#dt replies to things

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 11 - Loss

[allthecastlesonclouds]

most episodes have closed-captions, it's mostly so i can clean up any mistakes and know who is saying what -> this poll is really just to know how quickly/what order to do the transcripts in/whether i should do the livestream, so reblogging would be helpful :)

S1 TRANSCRIPTS OUT (and literally all other drawtectives content! go check the @drawtectives-transcripts blog)

[ask-the-sexyman-squad-archive]

How often does Alastor remind Double Trouble that they're the most beautiful creature in all of creation?

No this isn't me wanting you to draw DT again what are you talking about why would I do that it's not like I'm OBSESSED or anything--

--@call-me-double-trouble

"Oh, quite often...~ How can one not notice their stunning self?"

His eyes trailed down to watch the questioner. His grin broadened, and he took Double Trouble's hand into his own, his eyes lighting up with almost a sweet, tender look under the usual chaotic and manipulative gaze.

"Their beauty is not my main focus: it's their wit, their type of entertainment and that oh-so appealing flair...because of that, I have fallen hard. Even now, after years of being together, there are still many things I would do for them,"

"As I would for him~ how could I not? He's been the utmost faithful, and I couldn't ask for more. That charming smile makes me weak at the knees~"

He brought them into a dip, bowing lowly. They brought their leg up a bit, bending the other in a comfortable position. Their hands went up to his head and the side of his face, while his hand remained on their back.

"Oh, the amount of lines I would cross for only him...the crimes I would commit~"

"I would die for them...I would kill for them."

"I have killed for them, a̸̪̎̈́́̅̒̀̃͜n̴̝͌́́̚ḑ̸̩̼͎̞̹̤́ ̸̡̢̦͔̝̗̳̦͂̀̓̚̕͝͝ŵ̵̼̰̣̰̥̮͊͂̚͝į̸̡̰̺̺̙̏͘͝͝l̵̬̏̈́̅̌͘l̴̯͛̍̀̊̚ ̵̻̒́͂̀d̵̢̨͈̤̝̥̮͂̋͐̾̈͝͠o̴̝͓͖̲̮̝͖͚̓̈́̂̓͘ ̷̖̀i̸̛̛̝̙̩̜̮̻̙͂̿͛̔͠͝t̸̝̥̩̥̣͋̒̈́̈̈́̃̾ ̵̖̙̿̄̋̑̏͐à̴̢̲̩̗̝̼̉́̓̊͗̚ͅg̵̣̒͐̃̊̓̍̌͂ā̶̞̓͂͝ị̴̲̥̣͍͉͔͝n̸̢̛̛͍̯̬̙̳̔͒̊̊͝.̶̲̻͇̣̻͖͑͊͘͜."

(NORMAL: and will do it again.)

[thewrldx]

Best Friends, Better Lovers — S.S

pic creds to @deathlysallows!!

Synopsis: Sebastian Sallow is your best friend, but you fell in love with him. What are you going to do when your secret letter ends up in his hands?

Sebastian Sallow x FemaleReader

WC: 3.8K

18+ aged up characters, obviously in love best friends to lovers, soft smut.

DT: @sallowsproperty my sweet dani—you deserve soft seb 🥹

i never write sweet things bare with me

also ignore the mistakes it's 2:48am

MDNI!

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

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　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

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　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

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　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

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　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　

As soon as Professor Weasley signaled Transfiguration class was over, you were up and moving, weaving through desks with one goal in mind.

Your best friend had missed your first class today—no explanation, just an empty seat at the table where he normally slouched with a smirk and a quill he never used properly. You weren’t sure you wanted to know why he’d skipped. But you still wanted to see him.

Sebastian was still seated, deliberately slow in packing his bag, like he was stalling. Drawing it out on purpose. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he already knew you’d come over, that he was waiting for it. Maybe even hoping for it.

You reached his desk and leaned against it with a practiced ease, propping one elbow behind you, a subtle arch to your back just enough to draw his gaze in case he wanted to look.

You hoped he wanted to look.

Your smile was small, barely there, one that lived more in your eyes than your mouth. The kind of smirk that hinted at trouble. Dangerous.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you said, voice light, teasing. It was not a complaint, just a jab aimed to get under his skin the way you always knew how to.

“I missed one class,” he replied, looking up at you, but not too fast. Almost as if he was trying not to stare. “Hardly grounds for exile.”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know, Sallow. Seems a little suspicious. Were your causing mayhem without your partner in crime?”

A hand flies over your chest in mock offense, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“And if I was?” He challenges.

You reach into your satchel and pull out a few pages of parchments, holding it up between two fingers. Notes. Neatly written, edges crisp, possibly color-coded.  “Then you wouldn’t get these.”

Sebastian blinked. “You took notes for me?”

You gave him a look. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you retorted, though the corner of your mouth tugged upward. “Ominis was going to set them on fire. Something about not deserving them if you don’t care to show up.”

His eyes sparkled then, deep brown catching the slant of afternoon light. It seemed he was thoroughly amazed with the fact that you took notes for him.

Your breath hitched, but you tried to mask it quickly.

“I thought I’d be your academic savior.”

He leaned back in his chair at your quip, arms crossing lazily over his chest. The movement pulled his robes tighter over his frame, but you tried not to notice. Just like he tried not to notice the way your collar had come undone, the fabric loose around your neck after a long day.

You both were failing spectacularly.

“You mean to tell me,” he began, “you spent your precious free time writing out notes to rescue me from academic ruin?”

You shrugged, feeling a slight flush beginning to creep on your cheeks. You brushed imaginary lint from your skirt, trying to regain some sense of composure. “Someone has to stop you from flunking out.”

“So you do like me that much.”

You rolled your eyes, because it was easier than telling the truth—which was, yes.

Yes, you did like him that much.

But he was your best friend.

You shifted just slightly. The angle of your body changing enough to make him sit up a little straighter. You held out the notes and didn’t let go when he reached for them. Your fingers brushed his, just once, and it was like flint striking against steel. A spark that both of you pretended you didn’t feel.

“In your dreams, Sallow,” you said smoothly. “I did miss you arguing with Sharp, though. Something about how many inches should be due next week.”

Sebastian snorted. “I could have talked him down.”

“Or gotten detention.”

He shrugged, reckless and unapologetic. It was one of the reasons you fell for him. Not just the charm and witty remarks—but the way he made everything seem easy, like gravity never pulled quite so hard on him. It was infuriating.

Intoxicating.

Inevitable.

You realized then that your hands were still touching.

One of you should have pulled away, said something clever and meaningless. But instead, your eyes met his, steady, and for a heartbeat you wondered if maybe it wasn’t stupid to feel this way for him.

Then he took the notes, a bit too quickly, shattering that shred of confidence. His fingers fumbled as he shoved them into his bag like they were suddenly too much to hold.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“Of course.”

A beat.

“Loser.”

His expression softened at the insult, like something in the word, or perhaps the way you said it, had altered his heart once more. It broke the tension, just as you had wanted.

You pushed off the desk, brushing by with a whisper of fabric. If you lingered too long, especially while he was looking at you like that, you’d say something you shouldn’t. something a best friend wouldn’t say.

“See you tonight,” you called over your shoulder, already peeking out into the corridor.

He didn’t get the chance to reply.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • . .

Dear Sebastian.

I don’t know why I’m writing this.

I mean, I do. I was talking to Ominis, because that attentive bastard found out my secret, and he told me to. Said writing things out helped him when he couldn’t say them aloud. And because he’s irritatingly wise, I listened.

But I’m not going to give this to you. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Because if you ever read these words, if you knew the extent of what you really meant to me, I think I’d actually dissolve on the spot.

Spontaneous combustion via sheer embarrassment.

Here it is anyways.

I am in love with you, Sebastian Sallow.

Not the soft, sensible kind of love, the kind the creeps up gently and asks permission. No, Merlin help me, this is the all-consuming, knock-the-wind-out-of-me, ruin me forever kind of love. The kind that has engraved on my soul, whether I like it or not.

I’m surely going mad.

It’s getting worse. I can’t go a few hours without looking for you in a room, or imagining what you’d say in the middle of class. I miss you before you’re even gone. That’s probably not normal.

Definitely not normal.

Two whole years of this. Two years of being your best friend, of pretending that’s all I wanted. Watching you be reckless and brilliant and infuriatingly charming and telling myself I wasn’t falling in love.

I let you drag me into arachnid infested cave dwellings and up mountains in the pouring rain. I let you talk me into breaking rules and curfews and probably a few laws. I learned the way your brow furrowed when you’re focused. How your voice gets soft when you’re talking to me but don’t realize it.

I know how you laugh when I say something that actually surprises you. How you sing—horribly off-key—when you think no one’s listening, and dance like an idiot in the Undercroft when you’ve had too much of the that terrible honey mead. (Which, for the record, you stole. I was only an accomplice, like most times.)

I know you better than anyone.  

Falling in love with you was never part of the plan. I think I would’ve avoided you altogether if I had known this was the outcome. Because now, nothing else compares. And the worst part is, I think you’ll never see me that way. Not really.

You’ll keep teasing me, keep being your impossibly frustrating self, and I’ll keep pretending it doesn’t make me ache in ways I don’t even have words for.

So, this letter—it’s a secret.

A coward’s confession.

Something I will most likely set ablaze the moment I finish it.

Yours. Always.

P.S. I will have to thank Ominis, because I feel, barely, better.

Sebastian had read that piece of parchment in your elegant scrawl once.

Then again.

And then a third time, just to make sure he hadn’t dozed off in his dorm and conjured it all up in some twisted dream.

It was quiet, Ominis had vanished off somewhere, muttering something about needing peace, and the rest of the boys were still lingering at dinner. He bailed early, knowing that he should probably be responsible, and take advantage of those notes that you had graciously given to him.

Except when he thought of you handing them over—propped up against his desk, giving him that dangerous half-smile, gracious was not the word he would use.

Sebastian dropped onto his bed, grinning to himself. You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t care, but the ink on those pages said otherwise. They were detailed with tiny margin comments that almost felt like whispered jokes.

He pulled the pages from his bag and tossed them onto the blanket in front of him. His intent was noble, skim the outlie and read a line or two, enough to commit one potion recipe to memory before inevitably tossing them aside.

Something slipped from the stack.

A single folded piece parchment, thicker than the rest, slightly creased at the corners.

He frowned, brow creasing as he picked it up. It wasn’t labeled, just tucked between a diagram and an oddly flirtatious doodle of a bubbling cauldron.

It probably wasn’t supposed to be there.

But then he saw his name.

In your handwriting.

His entire body went still, immediately sitting up straighter.

He unfolded the letter slowly, like it might vanish if he moved too fast.

And then he read.

And read.

And read.

By the end, his heart was hammering like he’d just sprinted across the castle. Every word screamed you—sarcastic, stubborn, heartbreakingly vulnerable.

You had written that you had the kind of love he’d only dared imagine in the late hours of the night when everything else was quiet. Confessed the very thing he’d spent months—hell, a year—trying to bury.

Sebastian rubbed at his jaw, staring at the end of the letter, his thumb hovering over the last line.

Yours. Always.

He let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Coward,” he murmured, a smile curling despite the ache in his chest. “You absolute coward.”

You loved him.

And you had no idea that he loved you, too.

That every other girl had paled in comparison since the moment you walked into his life with a smart tongue and a heart bigger than you let on.

And you wrote it down with the intention of burning it.

Sebastian folded the letter carefully, pressed it to his chest for one suspended second, letting himself feel everything.

Then he stood.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. . • . .

You were dying a slow, humiliating death.

The realization hit halfway through brushing your hair, your eyes snapping open in horror as your stomach sank. That stupid letter you wrote. The one you poured your heart into like some desperate romantic.

It had been in your bag.

Next to your Potions notes.

You flung yourself across the room like a girl possessed, digging through your bag, once. Twice. Dumping it completely. Then tearing through your belongings like they’d personally betrayed you.

Gone.

It was gone.

And you knew exactly where it went.

A tidal wave of panic surged through your bloodstream, burning hotter than any fever. Not only had you accidentally handed over a soul-bearing love confession, but you’d done it to Sebastian Sallow.

Your best friend.

This was it. The end. The absolute, mortifying, inescapable end. He was going to read it and probably laugh, or worse, pity you.

This was surely going to ruin everything. Your friendship. Your entire existence.

You did the only thing a sane person could do in such a state.

You crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over your head, curled into a mortified little ball, and vowed never to emerge again.

Maybe the blankets would absorb the shame, and if you held perfectly still, Sebastian would forget you ever existed and move on with his life without ever bringing up the letter.

But of course, you weren’t that lucky.

Not even fifteen minutes after the devastating realization, you heard the soft creak of your dormitory door opening.

You went rigid.

Please be a roommate. Please be a ghost. Hell, let it be Peeves. Anyone but—

“…Hey.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

No no no no—

“I know you’re in here.”

His voice was soft, and amused. Way too smug and far too close for comfort.

When you didn’t respond, he took advantage of the silence.

“You left me a love letter,” he added casually, like that cursed thing hadn’t just detonated your world. A pause. “That I was never supposed to see, apparently. Which, by the way, is rude. Who writes something that romantic and just plans to obliterate it to ash?”

You sank deeper into your cocoon of embarrassment.

Then—fwip.

He grabbed the edge of the duvet.

“Sebastian—no—don’t you dare—”

Too late.

He peeled the covers back in one swift, dramatic flourish, like he was unveiling a piece of art. Your face was flushed to hell, hair sticking up slightly, eyes wide and full of horror. You looked like a startled cat.

He grinned. “There she is.”

You immediately rolled away, yanking a pillow to cover your face. “Get. Out.”

“I will, eventually,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed like he belonged there. “After you come out and face me like a brave girl.”

“I’m not brave. I’m dying.”

“Dramatic,” he chuckled. “Tragic heroine. Very on brand for you.

The pillow smashed harder against your face.

He spoke, softly, “…it was really beautiful. The letter.”

You peaked one eye out, expression wary. Suspicious.

He took that as an opening. Gently, he pulled the pillow away, and worse, worse, reached up and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, fingertips warm and feather-light against your skin.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Oh no.

“Hi,” you whispered back.

A moment.

“You know I love you too.”

A statement. Not a question. Before you could even fully absorb the admission, he was speaking again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Surely, you stopped breathing.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was not that.

His eyes searched yours, open, vulnerable, and eager. He needed you to say yes, because he didn’t know if he’d survive if you said no.

You would be a complete fool to ruin this moment.

“Yes,” you answered.

That undid him completely.

He didn’t speak, just exhaled sharply as a mix of relief and desire collided inside of him. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over the line of your jaw while his gaze flicked down to your lips. His breathing was coming in uneven spurts.

Finally, his lips found yours.  

