#this is reminding me how much i love him though

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[requiemforthepoets]

baby peanut! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x wife!reader

SUMMARY: keeping your pregnancy from lando was proven to be very hard when all you want is tell him the amazing news that you both are expecting again. but since his birthday was coming up, you waited for his special day to tell him.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: reader is french-russian, multicultural household, established relationships, pregnancy, typos, and gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY LANDO DAY!!!!! was debating on posting a new fic for him, but decided to just make it a part of the norris family series, though this can be read as a stand alone. hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The soft morning light was just beginning to filter through the white curtains when you stirred awake, glancing over to see Lando fast asleep beside you. His peaceful face looked even more boyish, framed by the tousled strands of hair he hadn’t bothered to tame before collapsing into bed after last night’s stream. It had been hours before he joined you in bed, he and Max laughing and gaming into the early morning, and you knew he deserved this rest.

Just as you began to carefully sit up, you heard a soft rustling sound from the bedroom doorway. Peeking over, you spotted a small figure, a very familiar figure—a little silhouette with tousled hair, just like Lando’s, and sparkling eyes, trying best to tiptoe into the room. It was Thylane, with her tiny hands clutching her favorite blankie. You could see that she was struggling to hold back a giggle as she glanced over at her sleeping father.

Smiling, you brought a finger to your lips, silently shushing her. Thylane’s eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step, freezing in the doorway. You motioned gently for her to come closer to you, and she padded over quietly, looking up at you expectantly.

“Is Papa awake yet?” She whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

The eagerness in her tone made your heart swell, and you could not help but lean down, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“No, mon amour,” you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Papa had a very late night with Uncle Max. He needs his sleep, let’s let him rest a little longer, hm?”

Thylane nodded, her expression brightening at the thought of what you had in mind. “But it’s Papa’s birthday! I want to say happy birthday to him!”

“I know, my love. But how about we go to the kitchen, just you and me, and make a special birthday breakfast for Papa? Then we can surprise him together when he wakes up, and…” you paused, heart fluttering as you thought about the special surprise you had planned, one that you had kept to yourself until today. “And there’s something very exciting we’ll be giving him. Something you’re going to help me with, too.”

Her eyes lit up, and she bounced on her toes, already whispering with excitement. “What is it, Mama?”

“You’ll see, mon petit trésor,” you murmured with a soft smile. “It’s a surprise just as much for you as it is for your Papa. Now, come on.”

You grabbed your silk robe by the vanity chair and put it on. Taking Thylane’s little hand in yours, you casted a quick glance back at Lando. You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, lingering just a moment. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and for a heartbeat, you just admired the peaceful look on his face, hoping he would carry that warmth with him when he awoke to find you both by his side. Then you carefully lifted Thylane into your arms to keep her quiet and avoid the soft creaks of the floorboards as you slipped out of the room together.

You and Thylane moved quietly into the kitchen, both of you filled with anticipation. The kitchen was softly lit by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the countertops as you gathered everything you needed for Lando’s birthday breakfast, with Thylane already clutching the whisk with her small hands, her tongue poking out in concentration as she tried her best to mix the batter for the pancakes.

“Like this, Mama?” She asked, glancing up at you, her face bright with determination.

“Oui, parfait, mon ange,” you replied, ruffling her hair lightly. “Now, tu peux ajouter les blueberries. Add the blueberries, like this.” You handed her a small bowl of plump blueberries, showing her how to fold them gently into the batter.

She followed your instructions very carefully, not wanting to ruin Lando’s surprise, her little fingers pushing each blueberry into the mix with care, her eyes darting to you every so often to check if she was doing it right.

“Is Papa going to love it?” She whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Of course Papa’s going to love it because you made it for him,” you assured her, watching her face break into a wide grin. “Now, pass me the flour, please—la farine. Careful, don’t spill.”

With both hands, Thylane picked up the small bag of flour and brought it over, the look of focus never leaving her face. She had switched to a more serious demeanor, taking her role as your little sous-chef very seriously.

“Here, Mama!” She said proudly, handing it to you as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“Merci, mon trésor,” you replied, taking the flour and measuring out the right amount for the batter. “Okay, now you can stir again, doucement, like this.” You demonstrated, letting her hands follow yours as you guided her through the gentle motions.

When the pancakes were stacked high on a plate, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup, you and Thylane both stood back, admiring your creation.

“Look at what we made together,” you said softly, squeezing Thylane’s shoulder. “Papa will be very happy.”

Thylane clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Can we give it to him now?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head, a smile forming on your lips. “There’s one more surprise we need to get ready.”

Walking over to the drawer, you retrieved the small acrylic box, some soft cloth, and your carefully wrapped pregnancy test. Thylane’s brows furrowed as she watched you, her head tilting with curiosity.

“What’s that, Mama?” She asked, peering closely at the box as you placed the soft cloth inside.

“This, my love, is a very special surprise for Papa,” you knelt down so that you were eye-level with her, placing the test in the box atop the folded cloth. “Do you remember how you told me you wanted to have a little brother or sister?”

Thylane’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes! Yes! Does this mean…”

“Yes, Tilly. This means you’re going to be a big sister.” You smiled warmly at her.

Her face lit up, her mouth forming a perfect little “O” of excitement. “Really, Mama? I get a baby brother or sister?”

“Yes, mon trésor,” you nodded, laughing softly at her reaction. “We don’t know yet if it’s a brother or sister, but the baby is here, right inside Mama’s tummy, just a little peanut for now.”

Thylane’s eyes went wide with wonder, and she pressed her small hands to your stomach as if she was trying to feel the baby herself.

“A baby peanut!” She giggled, delight shining in her face. “Can we call the baby that for now?”

“Of course,” you chuckled, brushing her hair back. “Until we know more, we can call your little sibling, baby peanut.” She grinned, clearly enamored with the idea, and watched carefully as you tied the ribbon around the box with care.

“Can I help with the ribbon?” She asked, her hand already reaching out eagerly.

“Of course, here.” You said, guiding her hand as she carefully looped the ribbon around, tightening it with a gentle tug and finishing it off in a neat bow.

“Where should we put it, Mama?” She asked, glancing around the room.

You took a quick look at the cozy space, then pointed to a spot on the kitchen counter, just out of Lando’s immediate line of sight.

“Right here,” you decided, setting the box down gently. “That way, Papa won’t see it right away.”

Thylane nodded, grinning widely. “I can’t wait to see Papa’s reaction!”

With breakfast prepared and the surprise box tucked safely out of sight, you and Thylane made your way back to the bedroom, eager to wake up the birthday boy. By now, the sun had fully risen, casting a warm glow across the room as you nudged the door open to your and Lando’s bedroom. You expected to see Lando still sleeping peacefully, but instead, he was already awake, propped up on pillows with his phone in his hand, scrolling with a sleepy smile on his face.

Before you could say anything, Thylane let out a squeal of excitement and sprinted towards the bed, practically launching herself onto him. Lando barely had time to react before she pounced, wrapping her arms around his neck and showering Lando’s face with small kisses.

“Happy birthday, Papa! Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” She chanted, each word punctuated with a giggling kiss to Lando’s cheeks, forehead, and nose. Lando can’t help but laugh, his eyes crinkling with joy as he pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Tilly!” He replied, chuckling as he looked up at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a special wake-up call on my birthday before.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her face flushed with pride. “I made you a biiiiig birthday card last night! It’s pink, and has lots of hearts and sparkles on it, and I even drew a race car!”

“Woah, a race car? Just for me? Now that is one special card,” he said, brushing a few stray curls behind her ear as he smiled up at her. “I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s the best card in the whole world.”

Giggling, Thylane seated herself on top of his stomach, her little hands resting on his chest as she looked down at Lando with pure adoration. You leaned against the doorway, laughing at the sweet sight in front of you before walking over to the bed and settling down beside Lando.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, but laced with affection. “I’m so happy that I get to spend my birthday with my favorite girls.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. “Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered, smiling against his lips before pulling back just slightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Lando grinned, puckering his lips again, silently asking for another kiss. Laughing, you leaned down, giving him another soft kiss, feeling his hand come up to gently cup your cheek. In that moment, it was just the three of you, wrapped in warmth and love, as if nothing else in the world existed. As you pulled back, Thylane let out a little giggle, pointing at the two of you with a mischievous grin.

“Ew, Mama and Papa!” She teased, though her face betrayed nothing but happiness.

Lando laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Hey, I deserve a birthday kiss, don’t I?”

“Papa! Mama and I made you a special breakfast!” She announced, clapping her hands. “We worked really, really hard. I even put the blueberries in all by myself!”

“No way! You mean to tell me you were my chef this morning, too?” Lando ticked her side, making her dissolve into giggles.

Thylane laughed, wiggling under his tickling fingers. “Yes, I’m your chef today! Mama showed me how to make everything.”

“Well, now I definitely have to see what my two favorite girls cooked up,” he said, sitting up slowly.

Lando reached over, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close, then lifted Thylane into his other arm. She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling her head against Lando’s shoulder. As the three of you made your way to the kitchen, Lando kept his arm secure around your waist, pulling you close as Thylane chattered excitedly about breakfast.

“Mama taught me how to fold in the blueberries so they wouldn’t smush!” She said proudly. “And we made a big stack of pancakes with syrup and blueberries and…oh! And I even helped tie a bow for your present!”

Lando gave you a curious look over Thylane’s shoulder. “A present, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “I’m starting to think you two were up to a lot more than just breakfast this morning.”

“Hm, maybe we were,” you replied, smiling playfully as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair back. “But you’ll have to be patient to find out.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Well, I don’t know how much patience I have today. I mean, it is my birthday.”

Laughing, you reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Good things come to those who wait, birthday boy.”

The three of you entered the kitchen, where the table was set with the special breakfast you and Thylane had made. Lando’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in, and Thylane beamed with pride, practically bouncing in his arms.

“Happy birthday, Papa!” She exclaimed one last time, her voice full of love and excitement, her little arms squeezing him tightly.

With Lando’s arm around you, and Thylane hugging him with all her might, it was clear to you that this birthday morning could not have started off any sweeter.

Breakfast was a cozy, peaceful affair, the three of you wrapped in the simplicity of the morning. You and Lando chatted about plans for his birthday dinner later, throwing around ideas and laughing at each other’s jokes, while Thylane happily watched her favorite show on her iPad, humming along with the familiar theme song of Little Einsteins. It was a gentle scene, just the three of you? Sharing a quiet, joyful space as the morning sun spilled across the table.

Lando seemed perfectly content, caught up in the warmth of the moment. He had almost forgotten about the small gift waiting for him, tucked away in the kitchen—until you stood up, brushing a gentle hand across his shoulder.

“Wait here for a sec,” you said softly, a hint of excitement in your voice. “Tilly, come help me with something for Papa.”

Thylane’s face lit up as she hopped down from her chair, glancing at you with a secretive smile. She knew exactly what was coming next. Taking her hand, you led her back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to see Lando watching you both with a look of fond curiosity. He seemed completely oblivious to what was coming.

You reached into the cozy corner of the counter, pulling out the small, acrylic box you had hidden away with so much care. Inside, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth, was the positive pregnancy test. You knelt down, handing the box to Thylane, who held it carefully with wide, shining eyes.

“Okay, mon ange,” you whispered, giving her a gentle smile. “Give this to Papa, and make sure he opens it.”

She nodded, taking the box in her hands as if it were a treasure. Together, you walked back to the dining area, where Lando was watching you both with growing curiosity.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

Thylane held out the box, her excitement barely contained. Lando took the acrylic box, glancing from her to you, a mixture of awe and confusion on his face.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. “Go on,” you said, voice soft with anticipation. “Open it.”

“Open it, Papa! Open it!” She echoed, bouncing slightly on her toes, her face brimming with excitement.

Lando carefully untied the delicate ribbon that Thylane had helped you with that morning, his fingers moving slowly as if savoring the moment. The box felt light in his hands, and his expression shifted from curiosity to wonder as he lifted the lid, pulling away the cloth inside. The instant he saw the test, his eyes widened, and Lando looked up at you with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Is this…” he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he was afraid he might shatter the moment. “Is this real? Is this for real?”

You nodded, unable to contain your own smile as you squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, love. It is real.” You watched his face light up as the reality of it washed over him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” You added softly, feeling your own heart swell with happiness.

Lando did not hesitate. He stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off of your feet, twirling you in a gentle circle. His laugh was warm and filled with immense happiness so pure that it brought tears to your eyes.

“After all this time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotions as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’re really going to have another baby?” You nodded, laughing through your tears.

“I found out a few weeks ago, when you were in Mexico. I wanted to wait until today to tell you.” You placed a hand on his cheeks, gazing up at him with all the love you had been holding back for weeks. “It took everything in me not to tell you the moment I found out.”

He kissed you softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered. “Thank you for waiting, love. This…this is literally the best birthday gift I’ve ever had.”

“Papa, did you see? It’s real!” She said, beaming and clapping her hand, while bouncing in happiness. “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister! I told Mama I want to call them baby peanut!”

“Baby peanut, huh?” Lando chuckled, bending down to lift Thylane into his arms, bringing her close to the two of you. Kissing her forehead, and looking at you with a grin. “I think that’s a perfect name, for now.”

“Papa, can we tell everyone? All our friends?” Thylane’s face lit up at the thought, and she looked back and forth between you and Lando.

“Soon, Tilly. But for now, let’s keep it our little secret, okay? Just between us.” He leaned down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That way, we can keep baby peanut all to ourselves a little longer.”

“Our little secret!” She nodded seriously, her eyes wide as she held her finger to her lips. “I’m really good at secrets, Papa. I won’t tell anyone!”

You all just stood there, basking in the warmth and happiness of the quiet moment, Lando had never felt a new kind of peace settle over him. This was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of. A family, life filled with love and laughter, and now, another little one on the way.

Lando let Thylane down, letting her run towards the living room to play with her toys. He reached out, threading his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze, and kissing it softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking a little bit. “For this, for everything. You’ve given me the greatest gift of all.”

You squeezed his hand back, your own eyes shining with emotion. “I love you,” you murmured. “Happiest birthday, my love.”

As Lando held you closely, he realized that this was a happiness beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

[51voices]

Rumor Has it

Kinkvember Day 12: Size Queen

ITZY Lee Chaeryeong x Male reader

“I can’t believe I’m with ITZY’s Chaeryeong,” the man murmured, voice heavy with disbelief as his eyes roamed her flushed face. “You’re just so hot,” he added, the words tumbling out in a way that was meant to be flattering but only served to deepen the emptiness settling in her chest. His awe should have kindled something—pride, excitement, even a fleeting sense of satisfaction—but it barely registered.

Chaeryeong lay on the unfamiliar bed, her body half-sunken into the cushions as he moved rhythmically, each thrust marked by an urgency that lacked any real warmth. His hands skimmed over her skin with a mechanical precision, more rote than passionate, as if he were caught up in the idea of her rather than the moment they shared. His breath came in shallow, heated bursts against her collarbone, but rather than igniting any spark within her, it only deepened the creeping impatience that gnawed at her.

Detachment wrapped around her like a cold wave, numbing her senses until it felt as though she were watching herself from above, disconnected and distant. The cracked, faded ceiling above was far more familiar, more interesting than the man whose movements quickened, already nearing the climax of their encounter.

The scene was painfully predictable, an act she could have performed in her sleep. The pattern was always the same: meet a guy, revel in the spark of attraction, then watch that spark die the moment intimacy began. It wasn’t their lack of effort; many were charming, practiced, saying and doing all the right things. But beneath the flattery, the skilled movements, and the whispered praises, there was only the same worn-out script she had seen unfold too many times to count.

He caught her gaze, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. “I knew you’d be this wild,” he said, tracing a line down her side as if her silence was proof of his prowess. Chaeryeong’s lips curved into a slight, practiced smile—just enough to maintain the illusion. She knew what he was looking for: affirmation, a performance. It was easier to provide it than let him glimpse the blankness she felt inside.

“Tell me how good this feels," he whispered, voice thick with self-assured pride as he pushed forward. The words fell over her, hollow and ineffective, their intended power dissolving before it could ignite even a flicker of genuine response. She knew men like him all too well—the ones who craved validation, whose confidence was built on a steady diet of praise. They lived for these moments, hungry for reassurances that fed their ego as much as any touch or fleeting glance.

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, carefully calibrating her voice to mimic desire. Inside, the chasm of disinterest yawned wider, swallowing any pretense of excitement. His movements grew more erratic and rushed, signaling the approach of the end. Each gasp, each strained promise of how he would make her feel, only deepened her impatience. Her eyes wandered to the wall, where the paint peeled in thin, curling strips.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he gasped, voice ragged as he tensed, releasing with a final, shuddering exhalation. The warmth splattered across her stomach, sudden and uncomfortable against her skin. He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, eyes closed with a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. The silence that followed pressed down on her, suffocating and familiar.

Chaeryeong stared at the ceiling, her expression unchanged, irritation simmering beneath her blank exterior. The mess was just another inconvenience, another reminder of how detached she felt from the entire experience. She sat up, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table, each swipe across her skin sharp with annoyance. The sticky remnants clung stubbornly, and she fought the urge to let out a sigh as she wiped it clean.

“That was amazing, you loved it, didn’t you?” he said, the lazy grin on his face matched only by the certainty in his voice. He looked up at her, eyes glinting with a kind of self-congratulation that made her jaw tighten.

