#the spot imagine

[the-s1lly-corner]

Prompts 16, 18, 27, and 28 with Spot

Back at it again with the spot writing WOOO

HOLIDAY

It was the first christmas since his accident, and the first one without his friends and family... well asides you of course. Hes not much of a holiday person, but hes still.. visibly hurt and miserable with it being a reminder of how everyone but you abandoned him in his darkest moment. He doesn't want to do any huge.. event for the day.. he might entertain you with wearing a matching sweater with you and getting you some gifts... but he'd much rather sit in bed and keep his mind occupied, trying to not become increasingly aware of the fact no one else is wishing him a merry christmas or returning his calls. Its very hard for the day not to become at least a little sour from his mood

OBLIVIOUS

Youd been throwing flirting attempts his way ever since you started working at alchemax. Each and every one of them would be met with a clueless look from the scientist, no sign of him realizing what you just said to him. If it werent so frustrating you might just find him even cuter.. but boy is this getting old fast. Oh he is definitely the type to sit straight up in his bed suddenly in the middle of the night when he realizes that you were flirting with him.. added salt if that happens after he comes spot

CAMPING

He is torn. He hates the outdoors and hates working himself physically... but he loves being able to observe stuff up close. Probably screams if a bug launches itself onto his face. Does not believe in cryptids and monsters yet stiffens when theres a noise off in the distance. Will immediately shut down any attempt of telling scary stories by the fire, too. Very good at keeping track of stuff and what direction you guys are going in... probably knows basic first aid and insists he knows what plants are what. He proceeds to walk through poison ivy

FIRST DATE

Oh this poor man he has no idea what to do.. you're not his first date ever but trying to impress someone new is always going to be nerve wracking. That confidence that hes putting on display for you? It's so obviously fake... hes stumbling over his words a little, he probably knocks over his water. You're a little surprised he didnt make note cards to read off of. I'll be nice.. this can be pre collider, he would be even more of a nervous wreck if he was.. a faceless thing.. though his nerves are kind of. Endearing and he does find his footing when the night really kicks off. Charming if not a chatterbox when it comes to topics that really catch his interest. Would try to kiss you after the first date, cannot read if it is appropriate or fits the mood. Hes simply.. a pathetic dork

[zapreportsblog]

Embracing Love's Unfathomable Depths

➥ summary: Jonathan and his wife share a passionate night together and come to find out that they are bringing into this world a new life

➥ a/n: slight angst more so fluff

➥ one shot

In the heart of the bustling city, where the shadows danced and secrets lurked, Jonathan Ohnn, better known as The Spot, found solace within the walls of his sanctuary—a modest apartment that held the echoes of his dual existence as both a supervillain and a man seeking redemption. As the night settled in, Jonathan found himself enveloped in the arms of his loving wife, (Y/N), amidst the tranquil space of their bedroom.

Their room was adorned with touches of warmth and affection, photographs capturing cherished memories scattered across the walls. The scent of lavender filled the air, adding an ethereal touch to the ambiance. The world outside seemed distant and irrelevant as Jonathan and (Y/N) reveled in the intimate connection they shared.

(Y/N) gazed into Jonathan's eyes, her love for him shining through every glance. She was determined to show him that his appearance, no matter how different or unconventional, could never hinder the depth of her affection. Tonight, she intended to demonstrate that their love transcended all boundaries.

Her fingertips grazed his cheek, her touch sending a shiver down Jonathan's spine. He looked into her eyes, a mix of longing and apprehension filling his own. He had always been self-conscious about his appearance, plagued by doubts and insecurities. But (Y/N)'s unwavering love had the power to shatter those barriers, reminding him that he was deserving of acceptance and adoration.

As the night wore on, (Y/N)'s touch became bolder, her hands exploring the contours of Jonathan's body, tracing the very essence of his being. Each caress was filled with an undeniable passion, an affirmation that she loved him wholly, without reservation.

Jonathan's heart pounded in his chest as desire ignited within him. He surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their connection, their bodies entwined in a dance of shared affection. In this moment of vulnerability and surrender, they discovered the profound depths of their love.

As their passionate night unfolded, Jonathan felt the weight of his insecurities melt away. In (Y/N)'s arms, he found solace and acceptance, a haven where his true self was celebrated. Every touch, every whispered word of adoration, reminded him that he was deserving of love—his own unique version of love.

Their embrace lingered in the sacred space of their bedroom, their bodies and souls intertwined in a symphony of ecstasy and devotion. The world outside ceased to exist as they surrendered to the blissful union of their love. In that intimate realm, Jonathan and (Y/N) were free from judgment and fear, embracing the depths of their affection.

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of their passionate night remained etched in their minds. And then, one day, (Y/N) discovered that she carried within her a precious gift—a life growing within her womb. The news filled their hearts with both joy and trepidation.

Jonathan's mind spun with worry and fear, his thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of their unborn child's appearance. Would the baby inherit his unique characteristics, a reflection of his own extraordinary abilities? Would the world accept their child, or would they face a lifetime of prejudice and misunderstanding?

(Y/N), sensing Jonathan's inner turmoil, embraced him tightly, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "Jonathan, our child will be a piece of you and me, a symbol of the love we share. No matter how different they may look, they will be a source of endless joy and pride. We will love them unconditionally, just as we love each other."

Jonathan's eyes met (Y/N)'s, his heart swelling with gratitude and adoration. He realized that his wife's unwavering love had the power to guide him through the most challenging of times. Her words were a balm to his worried soul, offering a glimpse of hope and reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

As the months passed, Jonathan and (Y/N) embraced the journey of pregnancy with unwavering love and anticipation. They reveled in the miracle of life growing within (Y/N)'s womb, celebrating each milestone and cherishing the precious moments shared between the three of them.

•••

Jonathan Ohnn, known as The Spot, had been on the run for his crimes, evading the relentless pursuit of the Spider Gang from the Spider-Verse. The weight of his past actions loomed heavy, and he lived in constant fear of their capture. But amidst the chaos of his fugitive existence, Jonathan's world was about to collide with the Spider Gang in an unexpected encounter.

On a seemingly ordinary day, Jonathan ventured out to a local grocery store, a rare moment of normalcy in his tumultuous life. As he walked down the aisles, filling his cart with groceries he intended to purchase, he couldn't help but remain vigilant, ever watchful for any signs of danger.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed through the store, causing Jonathan's heart to skip a beat. "You'll be coming with us, Spot!" Miles Morales, aka Spider-Man, called out, his fellow Spider Gang members, Gwen Stacy, Hobie Brown, and Pavitr Prabhakar, flanking him in their spider suits.

Jonathan glanced at the Spider Gang, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. He continued to pick up items from the shelves, unrattled by their presence. "No can do, Spidey. My wife's pregnant, and she's expecting me to be home in a few minutes with all this food."

Hobie raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin playing upon his face. "Pickles and ice cream, huh?"

Gwen nudged Hobie's shoulder, shooting him a playful glare. "Shut up, Hobie. Pregnancy makes women crave weird things sometimes."

Pavitr, always the optimist, couldn't hide his excitement. "Oh, goodie! A baby! That's wonderful news, Spot!"

Jonathan nodded, a genuine smile forming on his face. "Yeah, it is. It's a whole new chapter in our lives. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."

Miles crossed his arms, his expression serious yet tinged with a hint of sympathy. "We can't just ignore your crimes, Spot. There are consequences for your actions."

Jonathan turned to face Miles, his voice laced with sincerity. "I understand that, Miles. I've made mistakes, but I'm trying to change, to be better. My wife and child—they're my motivation now. They're the reason I'm trying to leave my past behind."

Gwen stepped forward, her tone filled with understanding. "We know it's not easy, Spot. But you have to understand our position too. We're responsible for maintaining the balance, for protecting innocent lives."

Jonathan's gaze met Gwen's, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I get it. But I won't let my family suffer because of my past. I'm doing everything I can to make things right."

Hobie chimed in, his voice carrying a note of sympathy. "We'll keep an eye on you, Spot.“

Jonathan nodded, a sense of determination settling within him. "You have my word, I won't let my loved ones down."

With a mix of understanding and caution, the Spider Gang watched as Jonathan continued his grocery shopping. They understood the complexities of his situation, torn between their duty and recognizing the potential for redemption.

As Jonathan approached the checkout counter, he cast a final glance at the Spider Gang, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you for understanding, guys. And thank you for reminding me that there's always a chance for change."

Miles nodded, a gesture of acknowledgement. "Just remember, Spot, the choices you make will define your path. We're here to make sure you choose the right one."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Jonathan paid for his groceries and made his way out of the store. As he walked towards his car, the weight of responsibility settled upon his shoulders, but the warmth of his family's love gave him strength.

He knew that his journey towards redemption wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to create a better future for his wife, his unborn child, and himself. As he drove home, the presence of the Spider Gang, both as a reminder of his past and a beacon of hope for his future, fueled his resolve.

•••

Miguel O'Hara, also known as Spider-Man 2099, watched as the Spider Gang prepared to set out on their mission to retrieve Jonathan Ohnn, the elusive Spot. His expression held a steely determination, for he knew the consequences of letting the Spot's crimes go unchecked.

"I don't care if he has a family," Miguel declared firmly, his voice tinged with urgency. "He's a problem not just for our universe, but for all the others out there. We can't afford to let him slip through our fingers."

The Spider Gang listened, their faces reflecting the weight of the responsibility placed upon them. They understood the gravity of the task at hand, but the mention of Jonathan's family tugged at their hearts.

Days passed, and the Spider Gang tracked down the Spot's whereabouts, leading them to his apartment. With a collective sense of purpose, they braced themselves for the confrontation that lay ahead. They broke in, ready to apprehend the Spot, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight.

In the midst of the apartment, (Y/N), the Spot's pregnant wife, stood by the stove, cooking a meal with a serene expression on her face. She turned, her eyes widening in surprise at the intrusion.

"Oh, I didn't know Jonathan was inviting guests over," (Y/N) greeted them warmly, her voice filled with hospitality. "Please, come sit. The food will be ready soon."

Pavitr Prabhakar, known as Spider-Man of India, couldn't help but be taken aback by the scene before him. The sight of a pregnant woman bustling about the kitchen, her warmth and kindness radiating, melted his heart.

"No way," Pavitr exclaimed, a mix of awe and admiration in his voice. "You come sit down, ma'am. Here, rest your feet. I'll make you some chai."

(Y/N) smiled gratefully at Pavitr, grateful for his considerate gesture. She lowered herself onto a nearby chair, accepting the offer with a sense of appreciation. The Spider Gang settled around her, their previous mission temporarily forgotten.

As Pavitr busied himself in the kitchen, preparing the warm cup of chai, Gwen Stacy, known as Spider-Gwen, turned to (Y/N) with a gentle smile. "You and Jonathan, you have a beautiful home. How long have you been together?"

(Y/N)'s eyes softened, her hands cradling her growing belly. "Thank you. We've been together for several years now. It's been quite a journey, but he's my rock, and I couldn't ask for a better partner."

Miles Morales, Spider-Man of the main universe, nodded in understanding. "Family means everything, doesn't it?"

(Y/N) nodded, a sense of determination in her voice. "Absolutely. Our family is everything to us, and we'll do whatever it takes to protect each other."

As Pavitr returned with a tray of steaming chai, he handed a cup to (Y/N) with a gentle smile. "Here you go, ma'am. I hope it brings you some comfort."

(Y/N) took a sip of the warm chai, feeling its soothing effect on her tired body. She looked at the Spider Gang, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you all for your kindness. I know you're here for Jonathan, but please understand that our love and commitment to each other will never waver."

Gwen reached out, placing a reassuring hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "We understand. Family is important to us too. We'll do what we can to ensure your safety and Jonathan's, but we can't turn a blind eye to the Spot's actions."

(Y/N) nodded, her gaze steady. "I understand. Just please remember that behind every choice he made, there is a man trying to change, a man who wants a better future for his family."

Miles spoke up, his voice filled with a mix of resolve and empathy. "We'll do our best to help Jonathan find that better future, for your sake and for the sake of all the universes affected by his actions."

In that moment, as the Spider Gang sat together, sharing a simple meal and engaging in heartfelt conversation, they understood the depth of Jonathan's humanity. They realized that redemption was a complex journey, and that sometimes, even heroes had to make difficult choices.

As the meal came to an end, the Spider Gang bid farewell to (Y/N), promising to keep her and Jonathan's family in their thoughts. They left the apartment, their mission temporarily on hold, their hearts filled with a newfound understanding.

