#unless there was one and i just missed it

[moonlightwritingf1]

Lost in You | LN4

❥ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando accidentally comes inside Y/N for the first time.

❥ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❥ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.3k

❥ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie,

Based on this request.

The first thing Lando noticed when he stepped into her apartment was her. Her scent, that soft, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something uniquely her, lingered in the air. It made him forget the exhaustion of the race, the jet lag, the chaos of Monaco. All that mattered was the woman standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her lips.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. She was wearing that outfit—the one with the oversized hoodie that she swore wasn’t his but definitely was—and a pair of tiny black shorts that made his mouth go dry.

Lando dropped his bag by the door and strode toward her, his heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the race. “Late? I came straight from the airport,” he countered, his voice low, teasing. He stopped just inches from her, his gaze locking with hers. “Unless you’re telling me you missed me that much.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, he loved that about her. The way she tried to play it cool, like she wasn’t just as desperate for him as he was for her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her waist, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re such a tease,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“And you’re a liar,” he shot back, his lips curving into a grin. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Admit it, you’ve been thinking about me all week.”

She shivered, her nails digging into his chest just enough to make him groan. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off easy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound dark and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

–

Their clothes were scattered across the floor within minutes, a trail leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. She was on her knees on the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as Lando stood behind her, his hands exploring every curve of her body. His touch was possessive, claiming, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, and she whimpered, her hips pushing back into him.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice shaky, desperate. She reached back, her fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made her toes curl.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I’ve got you.”

His grip tightened, and she gasped as he pulled her back, her ass pressing against him. He smirked, his fingers digging into her skin as he gave her a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, and she cried out, her body trembling.

“Fuck,” she panted, her fingers tightening in the sheets. “Do that again.”

Lando obliged, his hand coming down on her ass with a force that made her moan. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

He groaned, his hands sliding around to her front, his fingers teasing her clit. “Show me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

She arched her back, her body moving with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate. Her hips rolled against his hand, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Lando’s breath hitched as he watched her, his fingers working her clit with a precision that made her toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body trembled with every touch, every stroke.

Her moans grew louder, more urgent, filling the room with a symphony of need. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name. Her hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white as she clung to them for dear life. “Please... don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers moved faster, harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it building, that familiar tension coiling in her belly, tightening until she thought she might burst. And then she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath his touch. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent.

But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

Lando’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She was still on her hands and knees, her back arched perfectly, her ass presented to him like a gift. The sight alone made his cock throb, hard and aching, desperate for her. He ran his hand down the curve of her spine, feeling the way she shivered under his touch, before sliding it lower, over the swell of her ass. He gave her a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, and she gasped, her body jolting forward.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness between her thighs, teasing her entrance, already slick and ready for him. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered, her head dropping between her shoulders as she pressed back against his hand. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. Gripping the base of his cock, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip pressing against her warmth. He paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the way her body trembled beneath him. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Her breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “God, Lando,” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “You feel so big.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled out slightly, only to thrust back in, deeper this time. The sensation was overwhelming—her tightness, her heat, the way her body clenched around him like she was made for him. He couldn’t get enough of the view: her on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass right there, begging for him. It was primal, possessive, and it drove him wild.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growled, his pace quickening. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, each one hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out. “You take me so well.”

She whimpered, her body rocking back to meet his every thrust, each one driving him deeper, harder, until she felt like he was everywhere—inside her, around her, consuming her. His cock stretched her in the most delicious way, filling her so completely that it almost hurt, but in the best kind of way. The angle was perfect, his length hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur and her toes curl into the sheets. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he moved, thick and unrelenting, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking, trembling with the intensity of it all. Her hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “You feel... so big. So good.”

Her words were barely coherent, but they sent a jolt through him, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her with even more force. She cried out, her body arching, her ass pressing back against him as if she couldn’t get enough. And she couldn’t. Every thrust was a revelation, his cock sliding in and out of her with a slick, wet sound that only heightened the heat between them. She could feel him everywhere—the stretch of her walls around him, the way her body clenched and fluttered, trying to pull him deeper, keep him there forever.

“I’m close,” she panted, her voice shaky, desperate. Her thighs trembled, her entire body taut like a bowstring, ready to snap. “Please, Lando, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His pace became relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, each one hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. 

He could feel it too—the way her walls tightened around him, the way her body trembled with the force of her impending release. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach. “Come for me, love,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

And she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath him. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent. But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He kept thrusting, driving her through her orgasm, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. “I can’t hold back.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he did. His release washed over him, hot and intense, as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapsed over her, his chest heaving, his heart racing as they both came down from the high. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the feel of their bodies pressed together, and the undeniable truth that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando’s body tightened, every muscle coiled like a spring as he thrust into her one final time, deeper than before, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, her body arching, her walls clamping down around him in a desperate, pulsing rhythm. It was too much—the heat, the tension, the way she squeezed him—and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, his release hit him like a tidal wave, hot and relentless, spilling deep inside her. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her, filling her with every drop.

She felt it—the way he twitched inside her, the warmth flooding her, the sheer force of his orgasm rippling through him. It sent her over the edge again, her own body shuddering as she came with him, waves of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Lando collapsed forward, his chest pressed against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as their bodies trembled together, both of them drowning in the aftershocks.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing—fast, unsteady, synchronized—and the heat of their skin pressed together, slick with sweat. Lando buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips brushing against her shoulder in a soft, reverent kiss. His fingers traced her waist, possessive and gentle all at once, like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and wild, against her back, matching the frantic pace of her own. His weight felt grounding, comforting, like he was anchoring her to the moment, to him. He gave a shaky exhale, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as though his limbs had given out. Even in his exhaustion, his hands explored her body lightly, caressing her soft skin as if to remind them both they were still present, and still on their high. Instinctively, she turned her head to kiss his cheek, using the hands that once clutched the bedsheets, to stroke his hand on her waist.

She knew right then—they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando pulled out slowly, his breath still ragged, his body trembling with the remnants of his orgasm. She gasped softly, the sensation of him slipping out of her strangely intimate, the space he left behind warm and empty. But then she felt it—the unmistakable trickle of his release leaking out of her. Her thighs twitched, a shiver running through her as she savored the sensation, strange but intoxicating. She could feel the warmth of it, slow and deliberate, sliding down her sensitive skin. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, her body still on that high, still craving more of him.

But when Lando looked down, his body suddenly stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered, his eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft.

He ran a hand through his damp curls, his heart racing. “I—I came inside you,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, it’s never—I never—”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached up, cupping his cheek. “Lando,” she said, her tone calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”

He blinked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. “Positive.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. “But it’s cute that you’re freaking out.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, voice muffled against her skin.

She laughed, the sound soft and full of warmth. “You’re stuck with me, Norris,” she teased, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

His words sent warmth flooding through her, settling deep in her chest. She felt it again—that slow, intimate reminder of how close they’d been, how much he’d given her. The weight of it lingered between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Don’t move,” he murmured suddenly, his voice still rough but gentle. He shifted off the bed, his movements slightly unsteady, and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running, a soft clatter, and then he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

She turned her head, watching him as he knelt beside her, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t quite name—devotion, maybe, or tenderness. Gently, he pressed the cloth between her thighs, his touch careful, almost tender. She inhaled sharply, the warmth of the cloth contrasting with the cool air of the room, the sensation both soothing and intimate. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the curve of her thigh, and she let out a soft sigh, her body still humming with pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with concern.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she whispered. “It feels... good.” Her cheeks flushed as she admitted it, but she couldn’t help it—the thought of him inside her, filling her so completely, made her heart race all over again.

He studied her, his brow furrowing slightly, before smirking, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Good?” he repeated, his voice dipping into that playful tone she both loved and hated. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. “Not like I want to,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his hand where it still rested on her thigh.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her hip, his breath warm against her skin. “Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He finished cleaning her up, his touches tender, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was done, he dropped the cloth onto the floor and slid back into bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady under her ear. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of what this meant, of where they were going. He’d given her everything—his body, his heart, and now, this.

It was theirs, and no one could take it away.

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy.

He smiled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, the warmth of his touch making her shiver. “I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice low, raw. “More than you can imagine.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “It felt... good,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him through her lashes, her heart pounding in her chest. “When you came inside me. It was... really hot.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. His hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. “Tell me more.”

She bit her lip, her body already humming with the memory. “Feeling it... inside me,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “And then, when it started to drip out...” She shuddered, her thighs pressing together instinctively. “It was so fucking hot.”

He groaned, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Fuck, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His other hand slid up to her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, his lips brushing against her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt the heat of his body against hers. “Do it again,” she whispered, her voice shaky but bold. “Come inside me again. I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

Lando growled, the sound sending a thrill through her. His lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss, his hands moving to her hips, holding her steady. “You’re killing me, love,” he muttered against her lips, his breath hot, ragged. “But fuck, if I don’t want to do exactly that.”

She moaned, her body arching into his, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m yours, Lando. All yours.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing with intensity. “And I’m yours,” he said, his voice low, commanding. “Every fucking part of me.”

Then he kissed her again, deep and demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she knew then—he never would.

[kashverse]

My heart hurts for the lack of Toji requests 💔 but I am here…begging…for Toji fluff!!!! 🙈

i wanted to make this more cutesy but it became more funny instead LOL but please enjoy and do send more toji requests <3

megumi's got his little scout uniform all neat and tidy, the stupid hat sitting just right on his head like he's about to go door to door selling overpriced popcorn. he's standing there, all serious, tiny hands balled into fists, because he's been told that scouts are honorable, disciplined, and always prepared.

meanwhile, in the other corner of the house, your husband is getting ready for his daily activities, and let’s just say—toji’s version of "always prepared" involves an arsenal that would make a war general nervous.

"you got everything, gumi?" you ask, adjusting his collar. megumi, ever the professional, nods. "yes."

his checklist is immaculate. ✔ scout hat? on. ✔ badges? pinned (though he thinks they’re useless unless one is for hand-to-hand combat). ✔ badtz-maru socks? absolutely. (toji has no idea what the hell those are, but he keeps seeing that angry little penguin everywhere).

you give him a proud little pat, while behind you, there's a very different checklist happening.

✔ gun? loaded. ✔ knife? strapped to the thigh. ✔ sword? sharpened, because subtlety is not in this man’s vocabulary. ✔ grenade? just in case.

“alright, kid, don’t forget the scout motto," you say.

“be prepared.”

“good—”

CLICK.

you turn. toji’s just finished checking the safety on one of his guns, strapping it to his back like he’s starring in some underground action flick. megumi squints at him. 

“...what’s papa's motto?”

“uh…” you try to think of a way to phrase ‘leave no witnesses’ in a scout-friendly way. toji, who is in the middle of loading another weapon, grins. 

“work hard, play hard.”

megumi does not look convinced.

"oi, don’t gimme that look," toji says, shoving a blade into his belt loop. "you got your uniform, i got mine."

megumi crosses his arms. “mine doesn't come with weapons.” toji, without missing a beat, smirks. "sounds like a you problem."

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "toji, can you at least pretend to be a law-abiding citizen for five minutes? megumi’s going to do good deeds and earn his badges."

"so am i," toji says, patting the sword on his back like a proud dad watching his kid go off to college. megumi side-eyes him. "what kind of badge do you get for that?"

"money," toji says smoothly. "lots of it."

megumi seems to consider this for a long moment. then, with the biggest, most exaggerated sigh a five-year-old can muster, he tugs his scout hat lower and marches toward the door. “whatever. let's just go sell some popcorn.”

toji slaps a hand over his heart. "attitude like that, you’re never gonna get your capitalism badge, kid."

[starry-bi-sky]

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[zeropro]

can i kindly ask for a summary of how time is measured in your au? mostly the cycle/year stuff, im not sure if it's lifted from elsewhere or your own creation — either way i think it's really cool :) world building is awesome

very sorry if you've already gone over this elsewhere

Oh sure! I spent way too long figuring this out so i might as well explain it.

The cybertronian calendar goes in one direction forever unless a new Prime decides to reset it. Nova Prime reset the calendar when he declared the new Golden Age of Expansion, which is why Megatron’s canon Birthday is so small (1st cycle 012) as he was among the first Cold Constructed mechs onlined, and that started with Nova.

The only unit of measurement that we seem to have solidified is Vorns, which is 83 earth years (earth years=stellar cycle). The calendar’s cycles are measured by vorn, the first number counts vorn, and every 24 vorn the second number ticks up. after 24th cycle 12 it would become 1st cycle 013 and then 2nd cycle 013.

There…actually is no unit of time for the second measurement as far as I can tell, so I have no idea what to call it, but essentially you would say Megatron’s birthday as first cycle O’twelve, and people would know he was born 23904-ish years after Nova Prime’s calendar went in effect.

24 vorns is roughly 2000 years and every 500 dates on the calendar is roughly one million years.

I developed this calendar system based on the actual dates we do have in IDW1, I decided 24 vorns are when the calendar turns over because the war starts about a million years after Megatron’s birth and the canon dates for most of those events are in the 500s. I did have to ignore the single canon date set in the 51st cycle for this, but all the other dates are within the 1 to 14 range. And this is taking into consideration that the calendar probably reset some time under Zeta Prime (which is why the Battle of Sherma Bridge where Megatron and the newly anointed Optimus Prime allegedly duked it out for the first time happens in 2nd Cycle 087 even tho Megatron was beat up by Whirl in jail before the war in 4th Cycle 496). Some of the inconsistencies I also chalk up to some bots still using the old calendar. the only date I really cant figure out is 6th Cycle 356 being confirmed to be “half a million years ago” like?? Eh?? Ultra Magnus’ last fatality was pre earth pretty sure and that happened in the 3800’s (of nova’s calendar pretty sure). Maybe they missed a zero at the end of the date or something idk XD 3560 would make so much more sense for half a million years ago.

Also, 83 years is a long time and it does seem like they have smaller units of dating called chords and arcs but I just assume thats like days and months to us and I cant be bothered to figure it out. not enough info about it anyway. I’m sure one of those tracks stellar cycles and the other tracks cybertronian days.

i think the only other unit of time I've used is deca-cycles, just cuz I like how it sounds. a deca-cycle is about a month, or three weeks.

Megatron and Skywarp were constructed earlier on (012 and 023 respectivly), Thundercracker was constructed closer to when the matrix “ran dry” probably in the 100s, and Starscream was commissioned by Cryak at the end of the millenia, in the late 400s, after they’d stopped constructing seekers entirely. He must not have been more than a few vorns old when he met Thundercracker.

Starscream and Skyfire’s expedition would have taken them 40 on the calendar to get to earth, based on Skyfire’s shuttle speed. Starscream probably would have been able to make it back to cybertron a little bit faster.

