#they just banter so well with one another

[jjslvt]

UNDERWATER KISS ── .✦ tooth-rotting fluff .ᐟ.ᐟ

[bsf!jj maybank x fem!reader]

notes: i really wanted to post this for valentine’s day but couldn’t wait (also the pic, not mine & i prefer using screenshots of the show & making icons but that kinda looks like him so it goes lol)

imagine being best friends with the pogues and jj maybank being the one you were the closest with. you all had known each other for years and were almost like a family.

well, except you and jj?

the pogues knew that both you and jj had been pining after each other for a while. the two of you being oblivious to the other’s feelings, despite how damn touchy & clingy y’all are. the rest of them were just waiting for something to happen.

one random sunny day; the pogues were picking you up on the boat and jj instantly greeted you like a puppy who waited for his owner. he softened up more because of you, you were his exception to letting walls down — his happiness. the others knew that their best friend had met his damn soulmate because you helped bring these sides out.

on the boat, he’d sit right next to you — latch himself to your side, putting an arm around your shoulder and you didn’t mind. because he was also your comfort person, it had all just fell into place naturally and you both relaxed. the other pogues would share knowing looks at how you two were practically glued to the hip, giving secret smiles. they all wondered when you two would finally realize the true meaning of that profound bond.

jj knew he liked you, a lot. maybe even more than just like. you’re his person, he feels that. for once, he was very aware of his feelings and had processed them — trying to keep them secret but it was hard for the boy. especially with how he couldn’t stop himself from attaching to you, physically needing to be near you. he just hadn’t figured out if it was mutual but today in particular, he felt like he was struggling to contain it fully.

at one point, he pulled you onto his lap so you could lean on his chest. his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder. you had started flushing a tiny bit to which he couldn’t see but the rest of the crew did and snickered to themselves.

but as time went on, you all talked and joked around, enjoying the time together and feeling so free in this moment. it was the perfect chill day, despite you and jj feeling your hearts race because you two stayed in that position.

he was feeling ready to burst, to push the boundaries a bit more plus it wouldn’t be jj if he wasn’t teasing you somewhat. that was still in his true nature (and you loved it). so he started tickling your sides a bit, bantering with you at times. then he really surprised you by blowing a puff of air right into your ear which made you squirm and shift in his lap. he got a kick out of that.

though he couldn’t deny his heart skipped a beat at your reaction, wondering if maybe… he had a chance.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he chuckled, his tone teasing and smug as he whispered in your ear, only making you more sensitive.

“n-nothing, you brat.” you had huffed out, trying to regain yourself as you felt hot and a flutter of butterflies parade in your tummy. though you grimaced slightly at the way you stuttered and he started smirking to himself.

still pressed behind you, he decided to keep his lips near your ear as he blew another round of air into that ear.

“j- jj!!!” you whisper-shouted at him as a pleasant shiver went down your spine from the action and this time, he let out a delightful bark of laughter.

the others quietly stopped whatever they were doing to pay attention to the both of you, john b grinning slowly and thinking… ‘about damn time he starts doing something about his feelings.’

john b couldn’t help but add onto it, to push you out a little more and give jj more egging on to continue, “y/n, why is your face so red?”

you snapped your gaze in his direction for outing you like that, sending him a glare while sarah and kiara started giggling quietly.

pope chimed in, “damn, he’s right… interesting shade of red there.”

meanwhile jj’s hold on you suddenly got tighter when he heard his friends. his laughter dying down as he moved his head over your shoulder, turning fully to the side to get a look of that flush himself, feeling all too joyous.

“awe, princess is blushing? why’s that?” he murmured with the same playful tone but there was something tender in there too. he felt hopeful. which all went over your head as you were still somewhat embarrassed.

“oh my god, you’re all annoying!” you practically whined & pouted, trying to squirm out of his grasp now as you refused to turn your face near his (since you thought your heart would explode at the proximity).

the pogues laughed but jj kept his lock on you, unable to stop the urge to go further — feeling the swell of confidence. his lips grazing your ear as that turned red too, “calm down, baby. don’t get upset. do i gotta tickle you again?”

his ‘baby’ sounded a bit different this time and suddenly you found yourself wondering if he wasn’t just fooling around but before any more thoughts or reactions could come out of you, he DID start tickling again. right after he nipped your ear just a tiny bit, making your eyes widen.

your brain was a mess of short-circuits as his fingers tickled your sides so hard. you started thrashing against him — laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe, tears had formed and the others died too.

“j- jay… s-st— HAHA, sto- STOP!” you barely choked out the words between laughs and minor frustrations. as he heard your state, his relentlessness finally slowed and started taking a pause to let you recover but your frustration was rushing through.

many types of frustrations.

you quickly separated from him and stood up, trying to catch your breath and he followed (of course), standing up with you as you turned around to face him.

‘goddamn… you don’t know how fucking beautiful you are…’ jj thought to himself.

staring back with a tilted head; his eyes going dreamily half-lidded as he felt the air leave his lungs. he liked that you looked riled up — that crimson color painted on your face like art, the way your hair had gotten a bit messy, your lips parted to let out breaths. just everything about you… he thought was more than stunning.

he couldn’t help but give a soft smirk (your final straw). that’s when YOU took on a spontaneous turn, surprising him as you lunged towards him — throwing you both off the boat and right into the water.

not that he minded, he loved how you could surprise him at times though the others instantly lifted up — trying to look over and find you two, “woah!!”

once your bodies hit the water, you two had dove quite a bit from the impact… your brain was replaying that smirk. and remembering the way he had held you, the air blows and that damn nip on your ear. you couldn’t take it anymore.

you quickly grabbed his face as you two stayed under the water. you crashed your lips against his — he felt like he was dreaming, he couldn’t believe it was happening but it didn’t take many seconds for him to wrap his hands around your waist, pull you closer and kiss you with an equal passion. all the pent up desires and affections the two of you had felt for each other had erupted in the kiss.

it felt like time itself had slowed down… nothing was heard under the bliss of the waterscape and luckily, it wasn’t cold. instead it felt like you two were frozen in a perfect moment. just you and jj, nobody else around — except the cute little fish floating by. the scene looking ethereal as your hair flowed, like a mermaid. your hands dropped from his cheeks to wrap around his neck while he kept holding you. his body molding to yours and his lips moving eagerly against your lips, savoring how soft yours felt against his.

it was a wet but warm and extremely loving kiss, your first kiss together.

but you two couldn’t stay lip-locked down there. unfortunately, you weren’t a mermaid and merman so once you both needed air, you pulled apart and surfaced up, panting loudly. the others were still hanging over the edge of the boat with shit-eating grins, especially with how jubilant jj looked. it showed very clearly on his facial expressions that the boy just experienced the best thing in the world.

you looked up at them, floating in the water as you caught your breath while jj kept his eyes on you.

kiara spoke with amusement, “you two were down there for a mighty long time.”

john b agreed, “mhm… were you two maybe… oh, i don’t know, smooching?”

you playfully rolled your eyes though your blush returned again.

jj was about to reply with a loud, “ye-”

but you cut him off, a small silly tone, “pssh noo… not at all.”

they shook their heads, still excited and jj’s brows rose up as he heard your cheeky tone. he swam closer, getting right up in your space. his hands under the water grabbing your hips, “no?” he asked you, amused.

you bit your lip, his eyes catching it and feeling another flare of desire rise up within him.

“nope!” you continued your act and he scoffed out a short chuckle.

he spoke loudly for the others to hear, “really? cos i recall a certain princess smashin’ her lips onto mine.” his accent growing a bit stronger.

the others let out whistles, waiting for your reply.

“must have met a mermaid down there, jay.”

“oh, i did… mermaid princess and i think, i gotta remind her what just happened.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, he did exactly what you did under the water. in front of all of them — he proudly captured your lips in a fierce, swift movement. smirking as he heard you gasp out against his mouth… taking the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and taste what he had desperately been wanting to for years; the sweetness that was you.

all that was heard were cheers from your friends and sarah yelling in the background, “FINALLY!”

[chrissssssmut]

TRAPPED IN HER WORLD

Giselle x Male Reader feat. Ryujin

You never wanted to be here.

Clubs weren’t your thing.

Loud music. Sweaty bodies. Flashing lights.

It was a nightmare for an introvert like you.

But your so-called friends had dragged you along.

“Come on, Y/N, you never go out!”

“You need to live a little, man.”

So here you were.

Sitting alone at a booth while they disappeared into the crowd.

You checked your phone. 1:43 AM.

Just a couple more minutes. Then you could fake a stomachache and get the hell out of here.

That was the plan.

Until she appeared.

She slid into the seat across from you like she belonged there.

Long dark hair. Red lips. A Black Sexy Dress that somehow made her presence even bolder.

She smirked.

“You look like you’d rather die than be here.”

You blinked.

She chuckled. “Did I guess right?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“Well, lucky you. I like guys who don’t belong.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“What’s your name?”

“…Y/N.”

She grinned.

“I’m Giselle.”

And that was the moment your life changed forever.

Minutes turned into hours.

Talking with her was easy.

She didn’t ask pointless questions. She didn’t try to fix your introversion.

She just… understood.

And then—

“Let me get you a drink,” she said, standing up.

Before you could respond, another girl appeared.

Shorter. Sharp eyes. Dark blue hair.

“This is my friend, Ryujin,” Giselle introduced.

Ryujin smirked, sliding a glass in front of you.

“On the house.”

You hesitated.

Something felt off.

Giselle tilted her head. “What, scared I spiked it?”

You forced a chuckle. “Of course not.”

You drank.

And then—

The world tilted.

Your vision blurred.

Your heart slowed.

You looked up at them—

Giselle’s lips curled.

Ryujin whispered, “Nighty night.”

And then—

Darkness.

You woke up in a strange bed.

Cold. Expensive sheets. A faint smell of perfume and metal.

Your wrists were tied.

Panic surged.

The room was too quiet.

Then—

A door creaked open.

Giselle walked in.

She was different now.

No teasing smiles. No playful banter.

Just pure control.

She sat on the edge of the bed, running a knife along the mattress.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Your breathing hitched.

“What the hell is this?!”

She sighed. “See, Y/N… I really liked you.”

The knife pressed into the sheets.

“But I don’t waste my time on normal guys.”

She leaned in.

“And you? You’re mine now.”

You fought.

Screamed.

Begged.

Nothing worked.

The windows? Bulletproof.

The door? Locked from the outside.

Your phone? Gone.

And Giselle?

She was everywhere.

Watching. Controlling. Owning.

One night, she sat across from you at dinner.

“I should probably tell you what I do,” she mused.

You didn’t answer.

She smirked.

“I sell things.”

She swirled her wine glass.

“Drugs. Weapons. Sometimes… people.”

