#i recently found that out and it blew my mind

[to-thelakes]

nothing but a pass time (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); underage smoking, mentions of underage drinking, sad!lip, comfort, hints of angst (unrequited love)

summary; the summer had come around but you and lip were always the same. except it was harder to ignore your brewing feelings now.

series masterlist

i have edited and read this part over so many times that i feel like i'm not actually making it better anymore, so here it is! more of my babies, the next few parts are gonna get a little angst-heavy from both lip and reader's side but then i think it's gonna settle a bit and hopefully get a little better, i have the next three parts all partly/fully written and they're sad but also sweet (comfort is real and lip NEEDS iT, this poor man), so anyway, here's the new part hehe

“My dad would kill you if he found us,” You said as you rounded the corner with Lip. He had texted you, asking you to come and meet him. You didn’t mind. You’d been dying to see him after a too-long shift at the store. You had been there all day, sweating and dealing with shitty customers, and that one text was enough for you to be filled with a familiar sense of glee. 

You didn’t need a reason to see Lip, you never had but something about him asking to see you made you giddy. That text was enough to have you halfway out the door in minutes, changed, showered and beaming.

Though, that had always been the case.

The cigarette between your lips was new though. You had never been one for smoking but Lip had somehow gotten you into it. You only smoked with him though.

“They still think we’re dating?” Lip asked as you stopped by one of the pillars that held the El tracks up. The train only came every twenty minutes or so this late at night. So it was peaceful, quiet and you could smoke without being disturbed.

You were the one to plop yourself down first, feet aching from being on them all day. Working nearly a 10 hour shift was not for the weak and you were wondering why you’d bothered to do it to yourself.

“I dunno,” You shrugged as you took a drag of the cigarette Lip had handed to you. He sat down beside you, head resting back against the concrete. You let the smoke fill your lungs before you breathed it out into the night air. It was cooler than it had been all day, you didn’t feel like the air was suffocating you, just the cigarette, “Hard to tell with them at the moment,” You shrugged, the hint of something more beneath those words but neither of you dug into it. Lip simply nodded and you offered the cigarette back. He took it from between your two fingers and took a long drag.

He looked sad. You assumed that’s why he had even bothered you this late. He knew you’d been working all day and he had always used it as an excuse to keep to himself. But tonight, he seemed to want to see you. You were never going to deny him.

You hadn’t ever denied him anything.

You watched as he blew the smoke out through his nose and you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He briefly tensed up before relaxing. 

He had gotten so jumpy recently. 

You tried to ignore it.

“What’s up?” You asked after a moment of silence. He offered the cigarette to you but you waved him off. You could feel the nicotine buzzing through your system, not used to the high after nearly a week of not seeing Lip.

“Karen’s got this guy,” Lip said after a moment of silent contemplation, “Jody. Some fuckin’ asshole twice her age,” He explained, waving his free hand out. He then put the cigarette between his lips, breathing in the smoke and speaking as he exhaled, “Hasn’t even fucked her. She says it’s some Sex Addicts Anonymous shit. I don’t get it,” Lip said as he choked slightly on the smoke. You should have known this is where the conversation would go so you simply reached your hand out for the cig.

Lip passed it over without question.

Part of him hated himself for corrupting you. You had never touched a drop of alcohol until he convinced you otherwise. And you had resisted smoking cigarettes until one night a few months back at a party with him. 

You had been pretty drunk at that party and he had casually offered his cigarette to you. He hadn’t thought much of it, expecting you to shake your head and tell him to ‘fuck off’ as you always did. Instead, you had taken it from his fingers, taken a drag and coughed on the smoke. 

But that didn’t stop you from taking another drag.

Now every time he watched the smoke curl out from between your lips, he felt bad. Like he had doomed you to some horrible fate.

“And she said that they’re together and just sit under the stars and talk and shit. I mean, who does that?” He asked. You tried to bite back the reply that that’s exactly what the two of you did but you kept your mouth shut, “We’re teenagers. We’re meant to be fucking each other and doing stupid shit. Not- not watching cartoons and fucking cooking together. It’s- it’s just bullshit,” Lip was frustrated. You could tell and you couldn’t blame him. Not really.

Part of you just felt sorry for him. You knew that he had fallen for Karen but she never really shared those feelings. At least, not that you could tell. She liked him and she liked to fuck him but you were never sure if it was more.

Another part of you was happy she was fucking with Lip’s head. Maybe it made you spiteful but you wanted him to understand how it felt to have someone always keep you at arm’s length.

You tried not to think about that though. 

You were his friend. 

You were there to help him, not celebrate his pain.

“Are you still fucking her?” You asked after a moment. You weren’t entirely sure how to make Lip feel better. You weren’t well-versed in this shit.

He nodded.

“Yeah but it’s this guy. He’s a fucking asshole,” Lip bit back, cigarette hanging from his lips. You rolled your eyes and took the cigarette from between his lips to take a puff yourself. You stayed quiet for a minute, not sure what to say.

“At least you still get to fuck her,” You responded, trying to see the bright side. You wanted to make him feel better, “Clearly if they aren’t even fucking, it doesn’t mean that much. So, give it a few months and she’ll be past him.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, trying to ignore the truth in what you were saying.

Lip had never fucked you and you had always been nothing but a pass-time for him. A friend to cry to and seek comfort from but nothing more. You knew that you didn’t mean that much to Lip. Not as much as Karen anyway.

“Yeah, maybe,” Lip said as he glanced down to watch you blow the smoke from between your lips. You tapped the edge of the cigarette on your thigh, ashes flying through the air just as an El train passed overhead.

It was deafening but the noise gave you some solace. You hadn’t noticed Lip looking at you and so you let yourself feel the heaviness. It was just for a moment and then you put your guard back up.

But for a moment, you let yourself frown. Let yourself feel sad. Feel lonely. Feel fucking stupid.

Then you were back to normal.

Once the train had passed, you spoke again.

“The way I see it, he’s either gonna break up with her or they’re gonna fuck. Either way, she’ll come back to you,” You decided after a moment. You weren’t sure if it was true. You had no experience with relationships. You’d only ever kissed people drunk at parties so you were talking out your ass.

But Lip just hummed along and took the cigarette from between your fingers. He took another drag and then smushed the butt of it against the grass, putting it out.

“Everything okay with you?” Lip asked after a beat of silence. Your head lifted from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked if you were okay. Usually, you told him anyway but he never asked.

“Yeah, why?” You responded, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He shrugged, meeting your gaze. Your eyes were boring into him and he felt guilty seeing the confusion. The way your eyebrows furrowed at his question as if you weren’t his best friend. As if he didn’t care about you.

“Y’just seem tired, that’s all,” He responded, shrugging. He was trying not to be defensive but it was hard not to be.

“Had a long day, it’s fine,” You retorted as you reached into the top pocket of his shirt. You didn’t ask before you grabbed the pack of cigarettes. Instead, you just plucked a stick out and grabbed his lighter. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. You looked up at him, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Bumming a smoke,” You stated before you placed the cigarette between your lips. You used your hand to shelter the end of the cig before flicking the lighter on. The bright flame illuminated your face, eyes shining in the light. It was there for a split second before you had successfully lit the cigarette.

“You been smokin’ with someone else?” He asked. You scoffed, dropping the cigarette pack and lighter back into his pocket before you took a drag.

“Fuck off, as if,” You dead-panned as you exhaled. You then took another drag, leaving the cigarette hanging off your lips as you blew the smoke out of your nose. It was Lip’s turn to take the cigarette from your lips now. He made eye contact with you as he took it, placing it between his own.

Fuck. You hated when he did shit like that.

The way he looked at you like he really gave a shit.

You tried not to think about it.

“Good,” He said before he took his own drag. You two sat in silence like that for a while, sharing the cigarette. You knew it was bad for you. You had told yourself you’d never be a smoker but the summer was long and being around Lip was painful. The nicotine made it easier to deal with.

So you just smoked until Lip - once again - put it out in the dirt. He then just stared, another El train passing overhead. You were both quiet for a moment before you sighed. You needed to go home.

“Got work tomorrow,” You muttered after a beat. It was you saying you needed to leave without really saying it at all. But you did, you needed to get out of here.