It was slow at first, like he didn’t quite believe it was real, that he was kissing the girl he’d been so unbelievably in love with for the last two years.

It deepened in an instant. You made a sound in your throat, helpless and airy that lit something hot inside Sebastian.

His fingers slide into your hair, tilting your head as he kissed you like he’d been craving to. Your hands fisted into his shirt, pulling him closer until you bodies met in a soft thump as you tumbled back onto the bed together.

Side by side. Entangled. Still kissing like the world might end if you stopped.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Sebastian rasped against your lips. His mouth trailed down to your neck. “I’m sorry if I’m—fuck—if I’m moving too fast. I just can’t stop…”

His lips pressed a soft kiss to a sweet spot, causing you to let out a sigh.

“Don’t” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned low and rough, the sound activating butterflies in your stomach. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he rolled on top, pressing his body flush to yours. A gasp fell from your mouth at the heat of him pressing against you.

“Merlin,” he rasped. “You feel that?”

Oh, you did.

He was hard. Incredibly hard. Heavy against your thigh in a way that made you clench around nothing. You’d imagined this after hours, basked in only dim candlelight, hand between your thighs.

Imagination had nothing on the real thing.

“Yes,” you practically begged, dazed. “Seb...yes.”

He kissed you again, slower, tasting the one thing he thought he’d never get as his hips rolled instinctively. His hands wandered, reverent, exploring you like you were a spell he wanted to master. His lips dipped lower, trailing to your collarbone.

You arched into him with a broken whimper.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, barely audible.

You smiled. “Sebastian, for fuck’s sake,” you teased. “I want you.”

His chocolate eyes darkened, playfulness bleeding into desire.

 “Say it again.”

“I want you.”

His mouth was on yours again—hungrier now, desperate in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. It tasted like years of restraint finally unraveling, all soft gasps and tangled fingers, as your bodies moved in perfect clumsy rhythm.

Clothes melted away between kisses and whispered I love you’s, scattered like leaves in the fall. He paused when he reached behind you, unclipping the small clasp and letting your bra come undone in his hands. The straps slid down your arms like silk and he had to take a moment to sit back on his heels, eyes roaming over your bare chest.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, one hand sliding down your thigh with shaking fingers. “You’re gorgeous.”

His hand found the edge of your underwear, and you let out a moan when his fingers brushed your inner thigh. He froze, breath catching in his throat like the moment had stolen the air from him.

“Bloody hell…” he murmured, voice wrecked. His finger gilded higher, just barely grazing over the soaked fabric clinging to you. A low sound rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re so wet.”

Your hips tilted towards him without thought, your blush deepening.

“I can’t help it,” you replied. “It’s you.”

His forehead pressed to yours, eyes closing as he tried to keep control.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted. “All the fucking time. What you’d sound like. How you’d feel under me…” he paused to open his eyes. “Around me.”

You whimpered at the last part, thighs trembling as slick pooled between your legs. He was going to be the end of you.

Sebastian did not waste another second. He pushed your panties aside and finally touched you.

His fingers were warm and sure, the pad of one brushing over your clit with delicate precision, and you let out the softest, sweetest cry.

“Gods,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick, coating them, “You’re drenched, love. Absolutely soaked for me.”

“For you,” you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, nails leaving tiny crescents into the muscle. “Please…”

He didn’t make you beg twice. He started to rub slow, steady circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out sounds you didn’t know you could make.

Then he pushed a finger inside.

“Oh—!”

He paused only to check your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. When all he found was satisfaction plastering your expression, he added a second finger, curling them expertly until he found that spongy spot that made you whine.

He worked you gently, lovingly, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from you until you were shaking beneath him. He was panting watching you, his arousal painfully obvious through his boxers.

Sebastian needed to be inside you.

His fingers slipped out, and he kissed the whine from your lips. He tugged down the thin fabric of his boxers, tossing them aside. He sprung free, all of him.

You gulped. He was big, throbbing and leaking at the tip from how badly he needed you.

You pulled your panties the rest of the way down, chest rising and falling rapidly.

For a fragile second, panic fluttered in your stomach.  

He noticed. Of course he did. He always did.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as he reached for your cheek, thumb brushing the skin. “It’s okay. We don’t have to—”  

“No,” you interrupted quickly.  “I-I want to. I’m just… nervous. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He smiled, warm, and pecked the tip of your nose.

 “It’s okay,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you.”

He shifted, body slotting perfectly between your thighs. His hand guided himself to your entrance and he leaned down, lips pressing gently along your temple, down your jaw, over the shell of your ear.

 “You’re going to take me so well.”

His tip nudged against you—teasing—and then he pushed in, sliding in easily.

A cry left your lips at the sensation, new and intense. He moved slowly, watching your face with care, giving you time. Your hands clawed at his back, leaving tiny half-moons he’d treasure later.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, mouth parted in stunned bliss, “you feel so perfect. So fucking perfect.”

His hips stilled as he bottomed out, letting you breathe. He kissed your shoulder, trying to prove just how precious you were to him.

“Please, Seb,” you said breathless, biting your lip.

He pulled out nearly all the way, then slid back in, deep and unhurried. Your body welcomed him, desperately. You moaned at everything he gave you, and he swallowed the sounds, rolling his hips deeper each time.

You both laughed through one misaligned kiss, still panting through another wave of pleasure.

It was slow. Beautiful.

Two souls, finally connecting in the way they had been yearning to.

And fuck did it feel like heaven.

“Sebastian,” you gasped, voice cracking as he hit a spot that made your toes curl.

He groaned your name in return, thrusts turning a little messy.

“I’m not going to last,” he confessed. “Not after wanting you for so fucking long.”

You cupped his face, pulling him close. “I’m right there.”

That shattered him.

He thrust harder, hips stuttering as your walls clenched around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, trembling, stars blooming behind his eyes.

He spilled into you with a strangled groan, hips grinding to prolong the pleasure as you moaned beneath him, your own orgasm ripping through you.

Sebastian collapsed over you, heart hammering, your legs still wrapped tight around his waist. For a long moment, neither of you spoke—just clung to each other, panting, kissing lazily, mouths brushing as you caught your breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “That I didn’t last.”

You smiled, dazed and thoroughly wrecked, tracing your fingers through the sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck. “You were perfect.”

His laugh was breathless, and completely in love. He kissed you again gently, because he could.

“I owe you a love letter now.”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

so glad to see you’ve been doing well!! SO SO SO excited for the return of the lando series ive missed it dearly

(6) Day Off - Lando Norris

<word count - 7221>

Things were finally back to normal, and Lando didn’t feel like anything could stop him. Even if you weren’t together in school at all, he didn’t care in the slightest. His routine was now: get home from school, have a quick shower, really quickly eat tea with his family and go upstairs to phone you. 

He did that every single day, without fail. You always teased him about it, often remarking that it was like he couldn’t relax if he didn’t hear your voice. He hated to admit that you were right, but he always just laughed it off and said ‘you wish’. 

Things at school had also been cooling off. No one had said anything to Lando about you, and no one had said anything to you about Lando. You and Lilly still hated each other with a burning passion, but she had stopped with the snide remarks. You still received your fair share of dirty looks, however. 

After a lot of begging, you had let Lando sit back next to you in maths again. Miss Kennedy was surprised, and was waiting for Lando to be sent to the back row again with a sulk, but the day never came.

Today was a Wednesday, and you were waiting at your desk for Lando’s phone call. You kept replaying your little scene in the milk aisle, and your heart always warmed at the thought of Lando’s arms around you.

You didn’t feel like you deserved for him to have taken you back so quickly and on multiple occasions, but you wouldn't complain in the slightest. Now that you had him, you were keeping him around for the long haul.

You had started to make work on your maths homework, getting a few questions done before your phone buzzed on your desk. “Hey,” you greeted, picking up the call and placing your phone back down on the wood top of your desk.

“Heya, I swear if you’re doing homework I am coming to your house and forcing you to have a break.” he replied, knowing that you were doing homework every time he spoke to you over the phone.

“One of us has to maintain our perfect reputation, Lando.” you mused, and you could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“You’re perfect all the damn time, can’t you let loose and have some fun just this once?” he whined, but he knew that you wouldn’t listen to his pleas. Not even Lando could stop you from doing the homework that you needed to do as soon as you could get it done.

“Oh yeah? And what are you doing right now, Norris?” you asked.

“As a matter of fact, my dad has just let me know that he has glued together your flashcard holder and it is drying in the garage,” he smugly explained, and you couldn’t suppress the smile that grew on your face as he spoke. 

Since you had made up, Lando had taken it upon himself to finish your flashcard holder that you had tried to make in that fateful DT lesson. At the thought of it, your fingers on your left hand flexed, the skin that made up the scars across the digits still taut. 

You had tried to protest to Lando that he didn’t have to finish it and that you were perfectly capable, but he had put his foot down and shown how stubborn he could be. Lando brought all of the pieces home that he had painted, and he and his dad had put on all the bells and whistles. 

There was a closing lid with a clasp, 11 perfectly sized dividers, a drawer at the base where you could store a few pens and pencils, plus a couple other bits and bobs that the duo had come up with. Lando had been bigging it up for the few days that he had been working on it, and you trusted him fully.

“Your dad is busy, Lando. I don’t want him to feel like he has to make it for me…” you trailed off, thinking about all of the work that they were doing for you while you just got a good grade and a useful product. 

“He doesn’t have to. He does it because I ask him to and we do it together. And I do it because I want to do it for you and I know that you’re absolutely hopeless in the workshop. I am never letting you near a saw again if I’m not watching,” he sternly said, and he couldn’t hide the hint of protectiveness that had crept into his voice. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, your statement instantly met with a scoff from Lando. 

“Wasn’t that bad? You nearly chopped your fingers off and you gave me a heart attack!” he exclaimed, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at him. 

“God, you’re dramatic,” you laughed. 

“Dramatic? I’m dramatic?! Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s being dramatic when I nearly chop my fingers and you have to drag my ass over to the nurse’s office and you’re terrified that I’m going to pass out and hurt myself even more and that you won’t be able to catch me in time and- you get the point.” he cut off his ramble, not wanting to reveal the true depths of the fears he had when you had sliced your fingers. 

In his head, all the way to the nurse’s office, he was planning what he would do if you did pass out. He’d have to catch you so you wouldn’t hit your head, and he’d probably have to lie you down on the floor and go find a teacher. 

But, he wouldn’t want to leave you alone just in case you woke up and he wasn’t back to comfort you, so he assessed where the nearest staff personnel was as you walked through each corridor. He was also perfectly prepared to take his blazer off and use it as a pillow for you if it came to it.

Lando did tend to be observant, but he was scrutinising your every move on the short work to the medical room. He had never seen someone he cared about so much be in so much pain, and it scared him. 

All he wanted was to hold you close and wrap you in bubble wrap so that there was nothing that could hurt you ever again. It hurt just as much when he had to leave you by yourself with the nurse. He remembered what the fresh cuts on your fingers looked like, and he hadn’t had a chance to look at the scars that the incident had left on your hand.  

“Yeah, I guess it was pretty scary, hey?” you acquiesced, not wanting him to think about it anymore. 

“You’re damn right it was.” he agreed, calming down from his little outburst. The two of you talked for the rest of the night, as you always did, and Lando found it especially funny when your mum had come into the room and told you that it was time to go to bed and you had to hang up. 

He’d get to talk to you tomorrow, so he wasn’t overly concerned about saying goodbye for now. Yet, as the next day rolled around, Lando couldn’t spot you in the school halls. You weren’t by your locker in the morning, you weren’t in the library at your breaks or lunch, you weren’t in maths with him at the end of the day. 

You just weren’t there. 

You were never not there, never. You always showed up to school on time and he had never known you to take a day off, even before you had started talking. He had sent you a few texts, asking where you were and if you were alright, but he hadn’t received a response. 

Just as he got in his mum’s car, his phone pinged with a text. All he could do is hope that it was you, and his prayers were answered. You had responded and said that you had thrown up the night before and thought it would be best to rest for the day since you still weren’t feeling very well.

Lando’s first instinct was to ask if you needed anything, but there was another burning question at the forefront of his mind. He asked if there was anyone taking care of you for the day, since he knew your parents were gone for work early and back pretty late. From his knowledge, they would only be back at around seven, which was nearly four hours away from the current time. 

Your grandma had been over for a bit at lunchtime to make you food and ensure that you were resting, but that wasn’t enough to pacify Lando. Someone had been taking care of you for an hour, two hours max, and you had been left to deal with your own illness all day without someone to help you.

Without thinking, Lando offered to come over for a few hours. He just wanted to comfort you in your time of need, as any good friend would do. Naturally. 

You weren’t keen on accepting the offer, since you didn’t want to give him whatever bug or virus you had contracted. The thought of having Lando over was intriguing, though. It would be nice to laugh with him, or have him sit with you while you watched TV…

And that was the exact reason you finally sent through the text to tell him that he was allowed to come over to yours. Lando was stunned when he saw you approve of his request. He was actually going to get to spend some time with you. Real, quality time without anyone else there.

Initially, his mum was not happy with the idea at all. It was expected, since letting a teenage boy go over to the house of the girl he likes all by himself with no parental supervision was traditionally a recipe for disaster. Hormones were running rampant, and it wasn’t far-fetched to assume what might happen. 

His dad had had the same thought, trying to convince Lando to take the condoms that he got from sex ed class with him while his mum wasn’t listening. It was safe to say that he had never been more mortified at anything his dad had ever said to him. 

He wouldn’t do that with you, not yet anyway. Had he thought about it? That was a completely different story, but that was a topic for a whole different day nonetheless, and he certainly didn’t think about that right now. It would have caused a whole world of problems. 

But, after plenty of begging and promising to be on his best behaviour, Lando’s mum relented. She said she needed to see you first to check that you were actually sick and not just using it as an excuse for him to come over, but she trusted the two of you.

Lando had also texted through to tell you not to make yourself dinner, since Lando’s mum had made extra food for him to bring over for you. A hearty beef stew, just what a sick person would need to warm their soul.

Him and his mum left their house as soon as he had gotten changed, and she had finished boxing up the stew that had been slow cooking all day. They also made a snack stop off on the way, Lando picking out some of your favourite chocolates and sweets that he knew you liked. 

On the more practical side of things, his mum forced him to take with him a box of paracetamols, ibuprofen and anti-nausea tablets. He was sure that you would already have those in the house, but she was right when she said it was the thought that counts. 

With his snacks and medicine stashed in his backpack, Lando got out of the car and walked up the path to our front door. His mum was watching with her eagle eyes from the car, ready to suss out a lie from a mile away.

As you opened the door, it was very clear that you were telling the truth. You were sick. You were wrapped in the biggest hoodie she thought she had ever seen, your face white as a ghost. Your eyes appeared a bit puffy from a distance, and it looked like you were holding tissues in your hand with one arm crossed over your stomach.