Your stomach dropped.

She tilted her head.

“But don’t worry.”

Her fingers brushed your jaw.

“You’re too pretty to sell.”

You shuddered.

.

.

.

.

You waited for the right moment.

The second Giselle left the room—

You ran.

Through the hallway. Down the stairs.

To the front door.

It was unlocked.

Your heart pounded. Was she careless?

You shoved the door open—

And froze.

Because outside?

Nothing.

Not a street. Not a sidewalk.

Just endless forest.

A voice whispered behind you.

“Where are you going, baby?”

You turned.

Giselle.

Smirking. Holding a gun.

Your legs gave out.

She crouched in front of you, pressing the barrel under your chin.

“You really thought I’d let you leave?”

You whimpered.

She smiled.

And whispered the words that sealed your fate.

“There is no escape, Y/N.”

“You belong to me.”

Days blurred into weeks.

You stopped fighting.

Stopped thinking.

Giselle made sure of that.

She controlled your food. Your sleep. Your sanity.

And one night—

She cupped your face.

“You finally understand, don’t you?”

Your lips trembled.

She kissed you. Soft. Slow. Poisonous.

And when she pulled away, she whispered—

“Say it.”

Your voice shook.

“I belong to you.”

Her smirk widened.

“Good boy.”

And as she pulled you into her arms—

You knew, deep down—

You would never leave.

Not because you couldn’t.

But because she wouldn’t let you.

Epilogue – The Final Escape

You had one last chance.

One last, desperate attempt at freedom.

You waited. Watched. Planned.

For months, you played along.

“Yes, Giselle.”

“I love you, Giselle.”

“I belong to you, Giselle.”

And slowly—she trusted you.

Until, one night, she left the door unlocked.

A mistake.

Or maybe… a test.

But you didn’t care.

You ran.

Through the halls. Down the stairs. Out the door.

And this time—

You didn’t stop.

The forest was endless.

Your lungs burned.

Your feet bled.

Branches clawed at your skin, but you didn’t stop.

The moon was your only light.

And for the first time in months—

You felt hope.

Then—

A gunshot.

BANG.

The sound ripped through the trees.

And a voice—

“Baby.”

Your blood ran cold.

Footsteps. Slow. Calculated. Hunting you.

You tried to run faster, but—

BANG.

Pain exploded through your leg.

You collapsed, gasping.

Dirt filled your mouth. Blood soaked your jeans.

And then—

She was there.

Standing over you.

Giselle.

Her silhouette sharp against the moonlight.

She crouched, pressing the barrel to your temple.

“I’m disappointed, Y/N.”

Tears burned your eyes.

“Please—”

She sighed, brushing your cheek.

“I gave you everything.”

You sobbed.

She tilted her head.

“Did you really think I’d ever let you leave?”

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

And the last thing you heard—

Was her whisper.

“Goodbye, love.”

BANG.

But—

You weren’t dead.

Your ears rang. Your body shook.

The pain in your leg burned, but—your head? Untouched.

You gasped, blinking through the blur of tears.

Giselle’s voice was gentle.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby.”

You barely processed it as she crouched beside you, her hands soft as they cupped your face.

“Did you really think I’d kill you?” she whispered, her tone almost… amused.

Your lips trembled.

“I—I heard the gun—”

She smiled.

And then—

She raised the gun to her own temple.

Click.

Empty.

Your stomach dropped.

She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear.

“I never load the last bullet.”

Your body froze.

She wasn’t planning to kill you.

She never was.

This wasn’t an execution.

This was a lesson.

Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

She yanked you forward—forcing your gaze to meet hers.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“No more running.”

You sobbed.

She smirked.

“That’s my good boy.”

And as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead—

You realized the truth.

She didn’t need to kill you.

Because she had already won.

[maeintree]

blushes and bruises | l. laufeyson

Summary: Loki never cared for Midgardian traditions—least of all Valentine’s Day. But when the God of Mischief finds himself enamored with the Avengers' beloved nurse, he begins to question everything he thought he knew about affection. Pairing: avengers!Loki x nurse!fem!Reader Word Count: 1.2k Author's Note: made a valentine's day fic! i know it's a little early and i literally just posted.. a few hours ago? and i love brotherly banter. what can i say? i love writing. hope you enjoy this one lovies!

Loki had never been one for sentimentality. He prided himself on being logical, composed, and above all, untouchable. Yet, when it came to you, he found himself unraveling in ways he could not comprehend.

It had started subtly—at least, that’s what he told himself.

A passing glance that lingered too long, an inexplicable urge to listen when you spoke, an unwillingness to look away when you laughed. That laugh—light, melodic, effortless—had a way of sneaking into the darkest corners of his mind, lingering long after you had left the room.

You were different from the others. There was no fear in your gaze when you looked at him, no wary glances or hushed whispers behind his back. Instead, you regarded him as if he were just another person, as if he hadn’t once tried to claim dominion over Midgard.

It was infuriating.

It was intoxicating.

He caught himself watching you far more often than he should, drawn to the warmth you exuded, to the way you moved through the Tower as if you belonged among gods and warriors alike. And perhaps, in some ways, you did.

The others adored you, their affections apparent in the way they sought you out for comfort, for care. Even Thor, his ever-boisterous brother, held you in high regard.

Thor had always been perceptive when it came to his brother, and lately, he had noticed something rather amusing. Loki, the ever-composed God of Mischief, had developed an irritatingly obvious habit—his gaze lingered on you more often than it should. Whether you were speaking, laughing, or merely passing by, Loki's eyes would track your every move, and Thor, being the loving older brother that he was, found endless entertainment in this revelation.

One afternoon, as the two brothers sat in the common room, Thor leaned closer to Loki with a knowing smirk. "Brother.. I do believe you have taken quite the liking to our dear healer."

Loki barely spared him a glance, feigning disinterest as he continued reading. "You are insufferable."

Thor chuckled, undeterred. "Admit it, Loki. You fancy her. I have seen the way you look at her."

Loki’s grip on his book tightened. "Ah, so this is what your royal tutor meant when he spoke of speaking fiction and succumbing to delusions.. you see nothing."

"That was only one time, and, ah, but I do! You, my dear brother, are smitten." Thor grinned, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You watch her like a lovesick pup. It is quite adorable, really."

Loki shot him a venomous glare. "If you value your teeth, I suggest you cease this ridiculous—"

At that moment, you entered the room, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place. You greeted them with a smile, a soft "Hello, Thor. Loki," before continuing down the hall.

The second Loki caught sight of you, his frustration boiled over. Without thinking, his fist swung—directly into Thor’s face.

"Oof!" Thor reeled back, clutching his mouth. "Brother! That was uncalled for!"

You turned at the commotion, eyes widening as you rushed over. "Thor, are you okay?"

Loki, ever the quick thinker, straightened and cleared his throat. "Yes, well… he was choking on a piece of food. I was simply assisting him."

Thor shot him a bewildered look. "I was not—"

Loki elbowed him sharply, offering you a smooth, collected nod. "See? Crisis averted."

You blinked at them before shaking your head with a small smile. "Alright, if you say so. Just try not to kill each other."

As you walked away, Loki crossed his arms smugly, while Thor glared at him, rubbing his jaw. "Oh, you are well and truly doomed."

Valentine’s Day in the Avengers Tower was always a spectacle. The team found ways to celebrate, whether through grand gestures or friendly banter, and this year was no exception. Heart-shaped decorations had mysteriously appeared in the common room, and Tony had been on a mission to outdo himself with extravagant gifts for everyone.

Loki, however, found himself feeling out of place amid all the festivities. Despite being allowed to roam freely within the Tower, he still felt like an outsider.

The concept of Valentine’s Day was foreign to him—another Midgardian tradition that seemed needlessly sentimental.

And yet, there was something about it that intrigued him. Or rather, someone.

You.

The team adored you, and for good reason. As a nurse who had been working with them for quite some time, you had a warmth and kindness that made even the most guarded of them feel at ease. Even Loki, with all his sharp wit and cold exterior, found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain.

He hadn’t meant to grow attached. He had fought it, convinced himself that it was nothing more than fleeting curiosity. But every time he found himself in your presence—whether it was a passing conversation in the infirmary, a fleeting glance across the room, or the way you always seemed to see right through him—it became harder to deny.

Which was why he was currently pacing in the hallway outside the infirmary, muttering to himself as he tried to form the right words.

Thor had told him—rather enthusiastically—that Valentine’s Day was a time for mortals to confess their affections. It was a day for lovers, for gestures of devotion, for warmth.

Loki scoffed at the notion, yet here he was, battling the unfamiliar weight of uncertainty in his chest.

When he finally gathered the courage, he stepped inside, clearing his throat to get your attention. You looked up from your work, a warm smile instantly gracing your lips.

“Loki,” you greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. He had practiced this. Rehearsed the words over and over again in his mind. And yet, standing before you, they seemed to abandon him entirely.

“I… I was informed that today is a day where… gestures of affection are exchanged.”

You raised an amused brow. “That’s one way to put it.”

He exhaled sharply. “Yes, well. I… was considering if, perhaps, you would…” He trailed off, frustration flashing across his face as he rubbed his temple. He loathed this. The vulnerability, the uncertainty, the way his pride and fear warred within him.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. The mighty Loki Odinson, reduced to fumbling over his words like a nervous schoolboy? It was endearing.

“Sure, Mr. Odinson,” you replied easily, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d love to.”

Loki’s gaze snapped to yours, as if he hadn’t expected such an easy answer. He searched your face for any sign of mockery, but all he found was genuine warmth. For a moment, he simply stared, his lips parting slightly before pressing them together again.

“…Right,” he finally said, straightening. “Well then.”

You shook your head fondly. “Come on, Prince of Mischief. I think you owe me a Valentine’s date.”

For the first time in a long while, Loki allowed himself to smile—a real one.

The date itself was surprisingly pleasant—dinner on the Tower’s balcony, candlelight flickering between you. Loki, despite his usual skepticism toward Midgardian customs, had gone through the effort of making the evening special. And just as the night seemed to settle into something warm and comfortable…

The Avengers walked in.

Or rather, Tony led the charge, with Steve and Natasha in tow. “Okay, tell me this isn’t borderline ‘back in the cell’ behavior?” Tony deadpanned, before Steve elbowed him.

“Let the man court in peace, Stark,” Thor grumbled.

Tony clapped Loki on the back. “I'm watching you, Edgelord Supreme.”

Loki groaned. You just laughed.

honestly really wanted to make him flustered out considering i have a headcannon where girls usually fawn over him and he takes it so he didn't really have to ask someone out, ehhh love soft!loki aha

likes, comments, and reposts are much appreciated! hope you enjoyeddd.