I referenced this and this page of the wiki while working on this. Most of my worldbuilding is extrapolation from canon.

yes i did all this for one joke.

A few more timeline stuff: Megatron is about .7 million years older than Starscream, and Starscream is about half a million years older than the start of the war. The war lasted 3 million years before they crash landed on earth after which they went into stasis for one million years. Some time after they landed on earth, Shockwave successfully clones Sunstorm.

and in case you were wondering, sunny's serial code is referencing his Collector's Edition toy's ID number (089). SC stands for Seeker Class. they run out of glyphs slots after 999 so they sort them into batches. Sunny is the 089th frame built in batch 16. whether that means his frame was already built and left empty in storage somewhere and then repurposed by Shockwave, or Shockwave built him from scratch based on the blueprints and just continued the serial code sequence, I haven't decided. but either way, it means there was a finite number of seekers brought into the world and they dont even make up a whole united states city's worth of people. Lots of them are dead by now anyway. The whole cybertronian race is so small now they are all on first name bases with each other XD. But i digress, none of that has to do with time or calendar stuff, just thought it was fun.

thanks for asking!!

[thesquidkid]

I want to add into this with my own experience as someone who was never grounded/severely punished/got my phone taken away vs my friends who did.

A lot of my friends would get in serious trouble if they missed curfew, they would get grounded, get their phones taken away, had to do a bunch of extra chores etc. And yet they still missed curfew a lot. The punishment was short term (it had a limit date) and they felt like they were rebelling against their parents for coming home late.

I was never punished for missing curfew. I was told off sure, but most importantly, my mum told me that if I wasn't home at the time I said I would be, they would worry about me. I also could choose my own curfew (within something reasonable if it was a school night - and if my parents didn't agree with the time I gave then we calmly discussed it and came to a common curfew time for the day), and the time could be different from one day to the next, so I felt a sense of responsibility to be home by the time that I had chosen.

There was one time when I was 12 (just before I got a mobile phone) where I said to my parents I would be home by 19h (basically unless specified I had to be home before my dad got home, which would be around then), except I got lost and I only got home at 21h. (Long story short, my parents called the cops and my school, and I tried to call them but no adult wanted to lend me their phone, it was a whole thing)

I wasn't grounded tho. The next day (or the following weekend, I don't really remember the details) we went to buy me a phone. And from then on, if I got lost, or if there was a problem with public transport, I would call and let them know. And I never missed curfew again.

My friends did tho. A lot. And they tried to convince me that I should stay out longer etc. But my parents installed this sense of responsibility in me, to be home at a certain time, not because of the consequences of if I didn't, but out of respect for the fact that we were living together. Which most of my friends didn't understand. (At least not at 16)

Long story short: punishing your kids because they miss curfew is not the way to go, instead explain to them why this curfew is in place.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[mylovesstuffs]

Objection, Your Honor ! – Lee Chan

Genre: Non-idol au, legal au, detective-prosecutor au, workplace romance and enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dino × fem!reader

Content: Office romance, crime-solving duo/trio, tension, banter, flawed characters, detective/prosecutor dynamic, explicit sexual content MDNI! strong language, intense arguments, suggestive comments, making out, lotssss of kissing, Dino is cocky, reader loses her patience 99% of the time

Word count: 8657 words

A/N: Had to add the word razor every chance I got, lol. I expanded this picture of him with ai since it didn’t fit before. I changed his hair strands, skin, and stuff—and even his eye lenses myself meticulously (not ai). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please reblog :( and happiest birthday to our Dino! He’s amazing just the way he is—so full of energy, talent, and charm that he never fails to inspire us all. I hope this year brings him nothing but happiness, success, and moments where he feels truly proud of everything he’s accomplished. He’s one of a kind, and the world is brighter because of him. I’m still waiting for him to give me a chance, though...

The slam of the file against your desk was so loud it nearly toppled your coffee mug. You flinched but didn’t look up immediately. No, acknowledging theatrics only fed the beast. Instead, you calmly capped your pen, setting it down with deliberate precision. He hated when you did this—acted like you had all the time in the world when he came storming in.

“You’re welcome for the heart attack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You exhaled slowly through your nose before finally glancing up. There he was, Detective Lee Chan—better known as Dino, the human embodiment of caffeine and stupidity. His tie was undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face, as if he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Detective,” you said with a polite nod, lacing your voice with as much fake sweetness as you could muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unexpected visit?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sliding the file closer to you. “A slam-dunk case. You’ll love it. All the evidence is right there. Can’t miss.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Last time you said that, I spent three weeks untangling jurisdiction issues. Do you even know how many late nights I had to pull because of you?”

Dino wasn’t actually an idiot no matter how many reckless decisions he makes. His instincts were razor-sharp, his record impeccable, and annoyingly enough he was usually right when it mattered. Last month, for example, his so-called ‘gut feeling’ about a drug ring being connected to a string of convenience store robberies was spot-on. His lead cracked open a case that had stumped everyone else for months. But damn if his delivery didn’t make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Dino, unbothered by your skepticism. “Yeah, but we nailed that drug ring, didn’t we?”

You hated when he was right and he knew it. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling the top file toward you and flipping it open. A mid-level burglary case, nothing too flashy at first glance. But as you skimmed through his notes, it was tight, methodical, and annoyingly thorough—you spotted the potential for something bigger.

“This better not be a ‘just trust me’ situation,” you said, glancing up at him. “If I’m staying late over this, it better pay off.”

He grinned, pushing off the desk. “Relax, Prosecutor. You know I don’t miss. This one’s airtight.”

And the thing that frustrated you most was that, you knew he was probably right. Dino didn’t swing unless he knew he’d hit the target. But it didn’t mean you had to let him bask in the glory without making him sweat first.

Now you opened the next file flipping through the pages. But this time the further you read, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. And not in a good way. This wasn’t a slam dunk. It wasn’t even a half-hearted layup.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head as you thumbed through the mess of paperwork. “You interrogated the suspect without a lawyer present?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t ask for one.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “You didn’t inform him of his rights properly, did you?”

“Details, details.”

“And this eyewitness? The one who conveniently claims they saw the suspect fleeing the scene? They’re twelve, Dino. Twelve.”

“Kids are observant!” he protested.

“They’re also notoriously unreliable in court. Oh, and let’s not forget this,” you said, holding up a grainy surveillance photo that looked like it had been taken with a potato. “Is this your so-called smoking gun? Because it could literally be anyone.”

Dino, arms crossed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just presented you with a flaming dumpster fire disguised as a case. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!” He sat up, his chair scraping against the floor. “The point is, this guy is guilty. I know it. You know it. Hell, even he knows it. Why are you so hung up on the technicalities?”

“Technicalities?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your best efforts. “You mean the law? The thing we’re both supposedly here to uphold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the lecture. Do you even care about justice, or is paperwork your true love?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do you even care about rules, or is your brain just made of air?”

The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. For a minute, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

There was a reason the firm always paired you with Dino for the cases no one else could touch, the ones buried under decades of dust or tangled in enough red tape to suffocate an entire department. It wasn’t because you liked each other—oh, God, no. The mere sight of Dino’s cocky smirk had you fantasizing about slamming his face into your meticulously organized desk. And you were pretty sure your obsession with the rulebook made him consider hurling you off the nearest courthouse steps.

No, the firm didn’t stick you together because you worked well; they did it because you got results.

Dino was a wildcard in the courtroom. He was reckless in a way that somehow always paid off. He’d bend every rule in the book, dive headfirst into risks that no sane professional would take, and then, just when everyone thought he was about to crash and burn, he’d pull off a result so airtight it left no room for appeal. To him, the law wasn’t some sacred structure but a weapon to be wielded, a chessboard where his unpredictable moves kept everyone including you on edge. But then there was you: the polar opposite. Where Dino thrived on improvisation, you thrived on preparation. Every motion you filed was flawless. Every precedent cited, every objection raised, was calculated. You built cases brick by brick, layering facts, timelines, and evidence until there was no room for doubt. You didn’t gamble, didn’t deviate, didn’t take risks. You didn’t need to because your method was bulletproof.

So, of course, throwing the two of you together was a recipe for war. You didn’t just clash; you collided like two freight trains on a collision course. Dino would rush into a strategy meeting late, armed with some half-baked plan, reeking of coffee and audacity, while you’d already drafted three versions of the closing argument. You’d roll your eyes at his recklessness; he’d scoff at your obsession with boring technicalities. It wasn’t just your approaches that set you off, though. It was the way he got under your skin. Dino had this uncanny ability to needle you in just the right way. He’d make some offhand comment about your obsession with color-coded spreadsheets or the way you probably alphabetized your sock drawer and you’d feel your blood pressure skyrocket. But you weren’t innocent, either. You knew exactly how to press his buttons, whether it was calling his brilliant-but-illegal idea juvenile or quietly rephrasing his arguments in court to make them admissible without giving him credit. And yet as much as you hated each other, the firm couldn’t stop throwing you together. Those cases where everything was on the line, went to you and Dino. Why? Because for all the throat-slitting arguments, for all the nights you spent slamming doors and trading insults that could scorch earth, you delivered. Together.

It wasn’t pretty. Your fights were the stuff of office legend. Once, he stormed into your workspace at 2 a.m. after you’d rejected one of his leads as ‘inadmissible garbage.’ You’d stood toe-to-toe, voices raised to the point that security came by to check if someone was being assaulted. Another time, you’d shredded one of his witness strategies so thoroughly in a meeting that the room fell silent. Dino didn’t speak to you for three days after that which, honestly, was the most peaceful stretch of your career. But whenever you were on a case together, something just clicked. Dino’s instincts and risk-taking cracked open doors that no amount of careful planning ever could. Meanwhile, your meticulous follow-through turned his madcaps into something actionable. It was maddening, really. He’d drag you into situations so precarious they felt like career suicide, and you’d spend hours, sometimes days, pulling everything back from the brink. But in the end it always paid off.

Take the Serrano case, for example. A cold case involving a missing heiress, dismissed as a dead end by everyone else. Dino had dragged you into some dilapidated motel off the interstate to interrogate a retired cop. The guy’s statement wasn’t even admissible, and you told Dino as much, several times, in increasingly colorful language. But damned if Dino didn’t come away with a critical piece of information: the location of a long-abandoned storage locker. The locker led to evidence, which led to a confession, which led to a headline-making conviction. And as much as you hated to admit it, the case would’ve gone nowhere without his reckless brilliance. Of course, Dino never let you live it down. “You’re welcome,” he’d say, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t nearly given you an ulcer.

The truth was, you couldn’t stand Dino because you saw what made him dangerous: he was too smart for his own good. He didn’t play by the rules because he didn’t need to. He could charm his way out of trouble, think on his feet, and pull victories out of situations that should’ve been unwinnable. And that terrified you, because it made you question everything you believed about the law, about order, about the system you’d built your entire career on. And Dino couldn’t stand you because you represented everything he hated: authority, rigidity, rules. He thought you were too stuck in your ways to see the bigger picture, too concerned with ticking boxes to actually fight for justice. He saw your meticulousness as a cage, not a strength. You didn’t see eye to eye, you barely saw each other as human but when it came to the job, you were a fucking force of nature. And that’s what made working with Dino so antagonizing. Because for all the fights, all the late-night shouting matches, there was a small, annoying part of you that knew you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side in the trenches. You both respected each other. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but deep down, you knew Dino wasn’t just reckless; he was brilliant. And he knew you weren’t just a stickler for rules; you were a goddamn powerhouse in the courtroom.

So, the firm kept throwing you together, because when you weren’t busy trying to rip each other’s throats out, you were unstoppable. And that was the most infuriating part of all.

“I care about catching culprits,” Dino said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. So maybe you could try trusting me for once instead of nitpicking every little thing I do.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, equal parts frustration and something you didn’t want to name or maybe it was just you. “You think I don’t trust you?” your voice low. “This isn’t about trust, Dino. We need to do it the right way. Because if we don’t, the culprits walk. And that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held your gaze, his dark brown eyes searching yours. It was maddening, the way he could make you feel like the bad guy when he was the one who barged in here with his half-baked case and his cocky attitude.

Finally, he stepped, grabbing both files off your desk. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want it done your way? Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this guy slips through your fingers.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your office with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

God, you hated him.

…Right?

Two

The crime scene smelled like damp concrete and stale cigarettes. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the whole place feel like a bad noir film except the lead detective was a walking disaster, and you were too pissed off to even pretend to care about aesthetics.

You arrived late, thanks to traffic and Dino conveniently forgetting to send you the exact location until the last minute. When you finally pushed through the throng of officers, there he was, doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped as you stormed over, heels clicking sharply against the cracked pavement.

Dino was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, smirking at the suspect he’d cornered—a wiry guy with a nervous tic and shifty eyes. The kind of guy whose lawyer would have a field day with this.

“Prosecutor,” Dino drawled, straightening up when he saw you. “Glad you could join us. You missed all the fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you bit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to the suspect, who looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. “I’m getting answers. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You’re not supposed to be interrogating him yet! We don’t even have his lawyer present—”

Dino cut you off with a dismissive wave. “Relax. He waived his right to a lawyer.”

You turned to the suspect, your voice controlled but wanting to cut throats. “Did you actually waive your right, or did he pressure you into saying that?”

“I—uh—” the guy stammered, his eyes darting between you and Dino like he was watching a tennis match.

“Don’t answer that,” Dino interrupted, stepping in front of the suspect like some overprotective guard dog, which you kinda agree with since he is a dog. “You’re not his lawyer.”

“And you’re not a fucking prosecutor!” you almost shouted, stepping closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. “Detective, do you have any idea how much you’ve jeopardized this case? This isn’t some TV cop drama where you can just rough someone up and hope it sticks!”

Dino’s smirk widened, which only made you angrier. “You’re so uptight, I’m surprised your shoes don’t file complaints against you.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who probably keeps a bail fund in his back pocket,” you sneered. “And for the record, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for stupidity yet.”

He laughed, low and irritatingly amused. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, though whether it was from rage or the way his voice dipped just slightly on the word cute, you refused to analyze. “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this into one of your pathetic jokes. This is serious, Dino. You’ve completely screwed my angle for the prosecution!”

“And what angle would that be?” he shot back. “Letting this guy lawyer up and walk out the door before we can get anything useful? You’re too busy playing by the rules to actually win.”

“You think winning means cutting corners and breaking the law?”

“I think winning means putting culprits behind bars,” he said, his voice hard now. “But hey, maybe that’s just me. What do I know, right? I’m just the reckless idiot who actually works the streets.”