“Stay at mine tonight?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Gotta leave early, starting at 6. Would just wake you up. You’re grumpy that early,” You stated as you looked up at him. He frowned. You didn’t know what else to say to him and so you just looked at each other for a moment.

“Want you to stay over,” He mumbled, looking away. You ran your hands across your face, wondering if you were really gonna let this happen. But you already knew the answer the second he had asked the question.

“Let me grab my shit,” You gave in. Lip couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face. It felt like a victory, a small victory. 

[bewilderedbunny]

got too emotional thinking about libraries. again. ☹️

[emdotcom]

Remember! If you share, it shows you care, & more answers will be there.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[hermitcraft-8]

hermitcraft season eight tumblr would be so fucking good.

0 notes

😳 bigeyecrew Follow

helloooo everyone remember that Big Eye has all your needs and more for this upcoming apocalypse! shop Big Eye!

🌌 gtrain Follow

Erm... Kill yourself?

😳 bigeyecrew Follow

Grian I am coming to your house and I am going to shoot you dead, you bastard.

🌌 gtrain Follow

????!!??

#WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT?? #KERALIS???

136 notes

🚀 cumfan135 Follow

Did you guys know earwax is actually a kind of sweat?

🐐 doctormonster77 Follow

what kind of scientist are you again?

🚀 cumfan135 Follow

5

🐐 doctormonster77 Follow

5 what?

🚀 cumfan135 Follow

4

16 notes

🌝 pearlsies Follow

I love my neighbors!!

🌝 pearlsies Follow

changed my mind im going to strangle scar if he blows up my yard one more time.

🐈‍⬛ notawarriorcatsfanblog Follow

:(

🌌 gtrain Follow

:(

⚠️ therealimpulse Follow

:(

🌱 mumbo-jumbo Follow

:(

10 notes

🟩 joehills Follow

howdy yall! does anyone know what happened to the moon?

😁 bdizzle Follow

The what.

🟩 joehills Follow

it's a cosmic entity available when the sky is dark (night)

🛑 twinkletek Follow

i think he knows what a moon is.

🛑 twinkletek Follow

i think.

🟩 joehills Follow

i try not to assume anything about anyone. on a side note, have you looked outside recently?

🛑 twinkletek Follow

WHAG THE FUCK

#how is rhis how i found out about... whatever this is #what even is that

134 notes

🐈‍⬛ notawarriorcatsfanblog Follow

Just blew up Pearl's yard again... maybe she needs to stop putting creepers in boats.

#swaggon.txt

0 notes

🐺 rendiggitydog Follow

guys pretty please come do some holiday shopping at octogon i'll literally suck your dick

🐐 doctormonster77 Follow

🐺 rendiggitydog Follow

DOC BRO YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT.

#SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY

2.3k notes

🌸 hc-viii Follow

who said that.

[jayrockin]

So the dragons of Aftergarden are getting a redesign?

Yeeeeah despite making them just birds with ears to be a troll to dragon terminology pedants, I ended up trolling myself because their designs weren't weird enough to hold my interest. I was curious if I could make a creature with tripodal/pentapodal locomotion that felt "right" to me, since I had recently found out kangaroos use their tail as a fifth limb while walking and it blew my mind. Importantly this also allowed me to continue being a troll, since dragon terminology pedants usually define things by how many limbs they possess and walk on, and I've yet to meet any that account for odd numbers.

Here's the initial brainstorming sketches. I was also trying to figure out if I could do fire-breathing without magic, but the result was ultimately "Nope," at least for my own creature design standards. Flesh and fire reeeeeeally don't mix well. But I also wanted to steal spellworms/energy animals from an older fantasy project and add them to Aftergarden, so that's fine, I can just give them a symbiotic spellworm in their throat.

This is about as far as I got before I was distracted by designing alien wildlife and livestock. The spade at the end of their tail is actually a reversible foot, with claw/hoof keratin structures growing on the ends of vertebral processes. When sprinting, they are tripodal, and when walking, they alternate between the knuckles of their dexterous rear limbs and the wings/tail tripod. This makes them kinda a back-heavy flyer, but I'm fine with making them more focused on ground locomotion and reticent to fly. Most importantly, this is definitely a bizarre enough body plan to be fun to endlessly tinker with.

[moralesluvr]

hiiiii can i pls request something where the reader accidentally sends hobie her lingerie pics? or her bikini pics? look at claudia tihan’s instagram pics for what i’m saying. thank you <33

OOPS, WRONG PERSON! | h. brown.

“no…doesn’t look right.” you sucked your teeth with a frown, picking apart the images you just took of yourself, clicking delete hastily with a sigh. you wanted to like the photo, but the way you were posing wasn’t really to your liking, and you were trying hard to feel confident in the brand new lingerie you had just bought.

you had went out with your girlfriends, browsing throughout the mall as you blew your recent paycheck on clothes and makeup, your knowledge of the repercussions being ignored as you swiftly swiped your card for whatever items your heart desired. it was ecstasy to you, buying things that you actually liked, and you were really starting to crack out of your comfort zone when you found a beautiful lingerie set from victoria’s secret. it was accented with pretty white trimmings, little pink ribbons on the top, the panties silky and comfortable. you purchased the set with no regrets, walking out of that mall with a dirty smile wiped on your face.

posing in front of the mirror now was your biggest challenge. every way your body turned didn’t seem to look right to you, and your frustration started to grow inside of you until an idea sparked in your head.

you dropped to your calves and sat back onto your thighs, hips twisting to the left slightly as you flipped your hair to the side, pouted into the mirror and clicking the photo button.

the picture came out adorable, so you decided to press send to one of your girlfriends so they could see how it looked on you, and that’s when your eyes widened.

sent to my brit boyfriend 🤍.

you gasped, rapidly clicking the message in an attempt to delete it.

you and your lovely boyfriend had only been together a month. it wasn’t that you weren’t comfortable with him seeing you like this, but it was all so soon, and it wasn’t even on purpose. but it was too late, your frantic tapping was deemed useless when you saw that he had read the message, and now he was typing.

he quickly typed back, and your eyes gleamed with embarrassment as you texted him.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; Love, did you mean to send that to me?

you: i’m so sorry hobie….i didn’t mean to send you that, i was trying to send it to one of my girlfriends. you can ignore it.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You want me to ignore it? I’ll delete it if you didn’t want me to see it, it’s no problem darlin

you: no no, you can keep it if you like it…i don’t mind…i just didn’t mean to send it ugh this is embarrassing

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You look gorgeous..wasn’t gonna say nothin because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, but you look good as shit

you: ☺️ are you serious?? i just bought it & and i didn’t know if it looked nice…

my brit boyfriend 🤍; Thinkin’ it’ll look better on the floor but that’s jus my opinion

you: HOBIE.

my brit boyfriend 🤍; You asked for my opinion and I gave it to ya love, is there a problem?

you: no problem handsome… come over?

my brit boyfriend 🤍; On my way.

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 5 - Alexia Putellas x pregnant!reader

Summary: the world cup final holds some bumps and bruises.

Warnings: angst, blood, injury (all resolved don’t worry!!)

Notes: We pretend alexia played the full 90 of the final… and assisted the winner🤫and no R*biales situation. ALSO deepest apologies for how inactive i’ve been, i have been busy but… i’ve also been lazy i’ll try and be better from now on im sorry!! ❤️

⭐️My requests are open!

