#then after that i’d like to watch something lighthearted. :(

[energon-depo]

Why I think Arcee and Smokescreen are peak duo material

(Note: This is all in a platonic sense!!! I see them as cool aunt and nephew!! like elita and bee in tfo!!)

this will be a half analysis on one episode in particular, with some other things that happen after. and why I think these two are swell together.

Okay now yes, Arcee Was a “hater”(emphasis on the quotes)of smokescreen at first and I’d like to analysis that, in the episode hard knocks(s2 E22) we got to remember smokescreen was brash ESPECIALLY in that episode.

“I’m going to be a great warrior someday, like Optimus” -smokescreen

“well, train hard, and gain some wisdom along the way and I’m sure It’ll happen” -bulkhead

“Oh, It will. It’s my destiny” -Smokescreen

Very, VERY confident, boarding on egotistical, actually. whiles yes Smokescreen is just a kiddo, very young and doesn’t grasp at the current WAR going. We gotta admit, he’s got it over his head(this is coming from the girl who’s favorite character IS smokescreen So there’s no way I hate him LOL)

as a refresher, bee and arcee go to find an Omega-key. To Smokescreen’s disgruntlement, as he REALLY wanted to do the mission(saying “last one to the ground-bridge must scrub the energon tanks for a week!”)

Arcee throws a jab at Smokescreen, saying “keep your engines idle, kid. Come bee, destiny awaits” which I personally think, It’s lighthearted :) Like ain’t no way arcee HATES his guts, she’s just messing!…But a lil too aggressive, Of course.

but after that interaction, action show does it’s thing with knockout BRUTALITY defending The key from the two autobots(with the help of Soundwave’s weapons he borrowed)the end result is victory on the Deception’s side.

after recouping, The team discuss what happened. and Smokescreen is a lil too zealous with his commentary on things.

“Man, it must’ve been crazy with knockout going all sonic. Oh I wish I’d been there! I would’ve-“

“Would’ve what? Recovered the key like you did the first one?”- Arcee

“maybe? who knows! I just want us to be firing on all cylinders! you know, now that the star saber’s gone! and I have a pretty good track record”- smokescreen, you can see he’s been VERY ignorant. Not to his blame, but you got to keep in mind, this kid Just showed up. being this “confident” about his abilities, especially after a CRUCIAL lost is something that will peeve anyone.

Arcee gives him this look, before promptly taking her battered frame and storming off.

again, no one here at fault. after that smokescreen feels remorse about if his words offended arcee, he clearly doesn’t mean to insult her. And arcee isn’t wrong or cruel for being upset!

(note: I freaking love these characters, wowie zowie such good emotions from looks and words!)

later on, Optimus finds another location for different omega-key. this time Bulkhead and smokescreen are in-charge in finding it.

smokescreen says “I’m gonna bring back that key” and warms himself up before entering the ground-bridge, upon noticing Arcee’s graze he slouches remembering the last interaction they had and leaves.

Arcee gets the attention of bulkhead to have a few words. she tells him “make sure you keep an eye on destiny’s child, okay?” a quant reminder, clearly from a place of concern. if she hated him, she would’ve been praying he’d get hurt.

But no, she’s concerned. she sees a kid in war far too eager for his own good.

“compared to watching miko? piece of cake” -bulkhead, funny quip and also a cute jab.

again, action show gotta action. this time dreadwing(remember him?) ambushes the two, smokescreen runs to get the key, while bulkhead distracts.

In the end, starscream actually shows up and steals the key from under smokescreen’s non-existent nose.

after rejoining the team, Smokescreen beats himself up on losing the key(to which is not at fault)

“some great warrior I’m turning out to be” -smokescreen

and now entering, arcee's very important statement.

“you still don’t get it do you?" she starts "a couple of victories aren’t going to make you a legend" talking about his first victory he's been bragging about "and not every mission results in success." he's current “fail” "Not for me, not for bee, not even for Optimus” targeting his idols, bee he's older brother(check project predacon s3 e5) and he's hero(check literally every-time smokey talks about him)

“we’ve gained relics, and we’ve lost some. we’ve also lost friends, we’ve even lost a world. but this one time we get a do-over." hammering in the stakes "we have a chance to bring back cybertron, and everyone in this room needs to be in-sync. this isn’t about you or your destiny” like it or not he NEEDED to hear this, he needs to focus. and if no one is going to step up and say it then arcee will.

Optimus interjects by saying “Arcee, you made your point” concerned at the rising tension.

to which Arcee Objects “Optimus, he needs to hear this” to assert her (aggressive)guidance to the young bot.

“you might actually become a great warrior one day, and I sincerely hope you do." A genuine wish"But greatness beings and ends wit putting the team first, not your personal scorecard” doubling down.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you guys” smokescreen attempts to explain, to which arcee stops him “then stop trying to be a hero, and start being an autobot” THAT LINE was the finisher, and I really can’t find fault in that whole statement she said. yes she did sound aggressive, but how would he know?

would you rather someone like optimus? to tell him to his face he isn’t focused?

someone needed to tell him, and that someone Cared for him. if arcee hated him she would’ve have said any of that!

she would chewed him out with saying something like “you only care about yourself! about your stupid destiny! about nothing but your personal scorecard!” but no she doesn’t word it like that.

she sees him and the whole team as family(check THE FIRST episode)

she wants to guide him.

but is frustrated that he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

she sees him like bumblebee, expect more people can understand him.(or jack, they have similar quirks)

she sees herself in him, and she doesn’t want him to fall into the traps she fell into(outcasting himself from the team, doing reckless missions alone, and thinking he can handle it)

she could’ve done it better, but stuff reached a boiling point that can’t be ignored.

after that, seeing everyone’s optics on him. smokescreen withdraws saying “You know what, maybe I’m just not good enough” and dashes out of the base.

(ratchet says “when Optimus says to stop, you should listen” which like gee ratchet thanks for the heads up gramps go back to playing candy crush)

Optimus stops bulkhead on getting him, allowing the young bot to get sometime to reflect.

sometime passed, and optimus finished finding the location on the key. turns out it was smokescreen was the location, and soundwave with lazerbeak get to him first.

entertaining episode inside job(s2 e23, my favorite episode actually!)

action show does it’s thing AGAIN. smokescreen managed to escape but is now in free-fall from leaving the ship.

He gets in-contact with ratchet to open a ground-bridge to save himself, to which Megatron thwarts his trajectory, failing the rescue.

“you missed!?” -Arcee

“open another one! fast!” -bulkhead

both of these two are barking orders at a stressed ratchet, because they Care that much(to the point of ignoring logic and letting their emotions control LOL)

after Smokescreen clever use of the phase-shifter, saving himself and returning the keys. he indulges in his victory.

“destiny! Alpha-trion Knew I’d keep it safe!” -smokescreen

(the GOOFIEST face to ever be seen)

“nice work, kid” -arcee

look me in the eyes/optics and tell me, TELL ME she hates him!!!! that’s a look of pride here!

later later on they have very brief interactions, but I can’t help but imagine them being pals!(especially since they’re both jack’s designated vehicles)

I can’t help but imagining these two having fun interactions with their love of quips, messing with jack, bee and bulkhead with lighthearted jabs. or making jokes on the expense of ratchet (“I bet He saw primus transform with his own two optics!”) but then they’ll look behind themselves and see ratchet staring at them and go “😰”

I’d like to think after the events of prime, these two (and wheeljack) they go on lil adventures together with their absence in RID15!

My headcanon is they took care of Airachnid on the moon of Cybertron(remember that? I Do!) and build something there.

or if he became a prime in season 3 she would’ve supported him in his grief, like what she did with miko(pushing down her own(since optimus went Bye bye) to help him express his emotions and focus on what’s important).

If they weren’t in a war, Smokescreen(and bee in extension)would’ve been Optimus’s kid and would be worrying about math exams with ratchet, instead of primus’s test he cursed him with💔

in conclusion, Arcee deeply cares for smokey and wants the best for him like a lil nephew. and Smokescreen sees her as a cool aunt!

[meowdei]

in every life, it’s you — ft. sylus

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; reader lays on him/sits on his lap ; very cringe and corny fluff and banter but i had to heal myself from the pure trauma that was his myth that i watched last night ; not proof read

“Sylus,” you whisper, “are you sleeping?”

Sylus does not ever sleep when he should—it’s a miracle that he even sleeps at all. Your question is a pointless one in hindsight, but you ask more for the purpose of getting his attention than anything. You realize a little too late, however, that stupid questions will always get you stupid answers with him. It’s an opportunity he never misses.

He gives you a dramatic, loud snore that instantly makes you roll your eyes, lips twitching into a small grin at his antics.

“Don’t be annoying,” you huff playfully.

“You should be prepared for nonsense if you ask me nonsense,” he says smoothly, voice a low, deep rumble through his chest beneath your cheek.

Sylus doesn’t sleep at night. More often than not, he sleeps after the sun rises and not a moment sooner—but he lays with you every night, anyway. Just because it helps you sleep. Just because you need him there and he likes being needed. (Sometimes, he lays with you more for himself. More for the feeling of your body curled against his while you’re most vulnerable, while your guard is down completely and you trust him. He likes your trust—craves it.)

“Nevermind. Goodnight,” you pout, turning your body to face your back to him. It’s useless—as is any form of petulance with him. Sylus is infuriatingly capable of always keeping an upper hand. You body gets flipped effortlessly with a thick, strong wave of red before you’re back to laying against his chest.

“Now, now,” he teases, “no need to hiss like a stray kitten. Your fangs aren’t sharp enough for that yet.”

You melt instantly despite his (lighthearted) mockery. It’s that type of effect he has on you. That feeling you get from the soft, easy way he smiles and that delicate, fragile look in his eyes. You don’t even think Sylus realizes it. How gentle he is by nature. How vulnerable he always looks. How easy he is to love and be loved by. Sometimes, you don’t think he realizes how easily love fits itself between the crinkles of his eyes and seeps into the smile lines by his lips.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, making his smug, teasing grin falter into something a little more vulnerable.

“I was thinking…”

“That’s never a good sign,” he sighs in mock wariness, catching your wrist when you move to slap his chest and giving you a wide, devastatingly handsome grin.

“Shush,” you roll your eyes, fighting back your own grin before continuing, “I was thinking and I need to know: do you think we’re together in every life? We have to be, right?”

He’s quiet for a second, doesn’t answer right away as though he’s really pondering the answer. (Half of you expected him to scoff at the question and call it silly. The other half expected him to laugh in amusement. Humoring your deep, late night question was not on your list of possibilities for the night.)

“You’re working that poor brain of yours overtime with such thoughts,” he murmurs, raising a brow as he pokes your forehead. You scrunch your brows, and he grins friendly. “But I suppose it’s possible. Unless you’re smarter in the next life and stay away from me.”

You pout deeper, rolling to lay your body over his before your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing them together while you force his eyes to stare into yours. (He lets you get away with it. He lets you get away with a lot.)

“I don’t want to stay away in the next life,” you say in concern, like you’re really at threat of living through the nightmare of not having him by your side. He fights back a small, amused snort for the sake of your feelings. “I’d love you in every life.”

“Is that so?” He drawls.