She was happy that you wouldn’t be up for anything with Lando anyway, even if it was meant to be that type of meeting, so she put the car into drive and headed home. 

Lando stood in front of the door for a second. He just let himself drink in the sight of you, clearly sick and uncomfortable. Somehow, though, you were still gorgeous as ever to him. You being ill hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. If anything, he wanted to be near you more so that he could take care of you like he knew you deserved.

“Come on in. Sorry, the place isn’t very tidy, I would’ve cleaned but I couldn’t really be arsed.” you said, standing aside to let him through the door. Even when you were sick, you still had that sass that he found so endearing. Your voice was deeper, more gravelly from throwing up. It wasn’t bad sounding, not by any means. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t care about that. I just care how you’re doing.” he softly smiled, following you through to the living room. Instantly, he spotted your safe haven for the day. In the corner of the L-shaped settee, pillows were expertly set up for you to be as comfortable as possible, as well as a blanket tossed to the side that probably ended up there when you had gotten up to answer the door.

You sat back down in your spot, Lando sitting next to you. He didn’t sit too close, not wanting to seem overbearing. Even if he knew that you would fit perfectly if you were snuggled into his side. 

“Do you want food now or would you rather wait a bit?” he asked, watching your reactions closely. He knew that you probably weren’t in the mood for eating right now, since there was no doubt that you were feeling nauseous. 

“Whenever you want is good, I don’t really mind,” you said, glad that Lando was going to make food for you. Cooking was not at the top of your list of activities you wanted to do.

“I also brought snacks, but I’m not sure if you really want those,” he chuckled, glancing over at his bag where your favourite chocolate was. “Do you want me to get you anything? A drink, another blanket, medicine for anything?” he offered, ready to spring into action if you needed anything.

“Just water, please. The glasses are in the kitchen to the top left of the sink. And you can get whatever you want out of the fridge or anything, you’ve got free reign.” you told him, and Lando was straight off the couch and straight into the kitchen.

He did as you asked, getting two glasses out of the aforementioned cupboard and filling them with tap water. “Do you want ice?” Lando called to you, earning a hoarse ‘yes please’ as a reply. You thought it would do good for your sore throat.

He found the ice in a drawer in the freezer, popping a few cubes into each glass with a plink. “Here,” he smiled, handing you the glass. You gave him a small smile as a thank you. Lando sat back down on the couch beside you, fully content with the silence that had settled between you. 

He couldn’t stand how pale you looked, how much he wanted to make you feel better. He felt completely useless. All he could do was sit there and try to help you to the best of his ability, but his attempts felt futile. “Are you sure there’s nothing-” Lando started, but was cut off when you rested your head on his shoulder. 

You didn’t know what had come over you, but you needed the comfort and his shoulder was the perfect height for your neck to be comfortable. You also didn’t stop yourself from snuggling into his side. He was warm, and he was a very good thing to cuddle up to, in your opinion. 

After a few moments, Lando felt less frigid with you. He was tense to start off with, the sudden affectionate gesture throwing him off guard somewhat. But, he quickly settled into it. He relaxed more, and he even let himself sling a comfortable arm over your shoulder. 

“Are you too warm?” Lando quietly asked, bringing a hand up to your forehead as he felt the heat of your body through your clothes. You were hotter than you usually would have been, but you didn’t have a high fever.

“Just a little, but it’ll go,” you told him, making no effort to move from the position you were in. You were extremely comfortable with your makeshift human pillow. Both of you sat there for  a while, and Lando could feel himself getting hungry.

He didn’t want to push you to have dinner, since he didn’t want to move you away from his side. This had been all he had wanted with you for ages, even if he was sure that it was just in a completely platonic, friendly way. 

“Hungry?” you broke the silence after hearing his stomach rumble. If you were looking at him, you would have seen the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Yeah, but we can eat whenever you want to,” he reassured, not wanting to rush you. He would do everything on your terms, since you were the sick one and you were the one he was meant to be taking care of.

“No, dinner sounds good right about now. What did you say your mum made?” you asked, resting your chin on his shoulder so that you could look at him properly. He turned to look at you, and he was barely centimetres away from you. 

He could notice every freckle on your skin, every last rivet on your face, each tiny speck of colour in your eyes. He just wanted to lean in and steal a kiss, but he knew he’d be pushing his luck. But damn did he want to try.

“Beef stew. She also made dumplings but you don’t have to have those if you don’t want,” he told you.

“But the dumplings are the best bit,” you chuckled, getting up and starting to walk to the kitchen.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, getting up as well and approaching you. In his eyes, you were a fragile china doll who he just wanted to love and swaddle and protect. He already missed the warmth of you by his side, but he was sure he’d be back, cuddling up with you. 

“I was going to do the food?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, you’re not doing the food. I will. Go sit,” he said. You couldn’t even protest when he put a hand on the small of your back and gently pushed you back towards the couch. “Please, I’m here to help you, not make you do all the work yourself. That’s not fair. And, the food is in my bag so you won’t know where it is,” he told you, and you collapsed back into the cushions.

Lando smiled to himself, going to his backpack and producing the two containers of stew that he had packed. “Where are the plates?” he called to you as he popped them both in the microwave to warm up.

“Cupboard to the left of the fridge,” you shouted back. Well, it wasn’t really a shout. It was an attempt at one, the soreness of your throat not helping with your projection. 

Lando found the plates, scooping out the stew and dumplings out in even proportions. He wasn’t wanting to overface you, but he also didn’t want to give you a tiny amount that it seemed patronising.

He found the knives and forks himself, placing them on the plates and carrying them through. “Are we eating on the couch or do we have to eat at the table?” he asked.

“Normally we’d have to eat at the table, but I really don’t want to. As long as we don’t spill, it’s fine,” you said, shuffling closer to the arm of the chair so that you could balance your plate on it. 

“OK,” he nodded, putting your plate down next to you as he sat beside you, pulling the coffee table closer so that he could put his plate on there. “Eat whatever you want, I get that you’re probably not hungry,” he reassured, not wanting you to feel any pressure.

“Thank you, tell your mum that it’s absolutely delicious,” you said after scooping a forkful of stew and dumplings into your mouth. It was exactly what your body needed. Simple on the flavour, but warming to the soul. 

“It’s a favourite of mine,” he smiled, glad you like his mum’s cooking. It was nice to be able to share one of his favourite family dishes with you, especially in a setting so precious as your own home. 

The two of you ate in relative silence apart from a few passing comments as the time went by. You had the TV on quietly in the background, but neither of you were really watching it. Lando leant back on the couch when he was done, his plate fully cleared.

You, on the other hand, had left about a quarter of your food. Lando didn’t take it to heart, since he was sure that nausea wasn’t making eating the most pleasant experience for you. He watched as you put your knife and fork to the side fully before assuming you were finished.

“Again, tell your mum that that is absolutely delicious. I would have finished it on a normal day,” you smiled, and he appreciated the consolation that you would’ve eaten it. 

“I’ll go and do the dishes,” he said, picking up both of your plates. If only his mum could see him now. Doing the dishes. He never offered to do the dishes at home, him and his siblings working on a rota throughout the week. So to see him doing it voluntarily, she would have been proud of him. 

“You can just put them in the dishwasher. Under the microwave,” you told him, and he found the larger drawer and opened the dishwasher. He slotted the plates in, before closing the machine back up and going back to sit with you. 

“Do you want dessert or would you rather give it a miss?” he asked, bringing his backpack over to where he was sitting with you and rooting through the crinkly packets of sweets and bars of chocolate. He dumped them all out on the table, and you couldn’t help but smile. He had brought all of your favourites.

“Ugh, I wish I could but I really don’t think it would be the most sensible idea for my stomach…” you said, feeling bad that you wouldn’t even be able to eat the stuff he had brought for you, and so thoughtfully as well.

“It’s OK, I’ll leave them here and you can have them when you’re feeling better,” he said, slinging an arm back around your shoulders. He was glad to have made the first move this time, and you snuggled into his side yet again. 

He had never been so comfortable with someone, never been so content. This was what he thought a relationship was meant to be. A real relationship. Cuddles, conversations and taking care of each other. 

Lando pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over your shoulders, making sure you were tucked in and cozy. Without thinking, like many things he did when he was around you, he planted a quick but soft kiss on the top of your head. He hoped you hadn’t noticed, but the way you tensed in his arms told him the opposite.

“Tell me if you get too warm, OK?” he mumbled, trying to distract from the sudden gesture of affection. In truth, he wanted to do it again. 

“I will,” you confirmed, relaxing in his embrace again. Your mind was racing though. Lando. Kissed you. Lando had just kissed you. You’d wanted him for so long and then he had just kissed you. Yes, it was only on the top of your head, but it was a kiss nonetheless. 

Both of you tried to focus on the TV rather than the storm of feelings that was swirling inside the both of you, unsure of what to do next. Ignoring it seemed like the least awkward, but tackling it head on seemed like the mature option. And, it would probably have a better outcome.

But, you felt the feeling of nausea creeping up on you. The one that had become awfully familiar over the last couple of days. Lando felt you tense up again, unsure of what was wrong. Before he had the chance to ask, however, you were on your feet and striding towards the bathroom. 

As he heard you start to wretch, it felt like his heart was breaking. He couldn’t stop himself as he followed you in, kneeling down your hunched over form. “It���s OK, you’re OK, let it all out…” he soothed, reiterating the words that his mum used to say to him when he was sick. 

His hand found a place on your back, rubbing up and down to try and offer some comfort, and trying to show that he was there for you. “I’m sorry, this is really gross,” you said, feeling unbelievably embarrassed that Lando was having to see you puke your guts out with his own beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not phased. I’ve got younger siblings, I’m used to a hell of a lot worse,” he joked, not wanting you to feel ashamed that you were sick. If anything, he was glad that you were throwing up when he was around so that you had someone to comfort you.

Lando noticed how you kept tucking your hair behind your ears and how it kept slipping back in front of your face, so he held it all back with his free hand that wasn’t rubbing circles on your back. “You’ll feel so much better in a few minutes,” he consoled.

“I promise it’s not your mum’s cooking,” you mumbled, not wanting him to feel like you didn’t like it. 

“I know, it’s OK. You’re sick, this is bound to happen,” he chuckled, letting go of your hair as you sat back against the tiled wall of the bathroom. 

You looked even more pale, and you looked tired. “Do you want a water? Cold compress?” he asked. 

“Water, please,” you hoarsely said, your throat scratchy from throwing up. Lando retrieved your glass off the coffee table, filling it up in the kitchen and dropping in some ice cubes. “Here,” he said, handing the glass to you and making sure you had a proper grasp of it before he let go. 

As you drank, he picked up a wash cloth off the counter and wet it with lukewarm water. Lando knelt down in front of you, tilting your chin up with his finger. He gently cleaned around your mouth, before letting your head drop back down. 

There was something so intimate about the moment, about letting him take care of you. You were glad that he was so comfortable with being close to you, with touching you and helping you. It was also a miracle that he actually knew what to do. 

Lando remembered from all the times his mum looked after him when he was sick, or when he had to look after his siblings. It was different with you, though. It was better with you. “I think you should go to bed,” he said, offering a hand out to help you up from your spot on the floor. 

“No, no. The couch is good,” you dismissed, not wanting to be sat in bed while Lando was just chilling in the house. 

“Please? You really need more comfortable rest. Plus, you’ve been on the couch all day and a change of scenery would be good for you,” he pushed, eager to get you more settled in bed. “I don’t have to come in with you if you don’t want, I just want you to be more comfortable,” he added, suddenly conscious of the fact that you might not want him in your bedroom with you.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind you being in there. As long as you’re not in there by the time my parents get home, we’re all good.” you sighed, taking his hand and hauling yourself up onto your feet. Lando stood close to you, ready to assist if you felt wobbly on your feet or if you needed to be sick again.

You lead him through to your room, and he couldn’t help but look around. In many ways, it was just what he expected to see for your room. A desk pressed up against the wall with a cork board hanging overhead. It had revision lists, to do lists, and even a few photos with your nearest and dearest friends. He was surprised to see a photo of you and him up there, one that he had sneakily taken in the library when the librarian wasn’t looking.

This was during the time that you spent revising together, or doing homework, or just messing around. You were buried in your work, and it looked like maths homework while he looked at it. Half of the picture was occupied by Lando pulling a silly face into the camera. 

He remembered that it was one of the first things he had ever sent you after he had finally gotten your number, but he didn’t think you’d go to the effort of getting it printed and putting it up on your board. “You’ve put that picture up, huh?” he asked, looking at the other pictures there. 

Most of them were with people he didn’t know, the odd few with people he had seen around school. The others, he assumed, were of you and your family at birthday parties and get together. His eyes were more drawn to a picture of you and another boy. You had your arms around each other, goofy smiles plastered on your faces.

He didn’t know why he felt a pang of jealousy ripple through him, but he didn’t like the thought of another guy with his hands on you. Or having a space on your cork board. “Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the boy in the image.

“That’s my cousin,” you said with a small smirk. You could tell he was envious of the boy, and you saw his shoulders sag in relief when he heard that there wasn’t any competition for you. Well, there wasn’t any competition. He had been declared the winner a long time ago, he just hadn’t realised yet. Not realised completely, anyway. 

“Ah, cousin, right…” he said, feeling like a complete and utter idiot. Of course it was your cousin, he’d know if there was another guy in your life. 

You crawled into bed, pulling back the covers to shuffle under. Lando watched as you propped up the pillows to your liking, and all he wanted to do was get in there with you and hold you until you fell asleep. “Would you like anything?” he asked, trying to distract from his jealousy. 

“Another water, please,” you said, and Lando was right on the case. You were so glad to have invited Lando over today, since it really was your saving grace. He was brilliant at taking care of you, and it seemed like he genuinely wanted to.

Plus, the little moments that you shared along the way were like golden nuggets along a path. You loved them. From leaning into his side and snuggling him, to when he kissed you on the head, all the moments with him were perfect. You still weren’t over the fact that he had kissed you, but there were zero complaints coming from you. 

“There you go,” he smiled, walking bag in and placing the glass of water down on your nightstand with a clink of the ice. He took in your cozy form, all snuggled up in that blue hoodie and- wait.

That was his hoodie. He had lent it to you a couple days ago when his mum had picked you up like she did a couple times a week. And now, you were wearing it when you were sick and were in need of comfort. 

“My hoodie, eh?” he said with a teasing tone to his voice. He was glad you were in it, and he didn’t want you in anything that wasn’t his hoodie at this point. The sudden possessiveness wasn’t unwelcomed completely, but it was out of nowhere for the most part. 

“Yeah, it’s really comfy and warm. But I’ll get it washed and back to you,” you said, snuggling down into the covers even more. 