Other parts here!!

~~~~

Things had been a lot calmer since yours and Alexia’s phone call. The morning sickness and overall fatigue was ever present but the mind numbing arguing had subsided. Alexia still wasn’t overly impressed that you were still playing, as you were nearing the end of your first trimester. The management staff now knew about your pregnancy but after a medical checkup and lots of reassuring, they cleared you to complete the tournament.

The World Cup final was soon and you’d just finished the match that saw you get through. As the final whistle blew, relief flooded your system at the win.

“YES WE’RE THROUGH Y/N!” Screamed Mary, picking you up and hoisting you onto her back.

“I know I can’t believe it!!” You shouted back

The rest of the girls were celebrating as you remained on the goalkeeper’s back, her carrying you around like a carriage.

“Oi careful Mearps don’t want to damage the little princesa!” Bellowed Lucy, upon seeing you on her back.

You were pretty sure Alexia had threatened Lucy in some way in order for her to look out for you whilst Alexia couldn’t. You couldn’t go a day without the older brunette either piling extra food onto your plate, shouting at someone for touching you lightly or simply calling the baby “La princesa”.

——

Later that evening, you were splayed across Lucy’s bed, Alessia beside you as the two of you had decided to bombard the older girl until she agreed to let you come in. A Disney movie was playing in the background as you rested your head in Alessia’s lap, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on your small bump.

“Ughh why are my tits so sore!” You groaned

“I don’t think your wife would be too happy about me partaking in a conversation about your tits” joked Lucy sarcastically.

“oh shut up! Everything just hurts all the time now, my whole body just kills, especially after the matches” you whined.

“Old age feels the same” laughed Lucy.

“Well both of you are complaining an awful lot considering we only have the final to go, surely that’s exciting no?” added Alessia

“I mean sure it’s exciting but i’m not really looking forward to playing against my wife and half of our team”

“Yeah me neither honestly” agreed Lucy

“Ugh you’re both so miserable, we’ve made it to our first world cup final!” Alessia insisted

“I can’t wait to go home honestly” you began. “I mean obviously I’d love for us to win and this tournament has been incredible, but I just miss my wife and my dog” you explained, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh honey are you crying?” Alessia asked, pulling you into her embrace

“shut up i’m not crying” you huffed in disgust, causing alessia to squeeze you harder. “it’s the baby it’s not me” you sobbed

“look at that la reina is controlling you through her spawn even when she’s not here” bellowed lucy

“Piss off bronze” you sulked

———

Training leading up to the final was exhausting to say the least, and it really wasn’t helped by the helicopter parenting you got from half of the team, regarding the baby. The running joke of you “carrying the heir to the throne” caught on quick, even Sarina had played into it, which really didn’t help the teasing you were already receiving from the girls.

Alexia had managed to call you every day recently, inquiring after the health of her “princesas” and somehow managing to hover more than anyone, despite not even being there in person. That is how you found yourself, the day before the final on the phone to your wife, despite you both swearing not to speak to each other before the match.

“Yes Alexia i have been eating well” you huffed

“Are you sure mi amor? How is the sickness?” she replied

“Still exists but it’s definitely better now, it’s only in the morning so it’s not draining me quite as much.”

“That’s good bebita, how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Your wife questioned with a frown.

“Hey i thought we agreed, no football talk” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“sí but i couldn’t resist mi amor, it won’t leave my mind”

“i know Ale but just think, after tomorrow we’ll be together again, regardless of the result” you smiled

“i miss you so much” she sighed

“i miss you too baby” you agreed

———

Dinner that evening was tense, it was evident that despite the excitement in the air at the prospect of a world cup final, the anxiety levels were also high. Even Georgia who was infamous for her inability to keep quiet, was relatively subdued. A strange sense of dread overcame your body as you realised your little bubble would burst as soon as the World Cup was over. Which was not to say that that you didn’t miss your wife because you most definitely did but you knew that this would almost certainly be your last game of competitive football before the baby arrived which was bittersweet when you really thought about it.

“How you feeling darling?” Questions Mary, lightly bumping your hip as she passed her plate onto the chef to be loaded.

“Nervous but excited i think” you half laughed.

“You’ll be amazing, you’ve saved us multiple times in this tournament. I know how hard it’ll be to be up against her but you deserve it y/n! Celebrate that regardless of the result tomorrow”

“You always know what to say Mary” you smiled, bringing the older woman into a hug.

You hadn’t slept so well since the tournament has started, sometimes all that was needed was a friend.

The journey to the match saw you receiving a good luck text from many people, one of which being your mother in law. Although you knew she’d be supporting Spain, as would Alba, you knew that the pair would be proud of both you and Alexia regardless of the result.

——

The bus arrived at the ground after a short 30 minute drive, something you were thankful for as that pregnancy travel sickness was no joke. You were seated next to Alessia much to your delight, the younger girl had been nothing but supportive of you the entire tournament. Ella and Mary were sat opposite you two on the table, playing a rather competitive game of uno.

“You ready?” Alessia sighed as she stood up.

“As ready as i’ll ever be” you said, mirroring her sigh.

“LETS GO GIRLS!” Bellowed Ella, the brunette forever having no filter.

You stepped off the bus, only to be greeted by masses of fans behind the gates, waiting to cheer you in. Many of those fans were adorned in Spanish shirts, likely hoping to get a video of you, Lucy and Keira as you noticed a couple of them with Barça scarves around their necks.

You smiled as you high-fived the row of mascot children to your right, carrying a bottle of water in your other hand.

As you found your way to the changing room, the atmosphere started to sink in as you realised you were actually at a world cup final, something that 5 year-old you had dreamed of since the day your idols Ronaldinho and Rivaldo had stepped onto that same stage 21 years ago.

Pitch inspection was up next as you wandered beside your captain with her reminding you of formation and reassuring you of your importance to the team throughout the tournament. You looked across the pitch and saw the Spanish team doing the same thing, wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to go and greet them.

Lucy being Lucy, beat you to that thought as she bounded over in the direction of Ona and your recognisably pink-haired girlfriend. Alexia was adorned in a navy blue tracksuit that proudly (or rather not so) displayed the RFEF emblem on her heart.

You wandered over, slightly more carefully than your counterpart, locking eyes with your wife as she looked up from her phone. Her gaze softened as it met yours, the both of you knowing that a conversation would result in tears, no matter the nature of it. Instead, you chose a simple hug, a hug that said more than words ever could. One of her arms was settled on your back, the other reached gently over your hoodie to caress the small bump that formed there.

“I love you” she whispered softly in your ear.

“Te amo” you responded, before breaking the hug and wandering back over to join the rest of your teammates, knowing you both needed the focus before the match and any further interaction would have to wait for the sake of concentration.

Upon reaching the dressing room, you began to change into your warmup kit, placing your hands where your wife’s have been just moments ago and smiling.

“Starting to show are we?” Questioned Leah with a smirk

“Hmm yes a little” you smiled

“How do you feel seeing her?” She inquired after Alexia

“Honestly relieved to be with her again” you sighed

“Well that’s good darling, we’ve got a game to win now come on!” She cheered as she dragged you by the arm, onto the pitch.

——

You readied yourself into position, you spared a simple glance at your wife, knowing that regardless of the result today you would end up in her arms and that thought alone was enough to calm some of the nerves currently enveloping your body. You glanced into the stadium briefly, scanning the crowd where your gaze met your mother and sister in law, cheering frantically. You noticed that Alba was in fact wearing an England scarf on top of her Spain jersey, a detail that made you grin slightly at her love.

The game kicked off relatively fast paced with Spain holding much of possession but luckily the majority of that possession was through their defence and midfield and far from your backline. The actual tempo of the game was relatively calm with the majority of Spain’s attacking opportunities being closed down through the talented midfield and sharp defence that England possessed.

However this all but changed in the 29th minute as Lucy made a risky run out into the middle and you were torn between covering her and staying on Jenni as she’d positioned herself perfectly onside, ready to receive any loose ball that came her way and likely put it in the net, knowing the talented feet of the 33 year old. Ultimately you stood your ground with Jenni, calling on Georgia to come back and cover. Before Georgia could grasp what you were saying over the volume of the crowd, Spain had regained possession via Alexia as she slotted a pass of pin point accuracy across to Olga Carmona who running at full speed down the wing, the wing in which Lucy should reside. Damn Lucy Bronze and her spontaneous spurts of energy. Your legs moved faster than your mind as you raced across the pitch, attempting to thwart Spain’s promising attack but before you could get there, Carmona struck the ball with a perfection that many could only dream of. You watched as the ball soared across the goal, straight at the right post and hit the back of the net as Mary stretched out fully.