•••

Months had passed since the Spider Gang's encounter with (Y/N) and their understanding of Jonathan's complex situation deepened. As (Y/N) continued her pregnancy journey, she and Jonathan made preparations for a home birth, cherishing the idea of welcoming their child into the warmth of their loving home.

In the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, Jonathan and (Y/N) had created a space of serenity and safety. Soft music played in the background as they prepared for the arrival of their baby, their hearts filled with anticipation and excitement.

But fate had other plans in store.

Just as the contractions grew more intense, and the air was filled with an electric mix of nerves and joy, a sudden portal opened in the room, and Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099, materialized before their eyes.

The room fell into stunned silence as Miguel took in the scene before him. He had come to arrest the Spot, but the sight of a woman in the throes of childbirth caught him off guard.

"Oh, god," Miguel muttered under his breath, his eyes widening in a mix of shock and awkwardness. He quickly averted his gaze, clearly flustered. "I... I didn't mean to intrude. I'll come back another day for the Spot."

Jonathan, his attention divided between his wife and the unexpected visitor, managed to find his voice. "We're in the middle of something here. Can you give us a moment?"

Miguel's expression softened, his gaze shifting back to Jonathan. He nodded, his voice filled with understanding. "Alright, I'll give you some privacy. Just know that this doesn't change anything. We'll have to settle this eventually."

With those words, Miguel retreated through the portal, leaving Jonathan and (Y/N) alone once again. The room filled with a mix of relief and anticipation, the interruption serving as a reminder of the challenges they would have to face once the baby arrived.

(Y/N), despite the interruption, remained focused and determined. She held Jonathan's hand tightly, drawing strength from their connection. "We can do this, Jonathan. Our love will guide us through. Just focus on supporting me, and everything will be alright."

Jonathan nodded, a mixture of pride and concern in his eyes. He stood by (Y/N)'s side, providing comfort and reassurance as her labor intensified. Time seemed to lose its meaning as they navigated the waves of pain and anticipation, their love anchoring them in the midst of the storm.

And then, in a moment that felt both timeless and miraculous, their baby emerged into the world, filling the room with a cry that echoed with the promise of new beginnings. Jonathan's eyes glistened with tears as he held their precious child in his arms, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

As they marveled at the tiny life they had created, Jonathan and (Y/N) knew that their journey had just begun. The interruption by Miguel served as a reminder that their circumstances were far from ordinary. The Spider Gang's pursuit of the Spot would continue, and their lives would forever be intertwined with the web of responsibility and redemption.

But in that precious moment, all that mattered was the love that enveloped their growing family. Jonathan kissed (Y/N)'s forehead, his voice filled with awe. "We did it, (Y/N). Look at our beautiful child. A perfect blend of you and me."

(Y/N) smiled, her gaze fixed on the tiny face in Jonathan's arms. "They're a piece of our love, Jonathan. No matter what lies ahead, we'll protect them with everything we have."

As they embraced their newborn and the uncharted path that lay before them, Jonathan and (Y/N) knew that their love would be the guiding light in their journey. They would face the challenges of the Spider Gang and the shadows of their past with unwavering determination, for they had found strength in each other and in the boundless love they shared.

With their newborn cradled in their arms, Jonathan and (Y/N) embarked on a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns. They held each other's hands tightly, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them, knowing that their love would remain their guiding star, leading them towards a future filled with hope, forgiveness, and the unbreakable bond of family.

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day

[ham1lton]

X MARKS THE SPOT!

pairings: retired f1 drivers x retired f1 legend!yn.

faceclaim: jessica alba.

summary: being the first-ever female f1 world champion was hard enough. writing a tell-all about it, including all the details of your beef with that former driver? let’s just say the track wasn’t the only place things got heated.

warnings: mentions of misogyny. like a lot. so if that is something that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read!! your comfort comes first <3

author’s note: ignore timeline issues!! this was all inspired by that one anon who said something about yn writing a tell-all. if you liked this, maybe send me an ask? :D

now part of a trilogy!

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by vogue, jimmyfallon and 2,837,018 others

yourinstagram: it was so fun talking to jimmyfallon about writing my memoir ‘lucky girl syndrome’! i talked about getting the call that i was being signed, getting name dropped in a kdot song (thank you for making me cool to my nephews!) and the legacy i want to leave behind. check it out!!!

view all 298,727 comments

user1: MOTHERRR

user2: omg i’ve already pre-ordered my copy!!

-> user3: i’ve reserved it at my local library 🫡

user4: i hope she spills all the tea. i wanna know exactly who the misogynist motherfuckers are.

user5: she’s the goat female driver idc!! first female championship winner!!

-> user9: during her time in mclaren, jenson was carrying her. but yeah let’s talk about that one rigged championship 😂

user6: she still looks so hot. my first celeb crush.

-> user7: i had pictures of her all over my wall. i think my mom still has them up 😓

user8: worst driver of all time. only there because she looked good in the race suit.

-> user11: if she wasn’t hot, no one would care about her driving.

user10: this was always going to happen when you allowed women into f1. ruined the sport. she was nothing but a distraction on the grid.

-> user12: she was incredible. she clawed her way to a championship when everyone doubted her. she proved that women can do anything. the only distraction are people like you.

user13: please please please tell me she says that her and jenson were a thing. i always used to ship them so bad. the photoshoot for british vogue was imprinted on my thirteen year old brain.

-> user14: ANOTHER JENSONYN SHIPPER!!! baitclaren was my fav mclaren era. y’all can have your twinkclaren!!

-> user15: remember when jenson shut down a misogynistic reporter who tried to imply that yn wasn’t a good driver?? that was his girl frfr!!

user16: i’m so proud of u yn. you’ve been through so much and i’m excited to support you.

*liked by yourinstagram.*

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

“SHE’S NOT THAT FAST — SHE JUST GETS LUCKY SOMETIMES. THAT’S ALL IT IS. RIGHT CAR — RIGHT TIME. LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME.” — a senior mclaren engineer.

dedicated to everyone who ever rooted for me. thank you.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

EXCERPT FROM LUCKY GIRL SYNDROME.

by yn yln.

when i signed with mclaren in 2013, i thought i was living my dream.

i was the only female driver on the grid, paired with jenson button—a world champion, a household name, and, to some, a certified heartthrob. they already loved calling him “promiscuous” in the press, and suddenly there i was: the pretty young woman who happened to drive fast. to them, we weren’t drivers—we were a brand. two good-looking people in shiny cars. and that label stuck.

from the start, i wasn’t taken seriously. i’d show up to meetings and realize they’d given me the wrong time—jenson would already be there, halfway through strategising with the team. he always looked uncomfortable when i walked in late, knowing i wasn’t told the same things he was.

“you’re here now,” he’d say, smiling politely, trying to ease the tension. i liked him. he wasn’t the problem. he was respectful, and if anyone made an offhand comment about me, he’d interject with a joke to cut through the awkwardness. but even his kindness couldn’t fix what was fundamentally wrong.

my first podium was a moment i’d worked my entire life for. it was a race where i drove faster than jenson, faster than most of the grid. but the photo they posted of me on the team’s social media wasn’t of me crossing the finish line, or holding my trophy.

it was me in the garage, leaning over the car, my race suit unzipped halfway down. the caption didn’t even mention the podium. it was just… my body. i couldn’t stomach looking through the comments.

i’ll never forget calling my dad that night. he was furious. he asked me why i didn’t make a fuss. why i didn’t storm into the team’s office and demand better treatment. but what he didn’t understand was that it wasn’t that simple. you’re the only woman in a room full of men, and they’re already waiting for you to slip up. waiting for you to show too much emotion, to prove them right when they think women are too “dramatic” to handle the job.

so i kept my head down. i smiled at the cameras, laughed at the jokes, and drove my ass off every weekend. and every time i was faster than jenson, every time i outqualified him or finished ahead, they’d say, “she got lucky.” when he beat me, they’d say, “see? this is why she doesn’t belong here.” it was a game i couldn’t win.

being the first woman on the grid wasn’t just about being fast. it was about being everything they didn’t expect me to be: calm, collected, agreeable. i couldn’t afford to push back because i knew they’d use it against me. so i swallowed it all, every little slight, every dismissive comment, every missed opportunity. i thought if i just kept my head down and drove, eventually, i’d earn their respect.

but now, looking back, i realize… they were never going to respect me. not really. not as a driver. they respected what i did for their brand, for their image. they respected how well i played the part. but as a person, as an athlete? i was just another pretty face to them. nothing more. and that’s what hurt the most.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

r/books

Discussion Thread:

“Lucky Girl Syndrome” by YN YLN: Thoughts, Reactions, and the Drama It’s Stirred Up.

──────────────────────

u/checkeredpast: just finished lucky girl syndrome, and WOW. she did not hold back. calling out mclaren for the way they treated her, the “wrong meeting times” sabotage, and the completely inappropriate podium photo… i can’t believe this stuff actually happened.

u/fastlaneandfurious: the part where she talks about the team using her as a “walking brand strategy” instead of a driver broke my heart. like, they wanted her to be the face of the team but refused to actually treat her like a serious athlete.

u/f1fanfiction: let’s talk about the fact that she outsold literally every sports memoir in history. 2 million copies sold in the first week. yn doesn’t just break records on the track, apparently.

u/nosteeringallowed: her calling out the media for labeling her as “lucky” after she beat half the grid is ICONIC. “they didn’t call my male teammates lucky—they called them skilled.” like, yes queen, drag them.

u/ynsthegoat: what got me was the chapter about the infamous team dinner where they wouldn’t even let her speak during strategy talk. then she went out and out-qualified jenson the next day.

u/overqualifiedandundervalued: “they said i was lucky, but luck doesn’t drive faster laps or win races. luck didn’t make me the first woman to win a championship—it was skill, it was hard work, and it was me.” CHILLS. absolute chills.

u/gridgossip: is no one going to talk about the tea she spilled on that one driver? the “polite but condescending” comments she got from him while he constantly undermined her. we KNOW it’s about seb.

u/wheresthefinishline: @ u/gridgossip no no no, it’s def about fernando. she’s been shady about him for years, and the way she described the “overly competitive teammate who couldn’t handle being outpaced by a woman” fits him perfectly.

u/holygrailpodium: the inappropriate photo after her first podium makes me so mad every time. she’s standing there in tears, holding the trophy, and they choose to post a picture of her leaning over the car with her suit half-open?? disgusting.

u/gaslitandgridlocked: her dad being her biggest defender was such a beautiful part of the book, though. “why do you stay quiet when you’re the fastest in the room?” hit me right in the heart.

u/podiumqueen: not me crying over how she kept driving through all of this, knowing they didn’t want her there. like, the strength it must’ve taken to win races when her own team wasn’t even rooting for her.

u/championshipenergy: the way she calls out how different her career would’ve been if she were a man was SO POWERFUL. “they didn’t need me to be fast, they needed me to be pretty. they got both, and they still weren’t satisfied.”

u/mimosasontherace: i can’t stop thinking about the last chapter where she talks about winning her first championship and how no one in her team even hugged her when the cameras switched off. like, they couldn’t even fake happiness for her.

u/driversanddivas: this book isn’t just a memoir; it’s a reckoning. yn exposed everyone who doubted her and proved that no matter what they threw at her, she came out on top. lucky girl syndrome my ass—she EARNED that title.

u/lightsoutandread: imagine being on the grid right now, knowing you were one of the people she called out. the absolute awkwardness.

u/trophiesandtrauma: if you’re on the fence about reading this, DO IT. it’s not just about racing—it’s about breaking barriers, sexism, and resilience. honestly, it deserves all the success it’s getting.

u/checkeredpast: she’s already announced a limited series deal with a streaming platform. you KNOW it’s going to be messy when they dramatize the “wrong meeting times” scene.

u/bookishracer: “lucky girl syndrome” is officially my book of the year. yn didn’t just tell her story; she made sure no one could ever erase it again.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by f1stan, ynstan and 1,837,928 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: f1 legend and now best selling author, yn yln, took to harper’s bazaar to discuss writing and her career. however, her memoir went viral for more than its record breaking sales. yln mentioned that there was a certain driver that would be her biggest fan in public and then undermine her in public. it has been dubbed ‘x marks the spot’, with the hashtag gaining major traction on social media. what do you think ham1ltons? and who do you think the supposed driver could be?