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. established...something. reader is a magic anthropologist and they're both in their thirties. this is full of cringe banter and innuendo i'm so sawryyyyyyy | wc 1.6k, reading time: 7 minutes.

“What are you doing here?”

You’ve been aware of Dante’s slow creep down the aisle of the largest archive of metaphysical knowledge this godforsaken place has to offer for some time. You finally call out to him across messy stacks of books.

Foolishly, you hoped he wouldn’t make a game out of this. He strides up to you confidently, clearly thrilled to finally have forced you to be the first to break. This is familiar territory for you and him both, where all of your “career” related activities are conducted and where he comes to find you when he’s looked everywhere else without a trace.

Leaning against the shelf, he folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side.

“I’m researching obviously.”

You look up from the shelf in front of you with a raised brow only to be met with a pair of familiar eyes trained directly at the curve of your chest and whatever peak of skin is pushed up over your neckline. 

“Yeah, researching how far you can look down my shirt from that grand height you stand at.”

Caught, the gunslinger’s eyes drift toward your face without an ounce of shame in them. 

“And what about it?”

Your stance shifts from flat footed to standing on your tiptoes, arm extended high above your head with your thumb and forefinger reaching toward the tip of his nose to flick it. As sharply reflexed as he has ever been, he dodges the attack and captures your hand in his, spreading your fingers and pressing the heel of your hand against his lips.

Allowing him a moment to sniff your wrist and shoot his best half lidded glance downward, you end it quickly by snatching your arm from his grasp and placing it down at your side. A flaming face that belongs to you turns back toward the shelves to hide your thrill at his public flirtation, insisting upon keeping things polite while you’re working billable hours.

“What do you need, Dante?”

He wishes he could press another kiss at the delicate bend of your wrist.

“A break. A drink. Lots and lots and lots of money. Right now though? Information.”

Sighing, he leans against the bookshelf and holds out his forearms for you to place the ever growing stack you’re working with upon. Wrinkling your nose, you look between him and the books and he holds out his arms and shakes his head leaving you optionless. 

“What about?” You stack a book and then another, looking up at him to find him already staring down at you. “God don’t look at me like that, just tell me what you want.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head.

“Well, you, of course.” 

It takes all of your strength not to turn and walk away if only to be left alone from his tormenting. You’re good at holding your own, especially against the gruff figures who come to you in search of knowledge of demonology or the magical arts you’ve so raptly committed your life to seeking and holding yet it’s different with Dante.

The two of you have been very good friends since the spring of your early twenties. You’ve, at the very least, slept together for almost that entire time too - entering your thirties in each other’s arms. Constantly picking each other’s brains, running from each other when things got rough and back toward each other when they’ve improved or the lonely nights wouldn’t abate on their own. He’s almost sort of a…companion despite your distaste for defining characteristics.

A boyfriend who lives a life too dangerous for attachment, his very clear one to you cast aside. A man you think about when you wake and sleep both, hoping he’ll visit your dreams on the off chance he isn’t by your side. 

Enough of that. You clear your throat to feign impatience and force him to answer.

“I need to borrow that brain and how good you are at figuring out where to find shit in here.”

Laughing, you raise both of your brows.

“It’s alphabetical. Did you forget your letters or what?”

He leans downward, a larger frame closing in and you sidestep him slightly, pretending preoccupation with the books on the portion of the shelf in front of you.

“I forget everything when you’re around.”

Scoffing, you yank a book off of the shelf. “Okay now you’re laying it on a little too thick.”

Looking around the library, you know it’s futile to refuse him. There hasn’t been a moment in the past ten years you’ve told him no in any meaningful way and surely you won’t start today.

“I’m working—” he raises his eyebrows and gasps at the words, feigning shock and you shake your head to dissuade him from continuing with his show. Working is all you’ve seemed to be doing these days, spending days and nights alike with books spread across the small expanse of your apartment leaving little time for extracurricular fun. “But I can make time to help out if you promise you’ll let me handle the research I’m being paid for first.”

“I could pay you too, y’know. My methods may be a little unconventional compared to whatever this mysterious patron is paying you with,” he raises a brow and you roll your eyes. “You’d be rewarded very, very well if you’d only put the books down for one night.”

The innuendo is dripping from his every word. If you knew less about how much he meant what he’s saying perhaps you could play it off better yet your cheeks flame. You know how his rough hands feel at the base of your spine and the dip of your waist, swearing you can feel them drag across you. 

“Oh by the way, what’s the name of that demon you needed me to research?”

Attempting to gain a little bit of control over yourself and the situation, you change the subject and pretend you can’t taste him as clear as day in your mouth, memories doing more than you need them to right now.

“It’s, uh, H…” he trails off, giving up the effort of continuing his tall tale. Another sigh, another beat passes and he furrows his brows. 

You always manage to expertly cut him down to size, a curse and a blessing all at the same time. 

“I’ve been trying to see you for weeks, honey.”

You shake your head. “Days. It has been days since the last time we saw each other and you spent the night despite saying you were leaving before I passed out.”

No chance of wiggling out of this one.

“In my defense, they’ve felt like weeks. Months.”

Shoulders sagging, you lean forward and press yourself against the bookshelf and a pitiful excuse for a frown, the upturned corners of your mouth you can’t seem to put down any time he’s around giving you away. “Sorry for neglecting you. Unfortunately, a girl’s gotta eat and pay rent.”

Of course, there’s no offer made to assist you with either of those things considering he has to work pretty hard for both of them himself. 

“And while we’re discussing it, you don’t have to pay me with that.” 

If you weren’t in public you’d say what you mean - fucking - but it’s easier to simply allude to the late nights spent taking out your mutual grief and frustration with physical release when company you don’t know may be lurking around. Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to the shelves and stack another book atop the rest. 

“In fact, if we both had more of it to spare, just spending time with you would be payment enough.”

If he’s taken aback he does his best to hide it, shifting slightly and covering his face partially by turning it in the direction of the darkened other end of the aisle. 

“See, all this time I thought you only liked me for my body,” he lets slip.

Softly giggling, you pause all other movement besides the rise and fall of your chest and the focus of your gaze upon the man beside you though his gaze remains averted.

“Nah, I hate to say it but I enjoy your company most of all.”

Now he’s drawn back, looking at you with a bit of doubt clouding those steel blue eyes to which you notice and shrug at. “We have the best conversations. You make me laugh; you never make me feel like it’s inconvenient to liste–”

Your words are swallowed by Dante’s mouth before you can get them out. Those quick reflexes worked to bring him close to you before you could even notice, soft lips pressed against a slightly drier, rougher pair. 

“Well when you put it that way,” he mutters against your lips. You laugh against his mouth, lips curving perfectly into his. 

It’s all almost too sweet to bear. Strangely boyfriend-y for a man you’re so apprehensive to refer to as such. 

A stranger breezes past the two of you in the aisle and pretends not to gawk. Despite the hairs standing up on the back of your neck, you let the natural scrap of shame you have remaining go the way everything else does when Dante’s around.

It disappears, evaporates. Leaves only the two of you behind. 

“You can stick around if you don’t have anything better to do,” you tell him, finally breaking away.

Groaning, he redistributes the weight of the books across his arms and stands up so he’s no longer slouching.

“Can’t we take them back to your place?”

Shaking your head, you rap your knuckles against the heaviest metal spine bound book at the bottom of the pile.

“Nope, the rules dictate that this one stays here and I need it the most.”

Smirking, he leans in closer to you. “Then we’ll just have to have some fun here.”

Tossing another book atop the now chin height stack he’s carrying, you shoot him a look that says everything he needs to know. The private booth in the back the two of you occupied the last time he decided to bother you at work is available today.

[allertonhoe]

A2 + A5 with rafe please, a bit of angst then fluff at the end !!! also congratulations on 500 !!

thank you!!! hope you enjoy ☺️☺️ really had fun writing this one!!!

prompts: "Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry" + "Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything"

content warnings: 18+ MDNI, original afab!reader, men being men/being gross about women,

500 follower celebration!

It was humiliating to say the least. You knew that being Rafe Cameron's girlfriend wasn't always the easiest task. There were expectations of you, one of them being that you had to accompany him to fancy Kook soirées. But tonight, you'd gotten pushed too far.

"Come on," he complained, banging against the locked guest room door. "Please just talk to me. I know I fucked up."

It hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, another obligatory appearance among Figure 8's upper echelon since he was now running Cameron Development. Hanging off Rafe's arm with a cordial smile as he faked his way through small talk with important clients and investors.

At one point, the two of you split off from each other. Being wrangled by one of the other trophy girlfriends to gossip over drinks and 'leave the men to their business,' whatever that meant—something you'd learn very soon. Eventually excusing yourself to the bathroom, you became distracted as you strolled past the billiards room and noticed it was buzzing in conversation.

"Is she that good, Cameron?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you only keep a girl like that around for one reason."

Your jaw dropped at the sexist declaration, especially when you knew there was a good chance this person had probably acted the complete opposite less towards you than an hour ago when Rafe was by your side. It's not that you were ignorant to that type of behavior in these settings, you'd just never heard it so explicitly. 

This was part of why you loved Rafe, though. He was headstrong and fiercely protective of the things that were important to him, which included you. He had a reputation for having a dangerously short fuse, a trait you were appreciative of in this moment. But that wasn't the response you heard at all.

"Seriously, dude? You should brag about your girl more. The stories I've heard-"

"Shut up, Topper."

"No, no. I mean it as, like, a good thing. Those two have the freakiest sex. The stories I've heard. Tell them about that thing she can do when she puts her legs over her-"

"Damn, Rafe. And you aren't sharing any of the dirty details with the rest of us? That's cold, man..."

"My girl's just amazing; what can I say?"

"Enjoy that while it lasts. I wish my wife was still eager and willing like that. Didn't talk back yet, just did whatever I told her because she wanted to keep me around. Made sure I was taken care of like your girl still does, if you know what I mean."

The group of businessmen laughed boisterously as they proceeded with their banter, while your supposed knight-in-shining-armour stood along with them. Actually clinking his glass with the man's who made that comment, not even attempting to clear your name.

Your mind raced as you helplessly watched the scene unfold in front of you. Usually the two of you were on the same page, but right now you could barely recognized your boyfriend. Why didn't he confront them at all? Was he embarrassed over you? 

Your clutch fell from your hand, making your presence known as it hit the ground. Not daring to shift your regard back to the room full of local moguls, their conversation stilling there. Rushing to pick it up and return to the group of naive women you were seemingly better off with, but hearing a familiar set of footsteps follow behind you.

At first, Rafe tried explaining himself a few times. So you stubbornly shut him out and did what you apparently did best—blindly follow his lead like a doting puppy. Getting knowing looks from the same snobby men he’d just been chatting with as he quickly decided it was time to make his exit, your rage not going unnoticed.