“Yeah,” she said absently, the word slipping out devoid of meaning. She crumpled the tissue and tossed it into the trash with more force than necessary, already turning her attention to putting her clothes back on. The quicker she dressed, the sooner she could escape the weight of his gaze and the aftermath of a night that felt like just another checkbox ticked.

“You’re leaving?” His tone shifted, a hint of surprise breaking through his post-coital haze.

“Yeah, something came up,” she said, already buttoning her jeans and reaching for her jacket. She didn’t spare him a glance, the cool air from the hallway whispering in as she opened the door.

“Oh, well… okay. I guess I’ll see you around?” The words trailed after her, carrying the echo of confusion and a touch of disappointment.

“Maybe,” she muttered, stepping into the hallway. The door closed behind her, muffling his presence, and she let out a silent breath. The street outside stretched dark and quiet, the distant hum of traffic soothing in its consistency. With each step away, the encounter faded into the background, another scene in a cycle she was desperate to break.

-----

The next day, Chaeryeong walked into the studio, the weight of last night’s disconnection lingering around her like an unwelcome shadow. The steady thump of music in the background was a familiar comfort, its rhythmic beat grounding her as she stepped into the safe haven of dance practice. Here, she could shed the emptiness, rediscovering herself in the movements and the sweat.

As she moved down the hallway, she nearly bumped into you—a newer dancer known for your laid-back, shy demeanor that had a certain charm. The unexpected encounter made her pause, and she blinked up at you, adjusting the strap of her bag with an almost self-conscious touch.

“Oh, hey,” you said, eyes widening with surprise before a soft, genuine smile spread across your face. Your voice carried a hint of nervousness, but it was endearing, a reflection of your gentle nature.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone casual but warm. Chaeryeong had seen you before, exchanged a few words here and there, but your interactions were always routine—comfortable, familiar, but devoid of any real thrill or spark. Still, there was something grounding about your presence, an easy reliability in an industry full of fleeting faces and shallow exchanges.

“How’s it going?” you asked, shifting the strap of your own bag and glancing at her with a mix of shyness and openness.

“Good,” Chaeryeong answered with a brief look toward her makeup room. “Just getting ready for practice.”

“Same here,” you said with a small, awkward chuckle, nodding toward the practice room behind you. “Well, I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, see you,” she echoed, stepping past you as the moment seamlessly blended into the rest of her day.

Settling into her makeup chair, Chaeryeong projected an air of calm as the room buzzed around her with practiced chaos. Stylists moved efficiently, tugging at her hair and trimming stray ends while she scrolled through her phone, barely registering the cascade of notifications on the screen. Despite the morning’s encounter, her mind drifted back to the comforting rhythm of dance, where she could momentarily leave everything else behind.

A sudden murmur of gossip cut through the ambient chatter, the tone sharp enough to catch her attention.

“Did you hear about the new dancer?” one stylist whispered, drawing out her words as if relishing their weight.

Chaeryeong’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral, eyes glued to her phone as though she hadn’t heard.

“Oh yeah,” another stylist chimed in, her red lipstick as bold as the knowing smile she wore. “They say he’s... well, really well-endowed.” She stretched out the last words, savoring the ripple of reactions they prompted and darting her eyes around for signs of who was listening.

Heat crept up Chaeryeong’s neck, her cheeks warming despite her best attempt at indifference. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the stylists exchanging conspiratorial looks, their excitement palpable. She focused back on her phone, but the whispered words replayed in her mind, stubbornly refusing to fade.

“Where did you hear that?” a third stylist asked, her eyes wide as if this were the juiciest piece of news in weeks.

“Someone in the wardrobe department,” the second stylist replied, leaning in conspiratorially. “They saw him changing during a show. It was... unmistakable.”

Unmistakable. The word lodged itself in Chaeryeong’s mind. She scolded herself for the flicker of interest that sparked within her. It’s just gossip, she reminded herself. But the allure of whispered secrets had a way of sticking, no matter how much she tried to brush them off.

Chaeryeong attempted to shake off the chatter, but it clung to her thoughts, feeding her curiosity. She opened a recent group photo on her phone from a past shoot, eyes scanning your face, searching for... what, exactly? She didn’t know. The absurdity of it made her bite back a sigh.

She locked her screen and set her phone down, chastising herself. This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to push the rumor out of her mind. But it lingered at the edges, a persistent tickle she couldn’t quite dismiss.

A few days later, Chaeryeong found herself tucked into a quiet corner of a café, a rare escape from the whirlwind of studio life. The hum of coffee machines and the clinking of cups provided a soothing backdrop, calming her frayed nerves. She took a slow sip of her latte, savoring the warmth that radiated through her.

Her peace was short-lived. From a nearby table, lively voices cut through the mellow atmosphere. Natty and Julie, two bright junior members of Kiss of Life, were leaning into each other, their laughter infectiously carefree. Their energy filled the small café, vibrant and uncontainable.

Chaeryeong wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but their excitement was impossible to ignore.

“So... have you heard about the hot topic recently?” Natty’s eyes were wide, her voice tinged with thrill.

Julie’s grin widened as she lowered her voice. “Oh my God, yes! Everyone’s talking about it. You mean... the rumor?”

Chaeryeong’s fingers drummed lightly against her mug. She’d heard variations of this story a hundred times before—momentary bursts of intrigue that swirled through the industry, more smoke than fire. Yet, there was something magnetic about the way these whispers spread. No matter how hard she tried to tune out, the animated tones and shared glances drew her in.

“Yeah, you know... the rumor,” Natty said, barely suppressing her giggles.

Julie leaned back, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “Honestly, I kind of want to see if it’s true.”

Natty’s eyes widened, shock mixed with amusement. “Wait, what? You’re actually thinking of... finding out?”

A daring glint crossed Julie’s face. “Why not? Everyone’s acting like he’s some kind of god. He’s always so nice and friendly. It wouldn’t be that hard to get close.”

Natty shook her head, half-amused, half-incredulous. “You’re wild! What if it’s not true? Or worse, what if it is?”

Julie’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s what makes it fun! I’m not just going to ask him, obviously. But if the opportunity comes up... why not?”

Chaeryeong took another sip of her coffee, pretending to focus on the view outside. The boldness of youth was something she recognized from her own early days. They were fearless, driven by curiosity and the thrill of what-ifs. But she knew better now. Rumors had a way of spiraling, turning curiosity into consequences.

Yet, their conversation lingered in her thoughts, winding its way into the quiet spaces of her mind. Could there be any truth to it? It was absurd, but the question gnawed at her. She tried to brush it off as idle curiosity, but the story held on like a stubborn melody.

With a sigh, Chaeryeong set down her mug and stood, casting a glance back at Natty and Julie. They were still deep in conversation, laughter bubbling over as they reveled in their world of daring and speculation. Their faces were bright, full of life untouched by the cynicism that came with years in the industry.

As Chaeryeong stepped into the crisp autumn air, a bemused smile tugged at her lips. Maybe, in their own ways, everyone was searching for a little excitement, a hint of truth buried in the glitz and chaos. In the unpredictable realm of K-pop, who wouldn’t want to peek behind the curtain to find out what was real?

-----

On a quiet afternoon, Chaeryeong sprawled across the cool floor of the practice room, her body still humming from hours of intense rehearsal. The mingling scents of sweat and faint traces of perfume filled the air, and the ache in her muscles was a satisfying reminder of her hard work. For a brief moment, silence settled over the room, seeping into her exhaustion and offering a rare sense of peace.

The stillness was broken by the soft, deliberate clicks of Ryujin’s phone. Every few moments, Ryujin’s lips would curl into a smirk, her eyes flickering with amusement as she scrolled through whatever had caught her attention. Chaeryeong, trying to focus on stretching out her legs, found herself drawn to the subtle shifts in Ryujin’s expression.

“What’s got you giggling?” Chaeryeong asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. She lifted an arm over her head, feeling the pull in her shoulder, though the stretch couldn’t quite outmatch the intrigue sparked by Ryujin’s grin.

“Oh, just some juicy gossip,” Ryujin replied, snapping her phone shut and looking up with a mischievous glint. “You’ve heard the latest about him, haven’t you?”

Chaeryeong raised an eyebrow, her heart giving a small, involuntary skip. “I’ve heard bits and pieces. What’s new?”

Ryujin leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, rumor has it things have taken an… interesting turn.”

Chaeryeong found herself inching closer, her interest piqued. “Interesting how?”

“Remember that new staff member from production? Long hair, brunette, always with the clipboard?” Ryujin’s voice dropped even further as Chaeryeong nodded, recalling the confident, polished woman who’d been around the studio lately. “Apparently, she tried to hook up with him, but it didn’t go as planned.”

Chaeryeong’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Ryujin savored the suspense, a smile playing on her lips. “She called it off halfway through. Said it was ‘too much’ for her.”

Chaeryeong’s mouth fell open in disbelief, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. “You’re serious?”

Ryujin’s nod was triumphant. “Completely. She’s been avoiding him ever since.” The way Ryujin spoke made it clear she found the entire thing endlessly entertaining. “Can you imagine? She didn’t even finish!”

Chaeryeong leaned back, trying to process the bizarre twist. Until now, the rumors had been little more than idle chatter, a way to pass the time between rehearsals. But this? This felt different—specific, almost too wild to be entirely made up.

“That’s beyond crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “So she really just… walked away?”

Ryujin’s smile widened. “Too intense for her, apparently. Makes the rumor even juicier, right?”

Chaeryeong chuckled, fingers brushing her forehead as if to clear the strangeness from her thoughts. She’d always seen you as quiet and reserved, an enigma wrapped in an unassuming presence. You’d danced beside her, shared jokes and casual conversations, but now it felt like a veil of mystery had fallen over you, changing how she saw you.

Ryujin noticed the flicker of interest in Chaeryeong’s eyes and pounced on it. “Not curious at all?”

Chaeryeong scoffed, though a faint warmth crept up her neck. “It’s just gossip. Things like this always get exaggerated.”

Ryujin laughed knowingly. “Maybe. But admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know. And who’s to say there isn’t some truth hidden in there?”

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes, trying to brush off Ryujin’s teasing, but a reluctant smile played on her lips. “Okay, maybe I’m a little curious,” she conceded.

“Exactly,” Ryujin said, leaning back with a victorious nod. “And who knows? You’ve worked with him more than anyone. If anyone can figure out what’s real, it’s you.”

Chaeryeong’s expression turned wary. “Are you suggesting I go looking for answers?”

“Not exactly,” Ryujin replied with a wink. “But it wouldn’t hurt to keep your eyes open. You never know what you might find.”

As Chaeryeong stood up, stretching her arms high above her head, the tension in her muscles eased, but a new kind of tension lingered in her mind. “I’m not getting caught up in this,” she said, trying to sound resolute.

Ryujin’s smirk deepened. “Sure. Just don’t blame me when you can’t stop wondering.”

Chaeryeong’s gaze drifted across the empty room. Though she said nothing, her thoughts inevitably circled back to you—the unexpected center of a rumor that refused to fade. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to you than she had realized.

-----

In the days that followed, her resolve to ignore the gossip unraveled bit by bit. Every break in rehearsal, she’d catch snippets of whispered conversations, soft voices punctuated by the thrill of the latest gossip. The room seemed charged, the air thick with secrets woven together in webs of speculation, and the more she tried to tune it out, the more the curiosity gnawed at her.

It was a curious thing, the way her perception of you began to shift. In her mind, the once-awkward grin and boyish shyness you’d worn so easily took on a new, shadowed dimension. She’d always seen you as the soft-spoken one, the one who was quietly supportive, almost unassuming. But now, even a passing glance was tinged with the echo of those whispered stories, and each encounter left her feeling as if she’d glimpsed only a fraction of who you really were.

The questions pulsed in her thoughts, gaining a stubborn grip, no matter how often she told herself it was only idle gossip. What if the quiet you she’d known was only part of the story? What if there was a depth, a mystery lurking beneath the surface, a piece of you yet to be uncovered?

With every passing day, her curiosity transformed from a soft, passing thought into an itch that lingered, whispering at the back of her mind. And though she told herself to brush it aside, Chaeryeong couldn’t help but wonder. In a world built on appearances and carefully constructed images, maybe there was something real beneath all the stories. And maybe—just maybe—she’d find herself wanting to know who you truly were.

Then, one afternoon, it seemed as though fortune had finally aligned in her favor. Practice had stretched longer than usual, the group winding down and slowly dispersing in pairs or small clusters, chatter buzzing through the air. Chaeryeong, catching her breath near the edge of the practice room, happened to look up just as you turned the corner into the hallway, your figure briefly silhouetted against the light streaming in from the corridor.

Your gaze found hers, and in that brief, quiet exchange, you offered a shy, slightly lopsided smile—a familiar look that made her pulse skip, the awkward charm in it disarming and strangely magnetic. In that moment, something sparked in Chaeryeong’s chest, a flicker of boldness mixed with curiosity. Today, she insisted, I’ll find out more.

Whether it was the way you moved, calm and at ease despite the group’s lively presence, or the weight of the unanswered questions lingering in her mind, she couldn’t ignore the pull anymore. The hallway felt smaller, the walls pressing closer as she crossed the distance between you, her footsteps light but deliberate.

“Hey!” she called out, her tone casual but carrying a note of unmistakable purpose. You paused, a slight furrow of confusion forming on your brow as you turned. “Can you help me with something?” she asked, her smile warm but with a hint of mischief that made your eyes narrow in curiosity.

“Oh, uh… sure. What do you need?” you replied, polite and almost cautious, your tone laced with that familiar modesty she had come to expect from you.

“There’s something broken in my dressing room,” she replied, her tone smooth and casual as she gestured down the hallway. Ignoring the flicker of uncertainty that crossed your face, she took a step forward, inviting you to follow her. You hesitated, but soon enough, you fell into step beside her, the two of you making your way through the quiet corridor toward her dressing room.

Her heart pounded as you neared the door, the quiet intensity of her decision hitting her as she led you inside, closing the door behind. For a moment, you looked around, a faint confusion in your expression as you glanced around the small space.

“So… what exactly is broken?” you asked, your brow lifting as you scanned the room, clearly searching for any sign of damage.

A smile crept onto her face, playful and assured. “There’s nothing broken,” she said softly, watching as the realization dawned in your expression. “I just wanted to get you alone.”

Your eyes widened, surprise and hesitation crossing your face as you struggled to find a response. “Alone? I… I don’t really…”

She reached out, placing a hand on your arm in a gentle but firm gesture, her gaze steady. “You’ve probably heard the rumors about you,” she said, her voice quiet, laced with both curiosity and determination.

Your face flushed, a deep crimson that betrayed your nervousness, and you quickly averted your gaze. “I-I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” you stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, I do,” she replied, her voice lowering to a near-whisper, her breath warm and close. “And I’m curious.”

You blinked, taken aback, struggling to process her words. “Curious? About… about what?” Your voice was barely a murmur, your gaze flicking nervously between her face and the door.

“About whether the rumors are true,” she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made the air between you both feel electric. She could feel your hesitation, but she wasn’t about to back down—not now.

Your breath hitched, and you took a small step back, the uncertainty clear in your expression. “I… I don’t think this is a good idea, Chaeryeong.”

But she only smiled, undeterred by the protest, taking the soft reluctance as a sign that she was closer to the truth than she’d expected. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said softly, her gaze steady as she leaned in, her hand tracing a slow line down your arm.

Before you could voice another word of protest, she closed the space between you, capturing your lips with her own in a kiss that was unhurried but unmistakably confident. You froze, the surprise evident as her warmth pressed against you, but after a moment, your hands found her waist, responding with an uncertainty that melted into something softer, bolder.

When she pulled back, your breath was shallow, confusion and conflict swirling in your gaze as you looked at her, trying to find the words. “Chaeryeong, I… I don’t want you to think—”

She lifted a finger to your lips, silencing you with a soft shush. “You don’t have to explain anything. I want this.”

Your expression betrayed your uncertainty, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else—a tension, an attraction you seemed to be struggling to contain. “But… what if this isn’t—”

“Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her voice soft as her hand found yours, guiding it gently. Her fingers brushed against your skin, warm and light, and you felt the world around you blur, the small room shrinking to just the two of you. “Just show me.”

“Show you?” you repeated, the words barely escaping your lips as you tried to steady yourself, her gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity that felt almost like a challenge.

Her smirk widened, her hand trailing downward, brushing against you with a deliberate slowness that sent a surge of heat through the quiet room. “Show me what I’ve been hearing about.”

A heavy silence fell between you, your gaze flicking toward the door, conflicted but drawn in by the certainty in her eyes. Something shifted in you then—whether it was the thrill of the moment, the pull of her confidence, or the simple desire to finally let go of your restraint, you couldn’t tell. You nodded slowly, your hands moving to the buttons of your shirt, your breath shallow as her eyes followed every motion.

As the last button fell open, Chaeryeong’s gaze grew intense, her breath catching as she took you in. For a moment, the noise and tension of the studio outside felt like a distant memory, her curiosity and excitement heightening with each second. It’s real, she thought, the truth of all the whispers and gossip settling into place, striking her with a thrill she hadn’t fully expected.

"Wow the rumors are true," she whispered, stepping closer. Her hands gently guided you to sit on the plush couch. "I've been looking for someone to be able to fulfill my needs and you are formidable" she admitted, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper.