──────────────────────

‘there was one driver who always seemed to go out of his way to remind me i didn’t belong. he wasn’t on my team, but his presence always lingered—sharp, dismissive, condescending. let’s call him x. in interviews, he’d say all the right things, calling me a “trailblazer” and claiming he respected what i brought to the sport. but in the paddock, it was another story. during press conferences, he’d interrupt me, throwing in some smug joke that made everyone laugh but left me feeling small. once, during a rain delay, he walked past my garage and casually remarked to my engineer, loud enough for me to hear, “well, at least she’ll look good sliding off the track.” and when i won my first race, beating him in the process, he didn’t say a word. no handshake, no congratulations—just a quick glance and he was gone. i’ll never know why he went out of his way to belittle me, but in the end, i didn’t care. that win wasn’t for him. it was for me.’

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view all 23,727 comments

user1: it’s definitely fernando. they’ve never liked each other, and he’s always been salty when anyone’s faster than him.

-> user2: nah, it can’t be fernando. he’s competitive, but he’s never outright disrespectful. i’m thinking nico.

-> user1: girl that’s the point 😭 x was never openly disrespectful.

user3: okay but what about lewis? we KNOW their relationship wasn’t always great. remember how tense they were in interviews back then?

-> user4: no way it’s lewis. he’s literally said she’s one of the most talented drivers he’s raced against.

-> user5: lewis can say nice things now, but what if he wasn’t like that back then? she didn’t say the guy stayed disrespectful. she also said x was nice in public, who knew what he was saying in private.

user6: everyone’s ignoring seb, but she’s shaded him before. what if it’s him?

-> user7: yn has ALWAYS defended seb. if anything, he was one of the few drivers who actually supported her. it’s not him.

user8: it has to be fernando. the whole paragraph is giving fernando energy, and you know it.

-> user9: nah, i still think it’s nico. remember when he threw shade at her in a press conference after she outqualified him?

user10: you’re all wrong. it’s michael. she’s talked about how intimidating he was to race against, and she never got along with him.

-> user11: yn literally called michael one of her idols. she’d never write about him like that.

user12: y’all are missing the obvious answer—kimi. he’s the only one who would say something that blunt and not care about the fallout.

-> user13: kimi didn’t even talk to her half the time lol. i can’t see him caring enough to belittle her.

user14: okay, what if it’s no one we’re expecting? maybe it’s some random mid-grid guy like grosjean or massa.

-> user15: yn wouldn’t waste a whole chapter on someone irrelevant. it has to be one of the big names. my money’s on fernando or nico.

-> user1: fernando for sure. yn’s always been lowkey bitter about him, and this just proves it.

-> user2: it’s not fernando!! why can’t you just accept that some drivers are cocky without it being him??

-> user3: okay but if it’s not fernando, who else would it be?? the smug comments SCREAM his vibe.

user5: we’re all arguing, but yn’s probably laughing at us right now. she KNEW we’d be doing this.

user16: yn ‘attention whore’ yln.

user17: at least we know it wasn’t my king jb 😻

user18: idk who tf yn is but this tea is so juicy 😭

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

[setting: thanksgiving dinner, complete chaos. plates of food are half-eaten, wine glasses are full, and cousin jess is recording everything on tiktok. the family is deep into an argument about “x marks the spot,” using jess’s infamous powerpoint as reference.]

uncle bob: jess, i still don’t get why you made a whole powerpoint about this.

cousin jess: because the people need to know, uncle bob. yn’s memoir is the drama of the decade, and you’re welcome for organizing all the evidence.

aunt carol: honestly, it’s that fernando. slide four proves it. all the press conferences where he interrupted her? it’s right there.

aunt fiona: fernando wasn’t that bad. he even congratulated her in, like, 2017. i think it’s nico. slide eight, jess literally wrote “petty king energy” under his name.

uncle hamish: it’s not nico. you’re all overthinking this. i say it’s jenson. didn’t he once call her “intense” in an interview?

cousin matt: jenson literally defended her against the media every other week, hamish. you clearly didn’t listen to slide six.

grandpa: i still don’t understand why this yn person didn’t just punch the guy.

grandma: because she has class, unlike this family. pass the stuffing.

aunt bobbi: wait, what about lewis? slide ten said they were “friendly but complicated.” maybe he was fake-nice to her.

uncle craig: fake-nice? lewis was the only one who liked her, bobbi. slide nine has like five examples of him hyping her up in interviews.

cousin jess: uncle craig, you’re wrong. he was supportive, but there’s that one time he ignored her after she beat him in qualifying. it’s suspicious.

aunt carol: you think it’s suspicious? no way. lewis isn’t smug enough to be x.

uncle hamish: oh please, you’re all just picking names because they sound dramatic. if anything, it was sebastian.

aunt fiona: seb? absolutely not. slide seven shows he called her “one of the best drivers on the grid” multiple times.

uncle bob: that’s suspicious. who compliments people that much unless they’re guilty?

grandma: compliments aren’t guilt, bob. stop eating the cranberry sauce straight from the bowl and get a grip.

aunt carol: you’re all wrong. slide four, people! fernando cutting her off mid-sentence! the man’s guilty as sin.

grandpa: why does anyone care about this? it’s all rich people in fancy cars. sounds like nonsense.

cousin matt: rich people drama is the best kind of drama, grandpa.

aunt bobbi: jess, why is kimi’s slide just a picture of him smoking with “#needthat” written under it?

cousin jess: because kimi’s innocent. everyone knows he doesn’t care about anything but being my dream man.

uncle craig: so why isn’t yn on the slide about drivers who were universally liked?

cousin jess: because she wasn’t universally liked, uncle craig. she was fast, hot, and female in a male-dominated sport. they were all salty.

uncle bob: well, now they’re all posting about how much they respect her.

grandma: of course they are. it’s called covering their asses.

uncle hamish: if i were yn, i’d name names. all this mystery is just fueling conspiracy theories.

grandpa: or she could just leave it alone so we don’t have to argue about it at thanksgiving. what the hell even is f1? is that nascar?

uncle craig: formula 1, dad. jesus, keep up.

grandma (snapping): if someone doesn’t pass me the cranberry sauce right now, i’m gonna be the next x.

[jess pans the camera to her grandma glaring at the table, muttering under her breath as the family keeps arguing.]

cousin jess (whispering into her phone): y’all, my family is losing it over x marks the spot. happy thanksgiving.

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liked by landopriv, ynupdates and 4,738,918 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: an update on the ‘x marks the spot’ speculation. it started over who exactly is x, from f1 legend yn yln’s memoir and it is causing a stir! with former/current drivers taking to social media and journalists to prove their innocence. kimi räikkönen, when asked, said ‘yn deserved every win she got. people talked too much, but she let her driving do all the talking. always respected that about her.’

mick schumacher released a statement via instagram, with a montage of photos of him and his dad with the first female championship winner: ‘my dad always believed yn was one of the most talented drivers he’d ever seen. he admired her strength, her skill, and her ability to prove everyone wrong, time and time again. he spoke so highly of her and what she brought to the sport, and i know he’d be so proud to see her telling her story.’ when sebastian vettel made a rare appearance to the grid, he confirmed that he had bought a copy and thought that he was proud to watch yn ‘make history’.

now the sudden flurry of support is making fans of the sport wonder just who is genuine and who is covering his ass? what do you think ham1ltons?

view all 2,983 comments

user1: the way literally everyone is tripping over themselves to prove it’s not them is SO funny. one of you is lying, and we will figure it out.

-> user20: exactly!! the fact that EVERYONE is suddenly posting/talking feels so suspicious lmao. someone’s definitely guilty, and they’re trying to throw us off the scent.

user2: kimi’s response is so him. short, straight, and unbothered. it’s definitely not him.

-> user22: we’re all analysing this, but kimi’s out here just vibing like always. love that man.

user3: mick’s statement is beautiful and wholesome as always, but also low-key throwing shade at the others?? like, ‘my dad always supported her’ is giving ‘can’t say the same for you lot.’

-> user21: honestly, mick’s post is the only one that feels 100% genuine. his dad was always so supportive of yn.

user4: seb really said ‘i bought the book’ and dipped. man didn’t even deny anything outright. sus??

-> user5: nah, seb’s always been a yn fanboy. remember when he called her ‘the most talented driver on the grid’? it’s not him.

user6: the lewis and nico posts are giving major ‘damage control’ energy. both of them trying WAY too hard to sound supportive.

-> user7: facts. lewis called her a ‘trailblazer’ like we wouldn’t notice how cold things were between them back in the day.

-> user17: tbh, i don’t think it’s lewis. yn has said before that he was always encouraging her, and they’ve stayed friendly.

user8: fernando’s post feels so rehearsed. like, when has he ever gushed over yn like that before??

user9: low-key think it’s nico. man was so salty about literally everything back then, and the ‘petty king’ vibes match the memoir perfectly.

-> user10: yesss, especially the part where she said he didn’t congratulate her after her first win. sounds EXACTLY like something nico would do.

user11: not enough people are talking about jenson. just because he was her teammate doesn’t mean he’s innocent. the whole ‘answer my texts’ thing was cute, but he’s a smooth talker.

-> user12: nah, yn always spoke highly of jenson. he had her back when mclaren was treating her like a sex toy. i’m ruling him out.

user13: so we’re all just ignoring that fernando spent YEARS shading her in press conferences? india ‘13 is permanently engraved in my brain.

-> user18: can’t lie, if it’s fernando, i’ll be disappointed but not surprised. his 2013 energy was… a lot.

user14: honestly, they’re all acting sketchy. the sudden love bomb of support is too much. one of you is x and we will find out.

user15: plot twist: what if x isn’t even one of the obvious names? imagine it’s someone random like felipe massa lmao.

-> user16: watch it not even be one of the main suspects and we’ve been dragging the wrong guy this whole time 💀

user18: it’s giving ‘we need to get ahead of the narrative’ vibes, and i’m here for the chaos.

-> user19: everyone’s pr team is in OVERDRIVE rn lmfaoooo

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @yongi-lee @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

[sealsdaily]

Today's Seal Is: The Ethereal Cherub

[alpali]

Atsumu cries at every heartfelt act you do for him. It doesn’t matter what it is.

You could give him a rock and say it reminded you of him and he’s damn near in tears.

Or if you call him over the phone and say you’re coming over with his favorite food. He’s trying to muffle his whimpers.

He just loves you so much and even though he teases you so so much for your sappy acts, he loves it all way too much.

So you can only imagine his reaction when you write him a letter for your guys anniversary. Gifting him a basket full of things and memories throughout your relationship.

He’s quiet for quite some time and it worries you that he didn’t like it. But it’s the exact opposite he loves it. When you hear his sniffles, you’re snapping your head towards him, brows pulling together.

“Sumu? What’s wrong?” You rush to his side, rubbing his back but he cries more.

“I jus’—”

He hiccups.

“I love you s’much. M’gonna marry you I swear.” He pouts, staring at you with his big shining eyes.

You laugh and it kind of embarrasses him but he doesn’t care.

“I love you.” He says again, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. You soothe his hair as he holds you and calms down.

“I’ll be waiting then.” You smile, hugging him just as tight.

[sjyuns]

SOFT SPOT ┆ A PARK JONGSEONG ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! love is a crazy thing, and you’d always been absorbed in the idea of it, 100% committed as your school’s cupid but cupid deserves love too, right?

GENRE! strangers to lovers, basketballer!jay (there’s barely any basketball in this), mutual pining, simp!jay, high school au

WARNINGS! some sexual innuendos, drinking, partying, mentions of cheating and abortion

WORD COUNT! 9OOO+

MIKAELA’S! inspired by some book i read i think… this is from my old blog eumpapas, i’m not copying anyone please… also happy mega birthday to the man who made me start watching iland🙏🏻 DNA jay this one is for you.

BEING cupid isn’t easy, and it’s definitely not a task for the weak. Carrying around a heavy basket of heart shaped tipped arrows and a bow slung behind you as you matchmake, aim, and shoot, injecting pink that knits into a person’s bones.

Many people applaud you — for so intelligently pairing up matches together. But what they don’t realise is the immense effort it takes. Cupid may be an icon of love, but you barely have one of your own. And you wish, that there is another cupid out there aiming their love tipped arrow at you.

i. ugh, men

The piece of paper in your hands rubs against your palms as you take yet another glance at the capitalised name written in neon pink before looking back up at the blond hair boy in front of you.

“Jay? I mean- not discriminating or anything but you want me to link you up with Park Jongseong?” You furrow your brows, looking at Jake with pure curiosity.

His eyes widen as he realises what this might have seemed like. “No, no,” he furiously shakes his head, “he’s my bro, what are you even talking about.”