You nod firmly, squeezing his cheeks together a bit more before a small giggle escapes your lips at the view. You press a peck to his mouth, and he cups a hand to the back of your head, keeping you right there where he can kiss you properly.

“Yes,” you breathe as you pull away, voice just a touch breathless. “I’ll be miserable if I don’t.”

“You’re oddly sentimental tonight,” he murmurs, running a thumb along your bottom lip as he inspects your face closely, admiring the delicate curves of your features and the light reflecting in your eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. At least not for now,” you wink, “I can’t make any promises for the future.”

He laughs at that—it’s a low, rich, smooth sound that sends something shooting straight to your heart and makes it race. Makes the blood pump faster in your veins and your head spin at the feeling. Makes you think the sound of his laughter is the only thing you want to remember even when your bones bury into soil and your body returns to the earth where it came from. Just the echo of his voice, filled with joy and nothing else.

“Any particular reason you’re being so sweet?” He tilts your chin up. You turn your head, leaning to press a soft kiss to his palm as it cups your cheek.

“What? I can’t just love you?”

“Well, I’m not saying that. How can I complain about something like that?”

You sit up, suddenly. He lets you, taking the weight of you as you straddle his hips and sit up and cup his cheeks, gently grazing your thumb and studying his features like you need to commit him to memory. Like you might forget him in the next life and you can’t bear to lose the vision of him in the back of your mind.

You love him. It’s the simplest thing you’ve ever done. It comes as easily as breathing through your lungs and pumping blood through your veins.

“I’ll love you in every life,” you say resolutely, voice barely a whisper. “Promise.”

Something flickers in his gaze. Something hopeful with maybe just an echo pain before it’s gone. Before you can think too long about it, he pulls you closer, kissing you hard and firm and desperate like he needs to feel you now to know you’re real.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, sweetheart,” he whispers back, “so I hope you make good on it.”

Things that destroyed me and made me want to quit life as whole: sylus dragon myth.

[julietsf1]

The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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

Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday  played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest. 

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild. 

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did. 

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ‘pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of. 

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug. 

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

[flwrkid14]

The Marriage Pact (But Make It Sabotage)

ahh tysm for 500 followers!!! i never thought so many people would actually like all my silly ideas! <3

Tim and Danny, somewhere in their early twenties, jokingly make a marriage pact: if they’re both single by the time they’re in their late twenties, they’ll just marry each other. It’s lighthearted, it’s casual—just two best friends making promises for a future they’re totally not worried about.

Except… it gets a little weird.

Danny gets set up on a blind date one Saturday. Tim, the supportive best friend he is, casually mentions there’s a case he could really use Danny’s help on. Nothing serious, of course—just something that totally can’t wait until Sunday. Danny, being the responsible friend he is, cancels the date.

Tim, meanwhile, gets roped into a coffee meetup with one of Steph’s friends. It’s not really a date, but it could turn into one. Or at least, it could’ve, if Danny hadn’t texted Tim about that new bakery he’s been dying to try. “We should go! Like, now. Before all the good pastries are gone.” Tim, naturally, reschedules the coffee meetup. After all, Danny takes priority, right?

It becomes a pattern.

Danny’s coworkers try to set him up with someone they think is his type. “Oh, sorry,” Danny says, “I already promised Tim I’d help him with his tech upgrades tonight.”

Tim gets invited to a fancy gala where he might meet someone. Danny shows up with two tickets to a concert Tim mentioned liking a month ago. “Come on, you deserve a break.”

Neither of them realizes what’s happening, at least not consciously. To them, it’s just normal. They’re best friends. Of course, they’re going to prioritize each other. Of course, they’d rather hang out together than with some random stranger. Of course, no one else really gets them the way they get each other.

Their friends, however, are losing their minds.

Steph is convinced Tim and Danny are already dating and just haven't told anyone yet. Tucker and Sam are taking bets on how long this can possibly last before one of them snaps. Cass is tempted to lock them in a room until they sort out their feelings.

The kicker? Tim and Danny both think the other one doesn’t feel the same. They’re sabotaging potential love interests out of sheer self-preservation because the idea of watching the other fall in love with someone else is unbearable. But they can’t say anything, because what if it ruins their friendship? What if the marriage pact is all they get?

So, they keep pretending it’s fine. Danny keeps canceling dates for “missions” that could definitely wait. Tim keeps skipping events to spend time with Danny.

The late twenties deadline creeps closer. Everyone else is waiting for the inevitable implosion. Tim and Danny, oblivious as ever, are just… biding their time.

[cosmicalily]

'is it casual now?' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author’s note: ugh i’ve been reminiscing on all the boys and girls i’ve been knee deep in the passenger seat with (emotionally and physically) and thought omg i should share my angst with all of you!! although this is a lot more lighthearted, i’d consider it more so the mutual crushes before a relationship stage rather than a toxic situationship but take it as you’d like it! warnings: unspecified relationships/ situationships

casual…with chris

letting you sleep on his shoulder while he works in the studio. calling you at night and staying on the line until you’re asleep. driving you anywhere and everywhere because it’s “on the way” even when it isn’t. calling you ‘baby’, ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’ more than your own name. 

casual…with minho

buying groceries for the two of you without prompt. always cooking a double serve of dinner so you have something to eat. insane jealousy whenever anyone breathes near you. his hand on your thigh during drives. a photo of you and his cats as his phone wallpaper.

casual…with changbin

buying you presents for any and every occasion. sweaty, proud hugs after you finish a particularly difficult set at the gym. never ever letting you pay whenever you go out. constantly talking about you to his friends. 

casual…with hyunjin

having not had a girlfriend since meeting you. resting his head on your lap when he’s sleepy. telling you how beautiful he thinks you are every hour of the day. having a sketchbook filled with portraits of you, and a folder filled with candids. 

casual…with jisung

snuggles and tangled limbs under blankets while watching movies. spontaneous evening outings. making cd mixtapes for you of songs that remind him of you. drunk confessions and makeouts followed by sober apologies. 

casual…with felix

calling you ‘his girl’, even if you aren’t officially his yet. sitting on his lap while he games, builds keyboards or scrolls on his phone. reposting love tiktoks that include suspiciously accurate descriptions of you. playing with and braiding each other’s hair.

casual…with seungmin

letting you take over the aux when he’s driving. wearing his hoodies more than your own. playful cuddles, tickles and cheek kisses. asking him to sing for you over the phone at midnight. prolonged eye contact. knowing your coffee order by heart and bringing it to you each morning. 

casual…with jeongin

lingering touches to your waist, hips and sides. letting you borrow anything and everything from his closet. catching him staring at you in the mirror as you get ready. indirectly confessing by writing a love song about you on your birthday.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff - send an ask, reply or dm to be added!

[be4chywritez]

serious | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

rec: #37 with oscar piastri please? maybe they’re arguing or smth and he says something without thinking and reader starts crying? thank u!!

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

warnings: none except me being really high and writing this

You weren’t even sure how the argument started.

The plan had been simple—spend a quiet night with Oscar, finally get some time together before his schedule got crazy again. You had been curled up on his couch, legs thrown over his lap, teasing him about how helpless he was when it came to assembling furniture. It was harmless, the way most of your jokes were.

“You’d be lost without me,” you said with a grin, nudging his thigh. “Like, I’m pretty sure you’d still be eating your takeaway off a cardboard box if I wasn’t around.”

He chuckled at first, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be lost—I’d just have a slightly more… minimalist lifestyle.”

“Minimalist?” You snorted. “Oscar, you didn’t even own proper plates before I got here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I had plates.”

“Oh, my bad, I meant one singular plate and a set of mismatched cutlery you probably stole from McDonald’s.”

You expected him to laugh, to play along like he always did. But instead, his expression shifted—his jaw tensed, his fingers drummed absently against your shin. The lighthearted teasing suddenly felt heavier, like you had unknowingly poked at something deeper.

You should’ve stopped there, but you didn’t.

“Face it,” you said, grinning. “You’d be a disaster without me.”

And that’s when he sighed, long and sharp, before muttering, “You never take anything seriously.”

Your smile faltered.

“What?”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It’s like nothing matters to you.”

The words cut deeper than you expected. You blinked, suddenly unsure if you had misheard him.

“Nothing matters to me?” you repeated, voice quieter now, more careful.

He sighed again, still not looking at you. “I don’t know, sometimes it just feels like you don’t take me seriously.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Are you—” You let out a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Are you actually saying that? After everything?”

He exhaled through his nose, frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed. “You’re always joking, always acting like nothing’s a big deal. I get that it’s just how you are, but sometimes… I don’t know, sometimes I just wish you’d be serious for once.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening.

It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, like he actually believed them.

Like he believed you didn’t care.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as your vision blurred. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Oscar’s entire body stiffened.

“Shit,” he muttered, his frustration vanishing in an instant. His eyes widened as he reached for you, panic creeping into his voice. “Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

You turned your face away, wiping at your cheek quickly, but it was useless. Another tear followed, and Oscar groaned under his breath, like he physically hated himself for making you cry.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, shifting closer, his hands finding your face. “I swear I didn’t mean that.”

Your voice wobbled as you pulled back slightly. “Then why did you say it?”

He winced, his thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks, like he was trying to undo the damage. “I don’t know—I was frustrated, I wasn’t thinking.”

You let out a shaky breath. “You think I don’t take you seriously?”

“No,” he said instantly, voice thick with regret. “No, that’s not true. I know you do. I just—I was being a fucking idiot.”

You sniffled, eyes still glossy. “I always take you seriously, Oscar. I literally revolve my entire schedule around your ridiculous race calendar. I watch hours of onboard footage with you even though half the time I don’t even know what you’re analyzing. I show up to every race I can, I defend you when people online say dumb shit—”

“I know.” His hands were still on your face, his forehead now pressed against yours. His voice was softer now, desperate. “I know, baby. And I love that about you. I was just—I was just being an asshole.”

You swallowed hard, not fully ready to forgive him yet, but also not wanting to keep crying. His thumbs kept smoothing over your cheeks, his touch warm, grounding.

“I don’t like fighting with you,” you admitted, voice small.

“I hate fighting with you,” he murmured, tilting your face up slightly. “I especially hate making you cry.”

You let out a small, unsteady exhale, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “You really were an asshole just now.”

“I know.” He kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead. “Biggest asshole on the planet. Probably breaking some kind of world record.”

Despite everything, you huffed a quiet laugh. “I was this close to throwing a pillow at you.”

“I deserve worse.” He kissed your cheek this time, soft and lingering. “Like, I don’t know, maybe being forced to watch an entire season of your guilty pleasure reality show.”

You narrowed your eyes. “The Bachelor?”

He groaned but nodded. “Yeah. If that’s what it takes.”

You pretended to think about it. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

His lips finally twitched into something closer to a smile. “So lucky.”

And then, finally, he kissed you—soft and slow, like an apology woven between every press of his lips.

You let yourself sink into it, because even when he was frustrating, even when he made dumb mistakes, he was still yours.

And you took that seriously.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Good Luck Charm | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: If this was just supposed to be Casual, why is he acting like this? Why is he holding her close as if he never plans to let go?

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

It had started out as a casual thing. A friends-with-benefits arrangement, nothing more. At least, that’s what she told herself at first.