Oh, God, you hated him. And right now, you hated him even more for standing too close, for taking up too much space in the already suffocating air between you. Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out reason, a deep, thrumming beat that you were sure he could hear. You prayed he couldn’t, but Dino always noticed things he wasn’t supposed to. It pressed against your skin, heated and unrelenting, until it felt like the walls might cave in from the sheer force of it. He didn’t move, of course. He never did. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to step back to get some air or close the too-small space entirely, if only to finally shut him up. It was never just about the law with him, never just about his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules while you meticulously dotted every i and crossed every t.

You glared at him, the tension crackled between you like a live wire, sharp and dangerous. For a split second, you wondered what would happen if you closed the already too-small space between you.

Would he flinch? Would you?

His eyes darted to your mouth for the briefest of moments, a flicker, gone almost as soon as it happened. But it was enough. Your breath caught, and your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

Fuck.

No. Absolutely not.

You took a deliberate step back, breaking whatever the hell that was. “We’re done here,” you said, your voice clipped. “And don’t even think about pulling this kind of shit again, or I swear to God—”

“Relax, babygirl,” he said, holding up his hands to mock. “I’ll play nice. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” you muttered, brushing past him. As you walked away, you felt his gaze linger on your back, heavy and unrelenting. It made your skin prickle in a way you hated.

-

The precinct’s parking lot was quiet except for the muffled sounds of traffic in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. You had barely made it halfway to your car when you heard footsteps behind you, quick and purposeful.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dino called out, his voice carrying easily through the still night air.

You stopped, gripping your bag tighter before turning around slowly, your expression set in stone. “What do you want now, Dino? Haven’t you ruined enough for one day?”

He strode up to you, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk plastered across his face like he had all the energy in the world to piss you off. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, Prosecutor. Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own self-righteousness in the dark.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Touching. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your chivalry, Detective”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer, “someone’s gotta look out for you. You’re too busy being uptight to notice when you’re walking into traffic.”

You glared at him, your pulse spiking as he invaded your space yet again. “Funny coming from the guy who bulldozes through cases like a goddamn wrecking ball. Do you ever stop to think, or is ‘consequences’ just not in your vocabulary?”

Dino smirked, his voice dropping to a cocky drawl. “You’re good at running your mouth. Maybe someone should put it to better use.”

The words hit you like a slap, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. “Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, practically daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes dark and glinting under the streetlight. “Look at you—so sure you’re in control. So convinced you’ve got everything figured out. But you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, fury, sharper and hotter—coiling in your chest. “You think you’re that someone?” you hissed. “Please. You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You think you can handle me?” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and infuriatingly intoxicating. “You’re cute. I could bring you to your knees before you can even blink. And I’d love to see you there.”

The audacity of him, the sheer arrogance, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins. “You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving at his chest, though it felt more like swatting at a brick wall. “I wouldn’t kneel for you if my life depended on it.”

Dino grinned, sharp and predatory. “You talk a big game, but you’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you hate that you can’t control me.”

“I hate that you exist,” your voice shaking with anger.

The space between you crackling with an energy that was equal parts infuriating and magnetic. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Finally, you stepped back, breaking the spell. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest. “Stay out of my cases, Dino. This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess.”

He laughed, low and unrepentant. “Sure thing, babygirl. Whatever you say.”

You whirled around and marched to your car, your hands trembling as you unlocked the door. As you slid into the driver’s seat, you could see him pulling his middle finger up at you. That bastard was going to be the death of you.

Three

The morning was already too early, and you were fighting the urge to strangle the first person who dared speak to you. The courtroom smelled like the stale coffee that had long gone cold, and the air felt thick, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. You had a long day ahead, one that started with you walking into the courthouse, still wiping sleep out of your eyes trying to make sense of the case that had already given you a goddamn headache.

You reached your desk, scanning the papers in front of you, mentally prepping for the battle ahead you were about to step into. Not today though, today you were placing your trust in your colleague, Prosecutor Jeonghan.

"Morning, hotshot!" Seungkwan's voice cut through the haze, a little too chipper for the crack of dawn. Your bestie aka the only person who could somehow manage to brighten the darkest corners of a place like this. He grinned as he plopped into the chair next to you, tossing a coffee your way. "You ready to face the disaster that is Dino today?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?" you muttered, rubbing your temples as you took a sip. "I don't even think I can handle his nasty face right now."

Seungkwan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come on, you love it. You just won't admit it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. You both knew it wasn’t that simple, but for the sake of today, you weren’t going to unpack the mess that was your relationship with Dino. It had enough layers to rival an onion, and right now you didn’t have time to cry over the metaphorical scent.

"Alright, you two," Seungcheol, the chief officer assigned to the case and both of your close friend, chimed in with a grin as he entered, stretching his arms. "Get ready for some fireworks. Dino's already pissing off the defense lawyer out there. And honestly, Jeonghan looks proud."

Jeonghan was a menace, no doubt about it, but he was also a goddamn genius. He was the kind of prosecutor who could make you question your career choices every time you shared a courtroom. He wasn’t just a menace; he was a finely tuned madness wrapped in a tailored suit, armed with a smirk that said, I know something you don’t. And he probably did. If there was anyone you’d trust to handle something when you couldn’t or just flat-out refused—it was him. He had the kind of street smarts you couldn’t teach, an instinct for reading people that felt almost psychic at times. Jeonghan wasn’t loud or brash like Dino, but his calm, almost predatory confidence was just as hot. He wasn’t just clever, he was deviously resourceful. If evidence didn’t align perfectly, Jeonghan would find a way to weave it into a narrative that made the jury sit up straighter, lean in closer and eat out of his hand. He didn’t play dirty, not technically, but he’d push right up against the edge of what was permissible, flashing that gremlin smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Witnesses loved him, judges respected him, and opposing counsel fucking feared him. And rightly so. Jeonghan didn’t just know the law—he understood the game behind it. He could charm the pants off a room full of skeptics, make them see the story he wanted them to see, and by the time they realized what he’d done, the verdict was already sealed. It wasn’t just skill, it was an art form, and Jeonghan painted masterpieces every time he stepped into the courtroom.

Pairing him with Dino was like setting a match to gasoline. Dino’s reckless energy, combined with Jeonghan’s calculated cunning, created a dynamic so volatile it was a miracle the courthouse hadn’t burned down yet with their play. And of course they got results—high-profile convictions, airtight arguments but working anywhere near them felt like trying to wrangle wild animals while they smugly watched you struggle. Jeonghan was a brilliant menace.

Opposing counsel hated going up against you, Dino, and Jeonghan—a nightmare trio they couldn't outrun. And your firm adored the chaos you three brought to court because, no matter how unconventional the methods, you always delivered wins. You were the dream team they loved, and everyone else feared.

Of course, Dino was already making waves and teaming up with Jeonghan. But now it was only a matter of time before he turned this courtroom into his personal wrestling ring, but the last person he wanted to tangle with? You.

The doors to the courtroom slammed open with a force that could’ve been felt from a mile away. Dino walked in and right beside him was Jeonghan. You could already hear the sound of your blood pressure rising just by the sight of him. He had that look in his eyes, the one that meant he was about to do something ridiculous, something reckless, something that would make you regret ever agreeing to work with him in the first place.

"Morning, sunshine!" he called out as he passed by your table. “Hope you’re ready for this shitshow. You sure you don't want to be the one to put this case to bed?”

You shot him a look that could’ve frozen hell over, narrowing your eyes. "You're not gonna win this case, Dino. Not if charm’s the only thing you’re bringing to the table. Leave it to Jeonghan"

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Jeonghan chimed, “I’m just here to look good and clean up your messes later.”

“Careful," he smirked, leaning forward on the back of your chair, his breath hot against your ear. "I might actually win this case with my charm alone. He trusts me."

Jeonghan snorted. “I trust you to do one thing, Dino. Create chaos. Which is great for me, really. Makes me look even better when I swoop in and save the day.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you gritted your teeth. “Maybe if charm was evidence, you’d be a star witness. And Jeonghan, let’s not pretend you’re not just here for the applause."

Though the snide remark hung between you and Dino like smoke, thick and suffocating as he flashed that cocky grin of his, god, it was maddening how much you wanted to punch it off his face. But there was no time for that. You were in a courtroom, surrounded by a crowd of people who didn’t give two shits about your personal grudges. They were just waiting for the show to begin. And right now, the show was all about Dino and his charming ass.

The judge entered, and the room fell into a hush as the proceedings began adjusted to the presence of authority. But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering, especially at your table. Jeonghan handled the case with the precision of a surgeon. Every argument he made was razor-sharp, every point calculated to perfection. Watching him in action was like witnessing a masterclass in courtroom strategy. You felt a swell of pride, not that you’d ever admit it out loud, of course. Jeonghan didn’t need the ego boost. Then there was Dino. While Jeonghan worked the courtroom with elegance and finesse, Dino seemed hellbent on bulldozing his way through the defense with pure, unfiltered madness. Subtlety? Restraint? Professional decorum? Not Dino’s style. Instead, he was practically throwing barbed comments that bordered on outright insults. The poor defense counsel looked like they were ready to crawl under the table. And the judge was not having it. Dino had already earned himself two warnings within the first twenty minutes, and judging by the way the gavel slammed down after his latest stunt, he was this close to being thrown out. But did that stop him? Of course not. This was Dino we’re talking about—a man who seemed to thrive on walking the razor-thin line between brilliance and complete courtroom anarchy.

You sat back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. Jeonghan remained the picture of calm, seamlessly pivoting between making his case and finely cleaning up Dino’s messes, all while maintaining that smug composure. It was clear why you trusted Jeonghan to handle things when you weren’t in the mood or the mental space to deal with the circus. Unlike Dino, Jeonghan knew how to work a courtroom without turning it into a WWE match.

-

The courtroom cafeteria was unusually crowded today. You sat at the corner table, papers spread out in front of you, pretending to focus on work but really just avoiding small talk. The last thing you needed was to deal with someone interrupting your already thin patience.

That was, until Jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, his signature gremlin smile firmly in place. He looked too smug for someone who just wrapped up a grueling morning session in the courtroom. “What?” you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your tone.

“Relax, I’m here to bask in my own brilliance,” he replied, helping himself to the coffee you had been saving for yourself. You watched as he sipped it like he’d earned it, the audacity rolling off him in waves. The worst part was that he had earned it. Jeonghan was the only person in the firm who could win a case and steal your coffee in the same breath, and somehow, you wouldn’t want to slap him for it. Well, not entirely.

Just as you were about to retort, Seungcheol appeared, dropping a folder on the table with a thud. He looked like someone who had been wrangling a circus all day, because that's exactly what working with Dino felt like. “You’re welcome,” he said without preamble, flopping into the seat beside you. “I just spent the last hour keeping Dino from getting held in contempt.”

You snorted, finally peeling your eyes away from your notes. “That’s a full-time job.”

“He’s a trouble,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand down his face. “And somehow, I’m the one who gets roped into damage control every time.”

Jeonghan leaned back, clearly amused. “Oh, please, as if you don't bully him enough.”

Before Seungcheol could argue, Dino appeared for the briefest moment, swaggering past your table. He shot you a grin that was one part arrogance, two parts trouble, and called out, “Don’t miss me too much!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t even bother responding. Seungcheol groaned. “See? That’s what I’m dealing with.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Anyway, how’s your prep going? Or are you too busy glaring at Dino to focus?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into a folder. “Prep’s fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need to cause a spectacle to win.”

Jeonghan just grinned, and Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, chuckled. The dynamic was exhausting but damn, did it work.

The case in front of you was messy, layered with too many moving parts. Fraud, bribery, and a corporate paper trail so convoluted it felt like the legal equivalent of untangling Christmas lights. But somehow, between you, Jeonghan, and, yes, even Dino, things were starting to click. Slowly. Painfully

Jeonghan had already pointed out the glaring inconsistency in the timelines. The CEO of the accused company had claimed to be in Beijing during a key transaction, but Jeonghan’s eye caught a discrepancy in a hotel invoice. The CEO had, in fact, checked out two days earlier than he’d testified, meaning he was likely back in the city, orchestrating the whole thing. It was the kind of detail that could unravel a defense if played correctly. You had pieced together a pattern in the financial documents. The bribes weren’t direct transfers, too obvious for someone this slick. But they were funneled through fake consulting fees paid to shell companies. Shell companies you’d traced back to one of the CEO’s close associates. And Dino, well, credit where it’s due, the guy was a bloodhound when it came to witnesses. He’d managed to corner a junior executive who had been ready to deny everything until Dino dropped a few too-specific details about her involvement. Turns out, she had been the one handling the encrypted emails. Dino had gotten her to crack, and now she was teetering on the edge of flipping. Honestly, his ability to charm, intimidate, and outmaneuver people in the same breath was too impressive.

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples as he reviewed the stack of papers in front of him. Even he had to admit it was a strong case, and Seungcheol rarely handed out compliments. “This might actually work,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You glanced at Jeonghan, who was already scribbling something onto a legal pad, his mind a thousand steps ahead as always. Across the room, Dino was on the phone, probably sweet-talking the junior exec into handing over more details.

Four

The precinct always smelled like stale coffee and paperwork—if paperwork had a smell, that is. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. Or, at least, the kind of home where you constantly wanted to throw someone through a window. And today that someone was Dino, like he wasn’t a full-grown ass man but a goddamn trouble magnet with a badge.

The day had already been a shitshow. Another interview, another suspect who thought they could outsmart the system or worse, you. And it didn’t help that Dino, of all people, had been in the room, throwing in his little side comments like he was auditioning for a buddy cop movie. By the time you stormed out of the interrogation room, you were one bad comment away from losing your badge and your mind.

You headed straight for the coffee machine, the ancient beast that churned out something vaguely resembling caffeine. The cups were paper-thin, the sugar was always clumped, and the cream, if you could call it that, came in those little pods that looked like they expired sometime in the 90s. But it was coffee, and you needed it.

God, you needed it.

Just as you finished pouring your first cup and reached for a sugar packet, he appeared. You didn’t even have to look. You felt him like a storm cloud rolling in, all smug energy and shitty cologne.

“Rough day?” Dino’s voice was way too cheery for someone who had spent the last two hours watching you get stonewalled by a suspect.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Fuck off, Lee.”

Dino laughed, that low, grating chuckle that made you want to slam the coffee pot over his head. “That’s no way to talk to a teammate.”

You turned to glare at him, your hands still gripping the coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping you from committing a crime. “Teammate? You sat there and let me handle the entire interview while you played with your pen like a goddamn child.”

“I was observing,” he said, slanting against the counter. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and yet he still managed to look very confident. “You had it under control, right?”

“I had nothing under control, thanks to you, Detective.” you snapped. “Next time, maybe try contributing instead of sitting there like a pretty little statue.”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Dino smirked, and you wanted to throw your coffee at him.