Your silence prevailed throughout the car ride home despite his continued attempts to apologize, not sparing him a glance as you stormed into the house and up to one of the guest bedrooms. Locking the door behind you as the disparaging remarks swirled through your brain.

"Baby, let me in," he reiterates desperately.

He kept pounding on the door and you kept ignoring him, not in any mood to spend the rest of the evening rehashing your unsettled conflict. Becoming startled when it suddenly stopped after a few minutes, the quiet only worrying you knowing your boyfriend's unpredictable temper.

And then, in his irrational fashion, the thick wood broke off its hinges like it was no big deal. Barreling into the formerly tranquil room, brushing a hand through his hair dramatically as he caught his breath. Feeling a little resentful that he decided to channel his frustration into that outrageous display instead of actually backing you up earlier. 

"Are you fucking serious?" You grill him, not hiding how unimpressed you were.

"What?" He counters, glancing at the wreckage and waving it off. "Don't worry about that."

You just rolled your eyes, diverting your attention from him as resentment crept back up on you. A tear rolling down your cheek as you remembered why you were in here, avoiding him, in the first place. Rafe kneeling down to bring himself to your level, his thumb wiping it off your skin. 

"Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry." He whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry. You know how the guys can be..."

"It's not that, Rafe. You didn't come to my defense at all when they were all objectifying me. I thought I meant more to you than that..." You detail with disappointment. "I'm just... I'm tired. It's been a long night. I'm gonna sleep in here, or one of the rooms that has a door attached."

"No, baby. Let me make it up to you," he contends further.

Not having any more energy to keep scolding him, you slipped under the covers and got as comfortable as you were able to without changing out of your cocktail dress or taking off your makeup. Feeling a dip at the bottom of the mattress, Rafe reaching out and caressing the shape of your silhouette.

"Yell, scream, say something..." he begs weakly, his voice breaking and barely a whisper as he finished his plea. "Anything..."

He crawled across the bed, lying behind you and placing his arms over your torso. Pulling you as close as he was able to with the comforter still separating your bodies. Shutting your eyes momentarily as you basked in the calm you'd been craving all night.

"I'm so sorry, baby... I should've told them to knock it off, but it's complicated with these guys. They're some of my dad's oldest clients. I can't just lose my shit on them, as much as I might want to." He justifies to you. "Please... I'll let you do whatever you want..."

As he waited for your answer, he moved your hair off the back of your neck and started pecking across the flesh. Pressing delicate, wanton kisses before stopping at your shoulder and resting his chin there, leaving one last chaste peck on your cheek. Trying your absolute best not to give in to his persuasive tactics. 

"Whatever I want?" you echo, catching his grin reappear as your discomfort faded.

"Anything," he coos, prompting you to turn over to face him properly.

"You're definitely gonna regret that," you threaten playfully. 

"Yeah?" he mutters, squeezing your waist possessively.

"Mhmm..." You hum, capturing his lips with yours. Rafe tangling his tongue with your own as he took over control and spent the rest of the evening helping you forget about the disastrous gala.

[ivyues]

Chasing Yesterday | 1 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The training rooms smelled of sweat, determination, and dreams that didn’t come easy. Chris always lingered a little longer than the others, his eyes fixed on the mirrors, wondering if his reflection would ever transform into someone worthy of debut. For years, it was the same – watching friends reach their dreams while he stayed behind, burdened by doubt.

There was also you. You weren’t just another trainee to Chris. Sure, you were a hard worker, someone who matched his relentless pace, but you were also his anchor. Late-night conversations about dreams, shared snacks in the practice room, and bursts of laughter after a particularly tough day made the grueling years bearable. He never told you about the way his heart would race when you smiled at him or how your encouragement after his failures felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He kept that silly little teenage crush away, afraid to ruin what you two had.

But around the time Han joined the company, you decided to leave. The dream of becoming a K-pop idol didn’t burn as brightly for you anymore, and while Chris understood, he hated losing yet another close ally. One day, you were practicing next to him and the next day, you were just… gone.

The years passed. Stray Kids debuted, and Chris threw himself into his work, becoming the leader his members needed him to be. Life moved on, but every now and then, in quiet moments, he’d wonder what you were doing. 

It wasn’t until one day, years later, when he was catching up with Sana that your name came up.

“You remember Y/N?” Sana asked casually over coffee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course, I remember her,” Chris said with a small smile. “It’s been years, though. I haven’t talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

Sana grinned. “Funny you should say that. I got her number recently. Want it?”

Chris blinked, startled. “Her number?”

“Yep,” Sana said, sliding her phone toward him. “Go on. Text her. She’d probably love to hear from you.”

That night, Chris sat on his bed, your number staring back at him from his phone screen. He hesitated, typing and deleting messages, his nerves getting the better of him. Days passed before he finally worked up the courage to text you.

“Hey, this is Chris. Sana gave me your number. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chan hit send and immediately regretted it. What if you didn’t reply? What if you didn’t want to talk to him at all? He set his phone down, trying to distract himself, but every buzz made his stomach flip.

A few hours later, his phone lit up.

“Chris as in Christopher Bang Chan?”

He smiled, relief washing over him as he quickly typed back. “Yeah, it’s me. This is Y/N, right?”

Your reply came almost instantly: “Yeah. It’s been ages! I can’t believe you’re texting me!”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before replying, “I’ve missed you. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a brief pause before your next message arrived: “I am, thanks. You too. I’m proud of you. I’ve watched your MVs – You’ve come so far.”

The thought of you keeping up with his career sent a rush of warmth through him. He stared at your message for a moment, rereading it before typing back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You know that, right?”

Your reply came with a teasing tone that made him laugh out loud. “Once you’re famous and living the idol life, you forget to text old friends, huh? 😜”

“Hey, I’m here now!” he shot back.

And just like that, the ice was broken. Over the next few days, your texts became constant – snippets of your lives, fond memories of the trainee days, and playful banter. It felt like no time had passed, and yet, in some ways, everything had changed.

One day, Han caught Chris grinning at his phone in the corner of the dorm. It was rare to see their leader so visibly relaxed, much less smiling to himself. Intrigued, Han leaned in, nearly giving Chris a heart attack.

“Hyung, who’s got you giggling like that? Is it someone I know?”

Chris scrambled to lock his phone. “It’s nothing, it’s just...an old friend. Do you remember Y/N from when we were trainees?”

Hearing him say your name, Han’s curiosity only grew. “Not really, but you were pretty close right? Hyung, why are you just texting? You should meet her. It’s been years, right? I bet she’d love to catch up.”

Chris hesitated. Meeting you in person? That thought felt heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hyung.” Han’s tone softened, sensing his hesitation. “You’ve told me stories about her. She meant a lot to you back then, right? What’s stopping you?”

It was a question Chris couldn’t easily answer, but it nudged him to act. A few days later, after much internal debate, he texted you.

“How about coffee this weekend? There’s this café I like. We could catch up properly.”

Your response was quick and enthusiastic: “I’d love that! Let me know the place and time.”

-----

The café was warm and inviting, its earthy tones and gentle lighting creating a cozy ambiance. Chris arrived first, nervously fiddling with his phone as he waited. He hadn’t seen you in years, and the thought of reconnecting stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would he recognize you? Would it feel the same as it did back then?

When the bell above the door chimed, Chan looked up, and there you were. You hadn’t changed much, and yet, you looked so different. The teenage girl he remembered had matured into someone who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Your smile was the same, though, lighting up your face as you spotted him.

“Chris,” you greeted, and the sound of his name in your voice felt like a time machine.

He stood, unsure whether to hug you or shake your hand, but you made the decision for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “You haven’t changed.”

Chris chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “You have – in a good way. You look… happy.”

The two of you ordered drinks and found a quiet corner. The conversation started easy – catching up on the basics, sharing stories from your lives since those trainee days. But as the initial excitement settled, the mood grew more reflective.

“Do you regret it?” Chris asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but his gaze was intense, searching your expression for any flicker of doubt. “Leaving the company, I mean. Giving up on… that dream.”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering his question. “No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it, Chris. After I quit I realized that I was chasing something that wasn’t really mine to chase. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, or maybe to others.”

You paused, hesitating before continuing. “I realized after I left that the dream I really wanted… it was never an option for me. Producing music, having creative control—it was never going to happen as a girl in a girl group, not in that company, not at that time. They had a mold, and I didn’t fit into it. Once I understood that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

Chris’ eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them. “That… must’ve been tough to come to terms with.”

“It was,” you admitted. “I was angry for a while, at myself, at the system. But after I left, I started to see that it wasn’t the end. There’s more than one way to make a dream come true, and the path I’m on now—it feels right for me. I’m happy where I am.”

Chris nodded, processing your words. “You always seemed so sure of yourself back then. I guess I just… I admired that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t as sure as you think. But thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

There was a moment of quiet, the café’s gentle hum filling the space between you. Then Chris tilted his head slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you still do music? Like creating or singing?”

You smiled, the question sparking something warm in you. “Yeah, I do. It’s just a hobby now, though. I write and sing at home when I feel like it. It’s… different from before, but it brings me a lot of joy.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “I’m glad you haven’t let it go completely. Music was always such a big part of who you are.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “It still is. But right now, I haven’t really been doing much with it. I just moved back to Seoul recently, so I’m still settling in. Once things are a bit more stable, I’d love to dive back into it.”

“You moved back?” Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. “How long ago?”

“Just a couple of months,” you said. “I wanted a change, and Seoul felt like the right place to be.” Then, after a brief pause, you added, “You know, once everything’s in order, you should come by sometime. I’ve been meaning to show someone my music setup—well, when I finally unpack it all.”

Chris’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened with a warm smile. “Yeah? I’d like that. It’d be nice to hear what you’ve been working on since.”

“It’s nothing fancy – no chart-topping masterpieces” you said quickly, brushing off the compliment with a wave of your hand. “But it’s always fun to share it with someone who gets it.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his sincerity unmistakable. “Just let me know when you’re ready. No rush.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the café windows, the two of you lingered, caught in a space that felt timeless. There was something comforting about reconnecting, about seeing the ways you had both changed and grown, yet still finding the same thread of understanding that had tied you together all those years ago.

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[gnohomotho]

can we get some like 'junho is the type of husband' pls??? ❤️❤️❤️ doesnt have to be full story just fluff!! 🙏

Jun-ho is the type ...husband!edition 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Jun-ho is the type...husband!edition

Pairing: husband!Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader Warnings: F L U F F

Jun-ho is the type to wake up five minutes before you and get caught between wanting to snuggle you and kiss your forehead silly, but would absolutely never wish to disturb you. He will then fall back asleep with his body ever-so-slightly touching yours for reassurance...then sleep through three alarm clocks.