But Charles made it difficult to keep things casual. There was an undeniable charm to him, a sweetness she hadn't anticipated. He didn’t just text her at night or call her when he was back in Monaco. Instead, he called regularly, sometimes even when he was across the world for a race. He’d ask about her day, make her laugh with stories about his travels, and always ended with some version of, “I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

And then, there were the little things he did that went beyond what she’d expected. He’d bring her favorite coffee when they met up, remember small details she’d mentioned in passing, and leave her cute voice messages when he found something that reminded him of her. Charles was effortlessly thoughtful, as if caring for her was second nature.

One evening, after a tough qualifying session, he called her, his voice a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You would not believe how bad the setup felt today,” he complained. “It’s like the car just… refused to cooperate.”

She listened as he vented, offering encouragement and making him laugh with a few lighthearted comments. By the end of the call, he sounded calmer, even managing a smile in his voice. “You know, you’re good at this. You make me feel better even from thousands of miles away.”

“Well, someone has to keep you sane,” she teased.

“Oh, you’re doing much more than that,” he replied warmly. “Really, I wish you could be here. You’d probably make the whole race go smoother, just by being around.”

“Is that so?” she teased, her heart swelling at the thought. “And how exactly would I do that?”

“Your mere presence would calm my nerves,” he insisted, the playful lilt in his voice making her laugh. “You know how competitive it gets. If I could just look up and see you, I’d feel so much better.”

“Maybe I’ll have to make an appearance then,” she said lightly, but in her heart, she felt a pang of longing at the thought of being close to him, sharing those moments in person.

As the weeks passed, the calls became a comforting routine. He’d check in after qualifying sessions, asking her opinion on his performance, or he’d call after a disappointing race, needing to vent. It was during those moments that she began to see how much he truly valued her support.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to come in tenth?” he grumbled one afternoon, his voice low and strained as he paced in his hotel room.

“Pretty frustrating, I’d imagine,” she replied sympathetically. “But it’s just one race, right? You’ve got more coming up.”

“Yeah, but it’s Monaco next! I can’t mess that up. It’s my home! The pressure is insane.” He took a deep breath, and she could almost picture him running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I need to win this one.”

“Then you need to focus and stop overthinking it. You’re talented, Charles. Trust your instincts. You’ve got this,” she reassured him, her voice firm.

“You always know what to say. I can’t wait to come home and see you again.” He sounded lighter, a smile evident in his tone. “Maybe you should come see me race sometime.”

She laughed it off, but Charles was relentless. Every few days, he’d bring up the idea of her coming to watch him race. “Come on,” he’d say, “Just one weekend.”

But she kept brushing it off, always with a half-serious excuse. “Charles, I have a job, remember? I can’t just fly out to some random country you know”

One evening, he finally pulled out his best argument. “Monaco,” he said with a grin she could practically hear over the phone, “that's literally our backyard. No excuses this time.”

She groaned, pretending to resist. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“But charmingly so,” he countered, voice teasing but hopeful.

Eventually, she caved. “Fine. I’ll come. Just because you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

His laugh was practically a shout of victory. “You’re going to love it, I promise. And I’ll make sure you have the best seat in the house.”

When she arrived at the paddock on race day, Charles was waiting for her at the VIP entrance, practically bouncing on his feet. The moment he spotted her, he broke into a grin and quickly made his way over.

“You came!” He wrapped her in a hug, holding her close like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I’d be here,” she laughed, squeezing him back. “Though you owe me big time for putting up with all this noise and chaos.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to make it up to you,” he replied with a smirk, keeping his arm around her as he led her inside. “Let me show you around.”

Charles walked her through the paddock, his hand resting possessively on her lower back as he guided her past the hustle and bustle of team members, mechanics, and engineers. He introduced her to some of the crew, who greeted her with warm smiles, and she couldn’t help but feel the pride radiating from Charles as he spoke about the work they put into the car.

“See that guy?” he said, pointing to a tall man with a headset who was deeply focused on the monitor. “That’s my race engineer. He’s the one who helps guide me during the race.”

She nodded, genuinely interested as Charles continued to explain the intricacies of the race preparations. “And this,” he said, leading her to the Ferrari garage, “is where all the magic happens.”

As they entered at the Ferrari garage, Charles spotted his brother Arthur nearby. “Ah, you have to meet Arthur,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’ll love him.”

Arthur approached, giving her a friendly grin as he shook her hand. “So, you’re the ‘lucky charm’ Charles keeps talking about,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t start,” Charles muttered, clearly embarrassed, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat up as she shot Charles a playful look. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation around here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Arthur chuckled, giving his brother a knowing look. Charles just rolled his eyes and nudged him away, muttering something about “family being an embarrassment.”

Before long, Charles was called back for his final preparations, and he turned to her, his expression softening. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“Front row seat,” she promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The race itself was a whirlwind of emotions. As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, she felt her heart racing in tandem with the engines. Each lap was a rollercoaster of tension and excitement, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Charles. He navigated the track with grace and determination, every move calculated, every turn precise.

With each passing lap, the anticipation built, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, she couldn’t help but scream with joy. The entire atmosphere erupted in cheers, but for her, it was all about Charles. He’d done it. He’d won!

As he climbed out of the car, sweat glistening on his forehead, he scanned the crowd until his eyes locked onto hers. A wide smile broke across his face, and he hurried over, not caring about the cameras or the noise.

“Did you see that? I did it!” he shouted, wrapping her in a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. She could hardly believe it as he peppered her face with kisses, excitement spilling over. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“I think you had it in you all along!” she laughed, overwhelmed by the joy radiating from him.

“Not without you here,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You make everything better.”

She laughed, still wrapped in his arms, as he planted quick, enthusiastic kisses all over her face. “Charles, everyone’s watching!”

“Let them watch,” he said, not even caring, still grinning as he peppered her face with kisses.

The celebration was in full swing when they stepped into the club, Charles was surrounded by friends, team members, and fans who were all there to revel in his long-awaited Monaco victory. The energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride watching him receive endless pats on the back, his grin wide and eyes gleaming under the flashing lights. He never let her stray far from his side, keeping a steady arm around her waist as they moved through the crowd.

"Finally won my home race," he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the music, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. "It still doesn’t feel real."

She nudged him lightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "You sure it happened? You’re not dreaming right now?"

"Guess I’ll find out if I wake up," he said, laughing as he twirled her in place, pulling her back against his chest. "But you’re here, so I’d say this has to be real."

They both laughed, the shared warmth and excitement washing over them like a wave. He kept her close as they moved through the club, accepting congratulations and raising toasts with anyone who approached. But every few minutes, his hand would slide back to hers, squeezing her fingers or pulling her back to his side. His eyes would find hers, that familiar spark of mischief dancing in his gaze.

Eventually, they found themselves tucked into a quieter corner of the club, away from the crowd. Charles leaned against the wall, tugging her closer until her hands rested on his chest, his grin turning cheeky as he looked down at her.

“So, you’re not disappearing on me tonight, are you?” he teased, his fingers tracing a lazy line up her arm. “I kind of like having you around.”

“Disappearing?” she laughed. “Please, Leclerc, it’s like I’m glued to you tonight. You’ve barely let go of my hand.”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to her waist as he pulled her even closer. "Can you blame me? Best night of my life, and I want you right here."

The sincerity in his voice softened her, but he quickly masked it with a grin, tugging her back onto the dance floor. They spent hours laughing, dancing, and talking between sips of champagne, the atmosphere around them filled with lighthearted banter. Charles was in his element, his joy contagious as he celebrated with everyone around him, but his attention kept circling back to her—small glances, soft touches, lingering smiles.

At one point, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Come with me."

Before she could respond, he was guiding her toward a secluded corridor at the back of the club, pressing her gently against the wall. His hands settled on her waist as he looked down at her, his gaze intense and filled with an energy that set her pulse racing. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts heated and sweet, his fingers tracing her sides as he held her close.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur. "Thank you for being here tonight. Wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate with anyone else."

The words made her chest tighten, and before she could respond, he was kissing her again, a soft laugh escaping his lips as they stayed wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world outside their small bubble.

Later, as the night wound down, they left the club together, Charles’ hand never leaving hers. Back at his apartment, he pulled her inside, his smile turning playful again. "One more toast, maybe?"

“Isn’t that what you said after the last toast?” she teased, following him into the kitchen as he poured them each a final glass of champagne.

“What can I say? It’s a big night,” he said, winking. They clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving hers as they sipped, and when she set her glass down, he was already pulling her close, his lips brushing along her jawline before settling on her lips.

They drifted into his bedroom, Charles’ touches growing more insistent as he held her close, a mix of laughter and whispered words filling the space between them. He was relentless, the intensity of the night fueling each kiss, each lingering touch as they stayed wrapped up in each other.

Finally, as the early hours of morning crept in, they lay tangled together in his bed, the celebrations fading into a comfortable quiet. Charles lay beside her, his face nestled against her neck as his breathing slowed, a soft smile on his face.

“Perfect night,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

She smiled, her fingers running through his hair as she whispered, “Yeah, it was.”

In the quiet that followed, she felt his breathing even out, his arm around her tightening slightly as he drifted off to sleep, holding her close as if he never planned to let go.

Taglist: @dullypully @wintterily @sageskiesf1 @firefirevampire @eloriis

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | k. seungmin <3

a/n: these days i am QUITE the seungmin simp & it shows :,-) i had a lot of fun writing a very classic kpop fic meet-cute with this one ! if you need me, i'll be watching seungmin compilations <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

on your 18th birthday, you receive a stack of sticky notes on which you can write to your soulmate. there is one note for every day leading up to when you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you settled into your desk chair, eager to see what anecdote seungmin has chosen for you today. it was always a thrill to get a peek into his daily life, and it was especially entertaining when he removed context from the situation to make you laugh. over the years, he developed a knack for telling stories just the way you liked them. 

we went shopping today, in that area that always smells like ice cream cone batter. i bought a cool phone case. you better compliment me on it when we meet. i know it’s only ten days away, but i encourage you to put a reminder on your calendar, so you don’t forget to appreciate my taste in accessories. 

-yours, seungmin 

you scoffed. he was always extra sassy when he was excited about something. you tapped your pen against your desk, devising the perfect reply to seungmin’s daily update.

i promise i’ll tell you the phone case is cool, if and only if it actually is. we must be on the same wavelength because i went shopping today too (it didn’t smell like ice cream cone batter where i was though). i picked out new clothes for the day we meet, so you better compliment me on it as soon as you see me. should we make a joint calendar event since you’re quite forgetful?

-yours, y/n

not even 30 seconds passed when you saw seungmin’s handwriting appear near the bottom of the sticky note. you smiled, feeling his playful energy infect you.

like a wise person said, i’ll tell you the outfit is cool, if and only if it actually is. i’d love to make a joint calendar event, but we can’t share contact information yet, remember? i’ll have to trust you won’t forget the phone case…i guess that’s more important than remembering a basic rule about soulmates, so i’ll have faith in you :-) 

-yours, seungmin

with another roll of your eyes, you wrote your last message to seungmin for the night.

you test my patience, kim seungmin. get some rest now. i know you’re working hard on your comeback, so i’ll be rooting for you! 