The save never came.

Everything went silent.

Spain had scored and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your ears tuned back into reality as you watched Olga lift her shirt to reveal a message in celebration, you watched as her teammates, including your wife, rushed to pile her into a group hug. You watched as your own teammates sauntered back to the half way line in despair, knowing that your decision to stick back could’ve been the decider that cost a goal in potentially the most important game of your career.

Despite all this, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside you as you saw Alexia, the look of pure passion and happiness on her face, a look you missed seeing when she played. Your wife had assisted the goal to put her team ahead in a World Cup final and despite it being against your beloved England, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of joy for the woman you loved.

——

Half time couldn’t have come any sooner as you wiped your brow and plodded off the field, exhausted from both the physical and emotional battles that the first half had brought.

The dressing room was tense, Sarina was in the centre of it offering a motivating team talk, a team talk you payed little attention to as all you could think about was how you selfishly hoped she’d pull you off at half time. You’d never ask to come off but if she did decide to take you off in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel you’d be happy for the rest as the pregnancy was seriously impacting your energy levels.

To your disappointment, your prayers were not answered and you were forced to likely endure another 45 minutes of football, despite the ache that persisted throughout your body. You gathered into the huddle of your teammates, just as the second half was about to commence.

“You alright y/n?” Asked Lucy, concern etched in her face

“Mhm just a little exhausted” you assured the older woman

“Well vamos chica let’s kick some Spanish ass!” Cheered Lucy, as the huddle broke up and everyone returned to their positions.

——

The second half started slowly with near enough no excitement, England has their chances throughout but none of them connected, hitting the crossbar or going just wide every time.

That didn’t stop Spain from fighting for a second all throughout, a second they might be coming close to.

Aitana dribbled through the English midfield as if they were cones in her training drill, leaving each one for dead and proceeding to boot in your direction. You met her run, using your body to shield your goal as she curved to the left, in an attempt to foil you but you stood your ground. Hands behind your back, body perfectly positioned as you blocked her powerful cross that would’ve found Jenni, unmarked in the box had it not been for your body. The ball went out for a corner as you let out a small sigh of relief which didn’t last long as you moved to mark none other than your wife on the edge of the box.

“Hola bebita” alexia grinned, in an attempt to distract you

“Shut up Putellas” you countered, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh from behind you, where her body was flush against your back, albeit a little softer than usual. Likely due to the precious cargo you carried.

Mariona aligned herself at an angle with the corner flag, holding one arm in the air to signal the corner routine.

A split second later she struck her foot to release the ball, a ball heading in your direction. You jumped and full power, in an attempt to beat a most definitely taller Alexia to the ball. Alexia jumper almost in sync, mind set on nothing but ensuring the ball reached the back of the net. However, neither of you made it to the ball and Alexia’s head collided sharply with the back of your head, causing a wave of pain to wash over you and your whole body to crumple forwards due to the shock, Alexia landing half on top of you.

You screamed out in pain as everything went black.

“Y/N!” Screamed Mary as she watched blood drip from your head.

“MEDIC NOW!” Yelled Lucy as the medical staff came rushing over to your unconscious form.

Alexia rubbed her head in pain as she sprung up at the commotion, met with the sight of her wife bleeding on the floor. Her pregnant wife, hurt, because if her. Reality kicked in at that moment.

“No no no no mi amor.” She pleaded “Lo siento, lo siento” she beckoned as she crouched down, eyes wide in horror at the sight in front of her.

She felt an arm grip her shoulder and pull her back and was met with the faces of Chloe Kelly and Lauren James as they shoved her away, screaming abuse in her face.

You’d regained consciousness as this point as the medics shone a light in your face and began assessing the wound.

“She’s pregnant” Mary announced to the medics, as they nodded with a look of pure worry that elicited a sinking feeling in the stomachs of those present.

Your teammates huddled close by, with concern present on all of their faces. Alexia fought her way back through pleading to you.

“Go away Alexia” was all you could manage before you slipped back out of consciousness.

Alexia’s heart broke at the sight, you blamed her, you thought she’d done it on purpose, shock set into her body as she watched in horror as the medical team loaded you onto a stretcher and stretched you off to medical.

“¡Quiero ir con ella!” Alexia demanded towards Vilda who shook his head and began lecturing her in Spanish. She protested consistently but eventually agreed to play the final 10 minutes, out of fear of punishment, not to herself by the younger players, should she argue any further.

The final whistle felt like an eternity later. Alexia having done nothing but fight the urge to run off the pitch in the final 10 minutes. Spain had won the World Cup but Alexia had no desire to celebrate with her team, all she wanted was to run to her wife and ensure you and the baby were okay. She was stopped by a firm grip on her hands as Vilda shoved her in the direction of the team. She shoved him right back, a moment she knew would be plastered all over social media later. A problem that could wait for the future.

As she was stopped again, Alexia spotted her mother in the crowd and signalled for her to find you and her mother did so, barging past security and into the tunnel.

Alexia slipped past everyone, ignoring the beckoning of the Spanish staff and bolted into the tunnel, knowing that the media would tear her apart later, calling her “cocky” “overrated” and “ungrateful” for her obvious disinterest in the trophy and general celebration but she did not care. The only thing on her mind in that moment was her family. No medal, trophy or football game was more important that you or her child.

After a frantic search she located you, accompanied by your medical staff and her mother and sister.

“Mi Estella, lo siento mucho” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes

“I know Ale you didn’t mean it” you mumbled weakly

“No of course not amor! Are you okay? El bebé? Is the baby okay?” She rambled, ignoring the look of pure shock on her mother and sister’s face.

“We’re running tests now, just prepping an ultra sound machine” informed one of the doctors, as he squirted a blue gel across the gentle curve of your stomach.

“I’m so sorry querida” tears were streaming now “I hurt you! I hurt our bebita” she spluttered cupping your face as you felt the doctor begin to move the probe over your stomach.

“Ale no it’s okay, i’m okay look” you gestured towards the ultrasound machine

A steady heart beat filled the room.

A grainy image of your baby filled the screen.

The baby was okay.

“Oh, gracias a Dios” her mother exclaimed, relieved at the health of her grandchild that she’d only learnt existed moments ago.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Yelled Alba

“Sí lo siento for not telling you both, I found out during the tournament, we’ve been trying for months” you smiled, tears in your eyes.

The ultrasound technician wiped the gel with a tissue before printing out several copies of the image.

Your wife was unbelievably silent, staring, mouth wide at the ultrasound.

“Alexia” you called

“Te quiero más que a nada” she breathed. “I’m so sorry mi amor, I’ve missed you so much” she placed a gentle kiss to your lips, squeezing your hands firmly with her sweaty ones, before she placed a second kiss to your bump.

“I’m so glad we’re together again mi vida” you replied with a smile, touching your foreheads together.

“I so hope it’s a girl so she can be alba junior!” Raved the younger Putellas sister

“ALBA!” Alexia and Eli retorted simultaneously.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading this series, please send any requests in my inbox and any feedback too i love you all <3

[sanska]

Hoenn is full of water and great starter pokemon, but alas Sootopolis is only full of magikarp. Surely the strangers here for their last gym badge would let me keep my lunch money?

Found some time to quickly sketch this out for @modmad ‘s pokemon starter challenge :) mod if you see this I hope you know TPOH and Skip blew my mind when I read them (and still do) thanks for inspiring me to try and make my art more fun!

My dream starter would probably be a vulpix or lampent, but realistically? A pidove or magikarp, both of which are still fantastic pokemon! I went with magikarp because I recently found out the blind ol’ behemoth of a koi fish living in my grandma’s koi pond is still alive. It’s been hiding under some rocks for months.

Every other koi from my childhood has reached the end of their lifespan but not this old thing! That fish is older than me and I’m convinced it will outlive all of us. If it was a magikarp it would definitely be a gyarados by now.