“You don’t have to give it back, keep it. Looks better on you than it does on me,” he smiled, liking the idea of you always having one of his hoodies on standby. It was one of the most classic cliches in the book, and now you two were living it out. 

“Really? I don’t mind giving it back,” you dismissed, enjoying the idea of keeping the hoodie, but also feeling bad that he was just giving to you, seemingly without much thought.

“No, no. Seriously, it’s all yours,” Lando reassured, still standing by the bed. His stance was slightly awkward as he fiddled with his fingers, since he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He could take a risk and get in the other side with you, but he didn’t want to push it since he was already in your bedroom to begin with. 

He could pull up your desk chair to sit beside the bed, but then he also ran the risk of invading your space if you wanted to nap without him just sitting there and watching you. 

“Do you want to sit?” you asked, answering his question for him as you patted the empty space beside you on the bed. Lando felt like his heart was in his throat as he rounded the bed without thinking. His legs just carried him before his brain had time to protest. 

Lando sat against the headboard beside you, not wanting to get under the covers with you. Well, he did want to, but that definitely felt like he would be pushing it. You turned over to look at him, lying on your side as you looked up at him. 

God, how he just wanted to run his fingers through your hair and hold you until you fell asleep in his arms. Your cheeks were still flushed and your nose was slightly red, but it just made you even more adorable in his eyes. 

“You should really get some rest,” he softly said, wanting you to get better. At the same time, he knew he’d have to leave if you fell asleep. Your parents would be getting home within the hour, and he didn’t want to be found in your room while you were asleep.

He was expecting you to protest, but he was sure you still weren’t feeling well after being sick and dealing with the trials and tribulations of your illness. All you did was nod, shifting a little to get comfortable before closing your eyes.

“Thank you for today, Lando. I really needed it.” you mumbled, keeping your eyes closed. 

“Anytime,” he replied, glad that you had appreciated his efforts. He knew you would, but to be thanked was nice regardless. 

“I would let you stay, but I don’t know how my parents would react to me having a boy in my room. You’re welcome to stay for now though, they should be getting home in about 45 minutes,” you told him, and he had made the split second decision to stay for around half an hour. 

“That’s OK, I don’t want you getting in trouble,” he said. It was nice knowing that you wanted him to stay, but he understood what might have been assumed if he stayed and if your parents had caught him there. 

You didn’t respond, just letting your sick and weary body rest. Your breathing evened out, your chest rising and falling as you slept. Lando pulled his phone out of his pocket to text his mum, and she replied in due time to say that she would be there to pick him up in half an hour. That would give him a bit more time with you, but he would be gone with plenty of time before your parents returned home.

You just looked so peaceful, your illness not giving you any hassle as you were protected by your slumber. He wanted to take a picture to keep it forever, but he just had to be content with a mental snapshot for now. 

All he did was watch you sleep for the next twenty minutes, before he had to prepare himself to go. He didn’t want to leave your side in case you threw up again, or in case you needed him, but he had to. 

Lando collected the tupperware that he had brought the stew in and put it back in his bag, also making sure that no traces of his presence were left behind. Then, he let himself sit with you for a little bit longer. 

He had to keep checking his phone every few minutes, before the text that he was dreading came through. His mum was here and he had to leave you behind. Sure, your parents would be home soon and you’d have someone to look after you, but he preferred to do it himself. 

He left the sweets and chocolates that he had brought on your desk. Also, he tore a piece of paper out of one of your notebooks and wrote you a short note. He left it on top of the snacks, before standing in the doorway to your room and looking back at your sleeping form. 

Lando allowed himself to walk back over to your side, leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Get better soon, I miss you.” he whispered, thinking back to how dull his day was without even seeing you in the halls. 

He couldn’t stop himself, there was just something about the feeling of your skin under his lips that he was getting a little obsessed with, and he definitely needed to rein it in before it got out of hand and he did something that took it too far. 

Then he had to go. He had to focus on walking down the stairs and out of the house so that his self control wouldn’t slip and so that he wouldn’t end up back in your room and back in your bed, where he knew he could keep you safe.

His mum was waiting outside, smiling as he got in the car. “How was she, sweetheart?” she asked, also being concerned about your wellbeing ever since Lando had told her about your current condition. 

“She isn’t feeling great. She was sick after dinner, and she just looked overall… flat.” he said, unsure on how to describe the state that you were in. 

“Bless her, that’s not good. Do you think she enjoyed the company?” she asked, pulling away from the curb and starting the drive home.

“I think she did, yeah,” he kept his answer short, not wanting to divulge into the fact that the two of you were practically snuggling on the couch and that he was suddenly so comfortable with kissing you on the head whenever he felt like it. “I might go back over tomorrow, she definitely won’t be in school tomorrow.” he said, hoping that you would be on board with the idea as well. 

“I think she’d appreciate that,” his mum agreed, smirking internally. It was obvious how smitten Lando was, but it was also absolutely adorable. His desire to take care of you was obvious, and  she was happy to encourage it as much as she could. He really was growing up into a fine young man. 

— 

As Lando predicted, you weren’t in school the next day. He was sneaking off to the bathroom to text you constantly throughout the duration of the school day, and he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. 

You told him how you were doing a little better and how you were able to eat the snacks he had left behind. It was good for him to know that he was providing you comfort, even when he wasn’t by your side. 

He still missed not seeing you around, though. It wasn’t the same without those stolen glances from across the corridor, or sitting with you during maths. He was longing for you, and he wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that that was the case. 

And finally, the next day rolled around and he was ready to endure another day without you. That was, until, he walked into maths and nearly stopped in his tracks. There you were, sitting in your seat with your books out in front of you. 

“You’re back…” he said in the otherwise empty classroom, Mrs Kennedy smirking to herself as she saw his reaction to your return. She was confident that Lando was absolutely besotted by you, and this only confirmed her suspicions. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to miss much more,” you nodded, and he came to sit down beside you. Lando’s eyes scanned you up and down as if he were checking you over. He wanted to make sure your illness was fully gone, and he wasn’t opposed to trying to get you sent home if you weren’t feeling well. 

You looked a lot better than you had the other day, albeit still tired, but a lot better. The colour had returned to your cheeks and your eyes looked brighter. “Good, I was getting bored without you,” he smiled, his mind wandering back to the few hours he spent taking care of you.

How he longed to go back to that, to holding you and making sure you were alright. But, he had to focus on the fact that you were better. You were back, and you were better. That was what mattered. 

It didn’t take away from the fact that he wanted to be like that with you all the time, but he would take what he would get for now. The fear was that your vulnerability had only exacerbated his feelings for you, and he’d need to do something about it, and quickly. 

Lando was in too deep, and there was no turning back now. 

A/N - Here we are my loves, as promised! Thank you all so much for all of the excitement for the return of this series, it really means the world! Drop some ideas in my inbox for the next parts in this series, I wanna know where you guys want to see this story go! Love y'all💖

|masterlist|the full series|

[ccarisi]

sleepyhead

summary: Your stepdad finds you fast asleep after a stressful day of work. warnings: age gap, stepcest, smut, somno, dubcon/noncon, virginity loss, unprotected piv, creampie, brief oral, daddy kink duh, kid/kiddo, sonny has zero morals 2.3k words

a/n: ever since i got this ask i couldn't stop Thinking. rushed this in one day so i hope its decent enough happy fathers day sonny <33 only proofread this once so you get what you get dt: @johnnydubcek do you forgive me for going on vacation

—

Sonny wasn’t sure if it was possible to have a day worse than this. If dealing with Buchanan as opposing counsel wasn’t bad enough, Liv was on his case from start to finish. If she brought him a weak he can’t win that wasn’t his fault. It was one thing after another and the only thing on his mind was going home, cracking open a beer, and watching whatever game was on that night.

And you, of course.

If he’s being honest you were the main thing on his mind. Coming home to your smiling face was the only thing that got him through the day sometimes, knowing that at the end of the dark tunnel that was his workday you were always there waiting for him. He figures he would have gone insane a long time ago if it weren’t for you.

On my way home now. Have you ate? I can make us dinner.

Sonny shoots you a text as he makes his way out of the courthouse, heading in the direction of the apartment. Your mom was working late tonight and he wants to make the most of every second he has alone with you. He knows how much you love his cooking, you’ll pick eating at home with him over a fancy restaurant everytime.

You there? I can make your favorite.

You always reply as soon as you get his texts, but those three little typing dots never pop up. Staring down at his screen Sonny tries again.

Is your phone off? Be home soon. Love you.

It wasn’t like you to ignore his texts and Sonny’s spiralling is in full force before he has the chance to stop it. He always did jump to the worst conclusions, but in his line of work who could blame him? Realistically, you were either away from your phone or it was dead.

Sonny finds himself rushing home, he knows he won’t relax until he sees you. It was hard to think rationally when it came to you, call it fatherly love and then some.

Almost dropping his keys in the process Sonny quickly makes his way through the door, half haphazardly dropping his briefcase off to the side. He calls out your name to no answer and his heart gets caught in his throat. He thought he was being ridiculous thinking something had happened to you, was he actually right?

Sonny treads down the hallway towards your room, peeking his head through your half ajar door only to discover you fast asleep. You were always a heavy sleeper.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as his eyes fall over your sleeping form, curled up into yourself in one of his old worn shirts. Sometimes he swore that you had more of his shirts in your dresser than his own.

You were here, you were safe.

Sonny quietly makes his way into your room, shedding his jacket before neatly folding it and placing it off to the side. The bed dips as he sits on the edge and he freezes for a moment, hoping he didn’t wake you from such a peaceful and heavy sleep. You’ve been picking up more shifts at work lately, something about wanting to have your own money and not rely on him. Too bad he’ll always spoil you rotten.

Brushing some hair out of your face Sonny admires how peaceful you look fast asleep. Wrapped up in your blanket with flushed cheeks, your soft plump parted lips, and the way you’re clutching that same stuffed animal he bought you ten or so years ago.

He couldn’t name a more precious sight even if he tried.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh baby?” Sonny murmurs under his breath as he pets your hair. No matter how old you get you’ll always be his baby, he’ll make sure of that. “Think you’ve been workin’ too hard, poor thing.” He leans in and leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Your skin was warm and soft against his lips, causing heavy desire to flow through Sonny’s veins like a river. It’s been such a long day and well, you’ve been working hard too after all. Don’t you deserve some loving?

You’ve talked about this before, there’s been sessions between you that ended up a little too hot and heavy. It’s not that you didn’t want to do that with him, you did. But would you be able to face your mom everyday knowing the truth? There was that part of you that was scared to go all the way, too. You knew he was…well endowed. The thought made you nervous.

You met in the middle, you let Sonny go down on you and you promised that you’d go all the way when he finally leaves your mom. Whenever that is.

Maybe Sonny was appealing to his darker nature when he peels your blanket off to reveal the rest of your limp body. You’ll forgive him, he wasn’t worried about that.

As gently and slowly as he can he maneuvers you to lay on your back, sushing you when you mumble incoherently in your sleep. With a deep breath Sonny moves your underwear to the side and slides two fingers through your folds. He just needs to feel you, that’s all. Maybe watch you get off and he’ll feel better.

There you go. Sonny fights back a groan when he feels your growing wetness, body responding to his touches even in your deep slumber. His fingers move to your clit next, rubbing your sensitive bud in small firm circles. His eyes stay glued to your face, watching for every reaction he can pull out of you. You looked so sweet and innocent as you subconsciously let out a hum in pleasure.

He should stop here, but he won’t. He knows that much about himself. Slow and steady as not to wake you, Sonny slips your underwear down to your ankles and tosses them to the side. He waits for a reaction that never comes while you remain fast asleep.

He used to joke that you could sleep through anything. It was a real war to get you to wake up for school in the morning, all the kicking and screaming. He would hear your multiple alarms going off from down the hall and without fail he had to wake you himself every time.

Gently spreading your legs Sonny inhales sharply as he sees your pussy slick with need. He’s just giving you what you want, isn't he? The tip of his finger circles your leaking hole and it’s just so inviting. Without thinking twice Sonny slips a finger inside of you, letting out a strangled groan at the way your pussy grips his finger. His eyes move from the sight of his finger inside you up to your face, no indication that you’re aware of anything that’s happening.

Sonny slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, admiring the way that his finger glistens from your arousal. He slips the finger inside of his mouth and moans from the sweet taste you left behind. That was enough to throw the last bit of rational thinking he had left out the window completely.

Sonny carefully positions himself between your thighs, lips ghosting over your little aching pussy. Leaning down he presses his nose against you, inhaling deeply. “Oh christ, baby.”

Without a second thought Sonny licks a broad stripe through your folds, eyes falling shut from the taste. His hands find your hips as he softly kneads the warm soft flesh there. You’re so sweet, inside and out.

His lips find your clit as he sucks softly and you let out a whine as your toes curl. Sonny has his way with you, licking and sucking away as you remain in your peaceful slumber. You were his favorite taste, and he would spend hours between your thighs if you let him.

Sonny feels the strain on his back from his position, not being able to maneuver both of you comfortably. God, he was getting old. One of these days he’ll get you a new bed, this was the same twin sized frame he built you too long ago to count.

Sitting up with a grunt he rolls out his neck and stretches his back. He could leave you be, go finish himself off in his room and be done with this whole thing.

His hands move on their own as he lowers his zipper and fishes himself out. Before he knows it his hand is wrapped around his heavy cock as he gives himself a few pumps. He can’t help it when it comes to you. But how could he? His sweet little baby.

Just over the outside, he tells himself. That’s not technically going against your wishes, so no harm done. Sonny slides his cock through your wet cunt, coating himself in the slick he left behind. He watches the way his cock slides through your slippery folds and the way your slick sticks to his shaft. You were just so fucking tempting.

Maybe just the tip, that doesn’t count. It’s hard to resist when your tight little hole was close enough for him to slip into without a moment’s notice.

And that’s exactly what he does.

With a strained groan Sonny notches the blunt head of his cock inside of you and stills, stopping himself from pushing inside you any further. Just the tip. He pulls out only to find himself naturally pushing in more. You were so tight and wet around him and he was barely inside you, the sheer thought of what it’ll feel like to bury himself to a hilt inside you has him feral.

If this was wrong then why did your pussy stretch around him so naturally? Your body works to accommodate his length as he slowly sinks deeper and deeper inside of you. “Oh fuck, kiddo. That’s it, take Daddy’s cock.” Sonny sighs as his hips meet yours.

Sonny moves as slowly as he can manage, careful not to wake you if he can help it. It borders on painful to be this slow, there’s nothing more he wants than to pound into you mercilessly as you hold onto him for dear life.

Your pussy pulses and squeezes around him as he slowly pumps his cock in and out. “Doin’ s’good sweetie, jus’ lie there and take it.” Sonny’s body gently rocks against yours and you slowly find yourself coming to.