Before you could fire back, Sergeant Mingyu walked in, a towering figure with an easygoing grin. He took one look at the two of you and burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, you two are at it again?” Mingyu said, grabbing his own cup and shaking his head. “It’s like we're watching a rom-com, except way more violent.”

“There’s no ‘rom’ here,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes at Dino. “Just an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for dangerous women.”

“Dangerous? The only thing dangerous here is you trying to do your job,” you about to fist up.

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. “God, Dino, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But seriously, she’s gonna bite your head off one day.”

Dino shrugged, unbothered. “Eh, I can handle it.”

“You think you can handle it,” you muttered, turning back to the coffee machine to pour another cup.

Mingyu leaned closer, still grinning. “You know, watching you two is the best part of my day. You’re like fire and gasoline.”

“Yeah, well, one of us is about to get burned,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Dino.

That stupid smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee and praying it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

Mingyu’s voice broke. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually like each other.”

You glared at him. “Drink your coffee, Sergeant, before I throw it at you.”

He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. And you just finished your coffee, trying to shake off the heat rising in your cheeks. It’s just caffeine, you told yourself. Definitely just the caffeine.

-

It was late. Too late. Everyone else had cleared out hours ago, leaving you with a mountain of work and the ghost of Detective Lee Chan's incompetence haunting your every move. You stared at the stack of reports in front of you, each one messier than the last. Half of them didn't even make sense. Who wrote "suspect maybe had a knife, or maybe it was a gun, unclear" in an official report? Oh, right-fucking Dino. If he spent half as much time actually doing his job as he did annoying the shit out of you, you might actually get some sleep tonight.

But no. Here you were. Alone. Stuck cleaning up others' mess like always.

The door opened, and you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. That air had a very distinct energy, and it was currently barreling toward you at full force.

"What the fuck, Prosecutor?" Dino's voice cut through the silence, relentless. "Why the hell haven't you signed off on the reports?"

You didn't bother looking up. "Maybe because they're a fucking disaster, Detective."

He stalked over to your desk, his presence looming, anger radiating off him in waves. You could feel it, hot and suffocating, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"They're fine,” he snapped, planting his hands on the edge of your desk and leaning in. His scent hit you, the lingering smoke of too much coffee. "You're the one holding up the case.”

You finally looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "Fine? Fine? Half of these reports read like they were written by a drunk toddler. Did you even try?"

Dino's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually explode. "You know what, Y/N? Fuck you. I've been busting my ass on this case while you sit here with your red pen, nitpicking every goddamn detail like it's a fucking college essay."

"Fuck me?" You shot out of your chair, slamming your hands on the desk as you leaned forward to meet him halfway. "Fuck you, Dino. Maybe if you spent less time playing the charming jackass and more time actually doing your job, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth curling that only fueled your rage. "You love cleaning up my messes, admit it. Gives you something to bitch about."

"Oh, I hate you so much," you hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you," he shot back, his words a challenge, his tone daring you to push further.

You were too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood boiling, and suddenly—

You kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even conscious. One second, you were glaring at him, ready to rip him apart in chicken shreds, and the next, your lips were on his, hard and unforgiving. He froze for half a second before kissing you back just as fiercely, his hands flying up to grip your waist as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Dino muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless but laced with that same infuriating cockiness.

"Shut up," you snapped, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than deal with you, but here we are."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You'd deserve the cactus."

"Yeah? Well, I'll shove that cactus down your throat if you keep talking," he shot back as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

"Try it," you countered. "And I'll bury you six feet under."

"God, you're insufferable," he growled, but his lips were back on yours before you could respond, hot and demanding, his fingers digging into your sides.

The insults didn't stop. Neither did the kissing. It was a mess, angry, chaotic, and so satisfying. Every argument, every moment of pent-up frustration, every goddamn thing you hated about him poured into each kiss, each bite, each touch. And for once, Dino wasn't the only disaster in the room. But as your back hit the desk and his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind.

You barely registered the edge of the desk digging into your lower back as Dino's lips worked against yours, rough and demanding. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your spine, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even the fraction of space between you. And you were just as bad. Your fingers clawed at his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His groan vibrated against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled his hair harder this time, relishing in the pained sound he made. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

You didn't even hesitate. "Right back at you, Detective."

His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too cocky, but you didn't have time to bite back because his mouth was on your neck now, teeth grazing your skin in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You hated him. You really did. But god, he was good at this. Too good.

"You're killing me," he moaned against your neck, his voice filled with desire. "The fuck kind of witchcraft are you doing right now, huh?" His lips moved up to your jawline, teeth nipping slightly.

"Is this what you do with all your coworkers?"

Dino pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Only the ones who drive me fucking insane."

You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to keep up the attitude when his hands slid under your blouse, his palms aggressive and warm against your skin. He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less intense. Like he was savoring the moment or maybe just savoring your complete and utter loss of control. Bastard.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” you muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to catch your breath.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dino said, his voice low and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles against your clothed nipple. "The feeling's mutual."

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever snarky comment you had died on your lips as he leaned in again, his hands tightening on your waist. There was something about the way he kissed you—messy, desperate, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or devour you whole.

The desk creaked beneath you as he pressed closer, his hips slotting between your legs like he belonged there. You could feel his hard cock through his pant, could hear the hitch in his breath when you tugged at his tie to pull him even closer and pressed yet another kiss. He moaned into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened it fervently. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his hardness against you. The desk shifted under the force of his movement, scattered papers fluttering to the floor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, Dino's hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. He then again stepped between your spread thighs, intentionally pressing his clothed erection firmly against your core. He unbuttoned your shirt one-handed, pushing the material off your shoulders. His mouth dropped to capture one peaked nipple while his hands unzipped your pants slowly, pushing them down your hips along with your lace panties. He spread your thighs wider, settling between them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," you said, your voice shaky but defiant as you pull him into another kiss.

Dino smirked, his lips swollen and pink, his eyes dark that made your stomach squirm. "Probably," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your clit, "But right now? I don't give a fuck."

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. But then his lips were on yours again, and whatever rational thought you'd been holding onto was gone, swept away in the chaos that was Lee Chan.

And honestly? You didn't give a fuck either.

Five

The morning after was a mess. Not because the office was chaotic, although it was but because every time you looked up, Dino was there. And every time you looked at him, you remembered.

His hands on your waist. His lips on your neck. The way he smirked at you, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you insane.

You hated him. You really did. Except, you didn’t.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. He waltzed into the precinct, throwing out cocky smirks and one-liners like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been pressed against your desk, fucking, the night before, completely at his mercy. Bastard.

“Morning, Prosecutor,” he said, leaning against the edge of your desk in the common shared office with your colleagues, with that infuriating grin. His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. You refused to notice how good he looked. Absolutely refused.

“Detective,” you replied not even looking up from your papers, your tone colder than the coffee you hadn’t had time to drink.

“Sleep well?”

Your pen snapped in half.

Seungkwan, strolled by at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Am I interrupting... something?” he asked, his tone dripping with implication.

“No,” you said quickly.

“Yes,” Dino said at the same time.

Seungkwan looked between the two of you like he was watching the world's most entertaining soap opera. “Right,” he said slowly. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Dino, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just saying good morning. Is that a crime now?”

“Don’t push me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he countered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll kiss me again?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you saw it—the implication behind his smirk. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cocky grin, and you wanted to murder him all over again.

“Go to hell,” you muttered, shoving past him.

“See you there, sweetheart,” he called after you.

The tension only got worse as the day went on. Every time you crossed paths, it was like a live wire sparking between you. He’d brush past you in the hallway, his hand grazing your arm just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Or he’d lean over your shoulder to look at a file, his breath warm against your neck, and you’d have to fight the urge to deck him or kiss him.

By the time the case finally wrapped up that evening after three months of struggling, you were ready to explode. The courtroom had been a war zone, with the two of you throwing out arguments like grenades to the defense. But it worked. The case was a win, and you should’ve been celebrating.

Instead, you found yourself alone in your office, staring at the note on your desk.

File this under: cases where I was right (and you were hot).

You crumpled the paper in your hand, your jaw clenching, but a smile still crept through your cusses. Of course, he’d leave something like this. It was so... Dino. Cocky, smart, provoking, and always managing to get under your skin. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you stormed out of your office, the crumpled note still in your hand. You found him sitting in his office, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously?” you snapped, holding up the note.

He looked up, his grin immediate. “What? I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You think this is cute?”

“Admit it,” he said, now standing up and stepping closer. “You smiled when you read it.”

“I did not,” you lied, your pulse racing as he closed the distance between you.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice teasing but his eyes deadly serious.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. All you knew you were pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you might pull away, and maybe you would’ve if you weren’t so darn tired of fighting this. Fighting him.

“Still hate me?” he asked against your lips, his voice breathless.

“So much,” you managed to say, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he said, kissing you again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the dynamic.”

And just like that, the war raged on.

The end.

[railingsofsorrow]

I was thinking about jj being at home while reader is out partying. and then she calls him, really really drunk so he's concerned and goes pick her up.

love your writing! ❤️

midnight swim

[jj maybank x reader]

summary: the one where you drink too much and decide to have a midnight swim but your boyfriend stops you.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

w.c: 1.1K

warnings/content: alcohol consumption; language; stupid drunk decisions; argument with parents (mentioned); suggestive content (you blink you miss it).

[requested]

A/N: HELLOO this was fun to write hope you like it :)

navi

masterpost

outer banks masterlist

request me something

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Wanna go home.” You mumbled into the phone, walking outside of the loud house to have a moment of peace. Maybe your social battery is over. You didn't know what exactly cut your mood off from the party but you wanted to put on your pajamas and lay in your boyfriends' chest for the whole (rest) of the night.

“Mhm.”

“Dude, did you just kill me?!”

Pope's laughs echoed through the line, followed by JJ's trying to stifle a chuckle but he was very unsuccessful, earning a punch on his arm provided by his best friend.

“Baby? Sorry. The guys were being loud and— You still there?”

You hummed, eyes slightly unfocused staring at the enormous pool of whoever Kook's house you were. You were barely remembering your own name to be honest. You don't like drinking without your friends but you made the terrible choice to drown in booze to forget about the fight with your parents and here you are. Wallowing in self pity. And alcohol. A lot of it, it seemed.

“Baby?”

Rubbing your eyes with a sigh, you replied with a soft hi and there's some shuffling in the background.

“How's the party? Eat any fancy finger food yet? Or is it just champagne?”

“Fuck off.” You couldn't help your chuckle. Your feet somehow carry you out of the porch and into the pool area. Everything felt hot.

You can hear your boyfriends' deep chuckle before he teased you some more, attempting to rile you up. JJ was aware that when you called him at a party was either because you wanted to leave or you just got tired of being socially active and the excuse of being on the phone was good to keep people away temporarily. He wanted to know which was the option now.

“So?”

“'s boring. I wanna— Ouch.” Your laugh was loud but you didn't had a filter with the alcohol in your system so you didn't think much of it or that it wasn't so funny to stumble and fall flat on your ass.

“What?” JJ seemed to notice your lack of sobriety through your continuous giggles. “Where are you right now?” He prompted, eyeing the van's keys on the bowl beside him but not moving to grasp it quite yet. You were a big girl, you could handle yourself; you told him that once when you called him drunk and he showed up to take you home because he was worried. You were pissed. He'd never do it again unless he felt the need to. He didn't want to be possessive in any way.

“Wish I was with you.” He couldn't see your pout but he knew it was there. “Listen... We should go for a midnight swim—is it midnight yet?” You laughed, crawling towards the edge of the pool. The water looked so clean and it was so hot, you just wanted a quick swim.

“It's 1am, baby.”

“Perfect.”

The blond's lips quirked up slightly. “You sure you good? Not doing anything stupid, right?”

“You said it yourself stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” You retorted, taking off your sandals. “Ah, shit. I didn't brought a bikini.”

“Why would you need a bikini?” JJ yawned, resting back comfortably against John B's beaten-up couch. “Was it a pool party? I can't remember you telling me—”

“Not a pool party but they have a pool.” You clarify, blinking down at your outfit. “Baby, I gotta get off my dress, I don't wanna make it wet.”

The way he sat up so quickly that Pope, who was thrown on the loveseat gave him a look of confusion.

“Why do you wanna— Where are you?”

You sighed impatiently. “Told you we should have a midnight swim! I'm by the pool—”

“Okay, yeah, no.” JJ grabbed the car keys and practically sprint out the door. So much for not doing anything stupid. “Baby, can you do me a favour?”

Your face scrunched up and you shook your head. “No. 'm gonna wait for you in the pool—”

“No, you're not. You're gonna get your pretty little feet away from whatever pool you're nearby and you're gonna wait for me, got it?”

“But the midnight swim...” you slurred out, throwing your head back with a groan. “C'mon, stars ar' out and—”

“We'll have a swim when I get there but only if you wait for me, 'kay?” JJ tried a different tactic, a bit desperate for you to get the hell away from the pool while being drunk. “Where are you at again?” He knew some of your friends but he didn't know exactly whose house you were at.

“Stacy's.” You replied, dumping your feet in the pool and dangling them from one side to the other. You were sitting at the edge, the party inside echoing all of the excitement from strangers and the few (three?) people you barely knew.

The Twinkie was on before JJ even shut the door.

“Baby?”

He said carefully, praying you hadn't jumped in the pool in the meanwhile. You let out a low hum in response.

“Your dress' still on, right, princess.”

“Why? You wanna take it off?” She chuckled, leaning back to rest against her elbows. “Still on. 'm waiting f'you like you asked.”

“Good girl.” He turned on the street and now it was only ten minutes away by car. He'd make it in five. “Hey. Are you dizzy or feeling lightheaded? Are you sitting down?”

“Okay, doctor Maybank. You're doing a full checkup or something—Hey!” You exclaimed in indignation when a splash went off and you got soaked. Someone had jumped on the pool. A group of girls that were shrieking like little kids. You stumbled away from the pool, your eyes a little more focused now as you walked towards the backdoor, pushing between people to reach the exit and leave that fucking party. God why did you even came?

“Babe, you good? I'm here.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, watching the beat up van park in front of Stacy's house. “I see you.”

JJ stepped out of the vehicle to greet you. You met him halfway, a pout on yours lips when he asked why on earth were you wet. “Did you get into the pool—”

“No! Some stupid girls jumped in it and I was sitting close!” You whined and JJ's concern turned into amusement really quickly. “Stupid, fucking—”

“Alright, alright.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer, running a hand across your back and pressing his lips against your forehead. Your sigh was muffled when you buried your face in his shirt. “Let's get you in some nice comfy and dry clothes, yeah? You good with that?”

