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theonottsbxtch · 8 months ago

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PRIVATE | LN4

an: requested by @bhuijnbhuijn-blog this was so fun to make! it feels to good to make a smau after a few days of straight writing

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

yourusername

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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userone: seeing her live changed my brain chemistry

usertwo: oop- the flowers?

userthree: god she is stunning

yourbestfreind: mi amorrrrrr

yourusername: chiquita 😽

userfour: beloved??? has our man hater girl got herself a boyfriend

ekat19: hermosa

yourusername: ethan, basta.

userfive: is her beloved carl gallagher?????!??!?!?!?

appartment in monaco

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs dangling as you watched Lando move around the open kitchen. The soft click of cabinet doors and the muted thud of a cereal box landing on the counter are the only sounds, apart from the faint music playing from your speaker. It was your calm playlist, just background noise, a playlist you curated 100% but one Lando pretended he created to wind you up. He didn’t mind—he hummed along sometimes, absentmindedly, just like now. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more private, more intimate.

Lando was shirtless wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was a version of him few people ever get to see. No fireproof suit, no helmet. No world watching his every move. Here, in this quiet corner of your shared world, he was just... him. And you loved him like this, more than anything.

As he fumbled with the coffee machine, you leant back on your hands, your fingers curling against the cool granite of the counter. The smell of coffee mingled with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. You were both settled into this comfortable rhythm of being together, the kind of domesticity that felt almost foreign when you thought of your lives outside these walls—your career, his racing, the flashing lights and the fans.

But here, it was different.

You’d been thinking about it for a while now. The thought had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, and today felt like the right time to broach it. Or maybe it was just that the stillness of this moment made you feel brave. You took a breath, voice soft as you broke the quiet.

“I’ve been thinking…” Your words drift into the space between you, casual but with a certain weight that you know will catch his attention. Lando looked over at you, coffee cup in hand, waiting for you to continue. You smiled, trying to keep it light. “Maybe it’s time we go public… on Instagram.”

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking on yours as if he was trying to read your face, gauge how serious you were. Slowly, he set the cup down on the counter, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that meant he was already thinking too much.

“Public?” he repeated, like he was testing the word, feeling it out. His voice was calm, but you could sense the undertone of concern, the hesitation that came with anything that involves exposing more of your lives to the world outside. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, even though you knew he was not just asking for the sake of it. There was more behind his question than the words. It was not just a simple post to him—it was a line you were crossing, a step into a world he was all too familiar with, and not in a good way.

“I am,” you said softly. “We’ve been so careful, keeping things private, but… I don’t want to hide us anymore. I don’t want to pretend we’re not a part of each other’s lives.” You watched him as you spoke, searching his face for any sign of agreement, but he was still quiet, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting somewhere just past you.

Lando shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the granite, a telltale sign that his mind was working through what you’d just said. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his curls, the kind of movement that let you know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice softer now, but there was still a trace of reluctance. “But… it’s different for you. Your fans, they’re supportive. You’re already used to the attention. My world… it’s not like that. It can get ugly fast. And once we put it out there, it’s out there. We can’t take it back.”

You slid off the counter and moved toward him, your bare feet silent on the floor. Standing in front of him, you reached for his hands, threading your fingers through his. “I know, love. I know how hard it can be for you. But I’m not asking for some big, dramatic reveal. Just something simple. A photo. Something that feels like us, something quiet.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the protective instinct he’d always had when it came to the life you’d built together versus the part of him that wanted to trust in your strength, in the fact that you could handle it.

“I don’t want them coming after you,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to you. “I don’t want you to deal with the kind of hate I get.”

Lifting one hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb grazed over his skin. “I’ve been in the public eye for years now. I’ve had my share of negativity, too. But we’ve got each other, right? We can handle it. I can handle it.” You paused, letting your words sink in. “And I’m tired of hiding something that makes me so happy.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to imagine what it would be like—the backlash, the media storm. But when he opened them again, there was something softer there, a quiet surrender. He still looked hesitant, but there was an acceptance in his expression now, like maybe, just maybe, he was willing to trust you on this.

“A photo,” he repeated, his voice almost resigned but not unkind. “Something simple.”

You nodded, your smile growing. “Just one.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You really want this, huh?” His voice was a little lighter now, though you could still feel the weight of the decision lingering between you.

“I do,” you murmured into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean and warm, like home. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just something that feels like us. Something honest.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Alright,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “But if it all blows up in our faces, you’re the one dealing with the PR disaster.”

You laughed, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.” You leant up and kissed him, your lips brushing his with a gentleness that said more than words ever could. “Promise.”

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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maxfewtrell: sick hoodie where's it from

landonorris: secret 🤫

userone: he is so HOT

usertwo: my man my man my man

quadrant: that helmet 👌

userthree: why is this man at so many concerts gah damn

userfour: i don't want to sound crazy but...

userfive: LET'S GO LANDO

yourusername:🤘🤘

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yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool but he's not as cool as me

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userone: NO WAY

yourusername: YES WAY

usertwo: i did not expect this one icl

userthree: i- speechless

userfour: HER BOYFRIEND IS LANDO NORRIS

yourbestfriend: cutest couple ever

yourusername: te amo

userfive: oh to be yn

landonorris: i love you

yourusername: i love you more

usersix: she's so hot

userseven: defo cooler than lando

ekat19: damn, he stole my bitch

yourusername: ethan.

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appartment in monaco

It had been a few weeks since you had gone public, and the house felt the same. The kitchen still smelt like coffee in the afternoons, and Lando’s laughter still echoed through the rooms. But outside, in the world that wasn’t contained by these walls, things had shifted.

The first few days after you had posted that picture—a simple, candid shot of you two tangled on the couch, laughing at something neither of you can remember now—felt like a blur. Your Instagram blew up instantly, flooded with comments, some gushing, some not so kind. The had media picked it up, headlines spun their usual stories, and of course, his world—Formula 1, with its intense, relentless scrutiny—had its own opinions. Most of it was harmless, but some of it... wasn’t.

Lando was standing in front of the window, staring out at nothing in particular. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense, from the way his hand kept moving to rub the back of his neck, that something had been weighing on him. He’d been quieter these last few days, not in the way that shut you out, but in the way that let you know he was overthinking, worrying about things he didn’t need to.

You were sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through Instagram, but your attention was on him. You watched as he checked his phone again, probably seeing another headline or some new wave of comments. His jaw tightened, and that was when you knew it’s time to say something.

“Lan,” you called out softly, trying to break the tension in the room. “Come over here.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether to pull you into his worry or let it be, but then he walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the wooden floor. He sank down beside you on the couch, letting out a long, tired breath. His arm came around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you closer, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Talk to me,” you said gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, he just stared at the floor. “I’ve been seeing some of the comments,” Lando admitted, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep it casual but couldn’t quite manage it. “There’s a lot of hate. A lot of people saying… awful things. About you, about us.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this for you.”

You felt his arm tighten around you, like he was trying to protect you from something that was already out there, something he couldn’t control. It broke your heart a little, the way he carried that weight, like he was responsible for every cruel word thrown your way.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face him, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “But, darling, it’s not getting to me. Not even a little.” You smiled, trying to get him to see the truth in your eyes. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that people are going to say whatever they want. But they don’t matter. You do.”

He finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed, still sceptical. “But some of it’s brutal,” he insisted, his voice tight. “They’re dragging you through the mud just because we went public. I didn’t want you to deal with this part of my life, the ugly part.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and the sound seemed to catch him off guard. “Honestly? I’ve dealt with worse. You should’ve seen the comments I got after that one music video,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease his worry. “But this? This is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but you could see him trying to process what you were saying, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of his own guilt. So, you decided to prove it to him in a way you knew would get through that thick head of his.

With a sly smile, you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, your fingers moved quickly over the screen as you pulled up your account. He watched you, confused, until you glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it, then you tilted the phone toward him so he could see the tweet you’d just typed out. In bold letters, it read:

"how i sleep knowing i get to sleep with this hunk of a man at night and you don’t "

Below the text was the picture you’d been sitting on for a while—one of him sleeping in the paddock last season.

His eyes widened as he read it, then flicked to the photo. “You’re not serious,” he said, though there’s a laugh hidden in his voice now.

“Oh, I am very serious,” you said, grinning at him as you hovered over the “Tweet” button. “If people want to hate, let them. But I’m going to remind them who I get to come home to every night.”

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, a small, incredulous smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrugged, your finger tapping the button before he could say another word. “It’s out there now,” you said, holding up the phone in triumph. “Let them come for me.”

He leant back against the couch, running his hands over his face, but you could see the way his shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension ebbing away. He laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and it warmed you from the inside out. “You’re actually insane,” he said, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “Sweetheart, they can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, the worry in his eyes faded completely. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words soft but full of meaning.

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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landonorris: te amo x

yourusername: amore

ekat19: i remember when we used to have matching shirts...

yourusername: ETHAN. BASTA.

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i have the coolest girlfriend ever 🤭

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comment if you want to be tagged in future works x

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psformybss · 2 months ago

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Paws and Promises

series masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader

warnings: fluff, established relationship, soft domestic vibes, excessive cuteness

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of their Charleston kitchen, warm and golden, just like everything had felt since the move. It was quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee machine and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath Drew’s bare feet.

He handed Y/N her favorite mug, filled almost to the brim, just the way she liked it.

“Okay,” he said, voice still low and scratchy from sleep. “So… we officially own this house.”

Y/N turned from where she was scribbling in her planner at the kitchen island, her lips curling into a smile. “You make it sound like we just picked up groceries.”

“I mean, we did sign a mountain of papers and give away our souls, but yeah,” he said, sliding into the stool next to hers. “No big deal.”

She laughed, nudging his knee with hers under the counter. “I’m just excited we don’t have to sign anything else. It’s ours. For real.”

Drew smiled at her, soft and slow. “It already felt like home with you in it.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Cheesy.”

“True,” he countered.

They sat in the quiet for a moment, sipping coffee and watching the soft light spill across their new countertops. Their moving boxes were half-unpacked in the next room, and the faint scent of fresh paint still lingered from the weekend project Drew had insisted on finishing before he had to be back on set.

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her mug. “So, I was thinking…”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “That’s usually dangerous.”

“Rude.” She tried to hide her smile, failing miserably. “You remember what you promised me?”

His expression shifted into something teasing. “If this is about the backyard hammock, I said eventually—”

She groaned and stood and slid into his lap. “No, smartass. I’m talking about this promise.” She pulled out her phone and tapped to show him a screenshot. It was a golden retriever puppy from the shelter’s Instagram page, floppy ears and big brown eyes melting into the camera.

Drew tilted his head. “You bookmarked it?”

“I’ve had a folder of dogs for the last year, don’t act surprised.”

He stared at the photo, then looked up at her. “You wanna go today?”

Y/N blinked. “Wait… really?”

Drew smiled at how her entire face lit up. “We’ve got the house. I’ve got the day off. Let’s go meet him.”

The drive to the shelter was a mix of excited chatter and soft music playing through the speakers. Y/N read the details from the puppy’s post—male, golden retriever, about nine weeks old, and sweet as can be.

“He’s got a little heart-shaped patch on his nose,” she added, showing Drew the zoomed-in photo again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head—but he was smiling the whole time.

When they arrived, the woman at the front desk greeted them with a warm smile. “You’re here about the golden retriever, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded eagerly. “We just bought a house and… well, it felt like time.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “He’s been a favorite around here. Come on—he’s in the back.”

The second they stepped into the room, Drew heard it: the tiny thump-thump of paws against the tile and a soft yip. The puppy was already at the edge of the enclosure, tail wagging like crazy, as if he knew.

“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, clutching Drew’s arm. “He’s so much cuter in person.”

Drew crouched beside the gate and opened it slowly. The puppy made a beeline for him, stumbling over his own feet before crashing into Drew’s lap with an excited squeak.

“He picked you,” Y/N said softly, dropping down next to them.

The puppy licked Drew’s chin before collapsing dramatically onto his back, inviting belly rubs. Drew laughed, rubbing the soft golden fluff. “I think we’re done looking.”

“Alright,” the shelter employee said with a warm smile, setting the final adoption form on the desk. “Sign right there, and Teddy is officially yours.”

Y/N squeezed Drew’s hand under the table, her grin wide and glowing as she picked up the pen.

“We’re doing it,” she whispered, practically bouncing in her seat.

Drew smiled down at her, watching as she signed her name with a little heart at the end. He leaned in as she passed the pen to him.

“Should I draw a paw print instead of my signature?” he joked.

“Please don’t get us flagged by the shelter,” she laughed.

He signed quickly, and when the employee clapped her hands together and slid them a folder of Teddy’s vet records, Y/N let out a quiet gasp of joy.

“Congratulations!” the woman said. “Teddy’s all yours. We’ll grab his blanket and favorite toy for you.”

Teddy was currently passed out in Drew’s lap, paws twitching like he was already dreaming. Drew looked down at him, gently smoothing a hand over the soft golden fur. “You’re coming home, little dude.”

Y/N was already mentally organizing the next part of the plan. “Okay, we need food, a bed, a crate, toys—oh my god, so many toys—a collar, leash, bowls—”

“Should we just bring the whole shelter with us?” Drew asked dryly.

She shot him a look. “You promised me a dog. That promise included spoiling him.”

The pet store was a sensory overload—colorful squeaky toys, endless aisles of food, and several other people with their own dogs in tow. Y/N was a woman on a mission, pushing the cart like she was on Supermarket Sweep.

Drew followed behind her, holding Teddy (who had been carried in like royalty), one brow arched as he watched her toss item after item into the cart.

“Babe,” he said, lifting a rope toy with a giant giraffe head attached to it, “does he need a jungle-themed tug-of-war set?”

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat. “That’s the cutest one.”