The first thing you notice is the dull pain between your thighs from the stretch of your stepdad’s cock inside you.

The second thing you notice is the wet sounds in the air of his hips meeting yours.

The third thing you notice is Sonny himself.

“Dad…?” You mumble as you try to sit up, movements groggy and slow from sleep. “Shh, sweetie. ‘S okay, jus’ go back to sleep.” Sonny tells you gently as he lays you back down on the bed, his larger body crushing yours.

Sonny can feel his inhibitions leaving now that you’re awake, no longer worried about possibly waking you. Now that you’re awake he could focus on your pleasure, eager to hear every moan and whimper he can pull out of you. “Wh– what are you–?” Your question is cut off by a particularly deep thrust that leaves you breathless.

“‘M not done, honey. Jus’ a little bit more, okay?” Sonny grunts as his thighs slap against yours, your pussy gushing around him unknowingly to you. Your sharp gasp fills the room as the tip of his cock hits your cervix, filling you in a way that was indescribable.

“Dad– S–slow down–” you plead with him, still not having adjusted to his size since waking up. “Oh I know, honey. Daddy’s sorry, sweetheart.” Sonny apologies as he continues using your poor abused cunt.

Two fingers rub firm circles over your sensitive swollen clit as you bury your face into his neck. “Oh there you go. Feels good huh, baby?” Sonny coos as you nod against him. Your pussy clenches around him as he grins, there was nothing he loved more than making his baby cum.

Your body shakes against him as he pulls your orgasm out of you, steady fingers never leaving your clit as he fucks you through it. Your walls clamp down around him and Sonny lets out a deep guttural groan from the way you soak his cock. “Fuck, that’s it baby. Cum all over Daddy’s cock. Such a perfect fuckin’ angel–”

Sonny pounds into you faster and harder than expected as he chases his own release. Sweat rolls down his back as you drool against his shoulder while you lie there and take it, just like he told you to. “Oh fuck, that’s good. So fuckin’ good.” He moans as his cock punches your cervix repeatedly.

Without warning Sonny’s back bows as he cums hard and deep inside you. “Fuck– take it baby– take all of it–” he growls in your ear as he fills you with his hot and sticky cum. You’re too out of it to realize he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck baby, ya really milked me dry, huh?” Sonny chuckles against your neck as he lazily fucks his cum inside of you. You wince from the feeling as you come down from your high, reality settling back in. “I thought I said…” you whine, not sure if you’re talking about the fact that he came inside you or that you had sex with him in the first place.

Sonny presses a chaste kiss against your lips before unceremoniously sliding out of you, his cum spilling out onto the sheets. He’ll do you a favor and wash your sheets for you, he’s not that cruel. Tucking himself back in Sonny gently pats your thigh.

“Alright, up. Ya slept through dinner.”

[taurasiluvr]

how you can help palestine

★ to the public, you and diana taurasi hated one another – you were the new, best young thing in the wnba and she was the seasoned vet – there was no other option. however, maybe that's not the whole story. ★ enemies w/ benefits ft. dt

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. strap-usage, slight degradation and fluff, mommy kink (nothing too crazy), aftercare. might turn into a series if enough people ask for it ;)

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

the final buzzer sounded, showing the end of a heated game between the phoenix mercury and the las vegas aces. the aces had come out strong and won, the crowd's roar echoed through the arena. the players were a mix of exhausted and exhilarated, their emotions raw and visible. you were standing with your teammates, and you couldn’t resist the chance to bother diana, the vet whose shadow you were often compared to.

as the players began to mingle and exchange the usual post-game pleasantries, you approached taurasi with a sly smile. "tough game, huh?" you say, your voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. the grin on your face was deliberately infuriating.

diana turned to face me, her eyes narrowing. she was still catching her breath, sweat trickling down her face, but her competitive spirit was undiminished. "yeah, well, you win some, you lose some," she replied coolly, but the irritation in her voice was unmistakable.

"guess you’re losing more than winning these days," you continued, the taunt coming easily.

the rivalry between us was well-documented, and the media loved to play it up. they thrived on the narrative of the veteran versus the rising star, and moments like this only fueled the fire.

diana's eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out. instead, she stepped closer, her voice low so only you could hear. "you really want to do this here, now?" she asked, the edge in her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games.

the intensity in her gaze gave me pause, but you weren't about to back down. "why not? it's not like we’re friends," you shot back, keeping my voice just as quiet but no less pointed.

"oh trust me sweetheart, being your friend is the last thing on my list," she spat as she looked me up and down.

your lips quirked up into a smirk. "good, cause i'd hate to be disappointed."

diana's eyes narrowed further, but there was a spark there, something more than just anger. "really wanna start this now, princess? sure you can handle it,"

the tension between you two was palpable, that neither of you could deny, even if you wanted to. as the crowd began to disperse and the arena started to empty, you both knew how this would end.

you hated that nickname, "princess" – it seemed everyone and their mom liked using the fact that you're a young, rising star to belittle you. not to mention you've gotten quite popular with media, nicknamed the wnba's princess.

however, you wanted to see how far you could push diana.

"see you around, taurasi," you said, turning away with a casual wave. but you didn't get far before you felt her hand gripping your arm, stopping you.

"not so fast," she said, her grip firm. "we're, not done here."

you raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. "oh? got something else to say?"

her eyes held yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded away. "you know where to find me," she said, her voice low and unmistakably suggestive.

later that night, under the cover of darkness, you found yourself outside her house. you knocked, a part of you wondering if this was a terrible idea, but the larger part of you knowing exactly why you were here. the door opened, and there she was, the same fierce determination in her eyes that she had on the court.

"get in here," she said, pulling you inside. the door closed behind you, and the air between you crackled with unresolved tension.

before you could say anything, her lips were on yours, urgent and demanding. you kissed her back with equal fervor, the line between hate and desire blurring rapidly. it was always like this – a collision of raw emotion and physical need.

you pushed her against the wall, your hands tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. she responded with a growl, her fingers digging into your sides. it was a battle, a struggle for dominance, but that was part of the thrill – and at the end, you both knew who would win.

her hands found your hair, pulling it just enough for you to let out something in between a yelp and a moan. "wanna test me right now, princess?"

you couldn't help but smirk at the challenge in her voice, the nickname "princess" now tinged with a hint of admiration rather than mockery.

"always up for a challenge," you replied breathlessly, your own hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer.

diana's lips curved into a wicked smile as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "good," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "cause i plan on making you remember who you're dealing with."

with that, she kissed you again, fiercely and hungrily, her tongue sliding against yours in a dance of desire and defiance. the air was thick with tension, the room alive with the sound of ragged breaths and quiet moans. clothes were discarded in haste, each move driven by an unspoken challenge to push the other to the edge.

you backed her towards the bed, your hands exploring every inch of her body as if trying to memorize the feel of her beneath your touch. diana responded eagerly, her nails grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. it was a clash of wills, a battle of dominance, but in the midst of it all, there was an undeniable attraction that neither of you could deny.

she pushed you on to the bed, you sat down and looked up at the older woman – her slicked-back bun, her slicked-back bun starting to come undone, wisps of hair framing her determined face. there was an intensity in her eyes that made your heart race, a mix of challenge and desire that left you breathless. you watched as she stood over you, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, the air between you thick with anticipation.

she gripped your face, pulling it upward so she could fully watch you. "didn't like that attitude earlier princess, do i need fuck some politeness into ya?"

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the mixture of dominance and desire igniting something deep within you – diana always seemed to have that effect on you. "maybe you do," you shot back, your voice trembling with a blend of defiance and arousal.

diana's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. "again, with that damn tone. didn't i tell you to fix it?"

her voice was a low, dangerous whisper, the threat behind her words only heightening your arousal.

"guess i'm a slow learner," you replied, your voice shaky but filled with a defiant edge.

diana's grip tightened on your face, her nails digging slightly into your skin. "then i'll have to teach you a lesson you won't forget this time, huh princess?"

without warning, she captured your lips in a bruising kiss, her teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made you gasp. she pushed you back onto the bed, her body pressing down on yours, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. the weight of her, the strength in her grip, was intoxicating.

"you think you can handle this, princess?" she murmured against your lips, her voice a mix of challenge and desire.

"try me," you shot back, your own voice breathless with need.

diana's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "oh, i will, honey. i will,"

the next few moments were a blur of heated kisses and urgent touches, your bodies moving together in a franticly with need. she moved with a fierce determination, her hands and lips exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. it was a battle for dominance, each of you pushing and pulling, trying to assert control even as you surrendered to the her touch.

diana got up for a second, a disappointed moan coming out of your lips before she sent you a warning glare. when she came back, she had exactly what you were waiting for – her treasured strap (or as dee liked to call it, her dick).

she moved with a predatory grace, climbing onto the bed and straddling you, her hands pressing you back against the mattress. diana tore at your clothes, the sound of fabric ripping adding to the intensity of the moment as you let out a small whimper.

her hands roamed over your bare skin, her touch alternately rough and tender. she always knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to drive you to the brink and pull you back again.

diana leaned down, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy. her hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if trying to assert her dominance. you responded in kind, your fingers digging into her skin, pulling her closer, the need to feel her overwhelming.

"dee," you whimpered as her lips moved to your neck, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

her hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as she positioned herself between them, her eyes locking onto yours.

diana's smirk widened as she aligned her strap, teasing you for a moment before pushing in slowly. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight edge of pain that only heightened your arousal.

"oh fuck, dee." you moaned as one hands moved to your hips, the other quickly found itself on your neck. your eyes fluttered shut, you felt whole again – despite the earlier pain, it felt good now.

"you like that, princess?" her gaze lingered on your face, taking in every expression, every sound, every little thing you did.

she waited for response and when she didn't get any, she gave your neck a squeeze, a moan spilling out of your bruised lips. "y-yes, mommy."

she let out a throaty laugh at that, shaking her head. she wouldn't admit it anyone – except you – but she liked the pet name and the sound of your voice dropped down to her pussy.

"fuck, baby," she rasped out as her head fell back. you gasped, your hands clutching at her shoulders, nails digging in as she began to move.

her thrusts were deliberate, controlled, driving you to the brink and pulling you back again. diana watched you closely, her eyes dark, the connection between you was unyielding. she leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as she continued to move inside you.

the rhythm of her movements was relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. your body responded to her with a need you couldn't control, arching against her, meeting each thrust with desperate urgency. the filthy sounds filled the room, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the slap of skin against skin.

"mommy, please," you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of release.

"oh now you wanna be all polite, huh princess?" she growled, her pace quickening, her grip on your hips tightening as she drove you further into a frenzy. "wanna hear you beg."

"please!" you gasped, the word barely more than a whisper as you clung to her, every nerve in your body on fire. "please, mommy, need it."

her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "that's more like it," she murmured before increasing her pace, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the brink. "good fuckin' girl," she praised.

when your release finally came, it was explosive, your body arching against hers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. diana didn't let up, riding you through your climax, prolonging the intense sensations until you were completely spent, trembling beneath her.

she finally slowed, her movements becoming gentle as she helped you come down from the high. she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin as you caught your breath.

"better?" she asked, her voice softening, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"mhm," you replied, your voice weak but nonetheless satisfied. you looked up at her, seeing the same mix of satisfaction and maybe a hint of affection in her eyes. "always know how to put me in my place."

diana chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "and you always know how to push my buttons, sweetheart."

she cleaned you up, a care that contrasted sharply with the intensity of your previous actions. diana's touch was gentle as she wiped the sweat and remnants of your passion from your skin. the intimacy of the act sent a different kind of warmth through you, one that was softer, more enduring.

as she finished, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "you should get some rest," she said, her voice a gentle murmur. "you're leaving early tomorrow,"

you nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and contentment. "mmm, you're right."

diana helped you get comfortable, adjusting the pillows and tucking the blanket around you. it was a rare moment of domesticity between you two, a fleeting glimpse of what things could be if circumstances were different.

"will you stay?" you found yourself asking, your voice barely more than a whisper. it was a vulnerable question, one that you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer to.

if you were at your place, she'd usually leave and if you were at her's, she'd usually sleep in the guest bedroom. however, for some odd reason, tonight felt different.

she hesitated for a moment, her expression softening as she looked at you. "just a little while," she finally said, climbing into bed beside you.

you turned to face her, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt both familiar and comforting. diana wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, her warmth enveloping you.

"you know this doesn't change anything," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

"i know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "but maybe, just for tonight, we can pretend it does."

she didn't respond, but the way she held you, the way her fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, told you that she understood. for now, in the quiet of the early morning, you could both set aside the rivalry, the competition, and just be.

when you awoke, you both lay there for a while, the early morning light casting a soft glow over the room. eventually, you knew you had to leave. as you got dressed, diana watched you, her expression unreadable.

"good luck with the next game," diana said, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a hint of something more. "i'll be watching it," she added, her voice tinged with amusement (and maybe a bit of mockery).

"me too," you replied with a smile. "try not to get a tech next game,"

she rolled her eyes as she waved you away, pushing the covers over her face. you laughed, getting out of the room and walked toward the door.

and you stepped out into the early morning light, you couldn’t help but smile again. whatever this was – enemies, rivals, lovers – it was yours and diana's alone, a secret game played in the shadows, far from the prying eyes of the public. and for now, that was enough.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[nipuni]

Hello time to yap about life and media again! 🥰

It's been a month and a half since we fully moved into this new old house and it's been a steep learning curve!! so far we had to learn how to care for a garden and grow fruit, how to deal with extremely humid weather, the mold!! also learning about various repairs, electricity and plumbing, we had a leak that turned one lamp into a waterfall, the rcd keeps tripping every time it rains, had to fix a door in the dark after Nicolas got himself trapped in a room when the handle broke during a power outage, the heating system is an air to water heat pump and it took us ages to figure out how to set it up correctly so we spent weeks wearing 3 layers inside the house, I even fell down the stairs!! I'm not used to having stairs inside the house lmao It's a big adjustment when you've always lived in small apartments in big cities all your adult life, but to be honest we love it!! everything feels like a new quest for us to tackle and it is so much fun figuring it all out as we go, reading technical manuals by candle light, the teamwork of installing and assembling furniture and networks, pruning the trees, celebrating every small mundane accomplishment and new skill learned every night over dinner, I may be corny as hell but it all feels like a privilege and an adventure 😭

Media wise we watched the second season of Arcane! This series never fails to make me fall in love with art again, not that I've ever fallen out but I can't say that the whole AI debacle hasn't been ass for the morale. Aesthetically it is a masterpiece. The character design, the cinematography, the mixed media montages aaaa Seeing the work, the skill and care that was put into every frame reminded me of how important and human the storytelling aspect of art really is. I wonder if we will see a shift to the more story driven or conceptual arts when we look back on this period, but I ramble, back to Arcane. I have mostly praise for it, wonderful characters and very touching relationships. I think our only issues were with the pacing being too slow at the start, every character climbing out of a very low point, and then too fast which made the second half feel a bit rushed. This season also felt a bit more tropey than the first one but still really solid. It remains one of the best animated series ever made and I am so happy to see it succeed in this current environment 😭 It feels like teenagehood condensed into a show, we really enjoyed it. I hope we get a season 3!!