Jun-ho is the type to offer you all the blankets before you go to sleep, covering you in them, wrapping you up and squishing you through the fabric to relish your softness and delighted purrs at being so snug – and he gets to cuddle you harder without worry of hurting you with his fervour. In the middle of the night, however, all the blankets are oddly confiscated to his side of the bed, leading you to sleepy tug-o-wars. He’s very apologetic if he wakes and realises the situation.

Jun-ho is the type to warm you up and cover you being the big spoon, he loves feeling protective and close to you. When his chest is against your back, he knows you feel his heart and feels very connected to you. His hand always finds the top of your head and does little twirls in your hair as he humms in his sleep.

Jun-ho is the type to have all his clothes neatly folded by the bed, always wears a towel around his body after a shower, much as he loves and cherishes you, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and always acts as if it’s your first time meeting him.

Jun-ho is the type to be driven by intense adoration and affection rather than blind lust. You could put on the most racy, revealing, sensual negligée – and he will be very flattered and bashful, cheeks red and hand over eyes – but he will jump at you without warning if you’re comfortable in one of his shirts, humming to yourself and looking peaceful.

Jun-ho is the type to watch you do things, half out of protectiveness, half out of genuine curiosity. You always wonder how he manages to sneak up on you with his frame, but often you turn around to see him, smiling that wide smile to himself, as you do the most mundane tasks. Your confused “What?” is met with a little head shake and another smile.

Jun-ho is the type to get warm off your happiness – little gestures and little notes spring up around the house for you to discover, only for the little yelp of surprise or faux sigh you breathe his name in give him a small rush that makes him want to scoop you up and snuggle nose-to-nose.

Jun-ho is the type to wish to look after you, even if he knows you’re fully capable and wouldn’t ask him to. If you’re not feeling well, you get three hot water bottles and a bath drawn. And don’t even think of walking to it, he never misses an opportunity to carry you in his arms.

Jun-ho is the type to remember that one specific food, drink, item that you mention off-handily and suddenly, you discover cookbooks folded on the page of your favourite dessert and your coffee tasting more of the spice you like so much. He will never admit to it, though.

Jun-ho is the type to relish both foreplay and aftercare, with emphasis on both. He sees foreplay as the whole day he has free with you, from visiting a beautiful place with playful banter, hidden touches here and there, and lots and lots of PDA. You never knew feeding birds and sharing earphones could lead to such intimacy, but here you are.

Jun-ho is the type who loves dad jokes. Enough said.

Jun-ho is the type to be very protective of you, without bordering on uncomfortable. If you’re around people, you know his hand is very lightly hovering around the small of your back. If you’re walking together, it’s arm in arm. If you’re waiting for him, he always waits first to be aware of each aspect of his surroundings.

Jun-ho is the type to want to hold you tight, so tight he feels your bodies as one being – but is also worried he’ll hurt you, so he often walks up to you from behind and wordlessly lays his arms around your waist, holding your stomach, and gently swaying with you. The motion he feels adds intimacy and closeness.

Jun-ho is the type to remember all your anniversaries, but prefers to start celebrating them a day before their actual date, so you know he knows.

[pinkiemachine]

Hi- it's the anon who asked about potential Dami love interests. I'd LOVE to hear more!!!

*cracks knuckles*

Dear little Damian is a troubled soul, and sadly he takes after both his parents. A travesty, I know. When trying to root around the comics and surrounding media for that one perfect love interest that everyone agrees on, I didn’t find anything except maybe Flatline, but even that’s not unanimous, and I myself am part of the reason it’s not unanimous. When I thought about it reeeally hard, I realised why the idea of putting Damian in a relationship at all has felt so tricky up until now. In short: kid’s messed up and probably shouldn’t be dating at all. A travesty, I know.

But I didn’t let that stop me!

I’m just kidding, I did, BUT THEN I had a BETTER idea!

Ahem, ahem…

Chapter 1:

In my AU, the story goes like this: Damian had never given love a second thought. He was told that one day he would need to marry to continue the Al Ghul bloodline, but nothing more. Actually, it was entirely possible that he would wind up in an arranged marriage, so it was something he really, really hadn’t bothered to think about. Then, when he turned 14, he joined the Teen Titans as their leader and met Princess Amethyst. Heir to the throne of Gemworld, temporarily on Earth due to story shenanigans, but must go back home eventually to reclaim her kingdom.

Amethyst (or Amy) became a member of the TT shortly after arriving on Earth, and at first, Damian purely saw her as an underling, but Amethyst, oh, she didn’t stand for that. See, she was raised in the courts of the Gem Palace. She had received the best education money could buy, she had been personally tutored in magic since the age of four, and she was a well-bred young lady. Whenever Damian wanted to, he got lippy and snarky and smarter-than-you toward just about anyone, but when he did it to Amy, he got back what he served and then some. Amy didn’t shrink from his angry, snide tone, she didn’t hesitate when he got philosophical or witty, she could spit facts and wax poetically as fast as he could, and she didn’t take any of his insults lying down. The other Teen Titans would often stand on the sidelines in fear and morbid entertainment as they watched the two of them go back and forth, arguing for hours sometimes. Honestly, if you asked any of them if Damian and Amy got along, they’d probably tell you they were mortal enemies. And yet, both of them found themselves willingly plunging into each argument as if they had been eagerly awaiting it. As if this other person was the first person in a long time who could actually stand on their intellectual level and not bat en eye.

Well, a few missions go by and this remains the status quo. No major relationship changes of any kind, just lots of back and forth banter.

BUT THEN—

The TT were on one mission in particular and it involved a shapeshifter. It’s nighttime, the team is in this big old abandoned building, they know this shapeshifter character is around somewhere, then they get attacked, and the group is split. Damian and Amethyst wind up alone. Together. In a section of the building. Amy suddenly appears distraught. She turns to Damian, blinking her big eyes, and while no one else is around to hear her she asks if he’s ever… felt for another person before. Damian… stares blankly at her. “Uh…” (Internally, warning bells are blaring, and he doesn’t know what to do.) Amy comes closer to him, and asks him if he’s ever felt… like he wanted to kiss someone before. Damian continues to stare blankly. “Uh…” (Inwardly, there are no more thoughts, only panic and melt down! He was never trained for this!) Amy hesitates, feeling sure that he wouldn’t understand, and for a moment, Damian thinks he’s in the clear, but then Amy changes her mind, musters her courage, and kisses him! Goosebumps. Hair standing on end. Fireworks. The whole shebang! …And then Damian falls unconscious. Yeah, that wasn’t Amethyst. That was the shapeshifter! It’s Nobody, by the way 👇 Yeah, I wanted to give her shapeshifting, because I think it would be cool for her character and other plot related reasons… see previous.

Anyway, so Damian wakes up after the mission, having been totally blindsided by Nobody, tricking him into kissing who he thought was Amy, and now he doesn’t know what to do with all that! So he pretends it never happened. No one else needs to know. And yet, he can’t help but feel some type of way whenever Amy walks by. He can’t even argue with her anymore—it makes him feel too weird! So he starts avoiding her like the plague. He doesn’t talk to her, he doesn’t look at her, she might as well not exist to him! And this… was not the smartest idea.

Ever since joining the team and meeting Damian, Amy’s felt the full sting of his insults and attacks. She’d never admit it, of course, and she tries her best to not let him get to her, but after weeks and weeks and weeks of this, she’d be lying if she said his words didn’t chip away at her heart just a little bit, wearing down her self esteem. And now, with Damian ignoring her, it only made things worse. He hated her. She was sure of it. He hated her and he wished she had never joined the team, and maybe it would better if she’d never come at all. Again, she locked these feelings away, trying her best to ignore them, but they were still there, waiting for their opportunity to make a mess, and make a mess they did.

It all came to a head after the TT came back from a botched mission. Damian was in a particularly bad mood and was tearing into some of his teammates, lecturing them about what they did wrong, and then Amy stepped up to defend them. That was the first time in weeks Damian acknowledged her, and he was savage. He didn’t pull any punches—he said aloud every single thing Amy most dreaded to hear. “You’re a burden to this team! You don’t know what you’re doing! It would be better if you’d never come to Earth at all!” Everything short of saying “I hate you.” And Amy… usually so resilient and proud and strong… finally broke. Tears slipped out before she could stop them, and she ran from the room, embarrassed. The other Titans were furious with Damian, and went to go console Amy. Even Jon, who tried his best to be patient with his friend because he knew about his awful upbringing, couldn’t defend him this time. He’d gone too far and been unnecessarily mean to someone who had only ever tried to be his friend. Jon was going to go join the others consoling her.

Damian flew back to Gotham in a rage. He spent three hours on the training course, then went up to his room and slammed the door shut. Alfred could see what was wrong the moment he set foot in the house, so he called Nightwing, hoping that the two of them could have a little chat. And chat they did. They snuck out on patrol together and Dick prodded the truth out of Damian, but he insisted that he hadn’t done anything wrong! Amy overreacted! It wasn’t his fault! Dick had to have a very long talk with him that night, and what Damian took away from it was this: Amy was his teammate, but more than that she was his friend. He can’t go around insulting her and making her cry, and the only way to stop being mean to her is to learn how to care about her and her feelings. This is a difficult concept for Damian to grasp.

The next day, Damian goes to Jon and asks him about “caring.” How does one do it? Jon does his best to explain, though he doesn’t put it quite so eloquently, and then he asks why Damian wants to know. Is this about Amy? Hmm? Does he want to care about Amy? Does he secretly like Amy? HMMM???

Damian reacts with nothing but hostility at first, rejecting such an utterly ridiculous idea, but then… he remembers the night he thought he had kissed Amy… and then he started recalling so many other things about Amy… things he admired about her… and he had to take a step back. Holy cow. He did like her. He made Jon swear to never, ever tell anyone about this under any circumstances, ever. This was a secret he would take to his grave. Especially since… Amy would leave one day, anyway. She had her kingdom to go home to. Rule as queen…

So following that conversation, Damian then goes to find Amy and apologise to her, but it doesn’t go well. Amy wants the truth out of him. No more insults or arguments or beating around the bush, she wanted to know exactly what Damian really thought of her. The truth! But Damian couldn’t tell her. She asked again. And again, he just couldn’t tell her. She left him, saying “I’ll think about accepting your apology.”

For a while, nothing more was said about it. An uneasy peace had been negotiated between the two, and while their constant ignoring of one another left the rest of the team feeling uneasy, it was at least a small improvement from constant arguing.

Finally, something came along to help set things right. During one of the big season finales, Amethyst is in mortal danger. Damian, seeing no other alternative, dives headfirst into danger, taking a bullet for her and saving her life. Amethyst refused to leave his bedside while he recovered, but once he did wake up, she made herself scarce. She was beyond grateful to him, but she couldn’t tell him that. To his face, anyway. Damian knew she was just beyond the med room door, though. He understood how she felt, and he knew the flowers by his bed were from her. He’d never appreciated flowers more in his life. But he couldn’t tell her that. Not to her face, anyway.