[zyonsay]

Js came back from a mental health break to see ZYON REQS OPEN !!! How about a Loscar x male reader smut? I don't know if you write for Logan Sargeant since you don't have him in your list so— 😭 if not you can change the driver to Lando I don't mind, but the three of them are drunk and playing drunk truth or dare and things take a turn - 🔥

I dare you LN4&OP81

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: A game of truth or dare between you, Lando and Oscar takes a turn...

Reader: Male

Warnings: Suggestive, NSFW, Dude-bro language, Horsegirl-ified reader because i said so

Now playing: 'Runway Walk' by Demrick

AN: Hey there! i FINALLY finished this and icl, not my best work. BUT i hope y'all can still enjoy this!

Loud chants echoed through the dimly lit bar. Your team members had picked you up and were now parading you around. The bar only had limited access to your equipe of elite show riders, a few close associates along with other familiar faces. Apparently, it was your lucky day, because your best friend finally had time to celebrate one of your many wins with you. Lando and yourself had been friends since diaper times and stuck together ever since. Even though you both were inseparable, your careers were demanding and didn’t offer you much time to hang out. He was now a rising F1 star, and you fought your way into prestigious show arenas, your schedules were now filled with training, media appointments and various other events. But, whenever you did find time to catch up, you always had a good time together. Not so recently he had introduced you to his teammate, and “friend”, Oscar. He’s a sweet guy, his smile felt like a little piece of sunshine and the swoop in his hair reminded you of gentle waves in the ocean. The chemistry between Lando and Oscar was kind of obvious, but you didn’t want to assume anything. That was until Lando had drunkenly admitted to his situationship.

The loud music boomed trough the doors as you stumbled out into the cold night air. Coordinating your wobbly legs while giggling uncontrollably was difficult. Very difficult. Lando had noticed your struggles and wrapped an arm around your waist while dragging you to the nearest bench. Maybe if you were sat, you wouldn’t fall on your face. A soft breeze blew trough the city and a slight shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t actually cold, just refreshing enough. Lando had also sat down by now and leaned his head back while closing his eyes. Your gaze flickered to him, the street lanterns painted the contours of his face in orange hues. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the poetic mood you’ve found yourself in, but now felt like the right time to tell him how you feel. You’ve always loved him, but you were also scared of telling him, or anyone for that matter. Besides. You two had very busy lives and barely got to see each other, so how would a relationship work out? But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Not when he was looking so beautiful. How do you say this? How do you confess your feelings without sounding like an absolute idiot. Gathering all your courage, your lips parted, and the first word was ready to leave them. “Y/n. I gotta tell you something.”, his eyes were still closed, and his head was still leant back. A frustrated sigh fell from his figure, and he shifted his seat. Now he was looking at you, God, those beautiful eyes. They were so sincere and looked like a fresh margarita at the beach. “I- “, his gaze avoided your own for a second before his eyes darted up to yours again. “I think I might be into men. Like in a gay way.” That was the most bro-dude way to say that, but it sure suits him. A small smile crept onto your face. “Thanks for trusting me.”, you grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Coming out to anyone is difficult, especially when you can’t predict how they’ll react. This was worth a lot to you.

“…and I sort of have a thing going right now,” Shit. SHIT. What? If it is some random dude, you swore to yourself that- “with Oscar.” Your brain must’ve short circuited right then and there. Your expression must’ve given your shock away, because Lando looked really worried all of a sudden. “…you okay mate?”, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Quickly, you need to react, otherwise he’ll think you’re a weirdo. “Yeah, totally.”, you gulped, “I just didn’t expect you to start something with your teammate.” Absently, he scratched his arm. “Yeah, i gotta be careful. You know, with PR and stuff.”

Obviously, Oscar is also attending the afterparty. As much as you wanted to dislike him for getting together with your crush, he was so nice that you’d feel like an asshole. As sour as the taste in your mouth was, you were happy for them. They seem to fit together really well, and you couldn’t be mad because your best friend’s relationship is working out, that’s just rude. Nevertheless, the little touches they shared filled you with jealousy. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Just so you know, I have your favorite white with me. In case you wanna celebrate some more later.”, you could basically hear the smug smile in Lando’s voice. Tempting. Maybe you weren’t feeling so sour after all.

Without much care, you left your shoes somewhere in the hallway, while leading Oscar and Lando towards the balcony. Usually when you were travelling around for competitons, you’d rent a hotel room, since there wasn’t really any point in staying longer than you had to. But for the finale of your season, you wanted to enjoy the beautiful city, before departing again. While your Horse was being flown back to your home country, you decided to rent a holiday home. It was relatively close to the coast, so you’d hear the lively waves when opening the windows. Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of shuffling cards. More specifically, a deck of UNO cards. Wait what. Why was he shuffling an UNO deck? Where did he even get that from?

“Nah dude, put that back down.” Lando slurred while lazily swatting Oscars hands away. Disgruntled, but indifferent enough, Oscar put the deck of cards back down. “Wild idea: lets revert back to seventh grade and play truth or dare.”, Lando’s face lit up at that. In his mind, he was already going trough all the evil dares he could make you guys do. “We’re literal adults.”, Oscar deadpanned. For a moment, it looked like Lando was thinking about something. “Well, let’s make things more interesting. Every time you pick truth or won’t do the dare, you take off one clothing piece.” He held up one finger, so it was clear that you wouldn’t be stripping completely naked in seconds. That’s an awfully odd request, but with the taste of wine still lingering on your tongue, you could care less. And so, it begun.

“Y/n, truth or dare?”, his intentions were pretty clear, but you wanted to toy with him for a little. “Dare.”, you took another sip of the fourth or fifth Bottle of white wine, that you three have been passing around like biscuits. “An easy one to start with, do a handstand.” Hah, that was a piece of cake. Scrambling off the rattan lounge, you readied yourself to do a handstand against the wall. A free-standing one might be a bit too confident in your current state. With a swift motion you hurled your legs into the air and banged them against the wall, while you did your best to not flop onto the floor. Considering how dizzy you were, you did a good job. “Impressive!”, Oscar giggled. There was nothing to laugh about, the bastard was up next. “Truth or Dare, Os?”, he was quick to answer. “Dare.” Bingo. As rarely as you and Lando got to catch up, he does talk about Oscar often. This man doesn’t even know hoe much you know about him. “I dare you to whistle.”, his smile faded. He was ninety percent sure you were aware of the elephant in the room. He sighed before pulling his shirt off. “I can’t whistle.”

Admittedly, this was much more fun than you initially thought it’d be. It must’ve already been something past midnight, but you guys were chatting away on the balcony. By now, your and Oscar’s shirts and socks had gone, while Lando was barely left in his briefs. “Truth or Dare?”, Lando intently looked at you. “Dare.” Now you’ve gotten yourself stuck in his trap. “I dare you to kiss me.”, now that made you stop in your tracks. “Dude, I’m not a homewrecker.” Oscar’s hickory eyes had a playful glint in them. “I’ll allow it.”, he leant against the backing of the lounge, readjusting his seat. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest. This is what you wanted for so long, but this feels taboo. Nevertheless, you leant forward and slid a hand behind your friend’s neck. Pulling him closer your lips met his and a contempt sigh left Lando. You felt Oscars eyes on you, they were burning holes into your skull. After all you were kissing his fling right now. The world seemed as if it was melting apart into a big mess of colors, but that all stopped when Lando gently pulled away. With slightly shaky hands, you settled back into a comfortable sitting position. “Oscar.”, he hummed, “Truth or dare?” He exaggeratedly tapped his finger against his chin. “Truth.” He now looked directly into your eyes. “Why didn’t you have a problem with me kissing Lando.”, his eyes widened at your question. For a moment he seemed to think for a good answer, but instead of speaking up, he glanced over at Lando. The brit loudly gulped, it sounded almost comical, before speaking up. “So, the thing is…” His, whatever Oscar was to him, tapped him on the knee, encouraging Lando to speak up. “I like you. Like in a gay way.” Dumbfounded, you shifted your gaze from Oscar to Lando and then back again at the pale Aussie. “And you’re ok with that?!”, you pointed your finger towards Oscar. “You see, we actually wanted you to... join our relationship.” His tone was unsure, and he kept searching Lando’s gaze.

Now you were officially flabbergasted. This must be a fever dream, right? There was no way this was real right now.