Sitting down, your heart pounded as Chaeryeong knelt before you. There was a moment of stillness, her eyes locked with yours, before she leaned in. Her breath was warm against your member as she began, her touch sending waves of electricity through your body.

She started slowly, her lips parting to take you in, her movements deliberate and gentle. You could feel her tongue, soft and exploratory, circling the tip before she took more of you into her mouth. The warmth, the wetness, it was overwhelming.

As Chaeryeong continued, she seemed to grow more empowered with each inch she took. Her eyes, when they met yours, were filled with a proud determination. She was proving something to herself as much as she was pleasuring you.

The air was thick with anticipation and the subtle scent of her exertion. She was focused, each movement more deliberate and bold than the last. Her determination was palpable, and you could see it in the way she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated.

Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, using your body for support as she pushed herself to take more of you. With each movement, she adjusted her technique, learning as she went, adapting to the situation with a skill that only came from experience and a deep understanding of her craft.

You could feel the tension building in the room as she took more of you, sinking deeper with each thrust. Her breathing became heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of her exertion, mingling with the sound of her lips against your skin. Her hair brushed against your thighs as she moved, a soft and sensual contrast to the firmness of her grip.

Finally, she reached the base, her lips pressed against you as she took all of you in. It was a moment of pure intimacy and connection, a testament to her skill and dedication. And as she held you there, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and respect for the woman before you.

The feeling of your entire body being enveloped by warmth and tightness was overwhelming. You could feel the muscles of their throat contracting and relaxing around you, creating an indescribable level of pleasure that left you trembling. The sensation of being so completely encased was both thrilling and intimidating, and you couldn't help but let out a gasp of disbelief.

"No one has ever taken me so well before," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion and desire. Your words were muffled, but still understandable, as you were still buried deep within them. You could hear the surprise and satisfaction in your own voice, and it only served to heighten your arousal.

The experience was so intense and all-consuming that you found it hard to think or speak clearly. You were lost in a sea of pleasure, your mind and body fully focused on the sensations coursing through you. You couldn't believe the level of arousal from being completely inside Chaeryeong's throat. 

She paused for a brief moment, pulling back slowly with a satisfied, almost victorious smile gracing her lips. Her eyes slightly teary but gleamed with a sense of pride and accomplishment, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. In a way, she had discovered exactly how to please you in a manner that was unique to her.

She plunged back down, enveloping your shaft once again with her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue danced and swirled around your member, exploring every inch with a curiosity that was both exhilarating and arousing. The rhythm she employed was methodical and precise, building up a steady momentum that left you breathless and wanting more.

Chaeryeong's technique was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. She moved with a confidence and fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she had been practicing this art for centuries. Every movement was deliberate and calculated, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your body.

As she continued to work her magic, you could feel the tension building way too quick, like a coiled spring ready to burst. your muscles tensed and released, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to maintain control. But it was no use she had you under her spell, and there was nothing you could do but surrender to the inevitable.

Without warning, the peak arrived embarrassingly quickly, your body tensed up as you surrendered to the intense climax. A wave of pleasure washed over you from head to toe. Crying out her name, your fingers tangled in her hair, pushing her deeper as you rode out the high. Chaeryeong, who was completely dedicated to the moment, took you in as deeply as she could, her jaw stretched wide open to its maximum capacity. However, even with her best efforts, some of your release managed to escape past her lips, leaving a glistening trail that made its way down her chin. The sight of it was incredibly arousing, and it was clear that Chaeryeong had given her all to the moment, creating an unforgettable experience that would be etched in your memory for a long time.

She sat back on her heels, a look of satisfaction and slight surprise on her face as swallowed as much of your release as possible, savoring the taste as she wiped the corner of her mouth. Her chest heaved, not just from the physical exertion, but from the thrill of her achievement.

"Fuck, I cant wait to have you in my guts," she said, her voice a mix of pride and a playful challenge.

You could only nod, still reeling from the intensity, your mind buzzing with the intimacy of the moment.

As she straddled you with a grace that belied her iron will, the air around you thickened with anticipation. "I told you, I'm not like the others," she murmured, her voice a sultry blend of promise and challenge that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the room. "I'm going to take it all, every inch of you."

Chaeryeong reached down and positioned you member along her toned tummy. the outline of your shaft reaching past her belly button and the sight only seemed to heighten her arousal. She lifted herself up and placed your tip right at her entrance. As the first surge of her entry made contact, a sharp and searing connection coursed through both of you, a potent mixture of challenge and exhilaration. Ugh, finally the words echoed in her mind, a silent testament to the culmination of her relentless pursuit.

Her body's response to your formidable presence was visceral, yielding and stretching in a way that was almost overwhelming. It was a threshold moment, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into a singular, exquisite sensation. The initial sting of the stretch was rapidly eclipsed by a rush of empowerment, a triumphant defiance that scoffed at any hint of intimidation.

As each second ticked by, she experienced a growing sense of command and authority over the situation. She welcomed the intensity, the complexity, and the overwhelming power of the experience, using it to bolster her confidence and firm her resolve.

The moment was profound for both of you, a shared experience of vulnerability and intimacy that neither had encountered before. As you moved together in a rhythm as old as time, there was a sense of exploration, a journey into the uncharted territories of each other's bodies and souls.

For you, the sensation was overwhelmingly new. The initial penetration was a revelation, the heat of her inner walls enveloped you, the tightness and the pulsating warmth bonded you to her in a way words could scarcely capture. Every inch was cradled by her as you became one. It was as if the very essence of your being was being drawn out, channeled through the physical connection that tethered you to her.

While for Chaeryeong, the experience was equally transformative. She felt a stretching, a yielding of her deepest self to accommodate your presence. The depths of her womb were stirred as if from a long slumber. It was as though ancient, primal instincts were roused, acknowledging the potential of creation that lay within the act.

Her body responded with a knowing of its own, a subtle undulation that seemed to draw you in further, inviting you to explore the innermost sanctum of her being. With each movement, she felt more alive, more in tune with the ebbs and flows of her own desire, mirroring the dance of life itself.

Her breaths grew deeper, her grasp tightened, and her spirit soared. She reveled in the realization that she was not merely a passive participant in this dance of passion—she was the masterful conductor, leading them both in this symphony of sensation and connection.

With every sinuous sway of her hips, Chaeryeong's dominance unfurled like a nocturnal bloom, each movement a testament to her unyielding control. She danced a dance of power that commanded the space around her, her body moving with a precision and intent that was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice, rich and velvety, wove a sultry symphony that resonated with the raw essence of confidence and command, her words hanging in the air like a seductive incantation.

"Ugh, fuck you're huge," she murmured, her breaths short and quick from the exertion of her rhythmic movements. "You'll never feel this good with anyone else." Her words, laced with a potent blend of pleasure and cunning seduction, curled into the air like tendrils of smoke, captivating the senses and ensnaring the mind. In that moment, Chaeryeong was the embodiment of dominance, her presence an indomitable force that rewrote the rules of engagement, leaving an indelible mark on the soul.

Your gaze was locked onto the vision before you—Chaeryeong's face, a canvas of pure pleasure, her body undulating with a rhythm that resonated deep within your being. A moan escaped your lips, a testament to the desire that was building like a crescendo within you.

She sensed your struggle, the battle to maintain control as you teetered on the brink of something monumental. "Look at you," she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress your soul. Her fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, a touch that was both tender and tantalizing. "I'm making you feel so good, aren't I?"

Her words were a silken web, ensnaring you in a trap of yearning from which there was no escape. "You're going to lose yourself in me, aren't you?" she continued, a hint of satisfaction threading through her tone. "After this, you won't want anyone else. You’ll be mine."

Your grip tightened around her waist, a futile attempt to anchor yourself amidst the tumultuous sea of sensations. "I... I can't hold back much longer, Chaeryeong," you confessed, the urgency in your voice betraying your helplessness.

Her smirk was a promise of the inevitable, her movements an expertly choreographed invitation to let go. "Oh, why would you hold back? I want to feel every last bit of you inside me," she teased, her own excitement evident in the catch of her breath.

The air between you crackled with electricity, each touch, each movement fueling the fire that raged within. The rhythm of your union grew ever more insistent, a siren's call to the depths of abandon. "I won’t be able to stop," you managed to utter, a final warning as your eyes locked with hers, the last vestiges of your resolve dissolving under the weight of your need for her.

Chaeryeong's response was a whisper that scorched your ear and sent a fresh cascade of desire down your spine. "That’s exactly what I want. Show me how much you need me," she commanded, her voice a low thrum that resonated with the primal beat of your hearts.

With a renewed fervor, she moved against you, her hips a maelstrom of motion that drove you both inexorably toward the precipice. The world outside this room ceased to exist; only the two of you remained, entwined and moving as one. The couch beneath you protested faintly, its legs scraping against the floor—a mere whisper compared to the symphony of your mingled breaths and the roar of passion that enveloped you.

"Cum for me," she urged, her voice a blend of triumph and anticipation. "Show me you’re mine."

With a final, surrendering thrust, you reached the zenith of pleasure, your voice breaking in a raw, primal cry as ecstasy consumed you. "I'm cumming," you declared, your body a conduit for the overwhelming surge of release that coursed through every nerve.

The room was thick with the scent of passion, a musky perfume that clung to the air and enveloped the two entwined figures. Chaeryeong's breaths came in short, sharp gasps. Her body, slick with the exertion of their shared dance, moved with an urgency that matched the pounding of her heart, a drumbeat that seemed to echo the rhythm of their lovemaking.

As she surrendered to the waves of her climax, she found herself immersed in an ocean of bliss, her body quivering beneath the relentless surge of rapture. "Yes! I'm cumming! Fill me up" she screamed, her cries a declaration of victory.

Each pump of your seed overflowing within her propelled her to new heights, a sensation that had once been merely a fantastical dream, now vividly experienced. Her body convulsed and succumbed to the intensity, her cries intermingling with the potent atmosphere of the room, culminating in an intoxicating sensory symphony. At long last, she had discovered the pinnacle of her sexual quest, the ultimate fulfillment that had eluded her until this moment of unbridled surrender.

Her fingers, like talons, clawed at your chest, not out of aggression but from a primal need to mark you as hers. She sought to erase the boundaries between you, to blur the lines until there was no her, no you, but a singular entity caught in the throes of passion. It was as if she believed that with enough force, enough desire, she could fuse your very essences together, creating a bond that transcended the physical realm.

As the warmth of the moment settled around you both, Chaeryeong’s fingers moved with slow, intentional strokes along your collarbone, lingering as if marking her place. She traced small circles over your skin, her touch both gentle and claiming, a wordless reminder that she held a special kind of control here. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering and filled with a spark of something deeper, a hint of possessive pride in the effect she had on you.

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice low and deliberate. “You know,” she murmured, each word sinking in with quiet intensity, “no one else could ever take you like I do.” Her fingers drifted to your jawline, holding you there as she spoke, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you in a way that felt intimate, almost territorial. “You’re mine now,” she added softly, her voice laced with a blend of warmth and certainty, as if she had no doubt of the truth in her words.

There was a satisfaction in her expression, a quiet, possessive pride that seemed to fill the space between you. Her hand found yours, and her grip tightened, an unspoken promise in the way her fingers intertwined with yours. “When you want this again”—she gave your hand a gentle squeeze—“you’ll know exactly where to find me.”

Her eyes never left yours, her gaze intense and steady as if binding you to her in an unbreakable vow. She leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was slow and lingering, a deliberate, possessive mark she left there like a signature, something to remember her by.

When she finally pulled away, the warmth of her core around your shaft vanished, replaced by the cold, empty air that only made you crave her all the more. As she rose, a trace of your seed slipped down from her glistening folds. The sight stirred something primal within you—a longing that went beyond desire, a need to be inside her again, to feel that consuming warmth at all times.

Her hand lingered on your chest as she looked down at you, her gaze satisfied yet somehow gentle, as if savoring the effect she’d left on you. Her fingers traced along your jaw, her touch warm and lingering, as if marking you with the memory of her presence.

With an effortless grace, she rose to her feet and cast one last, lingering look back at you. Her gaze held a quiet dominance, an unspoken assurance that the spark between you was entirely hers to command. She dressed herself swiftly, leaving the lingering trace of your essence inside her, a mark of the connection you’d just shared. And as she slipped away, her touch, her warmth, and the faint, visceral reminder of your bond wrapped around you like an invisible tether—one you knew you’d carry long after she was gone.

[arminsumi]

Another geto size kink vanilla smut please. I can't get enough. I always go back to reread yours it's so good

Oh, boyfriend Geto Suguru and his petite girl — who he's obsessed with.

+ warnings; size kink, panty-humping, some dirty talk

+ an; omg this was so yum to write, thank you for reminding me that Geto Suguru + a size kink exists 😋💗

Bf!Geto who's got one enormous hand resting on the small of your back during parties, his straight lips twisting into a grin when he looks down at you — a dirty grin that gets you tingly all over. Oh his heart lurches when you crane your neck to look back at him. As he commented when the two of you first met three years ago, "It's cute that you have to put in so much effort to look up at me."

... and pre-bf!Geto who used to randomly whisk you off your feet, big biceps twitching and flexing against your sides, as a 'joke' — yeah, yeah, it was just to surprise you. But he just wanted to have a sweet small girl in his arms, and wanted to show off how strong he was.

Just standing behind him and seeing his big broad back worked your imagination — how d'you think he'd look from the back while driving into your sloppy hole, how his muscles would flex?

And you know, Suguru was always aware each time you were staring even though you thought you were little miss slick, so of course he straightened out his posture — he had to remind you that he hits that 6'3 mark!

Bf!Geto's favorite thing is rubbing his thick fingers up and down your tiny clit through your innocent pink panties, making you shiver and twitch and whine in response to the subtlest friction as he's got you bent over his black-sheeted bed. It makes him smirk, it makes his cock stand stiff and upright in his pants, leaky cockhead dripping precum against his inner thigh.

It's in this bed that bf!Geto loves eating you out — of course, he likes to get you impatient, taking his time tying his hair up until you tug at the hem of his shirt and practically pull him into you for a hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that he just melts into. In minutes he's sliding down, big rough n' calloused hands prying your thighs apart, dragging you closer to his face like you weigh nothing — because you do weigh nothing to a big boy like him.

You're especially reminded of his size kink when he thumbs your pussy lips apart, or when he stuffs his thick fingers inside you, rubbing against your favorite spots like it's just a fun little game for him. Or when he thumbs your actual lips apart to explore your mouth a bit before sliding his fingers in — "Get 'em wet for me, baby." he murmurs, eager to feel your tiny mouth.

Bf!Geto loves squishing his cock against your slit, dividing your soft lips until they sandwich him. Of course, he acts so nonchalant, blowing his hair out of his face as he looks down at the pretty sight of your pussy getting dwarfed by his thick girth.

When his black, sultry eyes drift up to meet yours, you feel your stomach drop and your face heats up.

"Feel me pulsing, baby?" he teases, "Aw, sorry, I didn't mean to make you shy. No, come on, don't be shy — " he giggles, leaning in for a fat kiss. "You're so cute."

As the thick middle of his cock's sliding through your folds, his free hand meets yours and pins it down, holds it tight — did you see that? Did you catch the glimpse of his bicep twitching when he squeezed your hand?

bf!Geto still goes crazy each time you grind your pussy back on his cock as if it's the first time all over again. He lets out a hot breath, presses his cockhead tightly against your hole, and rubs so hard through your thong that he half-fucks it into your gushing pussy. They're totally ruined with gooey cum and sticky juices by the time he's done obsessively rubbing his cock against you.

And bf!Geto loves your tiny thongs, loves pulling them back and letting them snap against your holes when he's got you in reverse cowgirl.

And he just simply loves how much smaller your clothes are. When you and him weren't dating yet, he'd let you wear his big t-shirts or hoodies for sleepovers — only to choke and drool the next morning over the sight of little you in his big clothes.

bf!Geto's got thick, thick muscular thighs that press into the back of your plush, smaller thighs. And his long legs? He loved flirting joking "... I think I'm too tall for you — yeah we'd have a hard time having sex, huh?" long before you and him were dating.

And it's true. It's pretty difficult, getting railed by a 6'3 thick-muscled boy like him — that's why sometimes he just resorts to lifting you and fucking you while standing, weighting you against the wall with his whole body and each thrust of his cock.

[babybratzmaraj]

When we getting yo spin on Aaron Pierre frenn 👀👀👀

the time has come. YOU SHALL BE BLESSED

Any Time, Any Place

Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond

You as Yourself

Summary: You just had to fuck around and find out on this one particular night, the same night you and Terry go out!

Warnings: Possessiveness up the ass, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex, size kink, established relationship, im missing some but my coochie is rawring.

A/N: Now listen, ik you asked this like 2-3 months ago, but i told you it was coming! megan! um i thank ms big bertha for helping me finish this, i owe her one😏

This man, this man is something else. You and Terry went to his former military friend’s homecoming party! The vibes were great and everyone was nice to you! even got a ‘I see you nephew’ from one of the older ones.