Drew looked into the cart. “He’s got five toys already.”

“He’s a baby, Drew. He’s going to get bored.”

“Baby, you got him the plush lobster, the squeaky donut, a set of tennis balls, and a talking monkey.”

“He likes options!”

Drew tried to keep a straight face but failed. She was too cute when she got like this—eyebrows raised, lips pursed in determination, completely serious about spoiling their new puppy like he was royalty.

She turned to him with a bright pink food bowl that said “Goodest Boy” in glittery letters.

He blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“It matches his vibe.”

“His vibe?”

She held it up next to Teddy’s face. “Tell me he doesn’t look like a goodest boy.”

Teddy yawned in Drew’s arms and let his tongue flop out.

“…Damn it,” Drew muttered. “He kinda does.”

By the time they got to the checkout line, the cart was full. Not just full—overflowing. Y/N had added a fluffy dog bed, two kinds of treats (“He needs to sample!”), grooming supplies, puppy training pads, and a little raincoat that had paw prints on the hood.

“I blacked out a little,” she admitted, biting her lip as she glanced at the total on the screen.

Drew laughed, handing over his card. “It’s fine. We’ll just cancel Netflix and live off peanut butter for a while.”

“I bought peanut butter for Teddy, too,” she added innocently.

He gave her a long look, then glanced down at the puppy curled up in his arms.

Teddy sneezed softly and blinked up at him with those big brown eyes.

“…Okay. He’s worth it.”

“Told you!”

By the time they pulled back into the driveway, the sun was dipping low behind the trees, casting long shadows over the porch. Teddy nestled in the back seat, yawning every few seconds.

Y/N carried him inside, whispering softly as she showed him around. “This is your new home, Teddy. Living room’s over there, kitchen’s full of treats, and that blanket? Yeah, it’s yours now.”

Drew stood by the door, watching them. The sight of Y/N holding the tiny dog, beaming with a mix of wonder and contentment, tugged at something deep in his chest.

“I think you love him more than you love me,” he teased.

She looked up. “It’s a close call.”

Teddy made a soft snuffling sound, curling up on the blanket they laid out for him. Y/N dropped onto the floor beside him, tucking her legs under herself as Drew sat behind her and pulled her into his lap.

“You’re really happy,” he said quietly.

“I really am,” she replied. “This house. This little family. It’s everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Drew pressed a kiss to her temple. “Same here.”

They sat there for a while—no cameras, no scripts, no set calls. Just them. Just home.

And Teddy, their golden boy, snoring softly beside them.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

an:

i love them so much 🥲

also i have one draft left and im lowkey out of ideas so if anyone has any plssss send in a request.

#drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey obx #obx #rafe cameron x oc #drew starkey #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe

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atlasthegreatest · 24 days ago

Text

Mine / Daniela Avanzini x Gender Neutral! Reader

Daniela had a habit of stealing her partners shirts, liking how big they looked on her. But when Y/n tried to steal one of their girlfriend shirt to get back at her, they didn’t knew how much it would affect her.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive. Possessive Daniela. Fluff. Established relationship.

Word count: 1186

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

It had become a running joke between Y/n and Daniela—how she had slowly, sneakily stolen nearly all of their comfiest oversized shirts.

It started with a faded band tee that mysteriously vanished one night and reappeared on her Instagram story two days later. Then it was Y/n’s university hoodie, favorite flannel, and even that sleep shirt they swore nobody else wanted. Daniela would just grin when confronted, swimming in fabric, sleeves drooping past her hands, and say, “What’s yours is mine, right?”

Y/n didn’t mind. If anything, it was kind of cute. Okay, really cute.

But today, they decided to get even.

The sun filtered in through the bedroom window as Y/n rifled through Daniela’s closet, finally pulling out a tight, cropped tee with a rhinestoned butterfly on the front. Y/n was not Daniela’s size—but that was the point. The shirt clung to their chest, their midriff fully exposed, and the sleeves barely reached their biceps. Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, smirked, and called out: “Revenge is served.”

When Y/n stepped into the kitchen where Daniela was eating cereal at the counter, she choked.

“Is that my shirt?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Sure is,” they said smugly, spinning dramatically. “You’ve taken all my clothes. I figured I’d borrow one of yours.”

Daniela stood, mouth slightly open as she took Y/n in. Her expression shifted—first shocked, then amused, then… possessive.

“You’re not going outside like that,” she said flatly, stalking over.

Y/n blinked. “Why not? You go out in my clothes all the time.”

“Yeah, but your clothes don’t turn heads like this.” Her eyes raked over her partner before narrowing. “Absolutely not. Nope. Mine.”

Y/n grinned. “Getting jealous, Avanzini?”

The Latina woman crossed her arms and tilted her head, stepping into Y/n’s space with that smug smirk they knew too well. “Maybe. Maybe I don’t want people checking out my partner in my shirt looking like they just walked off a fashion thirst trap.”

Y/n leaned forward, brushing their nose against hers. “So what, I stay home?”

“No,” she said, curling a hand around Y/n’s waist. “You wear something less distracting. Or I’m not letting you out of the apartment. At least not until I’ve had my turn admiring.”

Y/n laughed as she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek. Then another, just under their jaw.

Y/n may not have won the shirt war—but judging by Daniela’s flustered glare and tight grip on their hips, they won something.

Daniela wasn’t playing around.

Y/n tried slipping past her, still in the too-tight butterfly crop top, but her reflexes kicked in. One second they were reaching for their keys, the next the Latina had one arm around their waist and the other tugging down the hem of the shirt as if that would somehow make it less revealing.

“Daniela,” Y/n laughed, trying not to trip over the woman as she herded them away from the door like a flustered sheepdog. “It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, it’s serious,” she said. “There’s a breeze out there. You’re going to catch a cold. Or worse, attention.”

“I always catch attention with you around,” Y/n teased, giving her a wink. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

The Latina woman narrowed her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not jealous,” she insisted, even as she fumbled to hand Y/n one of their shirts from the laundry basket. “I’m… territorial.”

Y/n snorted. “Right. And this shirt is your territory?”

“No,” Daniela said, pulling them closer by the waistband of the tiny crop top. “You are.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by a quiet warmth between the two of them. Daniela’s fingers brushed their side gently. “You look hot,” she admitted, soft now, lips brushing their temple. “Too hot. I don’t want to have to fight people at brunch.”

Y/n leaned into her, their forehead resting against hers. “So I change?”

Daniela shrugged, still close. “Or we stay in.”

Y/n laughed, pushing her lightly. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m yours,” she said with a grin, walking off with Y/n’s keys in one hand and their pride in the other.

And when Y/n finally gave in and changed, Daniela wore that tiny butterfly shirt around the apartment the rest of the day just to rub it in—looking unfairly good, humming to herself, and reminding them again and again that two could play the possessive game.

Y/n just wasn't sure if they wanted to anymore… because she always won.

Bonus Chapter:

Later that evening, with a takeout order half-eaten on the kitchen counter and music playing softly from their shared speaker, Y/n found Daniela curled up on the couch—still wearing their hoodie and her victorious butterfly crop top underneath, peeking out when she stretched.

Y/n walked in holding two mugs of tea, watching her flick through a playlist, her curls messy and her makeup long worn off. The tension from earlier—the playful tug-of-war, the jealous teasing—had melted into something quieter. Something that hummed under their skin.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n said, handing her a mug, “you win the shirt war.”

Daniela smirked. “Obviously.”

Y/n slid in next to her, wrapping an arm lazily around her shoulder as she leaned in, resting her cheek against them. For a while, it was just the soft clink of mugs, her humming faintly to an SZA song, and their hand tracing the curve of her shoulder over the fabric that used to be theirs.

“I liked seeing you in it,” Daniela said quietly, not looking at them. “Too much, probably. That’s why I freaked out.”

Y/n tilted their head toward her. “Too much?”

Daniela looked up at them, eyes tired but soft. “I know I joke about being possessive, but… when I saw you like that, wearing my stuff, looking like—” she laughed breathily, shaking her head, “—like you, it kind of hit me. How stupid in love I am.”

Y/n’s heart thudded.

“And also,” she added with a grin, “I didn’t want to spend the whole day glaring at people staring at you.”

“So the solution,” Y/n said, setting down their mug, “is to keep me indoors?”

“Exactly,” Daniela said, looping her arms around Y/n’s neck and pulling them in.

Y/n’s lips met hers like muscle memory—soft, warm, certain. One kiss turned into two. Then three. Soon, the hoodie and butterfly shirt were somewhere on the floor, replaced by her laughter against Y/n’s skin and their hands gently tracing the path of her ribs.

Time slowed in the amber light of their apartment. No teasing, no games—just warmth, whispers, and the hush of love that had long since stopped being casual. When they pulled the blanket around both of them later, tangled and flushed, Daniela whispered, “Don’t think this means I won’t steal your shirts again.”

Y/n grinned, brushing her curls back. “You can have them. Just don’t be surprised if I keep the next one you leave behind.”

Daniela kissed their collarbone. “Deal.”

And in the quiet afterward, she fell asleep with her hand on Y/n’s chest, her shirt long forgotten, and her heart laid bare.

#gender neutral reader #daniela x reader #daniela avanzini #katseye daniela #katseye #katseye x reader

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kaiyunsim · 3 months ago

Text

where or when —

pairing : best friend!leehan x m!reader

summary : seeing your instagram stories with an unfamilliar @ sparks something in leehan, and when he comes to you for a trip, you notice a difference in his attitude…

warnings : fluff, angst if you squint, HIGH amounts of jealousy, reader tends to look over the signs, highschool best friends, college au, lowkey best friend zoned, gyuvin from zb1 as the reader’s friend,

a/n : still trying to do requests 😓 sorry if i’m taking a while… anyways enjoy my leehan fic debut ! (this is me being desperate for bnd + zb1 crumbs) sorry anon if this is kinda half-assed :(

queueing… : where or when - laufey, ever seen - beabadoobe, jupiter - the marías

[requested]

— wc : 4.2k — not proof read —

you and leehan still talk. not as much as you used to, but enough that it doesn’t feel like you’ve lost him. there’s a routine now. late-night texts, random memes sent in the middle of the day, and the occasional call when time zones and schedules allow.

it’s different, though. before, you saw him every day. before, it was easy to read his mood, his quirks, the way he’d space out during lunch and suddenly snap back with a weird, offhand comment that made you laugh. now, everything is filtered through a screen, through choppy audio and pixelated video calls where the wifi lags just enough to make his reactions delayed.

but he’s still leehan. still your best friend. even if things feel just a little off.

college is easier to adjust to than you expect. you make friends, settle into your classes, get comfortable in your dorm. and then there’s gyuvin. you don’t even remember how you became close, just that at some point, you started hanging out between classes, grabbing lunch together, and sharing inside jokes. he’s fun, easy to talk to, and he ends up in your stories a lot. mostly because he’s always doing something dumb or funny that’s worth posting. stupid gyuvin

at first, leehan doesn’t say anything. he still sends his usual dry texts in response to your stories, things like “what’s wrong with you” or “why are you like this.” but after a while, something shifts. you don’t notice it right away.

he starts replying less.

normally, he’d at least send a reaction, a thumbs-up emoji, something. now, there are times he doesn’t respond at all. your messages sit on read for hours before he eventually texts back with something short, like “nice” or “cool.”

then, during your calls, he starts acting weird.

“so then he tripped over his own feet and nearly took out an entire table,” you say, laughing as you recall something gyuvin did earlier. “i swear, i thought the waiter was gonna kill him.”

silence.

“…leehan?”

“huh?” his voice finally comes through, like he wasn’t paying attention.

“did you even hear what i said?”

“yeah,” he mutters. “your new friend’s an idiot.”

you pause. “uh, okay? i mean, yeah, but that’s what makes it funny.”

leehan doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t even comment. he just hums, the sound flat and unimpressed.

you brush it off. maybe he’s just tired. he’s always been a little weird about expressing things, so you don’t think much of it.

but then it keeps happening.

you bring up something about your day, something involving gyuvin, and leehan either changes the subject or barely reacts. if he does respond, it’s usually a sarcastic remark, something dry like, “wow, amazing. truly groundbreaking.”

at first, you assume it’s just him being his usual self. he’s always had a bit of a deadpan sense of humor (or laughing like crazy on a good day). but when you’re telling a different story about one of your other friends and he actually engages, asks questions, laughs at the funny parts. you start to wonder.

the final straw is when you catch him online but he doesn’t respond to your message. normally, you wouldn’t care. people get busy. you get busy. but then, out of curiosity, you check his recent activity.

he liked a post.

not just any post, but one of your old ones. something from years ago.

you frown and text him again.

you : you good?

this time, he responds instantly.

ihan : yeah. why?

you : you just liked a post from forever ago, dude. what are you doing, scrolling through my account like a stalker?

ihan : nah, just bored.

you narrow your eyes at your screen.

you : then why didn’t you reply earlier?

there’s a long pause before his next message comes through.

ihan : forgot.

you don’t buy it, but you let it go.

it’s not until later, when you’re lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, that you start piecing things together. the short replies. the sarcastic comments. the lack of enthusiasm whenever you mention gyuvin.

no. no way.

he wouldn’t be… jealous. right?