“You promised a swim.”

He kissed your pout away until it became a smile you were trying to break into a frown but was unable to.

“Sobriety first then we'll swim and surf and do whatever you want, baby.”

Just definitely not tonight.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[stupid-autistic-rat]

Answering these cuz' i' m bored :'] ( I MISS MY WIFEEE RJFMNED )

Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

Therianthropy ! 🐾

What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

I am a Mexican wolf , at least I think that' s my breed , not too sure

Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

I do , I just realised how they fly right by my head tho T-T my most common one would prolly be mental shifts. I haven' t had many cameo shifts , only a few times where I felt more fox like or different breeds of my kind

How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

Uhhh i' m not too aware of that tbh , I just kinda do what I do. Just a wolf in the world. Ig it kinda affects me when I make decisions or state my opinion which is usually noticeably different from human opinions or decisions.

What do you think of the community?

Everyone is really nice and awesome !! 💪 working on a server rn so we can all interact :P

What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

Not too sure , just kinda chilling in my den makes me feel good. Idk how to explain how I feel too much. Maybe gear would make me feel more euphoric but I don' t need too much to prove to myself who I am. COMFORTABILITY tho I label differently. Meeting others like me makes me more comfortable since i' m around humans 24/7 ( idm but sometimes I just need to be around my kind ) . I also don' t like being forced to do a lot of human things or eat like them so meat and berries keep me more comfortable , but my parents buy a lot of shitty meat :/

Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

Not really tbh , I just kinda am chilling as a wolf stuck in some human body , I don' t give much thought about it , I' m just me

What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

Hmmm .. ig just don' t let others get in your head , people who don' t understand what you experience often shit on it cuz' they don' t have the knowledge to understand it. I' ve noticed that in people. You ARE who you are , and you feel things for a REASON. Good luck my goat

Do you have/want to have gears?

I actually would like gears , these masks look super awesome. I' m gonna collect materials to make one. I just need to draw out what I want. I would also like a tail just for comfortability and claws to help me better. Human nails SUCK.

Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

Not too sure. Pretty much was born like this ig , nothing really influenced it. Unless you mean signs or stuff from childhood. I was always super interested in my kind and interacting with related kind ( like dogs ) , and felt perfectly comfortable just existing as one of my kind , which other kids would just believe I was playing "" pretend "" , which I didn' t understand much about cuz' i' m autistic. Never changed , even as I continued to get older.

Uhhh ty for reading >:P

These were fun to answer , I LOVE QUESTIONS !!

If you are an alter/nonhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[kissesandarsenic]

What if I blackmailed you into being my obedient little pet after I catch you jerking off in your exes panties like a depraved whore?

You'd be terrified, trying to grab at my phone. Threatening me. But it's hard to be intimidating when you're flushed red and dripping precum in a pair of tiny pink panties. Voice cracking and trembling all over. You're so adorable ❤️

The video is on the cloud by this point. I'm not giving it up. You have no choice but to do what I say unless you want me sharing it with everyone we know.

Your ex included.

So I'll have my fun with you. Have you wear a pretty thong of your own under your work clothes. Make you condition yourself by only letting you get off to the porn I like. You'll worship my pussy, hump my leg like a dog in heat, take all sorts of incriminating photos to appease me. You're gonna make such an excellent porn star, baby.

And then one day... I'll be done with you.

I'll let you watch as I delete the evidence. Let you check to make sure it really is gone. I'll give you a little peck on the cheek and you'll never have to worry about me again.

And you feel... relief, right? Because that's what you wanted. For all the scary threats to go away. For me to leave you alone. You justed wanted to go back to your regular normal life and forget about this nightmare.

But you find yourself touching yourself every night to memories of me. The humiliating things I made you do. Nothing feels as good as my cooed praise and callous touch. You miss me like a fucking limb.

I'd hardly be surprised to find you at my door the next morning, prostrate on the ground in a pair of panties I'd left behind, begging to be my fuck toy again.

No one understands you like I do, darling.

Now lets see what other depraved things I can make you do for my amusement.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Thirty Nine

Monday:

Sitting in one of the back booths of the café, I stretched out my legs beneath the table, enjoying the small reprieve my break offered. The soft hum of conversations blended with the gentle whir of the coffee machines, creating a familiar background noise that I had grown used to over time. My caramel frappuccino sat in front of me, half-melted but still sweet and comforting as I absentmindedly swirled my straw through the icy liquid.

My eyes flicked over my phone screen, scrolling through the latest news without much thought—until something caught my attention, making me pause.

"Jungkook Jeon: Three Consecutive F1 Races Missed—Is His Dedication to the Sport in Question?"

I frowned slightly, my finger hesitating before tapping on the article. As my eyes skimmed through the text, the weight of the words slowly settled over me. The media had begun speculating about his absence, questioning whether he still had a future in Formula 1. Some reporters suggested that his sponsors were getting restless, while others debated if his team was intentionally keeping information under wraps. Regardless of the reasoning, one thing was clear—he had been noticeably absent from the last three races, and people were starting to wonder why.

I stared at my phone, my mind struggling to make sense of the information. Three races?

That wasn’t a coincidence. Jungkook never missed races, not unless there was a damn good reason. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder… did he really skip all of those because of me?

But almost as soon as the thought entered my mind, I shook it away. No. That’s not the Jungkook I know. He wouldn’t jeopardize his career over something like this. He probably has his own reasons.

I forced myself to push the idea aside, exhaling softly before switching to my messages. I replied to a text from my mom, letting her know I was doing fine, and then sent a quick response to Kayla, who had been spamming me with updates about some drama she had overheard at work.

So focused on my phone, I barely registered the subtle shift in the air around me, nor did I notice the presence of someone sliding into the booth directly across from me. It wasn’t until I heard a quiet throat-clearing that I finally looked up—only for my breath to momentarily hitch in surprise.

Jungkook.

But not the Jungkook I was used to.

The man sitting across from me looked… different. Gone was the usual all-black designer attire, the leather jackets and fitted shirts that screamed wealth and confidence. Instead, he was dressed in a simple beige hoodie, slightly oversized, paired with casual blue jeans. But the real shock was his hair. Normally, it was styled back with gel, sleek and polished, exposing the sharp angles of his face and the undercut beneath. But now, it was down, soft waves framing his features, giving him an almost boyish look. The change was subtle, yet completely disorienting.

For a long moment, I just stared at him, my mind struggling to reconcile this version of him with the one I had grown accustomed to. He looked… weirdly innocent.

Jungkook gave me a hesitant smile before letting out a small, shy "Hey."

I blinked, still processing the sight of him sitting here, looking nothing like the arrogant, untouchable racer I had come to resent.

When I didn’t immediately respond, he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a soft chuckle. "It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing me like this?"

I tilted my head slightly, crossing my arms as I studied him. "Good to know you’re self-aware."

That made him laugh—a real laugh, not the usual amused scoff or smug chuckle he often used. It was warm, genuine, and something about it sent a strange sensation through my chest.

"I thought I’d step out of the ‘F1 racer Jungkook’ persona and back into just… me for a bit," he admitted, his fingers toying with the rings on his hands.

"Uh-huh," I said, unimpressed. "Now, what do you want?"

At my bluntness, he hesitated for a brief second before inhaling deeply, clearly gathering his thoughts. He shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers continuing to fidget with the silver bands on his hand—a nervous habit I had never seen from him before.

"Damian told me you’d give me a chance to make it up to you," he said finally, his voice steady despite the uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "So… I’m going to try my best. And, um…" He exhaled, finally meeting my gaze. "Thank you for hearing me out."

My eyebrows lifted slightly. Jungkook just said thank you?

I leaned back against the booth, regarding him carefully. "You have one week," I reminded him. "I’m not giving you any more than that, so make it count."

A small, determined smile tugged at his lips. "I will. I swear."

I sighed, glancing down at my phone to check the time. "Do you want anything to drink?"

Jungkook shook his head. "Actually, there’s somewhere I wanted to take you—if you’re up for it."

Before I could even consider my answer, a voice chimed in from behind me.

"She’s free. We got her shift covered."

I turned in my seat just in time to see Cyrus, Leah, and Serena standing a few feet away, their expressions smug and knowing.

"What—guys, no," I protested immediately, shaking my head. "I have work, I—"

"AJ," Leah cut in, lowering her voice to a whisper as she leaned in slightly, "do not leave the hot F1 racer waiting."

"Seriously," Serena added, smirking. "Go before we change our minds."

Before I could argue, all three of them stepped forward and, without warning, pushed me out of the booth—directly into Jungkook. I let out a startled oof as I stumbled into him, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady myself. Jungkook reacted quickly, his hands coming up to grip my waist, holding me firmly in place. 

For a brief moment, neither of us moved.

I was suddenly, painfully aware of how close we were. The warmth of his hands through the fabric of my shirt, the steady rise and fall of his chest just inches from mine, the way his dark eyes flickered with something unreadable as he looked down at me. Behind me, my so-called friends were watching with delighted grins, waving me off like I was being shipped off to a rom-com moment I did not sign up for. Realizing Jungkook was still holding onto me, I cleared my throat and quickly stepped back, putting space between us.

"Lead the way," I mumbled, my voice coming out slightly more flustered than I would have liked.

Jungkook’s lips twitched slightly, as if he was fighting back a smirk, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned, leading the way toward the exit.

The crisp evening air brushed against my skin as Jungkook led the way through the parking lot, his hands stuffed into the front pocket of his beige hoodie. His pace was unhurried, casual, like he had all the time in the world, while I trailed slightly behind, my mind still trying to process how exactly I ended up here. I hadn’t planned on spending time with Jungkook—certainly not outside of work—and yet, here I was, following him without protest.

Parked effortlessly under the streetlights was a sleek, black Bugatti Chiron, its polished exterior gleaming under the glow. Even though I knew he had money, I still couldn’t help but blink at the sheer extravagance of it. This car wasn’t just expensive—it was a statement, a declaration of status and power. Of course, he’d drive something like this.

Without a word, Jungkook stepped ahead and pulled open the passenger-side door, holding it open for me. I hesitated for a brief moment before finally sliding into the seat, sinking into the plush leather interior. The inside of the car was pristine, the faint scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air, mixing with the subtle scent of new leather.

I barely had a second to settle before Jungkook leaned in slightly, reaching across me to adjust the seatbelt where it rested against my shoulder. His hand brushed against my arm—just for a second—but it was enough to send an involuntary shiver through me.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my heart stuttered. "Yeah."

He studied me for a second longer, as if making sure I wasn’t lying, before stepping back and shutting the door. A moment later, he slid into the driver’s seat, and with a press of a button, the engine roared to life, filling the air with a deep, thunderous growl. I glanced at him as he shifted gears, his fingers effortlessly gripping the wheel, his expression unreadable. Even dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, there was still something so composed about him—so effortlessly put together.

The car eased onto the road, gliding smoothly through the city streets. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the soft melody playing from the speakers—low, slow, and melodic, completely different from the aggressive bass-heavy music I’d expected him to play.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt charged, like there were a hundred unspoken words sitting between us, waiting for one of us to break.

I shifted slightly in my seat, letting my gaze flicker down to his hands as they moved over the steering wheel—steady, controlled, and veined in a way that was hard to ignore. The silver rings on his fingers caught the light every time he shifted gears, the sight oddly mesmerizing.

I quickly looked away, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past us.

The drive stretched on in silence, the soft hum of music playing in the background as the city lights faded behind us. I watched as the buildings thinned out, replaced by open roads and scattered streetlights. The air grew cooler, the scent of saltwater slowly creeping into the car, mixing with Jungkook’s cologne.

After a few more minutes, he finally pulled the car to a smooth stop. I frowned, glancing out the window. My eyes widened slightly as I took in the view before me—a long stretch of sand, the waves rolling gently under the moonlight.

A beach. I turned to him, my brows furrowed in confusion. "You brought me to a beach?"

Jungkook nodded, his hands resting on the steering wheel as he glanced at me. "Yeah, uh… I thought the best way to go about this was by explaining a bit about me and my life before—well, everything."

I studied him for a moment, my curiosity piqued. "Okay… but is this place abandoned or something? How is it just us here?"

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s not abandoned…I rented it out for a bit."

I blinked.

"You what?"

Jungkook ignored my outburst, smoothly unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car like he hadn’t just casually admitted to renting out an entire beach. I let out a sharp exhale, kissing my teeth in disbelief before hurriedly following.

The second I stepped out, the cool ocean breeze kissed my skin, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the air. The whole place felt… untouched. Peaceful. And it really was just us—the parking lot was empty, the usual sounds of laughter and chatter that came with public beaches were nowhere to be heard.

I trailed after him as he started walking down the wooden path leading toward the sand, my arms crossed over my chest. "Did you really have to rent out an entire beach?" I asked, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

Jungkook glanced over at me, his expression unusually serious. "Yeah. You’ll see why in a bit."

Something in his tone made me pause. He wasn’t joking, wasn’t just being dramatic or showing off. Whatever he was about to tell me—whatever this was—it actually meant something to him. I pressed my lips together before nodding, my heart beating just a little faster than before as I contemplated what it could be.

When we finally reached the sand, Jungkook hesitated for a second before bending down, slipping off his sneakers and socks. Without a word, he stepped forward, letting the tide lap at his feet. He stared out at the ocean, hands still in his pockets, shoulders tense.

I watched him for a moment before sighing and doing the same, shoving off my shoes and stepping forward. The water was cold against my skin, but refreshing. "So," I started, wrapping my arms around myself, "are you going to explain why we’re here, or are we just going to stare at the waves all night?"

Jungkook let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You’re impatient."

I shrugged. "I just don’t like being kept in the dark."

He was silent for a second before exhaling, tilting his head up to the sky. "I used to come here a lot when I was younger," he finally admitted. "Before racing, before the cameras, before everything got so… complicated. This place was kind of my escape."

I frowned slightly, turning to fully face him. "Wait— you used to live here and what do you mean escape, escape from what?"

Jungkook hesitated, his jaw tightening before he finally met my gaze. "Yeah I only moved to Canada after I was recruited as a racer, and as for what I was escaping from, I was escaping from my dad. The pressure. And everything people expected me to be."

I stared at him, my lips parting slightly. Jungkook never talked about his family—at least not in any way that gave actual insight into his life. He was always the mystery, the untouchable golden boy with a million-dollar smile and an even more expensive lifestyle. But now, standing here under the moonlight, barefoot in the sand, he looked… human.

I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. "I never really thought about what it must’ve been like for you growing up," I admitted. "People only ever see the fame and success. They don’t think about what comes before all of that."