But something about his glare, his hands feeling on you in public and more sultry in private, his kisses on your cheek leaving you flustered, too flustered to even finish the conversation with some of his friends. But you managed, tonight was a good night! The vibes were good, the music was amazing, even got new shit to add to your playlist! Your hair was dyed, fried, and laid to the side, the curls bouncing with every move you took, and the wind having the right amount of umph to blow it correctly, felt like a Disney princess. Too much of a princess, it wasn’t long till you two were pulled up behind a family dollar with your legs in the air, his eyes looking like what boiling water would feel like.

The whole night he was giving you glares, was to warn you, the hands that traveled your body, were to warn them, the private kisses were to remind you, but you didn’t pick up on nothing, poor you, you didn’t know! You were just enjoying people being friendly.

“I’m sorry!” you managed to cry aloud, his hands at the perfect spot to hold you in place, the faint but still strong scent of Gin tainted his lip, his strokes matching the mighty smell.

“I bet you are ma, but I can’t have you being friendly to these niggas.” he said ever so sweetly, slowing his strokes to match his tone, the feeling of feeling him twitch inside you drove you mad, the kisses he gave you trailing onto your neck once you couldn’t keep contact.

“I wasn’t trying to be niceee,” you tried to plead your case with tears of pleasure stinging your eyes, threatening to fall but it’ll mix well with the sweat that ruined your hair, it wasn't the only reason though. “Then what were you?”

You attempted to answer his question, jarring your lips to fix up a sentence, but you were too slow.

Terry slammed into you continually, each and every slam and thrust he gave you found a new place to dig out. His eyebrows furrowed as he lingered for your answer, knowing good and Christ juice you couldn’t answer. this nigga was evil.

He slammed into you once more resulting in you screaming, staying still in an attempt to not cum inside you, but you just looked too exquisite at this angle, the soft white light emitting from above shined across your face, your eyebrows scrunched, and your mouth permanently ajar.

“You can scream but can't answer? I said,” he began to repeat, slowly rocking his hips into you. “I don't know!”

“At least you're honest, that shit ain't cutting it.” He told you, maintaining his pace exactly where and how it was. His tone is mean yet delicate, his eyes still burning into your skin leaving different patches of hotness until your whole body warms up again.

“This my pussy right?” You nodded, “And Nobody will ever get it right?” you nodded your head obediently, “And nobody’s gonna take what's mine?” his voice nearly going primal, his pace quickening at the idea of someone attempting to take what was his.

“Nooooo,” You slurred on your words, drunk off his loving, high off this moment, rolling your eyes back to see your own little sky with stars with a biggg shooting star as your orgasm washed through you, your body jerking around violently as Terry held you steady, giving you two more pumps before sliding out, leaning back to watch you melt further into the backseat.

When you came to, you looked down to see Terry slowly stroking himself, “Knees.” He commanded, your knees buckled as you could hardly move but you obeyed, perking your ass up in the air, teasing him a little.

His hefty hand landed on your cheek a few times, each time leaving a pleasurable sting behind. You heard him shuffle behind you, lining himself up with your entrance, swiping your pussy with his dick making you clench over nothing.

“This your dick right? Show me.” Terry insisted, pushing only the tip driving you madly in love.

You slid down on him with ease, a guttural moan fleeing the two mouths as the feeling of being together again, feeling the chemistry oozing off of each other, it was something that couldn’t be replaced.

You grabbed a hold of the driver’s seat as you threw your ass back onto him, arching your back some more, the clapping intensified times ten.

“Fuckk,” Terry cursed lazily as he fucked you back, giving each cheek a little smacked turning that spot more redder, caressing the right one as the left one was left to die, that asshole!

You felt Terry's presence grow closer as his chest rested on your upper back. His left hand snaked around to keep your face to his as he attacked your lips, the taste of gin deepening your taste buds as you savor the flavor of him, moaning into his mouth.

His left hand released your face, kissing your back before pinning your face down onto the seat, his right hand placed in the small of your back, bending your back in a way you didn’t think it could bend.

He moaned deeply, his languidish strokes reminding you of one thing: This pussy was his and to never let another nigga think he has a chance. Truly, you learned from this experience but will try again when you recover from this in 7-10 business years.

You felt a familiar sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, Terry sensed this and evilly went deep, hitting all new spots as he damn near bottomed out in you. “I want you to cum on this dick and I want you to cum now.” but little did he know you were waiting on his approval.

You erupted into a screaming, shaking mess, the sounds of squelching and slapping of skin drowning out the music.

Terry gave you three sharp thrusts before nutting in you, painting your walls like you were a canvas, and it created a beautiful scene. Terry collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily into your ear feeling accomplished that he was able to go through with his ‘Punishment’ beating the last score of 3 to 7.

“I love you,” Terry said innocently, kissing you gently, whimpering as he slowly pulled out of you. “But Don’t do that shit again.”

You flopped onto the backseat as you stuck up a thumbs up, your arm flopping back down as you heard him laugh.

Fin ♥️

Youve got Mail!📥 @megamindsecretlair @theebaddesttt @thecapodomme @henneseyhoe @planetblaque @kindofaintrovert @blackerthings @harmshake

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. In this one, I tried writing with an unnamed character after someone reached out to me suggesting that I shouldn't tag "x reader" even if the character had a short name. They were not this polite in their wording. Kindly let me know if you find this more enjoyable and if you have any advice or feedback.

Pairing:  Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: everyone thinks she's too much—too loud, too affectionate, too overwhelming—but as long as Franco loves her, she feels enough. When a painful betrayal forces her to question everything, she’s left wondering if even his love can truly be unconditional.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 2077

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco Colapinto had become a rising star in Formula 1—his unexpected debut mid-season with Williams brought attention, intrigue, and the buzz of fans enamored by his unfiltered charm and skill on the track. To the world, he was a formidable talent, sharp in his focus and strategic in his every move. But to her, Franco was simply her Franco—the person she adored with every fiber of her being, the man who lit up her world with his easy laugh and grounded presence. She never tried to share him with the world; her joy was simply in being there. To Franco, she was a grounding force. To her, he was the brightest point of her life.

Their relationship had always been natural, filled with the kind of closeness that felt both unbreakable and safe. She loved to be near him, to catch the quiet smiles he reserved just for her or hold him close, her arms around him like a shield. She had a way of finding him when he was deep in conversation, slipping her arms around him or perching on the arm of a chair, just listening, watching him with eyes that spoke of adoration. She adored him openly and shamelessly, kissing his cheeks, bringing him little snacks between meetings, and laughing at his every story as if it was the first time she'd heard it. It was how she showed love—boldly, sincerely.

In public, her spirited affection sometimes drew raised brows. She was quick to laugh, unrestrained in her warmth, the kind of person who got excited over the little things. When she spoke, her voice had a way of filling the air, especially when she became passionate, her laughter rich and booming. Franco’s teammates would sometimes tease her for it, not unkindly, but she felt Franco’s protective arm settle around her back, his voice lowering to gently bring her back to the moment, a silent reminder that she was safe, that she didn’t need to hold back. She never felt like too much with him; she felt like enough.

When Franco got his F1 call-up, the world saw his potential, his brilliance. He went from a promising driver to a star almost overnight, and with that came the scrutiny, the endless, dissecting gaze of the world. There were new pressures, new challenges—he was praised and criticized in equal measure, and with him, she found herself swept up too. Fans adored him—his directness, his humor, his daring spirit. He was the next big thing, and with that title came every word spoken about him, every inch of him magnified. And suddenly, they wanted to know her, too. Who was Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend?

But their adoration of Franco didn’t extend to her.

She’d never been the kind of girl who worried about attention, but the way the public spoke about her… it was like a slow, smothering weight pressing down on her heart. They saw only a girl who seemed too clingy, too loud, and too unfitting of someone they had put on a pedestal. Her open affection was criticized as immature, her laughter labeled as attention-seeking. They dissected her every move and labeled her a distraction, tearing into her with the kind of brutality she’d never experienced. It felt like strangers were peeling her apart piece by piece, tearing away the person Franco had always loved.

She tried to ignore it at first, comforting herself with the knowledge that Franco didn’t seem to mind, that he even loved her as she was. Franco was all that mattered; his opinion was the one she trusted. He was the only reason she could keep her head up, brushing off the hate as long as she knew she had his love. And when Franco looked at her, his smile never wavered. She held onto that—the belief that he loved her as she was, even when the world made her question it.

But then came Brazil. She’d been watching from the paddock, her heart leaping every time he turned a corner, nerves twisting as he went head-to-head with some of the most seasoned drivers in the world. And then, the crash. It was terrifying, watching him collide and skid, helpless from a distance as her heart stopped, praying he was okay. Her relief was overwhelming when he emerged unharmed, but Franco’s face had been pale, his expression distant as he made his way off the track. She could see the weight of the moment pulling him under, the strain and pressure breaking through his usually calm demeanor. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, tell him she was there for him, that she would carry the weight if she could.

But he’d pulled away from her, muttering that he needed a minute to gather himself. Respecting his space, she’d wandered to the restroom, splashing water on her face, telling herself he’d come around, that he just needed time. She returned to his room, pausing outside, not wanting to intrude if he still needed space. And that’s when she heard it.

“…but don’t you think she’s a bit much?” The voice was that of his engineer, a man she’d thought liked her, someone she’d shared a few laughs with before. “She’s always there. Always talking, always needing to be… close. Must be a lot to deal with when you’re under this kind of pressure.”

She waited, her breath frozen, trusting that Franco’s response would ease her worry, that he’d brush it off as nonsense, defend her like he always had.

But his voice—the voice she trusted, the voice that had always assured her she was enough—spoke words she could barely stand to hear. Franco responded quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah… I mean, sometimes. It’s a lot, too much, you know?”

She could hardly breathe, the words sinking in slowly, one by one, like sharp blades against her skin. He thought she was too much. A lot. The one person she thought she could be her fullest self with, the person who had always made her feel safe to love so openly, to be unapologetically herself—he was overwhelmed by her too. She was his burden, the weight that followed him. Tears began to blur her vision, but she stayed frozen, rooted in place as she listened to them continue, laughing and talking about her as though she were some trivial inconvenience, as though her love was suffocating him.

She backed away from the door, her heart breaking with every step. The tears came fast and hot, her whole body trembling with the force of them as she stumbled back into the restroom. Locking herself inside, she slid down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces. She had fought so hard to believe in her own worth, to convince herself that she was lovable and that her affection wasn’t too much for him to bear. But he agreed. He agreed with them, with the strangers who hated her, who thought she was too loud, too affectionate, too clingy.

She had tried so hard to believe that Franco saw her the way she saw him—as irreplaceable, as the very air he breathed. But hearing his quiet agreement, the confirmation that the one person she thought she could trust didn’t love her as she was… it left her feeling hollow, like a fragile shell of herself.

---

When Franco found her, he looked at her with that familiar softness, his arms coming around her as he held her close. She clung to him, not because it made her feel better but because she didn’t know how else to act, didn’t know how to pretend it was all okay. He asked her why she was crying, and she forced herself to smile through the tears, saying it was because of his crash, that she’d been worried. He looked at her with relief, gently pulling her closer, and she let him, even though his touch felt like fire against her skin, burning with the memory of his words. For the first time in their relationship, being near him didn’t feel safe.

In the days that followed, she withdrew into herself, letting Franco slip away piece by piece. She stifled her laughter, kept her voice low, spoke only when necessary. She still brought him snacks, still sat beside him as he debriefed with his team, but now she was a shadow, a shell of the girl she once was. She didn’t touch him as freely, didn’t drape herself over his shoulders or pepper his face with kisses. She gave him what the world wanted, the perfect, silent partner, standing just behind him, looking at him only when he looked away.

Fans noticed the change, taking to social media to praise her for finally learning her place. They called her refined, mature, supportive. They praised her “new maturity,” applauded her for “knowing her place.” They liked her better this way, in the background, quiet, subdued. For the first time, she fit the image of the F1 girlfriend they wanted her to be. She was a supporting character, there for Franco when he needed her but silent, never in the spotlight, never drawing attention.

But Franco hated it. He missed her laugh, the way her hands would find his at every turn, the way she’d rest her head on his shoulder while he spoke. He missed the way she’d light up a room with her excitement, her laughter like music that chased away the shadows of his stress. He tried everything to bring her back, brushing his fingers along her cheek, whispering little jokes, pulling her close. But she stayed quiet, her smile polite but hollow, her laughter a pale echo of what it used to be.

She wasn’t his girl anymore. She was someone else, a stranger wearing her face.

---

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Franco found her alone in their hotel room. She was sitting by the window, staring into the dark night, her reflection in the glass a ghost of the girl he had fallen in love with. He crossed the room, kneeling beside her, his hand finding hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his worry. “Tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of a pain he couldn’t understand, couldn’t reach. “I’m here, Franco,” she whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re… you’re gone. The girl I love is gone.”

Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. She was quiet for a long time before she spoke, her words barely audible. “I heard you… that day in Brazil. I heard you tell your engineer that I was too much. That I was a lot.”

Franco’s heart dropped, a cold shock of realization rushing through him. He remembered the conversation, the way he’d laughed along, never thinking his words would reach her. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I never meant it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her voice breaking. “You agreed with them. You agreed with everyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t too much, like I was enough. But if even you… if you think I’m too much…”

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself tighter. Franco reached for her, his heart shattering as he saw the pain he’d caused, the light he’d extinguished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love everything about you. You’re not too much. I need you, all of you.”

He reached for her, but she drew back, her body a closed door, her eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than anything. “I love you with everything I have,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I would have given anything to be enough for you.”

He could feel his own tears burning, the agony of realizing that his careless words had stripped away the light from the woman he adored. “You are enough,” he said desperately, his voice thick. “You’re everything to me. I love you just as you are.”

But she only shook her head, her hand lifting to his cheek, her fingers brushing his skin one last time. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

[lnfours]

i feel like youre the only one who could understand my thoughts rn, hear me out: uni student who is having a hard time being motivated and is justt feeling overall down about school and such. THEN, lando comfort, just being there and being so comforting (this is not at all inspired by my life or anything...truth, ive been having such a shit week and i just know that this week is going to be bad too and i really need comfort, but am lacking in the friend/boyfriend department and my phone calls with my mom are simply not doing it for me anymore. okay enough with the venting.)

i definitely, 100% understand your situation. school is stressful and hard, especially when you’re feeling unmotivated. remember to give yourself breaks as needed, and my messages are always open if you need anything ❤️

‘feeling 22’ birthday sleepover

the sound of the front door opening sounded through the apartment before his voice did, "hey, baby."

you looked up from your laptop, smiling softly at him from the spot on the couch that you had realized you'd been at all day. the sun was beginning to set, peaking in through the curtains in the living room. he walked up behind the couch, wrapping his arms around you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"it's five already?" you asked, glancing up at the time in the corner of your screen. sure enough, it was a little after five. you had quite literally been working on this final project all day.

he hummed, resting his head on top of yours, "mmhm," his nose absentmindedly nuzzled into the hair ontop of your head, taking in the smell of your shampoo, "have you been working on this all day?"

you nodded, sighing before pulling off your glasses, rubbing your eyes, "yeah and i feel like i've barely made a dent in it. i feel like no matter what i put, my professor isn't going to be impressed."

"he'd be an idiot not to be impressed with anything you do."

"yeah, but it needs to be perfect if i want to land that internship," you said, "and it's nowhere near perfect. no matter how hard i work i feel like it's not good enough and i just... i don't know what to do."

"take a break, baby," he said, "you've been at this all day. rest the rest of the night and have another go at it tomorrow or the next day. little by little."

you knew he had a point, but you sat there defeated as you tried to get yourself to close your laptop, "okay, yeah, just let me read it over one last time and then i'll be done for the night."

he nodded, "okay, just once though," he said, standing up again, "i have an idea, actually. i'll be right back,"

you nodded, letting him venture down the hallway and into your bedroom. he made quick work with his actions, gathering candles from your bedroom before placing them on the bathroom counter and lighting them. he started the faucet for the bath, making it the temperature he knew you liked before adding some of your body wash to the water.

once it was set up to his liking, he made his way back to the living room and you were still invested in the project on your laptop. he stood in front of you. gently closing the lid, which made you stop reading as you let out a soft sigh of defeat. there was no getting around it with him.

"c'mon," he smiled softly, reaching out and offering his hand for you to take. you placed your hand in his, rising from the couch as he led you down the hallway and to your bedroom.

"what're you up to?"

"nothing in particular," he smiled, and when you saw the bathroom you immediately almost broke down into tears. the candles dimly lit the room and a bath was drawn.

"lando," you gasped softly, his thoughtfulness making your heart flutter against your chest and reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

he smiled, "you relax, i'll order us some food. how's that sound?"

you nodded as wrapped your arms around his neck, "have i ever told you how much i love you?"

he smiled, "once or twice, i can't quite put my finger on it though."

you laughed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "i love you."

"i love you more," he smiled.

you nodded in the direction of the tub, "how about you join me and then we order dinner?"

"i like the way you think."

[sanemistar]

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 crazy over you

contains ★ aventurine x fem!reader, fluff, suggestive (+17 only), marking, brief mention of a hickey, aventurine is jealous and possessive, 0.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ hsr m.list

robin invited you to her birthday party, to which you happily agreed. it’s no surprise since the two of you have been close friends for quite some time. you’ve been looking forward to it for a while now and tonight is finally the night of the party. you go over to the closet and quickly scan through it before deciding on a cute, red dress that is slightly short, exposing a lot of your beautiful skin.

once you’re ready, you walk out of the room to show your boyfriend. who’s scrolling endlessly through his phone on the couch.

he stops scrolling though and puts his phone away the minute he hears the clinking sound of your heels and smells your beautiful scent that’s filled up the room. he takes a couple glances at you, his eyes scan every inch of your body, inspecting it from head to toe. he even asks you to turn around and show him a 360.