—

it starts with the @’s.

at first, leehan doesn’t think much of it. people tag their friends in posts all the time. it’s normal. you used to tag him in stupid memes, too. but now, every time he sees gyuvin’s name pop up next to yours, something in his stomach twists.

he tells himself it’s just curiosity when he taps on your profile one night, scrolling through your recent posts. your feed is more active than his, full of blurry photos, half-finished thoughts, and videos that make no sense without context. he’s used to it. but now, scattered between everything else, are pictures of you and gyuvin.

one of you two sitting outside some café, drinks in hand, captioned "dude just tried to argue that water isn't wet" with gyuvin in the comments defending himself.

another one from a late-night study session: "brain empty, no thoughts, just suffering (ft. gyuvin)".

a video where you’re both in a convenience store, gyuvin holding up a ridiculous snack combo while you wheeze in the background. "he’s not real. he’s a simulation glitch."

and the worst part. gyuvin tagging you back.

the more leehan scrolls, the worse it gets. the @’s, the inside jokes, the casual "bro" captions that feel like they should be directed at him instead.

his finger hovers over the like button. he should press it. it’s not weird to like your best friend’s posts. he does it all the time.

but now, he can’t bring himself to do it.

instead, he backs out and scrolls down, past all the recent stuff, past college, back to when it was just you and him. old pictures from high school. random posts that barely made sense, stupid things only the two of you understood.

on impulse, he taps one and likes it.

then another.

and another.

he doesn’t even realize how deep he’s gone until a notification pops up.

you: why are you liking posts from two years ago.

leehan stares at the message for a long moment before responding.

ihan: just bored.

there’s an awkward pause before you reply.

you: that’s what you said last time.

he doesn’t have a good excuse, so he ignores it.

but when his phone buzzes again, it’s a call.

leehan hesitates, then picks up.

“dude,” you say immediately. “are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“because you’re acting weird,” you point out. “you keep liking my old posts. and you’re being— i don’t know. different.”

“i’m literally just existing.”

“existing like a stalker?”

“shut up.”

you laugh, and for a second, it’s normal again. for a second, it’s like before, when everything was simple.

but then you say, “anyway, guess what gyuvin did today,” and the feeling shatters.

leehan clicks his tongue. “again?”

you pause. “what do you mean ‘again’?”

“you always bring him up.”

“well, yeah, because i hang out with him,” you say, like it’s obvious. “he’s my friend.”

something about the way you say it makes leehan’s chest tighten.

“must be nice,” he mutters.

“what?”

“nothing.”

but you heard him, and now you’re suspicious. “do you not like him or something?”

leehan scoffs. “i don’t even know him.”

“exactly, so why are you acting weird?”

“i’m not.”

you go quiet, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the clear. but then you say, “wait. are you jealous?”

his entire body tenses. “what.”

“oh my god, you are.”

“no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“shut up.”

but now you’re laughing again, like this is the funniest thing in the world. like you’ve just cracked some impossible mystery.

“bro,” you wheeze. “you don’t have to be jealous of gyuvin.”

“i’m not,” he insists, even though it’s obviously a lie.

“he’s just a friend.”

“good for you.”

“you’re my best friend.”

leehan blinks.

you say it so casually, like it’s a fact, like it’s something that’s never changed and never will. and for the first time since you left for college, since everything started feeling different, something in him eases.

“…yeah?” he mutters.

“yeah, idiot.”

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, he stares at his screen, at the call timer ticking up, at your contact name.

“okay,” he finally says.

and this time, when you start rambling about your day again, about gyuvin and everything else, he doesn’t feel quite as bad.

—

it happens out of nowhere.

one second, you’re texting leehan about some random thing, and the next, he just casually drops:

ihan: i’m visiting this weekend.

you stare at your phone. blink. reread the message just to make sure you didn’t imagine it.

you: what?? you: since when??

he doesn’t answer right away, which is suspicious in itself.

ihan: idk just felt like it.

“just felt like it” your ass.

leehan is many things, quiet, weird, constantly making comments that don’t match his expression, but impulsive is not one of them. if he’s coming, it’s because he planned it. and if he planned it, that means he’s had this in mind for a while.

not that you’re complaining.

you: dude why didn’t you tell me earlier i need to make plans ihan: don’t make it a big deal you: im literally gonna make it a big deal you: also when are u getting here ihan: friday night you: WILD

it’s not wild. it’s just a normal visit. but you’re excited anyway.

and, because you’re a good friend, you start planning out the weekend.

you already know leehan. he doesn’t like doing things that require too much social energy, so you pick chill places. a late-night convenience store run, a cool little bookstore café, maybe a walk around campus just to show him where you spend most of your time, and ESPECIALLY the local aquarium you’ve been talking all about to him.

you also decide, at some point, that he should meet gyuvin.

it makes sense. leehan’s your best friend, gyuvin’s the person you hang out with the most at college, it’s only right that they meet at least once. plus, gyuvin’s easygoing. he gets along with pretty much everyone.

so, you text him.

you: bro my best friend’s coming this weekend gyuvin: WOOO INTRODUCE ME you: thats the plan gyuvin: SICK

simple. easy. no problems.

and then the weekend arrives.

friday night, you meet leehan at the station. he looks the same as ever, hoodie, messy hair, that neutral expression that only people who know him well can tell is actually content. when he spots you, he just lifts a hand in a casual wave, like he didn’t just travel all the way here to see you.

“you look the same,” you say as a greeting.

“so do you,” he replies.

“hot?”

he stares at you blankly. “sure.”

you laugh, throwing an arm around him as you lead him toward your dorm. he doesn’t shake you off.

it’s good. being with him again. different from texting, from calls. it’s comfortable, familiar, like nothing’s changed even though everything technically has.

he settles into your dorm easily, dropping his bag by the bed and immediately taking your desk chair. you let him because you’re nice.

“so,” you say, sitting on your bed. “i have plans.”

he raises a brow. “for what?”

“us.”

he stares. “why.”

“because you’re visiting, dumbass,” you snort. “we’re not just gonna sit in my dorm all weekend.”

leehan shrugs, like he wouldn’t actually mind that. classic.

“anyway,” you continue, “we’re meeting gyuvin tomorrow.”

something shifts in his face. subtle. but you catch it.

“…okay,” he says.

you squint at him. “you sure?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“no reason.”

he doesn’t ask any questions. doesn’t say anything else. just spins lazily in your chair while you move on to another topic.

and that should’ve been your first clue.

—

the next day, you meet up with gyuvin at a café near campus.

you introduce them, grinning. “gyuvin, this is leehan. leehan, gyuvin.”

gyuvin, naturally, is all smiles. “dude, finally! i feel like i know you already with how much he talks about you.”

leehan glances at you. “does he.”

you blink. “…yeah?”

“cute,” gyuvin says, nudging you. “your bestie’s here and suddenly you forget how to function.”

“shut up,” you laugh.

you don’t notice the way leehan’s jaw tightens slightly.

the three of you sit down, and that’s when things start getting weird.

leehan’s… off.

he’s never been the most talkative, sure, but right now, he’s especially quiet. he barely speaks, only responding when necessary, and even then, it’s short.

on top of that, he’s weirdly stiff. like, physically. usually, he slouches or leans into you in that casual way that means he’s comfortable. but right now? he’s sitting way too straight, arms crossed like he’s closed off.

and the worst part? he keeps hovering.

like, subtly sticking close to you. if you shift, he shifts. if you lean forward, he leans forward. at one point, you adjust in your seat, and when your knee accidentally bumps his, he doesn’t move away.

which is weird. because normally, he would.

gyuvin, of course, notices.

he doesn’t say anything outright, but you can tell from the way he keeps glancing at leehan with an amused look, like he’s holding back a comment.

meanwhile, you’re just sitting there, completely clueless.

the conversation moves along, mostly between you and gyuvin, since leehan isn’t adding much. eventually, gyuvin brings up something funny that happened in class, and you start laughing. like, genuinely laughing. the kind that makes you lean into the person next to you without thinking.

and that person just so happens to be leehan.

you don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel him go rigid.

like, absolutely frozen.

you blink, looking at him. “uh. you good?”

“fine,” he mutters.

but his expression is unreadable, and his ears are slightly red.

before you can question it, gyuvin smirks. “yo, leehan.”

leehan finally looks at him, raising a brow.

“not much of a talker, huh?”

“…no.”

“respect,” gyuvin nods. “but also, i feel like you secretly have a lot of thoughts right now.”

“do i.”

gyuvin leans forward, grinning. “yeah. like, i dunno, maybe about me?”

there’s a beat of silence.

you’re about to tell gyuvin to stop being weird when leehan, completely deadpan, just says, “who knows.”

you choke on your drink.

gyuvin bursts out laughing. “yo. that’s crazy. insane even.”

leehan just sips his coffee like nothing happened.

you stare at him. then at gyuvin, who looks way too entertained by all of this. then back at leehan.

“…am i missing something?”

gyuvin wipes a fake tear. “nah, man. everything’s good.”

“you guys are weird,” you mutter.

but even as the conversation continues, even as things settle, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s up.

and, if gyuvin’s knowing smirk is anything to go by, he knows exactly what it is.

—

it’s not like you meant to ditch leehan.

it just kind of… happened.

you have a big exam coming up, and gyuvin’s in the same class, so you planned a study session in advance. it’s not like you can just not study. even if leehan is visiting, your grades still matter.

so, when saturday morning rolls around, you hesitate before telling him.

“hey, i gotta study with gyuvin for a bit today,” you say. “big test next week.”

leehan looks up from his phone. “okay.”

you wait for something else, maybe a when will you be back or an i’ll come with you, but he just nods and goes back to scrolling.

you frown. “…you sure?”

“yeah.”

he doesn’t look mad. doesn’t look anything, really. just neutral, as always.

so you assume it’s fine.

and then you leave.

abd the study session goes longer than expected.

it’s not your fault that gyuvin’s just distracting. he keeps making jokes, finding random excuses to stop working, and pulling you into stupid conversations that have nothing to do with the exam.

but, somehow, you actually manage to get stuff done.

by the time you check your phone, it’s already past sunset. you decide to pack up and grab your things while gyuvin fills up his water bottle.

you: bro i lost track of time you: i should go gyuvin: u should but also should u you: what gyuvin: idk it just feels like someone might be mad you: …what are you talking about gyuvin: nothing lol

you squint at your screen, confused.

but you brush it off and start heading back to your dorm.

—

when you get there, leehan is sitting on your bed, hoodie up, scrolling on his phone.

he doesn’t look up when you walk in.

“yo,” you say, dropping your bag. “you eat yet?”

“yeah.”

short. simple. cold.

…weird.

you glance at him. “what’d you get?”

“food.”

okay. even weirder.

you raise a brow. “alright, what’s up with you?”

“nothing.”

“you’re being weird.”

“i’m always weird.”

“…you’re being extra weird.”

no response.

you step closer, tilting your head. “seriously, what’s wrong?”

he exhales, still not looking at you.

then, after a pause, he mutters, “someone seems to be having fun with their new best friend.”

…huh?

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs.

shrugs. like he didn’t just say that.

you stare at him, processing. then, slowly…

he’s jealous. again

“wait,” you say, a grin forming. “are you—”

“no.”

“you don’t even know what i was gonna say.”

“don’t need to.”

you squint. “you’re jealous.”

“no.”

“you so are.”

he finally looks up, well, almost. he still doesn’t meet your eyes, gaze fixed somewhere near your shoulder. but his hoodie strings are wrapped around his fingers, and his ears, his ears, are turning red.

which means one thing.

you got him.

you grin wider. “dude. you are jealous.”

“i’m not.”

“you totally are.”

“no.”

“yes.”

he tugs at his hoodie strings, cheeks slightly puffed. “i don’t care.”

“you so care.”

he presses his lips together, glaring at his phone like it personally offended him.

you sit on the bed next to him, nudging his knee. “c’mon, just admit it.”

silence.

then, after a moment—

“…you were gone all day.”

your smile falters slightly.

because now he really sounds upset.

you sigh. “i told you i had to study.”

“you still left.”

“dude.” you nudge him again. “you could’ve come.”

he finally meets your eyes. “and third-wheel?”

“…wow. so you are jealous.”

he groans, pulling his hoodie strings tighter. “shut up.”

you laugh. “nah, this is funny.”

“it’s not.”

“it is.”

he exhales sharply, slumping a little.

you poke his arm. “leehan.”

he doesn’t answer.

“leehan.”

nothing.

“leehan.”

he finally looks at you, deadpan. “what.”

you grin. “you’re my best friend, dumbass.”

his fingers loosen around his hoodie strings.

“…whatever,” he mumbles.

but his ears are still red.

—

the next night is nice in your dorm room, the kind of night where the world outside feels far away, muffled by the thick walls and the faint hum of your laptop. you’re sitting on your bed, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the space, while leehan lounges in the chair next to your desk, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

the room is cozy, just enough space for the two of you to settle into your own little world. it’s been a long day of classes, but it’s nice to have time to just... chill.

you glance over at him, noticing how he seems a little more distant than usual (well this IS the new usual since he’s been nothong but jealous this trip). his usual carefree attitude is hidden behind that familiar quiet, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that something’s been off ever since this afternoon.

you hadn’t brought gyuvin up after the weird moment earlier, the tension between the two is too thick. but now that you’re alone with him, it feels like the right time to talk.

“hey,” you start, casually flipping through your notebook as you lean back against your pillows. “everything okay?”

he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looks away, a hint of something unreadable flashing across his face.

“yeah, just... tired,” he mutters, his voice low. he doesn’t say anything more, clearly not wanting to elaborate, but you’re not fooled. you’ve known leehan long enough to know when something’s bothering him.

you don’t push it right away, though. instead, you let the silence stretch for a few more moments, letting him process whatever he’s feeling. but when you catch him staring at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen as if he’s unsure whether to send something, you can’t help but ask.

“what’s that?”

leehan freezes for just a second before he shoves his phone into his pocket.