You tilt your head as you scan the nervous footballer who’s too busy fidgeting in his seat to realise, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous — even more than before a crucial game, and you wonder what’s come over him.

“Jake, the neon pink sparkly pen? If you’re not in love with your best friend, what puts you in such a lovesick mood?” You ask, flapping the crumpled piece of paper at him as he sighs.

“Firstly, it’s a smiggle pink scented pen, get it right. And secondly, it’s not really about matchmaking, I just need your help with something.” He groans at the accusations you’ve pasted on him. 

You purse your lips, “Jake, you know I don’t do anything other than matchmaking. I would really like to help, but I’ve been a little tight on time recently.”

Before you can grab your bag from the small round coffee table, he swiftly brings his hands up, stopping you from leaving. His eyes held such desperation that your body seemed to move back down by itself.

“Look, this is kind of like matchmaking, think of it as helping a blossoming couple out. Please.” His plea of desperation squeezing your heart ever so slightly.

“Has this blossoming couple got something to do with you and that pretty best friend of yours?” You raise your eyebrows, as you shoot a knowing look at him. It wasn’t rocket science, and it didn’t take a genius to know that Jake was deeply in love, fully head over heels: entranced with his best friend. And as Cupid, no doubt you had such information at the back of your hand.

Jake holds back a smile by biting his lips, eyes darting away in fear of professing his love, “look, Jay’s just been such a cockblock recently, they’ve been friends for a while but nowadays they’ve been hanging out together a lot more. Alone. Do you understand how big of a crisis this is? All I need you to do is watch him, maybe use those matchmaking skills of yours to match him up with someone?”

You look at the pitiful state of the boy in front of you, with his hands constantly moving to brush his hair back in his withered stressful state. And you can’t help it — as someone who’s all about love, you find yourself agreeing to help him, even if you were already swarmed with four other couples to matchmake.

You find the list in your head getting longer as you ask Jake about Jay, the tiny book in your head that’s filled with possible matches seeming a little empty at Jake’s description of Jay’s ideal type, likes, and dislikes.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve heard about Jay, in fact it was probably about the nth time with the amount of girls who come swarming to you with bleak hope that you’d be able to matchmake them with him. And of course, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive — with his coveted status as the vice captain of the basketball team, and not to forget his matte black Porsche he drives to school everyday, it would be weird if he wasn’t popular.

But what’s all that when Park Jay had a dick for a personality. Well, at least that’s what the rumours say.

And you’re about to confirm it right here right now as you stand outside the sports hall, the squeaking of court shoes piercing through your ears as you stall by rechecking Jake’s text.

Jay’s at basketball practice till nine, maybe you can catch him there.

The time on your phone blares a bright ‘0925’, and you curse yourself for not having the guts to say no to Jake — because as much as you are Cupid, you’re also weak hearted, and you don’t know how to handle a devilishly handsome boy who’s said to have a bad attitude.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding, getting ready to push the door until it swings open from the other side and the vision in front of you turns from the freshly painted navy blue doors to a tall, lean boy with a number 99 plastered on the front of his jersey.

Holy shit, you think, and you wish you could duck around quickly and scurry away, yet your feet remain firmly planted to the ground as your eyes linger on the face in front of you.

“Something wrong, Cupid?” 

You open your mouth only to close it yet again. Because despite the harsh tone or recognition his voice held, you were mesmerised. You’ve only ever seen Jay from afar and now up close, he looks like a collection of violet-tinted heartbreak and soft silver snow — as the ferocious intensity he emits settles itself in the sharp dip of his cupid’s bow. His beauty is devastating, and your task is forgotten for a moment as you take in his black hair damp with sweat and the slender set of collarbones revealed by his jersey.

The boy looks like an angel and siren all at once, and fuck it if he isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Even prettier than Lee Heeseung, the attractive basketballer you’ve known since middle school (who you had a tiny crush on back then.)

It takes you forty two seconds and Jay bending down to snap you out of your gaze. And you find yourself not being able to do anything but shift back as the boy smoothly ties your shoelaces which you must have left undone in a rush to reach here on time.

“Thanks,” you say honestly, voice too breathy as your veins pump with embarrassment. 

He smiles softly, “don’t mention it, wouldn’t want you to trip and fall, right?”

You pause, and you hate how awkward you are during unplanned encounters. “Right,” you say, stumbling over your own words, “I mean- uhm, yeah! Thanks, but- I could have tied them myself.”

Jay laughs, and it’s a little husky as you capture the sound. “Right. You’re cute when you ramble.”

Right now, you wished you possessed the charm you usually carried when talking to other targets — bold and feminine. But with a mere sentence, Jay had the ability to reduce you to a young girl talking to an infatuation for the first time. And you think the rumours are false, because the boy in front of you seemed nothing like the playboy you’ve heard about: barely seeming to have an ounce of smooth confidence in his bones.

“You’re here for me, aren’t you Cupid? Did someone want you to matchmake me with them? Or are you on some sort of mission?” His sudden change of tone throws you off, arrogance radiating off him as the look in his eyes change. Bolder, sharper.

You think that you’re an idiot, for falling for his innocent façade, for believing those rumours were fake. Because now Jay looks like he’s playing god, with a devil’s smirk etched onto his face. 

“Does the name Jake Sim ring a bell?” It amazes you how blunt he sounds, mouth tense and one corner slightly tilted down. And it pisses you off, how handsome he still seemed.

“He’s the captain of the soccer team,” you try, avoiding the question all together, “who doesn’t know him.”

The boy in front of you seems unsatisfied, “not what I was asking and you know it,” he declines, a borderline genius glinting in his eyes. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He smirks, brushing his hair back, “you’re telling me that my best friend didn’t hand you a note with my name on it, asking you to keep an eye on me?”

Fuck. How does he know?

You send him a cool grin — and thank goodness your usual calm and composed exterior is back — as you slowly walk towards him, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Not everything in life is about you Jay, so get lost.” You pause. “Please.”

A part of his tenacity amazes you when he fails to keep his mouth shut, and you feel annoyed at his stubborn persistence. “Everyone knows your little love business, Y/n,” Jay elaborates, making you grit your teeth. His voice is like liquid mercury, toxic yet smooth. “There’s always talk about a new happy couple and a pretty pretty girl who set them up.”

And as if on instinct, your hands move up to twirl the ends of your hair, “what about it, Park?”

“You’re telling me that Jake Sim didn’t meet you today? Look me in the eyes and say it.” 

You stare into the eyes of the boy who looks like he could be a model, heart betraying you as it escalates. “I didn’t meet Jake Sim at Starbucks today. Quit bothering me, alright?”

“I didn’t say it was Starbucks,” Jay states brazenly, his head tilting in princely arrogance as you watch a small smirk settle on the crook of his mouth. “I thought good girls like you never lie.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathe in sharply, “get lost.”

Jay tucks one hand into his pocket, tugging his lips into a small smile, “You go first, I’ll follow you.”

Your cheeks heat a dark shade of red as you dread to have to tell Jake that Jay knew of your deal.

“Wait,” he says as you turn, gently grabbing your wrists. He might seem a bit rough on the outside, with arrogance lining his collarbones, but when he touches you, it’s surprisingly soft. “Don’t tell him I know. All I’ve been doing is giving her advice about approaching Jake and I don’t want to ruin any surprise she might have planned.”

You nod slowly, pieces coming together in your head. “So you want me to be your double agent?”

Jay smiles, and if you were honest, it might have been the most genuine you’ve seen him today. “Why not? Not like you’d take the chances of spoiling a couple’s confession. Live a little.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, “I live a lot, Park, maybe more than you’ve ever lived.” You pause, “ and if you want me to, you should fix that attitude of yours. God knows how you bag girls acting like a dick.”

Jay presses his hands to his chest in mock pain. “Your words hurt, Cupid,” he pouts, eyes glistening, “so are you in?”

“Depends,” you admit, “maybe if you take me on a ride in that cool car of yours.”

He thinks for a moment. “Fine.”

A smile blooms on your lips, and you’re too triumphant to notice the way Jay’s breath hitches as he takes a small step backwards, as if your aura was too potent, too powerful for him to breathe in.

“Deal.”

ii. a short guide on handling a crazy heart

The last place you’d ever think of telling your best friend, Yunjin, about your encounter with a certain vice captain was in the bathroom of a stranger’s house, with the latest hits blaring into your eardrums. “He’s got a dick for a personality,’ you scream over the music as she fixes her hair in the mirror, “he’s arrogant, infuriating, and he doesn’t know when to stop.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” she replies, giving you a knowing look through the mirror, and you roll your eyes at her comment. “So what exactly did Jay want you to do again?” Yunjin’s eyebrows raise as she asks her question for the fifth time this week, and you think if your friend wasn’t so pretty, you would have purposefully messed up her hair in annoyance.

You sigh, “he wants me to be a double agent of some sort, he doesn’t want to ruin his hard work of giving advice,” you admit, “I’m practically sandwiched between two best friends.”

“Aw, you guys are like a pair of cupids,” Yunjin says thoughtfully, “you and Jay. And I guess it brings no harm. Though you might be pissed with his personality, someone has to get under that thick skin of yours. He might just be the one to do it.”

You shoot her the finger accompanied by a glare as the two of you finally exit the bathroom to the bustling scene of the party, with sweaty bodies swaying to the rhythm of music blasting from the speakers.

“Y/n!” A golden voice calls out, making you turn over your shoulder, to find Jake waving you over excitedly, with a tall boy dressed in all black beside him, leaning against the wall coolly as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.

There’s an ineffable feeling that crawls into your stomach when you see Jay, as if he held all the power in the world to crush you with a glance. “Come play beer pong with us, we need two more people.” Jake's voice goes through your ears before leaving through the other side as you nod aimlessly, eyes trained on Jay’s figure — lean back muscles that were visible through the shirt that hugged his figure, as you and Yunjin follow them into another room.

“Me and Jay against the two of you,” Jake grins as he nudges you by the shoulder to the other side of the ping pong table, a few familiar faces surrounding the area.

“I’m out, ask Heeseung to play instead,” Jay mutters under his breath, but you catch it despite the loud chatter amongst the crowd. And it dims the small excited flame burning in your heart.

You watch as Jake sighs, “come on bro, don’t be a party pooper. First Sunghoon ditches to go god knows where with that neighbour of his, and now you?” Jay moves to comb through his slicked back black hair, eyebrows furrowing as he calls Heeeung over.

Looking at Heeseung, you realise that Jay and him were two completely different kinds of beautiful: Heeseung had a sharp jawline and soft curves; Jay, on the other hand, had a kind of edge and arrogance constantly lining the corners of his mouth, and it’s unconventional. To say the least. Everything about him was to you.

“Come on Park, don’t spoil the fun,” you pitch into the conversation, as the three heads turn towards you, “or are you scared you’re going to get trashed by two girls?”

Jay mutters a chain of words under his breath as he steps out of the tiny circle they’ve made, towards you, his gaze centred on you. And it suddenly feels silent as Jay’s eyes start at the tips of your toes, sliding across the smooth expanse of your legs and past your torso, lingering on the slight curvature of your neck before landing on your lips. Your swallow is embarrassingly audible in the unusual quietness, but you soon clear your throat.

He’s so handsome it makes you want to scream. You hate how good he looks; you hate how he looks at you, like you’re something of his affections. And you hate yourself for actually liking the attention, because even though you always state that you hate him, you know it’s not true.

Jay just gets on your nerves.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cupid. Who knew you could ever look so stunning?” And just like that, the moment’s over.

“Shut the hell up, Park. All you have to do is throw a ball into a cup, or are your basketball skills that bad?” You challenge him, and Jay lets out a laugh: a real laugh that you want to hear again and again and again, because it sounds like silver music and he’s beautiful.

And you hate yourself and your feelings.

“If that's what you think,” he breathes, as he stares into your eyes, “let’s make a bet then. If I win, you have to come to a basketball game of mine — because you’ve clearly not been to one, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. And if you magically happen to win, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Maybe his car, maybe you could ask him to give you his car, you think as you set your mind on winning. Not one ounce of doubt that you’d be able to beat Jay, because despite not having attended one basketball game, you think that you had sufficient skill to win. He can’t be that good, right?

And once again Jay proves you wrong as he effortlessly scores cup after cup, and you’re buzzed, barely able to comprehend your surroundings as the crowd cheers his and Jake’s name. The only words you hear clearly is Jake’s extremely loud cry of excitement as Jay throws yet another ping pong ball into the last cup on your side of the table.