Jungkook let out a dry laugh, kicking at the sand with his toes. "Yeah. They see the cars, the trophies, the interviews. No one ever asks about what it took to get there." His voice was quieter now, almost lost to the sound of the waves. "My dad—he wasn’t the kind of guy to accept failure. If I wasn’t winning, I wasn’t enough. And for a long time, I let that define me."

I felt something twist in my chest at his words. I knew what it was like to feel like you were never enough, to have someone else’s expectations weigh on you so heavily that it felt impossible to breathe. But I never thought Jungkook—the Jungkook—could feel that way too.

I took a deep breath. "And now? Do you still feel like that?"

Jungkook was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke. "I don’t know." He turned to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. "Maybe that’s why I’m here."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated again, and for the first time, I saw something in his expression that I didn’t expect—fear. "I missed those races for a reason Aylah," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And it wasn’t just because of you."

I blinked. "Then why?"

Jungkook ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling sharply. "Because for the first time in my life, I don’t know if I want to race anymore."

His words hit me like a truck. I stared at him, my brain struggling to process what he just said. "You don’t—" I cut myself off, shaking my head in disbelief. "I thought you loved racing. It’s literally your life."

"Yeah," he said, voice laced with something unreadable. "Maybe that’s the problem."

I didn’t know what to say to that. The Jungkook I knew—the one the world knew—was built for this. He was fast, confident, unstoppable. The idea of him not wanting it anymore didn’t make sense. But looking at him now, the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression… maybe it did.

"Why are you telling me this?" I finally asked.

Jungkook let out a breath, his gaze locked onto mine. "Because I don’t think there’s anyone else who would understand."

I could feel the weight of Jungkook’s presence beside me, like he was carrying something heavy, something I couldn’t fully grasp but could feel in the way he held himself. His eyes were distant, looking out at the water, but I could tell he was caught in his thoughts—caught in memories.

"I know about how things were with your mum," he said quietly, his voice steady but heavy, like the words were coated in something hard to shake off. "How she never supported your dream and made you feel like it wasn’t possible."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "How do you…?" I began, but he cut me off with an unexpected tenderness.

"You used to talk about her in your sleep," he said softly. "I heard you sometimes. And I could feel how much it hurt."

I blinked, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. How could he possibly understand the depths of those whispered memories that I’d buried deep inside? I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the words.

His gaze shifted toward the water again, his eyes clouded with something I couldn’t read. "I know how much you wanted her approval," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the sea would swallow his words. "And I get it. I know what it’s like to have someone you love not believe in you."

My chest tightened, but I didn’t know if it was because of his words or because they made me feel understood in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "How do you—?"

He turned his head slightly, his eyes darkened by a deep, hidden pain. "My dad," he said, his words slow and heavy, as if each one took everything from him. "My dad never supported me. All he ever wanted was for me to follow his path and become the son he could brag about, the son that was actually worth something. But my mum, God she was…so different."

I could hear the reverence in his voice when he spoke of her. The raw love that was still there, even after all this time. "What do you mean, 'was'?" I asked quietly, my heart aching as I fought the knot in my throat.

His eyes seemed to shutter, but the pain was still there, raw and bleeding. "She died when I was twelve," he whispered, as if the admission itself was a burden. "She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t live with him, with the way he controlled everything. So she ended her life right here… on this beach." His voice cracked with emotion, and for the first time, I saw him as more than just the confident, arrogant racer. I saw him as a boy who had lost everything.

I was stunned, paralyzed by the weight of his words. "Jungkook…" I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to offer comfort for something so devastating. But he wasn’t finished.

He inhaled shakily, his shoulders trembling slightly as he fought back the tide of memories. "She drowned herself in the water here," he continued, voice thick with emotion. "And for years, I couldn’t come back. Every time I looked at this place, it felt like my past was strangling me, reminding me that no matter where I went, no matter what I did, I couldn’t outrun it."

I felt my heart crack at his words. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but I was frozen. My chest ached for him. The ocean felt cold beneath my feet as I realized how long he had carried that pain. Alone.

"But now… I think I’ve finally found the strength to come back here, to face it," he said, his voice softer now, but filled with determination. "I’m ready to take my life back and make my own choices without letting my past control me. To finally move on… without it feeling like I’m trapped in my own mind."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. I stood there, silent, trying to absorb the weight of everything he’d just shared. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to help him, but I knew one thing for sure—Jungkook wasn’t the person I had thought he was. He was more. So much more.

"I’m so sorry, Jungkook," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but I meant every word. "I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through."

He shook his head, his lips trembling into a faint smile. "Don’t be," he said, his voice raw but steady. He paused, turning to me with a look that held a vulnerability I had never seen in him before. "I want to learn how to live without letting everything that’s happened define me. I want to make the choices I want. Not just for me, but for you too. I want to be better for you."

His words hit me hard, a realization sweeping over me. He was trying, really trying to change. He wasn’t just asking for forgiveness—he was asking for a chance to rebuild himself. To start fresh. Not just for his sake, but for us.

"I…" My voice faltered as I swallowed, unsure of how to process everything.

Jungkook exhaled shakily, his jaw tightening as if he were forcing himself to stay in control. His eyes flickered with something deep, something raw, as he turned to me. "I'm sorry," he said, voice hoarse. "For everything I put you through. Every fucking thing I allowed to happen because of that bitch."

His words were filled with venom, but not towards me—towards himself.

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat at the sheer emotion in his tone. "Jung—"

But he wasn’t done. His dark eyes locked onto mine, pleading, desperate. "I let you go that day because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn’t have to deal with the same hell she put me through. I thought I was setting you free."

A cold chill ran down my spine. My heartbeat stuttered as a horrible realization began to settle in my chest.

What the hell was he talking about?

My voice came out sharper than I intended. "What do you mean?" I demanded, stepping closer. "What did she do?"

His lips parted slightly, his entire body going rigid as if he was battling with himself. His throat bobbed, his breathing uneven. He looked at me like he wanted to say something—like he wanted to finally tell me everything.

But then he dropped his gaze.

"I’ll tell you another time," he whispered, barely loud enough to hear over the waves. His voice was laced with something heavy—regret, sorrow, fear. "But for now, I just need you to know how fucking sorry I am." His fists clenched at his sides, his entire frame tense. "I shouldn’t have let her put you through that shit. Not when I know what it feels like. Not when I know how much it can destroy a person."

His words hit me like a freight train.

"Jungkook…" I breathed, my voice breaking.

He shook his head, his jaw clenched as if he was barely holding himself together. "You don’t get it," he said, his voice cracking. "I knew what was happening. I saw it, I fucking felt it, and I still did nothing. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve—"

"Look it’s not entirely your fault," I interrupted, stepping closer. "You didn’t have control over everything—"

"But I should have!" His voice was loud, filled with frustration—frustration with himself. His hands raked through his hair, tugging slightly as if trying to ground himself. "I should’ve done something. I should’ve stopped her before any of this happened. But I didn’t. I was too afraid."

I stared at him, feeling my chest tighten at the sheer anguish in his expression.

"I was afraid of losing everything," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper now. "Afraid of what she’d do, afraid of being the person my dad hated." He exhaled sharply, his fists trembling at his sides. "But now… I finally feel like I can change that. That I can take back control. And I promise you—I will."

There was something in his voice, something fierce and unwavering. He wasn’t just saying this to comfort me. He meant it.

I swallowed hard, my lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

Jungkook turned fully to face me then, his eyes locking onto mine with a depth that made my heart ache. "I promise," he continued, his voice softer now, "that I will make these next few days worth it. That I will show you just how much I love you."

The world around me seemed to stop.

I felt my breath hitch, my heart pounding so hard it was deafening. "Y-you…" My voice trembled. "You love me?"

Jungkook let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted away before meeting mine again. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice shy but sure. "I have for a while." He exhaled, his lips twitching into the smallest, most uncertain smile I’d ever seen on him. "So please… just let me try my best to make it up to you."

My entire body stilled.

This was Jungkook. The same Jungkook who had driven me insane, who had hurt me, who had made me feel like I was nothing. The same Jungkook who, despite all of that, had always felt like home.

And he loved me.

A part of me wanted to push him away, to guard myself from the possibility of being broken all over again. But another part—a quieter, more fragile part—wanted to believe him.

I hesitated, then slowly gave him a small nod.

Jungkook exhaled in relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly, as if some of the weight he’d been carrying had lifted.

We didn’t say anything after that. Instead, we both turned to face the ocean again, letting the sound of the waves consume us. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was full of unspoken words, of understanding, of a past that had nearly destroyed us both but hadn’t.

The wind blew strands of my hair into my face, but I didn’t bother fixing it. I was too lost in thought, too consumed by the weight of everything that had just happened.

Jungkook loved me.

And somehow, despite everything…I didn’t know whether to run from it or run to it.

Tuesday:

The soft buzzing of my phone dragged me out of sleep, the vibration humming against my nightstand. Groggily, I reached out, my fingers fumbling for the device as I blinked away the haze of sleep. As I turned my phone over, my brows furrowed slightly at the name lighting up my screen.

Jungkook: Morning, I know it’s early, but I have something planned if you’re up for it.

I stared at the message for a moment, still half-asleep and trying to process the fact that Jungkook was actually texting me. That yesterday had actually happened. That he had confided in me about his childhood and admitted he was in love with me.

A part of me had expected him to back out of this whole “making it up to me” thing. That maybe, after last night, he’d realize that this wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it. But here he was, first thing in the morning, still trying. I hesitated for a moment before finally typing back.

Me: Morning. What exactly do you have planned?

His response was almost instant.

Jungkook: That’s for me to know and for you to find out. Just be ready in an hour. I’ll pick you up.

I rolled my eyes but felt a small, involuntary smile tug at my lips.

Me: Fine. But if this is some elaborate scheme to throw me into a lake or something, just know Kayla will hunt you down.

Jungkook: Noted. See you soon.

With a sigh, I tossed my phone onto the bed and stretched, running a hand through my tangled hair. I swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside. I had agreed to give him a chance and maybe just maybe he deserved it. 

I stood outside Kayla’s house, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for Jungkook to show up. The morning air was crisp, the kind that carried the lingering chill of the night before but promised warmth as the sun climbed higher. I had dressed casually—light-washed jeans, a cropped white t-shirt, and my favorite sneakers—choosing comfort over style since I had no idea what he had planned.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a simple text from him.

Jungkook: I’m here.

Right on cue, the deep hum of an engine broke the quiet street, and I turned to see a sleek black Audi R8 pulling up. My brows lifted slightly. No flashy Bugatti today? The window rolled down, revealing Jungkook in the driver’s seat. His dark hair was down and fluffy again, falling naturally over his forehead, but today he was back in his usual style—black fitted t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and silver rings on his fingers.

He rested his arm on the window frame, scanning me with those sharp eyes before a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Hey,” he said smoothly. “You look nice.”

I raised a brow. “If this is your way of buttering me up, it’s not going to work.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It was worth a try. Now, get in.”

I hesitated, studying him for a moment before sighing and walking around to the passenger side. The second I slipped into the seat and shut the door, his cologne hit me—a mix of warm spice and something undeniably Jungkook.

As he pulled onto the road, I glanced at him. “So, are you actually going to tell me where we’re going, or am I just supposed to blindly trust you?”

Jungkook smirked, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. “Trust is a strong word.”

I scoffed. “Exactly my point.”

He let out a soft laugh but didn’t answer my question. Instead, he reached for the volume dial, turning up the music playing softly through the speakers.

The ride was quiet after that, the only sound filling the car being the music and the faint hum of the engine. Every now and then, I found myself sneaking glances at him—at the way his hand gripped the steering wheel, veins prominent as his fingers flexed and moved, at how his jaw tensed slightly whenever he focused on the road.

It felt… different. Like we were two people simply going on a drive. No history weighing us down. No past mistakes lingering between us. After nearly an hour of driving, the scenery around us began to shift. I frowned slightly, recognizing some of the winding roads.

"Wait a second," I murmured, sitting up straighter as I glanced out the window. "Are we going to—?"

Jungkook just smiled but didn’t say anything.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled onto a long stretch of road, leading to what looked like an old racetrack. It wasn’t grand or modern—no massive stands, no flashing billboards. It was smaller, more intimate, surrounded by trees, with faded tire marks scarring the asphalt.

The kind of place that held more history than most people would ever know.

Jungkook parked near the entrance, cutting the engine. He didn’t say anything right away, just stared out at the track with a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite place.

Finally, he exhaled. “This is the first track I ever visited.”

I turned to him in surprise. “Seriously?”

He nodded, gripping the steering wheel loosely. “Yeah. My mom used to bring me here when I was little.”

I blinked. “Your mom?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the track. “Most people assume my dad was the one who got me into racing. But it was my mom. She was the one who taught me about cars, who told me stories about racers and how they dedicated their lives to the sport. She used to sneak me out here when my dad wasn’t home, just so I could watch the local drivers practice.”

I stared at him, my heart twisting in my chest. “I had no idea.”

He let out a soft chuckle, but it was hollow. “To be fair no one does.”

I glanced out at the track, imagining a younger Jungkook standing here, wide-eyed and excited as his mom explained the mechanics of the cars speeding by. It was a side of him I’d never seen before—one that made him feel more human, more real.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked quietly.

Jungkook turned to me, his gaze softer than I’d ever seen it. “Because… this place was basically home to me and my mum.” He exhaled slowly. “So I wanted to share that with you.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening. He wasn’t just trying to win me over or put on a show. He was letting me in.

A breeze swept through the open track, rustling my hair as I stepped out of the car. The air smelled of asphalt and nostalgia, like years of burnt rubber and faded dreams still clung to the ground. Jungkook stood a few steps ahead, hands shoved into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, his gaze fixed on the empty track in front of us.

I wasn’t sure what to say, or even if I should say anything. There was something fragile about the way he was looking at this place, as if the moment I opened my mouth, I’d shatter whatever memory was playing in his mind.

“You know… I still remember the first time she brought me here,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of something deeply buried. “I was six. Too young to even understand what Formula 1 was, but old enough to know that I loved the way the cars sounded.”

I tilted my head, watching as his lips curled into a soft, almost wistful smile.

“She used to lift me onto her shoulders so I could see over the fence,” he continued. “I remember gripping onto her hair and just… staring in awe at the drivers as they zoomed past.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “She used to say that cars had souls, that if you listened closely enough, you could hear them speak to you.”

I found myself smiling at the thought. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was.” His smile faltered slightly, but he didn’t let the sadness fully take over.

I shifted on my feet, suddenly understanding why he had brought me here. This wasn’t just any racetrack. This was where his love for racing started. Where, for at least a little while, his life had belonged to him and not to the expectations that had been forced onto him.

I took a slow breath, stepping up beside him. “What was she like?”