“nothing,” he says quickly, looking at you with a forced smile. “just... uh, texting gyuvin. nothing important.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “texting gyuvin, huh? since when are you two texting each other so much?”

his face flushes just slightly, and you can’t help but notice the way he shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

“we’re just... trying to be friends,” he says, clearly making an effort to sound casual, but his tone gives away more than he means to. you catch a glimpse of the jealousy that lingers just beneath the surface.

you tilt your head, trying to make sense of it all. you’ve never seen leehan act like this before. not with anyone else, at least. you know he’s been distant, but this... this is different. there’s something more to it, something he’s not saying.

he has to be lying. but about what?

before you can ask any more questions, his phone buzzes in his pocket. he pulls it out quickly, his eyes scanning the screen as he reads the message.

you lean forward slightly, curious to see who it is. he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, because he leaves the screen facing you for a moment before he types something back.

you read the name on the message: gyuvin

he’s telling the truth

you can’t help but smile a little, knowing exactly what this is. leehan’s been acting all weird because he’s jealous of gyuvin. it’s funny, in a way, how obvious it is.

but then something strange happens. leehan, in his hurry to send the message, accidentally taps on the wrong thread and sends the text to you instead of gyuvin.

you glance down at the screen, your eyes widening slightly as you read the message.

“hey, just letting you know, no one could ever replace y/n. i know i’m being weird, but i just... i don’t like sharing them with anyone else. i know it sounds stupid, but i don’t want anyone getting too close.”

you blink, processing what you’ve just read. you look up at leehan, who’s staring at his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just sent you that message.

your heart skips a beat.

“leehan,” you say softly, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

“what?” he asks, his tone still casual, though you can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves.

“you sent me something,” you say, holding your phone up so he can see the screen. “and i think you meant to send it to gyuvin.”

his face goes pale for a second before he stammers, trying to backtrack. “oh... uh, no, it’s fine. i didn’t mean—i mean, it doesn’t matter.”

but you can tell it matters. the way his hands tighten around his phone, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. it’s clear he didn’t mean to be so... honest.

you smile softly, not wanting to make him feel too embarrassed, but also feeling a warmth spread in your chest. this is the leehan you know—the one who hides his feelings behind sarcasm and awkwardness.

“leehan,” you say gently, setting your phone down on the bed beside you. “it’s okay. i get it.”

he fidgets in his seat, not knowing what to say next. “i... i just don’t want to lose you, okay? i know i’m being dumb. it’s just... i don’t like sharing you with anyone.”

you pause for a moment, letting his words sink in. it’s not just about gyuvin; it’s about you and him, and the friendship that’s been there for so long. he’s scared of losing you, and that fear has been eating at him.

you lean forward, giving him a reassuring look. “leehan, you don’t have to worry about that. no one could ever replace you. you’re... you’re my best friend. no one else is going to take that away.”

he looks at you, his expression softening as the tension in his shoulders melts away. “yeah?”

you nod, smiling. “yeah.”

there’s a long pause, but it’s comfortable, and after a moment, leehan reaches over, grabbing his phone again. this time, he’s not texting gyuvin. instead, he opens the camera app and snaps a quick picture of the two of you sitting in the room, your faces caught in a moment of quiet understanding.

he pauses for a second, then types something out before posting it. you can’t help but peek over his shoulder.

it’s a simple caption: still the favorite, obviously

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re such an oddball.”

leehan shrugs, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “only for you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hiding the warmth in his voice.

you’re still smiling when he stands up to leave, but before he heads out the door, he stops and turns around.

“you’re not going anywhere, right?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

you shake your head, standing up to walk him to the door. “no, leehan. i’m not going anywhere.”

he gives you a small smile, and with that, he leaves, the door clicking softly behind him.

you sit back down on your bed, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. everything’s okay again. you’ve got your best friend back. no one’s going anywhere. and somehow, that’s all that matters.

tysm for reading :>

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz

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saeun · 11 months ago

Text

ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤ◟ the infamous instagram live. . . ! ── gojo satoru ﹕ jujutsu kaisen.

﹙ rookie mistake ﹚ ⊹ being a new-gen actor had its perks. it's easy to gain a fanbase, gain recognition, and easy for your show to go viral. what's not easy, however, is privacy. someone's bound to expose..

love, ‘su › the comments are typed out like “@cuntcarti: heyyy” for authenticity bc i am not recreating a real ig live in smau format #lazy

“hey guys! what's up?” satoru's oddly close to the camera. his nose being the most prominent feature in everyone's screen.

he's been on tour for jujutsu kaisen's new movie and it's been far too hectic. if it weren't for the luxurious hotel's service, he would've died in between schedule. the hours the crew were allowed to slumber slowly decreased: from eight to five to three to twenty-five minutes — just unnecessarily busy.

aside from experiencing the dark side to being an actor, he enjoys the fame. the attention that comes with it is nothing compared to the lightheaded feelings he feels everytime it's 8pm. being a crazed attention seeker is the main reason why he's live when he really, really should be asleep.

@satonuts: tilt the phone down lets see whats there

@daily-jjk: back up a little..

@nanamiroleplay: how's it been?

@tojiggle: drop the pants

“god forbid a man gets close to his screen,” he jokingly grumbles, shifting his position to laying down on his pillow.

now the view's better: his arm's stretched upwards to allow half of his upper body to be in frame. of course, he's shirtless. what's an attention seeker without being half naked? nothing! there's a small-sized silver chain around his neck; dare the fandom admit, it adds a special flavour... perhaps this shall be their new lockscreen.

@daily-jjk: my fault king

@itasaki: i love you <3 i told my father about us <3

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@crazygetofan: is geto around?

reading the last comment, satoru does the lick -lips-and-bite-lower-lip combination.

“yeah, but he's in the shower—” he pauses and furrows his eyebrows, “no, i'm not gonna show you butt-naked suguru.”

@crazygetofan: worth a shot bye

@stsgshipper25: its bc he's hiding his bf!!

@fushigurosbitch: @stsgshipper25 wym im right here ??

@tojiggle: drop the pants

he doesn't respond to any comments, nor does he make any stupid comment himself. he's silently admiring himself while going through a bunch of saved filters. while satoru was too immersed in loving himself, he failed to notice suguru entering the room.

it's a win-lose situation that'll occur here. the win is obviously suguru making his entry which would mean that he'd join in satoru's live. the lose here is that he has a big mouth. suguru's mouth talks before his mind analyzes the outcome of what he'll say.

suguru walks over to the space in between his bed and satoru's, fiddling with the items on the bedside table until his hands fall on satoru's wallet. like a moth to a flame, he mindlessly opens it, counting the bills and how much it totals up to.

“damn, satoru, you only have ninety dollars?”

“don't out me like that, bro,” a sigh leaves satoru, “there's a reason i have a card.”

“alright bro.”

@crazygetofan: show me my man

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u broke

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@satonuts: @tojiggle QUIT IT

“anyway guys,” satoru stands up, “let's have a mukbang.”

walking towards the television stand, satoru slams his hand on the chips, gripping it like it's the last time he'll ever have a meal. once he acquired his meal, he goes back to the bed, propping the phone with stacked pillows so he's in frame when he sits.

suguru can be seen in the background, pacing around the room in a white robe that's loosely tied. this was more than enough for the geto suguru fans that joined satoru's live for that purpose.

“wait bro,” suguru calls out to satoru but doesn't turn to him. he's occupied with rubbing moisturiser into his cheeks vigorously.

satoru hums, acknowledging his roomate. he, too, doesn't look at suguru.

“did you get the thing for (y/n)? you've been talking about that all day.”

satoru's silent. this time he's not falling in love with himself. the chip that's halfway into his mouth falls. can he consider this to be doxxing? no way suguru just did him like that.

“...oh come on, bro.” his shoulders drop. a clear indication of disappointment.

as suguru's still has his back turned to satoru, he's unaware of his expression and thinks that his comment was meant for him to shut up about the gift/souvenir. after all, suguru has been teasing satoru about it.

“seriously? you still haven't figured out what to get your girlfriend? lame ass.”

“can you say it any louder?!”

“YOUR GIRL— what the fuck?”

satoru forces him silent by throwing the air conditioner's remote at him. it worked, kind of. if only it had an effect on his rapidly beating heart. he's now anxious and a tad bit afraid to look at the comments.

slowly, his eyes glance at the comments. they sure are coming in fast!

@itasaki: killing myself <3

@fuckgojo_wasdailyjjk: cant have shit on earth

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u gonna get jumped

@tojiggle: don't drop the pants

@miadollypie: check out twitter link in bio for spicy stuff

@chosoballs: couldnt be my man!

@kystoru: @chosoballs thats why yo bitch dying next season

@chosoballs: ?

@fwkuna: love seeing ppl i hate miserable

@fushigurosbitch: they gonna break up next two weeks

@satonuts: guys rmbr we do not know satoru irl, be nice

@fwkuna: @satonuts ykdw ur crying on the inside

@satonuts: @fwkuna DIE

the comments are overflowing in such a speed that it overwhelms even satoru. he swallows hard, switching his eyes to suguru.

suguru's back to busying himself with his skincare routine, unaware of the damages he's done.

‘fuck,’ he curses in his mind, nervously laughing before he speaks up.

“oh boy, would you look at the time!” he says ever-so enthusiastically. “i'll see you guys later, sleep well, ‘kay?”

“huh? why'd you end it?” the damager dealer questions, turning around to finally face satoru with a charcoal facemask on. it's good for whiteheads!

“ask one more fucking questions and i'm killing us both.”

the aggressive comments makes suguru recoil. he didn't expect that — he's also confident that he did nothing of the sort to result in such violence.

“damn, did she block you or something? i get it, i get it. i'd be mad too.” he nods, showing satoru that he understands and feels for his friend.

satoru's face twists in annoyance. the man gifts suguru a middle finger before he moves the chips onto the bedside table.

he's tired now. not in the sleepy way, though. in the ‘what am i gonna do now’ way. nothing good comes up in mind to lessen the damage on the internet, so he falls back on the bed.

with his phone face down and an arm over his eyes, he tries his best to sleep.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #was scrolling kpop twt n lwk nctzens would be jjkfans if they were kpop #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x fem!reader

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sturnsblogs · 2 months ago

Text

OFF LIMITS

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!Fwb!Reader

—

Alia is your best friend in the whole widest world. You’ve known her since you were five years old—matching backpacks, pinky promises on the playground, and sleepovers filled with secrets and snacks. She was your ride or die, the one person who always knew everything about you.

Except this.

Except Chris.

Because that part? That part felt different. It felt dirty. Like something you needed to keep folded up and hidden in your back pocket. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust her—it was just… complicated. It wasn’t just hooking up, and it wasn’t a relationship either. It was you and Chris, a chaotic, hot, late-night mess that you didn’t even fully understand yourself. So, you never told her. Not fully. She knew of him, obviously—you’d mentioned him a few times. But to Alia, he was just some guy you were friends with.

You and Alia were laid out on your bed, tangled in fuzzy blankets, half-watching a romcom while scrolling on your phones, trading TikToks and inside jokes.

Then she said it.

“Hey… y’know Chris is like extra cute.”

You blinked, your fingers pausing mid-scroll. “He’s… okay,” you said carefully, eyes still on your phone, your voice slow.

She turned to you, all smile. “No, like seriously. He’s got that kinda bad boy face but like he’s secretly sweet or something. And tall. You know I have a thing for tall.”

You gave a small, polite laugh, trying not to visibly clench your jaw. “Mmm.”

Alia kept going. “He followed me back on Instagram. And he DM’d me, girl.”

That made your eyes snap up. Your stomach dropped.

“He what?”

She didn’t notice the shift in your tone. She just kept smiling, like this was all so harmless. “Yeah! He replied to one of my stories. The one of me at the lake in that brown bikini? He said—wait hold on—” she opened her DMs and read it out loud with a grin, “‘You always this fine or just when I’m not around?’” Then she laughed. “Like—HELLO?”

Your jaw clenched slightly, nails pressing into your palm under the blanket. You forced a soft smile. “Really? Oh my gosh, what did you say?”

She shrugged. “I just sent back a little heart emoji. I mean… I dunno. He’s cute. I didn’t know y’all were like close though?”

You looked down, heart pounding, voice even. “We’re not. I mean… we’re friends.”

Alia raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t care if we like… talk-talk?”

The air thickened. It suddenly felt hard to breathe. You blinked slowly, keeping your face neutral.

You gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Nah. Why would I care?”

Your chest felt tight. She turned back to her phone, grinning, oblivious.

And you just laid there next to your best friend, heart in your throat, thinking: why the fuck did he DM her?

You waited until Alia had gone to the bathroom before you grabbed your phone off the charger and pulled up Chris’ contact.

Your fingers were shaky, chest still tight. You stared at the text bubble for a few seconds before typing fast, no filter, no hesitation:

you:

so when were you gonna tell me you dm’d alia?

You watched the three dots pop up and disappear once… then again.

And again.

Then finally:

chris:

what?

You rolled your eyes, fingers flying.

you:

don’t play dumb. “you always this fine or just when i’m not around”? really?

you:

you know my best friend is off limits chris.

There was a pause. Longer this time. And it only made you angrier.

chris:

didn’t know i needed your permission to talk to people

you:

you need my permission to flirt with my best friend. yeah actually, you do.

chris:

baby it wasn’t even like that

she posted a thirst trap. i said something. calm down.

you:

don’t call me baby right now

and don’t tell me to calm down like i’m crazy for caring

chris:

we’re not together. you’ve made that clear a thousand times.

so what exactly are you mad about?

Your jaw locked. That was such a Chris thing to say. Avoid accountability and flip the blame on you like it wasn’t him who crossed the line.

you:

you’re such a dick sometimes

it’s not about being “together” it’s about respect

chris:

you ghosted me for three days over some dream bullshit and now you’re pressed cause i replied to a story??

you:

YOU DONT FLIRT WITH MY BEST FRIEND

chris:

you’re right.

that was messed up.

You stared at that last message for a minute. It was rare for Chris to own up to anything. But the knot in your stomach didn’t go away.

you:

i trusted you more than that.

He didn’t reply right away.

Then finally:

chris:

i didn’t think you’d care this much

i’m sorry. i won’t talk to her again.