-yours, y/n

you smiled at the tiny heart seungmin drew in the bottom corner of the page before you peeled the sticky note off the stack. electricity ran through you every time you noticed how much it shrank. soon, very soon, you would be teased by seungmin in person. you hoped that you’d deliver the perfect eye roll in response to his snarky comments, as a way to show him you truly loved him.

staring at the note, seungmin laughed at his desk, right when felix walked by.

“what’d y/n say?”

“none of your business.”

despite the nature of the retort, seungmin’s tone was lighthearted. felix laughed and left seungmin alone to place the completed sticky note in his not-so-secret box, where he kept every word you’ve ever exchanged safe from the rest of the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hi soulmate~ let’s see if our tastes match. tell me your ideal meet-cute.

-yours, seungmin

you felt a blush on your skin at seungmin’s cute tone. you imagined he was feeling particularly sweet as your meeting was only three days away. you took your time mentally ranking the best meet-cutes you’d witnessed in books, movies, tv, and real life.

hi seungmin~ there are a lot of good ones, but i have to stick with the classic: locking eyes across a crowded room. what’s yours?

-yours, y/n

you stared at the note, eager to see whether seungmin had a romantic side after all. you laughed in disbelief when you read his answer.

wow, no “hi soulmate~”? rude :-( my favorite trope is spilling coffee on someone. i’d enjoy that as long as i’m not the one getting spilled on. let’s hope your outfit isn’t too cool!

-yours, seungmin

you imagined seungmin was laughing at his own joke, which balanced out his vague threat to spill coffee on you.

you’re such a menace :-( i’m about to revoke “soulmate” from your nicknames, as a matter of principle. 

-yours, y/n

seungmin, despite himself, blushed at the thought of you having different nicknames picked out for him. his heart fluttered, feeling extra sweet because of you.

i’m YOUR menace. see you soon! i’ll be the handsome man holding two coffees <3

-yours, seungmin 

you sighed, knowing there was a real chance he’d carry two coffees around that whole day. if there was one thing about seungmin, he’d commit to the bit. 

i’ll run away from you, and i hope you spill one of the coffees on yourself while you chase me. at least we’ll be matching <3

-yours, y/n

from miles away, you and seungmin laughed at the same time. similarly, you both played out different meet-cute scenarios for the rest of the night. seungmin would never admit this to you, but he’d love to see the excited look on your face if your chosen meet-cute was what fate had in store.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

though you returned home later than usual, you were still surprised to see the sticky note halfway filled up by the time you sat at your desk. 

my schedules start before sunrise tomorrow, so i have to go to bed early, like a grandpa. chan says this is a good time to go to bed…what else would we expect though? anyways, i’m sorry i won’t get to write back tonight. tell me about your day! i’ll read it as soon as i wake up. i promise. :-)

sleep well, and i’ll see you tomorrow~

-yours, seungmin

your heart sank a little at the fact you wouldn’t be able to interact directly with seungmin the night before the long-awaited day. however, the butterflies in your stomach reminded you that there was plenty to be excited about.

hi soulmate~ i’m jealous you’re sleeping so early. i was out late because i had to get everything ready before attending the live show recording tomorrow (i still can’t believe i won that ticket lottery!). i’m worried i won’t be able to sleep well from the excitement. 

don’t forget about my outfit! just look for the best-dressed person and you’ll find me :-)

i’ll be sending you the strength to get through your schedules! i can’t wait to see you tomorrow~

-yours, y/n

you smiled to yourself, feeling in your heart that seungmin would start his day off happy, as you finally gave him the greeting he’d been waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 

from the second he read your note, seungmin couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. everyone noticed the way he beamed, so it didn’t take long for them to put together that he’d be meeting you today. his members were painfully obvious about trying to catch a glimpse of you wherever they went. seungmin was in such a good mood that he didn’t even tease them that much. 

realizing that the live show recording was almost definitely where you’d meet, seungmin noticed that his palms were sweatier than normal. he shook them out, taking deep breaths to calm his heart rate. this may not have been the first stage for their new song, but it was the first stage you’d be at, so the stakes were high. 

despite the nerves from the night before, you were happily enjoying yourself at the show. of course, every performance was incredible, and the crowd was energetic. by the time there was only one act left, you felt your body start to grow tired. an adrenaline rush hit you full force, however, when you saw the name “stray kids” light up the stage.

jaw dropped, you were silent while the rest of the crowd screamed. your eyes raced to find seungmin. he was on the opposite end of the stage, giving you at least a chance at composing yourself before he saw your face. the music started, and you joined the crowd’s cheers. seungmin’s stage presence and vocals in person were breathtaking, and you felt a swell of pride knowing that your soulmate was so talented.

as though he could sense you were thinking of him, seungmin turned his head to the area where you stood. the second you locked eyes, seungmin grinned like an excited puppy. he waved to you, feeling giddy enough to make a heart with his hands. you matched his energy, smiling widely and bouncing from the magic of it all. there he was, just across the room, saying “hi” to you and only you.

per the instructions seungmin mouthed from the stage, you waited in your seat for a bit until a staff member brought you backstage. despite the recording being done, the halls were crowded with bustling employees and idols alike. all of the noise was drowned out by someone calling your name.

“hey y/n! i like your outfit!”

you turned around, seeing seungmin waving again. he beamed, and you rushed over to him. 

“you remembered!”

seungmin laughed at your excitement, “i did forget my coffee though. it looks like your meet-cute won in the end.”

his eyes twinkled as he looked at you. rather than feeling nervous, you two chattered endlessly. you giggled at the way seungmin blushed when you complimented his performance. in turn, seungmin giggled at the way you blushed when he called you pretty. being able to have a conversation that exceeded the character limit of a sticky note left both of you with the zoomies, much to the entertainment of seungmin’s eavesdropping members. 

“seungmin!” hyunjin yelled from a suspiciously nearby spot, “we have to leave soon!” hyunjin waved at you, “hi y/n!”

you waved back, and seungmin told you to ignore hyunjin, which made you laugh. as you exchanged contact information, you kept your promise and examined seungmin’s phone case.

“i like your phone case, seungmin! it matches your style perfectly,” you pointed at the object in his hand.

“thank you!” seungmin grinned for the umpteenth time that day, proudly holding the phone out for you to see, “this is the best part, if you ask me.”

you were surprised to see a sticky note in the back of his phone case. you leaned closer to examine it, and you felt a wave of fondness wash over you. in his hand, seungmin held one of your earliest sticky notes. on it, you had drawn a picture of what you thought seungmin looked like, purely based on how he wrote. you were way off, which you learned once you saw a picture of him online. it did accurately capture seungmin’s personality, though, so seungmin was quite proud of your artistry. 

“it’s a one-of-a-kind drawing, so i wanted to show it off.”

seungmin’s tone was teasing, but you could feel the compliment, “you’re so sweet, seungmin! maybe i should have a matching one?”

he nodded, “i better see the portrait i drew of you in your phone case next time i see you.”

you laughed, “understood! i feel chan staring at us, so you should get going. call me when you get home?”

“of course!” seungmin smiled, “promise me one more thing?”

“hmm,” you feigned deep thought, “it depends on what it is.”

“next time you come to watch us perform, sit by my side of the stage.”

“only if i can see lee know too.”

seungmin glared at you momentarily, breaking into a laugh because he was so endeared by the pout you gave in response. after you said your goodbyes, you watched seungmin bound down the hall to meet his members. before he went around the corner, he turned to wave to you again, mouthing goodbye, soulmate!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 13] Payback

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Shiu x Reader, Smut, Handjob

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji takes you out to dinner, bringing Megumi along so it’s not seen as a date. He takes you to one of your favorite places to eat, and you’re sure he has something up his sleeve. What can Toji possibly do this time around? You try not to think too much as to what Toji can possibly do since you are eating something you like, and something your baby seems to enjoy.

You’re mostly talking with Megumi, completely forgetting about Toji’s existence while the two of you talk. Occasionally Toji chimes in with something stupid, it does earn a chuckle from you each and every time though. You eat in peace, and you almost feel like a family.

“We have to talk about something.” Toji ruins your peaceful moment after you order dessert. Your eyebrows perk up, and you wait for him to speak up. What does Toji need now? He’s not going to beg when his son is right there.

“What is it?” You ask him, not being patient enough to wait for him to spit it out. Megumi adverts his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his father.

“I’m seeing someone.” Toji reveals, and your eyes grow wide. The same man that was begging you to get back together not even a week ago is telling you that he’s seeing someone. It’s fair to say that you’re speechless with the announcement. You have no idea what one says with this type of announcement.

“That’s good…” You try to remain stoic with the news. He wants a reaction from you, and you’ll make sure not to give it to him. You have a lot of questions, but maybe it’s best if you keep them to yourself– Maybe ask Shiu or even Megumi. 

“Don’t you have any questions?” Toji asks, and to his disappointment, you shake your head. Megumi still isn’t looking at his dad, and Toji sighs defeatedly. “I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“He isn’t seeing anyone.” Megumi quickly reveals when Toji gets up and leaves to use the bathroom. You furrow your brows, knowing that a teenager is involved in his father’s affairs. You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that Toji just can’t help but share everything with the world, “There’s a woman that visits him and does like him a lot but he’s not into her. They went on a date… But he’s just doing this to make you jealous.”

“I figured as much.” You chuckle. It does make you feel better, but it also upsets you. He goes through great lengths to make your life more difficult. You click your tongue before saying, “Your dad’s a dumbass.”

“Tell me about it.” Megumi responds, and you two change the topic into something more lighthearted. The conversation dies when Toji comes back from the bathroom, but luckily for you, dessert gets to the table.

You dive right into the sweet treat, noticing how neither of them grab their spoons and begin to eat. You knew they would agree to order dessert but proceed to not eat any of it. They’ll just say anything to please you.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie?” Toji asks, catching you off guard. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the audacity. First, he says that he’s seeing someone, then he proceeds to invite you back to his place; you know better than anyone that Toji doesn’t mean anything platonic when he invites you back to his home.

“I can’t.” You proceed to put your hand on your bump. “Baby makes me sleepy and I’d rather not fall asleep on your couch.”

“I’ll carry you to our bed.” Toji says, and you bite your tongue. You shake your head disappointedly.

“Aren’t you seeing someone, Toji?” You point out, and he remains unphased. He’s seeing someone but he couldn’t make it clear that he doesn’t respect them enough. Right then and there, the best idea comes to your mind, and you blurt out, “Plus, Shiu wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“What does that idiot have to do with anything?” Toji quickly asks, wondering why you're bringing his best friend into this. 

“You’re not the only one seeing someone else.” You lie to him, and you know that it’ll cause some issues for Shiu but right now the look on Toji's face is priceless. He’s gone completely white, completely speechless.

“What do you mean?” Toji tries to see if his ears deceive him. But your next words reaffirm what he just heard,

“I’m seeing Shiu.” 

“You..” He begins but for some reason he can’t finish his sentence. Toji Fushiguro, who is never at a loss for words, can’t speak. “You’re seeing my best friend? Romantically?”

“Yes.” You nod in response, and the man has to take a sip of his water to calm himself down. He’s a little too young to have a heart attack, no? Why is his heart beating so fast?