Also there was an update in our David Tennant filmography quest! we watched The Politician's Husband and unsurprisingly we loved it!! It was gripping and the acting was brilliant. It is actually what I was expecting Rivals to be like, I realize 🤔 I think it could have used a 4th episode, felt like it ended too quickly and there was room for more, as if they ran out of time to tie things up so they picked the quickest route. But it was really good!! These miniseries are always so engaging and so short, I need mooreee.

We missed our DT nights!! Nicolas spent the last week hunting for more of David's work for us to watch. We've been hosting family for a few days again last week and on top of work and everything else we had to pause them for a bit. But now we are back to our nightly routine and he's over the moon!! Instant mood boost it's embarrassing lmao both of us falling this hard for this guy is too enabling, he even made his name our guest wifi password, we are besotted 😂

Oh! I also I saw a Veilguard Q&A was happening and read a few replies I saw posted here, and it proved to be a huge mistake! It was a disappointing and truly infuriating read. What even happened during the production of this game lmao How come the average fan seems to have a much better grasp on the lore, characters and plot than the people who made it 😭 There is this gaping disconnect between intent and execution. The way that fans are trying to make sense and give meaning to the complete mess that is the writing in an attempt to salvage and preserve the aspects they loved about it is saddening. I am mentally throwing tomatoes at John Epler as we speak. His answers felt so unserious and baffling at best and offensive and petty at worst. It's been eye opening, I could go on a two hour rant but the more I learn and dwell on it the more bitter I become about it all and I'm already seeing ten year old discourse resurface and people getting weird about it so I'll just ..🚶‍♀️ In my eyes this world and it's characters now belong only to those who love it and lives in my memory 🫡

Anyway, this ended up being at least twice as long as I was planning to make it again 😭 and I still have to catch up with asks aaaa it's been a busy month sorry I'll get to them soon!! Thank you for reading and for the support and for just being here!! I hope you all have a great week 🥺❤️

[halfwayhearted]

hihii

following the recent win i was wondering if you could write something for pau where he just won a game and is going back home super fluffyyyy

Playground Love — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: You can’t wait to show him just how proud of him you are when he arrives back in Barcelona and visits you.

Word Count: 590+

Disclaimer/s — Sunshine!Reader, just fluff, really. That’s it!

A/N: CHAMPIONS. CHAMPIONS. HI. WE’RE CHAMPIONS??? Me saying that like I’m a player playing for them, whatever 🤦‍♀️

They had won—five to two. You were ecstatic the second the whistle sounded, jumping around and cheering as if you were on the pitch with them. This was such a moment for your boyfriend and his club, and you could practically feel the excitement and relief in all of their expressions.

“Mamá! Do you see that? That’s Pau!” You exclaimed, gently shaking her shoulders, unable to tear your gaze away from the television.

It’s not like she didn’t celebrate with you—she did. Maybe too much, as you saw her slowly sit down, her smile still plastered on her face. “Are you going to text him? You should text him.”

That’s when you shot her a look. “I’m positive that he’ll be too busy celebrating to answer his phone. I’ll… text him later. Look! Do you see him?” He was in a botched single-file line, awaiting his turn to have a medal placed over his head, reminding him and his teammates of their deserved win.

You just couldn’t wait to finally be able to see him.

It wasn’t until the next day that he told you he’d be on his way to you, the simple message causing a stupid, lovesick smile to grace your lips.

As soon as the sound of his knocking registers in your ears, you’re rushing to your front door, swinging it open like you’d break it off its hinges. “Pau! Come in, come in!” You say with a slight hold on his jacket, shutting the door behind him.

“Did you see me yesterday?” The boy questioned.

“I watched the entire thing. You played so good!”

His face lights up and he finally pulls you in for a hug, his arms encircling your waist and his nose nestling in the crook of your neck. The action soft.

Then, as you both pull back, he’s quick to lean down, placing a tender kiss on your lips, the moment causing your smile to broaden. So, you finally do what you’ve been longing to do to him.

And that was to litter his face with your kisses.

Doing exactly that, he lets out a hearty laugh, his face turning a shade of light pink with each peck.

You don’t really care, muttering, “I’m so proud of you,” between each one. Your grip on his jaw is careful so as not to hurt him, but after seeing how flushed he is, you can’t help yourself and do the exact thing he does to you: pinch his cheeks.

“I missed you a lot. Oh! Did you bring the medal?” A pause. “My mom’s been wanting to see it.”

Pau only shrugs, so you think he didn’t bring it.

That was fine! Maybe next time. Or maybe he can show you photos of it in all its glory and whatnot.

Until you feel the weight of it around your neck in an instant, you drop your head, a small gasp leaving your lips. “It’s so shiny. How’d you like it?”

“My parents had to pry it off of me. I didn’t want to take it off—or let go of it, for that matter.”

“I can see why,” you say with a giggle. “Hungry?”

With a slight ruffle of your hair, the brunette replies with, “Yeah, I could eat. Have you eaten?”

“Earlier. I’ll eat with you so you don’t feel left out.”

“How considerate of you.” And with that, the two of you enter your kitchen, making food, laughing, talking, and you saying how proud you were every-so-often. Which was… every five seconds!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @lechrts + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[lcriedlastnight]

a setback

○ lando norris x sports therapist!reader

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c 1.4k. i know i disappeared but college was kicking my ass for a bit. anyway this was inspired by dts cause it pissed me off!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

lando supposes the talk about him not having the 'right' mindset to be a world champion stemmed from his first win way back in miami last year but he thinks that zak really started to worry in the off-season after the end of the season. lando also knows that the stupid fucking netflix documentary didn't do him any favours in that department as basically everyone was agreeing with what he would call, haters.

so to say that lando had no clue what this meeting that zak had called just weeks before the first race of the 2025 season would be about was kind of a lie. he didn't know for sure, but word sure did spread fast around mtc. plus oscar had said that he overheard something along the lines of 'a therapist in the sporting department'. lando didn't even know that existed.

walking into that meeting room, lando knew that zak was plotting something. he's known zak long enough to know what his evil plotting face looks like and it was sitting plain, clear as day on his tanned, round face. and lando hated it. although that wasn't the only thing that let him know that something was up. oscar was sitting across from the ceo, the table stretching down the room. oscar was never early, hell he was never even on time! this set alarm bells off in lando's head before anyone had even notced he had opened the glass doors.

"lando! morning! how did you sleep!" zak greets him with his usual enthusiasm, getting up from his seat to pull him into a friendly hug. oscar greets his teammate and friend with a simple nod. lando reciprocates and sits down, after greeting zak with as much enthusiasm he can muster at this time of the morning on what was supposed to be his one and only full day off.

"so what was so important that you needed us to come in on our day off then?" lando doesn't waste anytime in asking zak the burning question after the pleasantries were out the way with.

"ah, yes! that.." zak starts, his voice trailing off, giving oscar a side glance. "well, as a team, we have decided that we want to start taking you guys'," he motions to the two boys in front of him, donned in their papaya shirts, "mental health as serious as we can. more serious than we have before with you guys, and previous drivers."

lando knew where this was going. knew what was coming next. they were going to be forced to therapy sessions every week to talk about their feelings about racing. it was just going to be the same shit he tells zak and the reporters after a race. "happy with the results from today, we pushed as hard as we could" or "obviously we are unhappy with how today's race ended but we gave all that we could today and it just clearly wasn't enough." he had said it all before - it was a waste of money really, to hire someone to do this for them. was it easy to tell that lando wasn't a fan of any kind of therapy?

"so to combat anything negative surrounding racing and racing with us, i have hired a sports therapist!" zak finishes, his voice raising at the end even though he could see the way lando's face falls as his thoughts are confirmed.

now all of that was two weeks ago and both mclaren drivers were stood outside of a random room inside of mtc that neither could say for sure that they had been in before.

"y'want me to go in first or d'you want to get it out the way with?" oscar asks a rather grumpy looking lando. oscar knows that he is only doing this so that lando doesn't feel like all of this was just for him and to better his mindset on track but he has a feeling that lando already knows that it is. oscar is not the kind of guy to take lando for a fool, not when he took the title of lando's longest driving partnership - he feels he knows him well enough by now to know his feelings.

"i'll go first."

before oscar can reply the door in front of them swings open and a young woman is standing behind it.

"hi! who's first?" she beams at both of the young drivers as she opens the door further to invite either of them in. instead of saying anything lando just stands up and walks inside the room, straight by the girl. if anything it was quite rude but to what oscar had seen she didn't seem too fussed about it. he did give her an apologetic smile but she just gave him another bright smile and followed lando into the room.

when lando walked into the room, it didn't look like it did in the movies. no big weird shaped couch, just a set of chairs in a room decorated just like the rest of the rooms in mtc. lando doesn't know why he thought it was going to be anything different. the boy sits down on one of the seats as she walks back into the room and closes the door behind her.

"hi," she greets him with her name as she sits across from him. "it's lovely to meet you, lando. zak gave me a brief rundown of what you guys are looking to get out of this but i'd just like to know from you." she says.

it takes everything in lando to not roll his eyes in annoyance. he knows it's not her fault but he can't help but get pissed off about all of this. this is the first time lando can remember that he was seriously pissed off at an aspect of his job. instead of sulking about it though, he puts on the fakest smile he's sure the girl has ever seen and responds, trying to keep the annoyance from his tone.

"don't know really, this was all zak's idea."

she nods her head in understanding, like she could read lando's mind and see all that hesitance he had towards therapy and talking about his feelings. maybe it was because talking about your feelings as a man was frowned upon or maybe it was because he was supposed to be strong as a racer and want to be an arsehole to all of his fellow drivers but all lando knew is that could not be further from what he was like.

"look, it doesn't take someone with a doctorate to know that you don't want to be here doing this," she starts, eyes still holding that same kindness that she had from when he had first saw them when she had opened the door.

lando feels his demeanour soften a touch at her constant kindness towards him, he's puzzled when he feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest because of it, too.

"and if you really don't want to talk to me about racing and how you think it affects you mentally, then you don't need to. i'm not forcing you to do something you don't think will work for you."

lando wants to let his jaw drop in shock. god, she's good. but there's no way she's come all this way to just offer not to do her job. surely, andrea and zak would be pissed to find out that he wasn't attending these sessions? if not at him then at her, for not making him stay.

"i don't really think it'll help me. zak hasn't said it but i know he's only hired you to try and get me that 'champions mindset' but i don't think that's me." lando explains a little, and without realising he had already opened up to the girl. just ten minutes before he had swore he wasn't going to tell her his age, never mind the one thing that has been keeping up at night recently.

of course she knew that she had already made the curly haired boy crack without even realising himself, she kept it to herself and dug just a tad deeper.

"well, do you think zak thinks you need this 'racing mindset to go on and win the championship?"

and just like that lando opens up again, answering every single one of her questions without hesitation and when the end of the twenty minutes was up, lando couldn't help but be surprised. he was only suppossed to stay for a few minutes to tell her that he would not be seeing her every monday morning.

so when she raises from her seat and heads towards the door, lando follows. she opens and lets lando out before letting oscar know that she was now ready for him but not without one last word to lando.

"see you next week?".

weirdly, lando couldn't wait for next monday.

[gguk-n]

would you consider doing a prompt in which the MLs have the same soulmate marks but they are enemies? you can choose the driver and the logistics i would love to see a fic like this by youu

Thank you for the ask!!

I had this in my inbox for so long bc I'm indecisive and I couldn't choose who to write it for, so there's a poll to choose. There will be a part 2. Full story is up!!

What? How?

Everyone grew up hearing about soulmate; from their family or friends or relatives. Most people looked forward to meeting their soulmate, some people wanted to defy fate and some people never got to meet their soulmate.

Y/N thought she was a part of the soulmate less crew, "I'll register you with soulmatch" her mother told her. Soulmatch was an agency, a app or a website, which ever one you chose to help two soulmate less individuals get together and find companionship in each other. Her mother wanted her to start looking, Y/N couldn't careless since her job kept her busy and she was barely at home anyways. Y/N was a race engineer in Formula One; a job she worked tirelessly to achieve. It barely gave her any time to wonder where her soulmate was. She got to work with some of the most talented and smart people to make machinery that made the car go really fast. But now she was working with her driver to make sure the race went as smoothly as possible with the best result as possible; sometimes at the cost of the other driver. "Are you listening to me?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Yeah" she replied. "I'll let you know once you match with people" her mother stated before cutting the call.

Her parents were late bloomers themselves; meeting each other in their late 20's and early 30's so she didn't understand the fuss her mother was making. She was in her prime and a soulmate would come along when he wanted to. Y/N travelled the world; if a soulmate existed, she would run into him eventually.

There were a lot of times you would wish someone was your soulmate and there were a lot of times you wished someone wasn't. For Y/N, it was her driver's teammate. She hated his guts; ever since she had joined, he had been a pain in the ass for as long as she could remember. He would start fights with her if she prioritised her driver, and honestly, who else would she prioritise. She had good strategies that would work in her driver's favour sometimes and he couldn't tolerate it. Starting fights and unnecessary arguments. The team was done with them, the paddock was done with them and the DTS crew always had so much fun.

It was any other race weekend, the two of them had been at odds since FP1. Y/N tried to be calm and mature about it; she didn't want to cause issues for the team. Hence, she ignored any thing and everything he said. It was getting on his nerve; she was ignoring him and behaving extremely rudely to him. It all came to a head when the team finished P1 and P3 with Y/N's driver winning the race. You can already imagine the resentment brewing as he got out of the car.

During the post race interview, there were jabs being thrown but it was during On The Sofa; he said something, he later realised he shouldn't have. But it was too late; Y/N was already there and a fight broke out. A lot of commotion, the media having a field day, the P1 and P2 driver trying to get them to stop, their team trying to stop them and PR having a crisis. The crowd went silent as Y/N pulled her sleeve up to reveal her soulmate mark which matched the her enemies's soulmate mark exactly; now visible due to the scuffle. A loud whisper broke out in the crowd, Y/N looking at him and then his mark as the pair tried to process what was happening. Over whelmed with emotions, Y/N stormed off, leaving the crowd but most of all her soulmate stunned.