But all you could think was—

Why did it take me saying something for you to get that?

—

A/N- Yessssssss or nooooooo

@sunrisemill thank you for the idea baby

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset-deactivate @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemfemme @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn

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simplyhughes · 8 months ago

Text

A Hughes Summer: Morning Light

Synopsis: A Hughes Summer is an ongoing series about a HughesSister!Reader x Connor Bedard! This will follow multiple scenarios of their summer together spent at the infamous Hughes Lake House! If there are any specific scenarios you’d like to see, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Content Warning: kinda suggestive lol

Pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!Reader

Part Two

wc: 900

The morning sun filtered through the half-open blinds, casting soft stripes of light across the room. The plush polyester cushions enveloped two of the Hughes brothers' friends, who were still sprawled out in last night’s clothes, presumably still drunk. Beer cans littered the floor, crumpled and empty. Trevor’s arm dangled off the couch, while his other hand clutched a drool-covered pillow. Across from him, Alex scrolled through his Instagram feed, the volume muted to avoid further tormenting his hungover brain.

I stirred in my bed as the warmth beside me shifted, the weight of the blankets suddenly feeling lighter. Slowly, I opened my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows. Connor's bare back faced me, his muscles rippling subtly as he stretched.

“Con?” I mumbled, my voice husky with sleep.

He turned toward me, his hair falling messily over his eyes, shadowing his face in the soft morning light. “Hey, babe. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly. Leaning over, he brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His eyes glimmered as they met mine.

“Why are you up? It’s so early,” I murmured, my gaze drifting down to his toned abdomen.

Connor let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “It’s twelve, baby—it’s not exactly early.”

A groan escaped my lips. “Come on, Y/N, I’m starving. Doesn’t some warm eggs or waffles sound sooo good right now?” he teased, giving my body a gentle shake.

“Mmm, I guess it does,” I mumbled back.

With a swift motion, Connor ripped the duvet off me, crumpling it at the bottom of the bed. He swung his legs off the mattress, his feet padding softly against the wooden floor as he moved toward his bag. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a Blackhawks Hockey t-shirt, but just as he went to slip on the shirt, I interrupted with a playful plea.

“Do you haaaave to?” I drawled, dragging out my words.

“Do I have to?” Connor echoed with a smirk.

“Put that on,” I pouted.

“My shirt?” He laughed as I nodded in return. “Why? You like what you see?”

I stepped closer, our bodies barely inches apart. He shivered as my fingers traced the contours of his chest, cool against the warmth of his skin. “Hmmm, maybe I do,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

My hand drifted up to his face, my fingers grazing down his jawline as he leaned into my touch. His large hands found my waist and pulled me flush against him. He pressed his lips to mine, humming softly at the contact.

“Yoooo, what the fuck!” came a third voice from behind the cracked door. Connor and I broke apart instantly, my lips already missing his warmth.

“Can you not do my sister while we’re all here? Matter of fact, at all?” Jack's voice rang out.

“We weren’t—” Connor stammered.

“Get outta here, Jack, oh my god,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Well, I was gonna tell you that me and Quinn made breakfast—or, I guess, lunch—but it seems like you two already ate... each other’s faces,” Jack said sassily.

“Wait, no! I’m sorry, I’m starving!” I shouted after Jack, who was already halfway down the hallway.

“Come on, Connie,” he pouted, clearly embarrassed by what had just happened. I clasped Connor's hand and dragged him down the hallway to the kitchen. Luke, Trevor, and Alex were gathered around the circular table, their faces buried in their plates. You’d think these boys hadn’t eaten in days. The can beneath Trevor's hand crunched under pressure as he washed down his sugary waffles with a gulp of beer.

“Wow, drinking already?” I remarked as Connor and I walked through the doorway.

“You know it,” Trevor replied, lifting his drink in the air like a trophy.

“Morning, guys,” my eldest brother Quinn greeted as we reached the kitchen island.

“Morning, Quinnifer,” I responded, filling a plate with pancakes, piling on butter and syrup.

“What are we doing today?” I asked, glancing over at Quinn.

“I think we’re just hanging around today. Might take the boat for a spin,” he answered.

Connor stayed quiet, following my lead as he gathered his own plate of food. He grabbed a few pancakes, steering clear of the sugary toppings and opting for some fruit instead. If I had pressed him on it, he would have had to explain how his trainer would kill him for indulging too much.

Connor looked up at Jack and Quinn. “Thanks for the food, guys. This looks great,” he said before heading to take a seat. My brothers both responded with casual, “No problem, man.”

By the time everyone finished, it was almost one-thirty. All the boys, besides Connor, had changed into swimwear and piled into the living room. Out on the back porch, I sat in a hammock wrapped in Connor’s arms.

“Do you want to go boating with everyone else today?” I asked, breaking our comfortable silence.

His lips parted. “We’ve spent the last couple of days with the boys… this could be our chance for some alone time,” he proposed.

I tilted my head up at him, my cheek resting against his soft shirt. “Hmmm, I can get behind that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I smirked. “What do you have in mind?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” he shrugged.

This dork is gonna be the death of me.

I put this together super quickly for yall! I wanted to get something out as so many people wanted more! What do u want connor and reader to get up to next part?

#simplyhughes #a hughes summer #connor bedard fluff #connorbedard #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x hughes!reader #blackhawks #chicago blackhawks #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagines

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moonshynecybin · 9 days ago

Note

So as the author of one of the only bez/marc scenarios that ever compelled me personally (I believe it was bez dreaming about blowing marc while vale gave directions?? so good) how would YOU do bez/marc today that addresses contemporary realities...?

omg thank you yes i am always thinking about this... like tbh im still turning it over because for a long time now ive been certain that any relationship between them HAS to be centered around valentino (like that fic u mentioned...) where marc is like. sure i'll fuck him bc he reminds me of vale a little bit and he's vaguely my type, but bez doesnt challenge him/his riding floppage was giving him the ick/bez needs the kind of validation marc simply can only give to his brother, so it honestly never gets off the ground and its sort of a limited mostly physical thing where bez is wagging his tail trying very hard and marc is uh idk. bored? lowkey repelled ? not over vale ??

BUT there also seems to be an interesting clash of behavior here from both of them recently thats pulling at that interpretation for me. because i think bez WAS an actual teen fan of marc's. he got a picture with him on a paddock visit and stalked his instagram as a kid (he still. considers him the biggest instagram slut on the grid actually. which means that he sees marc's instagram), and he also recently was the ONLY rider to list a marc/vale battle as his favorite battle of all time (argentina 2015? which marc loses badly but hey it stuck in his brain for a reason!) and during last year, where he was on the same bike as marc, he was fairly candid about marc being a "maestro" that he wants to learn from (i remember reading an article where bez's riding style was characterized as him being an "aggressive passer" when he was young. wonder where that influence came from!). and also last year at jerez bez was the only academy person to put marc on his instagram whatsoever and sprayed him w champagne/touched his shoulder etc (the vr46 insta admin was doing acrobatics cropping that man out lmao). and its not like bez is a guy that'll pull punches when he doesnt like someone! so i think that behavior all shows historical and contemporary appreciation for marc's talent and personality, but also theres maybe a bit of a tension concerning his relationship with vale that hes not terribly internally clear on how to resolve (him liking joke posts about vale being mean to marc on instagram after that podcast last year lol). and idk its very bez imo to be caught in the tensions of loyalty to the guy who got him into motogp and gut instinct fanboyism to a guy who inspired him a lot in a vaguely homoerotic way

SO! i wonder how much of this is going to feed into the fact that this year is bez's "grown up" year, where he finally can get away at least a leedle bit from the culture and ever present influence of the VR46 branding and team atmosphere/run his own team and develop his own bike. this is bez as independent from that influence as he's been since he was 16 years old and signed with the academy the december after sepang!!! and now marc is his coworker that he has an opportunity to relate to as a peer, factory rider to factory rider, which i imagine changes his perception from when marc was like. a remote and dangerous and injured and isolated widow on the cliff in those final years at honda where its a lot easier to box him up into the label of "enemy" and not think about how much he liked to watch him race when he was a kid. like to me its notable that most of the stuff i listed above happened in the year that they were both ducati satellite riders, and most of the NASTY happened when marc was at honda. there was an opportunity to shift here! and now theres MORE of an opportunity to shift, if he wants it

and from MARC'S side, i wonder how much of this he is aware of (hes notably online but he does lie about it, so i think theres a good chance he saw the photo of him and babybez lmao) and how that might filter through on his interpretation of bez, but REALLY simply because im still not quite sure: i think marc really likes people that he can joke around with, and hes not typically one to hold grudges close to his chest forever. so idk, MAYBE bez apologized when he walked back his broader criticism of marc in the wake of valencia, or maybe him walking it back in front of the press in the first place was enough for marc to put his hackles down, or even maybe enough time simply passed and he has enough baseline appreciation for bez's general goofball energy and lack of coldness for marc during the rare times theyre forced into proximity in person that it just comes through like. oh okay they can vibe. which is surprising and notable in itself (because i DONT think marc is inclined to vibe with someone like diggia, probably bc he went after alex recently), but tbh to get a clear bead on it i think marc needs to talk to bez more, because all we have is him basically ignoring him at jerez last year (6 mo out from valencia 2023) and then seeming p chill and giggly THIS year (18 mo after valencia 2023) after having a like. really bad race where he seemed kinda POed in parc ferme. so im kinda like girl what changed. and maybe nothing did but bez !

#marc's pussy lives in his clown shoes and now he is open to it. simply. would be my best wager #like theres an interesting baseline potential chemistry there i guess ? would be interested to get your take lol #callie speaks #asks #mgp

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casiia · 1 year ago

Text

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; deep breath.

warnings .: x reader, afab! reader, suggestive (just a kiss but still), mdni 18+, piercer simon, use of y/n, unedited.

.: masterlist.

the rhythmic hum of tattoo machines and the faint sound of chatter filled the air as you stepped into the studio; ghost canvas. you had booked an appointment with simon riley, intrigued by his work. known for his painless piercings and intricate fine-line tattoos, making him very well-known in the industry.

you had originally booked an appointment for another ear piercing, a helix that would go with the other assortments of jewelry already shining your ear. excitement and nervousness mingle through your stomach as you glance around the studio.

an ambient light flickers around each furniture corner, keeping the place dim and allowing natural sunlight to filter in through the sunroof. the walls were adorned with vibrant artwork, most of which are messy and clean-looking oil paintings. various band tapestries also hung from the walls, rock bands; nirvana, metallica, and deftones being a majority of the decor.

you settled into the waiting area after checking in, and the receptionist behind the counter shot you a kind smile and let you know that your piercer, simon, would be ready soon. you had been a little late for your appointment, struggling to find parking, and he had taken another client waiting for you.

you shifted in your seat, the leather cool against your bare skin. you pulled the hem of your skirt down, before winding your hands in your lap. your eyes wandered around the room, and you couldn’t help but admire the diverse clientele that flowed in and out of the studio. each person was leaving or coming in with a unique mark, a testament to simon’s expertise.

the longer you waited, the more nervous you began to feel. you had gotten piercings before, but each time you found yourself chewing on your lip in anticipation. pain was never your friend, and your tolerance for it was always low ever since you were a kid. tears would well in your eyes with every papercut you got, even now as an adult.

“y/n? simon’s ready for you.” the receptionist calls out, guiding you into another small room. she looks at your fidgeting fingers and gives you another reassuring smile. “no reason to be nervous. just sit tight for a second, and he’ll be here to show you our selection of jewelry.” she encourages before shutting the door behind her and leaving you in the small room.

it’s decorated very similarly to the lobby, except instead of oil paintings, there’s a various amount of skull decor littering the room. paintings, sculptures, and in a glass case on a counter sat a small dinosaur skull.

you felt a chill run down your spine; there was almost no color in the secluded room. everything was dull black and white, and the walls were even painted a dark gray. the only thing that stood out was you, sitting on the large black chair in your bright little pink skirt.

you’re pressing your thighs together, your legs absentmindedly swinging as you wait for simon. you had heard about him from instagram, the wild comments that raved about his work while some raved about his looks. curiosity got the best of you and with his studio only a couple blocks from your place, what was there to lose?

“are you my two o'clock?”

you hadn’t even realized that the door opened, a tall man stepping inside and shutting it with a soft click. even with you sitting on the elevated chair, he loomed over you. his tall build complimented with muscles that bulged out of his tight-fitting black shirt.

“i am. y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” you look up at him with a friendly smile, sticking your hand out for him to shake. when he does, you find yourself biting the inside of your cheek.

romance comedies always made you laugh; you never believed in love at first sight or a spark that ran between the two lovers when they first touched. but you couldn’t help but like how your hand fitted in his, his palm warm and much larger than yours. you could feel his calloused fingers squeezing your soft skin, an intimate touch that made you want more.

“simon.” the corner of his mouth barely turns up, but he’s looking down at you with a cocky look. he squeezes your hand again, and you're reminded that you should have let go by now.

a blush paints your cheeks, causing you to look away from him and down at your lap. he clears his throat, and you can tell he wants to laugh, which only adds to your embarrassment.

“what kind of piercing are you planning on getting today?” he asks, going over to his jewelry display and bringing it to you. your eyes flicker into the clear box before looking back at him.

“just an ear piercing, a helix.”

he nods, reaching over and pushing your hair back. he looks at your ears, already littered with piercings, and he only nods again. “let me know which stud you’d like, and i’ll get it sanitized for you.”

as you continue to look through the assortments of jewelry, a frown forms on your lips. not to say that you were picky, but nothing seemed to catch your eye. the various amounts of gold and titanium all the same, dull in color, and wouldn’t match the theme of your ears.

simon glances over your features as you’re focused on the display in front of him; you are beautiful and unlike any of his other clients.