Obviously, it was, because now you were sat here with Lando kissing down your neck and Oscar pressed up behind you, squeezing your thighs, hips and waist. You leant your head backwards against Oscar’s shoulder, whining quietly. You whispered sharply, “I dare you to take those damn pants off.”, while fiddling with the buckle of his belt. Oscar chuckled lightly before slipping his pants off and propping himself up behind you again. Carefully, you reached behind you and felt his hard member in your hand. With gentle motions, you began palming him as best as possible. Lando smiled against your neck, his eyes darting up to meet Oscar’s gaze. His tanned hand tugged on your underwear before swiftly slipping underneath it. You gasped at the tight feeling of his hand around your dick. Slowly but surely, he started pumping up and down, meanwhile he continued his artwork of hickeys along your neck and chest bone. Not wanting to neglect his hard cock, you wrapped your hand around it and pressed your thumb over the tip. He exhaled sharply. Oscar leaned in close to your ear. “You wanna suck them?” Stuck in an endless loop of pleasure and torture, you could only whine as a pathetic attempt at an answer.

[surftrips]

PINK SLIPS | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse keeps her distance following the capture the flag incident.

word count: 1.1k

author's note: happy valentine's day week! here is my gift to you all, part two to shapeshift 💘💘

i. you blew me a kiss in the class that she skips 

Stacy used to never show up for archery practices, but recently, she had taken to accompanying you just to sit nearby and watch.

After the Capture the Flag incident, it seemed as though Stacy was around even more than usual. You liked her, you really did, she was your girlfriend, after all… but you also liked your alone time and space.

Speaking of space, Clarisse was giving you a lot of that lately. It’s not like the two of you were ever that close, but you thought that after she saved you, she would at least acknowledge you here and there.

Instead, Clarisse had been skipping practices and camp activities, so much so that a small pile of pink slips had begun to accumulate on her bedside table. (You heard this from a friend of yours who happened to also be in Ares cabin). 

After hitting the target once again, you looked over to see Stacy blowing you a kiss. You sighed, feeling sorrowful all of a sudden. You must have looked cold, because before you knew it, your girlfriend was running up to you and draping her sweater over your arms. “Here, sweet girl,” she smiled.

You smiled back, admiring the flawless makeup on her face and the way her hair fell perfectly down her back. Stacy’s eyeliner was always colored in the lines, sharp. 

ii. you write me love letters, while she gets pink slips 

For a child of Aphrodite, it was like every day was Valentine’s Day. So when you found a love letter addressed to you on your bed in the middle of July, you didn’t blink twice. Your heart, however, did skip a beat when you read “From your secret admirer…” 

Without hesitation, you ripped the envelope open and your eyes immediately darted to the signature at the bottom. “Xoxo, Stacy.” 

Your body relaxed and the rational part of your brain took over. What were you thinking? Of course, this letter was from your girlfriend, who you liked very much. You had very strong feelings for her. She was wonderful, and perfect, and nothing like–

You wouldn’t even let yourself finish the rest of your thought. That would be entirely unfair to Stacy, who had done nothing but smother you with love and affection since the two of you started going out. 

Okay, maybe smother wasn’t the best word for it. It wasn’t Stacy’s fault that her love language just happened to be grandeur and overbearing displays of affections, right? You should be grateful that at least you had someone. 

In theory, your relationship was all perfect. 

iii. but perfect’s never been my type 

“I don’t see what the big deal is, she’s just a friend!” you exclaimed, trying to explain to your girlfriend that you were going to hang out with another camper. 

“From the Ares cabin!” Stacy rebutted. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“She’s also in that cabin.” You paused, it would appear that you weren’t the only one that had been thinking about Clarisse. 

“Okay, that’s not fair. She saved me one time during Capture the Flag, it didn’t mean anything,” you shook your head, as if to force the memory of Clarisse’s eyes scanning your body out of your mind. 

“Oh, sure. And her suddenly disappearing around camp means nothing too?”

“Are you keeping tabs on her now?” 

“She’s not good for you, Y/N. She would never be as good to you as I am.” Stacy inched closer with every word that came out of her mouth. 

“Are you though? Good to me?” Every thought of Clarisse gave you the confidence to speak your mind. 

Stacy looked hurt, like she had taken a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re around, like all the time. I’m not saying I don’t like being with you, because I do, but now I can’t even hang out with my friends without you there? I need my space.”

If Stacy knew that there was something more you weren’t letting on, she didn’t show it.

“You want space? Okay, we’re done.” The next second, she was out of your cabin and running toward the forest. 

iv. i’m a sucker for the wicked  

Since the breakup, you had taken to embracing your newly reinstated alone time. Today was unusually warm, so you decided to soak in the sun by the water. After setting up your picnic blanket, now for one, you laid down and opened a book you had been meaning to start for a while. 

You didn’t get very far before a shadow cast itself over the pages, causing you to get up. “Hey, what are you—?” 

“Relax, pretty girl. It’s just me.” Clarisse smiled at you. You immediately sat back down. The two of you settled into quiet. 

You took the opportunity to admire her features. It had only been a few weeks since you were last face-to-face, but something about her had changed. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, or no– the way her eyes….

“How have you been?” She broke the silence. 

“Uh… good. And you?” 

“Not bad, I heard about the breakup.”

“Oh, thanks.” 

“I didn’t say sorry.” Clarisse grinned, but you could tell she meant it. “I never liked her very much.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Now, the two of you were laughing, together for once. You felt light, free, for the first time in months. The slight breeze made Clarisse's curls over her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

“You want an honest answer?” 

You nodded. You were tired of staring at your ceiling at night and wondering if there was ever anything between the two of you.

“After that Capture the Flag game, I realized that my feelings for you weren’t going away. But I also thought that Stacy wasn’t going away either, so I had to give you your distance. It was more for me, than anyone, I’m sorry if that was selfish.” 

“Clarisse…”

“You don’t have to say you like me back or anything, I know I’m not your type. But I don’t think I can move on without letting you know first–” 

“Clarisse,” you interrupted her. “Stop.” 

She stared at you with her brown eyes and smudged mascara. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this about Stacy, about anyone. Looking over to your side, you pluck a daisy out of the ground and carefully place it behind Clarisse’s hair. 

“I like you too, tough girl.” 

You make a mental reminder to make fun of her for blushing later, but right now, she looks perfect. You take advantage of her flustering and lean in to connect your lips with hers. 

Clarisse is fairly sure she’s made an eternal enemy out of Aphrodite now, but she couldn’t care less. She just leans in to deepen the kiss, biting at your bottom lip gently.

—

TAGLIST // @caroldrimor @ryujinraven @emlovesya @bookworm-center @vexiii-theog @alicentswhore @starssfall @m0th-creature @littlemiss-fanficlover @exactlycoralfox @abbofff @marve1stranger @b0ok-lover @phi4mars @lanad3lr3ysblog @emonopolyman @paodaca @daydreaming-in-olympus @solex-prince @quackitysdrugdealer @vfrhbcddt @frankie3974 @chvreu

[hotpinkashcrimson]

That post about Edgeworth's favorite music being Korean disco had me digging and not only was it TRUE from a fanbook interview but ALSO I learned the genre is specifically 'ppong-jjak', and I lost my fucking mind.

I need everyone to listen to this and know that this is the song ace prosecutor Edgeworth has in his ferrari sports car this is it

Edit: this post blew up AND EVERYBODY HAS BEEN DRAGGING ME WHEN IM A FAN OF PPONGJJAK SO ADDITIONAL CONTEXT: ppongjjak, or its real name, 'trot'; is a genre created during the Japanese occupation of Korea, and it has many musical influences from traditinal korean to japanese enka and even american/european folk.

It's a very long standing genre, so it has a very strong demographic of 40-80 year olds. So it's kinda what you would call boomer music I guess? Recently there's been a trot resurgence in Korea though!

Here's one of the songs that brought about the resurgence it's about socrates

Here's a good article I found if you're interested!

[muraar]

Precursor

Blissful fools or perhaps it was intentional on thier parts, but something existed between the two of you.

Jiyan x reader. Feat song: like you do- joji

Wc: 2k, gn!reader

Mentions of self-destruction?? i mean its nothing heavy, but the reader is implied to have a destructive resonance ability that causes damage to them as well. 

We're not beating the yearning allegations with this one 🗣🗣🗣

Moonlight seeped over the marred backdrop, bathed in the silvery incandescence, the previously war-torn land looked …serene. 

A quaint stillness presided over the expanse, an aftermath they ever ardently sacrificed for, a respite attained through blood and hardships alike. Vestiges loomed over in memories and corporeality alike, but this night, tonight, languid in its wake, made it all the more absolute what it is that they truly fought for. 