From that day on, Damian and Amy were on continuously improving terms, and every once in a while it wasn’t unusual for one or the other to find a gift left for them in their room or their Titans locker. Small things, usually. Get-well-soon gifts after getting injured in battle for example. They argued less, but they still never spoke to one another. Casually, that is. During missions, it was a necessity, but now they found themselves agreeing on battle strategies instead of butting heads all the time. The rest of the team was speechless.

However, all good things must come to an end. By the end of the Ultimate Teen Titans run, Amethyst’s kingdom is saved, and it’s time for her to go home and become queen. She can no longer be a Teen Titan. As she stands by the portal, waiting to take her home, she says one final goodbye to all her friends she’s come to love over the course of her stay. Lorena and Jenny… Jon, Jaime, and Virgil… and then there’s Damian. Team Captain. She gave hugs to all the others, but when she gets to Damian, she falters. In the end, all she can muster is a handshake, and all Damian can think to do is accept it. She says goodbye. He says goodbye. Even though there’s much more they wanted to say… it almost felt too cruel to say it now, on the verge of her leaving. So, Amy turns and starts walking… but that’s when Damian felt his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d regret not saying something now while he could—he needed to say something quickly!

“Amy!”

She turned around at once, hoping desperately that he would say the words they had both left hanging in the air. She wanted him to tell her not to go… he wanted to beg her to stay… but…

“…I… take care of yourself…”

At once, Amy’s spirits fell so low, it was just unbearable. With a quivering lip, she gave him a smile, said, “You too,” and then vanished into the portal.

Damian was left standing there, still in shock.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Bruce would routinely go looking for Damian and find him in his room, curled up on the floor by his fireplace. Titus the Great Dane was usually close by. Damian would never admit it in a million years, but Bruce knew he had been crying, at least the first time, right after Amy had left. After that… he was in a deep depression and barely ate, barely slept, and barely went outside. He would get back into the swing of things eventually—he was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul for pity’s sake—but for those few weeks… while he was alone… he was just a 14-year-old boy who was beating himself up over missing his last shot to tell Amy… he loved her. And now she was gone forever.

End of Chapter 1.

[gotta-winwin]

heavy limerence | chan x reader

cw/tw: angst, based on the song right where you left me by taylor swift

a/n: don't sue me for emotional damage :) i know it's a rly angsty fic for a birthday but i've been working on it for awhile now... this was derived from the headcannon childhoodbestie!dino

tysm to tara @diamonddaze01 for beta reading <33

Chan supposed he was at that age now, the age of marriage and kids and destination honeymoons. At least everyone around him seemed to think so, as he watched his close friends each find their person and tie the knot. Settle down. 

Everyone was docking on land while he was still wading in the ocean, legs sore from keeping himself afloat. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t find the right person, no. Chan had found the perfect person. It was just his rotten luck that person didn’t want him back. 

Although Chan had tried to deny it time and time again, growing up next to you had shaped him in a way that made him only yours. Maybe it was subconsciously, but he had grown up, tailored himself to be everything you would have wanted, aligned himself to your needs. People had told him it was pathetic, but Chan didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t a sacrifice if it meant you’d love him.

And so he gave up drinking at bars, loud highschool parties, the pair of green neon runners you had told him did nothing for his image. He didn’t mind. His young mind saw it as an investment -- an investment for a future he could share with you. 

So why was he now sitting at the end booth of the local restaurant, your wedding invitation in his hands? 

Chan couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. 

The manilla coloured piece of cardstock seemed to burn in his hands, as he nursed a glass of whiskey, the sky outside littered with fragmented stars. 

Y/N L/N and Lee Chan welcome you to their destination wedding by the beach. 

He blinks the forming tears away and his name disappears. 

It was hard to let the past go when his room still held notions of you, scattered across the vicinity. Your two hands had basically built the place. If Chan concentrated just enough, he could still see you sitting on the hardwood floor, your hair falling over your face as you bent down to study the IKEA furniture instructions. 

“I can’t believe I’m witnessing the character growth of Lee Chan.” You had marveled, a light teasing tone hinted in your voice. “Getting his own apartment?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Impossible.”

He had laughed, handing you a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice. “You’re just jealous my place is bigger than yours.”

“Yeah.” You admitted, still in awe of the place. It had those floor-to-ceiling windows and bookshelves lining the walls that you’ve always wanted. “I still can’t believe you got this place.” 

Chan would never admit out loud that he had gotten it with you in mind. Truthfully, he hadn’t really cared about getting a place until he had walked into this one, suddenly hit with visions of the two of you inhabiting the space. Fuck it, Chan had gotten the place with your future family in mind, but he knew that was insane of him. 

“It just felt right,” is all he says, kneeling beside you to help. 

“Well, you know I’m going to be spending all my time here.” 

Yeah, that was kind of the point. 

Chan was a man of math, statistics and common sense. He had always believed you’d love him. 

It had just made sense- that after spending all this time with each other, crying into one another's shoulders, sharing straws and easy banter- Chan figured you’d love him. 

He knew he was a good person. And he had always been so very good to you. So when he shook hands with your fiance for the very first time, he had swallowed the urge to punch him in the face. Because it should’ve been him. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had never viewed him in that way. 

Chan knew he would always be your brother, your best friend, someone you loved and cherished. Just not in the way that would make you want to marry him. 

No. That was a privilege he wasn’t allowed to get. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” The man held you by the waist, a kind smile extended towards Chan. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things I hope.” Chan smiles back and he prays it doesn’t look forced. 

“Great things. She can’t seem to shut up about her best friend- her ‘platonic soulmate,’ she says.” 

The words swirl down his throat. It stings. 

“I’m so glad you could make it to the wedding, Chan.” You tell him. 

He nods. “Of course.” 

Of course. 

“Promise me something.” 

He lays on the matted rug covering his new apartment, running his lego motorbike lazily against your leg. “Anything.” He says, and the way he says it makes your heart warm. 

“If neither one of us gets married by the time we’re 30, we’ll marry each other.” 

It’s a ridiculous idea, but the thought of getting married to Chan didn’t sound so bad. 

“Okay.” 

He breathed out the words and knew it was over for him. Your name would be forever crossed against his heart, marked onto it like young lovers marked their initials on tree bark. 

Although you had taken the moment as a joke between desperately single friends, Chan had taken it as a vow- one equally as important and weighted as the vow he would’ve made to you in chapel. 

And so Chan waited for 30. He waited and watched you leave him behind.

[cweeming]

act three.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

it took you a while to get used to being in his lap. well, that just happened.

"a little heads-up would have been nice," you teased, and Patch couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. more attention would have been nice.

"missy." he found himself responding back to your teasing, adding emphasis on the nickname he coined for you.

"you know, I find it quite funny how a grown man such as yourself would need stress relief before a show." you fixed him with a smirk, in the mood for playful banter. as were he - he would fully allow it. "what, afraid you're going to miss a thing or two there and be ridiculed~?"

you felt as he poked your belly button, a particular sensitive spot on your body. it's not like he knew. with a blush, your expression turned sheepish, quickly swatting at his hand.

"is that not why I'm here, no?" he watched you with his one eye as you brushed yourself off, giving you the moment to compose properly. "with the proper practice, followed by the proper audience, comes confidence."

he was totally talking about you.

after you've had your moment, you decided to get straight into business. "so, the sypnosis of the show goes like this: it's a short love story that's set in a park during an early spring evening. Lena and Elliot - you and I - are strangers who meet by chance. and as we talk, a connection begins to form, exploring the ideas of love and serendipity." you picked up the new script Patch had gotten for you, studying it as you held it up to your face. this is something he could go through with. "now, is there any particular part you want to go over?"

as the two of you rehearsed, you couldn't help but find yourself becoming... attached to the man. and not in the basic, "I'm having feelings for this person" kind of way. it were a primal instinct. like if you didn't fuck him right then and there, you would die. unbeknownst to you, he could sense it.

and it would only escalate further during one particular scene. you acted your part as Lena, setting your script down as you looked at Patch curiously. "do you believe in love?"

he didn't need to look at his script, but he needed to use it as a distraction for what he were about to do. in character as Elliot, he lazily brang his script into the air, allowing his hand to fall from your hip... to your bottom.

"love?" he released a small laugh. "that's a big question for... a park bench."

the sound of a moan filled his ears as his hand slipped into your panties, groping the firm flesh of your asscheek. unsatisfied, he would repeat the action, resulting in yet another sound (albeit small).

"w-what are you doing?" your body pressed against his own, hands gripping his shoulders. you refused to give him the satisfaction of how you were feeling, simply blushing. "this isn't part of the script."

"your next line would be, I'm not askin' you for a philosophical dissertation." dropping the script from his hands, a hint of lust were prominent in his eye as he looked up at you. "or am I wrong?"

your mouth opened slightly in shock, unable to believe what you were hearing. okay. wow. he were really going there.

"this isn't really appropriate." you suddenly became shy, stroking a strand of your hair. "what if we get caught? what if someone walks in during the middle of what we're doing?" you aren't sure if you're ready for anything either, since you're a virgin.

he simply played with your panty, tugging at it and feeling the fabric. "let them."

let them, you repeated to yourself internally. what a strange man. the last thing you expected when being told you'd have a backup partner was to be fancied. damn, did it feel good. the only problem being, you couldn't let it clash with the show. "are you sure we should be doing this? we're merely strangers..."

with his empty hand, he gripped your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, slightly tilting your chin up.

"I don't see why not."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀...

the next few minutes were spent in silence. Patch had his hands on your hips, guiding you as you grinded against his lap. the pleasure etched on your face was unmistakable, and although it took you every ounce not to react, he could sense just how much you were enjoying it. his glare was rather intense, his brow pulled into a furrow while a frown were on his face. all you could think about were whether or not he were interested in this as much as you were.

"... I think we got off on the wrong foot." you panted softly, continuing to grind against his lap. your hands slowly found themselves against his neck. "the name's Kiara Smith. I'm an artisan here within Madripoor. theatre is what I call home. people usually say I'm a big star, but I only see myself as the lead role."

he would simply respond with, "I know." you watched as he pulled out a cigar, carefree, before lighting the foot on fire. to say you were offended were an overstatement. the last thing you wanted to deal with was a stalker.

"excuse me?" you stammered over your words, trying to find the right thing to say. "I don't suppose you to be a stalker."

"close." he huffed his cigar, before removing it from his mouth and withdrawing smoke. "I'm a fan."

hearing this revelation put you into a dumbfounded state. the entire time, you've been thinking this guy was just some random who wanted a piece of you. when in reality...