“i think i may have something that you’d like,” simon says, his voice sounding softer than before. he almost grins when you look up at him, your head tilting to the side in confusion.

he’s kicking himself for wondering why you’re making him all comfortable; he was never one to want to be close to his clients. he’s leaning into you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and tilting your head with his thumb. his eyes linger on your lips, and he wants to push his thumb into your mouth, just wanting to see how you’d look. although quickly, he turns his attention back to your ears, noticing the array of star and moon jewelry that piece together perfectly.

“i knew i was saving this for someone,” he mumbles, pulling away from you. he steps back over to his cabinet of jewelry, putting the clear case of boring studs back before grabbing a new one. “do you like any of these?”

your attention flickers down to the mini box he held in one hand, the case no larger than a ring box. inside sat a small star stud, its coloring a soft rose gold. instantly a smile finds your lips, and you’re nodding up at him with thankful eyes. “i love it.”

“great, give me a second, and i’ll get it cleaned up for you.”

as simon turns around to sanitize the stud, your gaze is glued to his back. the way his muscles flex under his shirt with every subtle move or the intricate tattoos that litter over his arms. it doesn’t look like he has any piercings, his face, and ears completely untouched. makes you wonder why he’s also taken in the profession of piercing; from just a glance, anyone can tell he’s much more into the art of inking.

silence fills the room as you patiently wait; only the muffled sound of rock music from the lobby eases your nerves. he turns back to you, snapping black gloves onto his hands. “how is your pain tolerance? are you prone to fainting?” he asks, his tone almost monotone as he repeats the same precautionary questions that he has to ask every day.

“i never faint, but i’m not too good with pain.” you reply, your hands now gripping the edge of your seat beside your thighs. “kinda why i booked with you, heard you make ‘em painless.”

he gives you a reassuring smile, pride starting to swell in his chest. “s’that why you booked with me?” simon couldn’t help but feel grateful that you’d made an appointment with him because of his skill and not his looks. most of his clients booked with him because of his reputation of being attractive, and even if you silently agreed with them, the fact that you didn’t voice it and belittle his career surprised him pleasantly.

you nodded, swallowing thickly when he took a step closer. he’s telling you to relax, that he’s just gonna mark you, but you only find your breath hitching when he invades your personal space. he knocks your knees apart, making you spread your legs for him as he stands between them. he has your chin held between his fingers in one hand while the other is pushing your hair back again and pressing the tip of the toothpick into your skin, leaving a dot of purple ink at the top of your ear.

you can feel his warm breath fanning against your cheek, and your thighs try to close together, squeezing his hips. you have one hand on his chest, balancing him in an attempt to distance yourself. your other hand is gripping at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down as it rides up from your spread legs.

“tell me if you like it.” simon whispers right by your ear, seeming to forget about the proximity. and just like before, he’s pulling away from you. allowing you to suck in a shaky breath.

you didn’t think that this would be so intimate, and you wondered if simon was always like this or if he just liked the way you trembled beneath him.

he hands you a small mirror and motions for you to look at the mark, “i wouldn’t recommend moving it, it would clash with your other jewelry.”

you agree with him, handing his mirror back and shifting once more in your seat. as much as you wanted him to lean into you again, to feel his breath across your face, you wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. your attraction towards him is growing far too fast.

he hums, stepping towards you again, in the same spot between your legs. “lean back for me, sweetheart.” he mumbles, pushing you down into the seat. he’s bending over you and wiping your ear with an alcohol wipe, a cocky smirk on his lips when he feels your thighs squeezing into his hips again.

the nickname catches you off guard, and now with you stuck underneath him, your nerves begin to eat at you. not because you’re worried about the pain or the piercing but because he’s playing with you now.

“alright sweetheart, you’re only gonna feel a pinch. are you ready?” simon’s pulling back and looking at you, his eyes tracing your expression and looking for any sign of regret or hesitation.

“i’m ready,” you mumble, your palms pressing into your stomach. you’re a little nervous, but you don’t find yourself running away. he’s tilting your head again, pressing into you with a babble of reassuring statements.

“deep breath in for me.”

before you know it, the needle glides through your ear with minimal discomfort. it’s been your most painless piercing yet, and you understand why simon has the reputation that he does.

“good job, love. did so good.” he praises you, sliding the jewelry into place and leaning back to look at you. his adoration fuels an ache between your legs, and you whine just under your breath.

simon pulls off his latex gloves and presses his hands into your seat, dangerously close to your thighs. “how’d that feel?”

“amazing, you’re really good at what you do,” you say, sitting up in your seat. you tilt your head with a smirk, realizing that he still has you caged into the cushiony chair, unable to maneuver away.

he grins at your words, his tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek before he licks his lips. the ball of his tongue piercing, shining in the light only for a second. “thank you.”

you don’t even register his appreciation, your mind clouding with the thought of his hidden piercing. “did it hurt?” unable to resist the urge, you voice your curiosity.

“hm?” simon hums, a chuckle spilling from his lips. “when i fell from heaven?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, your tongue piercing.”

simon riley’s eyes meet yours with a mischievous glint; he flashes you a confident smile. his lips parted slightly, revealing the small but distinctive piece of jewelry. you find yourself leaning closer to him, watching as he teasingly slides the ball of his tongue piercing against his teeth. the sound, a gentle click, echoed in the intimate space.

“no,” he mutters, lifting your chin as you lean into him. his free hand going to your hip, squeezing it softly.

“w-what does it feel like?”

he hesitates momentarily, seemingly torn between professionalism and the impulse to share a more personal moment. he knows that his attraction is not one-sided, the way you’ve been eyeing him was an obvious sign. you didn’t shy away from his extra touches or the nicknames he whispered in your ear.

“want to find out?” he’s leaning in impossibly closer now, his lips ghosting over yours. and when you nod, he smiles, pressing his lips to yours.

his grip on your chin tightens, his tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth. you gasp softly, the feeling of his cold piercing rubbing against your tongue a feeling you’ve never experienced before. you moan into his mouth when his large hands travel down to your waist, tugging you into his chest; your legs wrap around his waist, and you shamelessly swallow his tongue as he shoves it down your throat.

a knock at the door pulls the two of you apart, breathy gasp and panting quietly filling the room. simon still has that cocky smirk painted on his lips, his chest heaving as he pulls away, “that’s what it feels like.”

he answers his door, leaving you a flustered mess; you quickly gather your things and grab your bag from the floor. you can hear his receptionist telling him that his next appointment is here, and you feel so stupid. reality knocking the air from your lungs, you had just kissed simon, a stranger that you’d only met a couple minutes ago. you shouldn’t expect more, he merely answered a question that you asked.

before you can push past him and out the room, he grabs your wrist, his grip tight. “wait,” simon sighs loudly, pulling you back into him before sliding his business card into the waistband of your skirt, “call me if you have any…questions.”

AN: republishing this with no changes because oh well, i also love being delusional cuz i lowkey fell in love with my piercer.

#[ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. ]#idk how to feel abt this #love it and hate it #i posted it alr but i was very delusional at the time #( 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ )#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty

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vintagerpg · 4 months ago

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Back in the ’90s, a big part of the local punk scene in North Jersey that I bounced around in was centered around street punk and oi bands like Headwound, Niblick Henbane and The Wretched Ones. Their music was stripped down, catchy and their lyrics reflected a mix of working-class life, light hooliganism and, in the case of Those Unknown, grassroots leftist politics. One thing that none of them struck me as? Nerdy.

Fast-forward to 2023 when I stumbled across Harvest, by Philly’s Poison Ruin. Self-described peace punks, the album is a leftist working-class manifesto filtered through the aesthetics of medieval peasantry. It gets weirder! The tunes are gruff head-kickers with a strong sense of ’90s-era production, but there are all these clearly dungeonsynth-influenced interludes and, well, come on, look at that cover. Spooky chainmail guy with a sickle, black on yellow — it’s basically a MÖRK BORG zine. Can’t help but notice that flail is real similar to the one in the Gnoll logo, too…

Poison Ruin reminded me how much I liked aggro-infused music, so I went hunting for more. Most of the stuff I dug up hewed to the ’90s standard of slice-of-life working class lyrics and aesthetics, though many have a strong mix of post-punk and new wave influences, a la later-era Blitz, which is also surprising and intriguing. But some bands have decided to explore even stranger trails.

Enemic Interior, out of Barcelona, mixes oi and post-punk, and their album art, by David Soto, clearly evokes the look of old school RPGs — that ghost on II (2022) is very reminiscent of the ghost from the original Monster Manual — and could easily front dungeonsynth albums. Same for Castillo but more so — the sleeve of their self-titled EP (2020) boasts Sutherland’s green dragon and frost giant from the MM, and the Paladin in Hell from the Players Handbook (I can’t place the wizard). And for Pete’s sake, just look at that cover for Lost Legion’s Beyond the Concrete Veil (2024). It’s not explicitly tied to RPGs, but it could totally be an illustration in Realm of Chaos. And in a million years, I’d never have expected to hear oi this catchy and stompy to also be so entangled with science fiction, psychedelia and Aleister Crowley, but here we are. And, mind-blowingly, when I ordered the Mutant Genes 7-inch, Derek Atkinson at the label was already following my Instagram and popped the vinyl in a custom hand-stenciled sleeve featuring the text of the gelatinous cube entry from the Monster Manual. Fuckin’ wild.

Does this mean anything? I dunno! Medieval fantasy, and the notion of the fantasy dungeon in particular, can be a pretty handy visual shorthand for brutality, whether physical or metaphorical. Just look at all those poor adventurers getting eaten by monsters in the original Monster Manual! Does the frost giant and his huge ax on the Castillo sleeve represent the oppressive, exploitative forces of capitalism? Are frost giants with huge axes just cool now? Two things can be true simultaneously. And, regardless of intent, it’s interesting how the aesthetics have shifted in 30 years. Maybe fantasy is having a moment of broad appeal reminiscent of the last golden era in the ’70s.

P.S.: And, yes, true, the Misfits were into nerd shit way before any of this stuff, but I think horror nerd shit has always had more cachet than fantasy nerd shit? Perhaps because it maps more readily to established masculine norms; there was a big gulf in 198X between Danzig watching Plan 9 from Outer Space and Danzig copping to running a weekly D&D game).

#roleplaying game #dungeons & dragons #tabletop rpg #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Poison Ruin #Lost Legion #Enemic Interior #Castillo #Mutant Genes #Records

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month ago

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Rachel Janfaza at Politico:

New data out of Yale’s Youth Poll broke the internet last week when it revealed a partisan split within Gen Z. Given a generic Democrat vs. Republican ballot for 2026, respondents ages 18-21 supported Republicans by nearly 12 points, while those ages 22-29 backed Democrats by about 6 points. It was a stunning gap that undermined the longstanding notion of younger voters always trending more liberal. On the contrary, today’s youngest eligible voters are more conservative than their older counterparts: According to the poll, they are less likely to support transgender athletes participating in sports, less likely to support sending aid to Ukraine and more likely to approve of President Donald Trump. Fifty-one percent of younger Gen Zers view him favorably, compared to 46 percent of older Gen Z. That split might seem surprising, but it’s only the latest example of an emerging dynamic I’ve noticed developing over the last few years: It’s increasingly clear that there are actually two different Gen Z’s, each with a particular political worldview.

Since just after the 2022 midterm elections, I’ve held listening sessions — open-forums for discussion — with teens and young adults across the country to find out how young people think and feel about politics. I’ve traveled to high school and college campuses, community centers and even homes. And as I’ve written before, these conversations with young people illuminated the distinctions between Gen Z 1.0 and Gen Z 2.0.

Gen Z 1.0, the older segment, graduated high school and tasted independence prior to the start of the Covid-19 pandemic. Their coming of age coincided with Trump’s first term in office and the rise of anti-Trump resistance movements for racial justice and gender equity. Social media apps like Instagram and Snapchat, with all their filters and made-for-social media aesthetics, were commonplace — but TikTok wasn’t yet the massively popular platform it is today. Fast forward to 2020 through today, and those in Gen Z 2.0 came of age under different circumstances. They graduated high school during or after the start of the pandemic, which disrupted their K-12 experience. When many in this cohort began college, it was largely on Zoom, or in a campus environment that barely resembled pre-pandemic times. The political situation was also starkly different: With President Joe Biden in office, Trump and his MAGA movement felt like the counterculture — especially for young men, who swung hard to the right.

Indeed, gender played a prominent role in shaping the youth vote in 2024. An analysis by Blue Rose Research found a 20-point gender gap in Democratic support between men and women ages 25 and younger — the largest such gender gap in any generation by far. “It’s normal to see women supporting Democratic candidates at like a five- to 10-point higher rate than men do,” said Ali Mortell, Blue Rose’s research director. “Among the youngest cohort of Gen Z, it’s north of 20 points. So this is really jarring, and I think, caught the Democratic Party somewhat flat-footed.”

That gender gap has attracted a lot of media attention, but the headlines gloss over some important nuances. While young men turbo-charged Trump’s success in November, they’re not the only Gen Zers shifting right. Despite the overall gender gap, the Yale poll found that, while women ages 22-29 have a net-negative favorability of Trump, those ages 18-21 are more supportive of him, roughly split between a favorable and unfavorable view of the president. Young white women in particular are trending more conservative. Data from Tufts University’s Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement (CIRCLE) shows that, while women of color ages 18-29 overwhelmingly supported former Vice President Kamala Harris, young white women were split between Harris and Trump, 49 percent to 49 percent. That’s a huge jump from 2020, when, according to CIRCLE’s data, young white women voted for President Joe Biden over Trump by a 15-point margin.

That could be in part because some of the most formative experiences separating Gen Z 1.0 and 2.0 cut across gender — the most obvious being the pandemic. “We’ve definitely been cognizant that there feels like there’s a change between the kids who got through high school before and after Covid,” said Jack Dozier, the 19-year-old deputy director of the Yale survey. “There is a huge variation that came up between just the college-age young adults, and then the young adults who are over 22.”