“Megumi, keep an ambulance on standby. I’m going to be sick.” Toji says, putting his hand over his chest, and Megumi rolls his eyes at how dramatic his father is.

“You’re so dramatic.” Megumi mutters, crossing his arms. “I thought you were seeing someone too?”

“She’s seeing my best friend!” Toji yells, and you take a deep breath. All eyes are on you. He’s so dramatic over nothing.

“You kept sending him over, what else did you expect?” You ask him, adding fuel to the fire. You don’t want to sit by and watch Toji act as if he’s a victim. “I’m not really in the mood tonight, Toji. If you need anything, text me.” 

“Wait!” He yells, but his plea falls on deaf ears.

An hour after you get home, there’s a knock on your door. Your mind immediately goes to Toji, and you’re about to ignore it since you’re not really in the mood for talking. But after thinking it over, and as the knocking becomes more desperate, you realize that Toji wouldn’t be at your door yet.

“Shiu… He told you.” Are the first words to leave your mouth as you open the door. He doesn’t look as mad as you expected him to be… Matter of fact, he looks amused. “Sorry, he just said something and I wanted to piss him off.”

“I’m not mad. Well, maybe a bit.” He licks his lips. You’re trying to read his expression, trying to decipher what he’s feeling. Shiu is just like Toji, hard for you to read. But you luckily got to know Toji enough to be able to read him like the palm of your hand; Shiu, on the other hand, is still foreign to you.

“Why?” You ask him, moving aside to let him into the place. He takes the hint, stepping inside the apartment. He takes off his shoes and loosens the tie that’s around his neck before making himself comfortable on your couch.

“You got me in trouble with Toji and I didn’t get anything in return.” He says, and you can’t help but smirk. You walk over to him, sitting down beside him.

“What do you want in return then? I’m at your service.” You look mischievous, and he’s about to match your energy. You’re moving closer to him, and he doesn’t even try to move away.

“A nice candle lit dinner will do.” He answers, though it’s not what you have in mind. And you know that it isn’t what he has in mind either. You move closer until you’re practically breathing down his neck. He knows that whatever you’re going to do, you’ll do it with the sole purpose of getting back at Toji. 

“How about I give you something else?” You whisper into his ear and a chill runs down his spine. He bites down his lips before nodding in response. He doesn’t care that this will have consequences. He can’t just tell Toji that you were lying because it did happen.

Your lips lightly press against his, quickly pulling away before you ask him, “Do you want this? I can stop.”

“I want it.” He confirms, your lips going back on his but not pulling away. Your tongue swipes over his bottom lip, before his mouth parts. Your tongue enters his mouth, quickly pressing against his own tongue, while your hand caresses his thigh.

All of Shiu’s blood rushes to his dick, and he could moan even if you’re not doing anything yet. Since the moment he laid eyes on you, Shiu has wanted to do this. He’s been waiting an eternity to feel your lips on his, and he can’t control himself when he finally feels you.

His hand goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue takes control. Your hand goes to unbuckle his belt, struggling since you only use one hand. He helps you out, in a rush to feel your hands on him.

“Are you sure?” You pull away from the kiss to ask him. He feels your hand play with the waistband of his briefs. He wants to scream yes into the air, over and over again. He’s never wanted something more. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Toji.”

“You already did.” He chuckles before his lips land on yours again. Your hand goes into his briefs, your thumb circling over the tip of his cock before your hand moves down to the base. You begin to lazily stroking his cock, and the man moans into the kiss even when you’ve yet to do much. 

You pull away from the kiss, taking your hand out and spitting on it before going back to pumping his cock. You peck his lips, before kissing his cheek and making your way to his ear. Your teeth begin to nibble on his earlobe as Shiu throws his head back and moans into the air.

He’s red, already sweating and out of breath with how good you’re making him feel. He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as your hand twists on his dick. It’s just a handjob, nothing that warrants the reaction that he gives you. But he couldn’t care less.

“Fuck– Like that.” He moans as your hand picks up speed. His cheek is pressing against your head, his hand gripping your shirt as he feels his release near. His mind is focused on you, and only you. Lately you’re all that he’s thinking about, and this isn’t going to help him.

Shiu will do just about anything for you.

He’s moaning your name over and over again until a groan leaves his lips, his cum ruining his shirt and coating your hand. He looks at you, eyes filled with lust. He’s in need of more. But just in a brief moment, guilt takes over.

“Do you want more?” You ask him, and he does. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, he swore to himself he wouldn’t do this to Toji. Moreover, you’re simply doing this to get back at Toji, and it doesn’t feel right.

Shiu was willing to do this no matter what at first, but tonight he doesn’t want to be used. Maybe his feelings for you go deeper than mere lust.

“Maybe another time.” He answers, and you get off him. He stands up and makes his way to your bathroom to fix himself up. 

“Will this make up for the candle lit dinner or do you want something else?!” You shout, while you look for some tissues to clean yourself up as well. 

“We’re even!” He yells back, and you’re fighting back a smirk, biting on the inside of your cheek. You know that he’s going to want more even though he claims you’re even.

You just have to give it some time before he comes knocking at your door again, asking for more.

[jeonscatalyst]

Do you know when those narratives of bighit using jikook to cover up taekook started? I remember in my baby army days (early-mid 2017 ish) those narratives were already around but there were no specific ships accused of being used as a "cover up". It was just "taekook interactions were cut from aired footage" or "bighit doesn't allow taekook to be next to each other in official content to protect them". For context i'm a returning fan, i fell out with bangtan back in 2020 because life got too busy, now i'm back and suddenly i see taekookers saying jikook is a cover up for taekook 😅 it might have been a regional fanbase thing since baby army me didn't specifically engage with the west side of the fandom but rather south east asia?

I've always been a jikooker (for fun at the beginning since i liked their vocals together, then mr jeon jk dropped the bombshell that is gcft and i was gagged) but i used to watch a lot of taekook theories, which was how i came across that company covers taekook narrative. I know jikook has always been a sensitive subject in the fandom but i learned just recently how bad it has gotten over the years. AYS?! and their military enlistment really got fire under people's seats.

Hi anon.

As someone who’s been in this fandom for a while, I’d say those narratives really started gaining traction around 2017, especially after GCFT.

You see, in the early days, Jikook as a ship barely existed. The most popular pairings were Taekook and Namjin, and to a lesser extent, Vmin and Yoonmin. Jikook hardly got any attention. Taekook had a lot of cute and playful moments…they were always seen goofing around, being mischievous, and just having a lighthearted bond. In contrast, not many people paid attention to Jimin and Jungkook’s interactions, partly because their dynamic didn’t always appear as wholesome or easygoing as Taekook’s. Naturally, many fans gravitated toward Taekook because it was more digestible, more heartwarming, and lacked that sense of emotional push and pull which people just looking for an escape from the real world weren’t ready to deal with.

Now, as is typical in fan culture, people tend to ship characters they enjoy seeing together regardless of whether they believe anything romantic is truly happening. That’s what happened with Taekook. They were the two youngest members with an adorable bond, and since romantic love is often wrongly seen as the highest form of love, everything had to be framed as romance. Taekook quickly became BTS’s biggest ship.

Fast forward to around 2016, and there was a noticeable shift….Taekook weren’t being seen together in content as much, and when they were, something felt different. Around this time, many people claimed there was suddenly a rise in Jikook content, but that’s not entirely true. Jikook had always been there. It’s just that their moments were overlooked because Taekook’s interactions dominated the spotlight. As the members matured, Jikook’s bond also evolved from roughhousing and teasing to something much softer and more emotionally grounded. Naturally, people began to take notice. But what really changed the game was Jungkook’s GCFT.

Once GCFT dropped, it became impossible to ignore Jikook. Even those who hadn’t paid much attention started to see the dynamic between them. And because Taekook was the most famous and widely accepted ship at the time, this shift was something many Taekookers couldn’t handle. To make sense of it…and to keep believing in their preferred narrative, they latched onto the only explanation that fit their perspective: the company was using Jikook to cover up Taekook.

These narratives began circulating around 2017. While I can’t say for sure who started them, there’s no doubt that Taekook-lives played a major role in making them widespread. Taekookers were desperate to explain why Jungkook was suddenly doing so much with Jimin even though they had long believed that the person he truly loved was Taehyung. So when someone came along offering an explanation that allowed them to maintain that belief, they clung to it no matter how absurd it sounded. Many had formed a deep emotional attachment to the fantasy of Taekook, and they weren’t ready to let it go.

As with most things in life, if you look hard enough for proof of something, you’ll find it. There are plenty of instances where interactions between members get cut and there are a number of plausible reasons for that. Coincidences, editing choices, off-camera behavior that couldn’t be aired… the list goes on. But Taekookers were looking for confirmation, so Taekook-lives began combing through content, cherry-picking any moments that supported the idea of Taekook being “separated.” She ignored the fact that every member pairing has had moments like that, and since no one else was compiling those kinds of edits for other ships, it created the illusion that only Taekook were being “targeted” by the company….even when the so-called cuts made no sense at all.

As people consumed these long, dramatized YouTube videos titled “Taekook Being Separated by Bighit” or similar misleading content, they developed a kind of protective instinct. They truly began to believe Taekook were being oppressed and that belief gave them a cause to fight for. When people feel like they’re defending something pure and hidden, especially in the face of adversity, it creates a kind of loyalty and determination that’s hard to break. That’s how the group kept growing. And this also explains why so many Taekookers developed such strong animosity toward Jimin. In their eyes, he became the villain…a bad friend to Taehyung….because they believed he was helping the company keep Taekook apart without caring how his actions hurt Taehyung.

In short, these narratives gained traction in 2017 because many Taekookers couldn’t accept that human relationships are complex. Sometimes, people drift apart…because of age, life changes, or evolving circumstances….and form deeper bonds with others. But instead of acknowledging that, they created a storyline where the company was forcibly separating Taekook and using Jikook as a smokescreen.

Because in their world, Taekook couldn’t have naturally grown apart. No…..it just had to be sabotage.

[yveslogy]

All along, baby

Pairing: Se-mi × Reader

A slow-burn romance with best friends, unspoken feelings, missed opportunities and a fear of losing each other. Themes of heartbreak, self-discovery, and the bittersweet knowledge that love was there all along courses through it.

Note: This story is a work of creative writing based on my real-life events. Names, characters and details have been changed for privacy and storytelling purposes. Any similarity to actual persons, is purely coincidental.

Word count: 971

Heartbreak looks ugly on you.

Se-mi doesn’t actually say it, but she thinks it every time she sees you hunched in a ball on her couch, swaddled in a blanket like a butterfly in a cocoon, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your eyes are rimmed with red, your throat hoarse from all the crying you pretend not to be doing. It’s been weeks since the breakup, and while you’re getting better, there are still nights you show up at her door, looking lost.

And every time, no questions asked, she opens the door for you.

“You know,” you mumble one night with your head on her shoulder, “if you were my girlfriend, I think I’d be over this heartbreak thing by now.”

Se-mi scoffs, drinking another gulp of her beer. “Please. You'd be just as annoying.”

“You love me,” you say, poking her in the side.

“Debatable.”

You smile, and for the first time in a long time, it’s real. Se-mi tries to ignore how her stomach flips.

It’s after that, that you start calling her baby.