Jungkook turned to me, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something warmer. “She was stubborn. Like, really stubborn.” He chuckled. “But she was also the kindest person I’ve ever met. She had this way of making everyone feel like they mattered. Like they were worth something.”

His expression darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “That’s why I never understood why she stayed with my dad for so long. She deserved better.”

I hesitated before asking, “Did she ever try to leave?”

He nodded slowly. “She did. A couple of times. But every time she tried, he found a way to pull her back in.” His jaw clenched. “He had this… way of making her feel like she couldn’t survive without him. And I think, in the end, she started to believe it.”

I could hear the anger in his voice, the frustration of a child who had watched his mother suffer but had been powerless to stop it.

Before I could say anything, he suddenly turned to me, eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.

“That’s actually another reason why I let you go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I froze.

“What?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “That day…when I let you walk away from me—I did it because I thought I was protecting you.” He let out a hollow laugh. “I told myself that if I let you go, you wouldn’t end up like her. You wouldn’t end up trapped in something you couldn’t escape from.”

My throat tightened as I took in his words.

“But I was wrong,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “All I did was hurt you. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I clenched them into fists.

His eyes burned with something raw, something vulnerable. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I fucked up in ways I can’t even begin to fix. But for what it’s worth, I swear to you—I never wanted to be the reason you were in pain.”

I felt my chest tighten, emotions clashing inside of me—anger, hurt, confusion, but most of all, an ache I didn’t know what to do with. Silence fell between us again, thick and heavy.

Then, after a long pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

His lips curled into a small smirk. “I figured since we’re here, I might as well teach you how to drive on a track.”

I blinked. “You what?”

Jungkook held out the keys, the amusement in his eyes making it clear that he wasn’t joking. “You told me once that you always wanted to try racing, but you never got the chance.” He shrugged. “So, I’m giving you that chance.”

I stared at the keys in his hand, my heart pounding.

This man was a walking contradiction. One moment, he was breaking my heart with confessions I wasn’t sure how to process. The next, he was standing there, challenging me to take a risk, to do something I had only ever dreamed of.

I exhaled sharply, snatching the keys from his hand. “Fine. But if I crash, you’re paying for damages.”

Jungkook laughed, the sound lighter than before. “Deal.”

Jungkook led me towards the pit area, where a sleek black car was waiting. The polished surface gleamed under the bright overhead lights, its presence almost intimidating. I trailed behind him, the keys he had just handed me feeling oddly heavy in my grip.

“You sure about this?” I asked, eyeing the car warily.

Jungkook turned to me with a smirk. “You scared?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “No. Just… cautious.”

He chuckled, leaning against the hood of the car. “Good. Caution keeps you alive. But hesitation?” He tapped his fingers against the metal. “That’s what stops people from ever getting started.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You sound like some motivational speaker.”

Jungkook laughed, pushing himself off the hood. “Maybe, but I’m serious. Trust yourself, you know cars better than anyone I’ve ever met, so driving one should come naturally.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing he wasn’t wrong. I had spent my whole life obsessed with cars—sketching designs, studying mechanics, dreaming of building something groundbreaking. But actually being behind the wheel of a race car? That was something else entirely.

Still, the challenge was too tempting to ignore.

With a deep breath, I walked around to the driver’s side and slid into the seat. The interior was all leather and high-tech controls, the kind of craftsmanship I’d only ever seen up close a handful of times.

Jungkook leaned down, resting his arms on the open window. “Comfortable?”

I glanced up at him, fingers grazing over the steering wheel. “As I’ll ever be.”

He grinned before stepping back. “Alright. Start it up.”

I took a steadying breath and turned the key. The engine roared to life, vibrating beneath me like a living thing. A rush of excitement shot through me, my fingers tightening instinctively around the wheel.

“Okay,” Jungkook said, his tone shifting into something more serious. “The track is all yours. No pressure, no expectations. Just go at your own pace.”

I exhaled slowly, shifting the car into gear. “Got it.”

The first few moments were cautious. I eased the car forward, letting myself get a feel for how it handled. The power beneath my hands was unlike anything I had ever experienced—smooth yet commanding, ready to surge forward at the slightest command.

As I hit the first turn, something clicked.

I wasn’t just driving. I was feeling the car, the way it moved, the way it responded to my touch. The caution I had held onto melted away, replaced with something I hadn’t expected—freedom.

Jungkook was right. I had spent years studying cars, memorizing every detail of their designs, their builds, their potential. But now, for the first time, I wasn’t just observing. I was experiencing it.

The speed. The control.

I pressed the accelerator, and the car surged forward, hugging the curves of the track as if it were an extension of me. The wind rushed past, my heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the engine.

I was flying.

By the time I completed a full lap, my adrenaline was sky-high. I pulled back into the pit area, my hands shaking slightly as I shifted into neutral and shut off the engine.

Jungkook was waiting, arms crossed, a proud smirk on his lips. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

I let out a breathless laugh, my body still buzzing from the high. “Holy shit.”

He chuckled. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It really does.”

Jungkook tapped the roof of the car. “Told you.”

I climbed out, my legs slightly unsteady beneath me. Jungkook was watching me closely, his expression softer now. “You belonged out there,” he said, almost to himself. “I could see it.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.

I looked down, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. “Well, don’t get used to it. This was just a one-time thing.”

Jungkook tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

I hesitated.

Was I?

Before I could answer, he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the stands. “Come on.”

“Jungkook—where are we going now?”

He didn’t answer, just led me up the steps until we reached one of the higher rows. From here, we had a perfect view of the entire track.

Jungkook sat down first, motioning for me to do the same. I hesitated before lowering myself beside him, the warmth of his body radiating next to mine.

For a while, we just sat there in silence, watching the track stretch out beneath the night sky.

Then, his voice broke the stillness.

“My mom used to bring me up here after a race.” His gaze was distant, lost in memory. “We’d sit together and just watch the cars go by. She’d always tell me that one day, I’d be down there—one of them.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “And she was right.”

I watched him carefully, the soft glow of the floodlights casting shadows across his face. “She’d be proud of you.”

His throat bobbed, but he didn’t look at me. “I’d hope so.”

I reached out, hesitating for only a second before gently placing my hand over his. His fingers twitched beneath mine, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know so,” I murmured.

Jungkook turned his palm upward, his fingers hesitantly lacing through mine. He held me there, grounding me, as if the moment would slip away if he let go.

“I haven’t brought anyone here before,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

I glanced at him, surprised. “Not even your team? Or…Jade?”

He shook his head. “No. This place isn’t just a track to me. It’s…more than that. It was where I felt closest to my mom and where I learned to dream.” He exhaled softly. “I never wanted to taint it with anything else.”

His words settled in my chest, heavier than I expected.

“Then why bring me here?” I asked carefully.

Jungkook turned his head fully, facing me now. His dark eyes were steady, holding something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

“Because you remind me of her.”

A lump formed in my throat.

I should have looked away, should have let go of his hand before things went too far. But I didn’t. Because despite everything—despite the past, despite the walls I had built between us—his words made something deep inside me crack.

I wanted to fight it. But at the same time, I wanted to believe him.

“I—”

Before I could say anything, Jungkook suddenly stood, pulling me up with him. “There’s one last thing I want to show you.”

I let him lead me down the stairs and back toward the pit area. The air was crisp against my skin, but Jungkook’s hand in mine was warm, steady.

When we reached the track, I saw another car waiting. But this time, it wasn’t a sleek racing machine. It was an older model, worn but well taken care of. Jungkook walked up to it, running his fingers along the hood with something close to reverence.

“This was my mom’s car,” he said softly.

I blinked in surprise. “Wait, this?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She used to drive me around in this all the time. It’s the first car I ever learned to work on.” He let out a small chuckle. “Probably the reason I fell in love with cars in the first place.”

I stepped closer, running my hand along the smooth surface. It wasn’t flashy like the cars Jungkook usually drove. But there was something about it—something sentimental, something real.

“She really taught you everything, didn’t she?” I murmured.

Jungkook smiled, but there was a sadness in it. “Yeah. Everything that mattered.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching for the boy he used to be. The boy who lost his mother too soon. The boy who had to grow up under a father who never truly saw him.

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you for bringing me here,” I said sincerely.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for coming.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

Then, Jungkook cleared his throat, stepping back. “Alright, enough of the heavy stuff. You up for another drive?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to drive this?”

He grinned. “It’s a piece of history. It deserves to be driven.”

I hesitated, then smirked. “Fine. I’ll do it in honour of your mum.”

“She’d love that.” he said, a distant smile playing on his lips.

[whimstea]

Is that image in the screenshot the new world...?

Okay I had to go watch the trailer again. Nordhaven is cute, I like it well enough. I will enjoy it in my game.

You know what's also cute, and I would adore having in my game? Let's start with the super fucking obvious; Cape Town.

Some of their beaches have PENGUINS, that's right PENGUINS motherfucking cute ass penguins

Do I know anything about literally anywhere in Africa? No. But I know cute shit when I see it and looooook

tell me you dont want all that in your game

and have any of you heard of Morocco?

come oooonnnnn that is too goddamn beautiful how boring do you have to be to not want that

Cairo? I miss the Pyramids from Sims 3

Tunisia?

and do i even need to say anything about the Caribbean?

yes pleaseeee

like, you could make the next 10 worlds based on places in Africa or the Caribbean alone and they would all look vastly different and amazing. i just picked colorful ones cuz i loooove them

they're allowed to be annoyed, that even with THIS to offer, they're feeling ignored. you can like the new neighborhood and still see what's lacking. you can be happy with what you have but understand why other's feel sidelined. i mean, 15 of the worlds are based in America, either the pacific northwest or the utah/nevada desert areas. Sulani is Hawaii. Tartosa is Medeterrainan/Italian, Britechester is Oxford in England, Henford on Bagley is also England. Forgotton Hollow and Ravenwood are Transylvania/Romania, Windinburg is based on Luxembourg. San Myshuno is vaguely Hong Kong, and that pretty much leaves the Japan and SE Asia inspired worlds. Ciudad Enamorada is still pretty new, and one of my favorite worlds. Selvadora is only a vacation world unless you use a mod! I can see why they're like, "Hey, when can we get some more locations even just... closer to the equator, eh?"

i can see how Nordhaven is different from Windenburg, but i can also see the similarities, made even more stark when contrasted to the vibrant, beautiful locations that havent gotten ANY attention yet

its no secret the black simmers have had to make most of their own shit, it's really not out of pocket to be salty about not getting some representation YET again

Very disappointed in the Sims community and their very vocal distain towards Black Simmers for begging for a Caribbean/African themed world, especially because they're literally SO MANY American/European themed worlds...like there's even 3 Asian/2 Latinx themed worlds and we barely have 1, EVEN THE DAMN IMAGINARY STAR WARS WORLD BUT NO...we get edges, hairs, SOME clothing, but not a world? Like the closest thing we have to anything Caribbean is the St.Feu household that Maxis created, and even then that's JUST A HOUSEHOLD ON THE GALLERY. Stop silencing BLACK Simmers, like y'all show y'all asses every time we speak our opinions or real shit. A whole account was suspended because of the mass reporting just because a Black Simmer asked to be represented...I hate how even in the big year of 2025, over 25 years of The Sims, it's never enough being a Black Simmer.

[namgyusbeastbaby]

Don't take things that aren't yours

hello!! this is my first fic, please be mindful :)

based off of a request from @luvfordaeho that wanted lee!nam-gyu and ler!thanos, thank you for requesting it, by the way! <3

!! sorry if its mischaracterised, im not as good as interpreting characters like before !!

~~~

{[summary]} : nam gyu is bored, very bored, and needs entertainment. so, he pulls a prank on thanos to see if he notices any pills going missing, and he does. he thinks he knows who the culprit is, but needs to test something!

~~~

After the Six-Legged-Pentathlon, Nam-Gyu was bored out of his fucking mind. He'd usually have Thanos to talk to, but Thanos was with stupid Min-Su and that Se-Mi bitch (his words, not mine!).

He went to Thanos' bunk to see if he could rile him up or piss him off somehow, and then he came across the older man's necklace. It was a surprise, really, Thanos never left his cross unattended, but it seemed this was a rare and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Smirking to himself, Nam-Gyu picked the cross up delicately, as if it was the most fragile, ancient artifact known to man, and analysed it with a hungry gaze. Gosh, he had found the perfect thing.

Without thinking, he popped it open and took a few out. Surely Thanos wouldn't notice, right? I mean, he was oblivious to most things.

If this was a gameshow the biggest, fattest incorrect buzzer would be played, ever. EVERR

Because, well, Nam-Gyu was sneaky, and quite naive, as he took 2 pills. One for now, one for later. He ate one, stuffed one in his pocket and then went to go join the others.

"Hey, guys." Nam-Gyu sat next to Thanos casually, the both exchanging glances.

"What's up, my boy? Finally got out of your bunk?" The purple-haired rapper said in a teasing tone, a slight hint of skepticism in it that Nam-Gyu couldn't quite catch because he was under the pills influence.

"Yeah.. Figured I'd join you guys, got nothing to do." The younger said, boredom laced into his tone as he manspread a bit, listening to the others talk as he just fidgeted with his sweater paws, something he didn't usually do unless high. Thanos noticed this, and glanced at him.

"You good, bro?" He asked, gesturing to his hands. When Thanos was skeptical, he'd always find an answer.

"Mhm.." Nam-Gyu weakly nodded, not paying attention to Thanos. Although, he did look at him when he stood up. "Where are you going, Than?" He asked, using a little nickname on him.

"To get my cross."

Shit.

"But, why? It's not like anyone wants it, they don't know what's inside." Nam-Gyu attempted to seem nonchalant, shrugging. Although, inside, he knew he was fucked. It was inevitable.

"I need to recount my pills, you know? Just to make sure no one's taken them, yeah?"

Nam-Gyu went pale.

"Just wait here, yeah?" Thanos patted Nam-Gyu's thigh with a gentle squeeze. He smirked as Nam-Gyu covered his mouth, and walked off. It seemed Nam-Gyu was holding back a squeal, but, he wasn't that ticklish on his thighs?

The culprit had revealed himself quite easily, and Thanos couldn't have been happier. He then recounted his pills; 17 left, he had 19 before. That little shit took two!

Whatever, he couldn't be mad at Nam-Gyu. For one, he knew the younger was bored, second of all, he had done the same with some of his friends before. And, thirdly, he'd have his revenge soon.

He then waltzed other to Nam-Gyu calmly, and told him to follow him. Nam-Gyu nervously followed him. Thanos knew Nam-Gyu wasn't a fan of being publicly tickled, so, he took him to his (Thanos') bunk, a more private area.

"So, bro, care to explain where two of my pills went?"