In my own research, I started to hear about Covid’s impact in conversations with young Americans in 2022. Throughout history, young people haven’t liked being told what to do, and for many younger Gen Zers, the pandemic restrictions chafed against their youthful discomfort with authority. At first, they expressed annoyance with what they saw as prolonged social distancing on campuses that impacted the student experience. As one 20-year-old told me in a listening session at the end of March: “The adults don’t have it all together, and they don’t have my back.” When students finally went back to school, they complained about the policing of their behavior — not just regarding Covid protections like social distancing and masking, but also broader issues around language. Our national online discourse, these young people said, had adopted an overt political correctness and cancel culture – the tendency, particularly in online spaces, to denounce others for controversial statements or action. Many young people perceived this as promoted by Democrats — those in control, not just in D.C., but in pop-culture and on social media.

[...] “Young people are not only consuming digital media content, non-traditional sources at much higher rates than older generations, but they’re increasingly getting their news from non-political, non-traditional sources,” Mortell told me. But she took it one step farther: “We are seeing this very clear relationship between defection away from the Democratic Party and TikTok consumption.” The rapid onset of TikTok encapsulates the head-spinning pace of change younger Gen Zers have experienced. There are cleavages within every generation, but perhaps none more so than Gen Z, which has grown up amid the fastest speed of technological and political change in recent memory. When it comes to their politics, time will tell if the rightward shift sticks. Until then, anyone trying to understand this generation’s politics will need to figure out just which Gen Z they’re asking about.

The Yale Youth Poll confirms that there are two Gen Z’s, with the older Gen Z cohort tracking more liberal, and the younger Gen Z cohort, especially young Gen Z men, trending conservative.

We’ll see how this will hold up in a few years.

#Gen Z #Polling #Donald Trump #Yale Youth Poll #Democratic Party #TikTok

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lettucing · 7 months ago

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look of love, rush of blood | chapter two

words: ~4.1k | pairing: jschlatt x she/her, afab reader

summary: Thanks to a not-so-subtle push from your roommate, Joelle, you find yourself crossing paths with Schlatt once again.

notes: ITS FINALLY HERE!! my apologies for taking 5ever, this chapter was originally going to be WAY longer but i wasn't getting it done as fast as i expected to so i decided to split it up into two parts and post them separately. chapter three is gonna go up super soon!!!! <33 (p.s. my apologies for any typos/mistakes, i proofread this thing so many times they probably started going over my head towards the end)

⭑

You’re pulled from sleep by a knock on your door, muffled but persistent.

Before you have a chance to roll over and pretend you didn’t hear it, Joelle’s voice filters through, cheerful and impossible to ignore. You groan, glancing at the alarm clock reading 10:54 AM, before dragging yourself from the tangle of your sheets, last night's drinks still lingering in your head. “Shit.” You think, mentally kicking yourself for sleeping in so late. You’re still half-dreaming when you finally turn the handle and open the door, squinting against the sunlight streaming in from the hallway.

Joelle stands there beaming, a small box of donuts held up like a prize, her eyes sparkling with energy— a vivid contrast to your groggy state. “Ta-daaa!” she says, flipping open the box. “And there’s iced coffee waiting in the kitchen. Don’t say I never spoil you.” Despite the haze of sleep, you smile, following her to the kitchen. “Donuts and coffee? I love you so much.”

You settle in at your small dining table as she nudges a donut, frosted in your favorite color and covered with sprinkles, toward you. “This one’s yours.” she says, watching as you take a bite. You chuckle, mouth half-full. “What’s with the royal treatment? Are you buttering me up to tell me you’re moving out?” Joelle laughs, a mischievous glint in her eye. “No, but... I did make a little move of sorts last night. You might have a couple missed texts from a certain someone awaiting a response.”

Thoroughly suspicious now, you head back to your room, reaching for your phone to scroll through notifications that piled up during Do Not Disturb mode. Emails, Instagram updates, messages… Among the usual chaos and random alerts, one stack of notifications stands out—three texts from a number you don’t recognize.

(2h ago) xxx-xxx-xxxx: hey, y/n xxx-xxx-xxxx: it’s schlatt xxx-xxx-xxxx: i got your number from ted from joelle, hope that’s okay

Your stomach flips.

Oh. Oh my god.

You walk back into the kitchen to face Joelle, who smiles sheepishly. "Ted mentioned he thought Schlatt might regret not getting your number. I just… gave him a little nudge to make it happen."

You blink, still processing what she just said. Joelle’s expression shifts to looking genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry if that was too much, but from what I saw and what I heard from Ted, you two were totally hitting it off at the bar last night. It seemed like a missed opportunity if I didn’t.” You’re torn between being mildly annoyed and unexpectedly flattered. “All i did was spill a drink in his lap.” you mutter, still staring at the texts from Schlatt.

Joelle leans forward in her chair. “Well, clearly it was something more than that to him. And now you’ve got a chance to find out what. So… are you going to reply, or are you just going to leave him hanging?”

You glance back at the messages on your phone, the words “hope that’s okay” echoing in your mind. The temptation to text him back was strong, but your heart races at the thought of it.

“Do you really think I should?” you ask, unsure whether to be thrilled or terrified. “Oh absolutely.” Joelle says with an enthusiastic nod. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You take a deep breath, the phone in your hand suddenly feeling heavier than it should. The last thing you need is to come off as too eager or weird, but at the same time, there’s a part of you that’s excited over the idea of picking up where the night left off with Schlatt.

After composing yourself, you type out a response and save his number.

you: oh hey! yeah, that’s totally okay, no worries :)

You hit send, your heart still racing as you set the phone down. For a moment there’s only silence, the sound of your and Joelle’s breathing along with the distant buzz of the city outside your window providing a strange comfort. You can’t help but recall your interactions with Schlatt from the bar last night– he was charismatic and funny, with just the right amount of playful arrogance that made it clear he was teasing in good fun. Not to mention he was absolutely gorgeous— those broad shoulders, those warm brown eyes…

What was he feeling right now? Is he nervous? Is he as intrigued by you as you are by him?

Just then, your phone buzzes again, jolting you from your thoughts. Joelle cheers. “Aaah! See, he already texted you back!”

Schlatt: awesome. Schlatt: how are you? Schlatt: hungover?

You smile, shifting in your chair as you glance at Joelle, who beams at you in return. The conversation with Schlatt picks up effortlessly, flowing just like it had the night before.

You: i’m good! hangover’s looming a bit, but it’s not enough to keep me in bed, LOL You: joelle woke me up with donuts You: you?

Schlatt: damn. some house guests i have, i didn’t wake up to donuts. Schlatt: i’m good though, i don’t really get hungover

You: oh. lucky you, i guess 😒

Schlatt: yeah, guess so 🫅

You: 🙄 You: anyways…

Schlatt: anyways... what? got anything fun planned for today?

You: honestly, not really. might go for a walk, maybe catch up on some work stuff. nothing exciting.

Schlatt: sounds like a solid plan. i’m doin the same, stayin out of trouble for once.

You: yeah, right. I think we both know that’s not true

Schlatt: fair point. i’ll probably end up in brooklyn robbing a bodega at gunpoint for youtube content

You: oh wow. willing to die for your craft, i respect it

Schlatt: you know it

You: well, enjoy your trouble then. i’ll be over here trying to be a responsible adult

Schlatt: responsible adult? sounds boring

You: yeah. definitely boring.

Schlatt: well maybe we gotta find you a new hobby then. you have an office job, that shit’s depressing

You: hey, it’s not thaaaaat bad

The use of "we" in his message sends a strange flutter through your chest. It feels casual, but there’s something about it that makes your heart beat a little faster.

You set your phone down, glancing over at Joelle, who’s barely holding back her grin. "What?" you ask again, half-laughing. She leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "Just enjoying the show. It’s cute, you know, how you’re trying to play it cool." You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away. “Don’t give me that look,” she teases. “It’s obvious you’re into him. No need to pretend otherwise.” You take a deep breath, leaning against the table as you glance back at your phone. The message from Schlatt still lingers on the screen, his playful challenge hanging in the air. You're not sure why, but something about this feels different, more than just a random flirtation or passing interest.

"Okay, fine," you say, breaking the silence. "Maybe I am a little into him. But I’m not jumping into anything, alright?" Joelle raises her hands. "I'm not entirely suggesting any jumping. But, just so you know, I think he’s got potential." You sigh, trying not to smile at her overzealous enthusiasm. "You’re terrible, you know that?" She shrugs innocently, shit eating grin plastered on her face. "If by terrible you mean ‘helping you get with the potential man of your dreams’, then yes, I do know that."

Your phone buzzes again, snapping you back to the conversation at hand. You glance down at the screen, and a small grin tugs at your lips.

Schlatt: yeah. “that” bad. Schlatt: i’m taking this as a challenge. I could totally make responsible adulthood a little more interesting

Your heart skips a beat. You glance at Joelle, who’s already reading from the seat next to you, waiting for your reaction. Without thinking, you type a response and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

You: yeah i bet. let’s see what you’ve got

Joelle lets out a small cheer, clearly thrilled by your response. "Look at you, taking the plunge." she says, a teasing tone in her voice.

You glance at your phone one more time, wondering if you just made a huge mistake—or if, maybe, it would be the start of something amazing.

⭑

The rest of your weekend flew by all too fast. The texts from Schlatt come more often now, slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of your daily life. At first, you felt a little nervous, wondering if you were reading too much into it. But soon, you realized he wasn’t just texting you for the sake of it— he genuinely seemed interested, and you couldn’t help but feel the same. It’s not a constant barrage of texts, but there’s a steady stream; lighthearted banter, jokes about your attempts to be a ‘responsible adult,’ and more than a few playful digs at each other’s habits. The conversations flow easily, like you’ve known each other much longer than just a few days. The pressure to impress fades, replaced by something more natural— talking for the sake of talking, sharing small moments and mundane details. The kind of banter you’d have with a friend, but with a hint of something more beneath the surface. The casualness of it all makes you feel a little lighter, more at ease. There’s no pressure, no rush, just two people chatting about whatever comes to mind. You realize, somewhere between the light teasing and the late-night message exchanges, that you’ve gotten used to his presence in your day— his humor, his attention, the way he manages to make you laugh without even trying. It felt… right.

By Wednesday, the texting had become a part of your routine.

Your work day drags on until, finally, it’s time to clock out. You walk home through crisp autumn air, the fading sunlight casting a warm orange glow over the city, wrapping you in its familiar hum. The city you loved was alive, but in this moment, it felt peaceful— like you were in your own little world.

You had been home for about an hour when you heard the front door open. You turn to see Joelle, eyes wide with excitement, stepping in from work. "Y/N! Oh my god! I have news!" She kicks the door shut behind her, tosses her purse and jacket onto a dining chair, and plops down on the couch next to you. "Hi, first of all." she says, pulling you into a quick hug. "I hope you had a good day. Second of all, look!” She flips her phone around to show you a text she received from Ted.

TED<33: Hey! A bunch of work friends are here in NYC for a Twitch event and we thought it would be fun to throw a lil get-together for everyone at Schlatt’s place on Friday. We’d love it if you and Y/N came as well :)

You blink, surprised. "Oh wow.” Joelle nods, her excitement palpable. “I know, right?”

Your heart flutters in your chest thinking about seeing Schlatt again, and you knew Joelle had been dying to spend more time with Ted. How could you refuse? You take a deep breath, trying to mask the sudden rush of excitement that floods your chest. "Sure, why not?" you say, a smile beginning to form on your face.

Joelle grins, practically bouncing in her seat. "Yes! I knew you’d say yes!" She leans in, volume dropping. "At least I was hoping you would, ‘cuz I may have already started mentally picking out an outfit. No pressure, but I’m ready to turn heads. And by heads, I mean Ted’s head."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I’ll try to keep up with you."

As Joelle practically skips off to her room to sift through her closet, you find yourself glancing at your phone. All of your messages with Schlatt are still fresh in your mind, and the idea of seeing him again makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t quite explain. It’ll be fine– It’s just a party, right?

You let out a breath, shaking off the nerves as you pick up your phone and type out a message to him.

You: so You: a party, huh?

You get a reply within minutes.

Schlatt: stupid fuckin ted doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, i was gonna invite you myself Schlatt: but yeah. I figured it would be nice to invite all my buddies over while they’re all in ny Schlatt: you comin’?

You: oh yeah, i’ll be there You: joelle wouldn’t go without me, and how could i deny her the chance to see ted again?

Schlatt: god dude he never shuts up about her

You: yeah she never shuts up about him either You: it’s cute tho

Schlatt: yeah. “cute” Schlatt: more like makes me wanna rip my skin off

You: jealous?

Schlatt: hardly.

You: uh huh, sure You: just admit it, you’re secretly a softie

Schlatt: no chance in hell

You: if you say so! You: anyway. what’s the predicted vibe for this party

Schlatt: probably just a bunch of youtubers getting drunk and being loud, you know the usual Schlatt: but i’m sure it’ll be fun

You: oh wow, sounds like a blast You: honestly i’m a little nervous to be around so many ppl i don’t know, but at least i’ll have a good excuse to drink, LMAO

Schlatt: that’s the spirit.

You: what time should we be there?

Schlatt: official time 8 but u can show up whenever, ted will probably text you guys 20 times before then asking when you’re coming though, lol

You: he’s funny. You: well, guess i’ll see you friday at 8?

Schlatt: hell yeah.

Setting your phone down, you smile. You’ll be seeing him again, in person, and that thought has you feeling unexpectedly giddy. You wonder what it’ll be like—if the easy banter you have over text will translate to the real thing. On top of that, there’s the thought of being around so many new people you’ve never met, adding a layer of nerves you can’t quite shake. But maybe it’s better not to overthink it. It’s just a party, and it’s just Schlatt.