At first, it’s only a joke—something for you to toss carelessly, something for you to get lighthearted with when there is a big heavy weight in your chest. You say it with whimsy when she brings you your favorite snacks, melodrama when she picks up your calls at midnight, chortling when she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a clingy,” she says one afternoon, but she doesn’t pull away when you put your arm through hers.

“Hush, baby,” you hummed, patting her head.

She stares at you, but she doesn’t tell you to stop.

Months go by and you begin to heal. The cracks in you are still there, but they’ve lost their depth. You begin laughing more, going out more, and eventually you stop showing up at her doorstep with heartbreak in your eyes. Se-mi reminds herself that this is a good thing.

And then one day she learns you’re dating someone new.

Someone else tells her first—one of your mutual friends, mentioning it casually over dinner. “Did you know? Yeah, just a couple weeks ago. They seem happy.”

Happy.

Se-mi acts like it doesn’t bother her. She smiles, nods, plays along as if that’s just another piece of information, nothing to see here. But later that night, when she sees you uploading pictures with your new girlfriend, all soft smiles and twisted fingers, something inside her grips.

She insists to herself that it’s nothing.

She doesn’t like you.

She never has.

Right?

But then she feels it the way you look at her—your new girlfriend—the same way you used to look at her when you were sad and needed her to lean onto for comfort. She knows how you call her baby now, the way you laugh at her texts the same way you used to laugh at Se-mi’s. And it hits her like a sucker punch—an ugly, twisting realization.

She misses you.

No, worse.

She wants you.

But it’s too late.

She watches, swallowing down the bitter taste in her mouth, pretending that all is well. She stops responding as promptly, stops calling you as regularly. And you notice.

“Are you avoiding me?” you say one day, cocking your head at her.

“No,” she lies.

You don’t press further. You simply nod but something hangs in your face—a feeling like disappointment.

You don’t hear back for weeks, and then suddenly you and your girlfriend split.

Se-mi doesn’t want the details.

She doesn’t call, doesn’t knock on your door with ice cream and bad movies as she did the last time. Because this time she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to.

And then you and Se-mi stop talking for the first time in months.

The silence stretches. Days turn into weeks.

She tells herself to move on. That she’s being ridiculous. That she doesn’t even know what she wants.

But then she runs into you again—randomly, unexpectedly, at some coffee shop you both used to frequent. You look the same and you look different all at once—calmer, maybe, but tired in such a way that she wonders if you miss her, too.

She hesitates. For as long as she simply watches you, fingers wrapped tight around her cup, weighing whether she should turn around and leave.

But she’s tired of running.

Now she doesn’t think twice.

She marches right up to you and says, “I like you.”

You blink at her, surprised. “Se-mi-”

“I should’ve told you earlier,” she interjects, a flurry of nerves, hands tight. “I didn’t think I did. I thought I was just being your friend, but then you went and started calling someone else baby, and it was like—like my brain finally figured out what my heart already knew.” She exhales sharply. “I like you. I have for a long time.”

You stare at her, silent.

Seconds drag, and for the first time Se-mi is really, truly scared.

Then you laugh, a low laugh, and shake your head. “You’re an idiot.”

Se-mi frowns. “Excuse me-”

You move near enough that your fingers graze hers and she freezes. “I think … I think I knew,” you say quietly. “But guess what, I didn’t want to push you. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t know what to say.

But then you squeeze her hand, hesitantly but resolutely, and that is enough.

It takes time.

You take your time, you don’t go all in on something too quickly. You move slowly—figuring it out, negotiating the shift from camaraderie to something deeper.

But one day, when you are sitting next to her, fingers intertwined idly, you lean into her and tend to whisper, Baby.

And this time when she rolls her eyes, she’s smiling.

Because she no longer needs to pretend.

She’s yours.

And you are hers.

Author’s Note: Love, timing and heartbreak are tricky things. Often, you don’t know how important someone is to you until you lost them. This is a story about missed opportunities, self-discovery and the bravery it takes to finally speak your truth. It reflects on love being something that happens slowly, the bittersweet agony of watching someone be ready to move on long before you.

This is for anyone who has ever loved a friend in silence, hesitated out of fear, or shown up too late. Love doesn’t always look and feel the way we might think it should, but when it’s real, it will come home.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

TBOSAS Vogue Interviews — Rachel + Tom

(next part will be you and Josh’s interview)

no descriptors other than reader being shorter than tom but i use she / her. click [HERE] for the table of contents for all things tom x actress!reader

for the interviews, rachel and tom are still paired up since they’re the leads, and you’re with josh. sorry hunter hshxhsdi. also in this tbosas has been out for a month so the cast is allowed to talk specific scenes and give “spoilers”

The first bit of the video shows short clips of some answers, but no context as to what the questions are.

“Oh that’s an easy one, my girlfriend,” Tom can’t help but smile.

Rachel playfully slaps him with the card. “I was going to say her!”

~

“Pepper jack,” Rachel shrugs.

“Maybe… maybe a sharp cheddar?” Tom laughs.

~

Tom sighs, “that was quite a hard scene to film. After each take I’d ask if she was alright at least a couple of times.”

“Honestly the games as a whole, because I missed a lot of the stunt training.”

~

THE INTERVIEW —

“Hi Vogue, I’m Rachel Zegler.”

“And I’m Tom Blyth. Today we’re here to ask each other some questions, rapid fire.”

Rachel shuffles the interview cards around. “Okay first question, what would you say was the most difficult scene to film and why? Ooh I have my answer already.”

“You go first, I’m still thinking,” Tom laughs.

“Well for me, the most difficult scenes physically were honestly… the games as a whole. I missed a lot of the stunt training so to have one of my first scenes be me running like crazy screaming for Jessup, it was pretty intense.”

Tom blushes a little. “Sort of piggy backing off of Rachel’s answer, the hardest physically I’d definitely say my scene with Josh when we’re running out of the arena. The first few takes were stopped fairly quickly because either he or I would trip. But the most difficult emotionally, the scene in the cabin with Coriolanus and Nova May.”

“Aww,” Rachel puts her hand over her heart. “That’s was so cool to watch you both but yeah I can for sure see why it would be difficult. Did you guys rehearse it a lot?”

Tom shakes his head. “Not at all actually. We ran through the lines a few times but as far as acting out the whole scene, not until we were on set and they wanted a run through. And thankfully after the third take they were satisfied. That was quite a hard scene to film. After each take I’d ask if she was alright at least a couple of times.”

Off camera, someone asks “how long have you guys been together?”

“Pretty much since we met,” Tom tries, and fails to hide his smile. “So she and Josh were actually cast on the same day in June of 2022. At that point Rachel and I had already been cast, and the 4 of us, it just so happened that we were all in London for one thing or another and we all went out to dinner that night. Knew I fancied her right away, and I wanna say it wasn’t even a couple of weeks later that I asked her to be my girlfriend. Sorry I know I went off topic. To answer your actual question, almost a year and a half.”

Tom and Rachel chat for a couple of minutes as cameras are moved around to capture different angles.

“Next question, something a lot more lighthearted. If you were a cheese, what—”

“Pepper jack,” Rachel shrugs, not elaborating.

Tom bursts out laughing. “You had that answer ready awfully quick.”

“What can I say, I’m a cheese girly.”

“I guess that’s my go. Pepper jack is a good answer by the way. I’ll go cheddar. Maybe… maybe a sharp cheddar?”

Rachel taps her chin as if considering what Tom just said. “Yeah, I could see sharp cheddar. Okay guys sorry they’re motioning behind cameras that we have to speed it up. This is rapid fire and we’ve only answered two questions, sorry!”

“Sorry guys! Okay okay next question. Who is your favorite person to run lines with? Oh that’s an easy one, my girlfriend.”

“I was gonna say her!” Rachel faces the camera. “You guys, she’s seriously the best person for that. She memorizes lines sooo fast. By the end she won’t need a script to help you and she’ll be able to still correct you if you mess up!”

“What — oh wait I’ve already asked that question,” Tom flips through the cards, “okay here we go. If you could play any other character in the film, who would you play?”

Rachel claps and points at Tom. “We were just talking about this! I’d either want to play your character because I think it would be so fun to kind of switch to the villain. Or Nova May because hello she’s a badass.”

“Do you know what, and I swear I’m not making this up, my answers are the same as yours. either Nova May because I feel like she’s the opposite of Coriolanus in a way. Or Lucy Gray because I love that even after the games, she’s stayed true to who she is and she doesn’t let Coriolanus corrupt her.”

Rachel and Tom chat again as cameras and lights are moved around. They each do 2 questions.

“Okay we’ve each got one more question. Ooh this one’s fun! You’re stuck on a deserted island for a month and can have five things with you, what do you bring? And it says people don’t count,” Rachel thinks for a moment, “you go first because I need to give this some real thought.”

“No people, okay let’s see… my phone, one of those solar power generators so I could plug things in, phone charger, a book, and mini fridge. I’m sure I could cook some things up and be able to save them for later.”

Rachel nods in approval. “I am going to copy your first three things because I think I’d go crazy not being able to at least write out my thoughts in my notes app or something, or record what’s happening on my camera. But for my last two things, a guitar now that I can play, and… oh crap this is harder than I thought. And… a surfboard! If you’re stuck on an island that’s the perfect time to pick up a new hobby.”

“I think we’re finally getting the hang of this, of course right at the end. Oh I have the last question that’s right. Let’s see… what three characters from other shows or films do you think would do well in the Hunger Games?”

“I love that question!” Rachel nearly falls out of her chair. “Definitely someone from Game of Thrones — ooh or House of the Dragon! You know what, Juliette would do really good. A bow and arrow can take you really far in the games and that’s her go-to weapon.”

Tom smiles and blushes once again at the mention of his girlfriend, or at least the character she plays.

Rachel thinks about her last two answers. “Joel Miller from The Last of Us, and Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.”

“Why Spencer?”

“He’s a literal genius. I bet he’d be able to rig a bunch of traps that no one would suspect and he’d be able to eliminate most of the other tributes without any physical contact.”

“Ahh I didn’t think of that. Hmm also from House of the Dragon, Aemond Targaryen. He’s quite ruthless isn’t he, he’d have no problem getting rid of the other tributes. And also Clint Barton, like you said because a bow and arrow is a really good weapon to have. Also… Uhtred Ragnarsson from The Last Kingdom.”

Someone behind the camera says it’s time to wrap it up.

Tom smiles at the camera, “thank you so much for having us.”

“We hope you enjoyed watching, bye!”

TOM BLYTH x ACTRESS!READER TAGLIST —

@callsignwidow | @spencerstits | @coconut-dreamz | @daenerysqueenofhearts

[aventurineswife]

Hello again! I was wondering if you could make a pastry reader.

Which makes them mostly try their desserts until one day they are given a dessert inspired by them, for example; Aventurine = It would be a small vanilla cake with chocolate and blackberry and strawberry filling.

Just to give an example, with the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Childe and Kaeya (separated). Take your time!

-🩵

Inspired by You

Tags: Childe x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaeya x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Fluff, Lighthearted Romance, Lighthearted, Pastry Chef!Reader, Playful Banter, Hidden Vulnerabilities.

(Header credit)

It had started with a simple request.