“how do i look baby?” you coyly ask as you stand there anticipating his answer.

aventurine slowly gets up from the couch and heads to the spot where you’re standing. your eyes instantly get captured in his alluring gaze.

“you look gorgeous, too gorgeous.” he coos, and you feel the heat running through your cheeks as they redden.

"but are you really going to that party like that, doll?” he leans in so dangerously close to you that you can feel his every breath fanning against your skin and your heart as he whispers in your ear, and your heart begins to race rapidly.

“yes?” you answer absentmindedly, your head is spinning so much that you just utter the first answer that comes in mind. and he instantly clicks his tongue in disappointment, this isn’t the answer he wants to hear.

“but i don't want anyone else looking at what’s supposed to be just for me." aventurine speaks in a way that is asserting his possessiveness over you. he takes your hands in his before he releases them and grabs your shoulders, bringing you even closer to him than you are already.

then, an idea comes into his mind, a mischievous one.

what if he leaves a hickey? a mark to let whoever looks at you know that you already belong to someone.

“well then if you really wanna go out like this,” he begins his speech, a dark look is seen in his eyes. you gulp in nervousness, feeling a knot forming inside your stomach.

“then i think i can add something to make it look better.” he tilts his head and before you can even ask him what he means, he leans in and starts to suck a certain spot on your neck that he knows has you weak. your knees begin to tremble as aventurine continues twirling his tongue around your exposed skin, by now you’re certain this will leave a mark. a breathy sigh leaves your lips, your whole body is shaking as you feel the strength slowly leaving your body so you tighten your grip on his shirt for support.

“there we go, babe.” he’s still slightly panting as a result of sucking a bit intensely but smirks proudly at the sight of his mark decorating your neck, reminding you yet again that you belong to him.

“you’re crazy.” you stare at your reflection in the mirror, watching as a love bite is slowly forming on the side of your neck, so now you’re forced to go back and change because no way you can go out looking like that.

“only over you.” aventurine replies back almost instantly.

your boyfriend is obsessed with you, he's simply crazy over you, and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @itoshivy @hanaeriin @spkyssn @stunies @17020 @kalsplace

[alchemistc]

Y'all were so insistent that I keep going with the Eddie Fixes It By Making It Worse post breakup fic.

This is officially a three-parter. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

You can read part one here

We have to make out in front of Tommy.

Buck's in the ice cream aisle, reminding himself that he has given himself three more days of moping and ignoring his diet before he gets his ass in gear and starts to live a life again. The Halo Top is mocking him, jeering and heckling as he goes for the Blue Ribbon. Mint chocolate, because Buck always loved it and he can almost forget the mock fight he'd had with Tommy three months in when he told Buck he refused to allow toothpaste flavored treats into his home, and how they'd barely gotten back to his place without a public indecency citation.

He stares at the text until his eyes cross.

What, he sends back, and slowly, cautiously, returns the pint of ice cream to its spot in the cooler. Maybe he should lay off the sugar. He's had enough.

Trust me

It comes in almost immediately and Buck tries to rewind, tries to figure out what any of this means, what the context is, why he's getting an actual Trust Me Bro from his best friend.

You've already met your last and it's not me comes crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He's had a full 36 hours to forget it, and he had been nearly there, nearly ready to chalk it up to Tommy trying to make him angry. Which he's been doing a really fucking excellent job of, lately. Almost like he knows all the buttons to push. Like Buck had given him the owners manual.

Tommy had meant Eddie? How could Eddie have possibly come to that conclusion? What the hell was he doing sending Buck half across town to the market for snacks when -

Buck judges the distance from this market to Eddie's. Then to Tommy's.

"Oh you mother -."

A woman squeaks by with her kid in the cart seat and glares.

---

Are you at Tommy's right now

No question marks. This is an accusation. Buck's thankful there are no perishables in his cart as he abandons it in the lane and hikes it towards the door. It's a dick move, and Buck feels, a little spitefully, like if anyone remembers him they'll remember him from the times he and Tommy giggled and play-fought down the aisles, so they'll think of Tommy when they think of the cart left behind. Resent him for it, maybe.

Not like Tommy isn't particularly good at just leaving things behind.

Yeah. Join me.

Buck breaks through the doors and feels a little woozy. This might be a panic attack. His chest fucking hurts.

🖕just get my stuff and meet me at yours. tell Tommy we burned all his shit

Eddie is an asshole. I'm not gonna LIE to the man. Also he definitely doesn't have an Evan box ready to go, so take what you will from that

Buck's still in that vicious cycle where he goes from angry to upset to sad in record time, no barriers in between, where every bruise feels like it's healing too fast so he keeps pressing in just to watch the color muddle. He hates this.

It'd be a Buck box, Buck texts back, just to release some of the pressure behind his temples, and he pulls in a few deep breaths before he jogs for the Jeep. He's gonna go home. Throw on the DVD copy of Sleepless In Seattle Tommy left behind and then maybe once that's done he'll throw the damn thing in a blender.

Are you coming or not?

Buck turns the ignition and peels out in a direction that won't lead to his own home, or the things Buck has been too much of a mopey bastard to pack up and return to their owner. At a red light two miles down the road, he shares his location.

Eddie sends back an ominous Hope you brushed your teeth today.

---

Eddie gets the door and it sucks just as much as if Tommy had. They barely ever spent time at Tommy's, and Buck can see it now for the boundary it was. When they had, though, their time had been split pretty evenly between Buck picking him up for a date, and Eddie wanting to leave the quiet echo of his own house to hang with them - a car on a lift and beers shared between them, Buck watching the pull of muscle beneath Tommy's shorts as he took Eddie down to the mat, Tommy's fingers drifting through the short curls at the back of Bucks head while Eddie yelled about triple-doubles and chatted with Tommy about how impossible coverage was for some guy named Joker.

Buck has never actually figured out who that guy was. Eddie hated the Mavericks and he hated the Lakers but Eddie also complained about the guy so much he definitely wasn't a Clipper.

Eddie gets him by the forearm when Buck shows clear signs of regretting this. Drags him through the front door before Buck can fully execute his spin and stomp back to the Jeep.

Tommy's next door neighbor had waved at him from her yard where she was doing something new with her display of bird sculptures, and Buck hadn't had the heart to do anything but raise his hand back.

It's less than ten seconds before Eddie is steering him down the hall, into the living room. It's cozy in here. Lived in. Mismatched furniture that somehow fits, a blanket thrown over the side of the couch, dark wood tables and light wood flooring and lamps that look like they came from an estate sale up in the Hills. A huge ass TV set above the mantle of a gas fireplace that Buck never even had the opportunity to see working before... Before.

Tommy is a shadow coming out of the kitchen, and Buck can't help but be a little pleased that he looks as crappy as Buck feels.

---

Eddie claps his hands together before either of them can get a word in. "Okay. Here's the thing. You're both dumbasses and there's a lot of shit that you guys gotta figure out on your own. But apparently you," he points at Tommy with the lip of a beer bottle. Corona. Tommy hates the stuff, and Buck is reminded once again how dearly Eddie loves him, "need empirical evidence that there's no deeply repressed sexual tension between Buck and I. So."

"You're insane," Tommy says, and Buck feels like snapping at him. He's probably right. This is an insane thing to do. Eddie ambushed his ex and then ambushed Buck in the frozen treats aisle and now he wants to kiss Buck to prove a point? What??

Eddie ignores it. Turns to Buck. "How do you wanna do this?"

And now would be the time, actually. Now would be the time to cut the thread, make it clean, break it for good. Only despite his protest, Tommy is staring between them and his expression looks almost... hungry. Frightened, at the same time. Oh. Oh.

He really had thought...?

Eddie's a fucking idiot. Buck doesn't want to kiss him. He's squared with the fact that he definitely had a crush when they first met and he's definitely been attracted to Eddie and just not realized it but he doesn't want Eddie. He doesn't want a life with Eddie, not like that. He doesn't- He isn't -

He loves Eddie more than almost every other person on the planet, but he's not in love with him.

Buck squares his shoulders. Nods. "Yeah, okay," and then he's taking three strides to meet Eddie at the coffee table.

---

"Oh come on, are you serious?"

Buck ignores the exclamation from the peanut gallery. Tries to figure out where to put his hands. He's never really noticed the height difference before. It's barely anything - a couple inches at most - but it feels like he's looming, this close. Which is stupid. He's been this close to Eddie a million times.

Eddie bends his knees to set the beer down. Darts his gaze back up to Buck.

Buck's seen him pull this move before, and has to bite down the urge to cackle because those big brown cow eyes have charmed women up and down California and probably plenty of Texas too but the only time Buck's ever seen them look genuine was when he was looking at Shannon.

He's got a good face. Angular in all the right places, expressive in a way a lot of men try to hide. Good eyelashes, clear skin.

Eddie gets a thumb in one of Buck's belt loops and tugs.

It's a good move. It's a move that has inspired Buck to sink to his knees on more than one occasion with the right men. Man. Just the one man.

He desperately bites back a giggle when the front of their thighs brush and Buck feels nothing more than the heat coming off Eddie.

Eddie's flushed, just a little, like he's well aware how ridiculous this all is, but he's got his I'm So Fucking Serious face on and there is a part of Buck, something fucked up and broken and wrong, that wonders how Tommy would feel to see it. To know that Buck is out there in the world kissing people who aren't Tommy. It's not like he'd ended things because he didn't care for Buck, because he wasn't attracted to him. It's gotta sting, right?

Buck gets a hand on Eddie's waist, just above his hip bone. He's never actually paid attention to how much more slim Eddie is, before, how big Buck's hands feel against him.

The night Tommy had first kissed him, Buck had spent an indeterminate length of time replaying every second of the interaction. The lead up, the frank honesty, the way Buck's entire body had followed the flow of Tommy's. Heart racing, body thrumming: when Tommy had ducked his head, when he'd laughed, when he'd opened up his body language and dropped a tiny morsel of his heart, Buck had felt himself drawn in.

The lips that had caught his had set him alight.

Eddie shifts his weight and blinks up at him and for half a second Buck wants this to be a good kiss - earth shattering, life changing. He wants to feel it. Wants it to be better than every kiss he and Tommy ever shared.

The pointer and middle finger he uses to tilt Eddie's chin up are petty as hell.

[leth-writes]

yandere reader x yandere batfam

SUMMARY: yandere batfam x yandere reader

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST��

Requests are open!

Just thinking of a yandere darling. You’re a little intense, maybe just on the creepy side of protective.

But you’re not very good at it 🙁

You’re stalking them, they’re stalking you as you stalk them, it’s a whole thing.

They honestly might be relieved. They know where you are at all times, they’ve long ago put a tracker on you, but having you always hovering around eases their worries.

Tim definitely hacks the bugs you’ve put on them, making sure you aren’t accidentally catching on to the fact they’re night-time vigilantes.

Overall, though, I can see them LOVING the trackers you try to place on them. You’re so clumsy about it anyone would notice, but they pretend not to, just so your self-esteem doesn’t get hurt.

It’s like a kitten trying to fight a tiger; the tiger’s playing, the kitten is unaware of how bad their odds are.

There’s no way you’d be able to break into the manor by yourself.

They see it as enrichment, they just… leave a single window open, on the ground floor, into a rarely used family room.

Once they catch you planting the bugs all over the room, not even bothering to make your way throughout the rest of the manor, they’ll spend more time in the room, playing up their personas.

Bruce is especially amused; he’s really playing up the ditzy Brucie persona around you, entirely so that he can get close to you without you suspecting he’s onto you.

You’re really protective over him; there’s been times you’ve been gearing up to fight some creep at a gala who won’t leave poor ol’ Brucie alone. 

He doesn’t need your help, he’s working on a case, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing you’re there. Even if there’s no way you’d actually be able to deal with the types of enemies he has.

You’re like pulling him off to the side, holding his hands in yours and staring at him so determinedly, eyes blazing. “Bruce, don’t be scared to tell me if someone’s bugging you, okay? I’ll handle it.” You tell him. Internally, Bruce is cooing. When he tells the others about it later, in the privacy of the cave, they’ll do the same.

You just think he’s too soft for this world. He needs protection! He thought Mexico was a continent!

He’ll definitely pretend to be super drunk just as an excuse to lean on you, his side pressed to yours and an arm slung around your neck. He loves the way he can feel the heat of your blush.

Dick is much the same way. You’ve signed up for his gymnastics class and you’re so determined to succeed at something he loves that he just can’t help but prioritize you. Some of the other students even complain about how obvious the favoritism is. Don’t be surprised if you miraculously win free 1-on-1 lessons with him. He just loves being able to physically touch and guide you, watching how flustered you get.

Sometimes you slip in a bit of information he knows isn’t really available to the general public, just little things about his time in the circus. It makes him happy to know how much time you’ve spent researching him, even if it is pretty baseline stuff, nothing too deep. He’s just appreciating your hard work!

Jason, you have a hard time with. He doesn’t appear in public often, so you spend most of your time just watching him read in the family room. He knows you’re reading the stuff he picks out, so he deliberately chooses books he thinks you’d like. 

When it comes to Tim, he’s definitely matching your freak. You get a tracker on him, he has 3 on you. He’s discreetly watching you watch him. 

Puts on a show, makes himself seem like any naive rich kid. You’ll never see the true predator until it’s too late.

Definitely fiddles with the trackers in his spare time, he loves being reminded of how much you love him; it plays right into those deep seated insecurities left over from his biological parents.

Damian is definitely the least subtle about it. He’s not gonna pretend to be something he isn’t, and he definitely wants you to step up your game. He’ll smash the trackers until you manage to get it into a satisfactory spot.

He will absolutely refuse to spend much time in the family room; he sees it as too easy. He wants you to work to learn more about him. His past is definitely one of the harder ones to dig up.

Cass can read the desperation on you, and just befriends you. She doesn’t really put up much of an act, and just satisfies your protective instincts by listening to your ‘suggestions’ about how awful her ‘friends’ are. They’re acquaintances at best, so you aren’t really accomplishing much of anything, but she feels it’s the thought that counts.

Just imagine when you’re finally kidnapped, and they’re like Surprise! We knew the whole time!

OH MY GOD THE HUMILIATION

They’re completely different than how you thought they were, and you slowly realize you’ve made a big fucking mistake, but oh well, it’s their turn now!

[ultralightpoe]

Slim Pickens - Tyler Owens

Authors Note: Not me writing this smut on election day..... anyways enjoy! Cause I have no clue what happened to me.

Word Count: 5080

Warnings: SMUT, stranger tryna get laid and Tyler not having it.

Requests: OPEN

Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event

[Thank you for the gif @chrishemsworthsbitch ]

Enjoy!

“Guess I'll end this life alone

I am not dramatic

These are just the thoughts that pass right through me”

-

There was a simple saying that been passed down from generation to generation, and you knew it all too well. 

‘No use crying over spilt milk’. 

Your grandma used to say it whenever you had boy problems back in middle school and your mother took up the saying when you went on to middle school and in both of these stages in your life you hadn’t quite understood what they meant. 

Now, sitting cross legged on Tyler Owens hotel floor as he repeated those very words to you, you knew them all too well. And by the look of his smug smile in your direction as he got ready for the day you knew he knew his words struck a nerve. 

“Now don’t get cranky at me, sweetheart.” He warns, pointing at you as he kicks his boots closer to the bed so he can sit on the end of it to put them on. “I warned you he wouldn’t be worth it last night when you left.”

The ‘he’ in mention was some guy named Jake that you had matched with on Tinder last night, and who you had dumbly agreed to meet up with. It had been a long week of storm chasing and dealing with Tylers crappy music in the truck and you just wanted to relieve some pressure. 

“He quoted shakespeare.” You try to defend only for him to laugh at you. 

“You sleep with every guy that quotes shakespeare?”

“Guys who quote Shakespeare are hotter than guys who haven’t touched a book in their life!” You snap back. “And-”

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” He interrupts, shoving his feet into the boots with a small look in your direction. But you were too focused on staring at the floor from exhaustion. 

“Mkay Yoda.” You sigh and his hands fly up in the air from lack of belief. 

“Seriously?”

“And I mean he was hot.” You continue, falling back to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling as he finishes with the boots and moves to get his bag together. “Honestly he kind of reminded me of you. But then he had to talk. And he just kept ruining it.”

“How so?”

“He was all ‘You ever seen a jet, Sugar’? And can’t forget ‘There is almost nothing better than the high feeling of flying through the air….almost.’ And it was-” You finish off the sentence with a loud groan as you slap your forehead making him laugh. 

“Did he not know what you do for a living?”

“Oh, you mean chase storms and kill them? No. Why would he? That would involve him asking me a question.” You seethe before Tyler comes into view, standing over you with that smug smile you hated and loved so much. 

“Alright, come on Sugar. It’s time to go.”

“Tyler, I’m gonna die alone.” You groan, closing your eyes before covering your face. He is having none of it though, reaching down to grab at your forearms, hauling you up with an ease that makes your skin flush. His hands are warm on your skin and the way his thumbs circle your flesh has images of your nasty daydreams flashing through your mind. 