"... that just makes the sex even better." you spoke before you thought. realizing this, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands, a blush coloring your cheeks. "too soon?"

he shook his head, a light smirk drawn on his face. "'course not."

he grabbed your hand from his neck, moving it so your arm were over his shoulder. you did the same with your other hand, wrapping both arms around his neck. you didn't realize how close you'd be until you were nose-to-nose with him. of course, you couldn't help but make a fuss out of this.

"your cigar stinks," you growled lightly, annoyance etched onto your face. he snickered, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and blowing smoke into your face to mock you.

"deal with it, missy." he set the cigar aside, before wrapping his arms around your ass. he made his efforts very clear - he wanted you to make the first move.

he nudged your ass a few times, bringing you closer to his face. his beard lightly grazed against your face, your lips brushing up against his own. not very lady-like, you thought, but you also had no say in choice.

after a moment, you pressed your lips to his, kissing him - in return, he kissed you.

sadly, it didn't last long. the cigar-after taste dripping from his breath got to you, making you sputter and cough. Patch watched with amusement as you backed away, letting you have your moment. he wouldn't let you off the hook, though.

"terrible," he teased, a smug smile on his face. you growled in response, holding back from telling him to stfu. if it weren't for him and his smoking. "I oughta show you how it's properly done."

with that, he slowly leaned in, wanting to prove the point of being a better kisser. you just couldn't help but mess with him. noticing the eyepatch on his right eye, you extended you hand toward it, wanting to see what were under it.

not until he caught you.

as if it were a sixth sense. his left eye side-eyed your hand in a matter of seconds. acting on instinct, he grunted, quickly grabbing ahold of your wrist.

"hands off the patch, love." he held your gaze, his claws semi-extracted. seemed as though the eyepatch meant business.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the two of you made out. pretty good kisser he were, you thought to yourself. only problem were, you seemed rather shy on french kissing him... you moaned softly at the feel of his tongue against yours, pulling away. but, he held your head in place with two hands, tongue delving past yours. desperate to maintain control.

"a-ah~..." after a good while, he released you, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. you breathed rather heavily, a strong blush on your face.

Patch's hands found their way to your button through shirt, pulling it over your shoulders. "ain't you hot in these?" he asked, allowing the button through shirt to fall from your arms. "a crop top weren't good enough. tch. you've got on this red shirt, and a pair of blue shorts past your knees. I'd be dyin' of sweat."

"I thought I put on a pretty good outfit." you stated matter of factly, the button through shirt leaving your body and dropping to the floor. you watched as his hands made their way to your shorts, finger latching around a tab as he tugged you closer. "pretty hypocritical, coming from the man in a suit."

"ouch." a smug smile appeared on his face, enjoying the jab directed toward him. "you've got fire. I like it."

the next few minutes would be spent removing the clothes from your body. shorts? off they go. crop top? cute, but it wouldn't sit right with just your panties. they were next, leaving you in only your matching bra and panties.

the room suddenly grew cold. you shivered, crossing your arms over your chest. so much for wearing a summer outfit.

"you match?" Patch asked, eyeing the blue floral bra and panties covering your most sensitive spots. "uhuh," you answered. "like it?" he gave you the look. like it? of course he does. he's a man, for goodness sake. you blushed, feeling awkward under your gaze.

"... so." you shifted uncomfortably in his lap, fidgetting with your fingers. "what do we do now?" he looked to the side for a moment, his mind forming a thought. when one came, a lightbulb lit up, looking back up at you.

"bet I'm the one who could bring you over to a new high." his eye narrowed, a smirk splitting from one side of his face to the other. you knew full well what he meant. a familiar ache formed in your gut as you blushed, drawn in by what he had to offer.

[gascon-en-exil]

Osvald/Partitio got me writing a an entire partial AU continuity, so obviously them. They just have so much to work from in canon between their Crossed Path, that one surprisingly spicy party banter, and how well they pair with Papp/Roque - another favorite - for multigenerational gay co-parenting.

(Also, Osvald/Partitio has massive kink potential which is always fun to see in fic and art. Osvald's design suggests around half a dozen options alone.)

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[gamesetattach]

When World's Collide - Part 3

Jannik Sinner x Williams Race Strategist!Reader It's been over a year since you both met and, now in a long-term relationship, the worlds the two of you met through are starting to cause cracks in your connection. Cue angst and fighting, but also lot's of love. Catch up on Part 1 and Part 2

Jannik and you had built something rare—a relationship grounded in mutual respect, deep understanding, and an ability to make each other laugh even on the hardest days. Over the past year, your bond had grown stronger, weaving itself into the fabric of your lives despite the demands of your respective careers. When you were together, everything felt lighter. Whether it was cooking simple dinners in one of your Monaco apartments, walking the coastal trails hand-in-hand, or decompressing after intense weekends with quiet conversations on the couch, you brought each other a happiness neither of you had quite known before.

Jannik loved how you could turn any room into a stage, how your quick wit and sharp humor left people in stitches. You loved the way his quiet strength grounded you, the way his calm presence could soothe your most frazzled moments. Together, you balanced each other in ways that felt almost effortless—until it wasn’t.

---

You'd had a fair few points of tensions throughout your year together, but what couple didn't fight? All of them were insignificant in the grand scheme of your relationship. In fact, what grew to become your biggest, and only, point of contention didn't even start as an argument.

An understanding of privacy was always important between you and Jannik, it came with the nature of your jobs. In the beginning stages, it was mutual, a given. Of course the last thing either of you wanted was for the media to disrupt what was growing between you. Even as your relationship grew to be more serious and defined, you both agreed to keep it out of the public eye. Any hesitation you had about it felt minor, barely worth mentioning at the time. But, in retrospect, maybe you didn't start on the same page in the way you liked to think, because as the months rolled on the secrecy became harder for you to navigate.

---

One evening, you’d been scrolling through social media when you came across yet another post speculating about your friendships with various F1 figures. This time, it was a video of you and driver Lando Norris laughing over coffee in the paddock. You remembered it as a spontaneous, passerby conversation after you both had entered the canteen for drinks at the same time. The video, however, made the moment feel much larger—more established and intentional.

You generally stayed away from interacting with content that involved you; for a video about you to even come up on your own feed, it had to have had a lot of traction. You saw the many comments ranged from innocent fun to outright assumptions about some secret romance.

“They’re really running with this Lando thing, huh?” you’d said to Jannik, showing him the post.

He only glanced at it briefly, his expression indifferent. “You know how people are. They’ll always find something to talk about.”

“True,” you’d said, brushing it off. But deep down, you wished he’d said something more reassuring or had more of a reaction, or even just stayed on the topic just a little longer. Anything that acknowledged the absurdity of it all.

---

The next time wasn’t so easy for you to move past. You’d been joking with Alex Albon on the Williams team radio during a practice session, and the clip had gone viral. Fans loved your lively banter on track, but the scrutiny of others was unrelenting.

“People are saying I should be more serious,” you told Jannik later over the phone that evening. “That I’m too friendly with the drivers and too chatty on the radio.”

“You’re good at your job,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

“Well yeah, but is it?” you’d asked, searching his face on the screen for something more. “Don't you ever worry about what people think?”

“All the time,” he admitted. “You know that. But that doesn’t mean I let them in.”

His words felt like a wall—one you couldn’t quite scale, and you felt like maybe you were crazy to care so much.

---

The tension finally came to a head at a tournament in Italy. You’d come to support Jannik but weren’t to be seated in his box, per his request. It had become standard practice ever since you started dating. Initially, when you were still friends, there wasn't such weight on any suspicion that could be drawn from some new guest watching alongside his friends and family. But now that there was truth to the speculation, you sat a substantial distance away. You would still have a good view, but you'd be somewhere where the camera could catch you on the big screen and only assume you were an avid fan of tennis, not the partner of a top player.

And, as unconditional the support between you was, the distance was getting to you. His celebrations, his shouts, and even his few curses were never said in your direction. He'd finish each point with his body and fist oriented towards his box. He probably couldn't find you in the crowd even if he wanted to. Going to his matches in person, and feeling alienated during, was starting to feel like the ultimate example of the strain the secrecy was putting on your dynamic. On you.

So when he told you he'd be leaving your hotel room to meet and warm up with his team before the match, you’d made some passive-aggressive comment after your usual wishes of good luck.

“I’ll just be somewhere out of the way, like always,” you’d muttered under you breath, crossing your arms.

“Come on,” he said backtracking from the door at your tone, trying to placate you even in his rush. “It keeps things simple, that's all.”

“Right,” you’d replied coldly, brushing him off.

You don't even know why you started anything then. You never wished to disturb the flow of his matches in any way, and it was unlike you to make a scene right before his departure, but that unvoiced worry in your chest was beginning to weigh on you more than you could bear. And maybe that's why Jannik re-entered the room despite the full day of obligations waiting for him floors below.

He came closer to you and placed a hand to your shoulder. When you still didn't look up at him, he ducked his head to be in your eye-line and tried to meet your gaze. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. At first it was a show of stubbornness, but now a few, plump tears sat on your water line. Your vision had begun to blur and you worried if you made any sudden movements, it would all flood out. That you'd cry or lash out, and that wasn't like you. Especially not on his match day.

He nudged your chin up with two of his fingers, and clicked his tongue when he saw your tears.

He called your name softly then, and gently said "Heyy, what is this?"

And you couldn't just say nothing, because you were beginning to feel it in everything. And keeping it in was only making it hurt more.

"This is me being sick of hiding away," you burst out, "If even my support has to be suppressed, then what am I even here for."

"Where is this coming from? You know why it is this way," his accent coming in stronger as his volume increased to match the heat in your voice, "We've discussed it many times before."

"Okay, yes," you snapped back, voice sharp, "but now I'm telling you that I'm tired of it. Why should we go out of our way to lie for the sake of what other people think?

"It's not a lie, it's protection."

"Well, it doesn't feel like it. I should be able to express my love for you—or at least be able to mention you without feeling like I've overstepped or overshared."

He softened then, and took a breath before speaking again, "I just think it's safer we keep things close and private. If we open up it becomes... Our relationship isn't something for others to discuss"

You shook your head, unsatisfied with the response, "I think our relationship isn't something for us to omit. And I guess that's the difference."

You stood firm, though still tear-stricken, and he looked a little dejected. With no resolution in sight, he sighed and moved to hold you. When you dodged his touch, he shook his head a little and spoke quietly, "We'll talk again about this, I promise. But I should go now."

You nodded, and looked past him, "...Yeah. Good luck."

---

Despite feeling guilty for letting him leave on that note during a tournament, you didn't go find him in between the warm-up and the match start. You wouldn't have been able to go up to him anyways, but you usually slipped into the players lounge to sneak a wave and sometimes you'd even get to pull him off to some un-trafficked hallway.