Y/N was reeling from the revelation; the man who was supposed to be her soulmate was also the man she hated the most, or did she dislike him? All of these thoughts and emotions swirled inside her as she wondered what just happened and how she had gone this long before finding out. Did he know? Did he hate her because he knew? What was going on and what was she supposed to do? She felt her world crash and her phone wouldn't stop ringing. She looked at the caller and it was her mum. "Congratulations darling" she bellowed. Y/N was confused, "I saw you found your soulmate" her mum said when she got no reply. "How did you find out?" she asked. "It's on the news, sweetheart" her mother stated. While Y/N was still reeling from the revelation, F1's social media accounts had already posted about the two sworn enemies actually being soulmates and how it was straight out of a fairytale. Y/N wanted to disappear. Why was this happening now? she wondered, exhausted from the events of the day.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, how are you? Hope everything's peachy. I've been waiting for your requests to be open since probably December. I figured, maybe I could leave you my thoughts and you'll decide what to do with them. Is that fine? 😅 You can throw it straight to the trash if you'd like.

So that now every F1 Team have a girl driver in F1 Academy, I thought maybe they want to promote the Academy more and includes it in DTS series. So the reader is a driver for Ferrari. They assign her to Carlos and they've to film a Training camp before the season. Carlos sort of being her PT. Plot twist: they HATE each other. But their combined fury can easily catch on fire and lead them to other type of sport, more sensual one. So it's like enemies but/to lovers sort of thing. A lot of arguing, angst but also a bunch of steamy sex

The Uphill Battle || CS55

Warnings: Smut, angst, name calling WC: 1.8k

Pre-season Training - Dolomites This had to be the worst PR disaster in the making. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to pair you up with Jr Sainz needed to fall right off this mountainside. To make matters worse, they had a TV crew following you around all day and you were fairly sure your suite was bugged like Big Brother.

“Hurry up, I want to make it back in time for dinner,” Carlos growled as he stopped to look back at you. 

You narrowed your eyes, not that he could see them beneath the snow goggles, and sarcastically replied, “Oh no, baby boy can’t go to bed without his supper.”

He stabbed his sticks into the snow and pulled his googles up over his beanie. “You think I want to be out here babysitting a spoiled little brat? I am crawling just so you don’t get left behind and lost up here. Pick. Up. The. Pace.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you pushed harder, your calves protesting the hardship you were putting them through to prove a point. You overtook the Spaniard and made sure to only just miss his foot from the piercing pike on your ski stick. “Keep up, Junior.”

You were both panting by the time you arrived back at the luxury accommodation in the resort town at the base of the mountain. You were starving but you were also damp with sweat beneath the layers of cashmere and feather-stuffed coats so you went straight to the private pool. You figured after the whining Carlos had done about his dinner you wouldn’t be disturbed in the heated outdoor pool, but you were wrong.

Carlos curled a brow at the trail of clothes that led from the twin penthouse suites to the rooftop pool they shared, each layer getting thinner until it ended with a sports bra and panties. Snow littered the ground and he shivered in his bathrobe as he watched you float on the surface of the steaming water with your eyes closed. You looked relaxed, peaceful. It was a look he rarely saw on your face and it immediately washed away when you opened your eyes and caught him watching.

“Dirty perv,” you hissed as you slipped back beneath the water up to your neck and covered your breasts. 

“I’m not the one going for a skinny dip. You’re just looking for attention.”

“I don’t have to look for attention, it comes looking for me,” you said as you eyed up the goosebumps on his legs below the robe. “I figured you were too busy stuffing your face.”

“The Netflix crew were in the dining hall,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so you are not nearly as comfortable in front of them as you act. Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t think that would be hard.”

“I hope your balls get frostbite.”

Carlos winced at the idea and took a step closer to the water's edge and the warmth it promised. 

“If you get in here with me we are going to have a problem,” you warned, swimming closer to defend your territory. “There’s no cameras around to keep you safe.”

Carlo snickered and dipped his foot in. “I’ve seen your training in the ring, I think I can handle it.”

“Brave words when you are all the way over there.”

Your blood could have heated the water to boiling point as he slipped his robe off and tossed it over the rail before taking another step in, then another. You watched the water disappear over his skin tight trunks and darken the happy trail before rising over his abs. The team at Ferrari at least assigned you someone who was taking their PT position seriously, you could see from his physique that he kept his own routine solid and you could learn a thing or two - if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Take a picture, malcriada,” he said with a wink when your eyes finally reached his face.

“Such a shame,” you murmured wistfully.

“What?”

You dragged your eyes back over his body before sighing. “That a body that fine has a personality like yours.”

A wave splashed over you as he dove into the water and you lost sight of him in the dark. You should have put the underwater lights on but hadn’t wanted to light the water up when you hadn’t bothered to even change into a bikini. 

A large hand grabbed your ankle and you barely had time to inhale a breath before you were pulled under. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he was gone again and you spluttered to the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. “Asshole!” 

“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed from the edge he was leisurely reclining against. 

“Come here and find out.”

He slipped beneath the water but this time you were prepared and met him halfway. Your bodies collided, twisting and turning trying to fathom some kind of dominance until your legs wrapped around his waist and he sank to the bottom with you on top. His hands found your thighs and dug into the soft skin until your lips parted with a sudden thought and the last of your air bubbled to the surface. 

“Not the attack I was expecting,” he taunted as he rose to the surface behind you. The water falling from his hair cooled as it dropped to your shoulder and his hand traced the curve of your neck. “Someone plays dirty.”

“I’m not playing.” Your voice wasn’t the cold detached sound you had hoped it would be, but a needy sigh. Your legs pressed together and you were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. 

“Is that another invitation? You almost won that time.”

You turned around with a glare to find his smirk growing as wide as his pupils as he looked down at your body. “It’s not a fair fight anyway. I am naked and vulnerable.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you as vulnerable, malcriada, not with that prickly attitude and sharp tongue. But, if it would make you feel better about losing again…” his hands brushed over his hips and pushed his trunks down his thighs before he tossed them out of the pool. “Happy now?”

“I’m certainly something,” you murmured before realising you spoke aloud. Anger flushed your body again at the distraction he caused and you shoved your hand across the surface, spraying him in the face with the water. His momentary surprise was only that, momentary, and he leapt into your personal space with his own attack.

You weren’t quite sure how it happened, or how it started. Maybe the tension that had been brimming all week finally reached its breaking point and it was a mutual decision. One moment you were writhing to escape from his attack, your hands trying to find purchase on his body as you wriggled in his arms, the next you were writhing for an entirely different reason. 

His chest brushed over your sensitive peaks and your nails scraped down his back. Your legs tightened around his waist and felt the large length pressed between your stomachs. Your heads broke the surface but the gasp had nothing to do with the need for air when his palms squeezed your ass to hold you still. 

“What are you doing?” you moaned as you clit pressed to his shaft and every little movement rode you over the rigid veins. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt the heat of your core on him. “I’m trying to not fuck you right now.”

“Right, because you hate me,” you laughed humorlessly as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but you both moaned at the feeling.

“No, because you hate me.”

It had been a while since you last had sex, that was the excuse you gave for being so needy and wanting to be filled right at that moment. “I can hate you and still want to fuck.”

Carlos stared into your eyes and saw the desire in them, felt the desire that had your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. “Fuck it,” he decided aloud. “I can hate you and still make you come.”

“Bold words.”

He didn’t give you a response, at least not in words. His strong hands lifted you higher and pulled you back down on his cock. Your teeth clamped around the muscle where his shoulder met his neck and he groaned at the pain and your muffled cry. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You’re too big,” you whispered as he slowly speared you down his shaft until you looked down your body expecting to see a bugle at your belly button. Easing you back up, he set a slow rhythm as your body adjusted to his size and walked you both to the edge of the pool.

“You can take it,” he promised as your legs untangled from around him and you found yourself facing the mountain you had climbed earlier. His hips snapped forward and buried himself back in you from behind and your cry echoed out into the night. “That’s it, make an avalanche, malcriada.”

You didn’t care that he called you brat. You didn’t care if you brought the mountain down on the whole town. You only cared about reaching your own high and you chased it with your hips, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke. Waves rippled out across the water and soon turned to splashes as your core tightened and those ripples began to make their way down your spine.

“I can feel you shaking,” he teased in your ear, his hand snaking over your hip to find your clit. “Let go, dulce, let me feel you come.”

Your eyes slammed shut as waves of pleasure rocked through you and his name tumbled from your lips, betraying yourself with the reverent tone it held. His pleasure grew at the sound and he slammed himself as deep as he could in your cunt, letting your tight walls milk him as he came. There should have been anger at the idea of being filled with his seed, but you took delight in the liquid warmth pooling inside you. You had made him come undone, it was a win of sorts in your mind.

Satisfied for the moment, you pushed his body back and walked up the steps, into the biting cold night. Carlos was still high from his release and he didn't realise until it was too late. You were already halfway to the suites when he noticed his robe was missing, a quick scan of the snow confirmed his trunks had found the same fate.

“Brat!” he called out as you disappeared inside.

“Asshole.”

Click here for part two.

[ask-the-sexyman-squad-archive]

so what's the manor gonna do for easter, maybe go on a little sexyman easter egg hunt, the eggs can have little tophats too X3

"MIGHT DO SOME EGG HUNTING, BUT WHO KNOWS! IT MIGHT JUST BE A NORMAL DAY FOR US...WE COULD HIDE SOME EGGS FOR SAM, THOUGH..."

"Bill suggested I'd be the Easter Bunny...he later regretted his choice. Good riddance: the triangle-coded bastard had the nerve to tell me that...I do not look fat...not sure if he was trying to imply that, and I know that he probably wasn't, but still."

"The tidbit with Bill and Double Trouble was certainly interesting! Oh, how mad my beloved got...it was quite entertaining, but I had to make sure Bill's other eye was safe."

"Dad suggested photos. Photos. Of me in a Easter dress. Honestly, I'd rather jump into Weirdmageddon than that shit."

"Samantha..."

"I'm not taking a picture with a creepy mascot! EVER!"

"I already got an egg here! Top hat and all... :)"

"Honestly, we're not doing anything special. But with this bit, I get to see how flustered Mordecai really gets~"

"...rather."

"Good~"

[pedriache]

hey i love your writing, i was wondering if you could do like jobe bf headcanons list it could be about anything so yeah, if you do decide to do it thank youuuu <3

Boyfriend Jobe head canons !

I like shiny things / but i’d marry you with paper rings.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . despite coming off as quiet and reserved is the furthest from it. He was obnoxious and joked around constantly, which would seem annoying, but truthfully—you loved him even more for it.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . is very affectionate. His favorite form of affection was to hold your hand. It was subtle, easily hidden when need be, and a simple squeeze of the hand could tell him many things—such as if you were ready to leave a function, or just wanted to assure each other you were there.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . said the first ‘I love you.’ It had come out unexpectedly, but he didn’t bother covering it up or taking it back. He loved you, and you deserved to know that. Plus, how could he take it back when he saw the blush pass across your cheeks and the way you stumbled over your words in a flustered state.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . only felt nervous under your gaze. Somehow, every time your eyes landed on him for a signifiant amount of time, he shifted and swallowed thickly. He didn’t mind it, you just made him… flustered.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . notices the little things. While you two had first started talking, you had mentioned you loved tulips in passing. On your first date, he’d shown up with a bouquet of them in your favorite color. He’d noticed you preferred a certain color of jewelry, and from then on out, he’d only ever bought you that color.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . talks about you constantly. He will somehow interject you into a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with you. His family and friends liked to tease him about it, but still he felt no shame. He’d always say, ‘why wouldn’t I talk about her?’ A simple response, but it meant the world to you when you found out.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . adores your morning look. He liked to joke that it was like seeing a Panda in their natural habitat—something few have gotten to see. A part of you only he got to see. It was you with no makeup, no care, just you. He loved every part of you, but most specifically the part where you were free and yourself.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . hates seeing you upset. It genuinely caused him (in a sense) distress. When you were frowning, he would tell you jokes until you cracked a smile, no matter how small, as long as it was there. When you had a bad day, he pampered you with your favorite snacks and gifts. You would always pout, telling him how much you loved and appreciated him. Jobe always replied with a small smile and an, “I know you do, and I love and appreciate you too.”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future jobe posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @judebellenthusiast @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms

[directdogman]

Hey there's someone trying to say you said you were pro Israel on discord? They're anonymous and say you blocked them before they could get screenshots so I don't really believe them, but still :[

Mhm. Nice bit of news to wake up to, this.

Yeah, so this person's a troll and they're more than likely lying on purpose in order to try to me look bad because I blocked them on Twitter for being unpleasant, something I rarely even do and they're still seething about it. The block had nothing to do with Gaza, the person was just being annoying and I thought it'd be healthier to block and move on. I'd really prefer not to have to give this person energy, but if there's a rumor going around, I'd like to nip it in the bud, since it's very easy to disprove in this case.

To explain what this person's blathering about: Earlier this week, on a Phonegingi plush advert, this random user that doesn't follow me (and actually instructs fans of mine not to interact with them in their bio) made a dramatic QRT decrying me for posting a DT advert during a strike week, which I honestly had no clue it was, especially since my own timeline was (and still is) full of accounts posting normally.

Given that the person seemingly encountered one of my posts in the wild and ended up seething because of it + likely didn't want anything to do with me on their timeline (as their bio indicated), after thinking it over briefly, I did the healthy thing and just blocked the person + moved on. Makes sense, right? I'll admit: Even if the way the person approached me was regrettable, if I'd known it was a strike week, I'd have participated (as I'd participated in the last one), so I stopped posting teasers for the week anyway, only resuming again yesterday.

I'll also say: I checked my own timeline btw and looked at the accounts posting, and nobody else had anyone acting like this in their replies, even the much larger accounts. Nor did anyone else contact/reply to me in any way stating any disapproval.

Given that I've only blocked one account recently that isn't a replybot (and ofc, given the subject matter of that tweet), I'd have to assume that this is the anonymous person spreading stuff.

I'd understand where this person was coming from if maybe I'd stayed completely silent about Gaza, (which a lot of accounts I follow have) but I haven't. I had a Palestinian aid post pinned on my Twitter for weeks, I've talked about Gaza's child population and my support for South Africa's Hague suit in my discord server, I've engaged in the boycotts, wound down posting during strikes, donated a pretty substantial amount of Dialtown revenue towards sending money/esims... I have 4 bucks in my bank account right now and when my next DT check comes in, you'd better believe I'll be giving more. That's my right as a private citizen and one I'll continue to exercise.

I feel pretty uncomfortable having to put this stuff in front of me to 'prove' myself, even if some of it is public anyway. Charity should be something you do because you CARE and if it wasn't for this person, I'd have been far happier keeping a lower profile and not explicitly calling attention to my own aid, but given this ask, I feel it'd be stupid not to nip this in the bud. The majority of this information could be easily found with the tiniest amount of digging, btw, so it's not like the user couldn't have known any of this. This is the part of having a fandom that creators seldom talk about. You block one person for being a lil annoying, next thing you know, there's rumors that you support genocides! Fun.