“Enough of that mopin’. We got storms to chase and I ain’t got time to tell you that you’re never gonna die alone.” 

“Cause you don’t believe it?”

“No, cause the chances of us dyin’ in a tornado together are far more likely.” He laughs, deep and throaty as he leans down to scoop you up by the waist, taking a second to slap at your back thigh before exiting the hotel. “Cate will also kill us if we’re late again.”

-

“All the douchebags in my phone

Play 'em like a slot machine

If they're winnin', I'm just losin'”

-

“Not to be that guy…” Tyler starts, his voice already filled with annoyance. “But is now the time to be checking your phone?”

His hands were tight on the wheel as the truck raced through the fields, efficiently tracking down the storm that had caught Cate’s eye. And while you normally took the passenger seat next to Tyler after fighting with Boone for it so that Cate could take her own ford with Javi, today she had taken the seat and you were in the back with Boone who was just as upset by losing his special spot next to Tyler. 

It had been a rough day, between realizing one of the cars were completely broken down in the hotel parking lot and Boone nearly breaking his pinkie while trying to fix it. Let’s just say the hood of the truck came down a little too fast. Not only that but you had gotten stuck in the bathroom of your room until Tyler had to come save you in your towel, treating you like you were plague victim number one ever since. 

But the best part of the day so far? The introduction to Scott loservains new team, conning poor victims one at a time. 

“Hey man, I’m tracking our filming.” Boone argues, already offended.

“I’m making sure Javi has the same stats as us.” Cate argues. 

“Not talking to either of you. I’m talking to little miss lovestruck in the back.” 

“Hey!” You snap, immediately closing your phone. “Mind your business Tyler.”

“You’re in my truck. My truck is my business and everyone in the truck is my business.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “And besides, the more you let those fools win the more you lose.”

“How do you even know I was texting a guy?” 

“Because Sugar, I know you.” He snaps, casting you a quick look from his spot at the wheel before turning back to the road. 

“I think if you focused less on me then you would be able to drive better.” 

“I think if you focused less on the boys in your phone you wouldn’t be bitchin’ and moanin’ at me all the time!” He snaps back making you gasp as Cate and Boone switch their attention back and forth between you both. 

“Should we be worried?” Cate blurts, landing her gaze on you with her eyebrows pinched together in worry. 

“Not unless Tyler can’t learn to mind his own damn business!” 

“I’ll mind my business when you stop makin’ it my business!” 

“FINE!”

“FINE!”

-

“A boy who's jacked and kind

Can't find his ass to save my life”

-

The bar that sat 3 blocks away from the current hotel the team was staying at could only be described as a dingy cowboy bar, and considering you were mad at a certain cowboy this was the perfect place.  Surrounded by dozens of cowboy hats, none of them belonging to ‘Mr. Can’t Mind His Own Business’. 

He currently stood at the other end of the bar, closer to the live band as the dance floor began to fill with line dancers. Even that far away he was still being a pain in your ass with the way he glared across the floor every time you looked over. 

“You two don’t fight a lot. This is weird for you.” Cate chuckles, spinning her bottle of beer on the counter sat in front of you both, hearing the glass ring on the wood of the counter. “It sends the entire vibe of the group off.”

“It’s his fault.” You huff, scratching at the label of your own bottle as you avoided looking in his direction again. “I honestly don’t know where his freakout came from.”

“You don’t?” 

“No!” You huff, slapping your hands on the counter. “We were fine yesterday, I told him about that date with the aviator-”

“Oh that Jake guy. He was kind of cute.”

“Thank you. Anyways-” You take a quick inhale of air before looking at her. “We were fine and then today he was fine when he came to help me out of the bathroom but the second the door to the bathroom opened he got pissy.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, I assumed he had been getting hounded by everyone all day. He must have been stressed.” 

“Hmm.” She hums out, taking a look around the bar as you sit and mope. “I’m sure you both will get over it soon enough.”

“Slim chance. I am gonna ignore him forever now.”  It’s obviously just you being over dramatic but you were angry and embarrassed that he would call you out like that in front of the group. “Besides, if he didn’t want me talking to him about all that boy stuff he should have just told me. I don't know where his boundaries lie unless he sets them.”

“Damn, that’s deep.” She nods before tilting her head. “They should have put you on the shirt.”

“That’s what I said.” 

“And yet they-”

“Excuse me for interrupting ladies…” A new voice joins the group, making you both turn to the figure. A tall man with bruises along his jaw and a scratch right above his eyebrow. A black cowboy hat paired with a black shirt.  A fine specimen if you could say so. “I just saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and I had to come say hello.”

“Well would you be pickin’ here?” Cate smiles. 

“There is no wrong answer.” You hum out, tilting your head like a cat assessing prey. 

“Then can I say both?” 

“Oh, look at that. Even with a map leading to the answer he still managed to mess it up.” You snipe, giving Cate a knowing look as you both grab at your bottles of beer and move to make your exit. 

“Wait wait.” He reaches a hand in front of you to try and stop you from passing. “Not a great start. I know that. So let me just start over, yeah?”

“Oh… I didn’t realize I did do overs.” 

“Then what can I do to be granted one?”

“Is there a problem here?” Leave it to Tyler Owens to enter this scene, giving his best glare as he inserts himself between you both with his back to you so he can glare down the cowboy.

“There is no problem here.” The cowboy smirks, and you are shocked to see just how brave he was. Then it clicks, the bruises and the hat. This was a bull rider. “You got a problem, bud?”

“Oh yeah I have-”

“LET’S DANCE!” You interrupt, sending a glare to Tyler before pulling the bullrider to the floor as Tyler rolls his eyes. 

Before you can make it too far his hand reaches out to grab your elbow with a knowing look, and even when he is mad he still holds your arm with a gentle ease and traces the skin with his thumb. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Well that’s interesting…. Cause it’s MY business!” You scoff, pushing his arm back and moving to the dance floor with the stranger. 

-

“Oh, it's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

It was only fair, since there weren’t many options of men you would just lower your standards and have fun with this idiot for the night. 

He had two left feet, and was pressed against you the entire time but not in a hot way, more so a sweaty mess kinda way. And you would have abandoned him already but every time you looked for an escape you saw Tyler and his glare, there was too much at stake here. You could never admit Tyler was right. In YOUR business. 

So you ignored him and turned back to the stranger, just in time for this waste of space to press his lips to yours. It was awkward, the way your noses pressed together and how hard he smashed his lips to yours. There was no rhythm, no preparation or molding together. It was just his lips devouring your face as you tried to lean back. But the further you tried to get away the more he leaned with you. 

When he pulls back he keeps his hands on you with a sharp smile. “Wanna go back to your place?”

There wasn’t many options, and the one option you truly wanted would never happen let alone the fact that you were fighting with him so you would make do with what you had. “Sure, let’s go.”

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

Telling Cate that you were heading out with him was easy, she made you promise to update her that you were okay, which was easy to do.  You managed to avoid any conversation about Tyler in his truck, which was hard because Mr. Bull Rider was dead set on asking about him. 

“What was that guy with white hats problem?” He asked, and you changed the conversation to the music he was playing. Then he tried the “You guys ever date or somethin’?” 

That one was harder to change since your throat got clogged up thinking of the answer. It’s not like you never wanted to date Tyler, in fact he was all you dreamed of. But it wasn’t meant to happen. Tyler wasn’t yours. 

So you simply started giving him directions to the motel like he hadn’t asked. And by the time you made it to the destination you had hoped that the conversation had passed as you unlocked the door. 

“This is it. Home sweet home….. For a little.” You smile, allowing him to look around while you take your shoes off. 

“So you live in a motel?” 

“When it’s tornado season, yes. We travel around but when he find a specific spot we try to stay.”

“You follow tornadoes?”

“Yes, and we chase them. And if there is destruction we try to help out the communities.” You explain, picking up the tornado shirt with Tylers face on it so you can show him then debate it at the last second you drop it down. “It’s fun.”

“I’ll bet.” He nods before allowing himself to sit on your bed. “We doing this?”

“Oh. Straight to the business.” You mumble, a little shocked as he begins unbuttoning the black top. 

“Sorry, did you want to talk or something?” 

“Well no- I just-” You couldn’t tell if you were thankful that the door opened in that second or absolutely furious as Tyler appeared with that fake innocent smile. 

“Hey Sugar,” He starts, letting himself in fully and shutting the door. “I just wanted to come make sure that bathroom door was all taken care of for ya’.” 

“Tyler, is now the time?”

“Oh, please. It’ll only take a minute.” He chuckles, walking past you both to get to the door. “Wouldn’t want you getting stuck in there again.”

“Tyler, what on eart-”

“Hey man, we were kinda in the middle of something here.” Stranger boy snaps out, scooting so he was right on the edge of the bed, his face pinched between confusion and anger. 

“Hey, safety first.” Tyler laughs, the sound fake and bitter as he leans down to check the hinges of the door while you just blink in shock. “Ah I see the problem here.”

“Tyler.” You hiss. 

“Just give me a moment.” He murmurs, working on the hinge of the door while you glare. “Just a minute……”

“Dude.” Stranger boy sighs and you are wound between shock, anger and embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,.”

“There she is. Good as new.” Tyler smiles, standing to swing the door. “Look at that. Bet you’re glad I did it.”

“Tyler. Out.” You snap, moving forward to grab parts of his shirt to drag him out the door and slam it on him. “Now where were we?”

But it’s no use, since the door reopens with Tyler giving yet another innocent look. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I forgot my screwdriver here.” 

“Tyler, grab it and then leave. And leave the key.” The fact that you were even in this moment was so bizarre. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna get going… but let me write my information for when you get rid of dumbass barbie over here.” Stranger cowboy mutter, grabbing the pad of paper from the desk and writing his stuff down before moving forward to attempt to kiss you but Tyler is there, patting him on the back aggressively with a slight shove. 

“Sorry to see you go bud.” He smiles, a tense and angry smile before throwing an arm around your shoulder. “But we’ll be fine here.”

And you watch the bullrider leave, the door shutting before you whirl on him. 

-

“Jesus, what's a girl to do?

This boy doesn't even know

The difference between "there," "their" and "they are".”

-

“I can murder you.” You seethe, shoving his arm off of you and taking a couple steps away from him. “Matter of fact, what’s stopping me from doing so?”

“I just figured you might want help with the door-”

“Enough with the bullshit Tyler Owens!” You yell, whirling on him with your hands on your hips and a heavy glare. “What on earth were you thinking? After your fit today and that scene I’m starting to think you have lost your damn mind!”

“Hang on now-”

“And what on earth-” You take a moment to snatch up the pillow from the motel bed to swing it at him. “WOULD MAKE YOU INTERUPT-”

“HE WAS TERRIBLE!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” You yell. “Look around for a second Owens! There aren’t many options. The ones that are worth it are already taken, the one that I want would never go for me. I don’t have many options!”

“AND WHEN AM I GONNA BE AN OPTION?!” He yells out, grabbing your wrists before you can hit him with the pillow again. “When do I get the chance to prove myself?”

“Oh stop.” You snap, moving to walk away. “Don’t mess with me about this.”

“Why would I be messing with you? Is it so hard to believe that I want you?” He follows, making sure to keep a hand on you. “Time and time again you rant to me about these men, how they suck and you hate them. And I keep waiting for you to notice me, to give me a chance. Cate tells me that you might just be nervous, or that our time will come but Sugar I don’t think I can survive this much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Your tone is gentle and you’ve given up walking away, choosing to turn to him and allow him a chance to talk. Your heart was thumping through your chest and you were struggling to catch your breath. 

“Sweetheart, from the moment I met you I’ve been stuck. Comin’ in with all that attitude like you owned the world, which if you ask me you do, and you didn’t hesitate to put me in my place.” He continues, moving closer to set his hands on your hips. “And I just kept begging the winds to give me a chance. To give me a single shot with you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Why would you give me a chance?” He laughs, pulling you in. “But I need one now. I’m begging you for a chance here.”

And though no words are spoken you both know the answer, especially when you pull him in with your hands on the back of his neck to attach your lips to his. And unlike the kiss in the bar this one felt perfect. 

There was awkwardness. He tilted his head perfectly, pulling you chest to chest as his hat covers both your heads while his lips melt against yours. He takes his time learning the kiss, his hands rubbing up and down your back as you deepen the kiss some more. This is what was meant to be and you both knew it at that moment. 

There is no objection when you begin unbuttoning his flannel, one at a time, never breaking the kiss as you push it off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor before he reaches a hand up to throw the hat closer to the nightstand. He doesn’t waste time after he hears the thump of it landing to reach and lift his undershirt off, throwing it somewhere else as he makes eye contact. 

“Please tell me I ain’t dreamin’ right now.” He whispers out as you begin to undo your own shirt to slip off before leaning up. 

“I can’t tell.” You whisper back, leaning on your tiptoes to attach your lips once more, his arms wrapping around you to undo the back of your bra. 

Normally when a man removes the bra it is thrown away and he doesn’t focus too much on any of it, but Tyler? He kisses around your jaw as he undoes the buckle of it before his kisses move down your neck while he drags the bra down until he can drop it, allowing his hands to roam. The feel of his hands sends shivers throughout you and yet they keep you warm as you try to back him to the bed. 

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure.” You whisper back, undoing his belt as he kicks off his boots. “I want you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.” He grunts out, pulling you closer before falling back onto the bed and dragging you with him. 

-

“Yet he's naked in my room

Missin' all the things he's missin'

God knows that he isn't livin' large”

-

It doesn’t take long for you both to strip, slowly and gently, until you are both bare. He doesn’t waste time kissing you gently before guiding you up the bed until you’re leaning on the pillow you hadn’t dragged away, kissing along jaw as you sigh out in relief. 

He takes his time kissing down your neck, nipping a bit to pull out a breathy moan from your lips before moving further down to kiss and suck at your breasts. He grunts out at the way you wiggle, a breathy giggle passing your lips until a moan passes them the moment his tongue circles one of your nipples. The sound draws his eyes to yours and that sweet lovestruck look falls into one of ferocity, the heated light within them as your lower stomach tightening and your hands rushing to get some contact. 

Once your hands find purchase he abandons your breasts, leaving them cold to the air, as he makes his way further down. Every kiss is followed by a lick, every nip is given a bushel of kisses to make up for it. He works your body until he makes it to your thighs, spreading them open for him to view, sending a shiver across your body. 

“Tyler, please.” You gasp out, that tight feeling in your stomach begging for relief as your thighs beg to shut, but he is having none of it. Keeping them forced open so that he may give your inner thighs the same treatment he had given the rest of your body. 

He gives up his torture with a growl before diving straight in to lick right between your folds. He keeps his hands around your hips to keep you pinned to him when your back arches as you moan out loud. He devours you, licking and sucking over and over with grunts and growls to match your moans. 

He doesn’t relent until your moan hits near scream and your hands grip at the pillow, dragging it to your face to bite into as you reach your peak, entire body shuddering as you moan out. 

He continues until you come down, pulling away to give you the smuggest smile you had ever seen from him, your entire body ablaze as you sit up to reach for him. 

The other kisses were sweet and gentle, this one was two animals claiming each other. And he let you take charge, your speed and your lead. Tasting your own juices as you dragged him back down to lay over you. 

-

“A boy who's nice that breathes

I swear he's nowhere to be seen”

-

He’s quick to flip you both over so that he’s beneath you and you are on top, a wave of panic filling you. 

“Tyler….I’ve never-” You begin, hands landing on his chest as he gazes up at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen from him. 

“If you don’t want to then that’s fine, Sweetheart.” He mutters, reaching over to grab where his hat landed and bringing it to set on your head. “But you might just need a little confidence.” 

And he was right, with the way he was looking at you and the way the hat felt, suddenly you believed you could rule the world. So you lifted yourself a bit, keeping the gaze as you reached down to line yourself up to him, and with a loud moan you sunk yourself down. 

-

“It's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

His grunts were easily replaced by moans as you sunk down, his hands digging into your hips, letting you take a moment to adjust before guiding your hips slowly. You tilt your hips with each guide, struggling to catch the proper rhythm and getting pleasure nonetheless. 

A moan escapes you as he guides you down at the same time he thrusts up and it’s like something clicks as you begin to find your own rhythm. Using your hands on his chest to keep yourself stable as you begin to speed up your movements. 

Tyler gives in, enjoying your new pace, thrusting up into every bounce. Grunting and growling as his nails dig into your hips and he closes his eyes to enjoy the pleasure while you lean down to nip at his chest which makes him groan. “Darlin’...”

And that makes something inside of you burn, a feral moan passing your lips as you speed up, nails digging into his chest before he sits up to kiss you, helping you bounce on his cock with ease. 

“Y-you’re…” He groans. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

His arms wrap around you, and he readjusts so that he was on his knees to thrust into you, pulling you down to meet him. The sound of skin slapping is alluring and your thighs clench to cage him in as you lose your breath and shut your eyes. 

“Tyler.” You whine, nails digging into his back as something in you begins coiling, tighter and tighter until he bites down between your neck and shoulder and it all falls in an instant. All you can see is white as you bite down on your own lip, holding him tight to you as the waves of pleasure subside. 

He continues to thrust before falling under the same spell that had you, keeping his forehead pressed into your collarbone as he spills his cum into you. 