“See how it’s done, angel? I’m not vice captain for no reason,” he smirks as he rounds the table to your side. Though you’re half gone, you’re suddenly grateful for the dim lighting because you’d be caught dead by the boy next to you if he sees your flushed cheeks at the new nickname he’d just given you.

“Anyone told you not to randomly call strangers angel?” You hiss, as he gently wraps an arm around your waist, steadying your wobbling figure. Jay shrugs, and you huff out a breath, “it does something to them, okay?”

The boy looks down at you, thumb brushing over your cheeks — and you tell your weak heart to calm down, “what does it do, angel? Tell me,” he mutters under his breath, and he’s too close to you, because you can feel the weight of his words sink into your body as the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“It hurts me, them, right here,” you reply, closing your eyes to tame the nauseating feeling in your brain, as your finger points to your heart, “makes their heart go boom.”

You don’t see anything, but you can feel Jay’s hands wrapped carefully around the nape of your neck, fingers entangled in your hair, as the other cradles the smooth, glass-like skin of your jaw, thumbs once again brushing with a tantalising shimmer. His breath smells of sangria and mint, and the sensation is just warm as you’re cast unceremoniously under his addicting spell.

“Yeah?” He whispers, and you nod softly.

“Yeah,” you answer, “so stop it, whatever that was. It’s annoying.”

Your eyes open and you see Jay smirking in his trademark expression, and you click your tongue in annoyance, pretending as if your heart wasn’t about to jump out of your chest.

“But that’s what you are, aren’t you? Cupid - Angel, same thing.” He replies, and you’re about to answer, but decide not to as his words swirl around in your chest.

“What are you even doing here anyway?” you groan, changing to topic as you furrow your eyebrows, vision betraying you as Jay’s devilishly handsome face duplicates itself under intoxication. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drink when you were such a lightweight.

“Don’t think too hard, angel,” Jay teases, “or else your head will start hurting.”

“Shut up asshole,” you roll your eyes, trying to concentrate on the boy in front of you instead of the pounding in both your head and chest.

Jay grins, and you can see a little bit of evilish impurity and jaded sleekness — like a trained jaguar waiting to pounce. “Shut me up then,” he murmurs, “kiss me, angel.”

“If I kissed you, you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” you announce, and you busk in this moment because you’re sure you’d forget it tomorrow morning.

“And if I kissed you, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Your vision goes black.

You wake up buzzing out your mind, surprisingly in your own bed, with not a hint of remembrance of last night’s drunken conversation.

“Just get out, get some fresh air, it’s good for hangovers,” Yunjin says, all dolled up and ready to patronise the new cafe she’s been raving about, while you sit at the edge of your bed, staring daggers at her with your hair all messed up and head still spinning.

You groan, “are you insane,” your hand moving up to rub your eyes furiously, “must feel good not to be a lightweight.”

Maybe it’s your friend’s persuasion skills or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re easily persuaded because after ten minutes, you find yourself decently dressed and walking into the small diner situated around the corner as the striking ring of the bell pierces into your head, making you wince.

“Jake, fancy see you here again,” Yunjin shouts across the diner to a small four person booth where you see said boy’s head popping out. 

“Yunjin, Yn,” Jake waves, as Yunjin pulls you yet again to Jake, exactly like how she did yesterday night. “You know my best friend,” Jake introduces, staring at her as she waves, a bright smile that could bring a boy to his knees.

“Cupid or yn, right?” She asks, with clear confidence exuding out of her, “Jay’s cupid.”

You cough at her words, eyes darting to Jake’s face as you tilt your head in question. “Jay’s told me or well me and Jake about you.” She clears up, moving your suspicions away from her best friend.

“Right,” Jake chimes in, “surprised you’re still alive after yesterday. You knocked out mid conversation with Jay and he drove you and Yunjin home.”

“Come again,” you turn to look at Yunjin, eyebrows furrowed as she gives you a guilty look. 

“He had a nice car, and he offered, what could i even do with you alone,” she murmurs under her breath and you slap her shoulder.

“Actually, Jay’s here if you want to talk to him,” Jake brings up, looking around for the boy. And your eyes widen at his words, tugging Yunjin’s sleeves as an indication to leave.

“Yn, Yunjin,” and you curse yourself because Jay sounds so good in the early hours of the morning, too good, with his slightly raspy and deep voice that you wished to hear over and over.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing how you are when you’re drunk. Embarrassment swallowing you whole and spitting you out at the thoughts of what you might have done in your drunken state consuming you.

“You okay angel?” You turn around at the sound of the nickname that pinches at your heart, “after what happened last night, I thought you’d never see the light of day again.” The familiar devilish smirk is cued and you know you shouldn’t be trusting him yet you are as your cheeks heat up.

Jay chuckles at your abashed state as he gazes at you, wondering how you looked so good even in a plain white shirt and shorts. Like an angel, and he thinks the nickname he’s given you is spot on.

“Don’t remember? Then I’ll leave it to your imagination,” he says, leaning into you. As you freeze, eyes dart from his face to his lips for a second before looking back up. You don’t know what’s come over you because your usual calm demeanour has been flushed out, replaced with the resounding of your rapidly beating heart.

“Can’t believe you’d do such a thing to me, angel.”

Your imagination runs wild especially after you watch Jay walk out the diner with a winner’s smile on his face, head racing with embarrassing scenarios as he consumes your mind day and night.

iii. pink eyes, pink hearts, the whole world turns pink when i’m with you

When you meet Jake again at the same small rounded Starbucks table, you tell him Jay has no intentions of getting together with his girl. He smiles and tells you that there’s no longer a need for you to ever talk to Jay again, and for some reason it bugs the hell out of you.

You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you can’t stop thinking about the golden confidence that surrounds his body like second skin, or the way he walks — like he’s it. Maybe it’s the way his hair still looks perfect after hours of sweat and playing basketball, or maybe it’s just because he knows exactly how to get you heated.

You hate thinking about him too much, because you’re afraid that your cheeks will flush a cherry red and you’ll start remembering how he bent down to tie your shoelaces or how his muscular arm wrapped gently around your waist as he entertained your drunk blabbering ( you cried for three days upon remembering this, cursing Yunjin for not helping you out ). So you don’t think about Jay, how he’s so so pretty and you certainly don’t think about the straightness of his nose, or the birthmark on his neck.

It’s a Friday night, and the campus is empty, students all gathered to watch the football game. And you feel an uneasy sensation settling at the bottom of your stomach. Something’s terribly off, you realise, as you look at your shadow and see another following you at an awfully close distance.

I fucking hate men, you conclude, as you clutch the pepper spray you keep in your jacket pocket, and you continue walking in the same direction like nothing’s wrong. You can’t call Yunjin, because she’s busy cheering her head off at the football game, you think as you try to strategise. And you silently curse as you watch the shadow get closer, it’s fine, you think, you’re strong and fast — and your trusty pepper spray never betrays you.

You turn around and spray the small can in the face of your follower, jumping back to see if the chemicals did the desired damage. But when the air clears, all you see is Jay’s gorgeous face crying profusely.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you repeat again and again, and he doesn’t say anything. “I’m so sorry, Jay. Are you crying?”

The boy in front of you doesn’t look at you, blinking through his red eyes and burning tears as he takes the tissue you’ve offered him. You watch his swollen, puffy eyes as tears roll down and collect at the corner of his chin.

It’s not the time to laugh, you think, maybe just a little. And you have a strong urge to whip out your phone from your back pocket and take a picture of the once in a lifetime view in front of you.

So you do. And Jay isn’t having it.

“You know,” he says, voice scratchy, “you’re the most difficult fucking person I’ve ever met in my life.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his obvious compliment, “how would I know that you weren’t some pedophilic stalker who’s come to kill me!” You look at his pitiable state and you stop, “I’m really sorry.” Your voice softens.

“Say it again.” And his commanding tone makes you feel not so apologetic anymore.

“Go to hell.”

Jay sighs in annoyance, “that’s cute,” he replies, and you ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “I just saw you and wanted to talk to you, and maybe give you my jersey, for our bet.” His voice reminds you of springtime love and dragonfruit hibiscus, of frenzied thrills and mysterious shadows.

“Oh, where is it?” You ask, as if the thought of wearing his jersey to watch your first ever basketball game didn’t excite you even a little bit. His fingers clasp around your wrist, pulling you to a carpark where he had parked.

He unlocks his car, one hand still pressing the piece of tissue against his eye as the other swiftly opens the boot of the car. “Here, it’s washed, don’t worry — since you seem like that kind of person.”

You give him a look, as you watch him remove the tissue from his eye. It’s turned a shade of pink now, less puffy and less glassy. “What exactly do you mean by that Park, and here I was thinking of treating you for ice cream in return for giving you a pink eye.”

He huffs a tired sigh, “with the way you’re tiring me out, you should treat me for ice cream.”

And you look at Jay, who’s glowing under the rim streetlights despite his obvious red eye ( kudos to you ). With cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes liquid scotch, Park Jay is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn’t even know it. You’re addicted, even if your mind disagrees with your heart.

Stars could gleam all throughout the night sky and yet you’d still prefer to watch them through his eyes. And you think that you’re fucked, because you’ve never really thought of anyone like that. Not even Lee Heeseung, you only liked him because he was the fastest runner in middle school, but Jay — Jay made you feel like treasured snow in a globe kept by a bedside, he makes you feel like a fever dream.

“If you drive me, I will,” you say and he grins, jogging over to open the passenger seat for you.

“I’ll take a pistachio ice cream,” he orders as he slides into the driver’s seat and you enjoy the cool, crisp air blowing at you.

You choke at his words, “pistachio?” as your head tilts in question, “who eats pistachio nowadays? Everyone eats mint chocolate chip.”

Jay’s face contorts into an expression of disgust as he scrunches his eyebrows, taking his eyes away from the road to face you. “Honestly expected more from you angel, but I’m not surprised, just disappointed.”

“And I expected more from you, Park.” You comment, “who the hell doesn’t like mint chocolate chip?”

He groans at your argument, “it’s fucking toothpaste on a cone, what is there to like?” 

You gasp, mouth wide open ready to fight back till he sighs, eyes rolling as he turns into the parking lot of Baskin Robbins, “fine, I’ll give mint chocolate chip another try if you try pistachio. We’ll try each other's ice cream, okay?”

Smiling, you nod, happy that you’d win the argument, even if it meant having to try some weird nutty flavour of ice cream. “I’ll go get it, wait for me.”

You jog into the store, excited to finally treat yourself to ice cream — and for Jay’s expression when he eats mint chocolate chip because you know his face would scrunch up ( and you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to take yet another picture ).

You come back out into the parking lot, and you see Jay, with another girl pressed up awfully close to him, and it feels like your throat is closing up, squeezing as you feel the urge to rip the two apart. It looks wrong — Jay and her, and you think it’s what your knowledge and years of being Cupid is saying ( or maybe it’s your heart ). You hate it, hate the way she’s looking at him as if he’s some fallen God from heaven, hate the way she shifts closer to him even when he’s trying to avoid touching her.

You move before you know it, and you expertly loop your arm around Jay’s waist after passing his cup of ice cream to him. Red hot satisfaction lighting up inside of you as Jay rests his arm around you — as if it’s his natural instinct, and his expression of annoyance morphs into one of a devilish smirk that you were now well acquainted with. 

“You’re back, angel,” Jay murmurs, as he kisses the top of your head, his voice reverberating in your temples. 

“Yeah,” you say, grinning sweetly at him before shooting the girl a glare: eyes turning into stilts as you give the clueless girl yet another warning sign. It doesn’t take long for the intruder to awkwardly excuse herself before you click your tongue in annoyance, turning around to face Jay who had a foreign expression on his face.

“Is my angel jealous?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, and your heart fawns at the small movement that was ridiculously attractive. He hums, smiling sharply as your breath catches.

You clear your throat and look away, well aware that your hand still lingers on his chest and you have no motivation to move it. “Shut up.” And you feel panic rising, bubbling. This is bad. This is too dangerous.

“I could shut you up instead,” Jay murmurs, stepping even closer and a thrill runs through your body. “Want me to?”

“You’re such an arrogant asshole,” you whisper, slapping his shoulders without any real force, “why would you ask me this kind of question.” Your heart is screaming a resounding yes.

“Because I’m a gentlemen,” Jay glares at you, and this tension between the both of you — like cold fire and hot ice, erupts in a lick of blue, crystallised flames. “So I’ll ask you another time,” he pulls you towards him, “can I kiss you, angel?”

You can’t take it anymore. “Stop talking and just do it.”