"Just a little something to brighten the day!" Childe had said, leaning casually against the counter where you worked. He always had that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he knew something you didn’t. You had become used to his presence in the bakery, coming and going with his usual swagger, always asking for something new, something bold, something that would surprise him. Today was no different.

“Do you have anything... intense?" he asked, his smirk unwavering.

Intense? It was a word you could easily work with. You nodded and began to prepare the dessert—something wild and dangerous, much like Childe himself. You wanted to capture his essence in pastry form. The result: a dark chocolate torte filled with a rich, blackberry-strawberry compote and finished with a hint of vanilla bean cream. It was decadent, layered with complexity, and every bite burst with a different flavor, just like Childe’s unpredictable nature.

When you handed it to him, he raised an eyebrow. “This... this is for me?”

“You asked for something intense.” you replied with a playful grin.

He took a bite, and his face lit up with that familiar grin. “Not bad, pastry chef. It’s got layers... I like it. Bold, but sweet.” He paused, eyes glinting. “Just like me, huh?”

“Maybe," you said with a wink. "But you’ll have to try more of it to find out."

The sweet aroma of pastries filled the cozy bakery as you carefully arranged trays of desserts, each one crafted with precision. Aventurine, who had come in to visit you between meetings, watched with his usual amused smile, one hand resting on the counter. He loved tasting your creations, and you enjoyed surprising him with new flavors each time.

Today, however, you had prepared something truly special. "I have something just for you," you said, smiling as you set a small cake before him. The cake was adorned with a delicate chocolate glaze, and inside, layers of vanilla, blackberry, and strawberry hinted at a decadent surprise.

Aventurine raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Inspired by me, hmm? I didn't know I was worthy of such treatment," he teased, running a finger along the glaze before taking a careful bite.

The flavors unfolded slowly—smooth vanilla balanced with rich chocolate, and the tartness of blackberry and strawberry that left an unexpected zing. He paused, caught off guard by the mix of sweetness and slight bitterness, a taste that somehow mirrored the guarded depths he kept hidden.

"You’ve outdone yourself," he finally said, his smile softer, almost reflective. "Sweet, a touch bitter, and altogether surprising... I’d say you captured me quite well." He took another bite, savoring the thoughtfulness behind the cake as much as the flavor itself.

In that quiet moment, it felt like he was lowering his mask, just for you. And as you watched him, you realized that perhaps a simple dessert could reveal the hidden depths of someone you thought you knew so well.

(Header credit)

After weeks of watching Kaeya sample your treats with his usual charm, you finally set your sights on something special. You prepare a caramel tart with salted almonds, accented with a drizzle of dark chocolate—complex, balanced, and just a bit indulgent.

When you hand it to him, Kaeya raises a brow, a smirk playing at his lips. "You really do know how to get my attention, don’t you?" he murmurs, bringing it up to his lips for a small, thoughtful bite.

He lets out a pleased hum, clearly savoring it. "Ah, a perfect mix of sweetness and bite. I think you’ve outdone yourself this time," he says, his voice softer than usual. "Dare I ask what inspired this masterpiece?"

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Just something… layered, with a bit of a hidden edge. Thought it suited you."

He chuckles, leaning closer. "You’re quite the charmer," he says, his fingers brushing yours briefly. "Perhaps I’ll need to return the favor someday." His words carry a promise, and you wonder just how many layers there are to him, waiting to be revealed.

The bustling bakery quieted as Sampo strolled in with his usual carefree grin, tipping an imaginary hat in your direction. "Fancy seeing you here! You got anything for a tired traveler like me?" he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You smirked, setting down a treat that had been prepared with him in mind. "As a matter of fact, yes. Here’s something inspired by you." you said, revealing a tart topped with fresh mint leaves, chocolate shavings, and a dusting of powdered sugar. Inside, the tart held a mix of light cream and hints of citrus—a refreshing and vibrant combination that seemed fitting.

Sampo’s eyes lit up as he leaned in, sniffing appreciatively. "Inspired by me, you say? You sure know how to charm a guy." Without hesitation, he took a large bite, savoring the blend of rich cream and zesty citrus, the mint adding a touch of surprise. He let out a satisfied hum.

"This is fantastic," he declared with a wink. "Just the right amount of sweet and a hint of bite. But are you saying I'm a little... tart?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Well, you do have that sharpness beneath the charm."

Sampo laughed, a genuine sound that softened his usual sharp demeanor. He took another bite, glancing up at you with a rare, thoughtful expression. "Y’know, not many people go to this much trouble for me." He leaned in, lowering his voice with that signature smirk. "Better be careful, or you’ll make me feel... special."

You felt your cheeks warm as he took another bite, clearly enjoying every bit. And in that small exchange, it was as if the tart, like Sampo himself, had revealed something sweet beneath its complex layers.

[amora1tarada]

Notes: This is the first fanfiction that I had the courage to post! I’m super excited but also a little nervous. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, and I’d be grateful for any tips you have! I’m considering a part two with some smut, but I’m still building up my confidence in English to try it. Have a nice reading, and please don’t forget to repost, leave kudos and comments—your thoughts mean the world to me!

World count: 2k

nightwing/dick grayson

The sound of footsteps dragging across the hardwood floor was what broke the silence of your apartment, jarring you awake from a fitful sleep. The clock on your nightstand blinked red: 2:47 a.m. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You’d recognize his tread anywhere, the slightly uneven steps that meant he’d probably taken another beating tonight. A familiar knot of fear tightened in your chest, but a wave of relief washed over you as well. He was here. He was alive, at least for now.

With a sigh, you threw on the robe hanging by the bed, clutching it tightly around your body as you moved through the darkened hallway. You were so tired—exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could ever fix. It was a weariness that lived in your bones, a heaviness that came from watching someone you loved throw themselves into the jaws of danger night after night. You tried, every time, to tell yourself it wouldn’t happen again, that you’d close the window and let him figure it out on his own. But the truth was, you could never turn him away. Every time he stumbled through that window, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, you were there to catch him.

When you reached the kitchen, he was standing by the sink, his back to you, gulping down water like he’d been running for miles. His shoulders slumped in fatigue, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, and from the faint reflection in the window above the sink, you could see a small cut on his lip, a bruise darkening along his jaw. He looked… worn. He always looked a little worn, but tonight there was something different. The way he leaned against the counter, his hand gripping the edge so hard his knuckles had gone white, it was like he was trying to keep himself anchored to the ground.

“Hey, sweets,” he said, not even turning around. His voice was rough, more from exhaustion than pain, but you could hear the tension in it. “Sorry for waking you.”

You took a shaky breath, closing the distance between you and him. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but the words felt hollow. How many times had you said this? How many nights had he apologized, and how many times had you brushed it off like it didn’t matter?

In truth, it did matter. Every time he came to you like this, a little more of your heart chipped away. Every bruise, every scar—it was like you were carrying them too, bearing his pain in silence. There were so many times you wanted to scream at him to stop, to beg him to leave this life behind. But you knew he never would.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded. He finished his water, setting the glass down on the counter with a dull thud. You could feel the question hanging in the air, the one you always asked even though you knew the answer would be the same.

“What happened?” you asked softly, stepping closer, your hand brushing lightly against his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s nothing. Just… a long night,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. But you knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just that. He leaned into your touch for a moment, letting out a long, shuddering breath, and then you felt his body sag, as if all the weight he’d been carrying suddenly became too much.

He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw the rawness in his eyes. There was guilt there, a deep, gnawing pain that he was trying so hard to hide, but it was spilling over, cracking the mask he always wore. He reached up, his hand trembling slightly as he touched your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “A woman got shot tonight,” he said finally, the words falling heavily into the quiet. “She… she was just an innocent bystander. If I had been faster, more careful… maybe…”

“Dick,” you murmured, placing your hand over his, trying to still his shaking fingers. “It’s not your fault.” You spoke the words gently, firmly, hoping he would believe you, though you knew he wouldn’t.

But he just shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “It feels like it is. Every time someone gets hurt, I… I can’t shake the feeling that I should have been better. Done more.”

You took a deep breath, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he didn’t have to carry the world on his shoulders. But you knew he wouldn’t listen. His mission, his need to protect Gotham, was woven so deeply into his soul that nothing you said would change it.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He stiffened at first, but then he melted against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath, warm and uneven against your skin, and his grip tightened, like he was afraid that if he let go, he would fall apart.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, the words barely audible. You could feel the exhaustion in him, the weight of every battle he’d fought, every person he hadn’t been able to save. And for a moment, you wondered if he would finally break, if he would finally let you in, let you carry some of that burden with him.

But then he pulled back, his expression shuttered once again, and you knew that he wouldn’t. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Still, you took his hand, leading him toward the bathroom. He followed silently, and you could feel the tension radiating off him, the heaviness of everything he couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much it hurt you to see him like this, how every bruise and scar he bore felt like one etched into your own skin. But instead, you just filled the bathtub with warm water, your fingers brushing against his as you gently helped him undress.

As he sank into the tub, you knelt beside him, reaching for the shampoo. Your hands moved carefully, massaging the lather into his hair, washing away the dirt and blood from his night. His eyes drifted shut, his body slowly relaxing under your touch, and you could see some of the tension melting away. Here, in this quiet, dimly lit bathroom, it was almost like everything was normal. Like he was just a man, and you were just the woman who loved him.

You could feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, though you tried to hold them back. Watching him like this, so vulnerable, broke something in you. You wanted so desperately for him to stop, to give up this life and just… live. With you. But that was a dream, one that would never come true.

When you were done, you helped him out of the tub, drying him off with slow, careful strokes, your hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You dressed him in fresh clothes, guiding him to the bed, and he didn’t resist as you brushed through his hair, letting your fingers trail gently against his scalp.

“It’s enough, sweets,” he murmured, his voice soft and thick with sleep. “Can we just… go to bed now?"

You hesitated, looking down at him. You wanted to tell him everything you felt, all the fear and pain that you kept bottled up inside. But he looked so tired, so worn down, and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to his burden. So you just nodded, slipping under the covers beside him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his face buried in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you pressed your face against his chest, hiding it from him. “It’s fine, Dick,” you whispered. “I’d do it all again.”

The silence filled the room and it was almost sacred, a rare moment of peace in a life filled with chaos. He was holding you close, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away, vanish into the dark. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and grounding beneath your hand on his chest, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this was your life—that he wasn’t Nightwing, that he was just Dick, and that he was yours.

A sliver of moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a pale glow across his face. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks, and you let yourself study him, unguarded and still. Every line of his face was familiar to you, etched into your memory from a thousand stolen glances. But there was something fragile about him tonight, something that made you want to reach out, to hold him a little tighter, as if you could shield him from the life he’d chosen.

He must have sensed your gaze, because his eyes fluttered open, soft and filled with an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. For a long moment, he just looked at you, as if he was searching for something, some answer hidden in your face. And you held his gaze, your own heart pounding as the weight of all your unsaid words settled between you, heavy and unbreakable.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raised a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. “I don’t… deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, covering his hand with yours, feeling the roughness of his calloused fingers beneath your touch. “Don’t say that,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “It’s not you who decides.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, to turn away from you ignoring your feelings. But you saw the vulnerability so clearly in his eyes in a way you’d only seen glimpses of before. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and your breath caught as his forehead rested against yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why do you keep doing this, night after night? Why do you keep letting me in?”