You both fall into the cushion of the bed, shuddering as he pulls out before closing your eyes to catch your breath from that experience. And when he wraps his arms around you it’s far too easy to fall asleep from his warmth surrounding you like a blanket of it’s own.

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

It’s the feeling of him moving that wakes you a couple hours later, when the bed dips as he stands, making you blink in the dark to see what he is doing. Apart of you panics that he might be leaving, and this was just going to be a one night stand until he pulls on his boxers and turns back to come lift you. 

“Why are we awake?” You croak, already feeling cranky at the fact that you had been woken up. 

“I figured you’d want to shower, and this is when I normally do.”

“You shower at 4am?” You scoff, clinging to him as he sets you down so your feet touch the cold bathroom floor. 

“Yeah. I figured out that no one else showers at this time-”

“Because it’s crazy.”

“Well since no one else showers at this time the water is always at its best pressure and warmth.” He explains, reaching in to turn it on. “Then I can get another hour or so of sleep.”

“Oddly genius.” You giggle, laughing when he shucks the boxers off as a pretend strip tease before hauling you into the shower with him. 

-

“Moanin' and bitchin'”

-

He takes his time washing your body, lathering the soap over your body with gentle hands as his eyes traced over you over and over again like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. 

He let you do the same, the only words spoken never went above a whisper so you didn’t break the bubble and shampooed eachother before shutting the water off and using the towel. 

When he swings the door open he makes sure to raise his eyebrows, a look of pride covering his face that makes you scoff. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“I wonder what hot scoundrel fixed that for you…”

“Hmmm. I wish I knew.” You tease, “I might have rewarded him.”

A small growl leaves his lips as he scoops you up and hauls you to the bed once more. 

-

“Since the good ones call their exes wasted

And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin'

Then I'll just be here in the kitchen

Servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'”

-

You sit on the motel floor as Tyler works around you to get ready for the day, listening to you bitch and moan as he struggles to put his boots on. 

“I’m so sore.” You whine, falling flat on the floor to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah? At least you never have to worry about dying alone.”

“No,” You huff out a laugh. “Now I just have to worry about you killing me.” 

“Never.” He smiles, coming to haul you off the floor just to throw you over his shoulder and head for the door.

-

[koolades-world]

this piece is based off this post, which you can find here. I had heard it as an audio at first actually and fell in love with it. it's kind of essential for this read. it's basically talking about how before their loved one guessed their favorite color was yellow, they didn't have one. after that, yellow was special! sooo cute and i though luci fit in perfectly as the speaker!!! if you were tuned yesterday for my solomon birthmarks fic, this is two out of my four ideas! i had one more in my drafts that i decided to throw in for fun

so so excited to write this. so fluffy!!!

the color of happiness

"Don't forget about your coffee, Mc." Lucifer nudged the cup towards you, acting as a gentle reminder of it's existance.

"Right, right. Just let me finish this thought." You were laser focused on the paper you were in the middle of planning. You were desperate to get all the thoughts out before you inevitable got distracted and forgot everything.

"I don't mean to dissuade you from your schoolwork, but it's getting cold." He chuckled at your half assed attempt to wave him off.

"You can just reheat it with magic." You stuck out your tongue ever so slightly as you scribbled.

"And what if I can't?" Lucifer was practically enchanted with your little mannerisms.

"You can and would. I know you. You'd find a way to make it happen for me." Despite how smug you sounded, he knew you were right. He'd jump through however many hoops as he had to for you.

There was no coming back from your words, so he went back to his own work. By the time he'd restarted, you'd stopped for a break, and were ready to bug him.

"On that note, I feel like I know so much about you, yet so little at the same time." You held the mug in one hand, the other underneath your chin as you gazed up at him.

"What prompted this?" Lucifer set down his pen despite just having gotten back to work. He'd felt like the two of you knew each other quite well. You'd been through thick and thin together, even defied death at each others side.

"Let's play twenty-one questions!" You ignored his question. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to hear his voice.

"Alright. I can't say I've played before, but I know of it." He found himself smiling again, as he often did around you.

"It's easy! We just ask each other questions to get to know each other better."

"Which one of your brothers is your favorite?" You asked. He hadn't been expecting such a hard hitter of a question at first

"Must I answer?" He joked.

"Come on! Alright, then which do you hate the least?" You suppressed laughter.

"Do not shout this from the rooftops, but, Mammon." He already knew how'd you'd react, but he still found himself amused when you inevitably did.

"I knew it!" You celebrated, throwing your arms in the air. "Alright, your turn."

He absentmindedly messed with his gloves. "What is your favorite part of human world?" Lucifer had thought hard about that question. You seemed too enthusiastic about the entire thing, and he couldn't help but cave.

"That's an easy one! The sunrise. I would almost never wake up in time for it, but it's so beautiful." Your eyes sparkled. He made a mental note to plan a surprise trip to the human world for you. "I've actually been dying to know the answer to this next question for a while now."

"Oh? Ask away then." Lucifer was curious. There was a lot a human could want to ask the Lucifer Morningstar. You already knew his story, but there was a lot to be asked about what the Celestial Realm was like, or what having his power was like. But instead you asked him,

"What's your favorite color?"

The question hit him like a shot to the heart. He should've known you weren't interested in anything but him, for who he was. For once, he didn't know the answer a question as simple as that. He'd never really given it though. Maybe it was red? It was the color of his eyes, and the color of Diavolo. Maybe it was blue? That was the color of his sin. Maybe it was black? Everything he bought seemed to be in that color. Or, just maybe, it was that he didn't have one.

He floundered, his thoughts much more chaotic than what he let on. "Oh, wait! Let me guess!" He nodded, despite not knowing how he'd respond. You pursed your lips, deep in thought, when you burst out with what you thought was the answer.

"Yellow! It's yellow!" You placed a hand on his arm, eagerly awaiting his answer. You looked so full of joy, that somehow, made the answer seem correct to him.

"You're right." Lucifer nodded his head in confirmation.

"Knew it!" You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a side hug. After the inital shock, he hugged you back. "Yellow was already the best color, but now it's even better since it's your favorite too." The rest of your game, and break flew by.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. How could he had been so blind to a color he saw everyday? After that, the color held a special meaning to him. Not only was it the color of his favorite brother, and the color of your favorite thing about the human world, it was also the color of you to him.

Yellow was never the same after that.

The runny yellow yolk of the sunny side up eggs tasted that little bit better. He wasn't upset when he saw a yellow ball of yarn roll out from Satan's room. The yellow umbrella you carried around always caught his eyes, and so did yellow devildom equivalent of roses he passed every day on his way to RAD in a way they hadn't before. He promptly bought them and presented them to you when you arrived after him. The smile you gave him and the way you buried your face in the flowers meant the world to him.

Yellow suited you.

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤFOUR !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART FOUR. sorry that u love me !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJENSEN POV!! fictional school lore. minor manipulation tactics. one (1) y/n and it DID upset me to do as much as it might u to see </3. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 2.2k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. i did not ever expect to do a jensen pov but honestly i just felt like this one deserved it. he's such a little rat but i'd let him hit it raw ok. before you say girl stand up... ik u were thinking it too... i see u ...

laurel dance academy was fucking cute. a prestigious little building deep in the forestry of outer dallas, tucked away from prying eyes and wanderers, full of some of the prettiest girls that jensen had ever seen in his entire life. 

they were all just as hyperfocused on their education and practices as you were, which meant that the most he got for wandering down the long, winding staircases and stopping to look in every two way mirror was just a look. 

a look! he was fucking trespassing, and all any of the college aged women and scattered men did was eye him, like they were just as aware of how he didn’t belong as he was. 

dangerous, dangerous. he was already trying to think up ways on how to get away with this more often. 

at least he was here for a purpose, and not just in an attempt to get a look at you in your little leotard again. he wondered if you tossed it after he debauched it, or if you’d thrown it in the wash and figured that was enough to get the stain of him off of your skin and your clothes. unfortunately for you, it wasn’t going to be that easy. he rather liked playing with his toys more than once. 

the dean of the school, tracy geralds, had agreed to a meeting with him. it honestly was a long shot, making that request in the first place, but if powerless was going to become something other than a glorified garage band, he had to take some risks that didn’t involve squatting in an abandoned venue. 

they needed shows, concerts, fucking get togethers if they had to settle for that. and while they were still clinging the dust out of every nook and cranny inside of sunset blvd’s walls, they couldn’t do it there. 

laurel had a stage. it was more designed for an orchestra, really, or, you know — dancers. but it was the first idea he’d gotten in their pursuit for getting the band’s name out there. it had nothing to do with you, even though he’d gotten the idea from your affiliation at the school. it was just too damn easy. 

he raps his knuckles on the dean’s closed, cloudy glass door. he waits one, two, three seconds before deciding to twist the knob and invite himself in. what was she going to do, expel him? 

she’s an older woman, pale blonde hair streaked white in places. her eyes are deep brown, thin lines in the corners, and deeper ones around her mouth. her lips twitch upwards in a small, polite smile. 

“jensen, is it?” she asks, moving around neatly stacked papers on her desk to clear an open space in its center. “go on, have a seat. i’m not going to bite.” 

“hey, you never know,” jensen jokes as he steps further into the room, tugging the chair in front of her desk out just enough to slip in the open space. he collapses into the cushion, stretching his legs out as much as he could in the small area. “i should thank you. for meetin’ me like this.” 

tracy geralds picks a pen out from the container at the corner farthest from jensen, and clicks it a couple of times. “i wouldn’t do that yet,” she says, grabbing a paper from one of the file folders. he was throwing this. she wasn’t even giving him her full attention which, he wasn’t entitled to it, but how was he supposed to flirt his way into getting what he wanted if she wouldn’t look into his eyes? 

“i think i’m gonna put my trust in you, tracy— i can call you tracy, can’t i?” his lips quirk in that panty dropping grin he utilizes so often. that smile’s latest victim had been you, and he could still hear the sound of your restrained moans in his ears. “me n’ my crew aren’t gonna fuck too badly with your stage, if you allow us to use the space.” 

her steely, dark eyes flick up at him. “i’d appreciate if you didn’t say fuck here, mr. ackles; not when you’re trying to swindle your way into getting something you want for free.” 

“oh, i wasn’t expecting free,” he quickly interrupts, and his eyes fall to the curve of her button up shirt, gaze tracing the form of her chest— or, lack thereof. god fucking damn it. he had so little patience, and so did she, and he had nothing to work off of. 

her thinned lips press into an even thinner grimace. “you think i’m going to be bribed with the promise of your—” 

a knock sounds at the door before she can finish, and jensen is almost relieved. he’s not in the mood to get his ass handed to him by a woman twenty years his senior, telling him that all he had to offer was, in fact, weak as shit. 

“come on in,” tracy says, her near sneer of a grimace still directed at jensen. 

he was fucking throwing this. 

the door creaks open, and he can’t help but be nosy. he’s already here. he tilts his head back in the seat to look at who was stepping in. 

his smile doubles in size, becoming something more genuine and less forced, at the sight of you. 

your eyes fall down to his instantly before they ever glance at the dean, and he shoots you a wink before turning around again, legs spread and entirely too comfortable for someone who wasn’t necessarily welcome. 

“oh,” you say finally, three seconds too late. so damn cute, he can’t stand it. like a little bunny! “i’m sorry, i can come back later, dean ger—” 

“don’t worry about him. we’re all but finished here,” the dean says, and he has to physically bite back the scoff that raises from his chest. yeah, he’d thrown this shit completely down the drain. unless…

your eyes glance between him and the dean a couple of times, before you clear your throat. “the cd, with the sleeping beauty songs? it, um, isn’t playing the music anymore.” 

he’s never seen you look so sheepish before. the urge to tease you about it is right there on the tip of his tongue, but he shouldn’t right now. he’s pocketing the information for later, though.

“really?” the dean asks, and jensen looks at her again, seeing the shock written on her face. mixed in with it is the slightest hint of fond exasperation. no surprise that you were a damn teacher’s pet type. “it’s brand new.” 

you make a dismissive sound. he’s glancing between the two of you like he has any fucking clue what this means; like he has a right to learn it, either. “beats me.” 

“i’ll go and take a look at it after this,” tracy assures, “and might just make a request for another, just in case. can’t have our aurora without her tracks, can we?” 

aurora. 

no wonder you were a teacher’s pet, you were the lead of whatever the hell performance you guys were talking about. jensen didn’t know how performances worked when it came to dance, but he knew disney princesses — of course he knew disney princesses — and could context clue the shit out of it to assume that you being aurora was a big deal. 

“thank you,” you say, and the door creaks again, like you’re about to leave. 

that won’t do. jensen sits forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, head swiveling around again to look at you. you really are a cute thing, dressed in a pale pink leotard and a matching skirt. your hair was slipping out of the tight bun it was usually in, front strands falling in loose ringlets. 

the smile didn’t work on the dean, but he knew that it worked on you. “hey, sweetheart. no hello?” 

the silence is so fucking heavy that, for the first time in what must have been ages, jensen regrets opening his mouth. the smile on his face becomes less charming and so much more strained. 

you don’t say a word. something about that irks him; the way you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, your pretty pink lips parted and unspeaking. 

the dean does, though, a hint of incredulity in her voice. “you know each other.” spoken like a question and a statement at once. 

“neighbors,” jensen explains, and the white lie rolls off of his tongue so easily that it could have been the truth. the best lies were part truth, anyways, weren’t they? he’s starting to relax in his seat again, realizing he could salvage this. it was possible. his eyes flit back over to the dean. “she’s actually why i thought of laurel in the first place. i know all about the grandeur of your auditorium from her.” 

you’re glaring at him. he feels it like fire on the back of his skull. dean geralds’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “i didn’t know you hung out with… such a crowd as this, y/n.” 

the dean’s eyes bounce between jensen’s heavily tatted hands, his rugged beard, his ( definitely ) mussed hair, and then to behind him. jensen turns, too, unable to resist seeing your expression at such an observation. 

your lips are curled in the most delicious scowl, your eyes full of hate and fire, as they fall to his. “surprise,” you bite out, and how pretty anger sounds in your voice. he’s heard nothing but that, until now, but it never fails to knock him off of his high horse every time. 

“well, in that case,” the dean sighs heavily, “you must know about the fact that he wants to share the school’s auditorium, i assume.” 

your anger deepens into vibrant red. your cheeks flush with it. jensen half wonders if it’s because you don’t want him infiltrating your space, or because you’re thinking about all the opportunities he’s going to get to see you now. he can almost see the memory of a few nights prior flickering in your eyes. 

“jensen’s a bit of a fool when he sets his attention on something,” you say, and he has to physically bite back the laugh that wants to spill out of his mouth because of it. “it’s all he’s been talking about. doesn’t shut up about it.” 

oh, you are fucking feisty today. he has half a mind to bring up the fact that he knew how to stamp out that fire in you, but he won’t. not in front of your dean, at least. 

“i’m sure you can enlighten me on why he wants laurel so bad, in relation to the tens of other actual venues in the vicinity?” jensen is not a popular person in this room, but he’s having too much fun seeing you on the spot, practically squirming against the door, to do the right thing and tuck tail. “all the information he’s given me is poor attempts at bribery and flattery.” 

ouch. whatever. couldn’t win them all. 

your lips upturn at the corners, though, and that makes everything but you in the room disappear. forget the old ass woman behind him, and the clicking of her pen, the scratch of the ink against whatever she was scribbling down. you were captivating. 

“his band’s trying to fix up sunset blvd,” you say, your shoulders lifting in a little shrug to punctuate it. “until then, they don’t have anything to perform in. i’m guessing that. i don’t know. he doesn’t tell me any of the whys on his goals.” 

hot damn, were you good. he could read each of your expressions like a book, and apparently, you could read his. 

