his marble countertops as you lean on his kitchen’s island.

Sae regards you with a judgemental glance, looking over your disheveled appearance as he comments, “You know those aren’t good for you?”

You pause, a couple of french fries in hand. You begin to slowly guide them towards your mouth, eating them with careful consideration.

“I don’t care.” You respond, shrugging as your partner glares down at you.

Sae looks like an angry porcupine as he crosses his arms. He takes a tentative sip from his glass of ice cold water, and he contemplates forcing you to eat something actually healthy, although he doubts it would go over well with you.

“Don’t come crying to me later, then.” He turns away from you, as if about to walk off, then he turns back towards you to make another point. “You know-“

You cut him off, “Shut up.”

He raises his eyebrows, and lightly flicks your forehead. You make an over exaggerated groan at the movement, and Sae smirks.

“Stop being pissy, I’m just telling the truth.” He says bluntly, a subtle glimmer of affection in his eyes.

You reach to take another fry, and Sae lightly swats your hand, you glare. He already bought it, so why wasn’t he letting you eat it.

“If you keep at it, you’ll never get to hit this again.” You declare, shaking your head slowly.

Sae pauses, tilting his head to the side and staring at you with blank eyes, “Hit this…?” he asks, wrinkling his eyebrows. 

You forgot that Sae is chronically offline.

“Nevermind.”

A warm smell fills the air, and a sizzling sound ceases. You’re sitting at your dining room table, leaning back and facing your face to the ceiling. 

Tabito Karasu sets a plate, and some chopsticks in front of you. He grabs a few other dishes from the kitchen, his hair floppy and free from hair wax. It’s a domestic scene, especially since you’ve just been brutally railed, and you’re enjoying it.

Every so often your thighs shake from the previous overstimulation, and as it happens when Tabito sets the final dish on the table, he flashes you his signature grin.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You deflect, gripping your chair and pulling it closer to the table.

Tabito laughs crisply, it’s warm and inviting, you want to hear it over and over again. 

“Like what?” He asks, leaning towards you ever so slightly. 

You feel your cheeks start to warm as he runs a hand through his hair, his beautiful hair wax free hair.

You hesitate to place anything on your plate, worried that you’ll struggle to use the chopsticks he so nicely face you, as your hands tremble.

Tabito notices. He picks up some food and starts to place it onto your plate, giving you generous amounts. “Next time I’ll go easier.” 

You pause, flustered. Tabito finishes giving you food, and goes into the kitchen to grab a knife, fork, and spoon just in case. He places them onto the table, so you can use them if you can’t use chopsticks anymore.

Your heart swells, and you’re delighted by the fact that this man is your boyfriend, especially when you dig in and taste a delicious home cooked meal.

“What makes you think there will be a next time?” You comment in between bites, with a small smile.

He stares down at you, and smirks.

Reo Mikage looks down at you pitifully, as if begging you not to do this.

It’s late, and you’re surprisingly hungry after quite a few rounds, of course Reo isn’t, considering how desperate he was eating you earlier.

You’re laying in bed, and scrolling through a delivery app on your phone, Reo sits up next to you, looking at your phone.

“You realise I have private chefs?” He comments, running his fingers through your freshly washed hair with a gentle smile.

You tap your order into the delivery app, choosing to buy from a quick and easy fast food place. 

“It’s too late to call on them.” You rebutt his comment, clicking onto the pay section of the app.

Reo sighs, stretching his arms up and shuffling towards the edge of the bed. He starts to try to leave the warmth of the bed, but you wrap your quivering legs around him.

He grins, “I can make you something myself.”, Reo behind to squirm his way out of your legs and bed. Unfortunately your legs seem to have lost the strength they possessed during your earlier endeavours.

You groan, tossing your phone to the side and grabbing Reo’s torso with your hands. 

“I want fast food.” You demand, holding onto him tightly and using all your body weight to make him stay. It’s a helpless thing, as your boyfriend is incredibly strong due to his time in Manshine and his job as a professional footballer, but nevertheless!

Reo groans, “But it’s rather… unhealthy and greasy.” he explains, still ready to leave the bed to make you something. If he does, you’re sure you’ll kill him.

You smirk, a mischievous idea on your mind, and you pull yourself towards your boyfriend to kiss him right next to his mouth.

“Like you.” You say, pushing away from him. 

Reo rolls his eyes, and stays in bed, shuffling towards the middle once more.

“I despise that comparison.” 

[woozinhos]

Hii can I request for pregnancy sex with jeonghan?

Notes: guys I’m so back this is great! This was so cute to write enjoy!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Jeonghan watches you as you move around the house, your pregnant belly prominent. He can't help but feel a surge of desire every time he looks at you, but he's hesitant to act on it.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asks for the third time that day, concern etched on his face. You smile at him and nod, placing a hand on your belly. "I'm fine, Jeonghan. The baby and I are both healthy." Jeonghan lets out a sigh of relief, but his eyes still linger on your stomach. He's been struggling to control his urges, wanting nothing more than to take you right then and there.