You swallowed hard, should you tell him you love him? That you had always loved him and always will? That you just couldn’t leave? No matter how hard you tried? The words were almost spilling from your lips, But you couldn’t bring yourself to say them out loud. “I don’t know, I just care so much about you, that it hurts. I can't seem to let you go.”

A shuddering breath escaped him, and he closed his eyes, his face a mix of pain and guilt. “I’m just so sorry for everything I put you through. I…I thought you hated me at this point.” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles at the base of your neck. “For dragging you into this shit. I’m sorry, I really am.”

You shook your head, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. “I could never hate you. I just… I wish you didn’t have to carry this alone. I wish… you could let me in.”

His eyes opened, locking onto yours, and in the soft glow of the moonlight, you could see everything he’d kept hidden—the fear, the longing, and now there was a new feeling that you couldn’t quite decypher what it was.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest, most delicate kiss, as if he was afraid that if he pressed too hard, you’d disappear. It was a kiss filled with hesitation, with years of longing and fear, with all the words he’d never found the courage to say. And as his lips moved against yours, slow and tender, you felt your heart shatter and mend all at once, as if this was the moment you’d been waiting for, the moment you’d always known would come but never truly believed.

You kissed him back, your hand moving to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the faint scrape of stubble against your palm. It was soft, unhurried, a gentle exploration that spoke of all the times you’d imagined this, the way his lips would feel against yours, the way his breath would mingle with yours. And in that kiss, you poured everything—all the nights you’d spent worrying, the tears you’d shed for him, the love that had grown quietly in the depths of your heart, waiting for this very moment.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your back, grounding you, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of peace in his expression.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Just… stay with me, like this. Please.”

You nodded, your hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “Always,” you whispered, and you knew, deep down, that it was a promise you would keep, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and battered. Because this was where you belonged—right here, by his side, in the quiet hours of the night, holding him together even as he held you.

As he pulled you back into his arms, his lips found yours again, a little more certain this time, a little less hesitant. And under the soft glow of the moonlight, in the silence of your shared space, you kissed him like you’d always dreamed, like he was the air you needed to breathe, like he was the very heartbeat of your soul. Because, in a way, he was. He always had been.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, a gentle exploration of everything you’d both kept hidden. His hands moved up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as if he was committing every detail to memory. And in that kiss, you felt years of pain and fear melting away, replaced by something softer, something that felt like hope.

When you finally broke apart, he held you close, his head resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet. Neither of you spoke, because words felt unnecessary. Everything you needed to say had been shared in that kiss, in the way his hands held you, in the way his eyes met yours with a vulnerability he’d never let anyone else see.

And as you lay together in the quiet, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, you knew that this was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d been fighting for. In that moment, you knew that you would always stay with him, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you wished he would stop, you knew you would always be there for him. Because even though he was breaking you, piece by piece, you loved him. You loved him more than you loved your own heart, and you knew you would stay by his side, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and bleeding.

Because that was what love was, wasn’t it? Holding on, even when everything in you wanted to let go.

[mythboundcal]

Practice Proposal Haikyuu!! Fanfic by MythboundCal

It starts as a joke. Like most dangerous things do.

They're closing up after practice—lights off, gym bags slung, the sky outside going that soft sherbet color it gets when it’s about to apologize for being a long day.

“You ever think we should just get married?” Suga asks, unceremonious.

Daichi doesn’t look up from locking the supply closet. “To each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure,” Daichi says. “Why not?”

It’s tossed like a volleyball—casual, with spin. And Suga—true to form—bumps it right back.

“We’d be disgustingly functional,” he says. “I’d do the budgeting, you’d handle the furniture assembly. We’d fight about curtain rods and end it with snacks.”

Daichi chuckles. “You’d forget anniversaries.”

“I’d write them on your palm before bed. You’d wake up furious but oddly touched.”

“Sounds about right.”

The door clicks shut. The gym hums with quiet.

They walk.

It should end there. But Suga keeps talking. Too calmly.

“I bet I’d cry during the vows,” he says.

“You definitely would,” Daichi replies. “You’d blame allergies and wipe your nose on the sleeve of a blazer you borrowed and never returned.”

Suga laughs, but his steps slow. “You’d hold my hands too tightly.”

“You always fidget.”

“And you’d kiss me like we’re in a sports anime.”

Daichi stops walking.

Because suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

And Suga—sugar-knife smile, honey-voice danger—turns slightly and says, “It was supposed to be a joke.”

Daichi swallows. “Until it wasn’t.”

Suga nods. Just once. Like he’s accepting a challenge he issued five years ago.

Then he breaks into a grin and throws his gym bag at Daichi’s chest.

“Okay,” he says, turning back toward the sunset. “Proposal accepted. But you’re telling Coach.”

Daichi stares at him—backlit by the ridiculous sky, already walking ahead like he hasn’t just changed everything.

And Daichi smiles.

Because of course he would.

—

A/N: The “practice proposal” joke is a trope in Japanese media and fandoms—a lighthearted way to explore deeper feelings under the guise of play.

And because Daichi and Sugawara are so used to being functional, capable, and responsible… it’s delicious to watch them stumble over something as chaotic as love.

[haikyuubby]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ; h. shinso

“and i just want to know if you’re in love yet, girl.”

❀ , ✭ - fluff, some suggestiveness, female reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍: 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧…

it was 11 at night, and i couldn’t sleep.

due to my immense fear of failure, ways that i could better myself and my combat skills distracted my mind, making it insanely hard to go to sleep.

training got canceled, due to weather.

it was raining heavily, we were on a flood watch so classes also ended early today.

this meant that i’d have to do something relevant to training, or else my brain wouldn’t shut off.

what better way to do that than to sneak out and train? at almost midnight…

i get dressed, putting on some workout clothes, accepting the fact that i’m gonna get drenched by the rain no matter what i wear.

as i carefully tiptoe out of my dorm room, i notice a tall figure standing in the common room.

if i was a little bit more delirious and tired, i would’ve thought that it was the hat man.

after i step closer to the figure, i soon realize that it’s just shinso.

“shinso? what are you doing up at this time?”

“it’s early for me, i was just…”

“…just what?”

“just thinkin’. where are you heading to?”

a part of me wanted to ask him to come join me, but i didn’t wanna seem…weird?

would it be odd of me to ask him to come train with me at such an odd time of night? would he appreciate it?

“looks like you’re about to go workout? orrrr are you training?” he interrupts my train of thought.

“yeah, i am gonna go train a bit. how’d you know?” i say in a joking tone.

“well, i figured that you’d find some way to get work put in today, you never take a break.” shinso says with a lighthearted laugh.

shinso and i were extremely close, we have been friends for about a year now, and i’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since we first met.

i heard about his quirk from other people, and that’s what piqued my interest in him.

after watching shinso’s performance against izuku midoriya at the sports festival, i’ve had an interest in him ever since.

sometimes, it irritated me that he knew me so well.

“yeah, i guess you’re right. if you want, you can come with.” i offer.

“yeah sure, let me go get changed real quick.”

shinso comes back after 2 minutes, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.

we make our way outside, and to a nearby place we could train at.

we made sure to stay on high alert due to our surroundings— you never know when another villain attack might happen or when a teacher decides to stroll outside during this time of night…

shinso and i went to a forest, figuring that a forest would be a great place to hide from teachers if we got caught outside.

our plan was to just do basic hand-to-hand combat, not wanting to draw any attention to either of us by using our quirks.

the goal here was for one of us to immobilize the other; whoever does that wins.

i lunge at shinso, trying to grab his arm to bring him down to the ground.

to my luck, he catches my hand, causing me to lose my balance and jump back away from him.

“i know you’ve been working pretty hard, y/n, so come at me with all you got.” shinso says.

“i will.”

internally, i was screaming at this.

i love the way that shinso motivates me, his words are always so powerful and thoughtful.

after about 40 minutes of landing hits on one another, we come to a stopping point.

or so i thought.

shinso darts towards me, using one of his legs to sweep my foot from underneath me.

i take a fall right on my ass, my head hitting the grass immediately.

thankfully, the part of the forest that we were in didn’t get hit by the rain surprisingly, and it wasn’t raining right now.

as i’m taking in what just happened, i see shinso get on top of me.

i realize that he’s about to win, he could just pin me to the ground now and this’ll all be over.

i see his wrists coming down to grab mine, and i fight to get him off of me.

shinso’s body weight was no match for me, teenage boys are just too heavy.

his force brings my wrists down to the ground, immobilizing me.

as i realize the position that we’re in, my face warms up.

“i thought you were gonna come at me with all you got, y/n? what happened?”

at this point, i’m feeling extremely flustered, both from embarrassment and our position at the moment.

shinso’s grips on my wrist tighten— not enough to hurt me but enough to where i can’t move at the moment.

“fine…you win…” i say, turning my head away from him.

shinso’s eyes follow my head movements, forcing me to gaze into his eyes.

this felt…oddly intimate?

sure, we’ve had some romantic moments together, but nothing like this.

neither of us have came forward about our crush on one another just yet, but tonight might be the night.

“y/n, i like you, like really like you. you’re more than a friend to me, even if i haven’t said those things to you before, that’s how i feel.” shinso admits.

the close proximity is driving me insane, the way that he looked whilst being on top of me was amazing.

“i…feel the same way, shinso.” i respond, pushing my body up closer to his.

i can now feel his breath directly on my face, his lips are so close to mine that even the slightest movement would cause us to kiss right now.

“you drive me insane, y/n. it’s taking everything in me to not kiss you right—“

“do it.”

shinso looks surprised as i cut him off.

was he really expecting me to tell him to not kiss me?

he leans down ever so slightly, and brings his lips towards mine.

i have been dreaming about this for a while now, and it was everything i imagined it to be.

his tongue licks my lips, wanting to dive deeper into my mouth.

i wrap my legs around his lower body, wanting to feel every bit of him.

shinso smiles against my mouth at this moment, removing his hands from my wrist to feel up on my body.

shinso had one hand on my face, and one in the curve of my waist.

he starts to shove his tongue deeper into my mouth, i can tell that he’s getting really into this.

my hand makes it’s way into his hair, pushing his head down closer to mine, making his tongue move even farther down my mouth.

i moan at the feeling, it’s overwhelming but in the best way possible.

shinso then starts to move his hips against me slightly, letting me feel every part of his body at this given moment.

needing air, i pull away from our kiss.

before i say anything, shinso starts.

“i’m sorry, maybe i got a bit carried away there…you just have a crazy effect on me.” he says, getting off of me and helping me up from the ground.

“no, it’s okay. trust me i would’ve did more, but you have more self control than me…” i admit, saying that last part quietly.

“it’s okay!” he laughs, “we should get back soon, it’s already been an hour.”

i nod in agreement, starting to walk back towards the dorms.

“so does this mean that we’re dating now? orrr…” i say, anxiously expecting an answer.

“yes, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked before we kissed…will you be my girlfriend?” shinso asks while grabbing my hand.

i squeeze my hand in his, happily agreeing to be his girlfriend.

as we get closer to the dorms, i can only pray that no teachers are out during this time.