The air felt crisp and clean; a cool breeze blew from the west, carrying with it a scent of wood mingled with earthy dirt and the lingering trace of the campfire. The sky above, clear and bright, held no clouds and offered a magnificent display of stars scattered across the horizon, twinkling against the velvet black void.

 It wasn’t often that the General of the Midnight Rangers found himself in such a peaceful pace, so much so that he allowed his eyes to close momentarily, savoring the sensation before slowly opening them again.

The forested hillside stretched on as far as his eye could see, a dark blanket concealing most of the area beyond, though a few small lights dotted the landscape.

“Come here often?” 

Interposed in your mirthful voice, followed soon after by lazy footsteps as you approached him on a leisurely pace, taking measured steps and being mindful of the support sling over your contused left shoulder. Remnant from the recent clash with Overthrax, one that you hoped to don as a proud medallion one day. 

Startled slightly by the sudden intrusion into his thoughts, Jiyan turned around. His golden eyes met yours, reflecting a mix of surprise and relief at your presence. The moonlight played across his angular features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Despite the weight of recent events, there was a hint of warmth in his expression.

“[Name]”

He acknowledged, a faint frown etched on handsome feathers as he took in your oncoming figure 

“You should be resting” 

His tone was laced with concern that threatened to suggest more than just camaraderie, belying a fierce need to ensure your safety and well-being, which was countered with a light and easygoing chuckle of your own, its timbre reverberating against the tranquil backdrop of the night. 

“You worry too much” 

Came your smooth and curt reply, as you continued your trek toward the teal-haired man, taking nimble footsteps until you stood beside him. Eyes gazing over the expanse laid bare before you, one functional hand reaching out to grip the reinforced railing as you leaned your weight over the cool metal. 

Jiyan watched as you moved towards him, the ease of your gait suggesting a familiarity with pain that made his chest tighten.

“Worry is my duty,”

He responded quietly, turning his attention back to the breathtaking panorama before them

“And perhaps a personal failing.”

His eyes flickered towards you, tracing the curve of your profile against the dark skyline

“Only because you don't seem to worry nearly enough” 

A commonly used and familiar jab at the reckless abandon and lack of self-preservation that followed you every time you set foot in any physical confrontation. You shook your head and let out a sharp breath, smiling inwardly at being chastised like this; it's not like you voluntarily choose to have the resonance power associated with risks. But then again, research directed that resonator abilities were influenced by personal experiences and the subconscious. So perhaps….you weren't completely out of incrimination for these maladaptive tendencies. 

It would be amiss to deny the thrill you felt when your life was on the line, increasingly fluctuating odds fueling adrenaline-infused nerves. There was something incredibly exhilarating about self-destruction. Perhaps the way you could feel your heart racing whenever someone threatened you was a form of excitement, or maybe you were just addicted to the chase and had become so entranced by the thrill of danger you'd given up on ever feeling truly safe and secure-

“It's hard not to care.”

Stern words broke through your impromptu round of introspection and seemed to slip out involuntarily, carrying a weight that surprised even himself. There was another short pause, filled with both contemplative and thoughtful stillness, only broken by the soft rustle of trees against the night wind.

You stood still for just a second or so, facing the moonlight expanse, yet your mind was anything but focused on the twilit spectacle.

“I don't worry…because I don't have to” 

Maneuvering and turning your head slightly, your eyes met his protective depths of golden met with resolute ones of your own. The air seemed to be still, and time slowed even as the moment stretched on. 

“You worry enough for the both of us”

The words left your lips with such ease because, and it was easy, intuitive almost. Somewhere along the lines, along the countless battles faced side by side, it had become second nature for you. Blindly, irrevocably, heading first into the belly of the beast, you threw yourself into the gallows, tested the lines between this world and the nether relm, just like your forte circuit demanded of you.

Danger nipped at skin and mind alike. Each confrontation translated into an intimate play between you and death, and every time you bid farewell to her for a teal-haired anchor that tethered you to the land of the living. 

Was this what people defined as co-dependency? A reckless warrior and a general with concern ingrained into his very being? 

Breaking off the intense eye contact you looked down at the injured limb, cradled underneath meticulous bandage work.

“And I don't regret risking myself” 

The confession was resolute, perhaps careless even as the wind tussled through your wild locks, as if nature acknowledged your tempestuous nature. 

His gaze lingered on your face, studying the lines etched by time and trials, wishing he could somehow protect you from further harm while acknowledging the futility of such thoughts. His mind pondered after a moment's pause, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him.

“But there comes a point when caution becomes necessary for survival.”

He sighed deeply, hands clutching the railing a bit too forcefully.

“I don't want to see you hurt”

The unspoken plea hung heavy in the air between them, a testament to the depth of unspoken words.

“Careful there, General, you might just start graying with how much you stress out.”

Came your lopsided reply, cutting clean through the heaviness of the conversation at hand. 

Jiyan couldn't help but chuckle softly at your jest, the sound rolling off his tongue with surprising ease. Yet, the humor did nothing to dispel the underlying tension that seemed to permeate every aspect of their interaction.

“Better me than you” 

He admitted ruefully, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“But seeing you safe and well is worth every strand of gray.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the sincerity in those golden orbs impossible to miss.

An amused chuckle escaped unsuspecting lips, crescent crinkles emerged around your eyes as you entertained the notion just spoken of.

"That's...awfully sentimental. Tell me, have you been watching those hero plays?"

Using the moment of inquiry, you turned around unsoldierly, leaning back until your shoulder blades rested against the railing that had grown accustomed to supporting your weight.

Jiyan arched an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.*

“Hardly,”

He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just stating facts.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though the intensity in his gaze betrayed the casualness of his words.

“We've been through too much together for me not to care about your wellbeing.”

The admission hung heavily between them, punctuating the charged atmosphere with its weighty significance.

His words caused a soft smile to emerge upon your lips, as a foreign warmth bubbled beneath sternum and the organ that rested underneath.

"Been through enough to elicit care and worry...but not enough to have faith in my abilities?"

Jiyan's expression softened at your words, a flicker of guilt flashing across his features before being swiftly concealed behind a mask of stoicism. He leaned into your side, closing the distance between you two, until only a sliver of moonlight escaped from the rift between the parted lips. 

“I do have faith in your abilities,”

He said earnestly, meeting your gaze head-on.

“It's just...hard to watch someone so dear go through pain and suffering.” 

You let out a sharp breath; the air being forced out of your lungs as you felt your chest spasm and convulse, your demeanor tempered by the sheer discipline ingrained in your very being.

“Pain and suffering, huh?”

You mused as the conscious reeled through the twists and turns that led and shaped your life as it is today. 

The life you chose. 

Or was it the one fate forced you to tread on?

All these years on this planet and the real depths of your impulses eluded you still.

“They seem to be the staples of this life though...and better me than some poor innocent soul out there”

But at least there was reassurance that your hands of violence were good for something. At least there was consolation in the fact that your fists weren't merely tools meant to tear apart lives, they were weapons that protected. And if you were destined to die young in battle it was best to die doing your part. To die with honor, a worthy cause.

To die as someone who had earned the privilege of a life worth remembering.

Jiyan nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words.

“You're not wrong”

He conceded after a moment's pause.

“And I suppose it doesn't make sense for me to shield you from everything. And I'm aware of the irrationality of my sentiments. But know this - every time you're hurt or put yourself in danger, it feels like a part of me is ripped away.” 

His voice was heavy with emotion, belying the depth of his feelings for you.

“Then give it to me” 

Words rolled past your lips with no premonition of consideration behind them, instinctual, thoughtless. 

"Join that part with me," 

Your voice a brazen whisper, its emergence a stark act of rebellion against modus vivendi dictated by logic alone. 

"so that it's never ripped away again."

Those words imitated a dare, challenging fate and hearts alike. 

Jiyan's heart raced as he gazed deeply into your eyes, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily upon his soul. A thousand unspoken promises danced between them, their connection forged by shared experiences and a bond that transcended mere camaraderie. Something primal stirred within him - an ancient longing that transcended reason and logic alike.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned forward slowly until his lips brushed lightly against yours. 