Instead you made a beeline to your seat in the stands alongside other high-profile guests. You had a great view of the court but, as usual, you were a ways away from his box. Jannik could compartmentalize well, especially when it came to tennis, and you trusted that he'd still play at his best. And maybe if it had been a race day, you could've have tucked the fight away as well. But as you sat removed from his team and other guests, you had to will yourself to focus on the game without replaying the argument in your head.

---

After the match, you passed through the cool-down room with other guests in your row. You congratulated Jannik and his team with a polite smile, mindful of the cameras streaming the room live. You felt his eyes on you, a heavier stare than usual during your practiced, impersonal nod to each other.

Then you worked your way around, offering kind words to other players as well. It was an innocuous interaction, but one that set off an unintended chain reaction.

As the guests filtered out, Jannik overheard a conversation among the players. Matteo Berrettini was explaining your significance to Ben Shelton, who was unfamiliar with F1.

“She’s a genius strategist,” Berrettini said. “Williams has been killing it since she joined. And she’s… let’s just say, a big fan favorite.”

“Wicked smart and cute,” Shelton added, grinning. “Should’ve asked her out.”

“Oh, but she’s with Lando Norris I believe,” Berrettini said casually. “That’s the talk of the paddock.”

Jannik’s chest tightened at the words. He stayed silent, but as realization settled in, the blows kept coming. Not even his friends and peers knew about the relationship he valued so deeply, and today you'd had to conceal your hurt just as much as you always had to conceal your relationship. And, if the fight was anything to go by, you'd been masking your distress for some time now and he'd had no idea. Not to mention, on top of it all, he had to listen to someone else being linked to you. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

---

He returned to the hotel room that night after finishing up with all the press, already intending to apologize, but when he walked in, his heart broke at the sight of you.

Sitting at the edge of the bed crossed legged with your laptop, it appeared as though you were just catching up on some work. But when you'd looked over at the sound of him entering, Jannik could see your eyes were puffy and red the way they only got after hours of crying.

“Mio cuore” he said softly, mostly to himself, making his way over to you. “I'm so sorry.”

He sat beside you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear before wrapping his arms around you. You let him hold you but your voice trembled as you spoke, his tenderness reigniting your tears from earlier. “It's so hard” you started, words still a mix of hurt and frustration, “To feel like… I don't know... ”

He stayed quiet and let you finish your thoughts. "... Like I'm something to be covered up," you said, your voice trailing off at the end. And whatever was left of Jannik's heart shattered.

“I love you.” he said quickly and earnestly, hugging you tighter into his chest and resting his chin on your head. “I could never be ashamed of you, you're the best part of my life.”

“I know. And I love you, I love being with you more than anything,” you asked, your voice breaking. “and I get wanting to keep things private, but this… it feels like something else. And it has for a while now.”

He exhaled shakily. “I thought I was protecting us,” he said. “But I didn’t see what it was doing to you, to us.”

You wiped at your tears. “I don't blame you, Jan. We both knew what our lives were like before we got together, being in the public eye. I just… didn't anticipate that all the secrecy would affect me like this.”

“You matter more than anything,” he said firmly, taking your hands in his. “and I should have noticed how you were feeling sooner. Or asked... Hearing you earlier and seeing you now—"

He sucked in a sharp breath before continuing, "I'm sorry. It only hit me today, and that’s my fault. I don’t want to hide anymore, and I don't want you to hurt anymore. Our relationship is our own, whether or not people know about it.”

You squeezed him back, and leaned up to look at him. “You mean that?”

“I do,” he said, his voice steady. “And I think we don't even need to hide to still be private... or mostly private.”

A small, teary laugh escaped you. “That sounds… doable.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, placing a kiss on your brow. “Together.”

---

You both settled on moving about the world as you always did, except now there were no spaces exempted. There was never any social media launch, or press panel announcement, but you now attended each other's events unguarded and open. Speculation arose pretty soon after the shift, and people spoke of the two of you being spotted out together or documented small appearances seen in broadcast, but both of you still mostly kept overt details to yourself.

And for a while speculation was all it was, until the accidental reveal that made the news undeniable. A photo snapped at the right (or wrong) moment when you and Jannik were leaving a celebration dinner you'd attended together after a Williams podium. Whilst waiting for a car outside the restaurant, his hand was resting on the small of your back to guide you down the steps. You leaned up to whisper something in his ear, he'd laughed in response before catching the back of your neck in his hand and leading your face back to his for a kiss.

The series of pictures that captured your clear closeness and laughter would've already been enough to fuel the fire, but the kiss just sealed the deal. The photos went viral within the hour, sparking a frenzy of dialogue and excitement.

The headlines were everywhere:

“Tennis Star Jannik Sinner and F1’s Power Strategist Confirm Relationship!” “The Crossover Couple We Didn’t Know We Needed” “F1 and Tennis Collide: Fans Are Obsessed with This Power Couple”

Social media exploded with reactions. Fans from both worlds—F1 and tennis—were abuzz, delighted by the unexpected pairing; people scrambled to learn more about your relationship.

“They’re like the ultimate power couple,” one tweet read. “My two favorite pastimes coming together. What more could you want?”

“Jannik is so reserved, and she’s so outspoken. It’s perfect. They must balance each other out,” another fan commented on Instagram.

The media painted your relationship as a modern-day fairy tale—two rising stars in completely different worlds finding common ground and supporting each other in all their success. Analysts went back and noted how Jannik’s game had improved noticeably over the past year, linking it to the steady role you’d likely played behind the scenes. Meanwhile, your ability to remain composed under scrutiny was celebrated as a testament to the strength of your bond.

Your public appearances together became a point of fascination. Tourists captured candid moments of you laughing at dinner or holding hands while walking through Monaco. And as much as you both steered clear of the noise, what you did receive felt pleasant and manageable—most of the coverage celebratory rather than intrusive, as if the world had collectively decided to root for you.

When asked about the relationship during interviews, Jannik kept it simple and succinct as always, but his words were inevitably heartfelt. “She’s incredible,” he said in one post-match interview, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face. “It's very, very special, and I feel lucky.”

For your part, you handled the attention with humor and grace. “I think the real challenge is convincing him to let me strategize his matches,” you joked during an F1 press panel, earning laughter from the crowd.

Together, you became the model of a supportive, successful relationship—one that thrived not just despite of your demanding careers, but because of them. And the two of you? You knew your deep respect and unconditional support would always get the both of you through any obstacle, in your relationship or otherwise.

---

Yayy! I love this pairing, I hope you do too xx

[flowerchild28]

6th Member part 2

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, crush

0.8k

part 1

We arrive at the venue early in the morning, and the contrast between us is almost comical. Zayn is grumpy, clearly not a morning person, while Harry practically bounces with energy, grinning from ear to ear. I, on the other hand, am still half-asleep after dozing off on Niall’s shoulder during the ride over.

Interviews have always been a whirlwind, but something about watching Louis in them always makes me smile. He’s effortlessly charming, tossing jokes left and right, sometimes veering into absolute nonsense just to get a reaction out of the studioer. And, of course, it works every time.

We’re seated in a line, the six of us, ready for another promotional interview. The fans are always excited for these moments, but they have no idea that we actually enjoy them just as much.

The interviewer starts with Niall. “What’s one of your favorite memories from the tour so far?”

“Oh, definitely the time we tried to teach Y/N how to skateboard and she nearly took Liam out,” Niall says, grinning. “I swear, I thought we were gonna have to cancel a show.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Okay, first of all, that skateboard was possessed. Second, I almost took myself out, too.”

The room laughs, and the interviewer moves on. “Liam, if you could switch talents with any of your bandmates for a day, who would it be?”

Liam thinks for a moment. “Probably Zayn’s drawing skills. I’ve seen his sketches, and they’re unreal.”

“Zayn, what about you?”

“Definitely Y/N’s ability to write lyrics so fast,” Zayn says with a small smirk. “She can come up with a melody in, like, five minutes. It’s a little annoying, actually.”

I grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The interviewer turns to Louis. “Alright, Louis, you always have the best banter. But what’s something people might not realize about you?”

He leans back in his seat, pretending to think deeply. “Well, obviously, I’m the most responsible member of the band.”

That earns a collective groan from all of us.

“Louis, mate, you literally left your passport in a hotel room last week,” Harry points out.

“Details, details,” Louis says with a wave of his hand, his signature mischievous grin appearing.

I laugh at his antics, watching how effortlessly he controls the mood of the room. His quick wit, his energy—it’s magnetic. There’s something about the way he can make everyone feel at ease that makes me admire him more than I probably should.

The drive to the studio had been nothing short of chaotic. As soon as we stepped outside, Liam had challenged me to a race to the car, and, of course, he won, claiming the passenger seat with a victorious grin. That left Harry, Niall, and Zayn squeezed into the middle row, while Louis lounged comfortably in the back.

Since I lost, I had to squeeze into the backseat next to Louis, which was way too small for the two of us. Our legs kept bumping together, and I was too tired to even complain, eventually resting my head on Niall’s shoulder and dozing off while the boys chatted. Louis had been uncharacteristically quiet during the ride, though I could feel his occasional glances in my direction.

The interviewer finishes up, and soon enough, we’re back in the studio for a quick recording session. Today, we’re working on “Little Black Dress” for the Midnight Memories album.

I slip on my headphones and lean back against the couch, watching as Louis steps up to the mic first. His voice is raspy, effortlessly smooth as he sings the opening lines.

Little black dress just walked into the room…

I tilt my head, listening closely. There’s something about the way he sings it that makes me curious.

Once he’s done, he steps out of the booth, and I give him a knowing look. “Alright, spill. Who’s the song about?”

Louis smirks, grabbing a water bottle before flopping down next to me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I narrow my eyes. “Yes, actually.”

He just shrugs, looking annoyingly smug. “It’s a mystery.”

“Oh, come on, Tommo. You don’t just write about a girl in a little black dress for no reason.”

His blue eyes flicker to mine, and for a second, I swear there’s something in his expression—something teasing but also a little nervous. “Maybe it’s just about a feeling,” he finally says, his voice quieter. “About a moment that sticks with you.”

I study him, trying to figure out if he’s being genuine or just messing with me. But before I can say anything else, Harry jumps in. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s actually get some recording done, yeah?”

I roll my eyes, but my heart is still racing a little.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just Louis being Louis.

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to it.

[beaulesbian]

so unfair i'm on my third playthrough and only for the first time i see a romance-only option added into a dialogue like this (that wasn't just between rook and their romanced companion)

[kingkatsuki]

Specifically thinking about long distance relationships today.

So tell me how you and your f/o would first meet online?

[awesometothe3rd]