As the day goes on, Jeonghan becomes more and more restless. He finds himself constantly touching you, his hands roaming over your body as if he can't get enough of you. You can sense Jeonghan's growing need, but you don't comment on it. You know he's been holding back, afraid of hurting you or the baby. As the evening draws near, Jeonghan finally can't take it anymore. He pulls you onto his lap, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I need you," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

"I know," you reply, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I could tell." Jeonghan groans and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. "You have no idea how much I've been wanting you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

"I'm scared," Jeonghan admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby." He pulls back to look at you, his eyes filled with worry. "What if we do something that's not safe for the baby?"

You cup his face in your hands, your expression gentle. "Jeonghan, we'll be careful. We can figure it out together." Jeonghan looks at you for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," he says, his hands moving to your waist. "But you have to promise to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable or wrong." Jeonghan carefully helps you into bed, making sure you're comfortable before he climbs in beside you. He pulls you close to him, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks again, his voice laced with concern. You nod, leaning into his touch. "I want this, Jeonghan. I want you." Jeonghan takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It has been a while since he's been intimate with you, and the thought of it is both exciting and terrifying.

"I just... I don't want to disappoint you," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

"You could never disappoint me," you reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you, Jeonghan. No matter what."

L Jeonghan closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. "I love you too," he whispers, his heart racing in his chest. "I just want to make you feel good." Jeonghan slowly undresses, his eyes never leaving yours. He's acutely aware of the changes in your body as you watch him, and it only fuels his desire further.

Once he's completely naked, he stands there for a moment, letting you take him in. You can't help but admire his toned body, your eyes roaming over every inch of him. He's still just as beautiful as the day you met him, and you feel a rush of affection for him. Jeonghan moves closer to you, his hands tracing the contours of your body. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss. Jeonghan takes his time undressing you, being careful not to put any pressure on your stomach. He peels away each piece of clothing, his hands roaming over your skin as he exposes more of you to him.

"You're glowing," he says, his eyes darkening with lust. "Absolutely gorgeous." Jeonghan takes a moment to compose himself, trying to control his desire. He positions himself between your legs, his hands on your thighs.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he says, his voice low and gravelly. You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. Jeonghan slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked on yours as he watches for any signs of discomfort.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice strained. You take a deep breath, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. "I'm okay," you say, your voice shaky. "Just... go slow." Jeonghan nods, his movements slow and deliberate. He keeps a close eye on your face, looking for any signs of pain or discomfort. As Jeonghan continues to move, he starts to relax a bit more. The feeling of being inside you is overwhelming, and he can't help but let out a low moan.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his fingers digging into your thighs. "I've missed this." You moan in response, arching your back as he hits a sensitive spot. "Jeonghan... harder." Jeonghan's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly complies with your request. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips snapping against yours. "Take it. You're doing so well." He leans down to capture your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he loses himself in the moment. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tensing with pleasure. Jeonghan senses it too, and he reaches down to rub your clit with his thumb.

"Come for me," he urges, his voice rough with need. "Let go, sweetheart." It doesn't take long for you to reach your climax, your body shaking as you cry out his name. Jeonghan follows soon after, his own release spilling inside you. Jeonghan moans loudly as he cums, his body trembling against yours. He buries his face in your neck, riding out the waves of pleasure as he fills you up.

Once he's done, he stays there for a moment, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. "God, I needed that," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You smile and run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him still inside you. "Me too," you say softly. Jeonghan lifts his head to look at you, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "I love you so much," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for letting me do this with you." Jeonghan pulls out of you and quickly rolls onto his side, apologizing to your stomach. "I'm sorry, baby," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your belly. "Daddy didn't mean to get so carried away."

[nightcolorz]

as some huge Armand defender I support this message

Really controversial opinion here, but I think it would actually be really interesting and on-theme if Armand hadn't lied about anything significant other than what we have canon confirmation of him lying about (i.e. the extent of his involvement in the trial, that he lied to Louis about breaking with the coven). Not Louis asking him to erase the SF memories, not the Stein photos (which I don't think he lied about anyway). And not because I'm this huge Armand defender (even though, sure, I do have a more positive view on him that most of the fandom, I guess), but because I think it would fit nicely into those themes of "am I the history I endured?"/"are we the sum of our worst moments?" on both an in-universe and meta level.

Like, have it be kind of a crying wolf situation, where Armand had lied before, and in such a significant and harmful way that it has created this massive breach of trust, both in his relationship with Louis and in the "relationship" with the audience. Now, everything Armand says and does is suspect because the betrayal was so massive, the breach of trust so fundamental. We don't actually have proof of Armand lying about anything else, even the SF memories situation, on close examination, why would he do it? what were his motives to erase those memories specifically and not others, like the entire interview with Daniel? But everyone automatically accepts he's lying because...well he lied in such a big way before, right? And I think their argument in 2x4 is there not because Armand actually messed with the photos, but because it's an illustration of the root of dysfunction in their relationship - it all goes back to that betrayal. Armand says, clearly exhausted and frustrated, "you just assume it was me." And he's not wrong - why would you immediately jump to that accusation of your partner unless the two of you had trust issues?

And you know, again, I'm not saying that this is true. I'm just saying it would be interesting to me if it was because it would be another twist and take on that theme of...how does the past affect us? How does past trauma and past actions (our own and of those around us) change our view of the world, ourselves and others? What happens when we are judged by our worst moments? Can we ever escape the history we have endured (or created)?