"Just Schlatt." you think, the words echoing in your mind. If you’re honest, it’s starting to feel like so much more than just Schlatt.

The two days leading up to the party felt like an eternity, anticipation building up in your stomach like a ticking time bomb of nerves. By Friday afternoon, you were practically buzzing in your seat at work, waiting for the time you could finally leave and start getting ready for the party. You’ve already checked your phone more times than you’d like to admit, hoping for another text from Schlatt that might ease the suspense, or at least give you something to laugh about— but you were met with radio silence. You assume he’s busy preparing to host, but that doesn’t stop your nerves from creeping in. To distract yourself, you turn to outfit options, sifting through your closet until you find something that feels just right—casual, but still nice, adaptable to whatever vibe the other guests might bring.

You’re in the bathroom just starting on your makeup when you hear the front door swing open and Joelle’s excited footsteps coming down the hall. “Hey, Jelly!” you call out, peeking through the cracked bathroom door. Joelle appears in the doorway, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Heyyy, love the outfit! You ready for tonight?” You smile, a tinge of nervousness peaking through. “I mean… I guess? Not like I really have a choice, right?” She grins. “Nope!”

⭑

Forty-five minutes later, you and Joelle are stepping out onto the sidewalk, feeling a rush of nerves as you take in the towering building in front of you– Schlatt’s apartment complex. “Damn, this place is faaaan-cy,” Joelle comments. She looks over at you, and you both share a nervous, excited glance. “Well,” she says with a shrug, already making her way toward the entrance. “Only one way to go from here!”

As you step into the elevator, Joelle glances down at her phone, re-reading a message from Ted. “Top floor, Penthouse 2B,” she reads aloud, eyebrows raised. “Seriously, how rich is this guy?” She nudges you playfully. “Guess you’ve hit the jackpot.” You roll your eyes, nudging her with a laugh. “Stop it.”

The elevator dings, and soon you’re stepping out onto the top floor. The hallway is quiet, softly lit and lined with plush, deep blue carpet. You turn right, leading to a sleek door marked with a plaque that reads:

PENTHOUSE SUITE | 2B

Joelle types out a quick text to Ted as you both approach the door. You take a steadying breath, exchanging a glance with her. “You ready?” She gives you a confident nod. “Hell yeah.”

You raise your hand to knock, but before you can make contact, the door swings open to reveal Ted himself, grinning wide.

"Heyyy, look who finally made it!" Ted booms. Behind him, the room hums with laughter, music, and lively conversation. Ted pulls Joelle in for a quick hug, telling her she looks great, and it’s great to see her again. When he turns to you, his face lights up with a playful smirk. "Well hey, Y/N.” he says, arms already open. You laugh, stepping in for a hug. "Hi, Ted." His enthusiasm is infectious, and thinking back to the bar, you can’t help but realize that this seemed to be typical Ted—friendly, warm, and definitely a hugger.

He steps back, still grinning, and gestures toward the lively scene behind him. “Come on in! I can take your jackets and bags if you want, we’re just tossing them in the closet down the hall.” Ted takes your things as you step inside and heads toward the hallway, leaving you and Joelle alone. You turn to her, shaking your head with a smile. "He’s such a goofball." Joelle leans in close, grinning. "Oh, I know. I need him. Bad." You roll your eyes. "You’re ridiculous." As you look away from Joelle and begin scanning the room, your eyes land on a familiar face.

Schlatt.

He’s completely absorbed in an intense game of beer pong, set up on a plastic folding table in the center of the living room between two couches. Dressed in black jeans and a pale green crewneck, his messy brown curls brushed against his forehead. For a moment, you’re frozen, watching him in the midst of the lively chaos around him. Looking at the lack of cups left on the table, you could tell the game was close. His focus is intense as he lines up to throw the ping-pong ball, eyebrows furrowed.

God, he was handsome. Intensely focused and entirely in his element, you feel yourself drawn to him, your stomach tightening with a mix of nerves and excitement just from being near him.

The moment is broken when the other person on his team, a guy in a black tank top with short light brown hair and an eyebrow slit, claps him on the back. “Let’s go big guy, sink it!” Schlatt rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Dude, i was trying to lock in and focus, and you totally fucked me up.”

You stifle a chuckle as the two of them start bickering, and after a moment, Schlatt takes the shot. The ball sinks into the cup, and he pumps his fist in victory. His teammate raises his hand for a high-five as the two guys on the other side of the table drink from the cup– Schlatt leaves him hanging. Then, his gaze shifts, and for a moment, your eyes lock. Flustered, you raise a hand, giving an awkward wave. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he gives you a subtle wave in return.

Before you even realize it, Ted reappears, pulling your focus from Schlatt’s game. “Alright, guess I'm playin’ host while Schlatt is preocuppied, drinks anyone? We’ve got a ridiculous selection in the kitchen. Beer, tequila, whiskey, vodka, seltzers, literally whatever you want. I’ll be your bartender.” Joelle glances at you, then back to Ted. “Lead the way!”

You follow Ted through the crowded room, weaving past groups of people chatting and laughing, and head into the kitchen. He gestured grandly at the lineup of bottles and mixers on the counter. You scan the options, almost overwhelmed by the sheer variety. “What’ll it be?” Ted asks, leaning against the counter with a playful grin. You glance at Joelle, who’s already eyeing the tequila. “Shots?” she suggests, a mischievous glint in her eye. You laugh, nodding. “Why not?” Ted grins, grabbing three shot glasses and pouring generously. “These are gonna be strong. No complaints after.” You raise an eyebrow playfully as he hands it to you. “I think we can handle a little bit of tequila.”

The three of you clink your glasses together, and you down the shot. The liquor burns on the way down, but the warmth that follows is pleasant. You cough, laughing at Joelle’s exaggerated grimace as she shakes her head. “Smooth.” Ted says with a smirk. “You guys wanna do another?”

“Saving any of that for the rest of us?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you turn around to see Schlatt, running a hand through his hair as he enters the kitchen. He nods at the bottle in Ted’s hand. “Didn’t know we were going hard so early, not that i’m one to talk.” He raises the solo cup in his hand and shakes it, signalling that it was empty.

Ted shrugs, pouring another shot and handing it to Schlatt. “You and Lud win beer pong?”

“Of course we fucking won.” Schlatt shoots back, taking the glass from Ted. “Will and Hasan talk a big game, but they’re pretty dogshit.” He glances at you with a slight smile before turning to Joelle. “You’re Joelle, right? We haven’t officially met—I’m Schlatt.” She grins, nodding. “Yeah, nice to finally meet you!” “Hell yeah.” He raises his glass, and the four of you clink glasses. “Cheers.” he says before downing the shot, face immidiately scrunching up in disgust. “God, I always forget how much I fucking hate tequila.”

Ted and Joelle dissolve into their own conversation– something about a meme they had been texting about earlier, leaving you standing next to Schlatt in silence. You steal a glance at him, unsure of what to say, but he beats you to it. “So, you made it.” he says, folding his arms as he looks you up and down, playful confidence in his gaze. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” “Of course I did,” you reply, matching his smile. “I’m a responsible adult, remember? I follow through with my plans.”

“Right, responsible,” he says, shaking his head with a smirk. “That definitely explains why you’re here, at a party, which you specifically told me you were using as an excuse to drink since you didn’’t know anyone other than me, Ted, and your roommate.”

You feel a flush creep up your cheeks as he calls you out. "Okay, fair," you laugh, raising your hands in surrender. "But hey, technically, I am being responsible— I showed up with Joelle, I’m not drinking alone, and I know I’ll get home safe. That counts, right?" He leans one arm against the counter, smirk still in place. “Yeah, yeah, if you say so. Sounds like a fancy way to justify a night of poor decisions.” “Poor decisions?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “We’re just getting started. Who says any of them will be poor?”

“Oh, now you’re making me curious.” His voice drops slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But really,” he shifts his weight, his eyes darting to the floor, then back up at yours. “It's nice to see you. In person, I mean. Good to know you weren’t just some drunken hallucination and I’ve actually been texting a real person all week.”

You smile, feeling the warmth in your cheeks deepen. “Yeah, it’s nice to see you too.” The two of you hold eye contact, and for a moment, the tension between you lingers, thick and unspoken. Unable to handle it any longer, you break the silence with a light laugh. “But who knows? Maybe I have been a drunken hallucination this whole time. You’re actually just talking to yourself in your kitchen right now.” He lets out a soft laugh, and you continue. “Oh I'm serious, everyone is staring– it’s super weird.”

He rolls his eyes with a grin. “Alright, alright. Now you’re pushin’ it.”

You both chuckle, the moment settling comfortably between you. Then Ted leans in, breaking the pause. “So, what’s next?” he asks, glancing between you, Schlatt, and Joelle. A cheer erupts from down the hall, likely from the latest beer pong game. Schlatt shrugs, nodding toward the noise.

“Wanna play the next round?”

← last chapter ⭑ next chapter →

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #jschlatt fanfic #chuckle sandwich fanfic #chuckle sandwich x reader #ted nivison fanfic #look of love rush of blood #:3

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 7 months ago

Text

Back home p.12

Hii guyss, here's part 12 of the story. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist and if you missed part 11, here it is.

Your life in Monaco was idyllic, growing up alongside the Leclercs. But everything changes when you're forced to leave. Now, returning to the place you once called home, you're confronted with a dilemma: not one, but two Leclerc brothers vying for your heart. Old bonds and unresolved emotions collide-what will you do when the past and present merge in unexpected ways?

The morning sun filters softly through the curtains, and as you stir awake, you realize you’re wrapped in Charles’s arms, his chest rising and falling against your back. Strangely, there’s no awkwardness; it feels natural, as if you both belong there. You’re enveloped in his warmth, and for a quiet moment, you simply savor the feeling. Slowly, you turn, and he stirs awake, blinking a few times before his lips curve into a soft smile.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“Morning,” you whisper back, a smile creeping onto your face.

A few minutes later, you’re both dressed and ready, and Charles guides you out of the hotel and into the bustling paddock. Cameras flash, but he keeps you close, expertly shielding you from the media frenzy. You’ve barely taken in the sights when you arrive at Ferrari’s motorhome, and Charles turns to face you with a grin, pulling his signature cap from his bag. He tugs it down on your head gently, giving you an amused look.

“You’ll need this. I expect to hear your cheers even from the car,” he teases, adjusting the cap on your head.

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I’ll make sure you hear me, Leclerc.”

He grins, and in a moment of spontaneous warmth, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, his voice low and sincere as he looks into your eyes. The world around you fades, and for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

Just then, your phone starts vibrating persistently in your pocket, breaking the trance. You glance at the screen and see Arthur’s name flashing.

“Oh,” you say, breaking into a slightly nervous smile. “It’s Arthur.”

Charles’s expression changes subtly, but he masks it with a quick smile. He releases you, stepping back, though his hand lingers on yours for just a second longer. “Better take it,” he says, his voice warm but with a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

As you answer the call, Arthur’s familiar voice fills your ear. "Hey, just wanted to check in. How’s it going?”

You glance back at Charles, who’s already striding confidently towards the Ferrari garage, giving you one last wave. “It’s great,” you say, “just… great.” You hold the phone close as you watch Charles disappear into the Ferrari garage, his last glance making your heart beat faster.

“Arthur?” you say, shifting to a quieter spot. “So far, everything’s been amazing. Charles has been… well, honestly, he’s been incredible.” You can practically feel Arthur’s silence on the other end of the line, but you continue, biting your lip nervously. “Actually, I have something to tell you… but you have to promise you’ll keep it between us, okay?”

Arthur’s voice comes through, trying to sound casual. “Of course, anything for you. What is it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your cheeks warm. “I think… I think I might have feelings for Charles. I don’t know; it’s just, this whole trip has been—”

Arthur cuts in, his voice strained but controlled. “Y/N, you know Charles. He’s… well, he’s been talking to some girls on Instagram lately. Pretty regularly, actually.” His tone is casual, almost as if he’s mentioning it offhand, but each word hurts you more. “I mean, I just thought you should know. Might be better if you didn’t get your hopes up.”

The air around you seems to shift, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to think. “Oh… really?” you say softly, your chest tightening.

Arthur lets out a faint sigh, though his hand clenches around the phone on his end. “Yeah. Look, I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re important to me, Y/N.” He pauses, his voice softening. “Maybe… maybe it’s best if you don’t put too much stock in Charles.”

Your head feels a little heavier with the news, but Arthur’s voice sounds so sincere, like he truly cares. “Thanks, Arthur. I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always,” he replies, his voice low and possessive, though you don’t quite catch it. “Just remember, I’m here for you—whenever you need me.” You finish your conversation with Arthur, his words lingering in your mind like a shadow over the excitement you’d been feeling. He said he was just looking out for you, and you know he cares, but somehow, his words have left a weight in your chest.

“Y/N?” Charles’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to find him watching you with a gentle smile. “I’m heading out for some tests now. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You nod, giving him a small smile, but it’s not as bright as before. Charles notices immediately, his expression shifting. “Hey… you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to sound upbeat, but there’s a distance in your tone that surprises even you. “I’m just… good luck out there.” You force another smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Charles looks at you, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. He steps a little closer, placing a hand on your arm. “Are you sure? You seem… different.”

You glance down, feeling suddenly unsure if you should share what Arthur said. But you don’t want to burden him before his tests, so you nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go on—focus on your practice. I’ll be cheering from here.” You manage a soft laugh, trying to ease his worry.

His eyes linger on you for a moment, as if he’s searching for answers, but then he nods slowly. “Alright, if you say so.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze on the arm before stepping back. “Just know, I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You give him a nod, watching as he walks off with a hint of reluctance, casting one more glance over his shoulder before disappearing down the paddock.

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