He asked, sitting Nam-Gyu on the bed with a smirk. He wasn't made really. He was impressed, impressed that Nam-Gyu had the guts, and that he managed to pull it off.

"I don't know, maybe you swallowed them without thinking?" He tried to make up excuses, but he knew it was futile. Denial isn't always bad, is it?

"Then, you don't mind me testing your sensitivity, yeah, boy? I know your nerves, top to bottom! Being high causes sensitivity, hm?"

Nam-Gyu felt his heart in his throat. But, otherwise, he bravely accepted the challenge. He wasn't a pussy, and, plus, he could keep his reactions in, right?

"Fine."

"Great then, I'll be gentle!"

Ooh, how Nam-Gyu was so sensitive to gentle tickles. He tensed up when he felt Thanos gently tracing his ribs through the fabric of his jumper and shirt. Gosh, despite how thick they were, nothing would protect him from the older man's tickles. He almost burst out laughing right then and there, so he had to cover his mouth.

"Nuh-uh, Nam-Su. No covering your mouth, need to hear if your sensitivity is boosted or not, hm?"

He gently held Nam-Gyu's hand down, continuing to trace his ribs. Thanos knew how to break him, because he kept on nearing that one rib. It was driving him crazy.

"C-C'mon, Thaha- Thanos, I didn't take them-"

"Are you sure?" He asked with a grin, finding the younger man adorable, stopping the tickling on his ribs to pick his hands up in his and take his hands from his sleeves. He then started to gently trace his palms, and Nam-Gyu burst into soft, high-pitched giggles. He couldn't help it, his palms were already so sensitive!

"Stahaha- Stohop! Thahanos, you cahahan't-" He protested, trying to move away, but was also melting into the tickles. Smiling brightly, he leaned against Thanos, giggling his little heart out as Thanos raised an eyebrow. He had never seen Nam-Gyu so affectionate when high, it was a bit uncharacteristic.

"What's this about not taking my pills, then, boy? Did you lie to me?"

Thanos pried gently, mocking the lee softly as he didn't tease too much. It seemed Nam-Gyu was in an affectionate mood, and he wouldn't ruin that moment. And, plus, he knew what it was like to feel this way. He had been bored in his 20's and around ages 17-19. He knew what it was like to want to provoke somebody, and he knew it well.

"Nohoho, duhude! IhI- I dihihidn't!" Nam-Gyu was about to say something else, but, his protest was cut off and overtaken by a squeal. He was glad Thanos was sober, or he'd be fucked. Absolutely fucked.

Well, he still was.

Just not as much! Because, well, Thanos knew his limits here, and-

"THAHANOHOHOHOS!"

Nam-Gyu was cut out of his train of thoughts as he felt tracing on his bare skin, on his stomach. Thanos knew that was a bad spot, and planned to exploit it.

"SHIHIT- DUHUHUDE! OKAHAHAHAY- MAHAHAHAYBE I TOOK OHOHONE!"

"Maybe? One? I don't know, Nam-"

"OKAHAHAY- TWOHOHO! I TOHOHOOK TWOHOHO! DEHEHEFINITELYHEHE!-"

"Hm. Thank you, for admitting it."

Thanos smirked a bit, before letting Nam-Gyu go, ruffling his hair. He noticed how the younger seemed to want need a bit more affection, so Thanos wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him closer.

"You're lucky I'm sober, or I would've kept on going, Gyu."

He rubbed his back gently, making sure Nam-Gyu was okay. He passed him some leftover water he had.

"Just don't take my pills without permission again, alright, bro? Or, I'll take a pill before I see you squirm."

He watched as Nam-Gyu flushed a bit, a rare sight.

"Yeah, yeah, w-whatever."

Despite acting quite upset, he wasn't. He leaned into Thanos' touch, the touch reminding him of a friend or two he used to have.

He felt safe.

So, maybe this place wasn't so bad after all?

@secretly-tword-obsessed

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Look at me finally finishing something!

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 5: Mundane chores

Operation Supermarket (AO3)

Food shop/grocery shopping

(it's mostly from Tommy's pov so Buck is referred to as Evan)

I have a lot of partially written fics/ficlets for almost all of the days, and I do plan on finishing all of them - though they probably won't be posted on the 'right' days.

----

"Do you have the list?"

"Yup. Right here." Tommy handed over the item as he pushed their shopping cart into the supermarket with his free hand.

He'd given Evan free rein of the kitchen and planning their second six month anniversary, and the other man approached it with an almost military precision.

He'd spent weeks scrolling through cooking websites, looking through cookbooks, and even a Rolodex of recipes he'd gotten from somewhere until he'd put together the perfect anniversary dinner.

Even though Tommy had told him more than once he'd be happy to go out to dinner or even just order a pizza.

"Babe you forgot the garlic." Evan pulled him out of his thoughts, studying the shopping list and apparently making notes.

Tommy had no idea where he'd even gotten a pen from.

"No, I didn't forget it, I didn't put it on the list because we still have some."

"No we don't, I used the last of it last night."

Tommy frowned.

"We ordered in last night."

"Yeah but I started prepping for dinner tonight while you were at the game with Eddie." Evan explained. "The sauce takes a long time... and it needs garlic. Which you forgot to put on the list, even though I wrote it on the note board on the fridge."

The small white board and marker on his fridge had been one of Evan's changes to his kitchen when he'd started spending more time at Tommy's place and essentially made the kitchen his own.

He had to admit it was useful to keep track of what he'd ran out of and what he needed to buy for specific meals, or even just what was on offer, but Tommy had always been a quick look in the fridge before leaving for the store kind of guy, and usually decided on the spot if he liked any of the special offers.

Evan's methods were very different.

"The note board doesn't work if you don't look at it, Tom." Evan sighed.

"I'm trying to make myself remember, I promise."

"You can just get rid of it if you don't like it... but I just... I thought it was a good way to keep track of things."

"It is. I'm just not really used to it yet." Tommy explained. "You have a certain way of doing things and I have mine, we just need to find a way to make them fit with mine. And we will."

Evan gave him a small smile and turned back to the list.

"Alright if we go aisle to aisle, it'll be more efficient, and we'll have time to stop by Miceli's."

"Miceli's? I thought you didn't want to go back there because the place is cursed?"

"It is cursed." Evan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you love their spumoni and the tiramisu is great... and we can still treat ourselves to the food if we take it to go."

"So the curse is just the building then? Not the food?" Tommy teased. "Are we really going to risk it?"

"Yes because I'm not letting you walk away again." Evan vowed. "Been there, done that, didn't enjoy it, won't be doing it again."

"Same here." Tommy smiled. "Ok, so, garlic. What else is on the list?"

Evan scanned the list and looked around the store.

"We need bread and those crackers you like that taste of nothing."

"They're a healthy and easy snack." Tommy protested

"It's like eating cardboard." Evan replied without missing a beat. "Right, I need to pick up some snacks for Jee because I have her on Thursday... and you start a 48 on Friday that overlaps with my 72 starting Saturday, so we'll be back at yours... Tuesday or Wednesday. Unless you want to come over to mine right after my shift? Or you could stop by the firehouse after yours, I'm sure everyone would love to see you. And you know Bobby is fine with it as long as everything still gets done. And - " he looked up to find Tommy staring at him. "What? What's that look?"

"What look? I don't have a look."

"Yes you do. You -"

"He loves you honey." an old lady patted Evan on the arm. "My husband used to look at me like that. We were together 44 years. You hold onto to that one honey. He's a good one. I can see it in his eyes." she smiled at them both and then continued with her shopping.

Tommy walked over to him, slid his arms around Evan's waist and kissed him.

"Yeah. What she said."

[shazzbaa]

I'm sorry bit I just love the idea of Poor Edward thinking he's hot shit with his creepy gifts and deranged letters, then here comes Samuel who's even more fucked up than him, looking for some homoerotic stabbing while Edward cries. Baby faced loser just cannot handle an experienced freak.

LAKSJDFLASEKJES INCREDIBLE ASK TO RECEIVE, THANK YOU

but okay listen I think they're on different freaky axes. Stalking, sending someone your skin in the mail, getting possessive and jealous enough to kidnap their baby, those are all ROMANTIC freak activities. Samuel did not get the skin and go "pff, amateur, get on my level," LIKE HE WAS PRETTY DISTURBED TO GET EDWARDS SKIN IN THE MAIL. and then Sam is not really romantically inclined, he is just SEXUALLY freaky (calling him an "experienced freak" absolutely delights me but I don't know if this is true, he DOES like homoerotic stabbing but hes still a confused and repressed Victorian gentleman) while Edward simply does not seem to be sexually inclined at all?? TBH I pretty strongly headcanon him as asexual just based on how he handles love and marriage... So they're just on different tracks.

BUT HONESTLY?? IM NOT EVEN SURE THATS THE ISSUE. gets fully sidetracked with my Poor Edward Is A Kinky Ace headcanons

Thoughts & Evidence: - pain/injury: top - he "dislikes butchery" and seems to have a flair for causing psychological terror over simple murder, but causing people real tangible pain is the one thing he truly misses in his happiest ending. - restraint/confinement: switch - hes SO fixated on the coffin thing but ALSO in That One Very Normal Silverer Option hes fine playing along when YOU restrain HIM, it's only when you threaten to murder him that he actually freaks out - control; dom/sub: bottom - this never occurred to me during the ambition but makes a lot of sense in retrospect... he wants a master to pledge himself to and he's not sure if you're going to take that slot or not so he flips back and forth between pitching himself as a loyal henchman and a sadistic tormentor as he tries to capture your affection. But the only way to actually be with him is to fully take control, to essentially tell him "new plan: i do whatever I want, and you lock yourself in this building until I get back <3" and he's SO HAPPY TO DO IT.

All this to say that like, there's a couple of actual obstacles here, but neither of them are "erotic stabbing is too much for Edward." HE just doesn't wanna get murdered! BUT LIKE THATS PERFECTLY COMPATIBLE, SAMUEL IS ON BOARD FOR BEING THE GUY GETTING LOVINGLY MURDERED!!!!

I strongly suspect the actual obstacles here are: (a) Sam is too much of a bottom to be Poor Edward's master but also (b) Poor Edward is chemically impaired. In the whole first chunk of Light Fingers he's grabbing you constantly, easily overpowers you, and has NO PROBLEMS inflicting death as long as it's not permanent, but after the moon-milk he NEVER TOUCHES YOU AGAIN unless/until you actually consent to the wedding. THIS IS A FASCINATING DETAIL TO ME. He's clearly frustrated with you at points and trying to force your hand, and he doesn't seem to mind you getting hurt in the Nightmare-Orphanage when he's not the one doing it; can he just not bear to attack you himself????? ARE HE AND SAMUEL BOTH EQUALLY FRUSTRATED BY HIS INABILITY TO JUST FIGHT SAM

[frogemeat]

Back on my shit for my relativity falls AU where Stan goes missing because I can!! And no one can stop me!

So let’s actually dive into the characters a bit more this time and their reactions to Stan’s disappearance.

We’re going to start with Mabel because I feel like in any universe Mabel and Stan have a special connection, one where they just understand eachother, y’know?

In my relativity falls au, Stan is reluctant to open up at first to Mabel. Surprisingly it was Ford who warmed up to her first. Stan, at first, is very distrustful of adults and people in authority in general (when I get you Filbrick, when I get you-) so he keeps distance between himself and Mabel at first.

He’s his usual rambunctious self, loud and unapologetic about, but he doesn’t rant to her about the latest addition of his favorite comic, he doesn’t let her look at his drawings and anytime she wants to spend one on one time on him he would turn her down. Eventually he warmed up to her, which is more my actual relativity falls au then this, so I won’t go into it (unless someone wants me to 👀).

So when I say Mabel worked hard, she worked hard to get Stan’s trust. And she’s proud of that dammit!

To her Stan is such a bright star who’s often overlooked by his genius of a twin brother (something she can heavily relate too) and she wanted to nurture his creativity. And she did!

She displayed the weird Frankenstein taxidermy he made in the shack, she taught him how to knit and sew and he even started to let her watch “the duchess approves” with her!

They grew close and Mabel started to see both the twins as her sons. She had suspicions that their home life was… less than good and she was SUPER unsure about sending them home after summer ended. She didn’t think the decision would’ve been made for her.

Weirdmaggdeon was over. They won. Steve (Bill’s replacement in this AU) is gone. But they weren’t celebrating. The only thought the three Pines had was…

Where’s Stan?

They searched the woods for him long at the r the sun set. She had to drag Ford back home when he started tripping over his own feet, his exhaustion evident. Ford tried to insist he was okay, that he could keep looking, that he needed to keep looking, that Stan was out there, he needed to continue. Stan would keep looking for him if their roles were reversed.

All Mabel could do was shush him as he cried against her shoulder.

Dipper stayed behind and kept looking and both Mabel and Ford went home without their other half. Long after Ford had passed out Dipper had finally come home, empty handed. They spent the rest of the night talking about what to do. They would check town first thing in the morning, they had decided. Maybe in his daze he had wandered out of the woods and one of the townsfolk’s found him. If not, they would go to the police, see if anyone had reported a small brown haired preteen wandering around. (

They also discussed the possibility of Stan being dead, but Mabel couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. They quickly stopped when Mabel started to cry.)

She had just met the twins, only known them for three months, yet they were hers. Her boys. Her babies. Her peanut and walnut. And Stan was gone.

The boy she swore to protect, the boy who pretended he was tough when he was really the sweetest kid she ever met.

Days go by and still no Stan. Ford refuses to talk to anyone, Dipper is out of the house for most of the day searching, and Mabel is left alone, surrounded by half finished knitting projects and echoes of a boy who’s laughter warmed her heart.

She cries a lot. That’s all she does for the first few months.

One day, after Ford’s parents (not Stan and Ford’s, just Ford’s, because apparently no one remember’s her little peanut outside of Gravity Falls) drops off all his stuff for his apprenticeship with Dipper, she’s pulls herself together, makes her famous Mabelcakes, and starts to rebuild. Dipper had done amazing keeping them together, but it was time for some Mabel magic.

Three years pass and the Stan shaped hole in their family doesn’t get smaller. Ford still turns to his right whenever he gets excited, Mabel still hasn’t watched the season finale of “the duchess approves” (she couldn’t finish it without Stan, not when he was so excited to show it to her), and Dipper sometimes still goes into the woods to search.

Ford is turning 17 in a few weeks. June 15th. She’s in Greasy’s after deciding that a snack sounded good after buying birthday presidents for her walnut and instead of Susan greeting her and taking her order like she has since she started working there, she was greeted with a new face.

A familiar face.

Even older, more pimply, and with a beanie pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes, she would recognize him.

Her peanut.