“i assume he didn’t want to go far from home,” you add slowly, like you’re trying to piece together his motives as you spell them out loud, “and knew that i went to school here.” he didn’t. but pretty little lindsey from destiny dance studio spills everyone’s secrets when she has someone’s head between her legs. “and figured he’d take a chance.” 

the dean made a humming sort of noise behind him, contemplative in nature. this was farther than he ever would have gotten with her, because now that he’d gotten his eyes on you again, the idea of fucking his way into a deal with someone with more gray hairs than blonde made him didn’t sound like such a great plan anyways. 

the rolling chair she sits in groans, and he turns over his shoulder to look at her again, even if it physically aches to pull his attention from you and that fiery look in your expression. “thank you, dear. you may return to class. i’ll be down to check that cd out momentarily. and you,” she says, glancing at jensen now, “you’re incredibly lucky, mr. ackles, that the odds somehow fell into your favor.” 

the office door closes behind him at the same time as jensen’s heart stumbles in his chest. his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before it settles on a grin. “i’m very lucky, yeah. i’ll make sure to let her know how thankful i am.” 

and he planned on keeping that promise, at the very least.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck @casatoan @mo0nwalker @manicjk @stereotypicalbarbie @inpraise0fbacchus @fitxgrld @depressionbarbie2023 @n-o-p-e-never @star-yawnznn @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl2

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[shouyuus]

RAIN!!!

idk how i didn’t know that you were on vacation until a few days ago but i hope you’re having the best fun of your life!!

here’s a lil present i found 😋

Edit: a kind anon reminded me that this wasn't credit properly!!!! I'm so sorry the lovely art is by @meofthoois ♡♡♡♡

OKAY okay *takes a deep breath* SO LIKE.

imagine being courtside at an adlers match and things aren't going fantastically -- it's just an off day and kageyama comes off a service miss, his brows a bit furrowed, sweat dripping off his face, he's clearly annoyed with himself and with the entire situation. the opposing team is putting pressure on him at all the right times, in all the right places. you're biting your lips so hard you think you might break skin and during the court rotation, he does this ^^^^, tugs up the edge of his shirt to wipe at his sweat, his eyes focused on some point in mid-air -- you know he's probably running through a series of scenarios in his head, trying to map out the best way forward. you can see the tightness in his shoulders, the way his stomach is flexing with how hard he's breathing.

you teeter for a second before raising a hand and waving; and even though you know his concentration is something inconceivable to the average person, he's just as finely attuned to you -- can pick you out of a crowd of thousands, and of all screaming fans and waving posters, he picks out your hand in an instant, turning to meet your gaze with his. there's something behind it that smolders, a volcano minutes before eruption, the warning smoke tossed high and dark and wide for all those who might understand the language of devastation.

you swallow hard and shoot him a small smile. for a second, you almost think that he's looked over by mistake, and hadn't seen you at all. but then, he drops his shirt and grins back, just the tiniest little thing. but you know him just as well as he knows you, knows him like a forest knows it's trees, like the wind knows the rustles of all her leaves. then, you press a hand to your chest and take a deep breath -- breathe, you think.

kageyama does; he breathes, just one breath, solid and deep. you see the tension leave his shoulders, the brightness flicker back into his eyes. and that's it. he turns back to resume his position; the whistle blows; play resumes.

but his next play is daring, is calculated, is precise, is perfect. and the shot slams home right on the baseline of the other side and the entire crowd is on its feet. you, alone, let out a long breath and drop back into your seat, smiling wide as kageyama pumps his fist, romero ruffles his hair, laughing. from beneath the celebratory forest of his teammates arms, he twists to look at you, casting you a much wider grin, one lined with teeth and sweetness both.

they make a comeback and steal the game in a nailbiting 5th set that goes into the 30s. but when the interviewer asks him how he managed to lead the team back to such a slim victory but a victory nonetheless, he pauses, dabs at a bit of sweat a the corner of his eye and says, "it wasn't easy. but you just keep your head and remember to breathe."

[mediocre-shark-tales]

The Debut Part 2

Masterlist

Interviews after the race were the worst part. Riding the high of my debut, I had forgotten how some people would still question me, regardless of how much I’d proven myself on track. Sure enough, an older interviewer wasted no time, diving straight into the skepticism.

“We didn’t see you here on media day. Would you say you weren’t mentally ready, given the backlash online about you stepping in for Lance?” he asked, his tone pointed.

I kept my expression bright, masking the sting behind his words with a smile. “Actually, I don’t mind what people think about me racing. My team requested permission from the FIA to excuse me from media day. I don’t know if it was our preparation yesterday that influenced their decision, but I’ll be here for all the other media days,” I replied confidently.

The reporter’s scowl hinted he’d hoped I’d falter. But he pressed on. “Can you explain why you disappeared from F2, only to suddenly show up in F1?”

Images flashed through my mind—my strong F2 season, the bittersweet moments with my mother, and my decision to leave to be by her side. Without missing a beat, I answered, “As my former team and I have always stated, I left to undergo the training Aston Martin required. Luckily, that timing allowed me to step in strongly for Lance after his accident. I wish him a strong recovery and hope to see him back next season.”

His frown deepened, as though frustrated by my composure. “You do know that no one buys that story, right? Plenty of insiders have come forward with other theories.”

I met his gaze with a smirk, catching him off guard. “I’ve seen those theories, and they’re certainly creative! But they’re reaching. I’d hope my real supporters pay attention to who’s sharing those stories—that alone could answer a lot of questions.” I took a breath, then added smoothly, “I love a bit of chaos as much as the next person, and if it’s at my expense, so be it. But I’ll prove myself on track. I can show you my personality, but if you already dislike me without knowing me, why should I try to change your mind?” I finished, my smile still firmly in place.

Finally, I was given the chance to move on from him, though I knew he wouldn’t be the last disrespectful interviewer I’d face. It was time to lock in and remind myself that I couldn't let their jabs or ignorant questions get under my skin. The media's skepticism would always be there, but I could choose how much of myself I shared with them.

It was time to bring up my walls again, to let the ‘daredevil’ persona I’d honed over the years take the lead. I’d mastered that version of myself—the unshakeable, casually confident, and unflinchingly witty driver who wouldn’t let anyone mess with her head. I was here to race, to show everyone exactly what I could do. And if I had to tune out the noise to keep my focus razor-sharp, then so be it.

Once I escaped the media pen, I heard my name called over the hum of busy teams rushing around. Marcus, who had been quietly with me throughout, looked back first. He turned to me with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got a few more things to wrap up. Once you’re changed and ready, find me in the Aston Martin Hospitality lobby, and we’ll head back to the hotel.” I nodded, watching him leave before turning toward the person calling my name.

It was Franco, of course, his signature smile lighting up his face as he approached with his PR manager in tow. “I was hoping to catch you before you took off,” he said quickly, then hesitated, his expression shifting to one of concern. “I heard what that guy said. Don’t let it get to you. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I know you belong here. After another race weekend or two, I bet you’ll have plenty of drivers on your side—even if I have to convince them myself.”

I returned his smile, touched by the sincerity in his voice, though I noticed something else—an edge to his tone, as if he was frustrated with the others. It felt like he knew something I didn’t, but I didn’t push. We weren’t that close yet, and if there was anything important, I trusted he’d tell me in his own time. For now, I was grateful just to have his support.

“Enough of the tough topics,” Franco said, shifting to a more cheerful tone. “I actually found out we’re on the same flight back to the UK. How about we sit together? I’d really like to get to know you better. It’s nice to have another rookie on the grid, but it would be even better if that rookie became a good friend of mine?”

I smiled, appreciating his honesty, and nodded. “Yeah, I’d love that. Here, let me give you my number so you can text me when you’re in the waiting area. We can meet up and figure out seats then.” As I handed him my phone, I added, “Do you know if any other drivers are on our flight? I’ve never been on one of these shared private charters. To get here, they just had me fly business class.”

Franco chuckled, noticing my nervousness. “Don’t worry, it’s a bit different, but you’ll get used to it. Plus, you’ll have me as your tour guide,” he said with a wink. “I honestly didn’t even check which other drivers were on this flight,” Franco admitted, his eyes glinting with a playful smile. “I just wanted an excuse to see you again.”

I felt a blush creep up at his flirty tone, and I laughed, brushing it off. “Well, you’ve got your excuse,” I replied, meeting his smile with one of my own. “Just don’t go using all your charm on me at once.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m saving some for the flight.”

Two hours later, freshly showered and packed, I made my way down to the hotel lobby. Marcus greeted me with a smile, already waiting with our bags by his side. Soon, we were off in an Uber, navigating the post-Grand Prix traffic around Monza. It didn’t take long before we arrived at the airport, and I gathered my bags, heading toward the entrance.

As I stepped through the doors, my phone buzzed with a new text notification. I pulled it out and smiled when I saw Franco’s name on the screen.

Hey, hermosa. I just got to the waiting area. You’ll find me by the big windows looking out at the planes.

I typed back quickly: Just got here too! I’ll be through security soon and meet you there.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I felt a little surge of excitement. After a long day, I couldn’t wait to unwind—and having Franco’s company on the flight would make the trip back a lot more enjoyable.

Security was surprisingly quick this time. Being a Formula 1 driver on a chartered jet with other team members seemed to come with its perks—no endless lines, just a fast check of my bags and a quick scan, and I was through in under five minutes. My larger bags were taken aside to be loaded onto the plane, leaving me with only my small personal bag for the flight.

Fidgeting with my sea turtle necklace, I glanced around the private waiting room, scanning for Franco. The place was buzzing with drivers and managers, some eyeing me with thinly veiled curiosity or judgment. Ignoring the glances, I finally spotted Franco, engrossed in his phone, lounging by the windows as he’d promised.

I walked over, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Franco looked up as I approached, flashing a grin as he moved his bag off the seat in front of him. Gratefully, I slid into the booth across from him, feeling a wave of relief as we exchanged a friendly smile. The tension from the room faded slightly with his friendly demeanor. 

“Finally, thought you’d gotten lost back there,” he teased, sliding his phone into his pocket.

I laughed, shrugging. “I was a little distracted by all the stares,” I admitted, glancing around the room. “Guess they’re not used to new faces—especially mine.”

He nodded sympathetically. “It’s their loss,” he said, shrugging it off. “I get the whole ‘new kid’ vibe too. It’s why I was so keen to talk to you. How are you finding it so far?”

“Intense,” I replied, chuckling. “It’s been a dream come true, obviously. But the media, the judgment, all of it’s been... a lot.”

Franco gave an understanding nod, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, they don’t really teach you how to handle all this quick enough, do they? I feel like we’re both just tossed in with the sharks and told, ‘Good luck.’” He grinned, then added, “But hey, you killed it today. I heard the team talking about it back there.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “You did too! I mean, holding off my DRS attack for that long? Impressive.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I was just praying my tires would hold out. Honestly, the whole time I thought, ‘If I screw up, she’s taking my place.’ Guess we’ll just have to keep each other sharp, yeah?”

“Deal,” I agreed, feeling my nerves ease. “Let’s make a pact—rookie alliance, right? We can look out for each other. Maybe have a few friendly competitions?”

Franco’s eyes lit up. “I like that idea. A little rivalry—who gets the most overtakes, or who makes it into Q3 first?” He paused, then smirked. “Loser buys the winner lunch?”

I grinned, nodding. “Oh, it’s on. And I hope you have an expensive taste, because I’m definitely winning.”

“Confident, huh?” he said with a laugh. “Alright, I’ll see if you can keep up. But really, it’ll be good to have someone who gets it, you know? We rookies have to stick together.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, feeling genuinely happy. “And hey, here’s to proving everyone wrong.”

Franco raised an imaginary glass. “To that,” he said with a wink.

Our conversation continued for a little while longer until it was finally time to board the plane. 

Franco and I found our own little area, of course it was a group of 4 seats facing each other. I sat across from Franco who watched to see if anyone else might join us. I could see both of the drivers from Mclaren and Mercedes. Of course there is also Alex and Fernando from our teams as well. 

As we settled into our seats, Franco glanced around the cabin, nodding toward the familiar faces. “Feels like a reunion of sorts,” he murmured, leaning back with a grin. “Wonder who’ll join us in our little corner of the plane here.”

I chuckled, glancing over to the other drivers too. “Honestly, it’s kind of surreal to be surrounded by them. Like, I grew up watching half of these guys race. Now here I am, sharing a plane with them.”

Franco smirked, lowering his voice. “You’re handling it well, though. Can’t even tell you’re fangirling inside.”

I playfully kicked his foot under the table. “Oh, please. You were the one practically glowing when Lewis said you defended well today.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged. But, hey, Lewis Hamilton is still a legend, no matter how chill he tries to be.”

Just then, I noticed Alex approaching with a water bottle. He paused, giving us both a slight nod. “Mind if I join?” he asked, glancing between us with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Franco shot me a quick look, as if to say, Is this okay? I nodded with a smile. “Of course, take a seat! We were just… rehashing the race,” I added with a laugh.

Alex slid into the seat next to Franco, giving a faint smile but avoiding my gaze just a bit. “You two held up the midfield well today. Gave the crowd something to watch.”

“Trying to make our rookie debuts memorable,” Franco said, shrugging but smiling.

Alex nodded, a little more reserved. “Good mindset to have. Just remember it’s a marathon, not a sprint. A few strong races don’t make a season. You’ve gotta keep that consistency.”

I leaned forward, intrigued despite his slightly distant tone. “How do you manage that? I mean, all the pressure, the criticism… how do you stay grounded?”

Alex glanced briefly at me, as if weighing his answer. “Honestly? You’ve gotta tune it out. Find people who believe in you—team, family, friends—and hold onto them. The rest? Noise.”

Franco nodded, clearly taking it all in. “Noted. I think we’re off to a good start, though, right?” He shot me a grin, his confidence unmistakable.

I smiled back, feeling a little reassured, though Alex's slight hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Definitely. And having each other’s backs just makes it easier.”

Alex gave a quick nod, looking out the window. “Yeah… it’ll help to know who’s really there for you.” His words felt weighted, leaving me with a feeling that maybe not everyone was convinced I belonged here—yet.

Hours passed as the plane hummed softly around us, and eventually, the lights dimmed, casting a warm, quiet glow across the cabin. Franco had fallen asleep, his head tilted slightly back, arms crossed. Across from us, most of the drivers had either slipped on sleep masks or simply leaned back, eyes shut, lost in much-needed rest.

But sleep evaded me. I leaned my head against the window, earbuds in, playing one of my favorite playlists on low volume. The familiar songs were meant to be comforting, but my mind raced far too much to relax. I glanced at Franco, then Alex, even Fernando a few seats away, all peacefully asleep. They seemed… unburdened, or at least at ease in a way I hadn’t felt since I first entered this chaotic world.

My thoughts drifted back to the interactions I’d had with some of the drivers over the past few days. The way Alex seemed hesitant earlier, the awkward silences in the paddock, the way some of the others had yet to fully acknowledge me. It wasn’t overt; most people were polite, but something lingered under the surface, a guardedness. And I had a sinking feeling I knew why.

I clutched the pendant of my necklace, my thumb running over the little sea turtle. If only they knew the truth, I thought bitterly. If they understood why I’d left my F2 team so suddenly, maybe they wouldn’t look at me like some sort of imposter who had jumped into F1 overnight.

But that truth—the time I spent away, the weeks I’d missed—wasn’t something I could just blurt out. It was private, a chapter of my life I’d had to keep from everyone. I had left F2 mid-season, not for any lack of commitment or a mysterious “training opportunity” as the media had said, but because I couldn’t bear to be anywhere else but by my mother’s side in her last days.

She’d kept her illness a secret from everyone except those closest to us, not wanting the world to see her in her most vulnerable moments. And I had honored that, staying silent even as the rumors spread that I’d gone MIA. That I’d given up. Or that maybe I just couldn’t handle the competition and pressure. My team had tried to cover for me, but the whispers had taken on a life of their own. It was strange; the further I pushed ahead, the more those rumors seemed to haunt me.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat and turning up the volume slightly, letting the music drown out the dull ache in my chest. Maybe they’ll see who I really am in time, I told myself. Maybe the track will speak for me, louder than any rumor. But part of me wondered if it would ever be enough. If, someday, they’d realize why I’d fought so hard to get here and just how much I’d given up to be in this seat.

With one last glance around the cabin, I took a shaky breath, steeling myself. I had a lot to prove—not just for me, but for my mother, who had believed in me until the very end.

[sanemistar]

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 mini love rival

contains ★ dad!tanjiro x fem!reader, fluff, established relationship (married with an unnamed son), 0.5k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ kny m.list

you’re sat on the soft bed in your shared bedroom with tanjiro. you’ve got your sleepy son, who’s a carbon copy of your husband, an exact mini version of him, in your lap. you look at him and you’re reminded once again of your husband. you hug your son while placing loving kisses on his cheek. you chuckle when a string of drool dribbles from the corner of his tiny lips onto your shirt, and a soft smile decorates your face as you look at his peaceful sleeping face.

just then, you hear the sound of jingling keys coming from the front door, which signals the return of your beloved husband.

he gives your forehead a tender kiss as he lays on the bed next to you, his calloused hand rests on your back and begins gently tracing every inch of it. however, you don’t give much of a reaction, your attention is still on your little one. which hurts him a little, you used to immediately turn around and shower him with kisses whenever he touched you.

he doesn't give up though and tries again, this time he gets behind you, both his hands are firmly locked on your waist, hugging you tightly against his chest as he softly nibbles on the crook of your neck, and the most reaction you give is a soft hum.

and it instantly puts him in quite a sulky mood, announcing his defeat.

“i guess i’d just earned myself a mini love rival.” he mumbles against your ear, still sulky over you ignoring him earlier. “i think you’re being stolen away from me.”

you gently place your son on the side, careful not to wake him up from his deep slumber. and finally look at tanjiro, who has a pout on his face. you cup his cheeks in your hands and place a soft peck on his lips.

“jiro, don’t tell me.. are you jealous?” you give his cheeks a squish as you tease him.

“m-maybe.” you watch your husband’s face gradually reddens as he replies shyly, and you laugh at his honesty which you find adorable.

he leaves you momentarily and holds his son, who’s still sleeping so soundly, in his arms.

“don’t think about stealing her from me.” in a quiet tone, tanjiro playfully warns his little one, and you chuckle at how cute and childish your husband is at that moment.

“he’s your son.” you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes meet his wide, dark red ones.

“but you, you’ll always be my first love.” you whisper to him ever so sweetly. and it's true, sure you now have another little one to love. but to you, tanjiro will always be the first man you've ever loved and given your heart to.

he smiles at you affectionately as he softly brushes his nose against yours.

being married to tanjiro means you don’t have only one baby, but two. and you have no complaints about it, really. in fact, you wouldn't want it any other way.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @itoshivy @hanaeriin @spkyssn @stunies @17020 @kalsplace