“I want to be connected to you…more than anything”

He whispered hoarsely against your mouth, feeling a surge of heat course through his veins at the contact. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt the warmth of your breath ghost across his face, the tantalizing scent of your perfume filling his senses.

Just as lips were about to touch, a shrill beeping sound pierced through the silence. Both of them froze mid-movement. Their Pangu terminal vibrated on both ends. The holographic screen flashed with an urgent message from the city: Incoming threat detected.

The spellbinding moment shattered like fragile glass underfoot, scattering fragments of desire and passion across the floor. Leaving them both gasping for air like fish out of water. Jiyan blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the lingering effects of their near-kiss.

The message was clear: duty called.

Without another word, he turned to face you fully – only to find that you had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a gentle tussle of wind and torn bandages, in your wake.

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

a/n

Jiyan convene fucked me over so badly. i cannot even tell you, because its downright embarrassing.

just know that i have him now, somehow.

mans not getting any happy ending from me 😒😒😒. Keep pining and yearning you mf !!! YOU AINT GETTING LAID !!!

[seat-safety-switch]

Sure, you can buy any number of "labour-saving" machines. You won't have to work as hard, the greed-heads selling them to you claim. When they break down, just buy another one. I feel that this mentality discards society's most useful members: weird idiots who really like fixing things.

Here's an example for you. Recently, I found a busted-ass old dishwasher in the alley. Do I already have a working dishwasher? Kind of. Did I think that it was a super tiny problem and I'd be able to get this second dishwasher banging away in no time, ready to do essential life-improving tasks like – uhhhhh – wash suspension components prior to painting? You bet.

Normally, I would just spritz this stuff with the garden hose, then leave it out in the backyard until I hyperfixated on "I gotta paint something real soon or I'll die." That sounded like a lot of work, and a dishwasher is meant to save that work, so I quickly set about spending several hours understanding the intricate mechanisms on view inside the mind of the fucking asshole who engineered this thing in the first place. Like, seriously bro? A filter this size? It won't trap 75W90, with or without friction modifier. You might as well just pull it out. No wonder the pump blew up trying to strain these mouldy old chunks of potato that got stuck in it.

Once I'd burned a couple evenings of intense labour on the dishwasher, I decided that it wasn't really worth the effort after all, and kicked it to the curb after salvaging what little scrap metal I could from the pile of junk that remained after I finished smashing it with the entire contents of my toolbox and jumping up and down on the front panel in a childlike rage. My suspension components remained unwashed – that's okay, I don't even need to paint them, they'll just rust – but I felt that I had productively spent my time and learned a lot about why I shouldn't try to fix dishwashers I find in the alley.

Just imagine all the projects I didn't start because I was busy doing this! That's almost an infinite amount of work saved, which means it was all worth it.

[bad268]

maybe a kimi antonelli x reader oneshot where the reader is a journalist and kimi and her fall for each other?

love your stories!

The Exclusive (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Journalist! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (thank you love! I had fun with this <3 I used to be a journalism major so it was fun going back to my roots lol)

Warnings: Aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1067

Summary: The exclusive interview with Kimi.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Right now, it was just a hobby. A little blog you started before college that then turned into a podcast and full-blown career. At least, that’s what it was looking like.

You started writing about the Formula 1 feeder series’ years ago because you wanted to give a platform to the smaller categories, and it blew up. It also blew your mind that these people who were around your age were already getting their feet in the door to the pinnacle of motorsport. You also had a knack for writing, so reporting on the drivers’ and the series’ themselves proved to be easy for you.

Soon enough, you started getting invited on behalf of different teams to interview their drivers. Mainly Prema, ART, Van Amersfoort, and MP Motorsport, but they were the biggest teams in each category, so it made sense.

The first time you went to the track was with Van Amersfoort in 2021. There was a race at your favorite track of Red Bull Ring, which you had mentioned on the blog at one point, so they invited you. You had heard of a new driver joining one of the teams, but since it was not Van Amersfoort, you did not plan to do a deep dive until after the race weekend.

You were running through the garages, looking for your iPad, so you could interview Oliver Bearman, the championship leader. Plus, you were already a guest in their garage. Might as well capitalize on it.

You finally found it, so you pulled out your microphone from your backpack as you walked down the pitlane. Most of the drivers were getting the track limits rundown from the stewards, so you knew Ollie would be free after the meeting.

Almost as if it were planned, you ran into someone while you were distracted. Looking up from where you dropped the microphone and a paper with the questions you had for Ollie, you’re met with a brown-eyed, curly-haired boy, and you're a goner.

You couldn’t help but stutter out an apology, but funny enough, he was doing the same. When you both finally stopped stuttering out apologies, he said, “My name’s Kimi.”

You told him your name, and the rest was history.

There was an unspoken rule that from that moment onward, mainly because you two became official not long after. You were only a guest of Prema. It was just a joke that Kimi made up, saying he would crash if you wore any other team’s merch on a race weekend. Sure, you did not believe it, but it’s not like you had anything against wearing your boyfriend’s team merch.

It also meant that you got exclusive Kimi Antonelli interviews whenever you wanted, and you would ask (manipulate) Kimi into messaging any driver you wanted to interview. There was one interview that boosted both of you into the ranks of motorsport.

~~

“Kimi,” You said simply as soon as the podcast started.

“Y/n,” He repeated back as he looked at you over the microphone. You had recently started recording the podcasts to be posted to YouTube after being told to do it by Clement Novalak. He had a successful podcast, so you thought you better listen to his advice.

“2023 Formula 2 Champion has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”

“It does, yeah,” He laughed.

“Good, it would suck if you didn't,” You muttered into the microphone. “Anyways, I know this already because I’m cool, but I think my viewers should get the exclusive. Kimi, where will you be going next year?”

“I'm still racing,” He knew that was not what you were asking, but he’s been on enough of your podcasts to know that your fans love the banter.

“No shit, Sherlock,” You deadpanned with a dry laugh. “I mean what team will you drive.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He teased, eyeing you from his place across from you.

“I already know, and if you don’t spill the beans, I’ll say it,” You threatened. “I’ve got your PR manager on speed dial, so don’t even try to threaten me with Sophie.”

“Fine, I guess I’m going to Mercedes,” Kimi sighed in mock hurt, but you knew it was all for show.

“How does it feel to be teammates with the George Russell and share a grid with the guy who introduced us again?”

“Ollie did not introduce us, don’t get the story messed up,” Kimi accused as he leaned forward on the couch, causing you to do the same. “You and your clumsiness is what got us to meet.”

“Oh, please! You were a stuttering mess, too. Do not put all the blame on me!”

“I never said I was blaming you!”

“It sounds like it!”

“Why are we arguing about how we met? We are both saying the same thing!”

“You’re right,” You said normally as you leaned back on the couch before whispering, “for once,” Into the microphone. You looked up at Kimi as he also sat back. “Anyways, now that we’ve settled you’re going to Mercedes, what track are you most excited for?”

“Monaco,” Kimi said immediately.

“How did I know you would say that?”

“Probably because I told you this a couple of days ago when you tested this question on me, and I answered Singapore, but you said that wasn’t good enough.”

“Hey, don’t expose me on my own podcast here!”

“Ok, my answer is Singapore,” He changed his answer as he raised his eyebrows at you, almost asking you to dispute his answer.

“I’ll cut this out,” Spoiler, no you did not. “But I don't think that’s the right answer.”

“What do you mean?” KImi gasped as he laughed in disbelief. “It’s my answer!”

“What is so special about Singapore? It's literally just hot, that’s it!”

“Well, yes, but-” Kimi tried but was cut off by your laughing. Eventually, you died down, and he continued, “The atmosphere is insane.”

“The atmosphere is also insane in Monza or Red Bull Ring but ok.”

“I’ve raced there.”

“Oh! I didn’t even think about that!”

“You thought I would prefer a track that I’ve already driven and won at?”

“I forgot the implications of my own question,” You giggled at yourself. “Anyways, I think that’s enough for today’s episode. The blog post will be up tomorrow, and the video will be up by Sunday. We’ll see you on the track!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

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