So yeah, I'd like you to tell this person to just move on like a normal person (send them this post if you have to) and to stop spreading incorrect rumors about me out of spite. If they insist, I'm happy to pull up receipts to prove everything I've said. If they actually thought I was pro-Israel, they wouldn't be spreading it anonymously, they'd be writing another public post about the subject matter. Also if you see anyone repeating the rumor, please correct them. Thanks.

[always-andromeda]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Frankie Morales x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3,038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ After recruiting you to be his plus one for yet another wedding, Frankie can't help but ruminate on and regret the last one he brought you to.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Lolabee!! I'm super excited to finally share that I'm your secret Valentine!! I apologize in advance for posting this so late in the game; exam week has been super hectic. That being said, I decided to give myself a little bit of a challenge and write something for Frankie for the first time ever. I should preface this by saying that when I read your prompt for rom-com vibes, I immediately began filing through all of my favorite rom-coms. And since my current favorite is Plus One, this fic is very much inspired by it!! Happy late Valentine's Day!! (dt: @thelightsandtheroses) (divider credits: @cafekitsune)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ fluff with little bits of angst (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no physical description given to the reader except for the fact that she wears makeup, mentions of alcohol and references to the reader drinking, the slightest references to Frankie's past, this fic is almost entirely removed from the movie's canon (these characters are basically my paper dolls that I'm making do cute things<3), idiots in love, they tease each other, they go to a wedding, misunderstandings occur, but it all works out <3

“You’re bringing your own tissues this time, right?” Frankie called from where he sat at the edge of the bed. He’d slept in far worse places. But he could already feel new knots forming on top of the old ones in his back. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to spending yet another night attempting to sleep on the dense hotel room mattress.

You replied from the bathroom, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m prepared.”

“You better be. Because you’re not using my tie to blow your nose again.”

If you were in the room, Frankie could’ve practically felt your glare burning a hole through him. But instead he only heard the clear exasperation in your tone when you answered, “I did not use your tie to blow my nose.”

“Might as well have…” he mumbled. Santi’s wedding had claimed that casualty. By the end of the ceremony you’d soaked his tie in tears and covered it with a fine layer of translucent powder from dabbing your face off. And as much as he teased, he hadn’t minded it. He hadn’t minded it any more than he’d minded the distant friends and relatives who’d assumed that you were his girlfriend. Which…wasn’t an insulting assumption by any means.

The next time – at Benny’s wedding – Frankie brought you tissues. He didn’t like to think about Benny’s wedding. But if there was one thing he was happy about, it was that he’d thought far enough ahead to bring them for you. He was glad to see your smile. To feel your arms wrap around him as you thanked him and told him he was such a sweetheart. He was also grateful for the Hawaiian sun; for the developing sunburn that had prevented you from seeing how much that one nickname made his cheeks flush in that moment.

Your head popped out of the bathroom doorway, your makeup only half done, to aim a smartass smile at him with your lined lips. “Hey, I like to think of it as a gift. You should too.”

“Your ability to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You're damn right,” you said indignantly.

Frankie sighed, pushing his hair back for about the dozenth time. He then laid back on the bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “If we’re lucky, this is the first and last time you’ll need to worry about packing some to begin with. Will’s the last stop on the wedding train.”

The thought almost made him misty eyed. Within a few hours, he’d be the last single man in his crew. The last one awake at the sleepover. Eyes so wide they were practically ablaze staring through the uncertainty of night. Unable to find sleep. Unable to believe he’d ever find it to begin with.

Your voice cut through his trance. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe next year we’ll get an invite for Tom’s second wedding,” you teased. 

Frankie rolled his eyes. At least he could take some sort of comfort in that. Redfly had tried out the whole settling down thing. And it just didn’t work. Frankie wished his buddies well, but he couldn’t help but feel deep down that they’d never be made for domesticity. They weren’t made for teary-eyed speeches and destination weddings. 

“Don’t count on it,” he drawled.

“Don’t count on it,” you mimicked Frankie’s slow, gruff voice which earned a small laugh from him. “I’ll tell you what, I bet you that Ben’s best man speech isn’t going to be nearly as good as Will’s was.”

He attempted to recall what Will had even said only a few months prior. It had to have been good, the man was a public speaker, for Christ’s sake. He guessed, “That one was long, right?”

“Yeah…don’t you remember it? Frankie, were you even there?”

“I was there alright.” He laughed to mask the wince he wanted to let out. Then he cleared his throat, throwing out another vague guess, “But I seem to remember that by the end of it, he needed some damn tissues too.”

“If you had a shithead little brother who managed to get married before he could experience massive head trauma, you’d probably get a little choked up too.” You added more to yourself than to him, “God, Frankie, how do you forget a speech like that? It was fucking beautiful.”

There was a very high likelihood that he had forgotten. Frankie spent almost every day following that entire night trying to forget it. And he wondered how in the world you remembered it either considering how much you’d drank.

If you could remember what Will had said…you should’ve remembered what you’d said too, right? You, standing in the bathroom and observing yourself in the mirror as you combed through your lashes to separate them, had to have known what you said to him that night. Because he knew it. Whether he liked it or not, he had that particular speech memorized with the way it ran through his head.

Frankie had known you were in a tough spot. Hell, it was part of the reason why he’d brought you along; part of the reason why Benny had insisted Frankie take you. 

She just got broken up with, Frankie had tried to reason.

Benny had merely smirked, Which is the exact reason why you should invite her out. Give her a chance to get fucked up. Spend the night with one of the bachelors. It’s the quintessential wedding experience.

Frankie couldn’t have even pretended to mask his disgust at the idea. But he couldn’t lie…bringing you along again sounded leagues above going alone. 

And now, sometimes he wished he had toughed it out instead.

No matter how much he tried to forget, the details always flashed through his mind. The way your fingers ran through his hair. How your touch managed to stay so soft despite how completely out of it you were. But that’s how you’d always been with him. Even at his absolute worst points when he was a less than ideal man, you found some shred of decency inside him that you never hesitated to cradle and nurture.

Maybe that’s what had made those tangles form in his stomach; the idea that he was taking advantage of that kindness.

Because that wasn’t…you. You wouldn’t have done that in your right mind. If your boyfriend hadn’t just broken up with you. If you hadn’t just found out that the entire time Nick had been cheating on you with that woman from accounting in his office. If you hadn’t drank way too much. None of this would be happening if you weren’t at your absolute lowest. 

So he wiped the slate clean. It’d almost always been easy to do that. To simply forget. But he should’ve known better by now. Those things he somehow managed to lock up always found a way to ooze out of the cracks in his facade.

There were a few times Frankie thought you might crack during the ceremony. Especially when Will read out his vows, because of course the guy went the extra mile, delivering them with that stern reverence that made him the kind of guy you wanted on your team. 

But you didn’t cry. This time…you grabbed his hand. It almost didn’t occur to him that you had until Will kissed his now wife and you squeezed Frankie’s hand in excitement. For a moment, he wondered if you’d managed to get a drink in before the ceremony. You couldn’t have; the bar wasn’t supposed to open until afterwards. He knew it couldn’t have been an alcohol induced action but he was still afraid to acknowledge it. 

So he kept as still as possible. Even when the ceremony ended and you began to pull him around the venue. Though he knew his hand was getting clammier with every minute that passed, he let you drag him around the little circles of friends and family of the bride and groom. He had checked out enough that he didn’t quite realize what he’d gotten himself into until you were bringing him to the dance floor and positioning his hands on your hips.

Only when you let go of his hand and placed your own on his shoulders did it strike him how similar this felt to that night at Benny’s wedding.

You spoke like you were treading thin ice. “That speech was…surprisingly alright.”

“And you didn’t cry,” he remarked equally as carefully.

“I didn’t cry!” you exclaimed.

“It would’ve been fine if you had.”

You shook your head, “That wasn’t the kind of speech you cry at. It was simple. Sweet. I liked it. Who would’ve thought Benny’d have it in him, right?”

“So what do you do for that kind of speech?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A polite clap. Maybe a cheer.”

“A cheer? Maybe you should’ve brought your pom poms instead of tissues.”

The way you scrunched up your nose into a playful grimace tugged at his heartstrings. Then you laughed, “Shut up.” God, he loved when you and him fell into this groove. 

So he continued with the bit, “You should get some for Tom’s wedding. The guy deserves a whole damn squad if he gets all tied up again.”

“Thought you said I shouldn’t count on it?”

“If you’re gonna count on anyone getting married soon, it’s better if it was him.” Frankie clicked his tongue, “Not like I’m going off the market anytime soon.”

“Oh, Frankie, stop it.” Your smile dropped ever so slightly, eyebrows turned inward as you gazed at him with something akin to pity or sympathy; he wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have no idea what the future could bring.”

“Not a wedding, that’s for damn sure.”

Your expression only intensified. He recognized it well after the amount of times you’d talked him off a ledge. “You can’t just discount the possibility entirely,” you argued.

“I can and I will,” he said stubbornly.

You were quiet for a few seconds, “So you’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? I mean…who would your best man be?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Your lip quirks to the side of your face as you feign a contemplative look before concluding, “Probably Santi.”

“Look at you, you did it for me,” Frankie deadpanned.

“I could plan the whole damn thing for you, don’t test me.”

“Why’s that?”

This time you pressed your lips together. And Frankie swears he felt you stumble over your own feet ever so slightly; like he’d caught you off guard with the query. “Oh, you know…weddings usually aren’t those things that people are eager to plan.”

“But why would you specifically be planning it? Unless you’re–”

A beat passes before you break out into an incredulous grin. “You’d want me to marry you and plan our wedding? That’s a tall order. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick one or the other, sorry.”

Frankie chuckles. He let the remark pass. He always enjoyed this back and forth. How you and him had always been able to bounce off of each other. It was hard enough keeping up with some of the guys. But keeping up with women was a whole different story. He always seemed to be a few steps behind most of them. For some reason, your pace was just perfect. Your humor, your timing, it all clicked with his personality.

Just like you were prone to doing, you broke the silence with an awkward laugh and big eyes staring right into his. “So…which one do you pick?”

He almost didn’t catch the question; almost didn’t want to. “Hm?”

“Would you rather marry me or have me plan your wedding?” you clarify.

“Come on, you know I’m not answering that.”

And the tide shifted once more. Just as quick as you were to smile, your expression melted into one of muted mortification. Like you’d just tilted your hand a little too far

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Your hands slid off his shoulders and you wiped them off on your dress before wrapping them around yourself. That was when you retreated, leaving him standing there looking like more of a fool than he ever thought he had.

He stared after you for a few seconds, struggling to process what had just happened when it finally registered.

Soon he was following after you. How you knew to navigate the venue so quickly, he couldn’t be bothered to wonder. All he knew by the time he got to the lobby of the wedding hall was that something was wrong.

He spotted you rushing down the sidewalk as he stepped outside. In all his exasperation, all he could get out was, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The cool night air of the fall settled in and billowed around him like a curse. He wasn’t quite sure if the deep chill that ran down his spine was from the weather or the sight of you turning around, eyes already wet with tears that you were desperately trying to blink away.

Your voice came out hoarse as you shouted back, “You’re asking me what the fuck? No, Frankie, what the fuck is up with you? I kissed you…God…how many months ago? And you don’t say a fucking word. I keep talking about Benny’s wedding and you keep acting like none of it fucking happened.”

Frankie threw his hands up. “You were drunk. I don’t even remember how many fucking drinks you had.”

“I had a couple virgin cocktails,” you scoffed. The admittance wasn’t stubborn. But it did come with a tone of disdain, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“You wouldn’t–” he stopped himself. You wouldn’t have done any of that unless you were drunk.

“You acted like you were drunk.”

You shook your head. “I was having fun. I was with you and I was having fun, you dumbass.” Then you sighed, gaze darting towards the street nervously. “And I woke up the morning after and I thought that…I thought you would’ve at least said something. I thought you would’ve asked me how I felt. I thought you would’ve had the decency to at least check in. But you were just…you were completely fine.”

“I wasn’t fine…”

“And now you want to crack jokes about marrying me?”

Frankie wagged a finger in your direction, an almost childish defense. “You brought that shit up first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, that doesn’t matter,” you muttered before raising your voice once more. “What matters is that I kissed you. I looked into your eyes and told you I fucking loved you and you said nothing.”

Hearing your voice say it again, even filled with such frustration, such anguish, he could help the way something fluttered in his chest. And even still, he shoved it down deeper than he ever had before.

“Because I wasn’t going to hurt you the way that Nick did.” He watched your gaze soften. “It would’ve killed me to hurt you like that.”

With the sounds of the city passing you both by, Frankie caught one of the worst sights possible. The tear that rolled down your cheek. And then the few more that followed, all shamelessly continuing their desolate stride down your neck. How you unclenched your jaw and unfolded all of the pain you’d kept since that summer into a few words. “You hurt me worse than Nick ever did.”

Your whole being compacted in on itself once more, recoiling from the vulnerable admission with a breathless conclusion. “Fuck you, Frankie. Fuck you.”

There it all was. And all he could think about was that night at Benny’s wedding. The night you told him you were glad Nick was gone. The night you smiled softly at him, thumb running over his bottom lip as you whispered.

I love you.

They were such fragile words. Words he hadn’t wanted to put any weight on, lest they shatter from beneath him and leave him falling face down in his own hopes. Because a small part of him had almost always hoped it was you. He never let himself truly believe the idea for long. But, God, he wanted to…could he still? He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice trembled in time with his hands. And he’d fully come to terms that it wasn’t just the cool air. He wasn’t a stranger to fearing for his life, with the work he’d once done, it was a given. But this wasn’t that. This was different. It was a fear of something a little more abstract. Because following this risk, there wouldn’t be oblivion. On the other side of his eyelids was a world where you either forgave him or you brushed him away. He certainly believed he deserved the latter with the way he’d been. But he’d never know unless he took the plunge.

When he opened his eyes again again he was grateful to find you still standing in front of him. He wouldn’t let this night steal his courage again. He repeated, voice firmer than before and charged with certainty, “I’m sorry.” Then finally replied, “I love you too. I love you.”

You gave him those hope filled eyes once more. He saw how it slowly morphed into joy; the kind that carried peace. You stepped closer, fingertips brushing against the material of his jacket as you reached for him.

Frankie closed the gap without any hesitation, his own hand moving to cradle your face as he moved in to kiss you. None of his recollections of the first time he’d done it could’ve ever lived up to the second one. There was no dread, no looming guilt, no fear. Only excitement and hope.

“If I could only pick one. I’d marry you. Any day…I’d marry you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back. And with his eyes still closed, he felt you smile as you answered, “Maybe I’ll ask you again next year. For now, let’s have this.”

“I can handle that,” he smiled then melted into you once more. And already it was something he knew he could easily get used to. Next time you asked, he’d be ready.