You pull him down by his collar and press your lips onto his, feeling your skin heat up as his lips move on yours. Holy shit, you think. He’s an expert kisser. And it might be ironic because it’s your first kiss ever, but you believe that nothing after can ever top this. 

His hands rest on your waist, then to your jaw, then to your neck — and you feel. Feel the tip of his tongue asking for entrance at the inner part of her bottom lip, feel the way he’s kissing you roughly but smoothly at the same time, hair brushing your forehead and breathing unsteady against yours. Jay tastes like a blessed curse, a collection of angelic alcohol on a summer evening, and you want to hold him and never let go.

Because you’re making out with Jay, and your heart is pounding as you rest your thumb on his pulse and feel it flaring wildly, recklessly. Oh my god, you think, as he squeezes your waist before breaking the kiss — eyes slightly hooded as he stares at you in adoration that sparkles under the midnight sky.

He will be the death of you.

iv. three ways to ruin park jongseong

Jay thinks that there’s three ways to ruin him.

One: The kid’s viking ride at amusement parks. It absolutely destroys him, and his hair that he works on for hours in the morning. His knees get weak and his brain thrown out of his body as he squeezes his eyes shut, begging heaven to let him live another day even before the ride starts. 

Two: Mint chocolate ice cream. Which was why he surprised himself when he agreed to give it another try for you. He absolutely distastes the flavour, as the creamy cavity inducing toothpaste taste coats the roof of his mouth, he winces in disgust. The only exception, he thinks, is when he kisses you and he tastes it. Instead of its usual nauseating effect, it instead tastes like love drunk cherry epidermises. 

Three: You. With his jersey hanging from your shoulders, and he can smell his cologne, as you brush past him, eyes forming crescents as you greet him. “Hey Jay, are you ready for the game?”

His heartstrings tug, quicker and quicker at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. And he might be a little foolish when it comes to love, but he thinks that this was the way his name was meant to be said. 

“Jay? What, cat got your tongue?” You laugh, smiling. And he thinks he’s fallen for your laugh — that’s utterly contagious, your smile — which made him giddy for no reason, and the way you weren’t scared to annoy the hell out of him. 

He doesn’t know if this feeling is normal, because despite the rumours, Jay’s never had a girlfriend, nor has he ever been with a girl; relationship or not, and it was all Heeseung who had girls around all the goddamn time. With them, he felt sick at the way they whined to touch his hair. But you, you ruin him the most, even more than the viking ship ride. And all his life, Jay’s been a pretty systematic person, but now he doesn’t know where to start, what to do about it.

“Come again angel, didn’t catch that,” he replies, eyes catching yours as he turns into the school car park, one arm slung over the back of your seat as he reverses into a lot. 

You groan, cheeks pink, and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. “I said, are you scared the other team will trash you to pieces?”

Jay chuckles, at your sharp tongue and the way you skillfully tease him. “I’m not scared, why would I be? With an angel cheering for me, I literally have God on my side.” He gets out and rounds his car, moving over to open your side of the door as he watches you lick your honey lips in nervousness. Under the 7pm tinted red and orange skies of a Wednesday, Jay realises how blue he’d feel without you now that you’re here.

“Who,” you pause, as you try not to jumble up your words, “who said I’d cheer for you?” A lazy smirk painted on your face, as you praise yourself for not tripping over the nervous butterflies the boy in front of you gave your stomach.

“You’re here with me,” he says, eyes trained on you as you lean back onto the side of his car, “I drove you here, I will be walking in with you, the jersey you’re wearing has my name on it. And, I invited you to the game in front of half the school population at that party. You see the pattern here, angel? It’s us or nothing.”

The way his eyes hold your gaze as his hands graze over yours melts you. And you’re so drunk in him, you feel as if you could touch the clouds in the salmon sky.

“What if I exchange my jersey with another girl?” You say, eyes glinting with mischief as you fold your arms, testing him. “Or maybe I’ll sell it, I’ve heard that this jersey is a pretty coveted item here in Decelis.”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance and you grin, “girls like you are the bane of my existence.”

“Girls like me?” You raise an eyebrow, “love, I’m one of a kind.”

“Yeah, you are. You are the bane of my existence.” Jay nods in agreement, as he slings his bag over his shoulder, and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, guiding you into the unfamiliar sports hall. He thinks he’s playing with something dangerous — because you’re tangerine dusts of fire, flames that warm his skin and he relishes your warmth as you intoxicate his brain, his mind, as the smoothness of your skin lingers on his fingertips.

“Sit,” he says, pointing to an empty spot he reserved for you. 

“I’m not your dog,” you retort, begrudgingly.

“Love of my life, light of my eyes, my all, would you please do me a kind favour and take a seat? I don’t want to tire those pretty legs of yours. Not like this.” 

Oh.

You laugh, and it’s so loud that you can feel the eyes of others on you. Yet you’re fully focused on the devilish man in front of you. And you think, if you were very brave or honest you would tell him — that you might have fallen for his charming ways, sly smile, and god-like features.

“That’s right,” you grin as he shakes his head at your bratty behaviour. 

“Anything for the princess,” he bows, and he doesn’t realise it but he’s smiling. Wide. And just like that you’re woven into his veins and he needs you like sin.

Jay makes up his mind that today’s match would be the best match he’s ever played. Not because you were here, sitting at the front row of the bleachers. Well, maybe, maybe it was because he wanted to hear you cheer his name, watch you grin in celebration as he scores hoop after hoop, and maybe because then — only then can he smoothly ask you to celebrate his win with him over dinner.

And that is exactly what he does. 

“You did so good, Jay, when you twirled around that dude and threw the ball into the ring,” You say, reenact Jay’s winning shot, the jingle of the bell of your favourite diner that you recommended Jay to go to ringing as you enter the small place.

Jay think’s it’s extremely endearing, the way you call the basketball hoop a ring, or how you explain his moves as if he was a dancer on stage — twirling, he thinks he could work with that.

Jay directs you to a booth to sit in and a waiter comes to take your orders. You request a double cheeseburger and so does Jay. And he notes down the way you toy with the salt and pepper shakers, rips up the edge of a napkin, and clinks silverware together in odd amusement; you don’t ever stop moving, it seems. And it’s adorable.

“Tell me about your business,” Jay prompts, elbow settled on the table as you grumble in protest.

You shake your head, pursing your lips in refusal, “It’s a little embarrassing.”

“No it’s not,” Jay huffs, “I think it’s interesting.”

And so you tell him. “People pay me to matchmake them with someone they’re attracted to,” you mumble, “and sometimes I get paid more when I get a request to play a certain role.”

“What kind of role?” Jay asks, full of curiosity.

“Well, on Saturday Yoo Jimin is paying me to act like an innocent girl who her boyfriend was two timing with — he cheats a lot you see, and she wants to finally dump him.” You elaborate, “I don’t accept all of these requests, I choose them. I get a whole lot of weird ones too so that's a big no.”

“Isn’t that cruel,” Jay comments, but a drop of pity found nowhere in his voice. And you laugh, tilting your head back. He watches, eyes following the curve of your throat.

“Maybe,” you say, “but cheaters deserve it. Especially when Jimin’s boyfriend has hooked up with multiple girls.”

“So you like to roleplay?” Your mouth drops open.

“Is that all you got out of my explanation? That I may like to roleplay?” You scoff as Jay grins, “sadly for you Jay, I don’t.”

He glares at you and you glare back at him even harder. “Right,” he snaps, “how could anyone ever put up with you to begin with? You’re impossible.”

“That’s mean,” you pout, eyes flickering to his as you rest your chin on the palm of your hands. “You’re mean, Jay. I really hate you.” False.

“And you’re a devil’s spawn.”

You gasp, “you wound me, Jay. I thought I was your angel.”

You are, he thinks as he stares at you. And Park Jongseong wants to kiss you — but only in the most connotative way possible, so that no dictionary definition would ever stand a chance to describe how your lungs could be filled with the sweetest air possible and yet you’d still be so breathless. Often, pictures the both of you holding hands, watching a movie, sitting on the beach hearing your laugh throughout the day, catching your smile and he hopes that at the very least you think of him when your eyes are closed.

Roseate cheekbones, pearlescent soft lips, and bickering emanates love as the both of you fill the quiet dinner with intimate chatter. 

And the night dies down all while Jay thinks about how you’re a vivid dream of lust and harmonies, euphoria reeking upon your entire figure, lips tainted with surreal giggles — and that the saliva in your throat is yet rather angel dust that converts into musical laughter, music he loved to hear as he watches you.

v. mascara stained cheeks, bruised skin, and a crumpled piece of paper.

“He must be really fucking into the cheating shit if he’s meeting his side chick an hour away from our school,” Jay grunts as he pulls over at the entrance of the restaurant Jimin sent you. 

Today, you’re donned in a different style — sweatpants and a random big sweatshirt you stole from Jay’s backseat. Your hair messed up and your mascara smudged. It wasn’t really part of the job to be dramatic, but you only live once, so what’s the point of living boringly?

Jay scans your face for the fifth time in an hour, “you look exceptionally pretty today, angel. You really live up to your pet name.”

You grin, eyes rolling as you shuffle through your bag to take out a positive pregnancy test, mind sifting through your checklist — mascara check, positive test check. “Jay, love, it’s called dedication. You obviously do not have such a quality.”

His heart spins when you call him love. And it’s crazy, because he’s staring at you — with makeup smudged all over your face, positive pregnancy test in your hand from God knows where, drowning in his oversized sweatshirt yet he thinks you’re pretty, too pretty. And if that wasn’t dedication, he doesn’t know what is.

“I’m dedicated,” he says. And you raise your eyebrows in question.

“To what Jay? And don’t say basketball cause everyone in the world knows that you’re in love with it. Honest to G-”

“You,” He cuts you off, as he watches sunlight seep through the windows of his car onto your cheekbones, softly portraying faint constellations of stars upon them. He watches as your orbs glimmer with fervour, lips parting slightly to expose a marvelled gasp, and he hopes that the hazed longing in his eyes has reached you.

You cough, eyes dodging his gaze as you shift. “Not now, Jay. Not when I look like this.” And it’s enough for Jay to start smiling. He’s amused, that all that mattered to you right now was how you looked when he was about to confess to you.

“Fine,” he laughs, “I’ll do it when you look prettier than you look now.” You hum as you appreciate the way his arms look under the sunlight through the windows. Before today, you’ve never associated attractiveness with driving, but the slight imprint of his veins along with his lean muscles turned your mouth drier than usual.

“Only you get me, love,” you say, as you mess your hair up a little bit more in the mirror. “How do I look?”

“Like a sex addict.” You slap him, hard across his chest. “What? You asked!”

“You can’t say things like that to a girl,” you tell him, hiding a secret smile. “Be a gentleman, say I look great and wish me luck.”

“You’d only be looking good when you’re going on a date with me, roleplaying or not.” He mutters under his breath as you shoot him yet another glare. “Fine,” Jay gives in, leaning over the control panel, and he’s dangerously close to you. “Good luck, angel.”

In front of you, everything is still. Jay, time, galaxies, constellations pause to dawn upon him and gaze at you, who’s clearly unaware of your beauty. “Happy?”

You nod and he smirks, “Why so quiet now angel?”

“Just shut up and get on with our act.”

He laughs before the two of you go over your plans again: Jay entering into the restaurant first, sitting at a table near Jimin’s to monitor the situation, and you entering five minutes later, causing the biggest break up ever. It’ll be fun, like drama club.

You look at yourself in the mirror once again, and you think you look like those prostitutes in those trashy american tv shows before you enter the building with the classy exterior. With crystal chandeliers hung and tablecloths made of white linen, you feel terribly out of place, but for what if not for money.

You immediately spot Jay, sitting there with his long legs spread out. And a few tables to your right sits Jimin and her boyfriend, who continuously toys with his phone under the tablecloth while she tries to keep the conversation going.

It’s showtime.

You storm up to their table, positive pregnancy test in one hand as you yell out, “How could you! How could you cheat on me!” Hands reaching out to grab the boy by his collar, tears welling up in your eyes as he fumbled to stand straight under your tiger grip.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, eyes wide as saucers as his hands move up to surrender. “Jimin, babe, I swear I don’t know this crazy woman.”

“Crazy? You said I was your everything, that we were bound by fate! I believed you and now I’m pregnant,” you scream, throwing the test into his face as his hands scramble to catch it.

“Just get it aborted for god’s sake, it’s not that fucking hard.” And you gasp, shocked by the sheer stupidness of the boy. You don’t really let your emotions get to you, but the boy in front of you with a grip that could bruise your wrist and a mentality of a crude alpha male disgusts you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a girlfriend who was willing to listen to you and give you a second chance before, but you ruined it by being an arsehole.” You pinch his forearm and he yelps, “you’re pathetic, and you don’t deserve anyone in your life.”

You watch as Jimin packs her things and leaves, before you meet Jay in his car. And without a word, he puts the makeup remover you brought into a cotton pad, dabbing your face with it as his fingers softly brush over the bruise forming on your wrist.

“You’re insane,” he says, “so fucking insane.”

You grin, “you don’t mind,” you make up his mind for him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t,” he says as he digs his pocket to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to you. 

And you open it, reading the scrawny handwriting in black ink.

Matchmaking

Name : Park Jay / Park Jongseong

Match : This girl I call angel, I’m sure you know who I’m talking about

Extra : I think we’re a match made in heaven, so please, help me win her over

vi. an angel and her love

You push your clingy boyfriend Jay away from your body, and to no avail fail for the third time. “Jay, you’re going to be late,” you tell the boy whose arms wrap protectively around your waist, “that’s not very vice captain of you.”

“And it’s not very girlfriend of you to chase your boyfriend away,” he mutters into the crook of your neck, as he proceeds to tighten his grip around your waist.

You give up, which you should have done minutes ago, because you know your boyfriend isn’t one to listen to anyone — even you. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not when you’re not an easy person either.

“Go, or I’ll ask Yunjin to put that photo of you with a pink eye on the jumbotron,” you tease, and it works because Jay immediately lets go of your waist, eyes turning into slits.

“Hate you,” he says, rolling his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss.

It’s short and sweet. And a line invisible to the naked eye seemed to be drawn between the both of you, it’s scarlet and relatively thick in magnitude, as the feeling of being in heaven — a feeling you’re accustomed to whenever you’re with Jay enlightens your skin again.

“Kiss me again,” you complain.

“You always order me around,” he laughs.

“Kiss me.”

“Are you sure?” he mutters, lips curving into his signature smirk.

You grab the back of his head, yanking him down once more. And the silence around the both of you explodes and a world of colours appear before your closed eyes. Every thought in your brain erased and replaced by the thought of him, just him. His lips pressing against yours, his hands pulling you closer, running up and down your back, into your hair. The taste of his mouth and the heat of his breath cloud your mind.

And when you finally convince yourself to pull away, your brain fails to string any piece of thought together.

“I love you more,” you tell him, as you smile. 

And Jay looks, and he adores. He thinks (knows) he can watch you until the sun rises and the sun sets again, that he can watch you for days on end and never grow tired of you.

“Love you the most, angel.”

© SJYUNS

[clingonlikeclingwrap]

Scrambled some MXTX settings lmao

[pricetagged]

butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

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

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 2: Love confession (Jonathon Ohnn)

technical long awaited part 2 for this post ! we love revisiting old stuff in this house! prompt list here side note i just realized people spell his name as both jonathon and jonathan- is there an official spelling or do we all just use it interchangeably? def making it a hc that he gets annoyed when people spell his name wrong. esp after he becomes the spot... loss of identity stuff plot: following the events of the post linked above, you both get in the car to continue your trip. Surely, Jonathon's feelings won't rip themselves out of his throat on the way? notes: reader is gn, unestablished relationship, jonathathon crushing on reader, not proof read we die like uncle aaron, admin only knows lore based off the spiderverse stuff they have no prior knowledge on any other iteration of ohnn, pre collider, ambiguous ending, possible part 3 if the admin ever feels inclined to continue the story word count: 1.5k cws: none

Jonathon struggled to stay awake the morning after everything. After he had pulled himself out of bed between... god his mind was clinging together to keep details clear... it was somewhere between two in the morning and four, though he could be completely wrong. He decided to wait out the rest of night outside your hotel room. He did not get a single wink of sleep, his thoughts consuming him. Naturally, you didn't allow him to drive the car. There was still many hours left on the trip, and that wasn't even factoring in the drive back. You curse Alchemex for not sending someone else, or working out a different arrangement than having someone pick up the parts needed for some... machine...

"We'll stop in a few hours for breakfast, maybe around nine... does that sound alright? Could you try to catch some sleep so we can switch off eventually?" You glanced at Jonathon as the car rolled to a stop at the light. His eyes lazily pulled themselves to look at you, his glasses were secured in their case and tucked away in the door.

He scrunches his eyes closed, attempting to pull himself together. "Yeah, yeah... that works," He leaned back into his seat as the car began to move again.

It was gloomy outside, dark clouds hung in the sky as if it were about to rain. At least it was better than having the morning light going straight into his eyes. He leaned away from you and tried to get comfortable. It was horribly quiet, and suddenly he became all too aware of his breathing. He wasn't being too loud, or breathing too heavily? He shot a glance to you, and even though your eyes were still glued on the road ahead his sleep deprived mind would not stop the buzzing thought that you were judging him silently. He took a deep breath, and held it for as long as he could without turning red. He slowly exhaled as soft as he could. And he continued the process.

He did not get any sleep, too preoccupied on trying to make the air less awkward than it was. But you never seemed to notice it, or him. It remained this way for hours, until you both eventually pulled into a parking lot of some fast food place. Jonathon nearly jumped out of his skin when you gently shook his arm. His throat clenched painfully before he regained himself. "Sorry! I didn't realize you were asleep!" You apologized. You hadn't noticed after all. Gaze darting, he shook his head. "No, no no it's... fine..."

"Do you want to go inside, or do you just want to pass through the drive thru? I meant to ask you before pulling in, but some douchebag..." You trailed off. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up from the swerve."

Bringing the palms of his hands to his eyes he rubbed them, then blinked his vision clear. The clock said nine. You'd been on the road for three hours. A dull ache in his legs made themselves known suddenly as he pulled his eyes open wider. "We can go inside, give us a chance to walk and go to the bathroom,"

You nod in agreement.

Breakfast was uneventful, you both ate mostly in silence save for you checking in on him. Did you need to make a stop so he can get some proper rest? He insisted that he was fine, but you could tell he was lying through his teeth.

Soon you were back on the road, with you taking it upon yourself to simply keep driving for the remainder of this half of the trip. You did not feel confident with the idea of your coworker driving in his current state.

Morning stretched to noon, and then to late afternoon. The sky had since cleared for the most part, the sunset shining its light on your side of the car. You couldn't blame Ohnn for staring, with the way he could see each individual strand of hair lit up by the orange light. Or how your skin seemed to glow, you looked... alive. That was a normal thing to say about someone, surely!

It was this, mixed with the exhaustion that Jonathon let a single word slip through his chewed lips.

"Wow.."

That was all he said, his face burning brighter against the light that made it past you and onto his own face. He doubted he looked as beautiful as you in the light. His only redeeming quality right now, were his brown eyes. Brown eyes always seemed to look gorgeous in the light.

"Did you say something?" You shot a side glance to him, his teeth clenching as he realized his mistake.

But...

Was it a mistake?

He thought over his thoughts from the night before in bed. Everything he wanted to say to you. His eyes fixated on you, like a child staring at a bug they've found under a rock. He pulled his bottom lip in with his teeth, and ran them along the flesh. He weighed his options. He could be bold and say everything now... or he could keep quiet... If things ended bad, he could perhaps let himself wallow in shame in the passenger seat or ask someone to help him get home if you didn't allow him to ride back with you.

""Are you okay? " You asked when you didn't get a response. All day you had been worried about the man, his behavior was so off and it you were beginning to believe you may have done something wrong. Maybe you should have let him sleep on the floor like he had insisted, did you make him feel pressured to share the bed with you?

"No, actually I'm not." He said after a few seconds. A horrible opener, really. He didn't have time to fight his body cringing, he had already committed to this. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you," He added. That didn't make it sound any better. Before he could back out you were already pulling the car into the parking lot of a gas station, stopping the car. He had your full attention now.

"Is this about the bed thing? Or is it something else?"

He sucked air between his teeth, scraping his mind for some way to back out of this. This wasn't the best time to confess your feelings, was it? Let alone the right place. Jonathon had always thought that he would try to orchestrate something to "naturally" have you two fall together, opening a window to ask you out.. this was.. not at all what he had planned. He felt far too vulnerable, the inside of the car suddenly felt too small.

He was going to dismiss everything off as a joke, but when his eyes caught yours his jaw started working against him. In perhaps the most humiliating way.

"I'm in love with you, (Reader)"

The air hung thick.

Such a horrible way to say it.

He will never have the chance to confess to you in the way he wanted to, never would he want it to go out like this. He cursed himself for this failure.

What a waste.

He tore his eyes away from you as his face began to burn, soon followed by his ears and the back of his neck turning a bright shade of pink. For a horrifying moment he wondered if you would tell the rest of your coworkers about this. He tried to dismiss it once more, trying to follow it by a "Just kidding!" but his jaws betrayed him once more.

It was quiet, and he became aware of his breathing again. He began to focus on it, working to make sure it wasn't too loud in the space you shared.

He chanced a glance at you through the corner of his eye, only to see that similarly your face was burning as well. "You don't.. have to say anything-"

"No, I'm glad you told me..." You pulled your gaze forward and worked your brows together. More quiet followed before you breathed deeply and exhaled. You looked at the time, prompting him to look as well. He had been so deep in his thoughts and feelings the entire day that he had forgotten why you were driving. His horror deepens as he realizes that he had practically confessed to you while you were working... he wanted to bury himself into the ground.

"Can we talk about this later, when we get this.." You motion your hand around, "over with? When we get back home, I mean,"

It felt like a gut punch, but he understood. You both had a job to do, pick something up and return.

He nodded, trying to swallow the hurt look that tried to come out.

You nodded, and pulled the car out of the parking lot and returned driving. You both made it to your location, and got what you needed. There was no way the two of you were going to drive tonight, however, given the exhaustion settling in both of you.

This time Jonathon made sure the hotel room had two beds.

[zapreportsblog]

Mini Spot

➥ summary: Jonathan never thought he’d have kids especially with how much more different he looks now after the accident

➥ a/n: this fic is brought to you by @cyborgnoodle7297 saying “It would have been cute if the baby had vitiligo 😭💗” from this fic Embracing Love's Unfathomable Depths

➥ one shot

Jonathan Ohnn, known to the world as the notorious supervillain known as the Spot, sat alone in the dimly lit room, his mind consumed by a mixture of guilt and self-doubt. He had embraced his dark alter ego, believing that his transformation into a villain would drive a wedge between him and his wife, (Y/N). He had convinced himself that she could never be attracted to him, that their passion would wane and disappear.

But fate had other plans.

(Y/N) entered the room, her steps hesitant as she approached Jonathan. She stood before him, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire. With a gentle touch, she placed her hand on his cheek, her voice soft yet firm.

"Jonathan, I know you've been through a lot. The darkness that surrounds you doesn't change how I feel about you. I still love you, and I am still attracted to you, no matter what form you take."

Jonathan's eyes widened in surprise, his heart both lifted and burdened by her words. He had never anticipated such unwavering devotion from (Y/N). A flicker of hope sparked within him, intertwining with the tendrils of guilt that still clung to his conscience.

"(Y/N), I don't deserve your love. Not in this state, not as the Spot," Jonathan murmured, his voice filled with a mix of longing and regret.

(Y/N) leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his. "Jonathan, we all have darkness within us. What matters is how we choose to navigate it. I choose you, regardless of the battles you face. Let me show you that our love can conquer all."

In that moment, Jonathan's resistance crumbled, replaced by an overwhelming desire for connection, for the intimacy he thought was lost. His hands found their way to (Y/N)'s waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressed together with an electric fervor.

Passion ignited between them, an inferno of longing and rekindled desire. In that stolen moment, they rediscovered each other, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and vulnerability. The weight of the world fell away as they surrendered to the intensity of their connection.

Days turned into weeks. (Y/N) discovered that she was pregnant, a secret she held close to her heart, knowing that the revelation would both surprise and elate Jonathan. She awaited the right moment to share the news, wanting to ensure that their newfound happiness remained undisturbed.

One evening, as they sat together, Jonathan turned to (Y/N), his eyes filled with a mix of nervousness and adoration. "I feel like we've been given a second chance, (Y/N). Our love is stronger than ever, and I can't imagine my life without you. You mean everything to me."

(Y/N) smiled, her hand reaching out to clasp Jonathan's. "Jonathan, there's something I need to tell you. Something that will change our lives once again."

Jonathan's eyes widened, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through his veins. "What is it, (Y/N)? What could be more life-changing than what we've already experienced?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her voice quivering with emotion, “Honey, I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.

Jonathan’s jaw dropped, , his mind struggling to process the overwhelming joy that flooded his senses. He laughed and cried simultaneously, his heart bursting with a mix of disbelief and euphoria. "I'm pregnant! No wait, you're pregnant! Oh my god, we're pregnant!"

He pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace, his body trembling with a mixture of happiness and nervousness. They clung to each other, their laughter and tears merging into a beautiful symphony of emotions.

In that moment, Jonathan realized that his past mistakes and choices didn't define him. The love he shared with (Y/N) had the power to heal, to overcome any obstacle. Together, they would embark on this new chapter of their lives, with their unborn child serving as a beacon of hope and a reminder of the power of their love.

And as they reveled in the joyous chaos of the moment, Jonathan couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man in the world, grateful for the chance to embrace his role as a husband, a father, and a hero in his own right.

•••

Jonathan Ohnn, dressed in a crisp suit and clutching his resume, walked purposefully down the bustling city street. He had made the decision to leave his life as the Spot behind, to find a way to support his growing family. A job interview awaited him, a glimmer of hope in an uncertain world.

As he navigated the crowd, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He was determined to turn his life around, to leave the shadow of his past behind. However, fate had other plans for him on that fateful day.

Suddenly, a figure swung down from the rooftops, landing with an agile grace right in front of Jonathan. It was Spider-Man, Miles Morales, the friendly neighborhood hero of New York City.

"Hey, Spot! You can't run away from your past forever," Miles called out, his voice laced with determination.

Jonathan blinked in surprise, his heart sinking at the interruption. "That's going to have to wait, kid. I'm on my way to a job interview. I'm trying to make a fresh start here."

Miles squinted at Jonathan, studying him closely. "Wait a minute... You're in a suit. The Spot doesn't wear a suit. What's going on here?"

Jonathan sighed, realizing that his secret identity was at risk of being exposed. With a resigned expression, he activated the mechanism in his suit, causing the familiar black and white spots to appear all over his body. The transformation completed, and he stood before Miles as the Spot once again.

"I've made some changes, Miles. I'm trying to leave my old life behind and find a better path," Jonathan explained, his voice tinged with sincerity. "But right now, I need to focus on providing for my family. Can you understand that?"

Miles' eyes widened, a mix of surprise and empathy crossing his face. He had always seen villains as adversaries, but in that moment, he caught a glimpse of the complexity that lay beneath the surface.

"I get it, Spot," Miles said, his voice softer now. "We all have responsibilities, and sometimes we have to make difficult choices. Just remember, I'll be watching you. Make sure you stay on the right path."

Jonathan nodded, his heart filled with gratitude for Miles' understanding. "Thank you, Spider-Man. I appreciate your vigilance. I'm determined to be a better person, not only for my family but for myself."

With that, Jonathan resumed his journey, leaving behind the encounter with Spider-Man. He felt a renewed sense of determination to make a positive change in his life, to prove that he could rise above his past mistakes.

As he arrived at the job interview, Jonathan took a deep breath, straightening his tie and adjusting his posture. He walked into the building with confidence, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to carve out a new future for himself and his family.

And as he sat down for the interview, his mind focused on his goals, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope burning within him. The past may have shaped him, but it did not define him. Jonathan Ohnn, once the Spot, was ready to embrace a new identity, a new purpose, and a brighter future.

•••

Jonathan Ohnn, the former supervillain known as the Spot, stood at the front of the classroom, a feeling of both excitement and nervousness coursing through his veins. He had embarked on a new chapter in his life as a fourth-grade science teacher, determined to make a positive impact on the young minds before him.

Despite his unique appearance, the children in his class were surprisingly accepting. They looked at him with wide eyes and curious expressions, unabashed by his unconventional looks. Jonathan couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope as he began to teach, sharing his knowledge and passion for science.

As the day progressed, the children's enthusiasm grew, and they bombarded Jonathan with questions during a break. One young girl raised her hand, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"Mr. Ohnn, do you have superpowers like Spider-Man?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Jonathan chuckled, his heart warmed by their innocent curiosity. "Well, sorta," he replied, a playful grin forming on his face. "I can make portals, which allows me to travel from one place to another quickly. But they aren't as cool as Spider-Man's abilities."

The children gasped in awe, their imaginations running wild with the possibilities of his power. They started buzzing with excitement, eager to hear more about his unique ability.

Throughout the day, Jonathan found himself inundated with drawings from his students. The pages were filled with colorful depictions of him, the Spot, creating portals and performing heroic acts. Some of the drawings showed him rescuing people, while others showcased him using his powers in imaginative and fantastical ways.

Toward the end of the day, as Jonathan collected the drawings, he came across one that struck a deep chord within him. It was a meticulously crafted illustration of him surrounded by portals, with the words "The Portal Hero: The Spot" written underneath. Attached to the drawing was a small note that read, "Thank you for being our superhero."

Jonathan's eyes welled up with tears as he held the drawing close to his heart. Emotions swirled within him—a mixture of pride, joy, and gratitude. In that moment, he realized the impact he was having on these young lives, and the profound transformation that had taken place within him.

He wiped away his tears, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, my young superheroes," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Together, we can explore the wonders of science and unleash the power of our imaginations."

The children beamed with pride, their belief in him unwavering. They had found a hero in Jonathan, not for his past deeds, but for his commitment to change and his ability to inspire. In that classroom, Jonathan Ohnn had found a new purpose—one that extended beyond himself and into the lives of these young minds.

As the school day came to an end, Jonathan looked around the room, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over him. He had been given a second chance, not only to teach, but to shape the future in a positive way. And he vowed to do everything in his power to be the best teacher he could be, to guide his students towards a brighter tomorrow.

With renewed determination, Jonathan prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that transforming himself from the Spot into Mr. Ohnn was not an easy journey, but it was one he was willing to take. Together with his students, he would embrace the power of knowledge, empathy, and the belief in second chances.

Jonathan Ohnn, the former Spot, had become a hero of a different kind—a hero of the classroom, a beacon of inspiration, and a symbol of the transformative power of love and redemption. And as he locked the classroom door, he looked forward to the days ahead, eager to continue this remarkable journey of growth, discovery, and making a difference, one student at a time.

•••

The sterile hospital room buzzed with anticipation and excitement as (Y/N) lay on the delivery bed, her face flushed with a mixture of pain and anticipation. Jonathan stood by her side, his hand clasping hers tightly, offering both comfort and support. They had arrived at this moment, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their child, knowing that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

The doctor, a seasoned professional with an air of calm, guided (Y/N) through the final stages of labor. "Okay, (Y/N), it's time to push," she said, her voice steady and reassuring.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength within her. But just as she prepared to push, an unexpected twist occurred. The baby, filled with the powers inherited from their father, Jonathan, teleported out of (Y/N)'s stomach, leaving everyone in the room momentarily stunned.

Gasps filled the air as the doctors and nurses stood frozen in disbelief, their eyes fixed on the baby who now rested on the bed, surrounded by a shimmering portal residue. Jonathan's jaw dropped, his heart racing with a mix of awe and bewilderment. (Y/N), her voice filled with equal parts shock and amazement, broke the silence.

"Oh god, they've got powers," she exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

As the initial shock subsided, the medical team quickly regained their composure, gathering around the baby to assess their well-being. The doctor's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and curiosity, observing the baby's vitiligo—a skin condition that caused patches of depigmentation, resembling small white spots scattered across their body.

Jonathan's expression transformed into a radiant smile as he gazed down at the baby. "And little spots too," he said, his voice filled with awe and adoration.

(Y/N) held the baby gently in her arms, a mixture of wonder and overwhelming love flooding her heart. "Just like their amazing daddy," she added, her voice filled with pride.

The medical team, though initially taken aback, quickly adjusted to the extraordinary circumstances. They ensured that the baby was healthy, monitoring their vital signs and performing necessary tests. As the commotion settled, the room became filled with a sense of wonder, a recognition of the miracle that had unfolded before them.

Jonathan leaned down to place a tender kiss on (Y/N)'s forehead, his eyes filled with an indescribable depth of emotion. "We've been blessed with something truly extraordinary, (Y/N). Our child carries the legacy of their powers and the uniqueness of their appearance. They will be a beacon of strength and individuality."

(Y/N) nodded, her heart bursting with a mixture of joy and gratitude. "Yes, Jonathan, our child is a testament to the love we share and the extraordinary journey we've been on. They are a reflection of the strength and resilience we possess."

As they marveled at their child, their hearts swelled with the knowledge that their family was something truly special. They knew that challenges lay ahead, but with their love, support, and unwavering belief in each other, they were confident that they could face anything that came their way.

In that hospital room, surrounded by the gentle hum of medical equipment and the whispered promises of a beautiful future, Jonathan and (Y/N) embraced their child's powers and appearance as a symbol of their unique family bond. And with the love that flowed between them, they knew that this child, with their teleportation abilities and vitiligo, would grow up to be a remarkable individual, leaving their own extraordinary mark on the world.

As the family basked in the warmth of that precious moment, they knew that their journey together had only just begun. With the support of their loved ones and the strength they found in each other, they were ready to face the adventures and challenges that lay ahead, embracing the extraordinary in their ordinary lives.

[inkedberries]

expanding on the thought of kudou getting the call sign 'hero' and afo getting irked by it for some reason

[veatomis]

Great date ideas: take your boyfriend (who doesn't know how to swim) to the hot springs your family owns and gaze lovingly into his eyes <3

(Featuring a very special guest who also loves said boyfriend a very normal amount under the cut)

[omagpies]

i need a break, maybe i’ll take five

shake it up and medicate, maybe i’ll take five

[moghedien]

I love that Shadowheart/Durge are just the fucked up verison of Isobel and Aylin and it’s like extra obvious if both Shadowheart and Durge are trying to redeem themselves

I’m just imagining Shadowheart with her hair freshly dyed to look like Isobel’s like “I am also dating the child of a god 😌” and Durge just over there like

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Good reveal au, where after learning phantom's identity and realizing the atrocities that the GIW have committed (or alternatively, ethical science au, where they find out the GIW plagarized them), the fenton parents decided to create the 'ultimate ghost-ending weapon' and sell it to the agents.

They go absolutely overboard, describing to the agents in meticulous detail how it evaporates any ghost it hits near-instantly and describing it quite ruthlessly in the blueprints, and soon the GIW have raplaced all their main weapons with the new gun.

Except it doesn't actually kill ghosts. It's the Fenton Bazooka. You know, the one that creates a portable portal to suck the ghost back into the ghost zone? What they actually did was retool it slightly to make it look more grusome than it actually is. They even added a beacon in Phantom's Keep, which all Fenton Bazookas will target when they open a portal, so the ghosts are always delivered to the keep.

From there, Phantom stationed an emergency medical team at the keep to treat the many injured and ragged ghosts that the GIW 'destroyed,' and to explain what just happened.

What they didn't anticipate was that now that the GIW have a mass-produced weapon that they believed would effectively eradicate ghosts, they would go on the offensive. They have a number of cities they've been monitoring but didn't want to get involved in without better tools.

One of those cities is Gotham.

And the Bats are ectocontaminated enough to register as ghosts.

Batman witnessed several of his children get evaporated by green energy weapons within mere moments of each other. He's absolutely gutted. Devastated. They didn’t even stand a chance.

He'll get his revenge, and it's frighteningly easy to track the weapon to private subcontractors. The Doctors Fenton, in Illinois. Their research calls for the genocide of all ghost kind, and apparently, that war started by killing his own children.

His children will not die in vain.

He gets to Amity Park and finds the Engineer's Nightmare of a building that is Fentonworks, but that night, before he can hack through the security and break in, one of the windows opens.

It's one of his kids that he had watched evaporate before his very eyes. They give him a silent signal of one of their identifying security codes and gesture for him to come inside.

Is it a trap? A prank in poor taste? Utterly genuine?

He goes through the window.

All of his dead kids are there, wearing borrowed pajamas and only their dominoes to conceal their identities. Daniel Fenton (son of the Fentons, this is his bedroom, has voiced a few arguments against his parent's views, but still an unknown) is among the crowd of teens and young adults, twirling on an office chair and obnoxiously sipping a capri sun.

"First thing you need to know, Bats," Daniel says after finishing his drink, "is that my parents are absolutely NOT genocidal ectophobic scumbags, and that is the reason why your kids are still alive."