#Why oh why did you think this will be funny in any way

[hazelsmirrorball]

Lacy | Oscar Piastri x Logan Sargent x Fem! Reader

summary: oscar piastri has everything logan sargent could ever wish for but he would trade everything just for y/n to seem him the way he sees her

faceclaim: olivia rodrigo

pairings: oscar piastri x gf!singer!reader, logansargent x friend!singer!reader

a/n: can’t even tell you what is this, but it’s something different that’s for sure. Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language

Logan Sargents eyes wandered all over Oscar Piastri’s apartment. His heart beats to the rhythm of the clock near him. He could feel sweat dripping from his forehead as he waited for Oscar to enter the living room. For a guy that almost exploded his phone with messages for them to hang out; he’s taking a lot of time to pay him attention.

At first he didn’t want to come, but part of him felt guilty if he denied his best friend’s invitation. He couldn’t say he was busy because the McLaren driver could read right through him. He nervously played with his hands trying to think of something, anything but the thought of Oscar’s longterm girlfriend. He felt bad, he couldn’t lie to himself and deny what was going through his head.

But as Logan’s eyes continuously scanned his around his apartment trying to distract himself it was as he saw the ghost of her leaning towards him. Every bit and piece had, y/n’s touch, everything traced back to her.

Her sweet perfume lingered on the couch cushions. While an empty can of her favorite drink sat on the table in front of him. As he kept looking his eyes rested on the small table next to him, the red cherry lipstick that covered her beautiful lips stared back at him as he felt his stomach turn. Pieces of her used handmade bows that had little strands of her hair. Logan let a deep sigh imagining all the times Y/n would come in the paddock with her sweet cherry lips and her beautiful hair flowing in the wind.

Logan’s hand slowly reached for the table in front of him, trying to snap himself out of the trance he was being suck into. How can a thing so sweet ruin all his morals, all his beliefs. He felt guilty, guilty for wanting the one thing that made Oscar Piastri happy.

But why couldn’t he have her? Oscar wasn’t a bad person towards Logan, well at least not directly. Oscar Piastri had everything Logan Sargent ever wanted. A perfect F1 career, a perfect team, a perfect life and the perfect girl. Oscar was smart, attractive and funny, everything opposite from Logan. At least in his eyes. Why couldn’t Logan have this one thing? What did Oscar have that Logan didn’t? He swore he had potential, he just needed time for people to see it. Oscar had the only thing Logan Sargent really wanted, Y/n.

“Sorry, mate! I was busy helping Y/n hang a painting in her room. But my attention is one hundred percent on you now” Oscar said sitting down next to Logan. He slowly scanned Oscar body noticing the familiar lipstick stain adorned on his lips.

As much as Logan wanted to avoid the facts. He found himself stumbling upon the couple everywhere he would go. Photos of them in the paddock, group hangouts, hell even fans would tagged him in their couple pictures. It drove him insane, he tried to rationalize, to call himself. But every single thing Oscar did was poison for Logan, he couldn’t take it anymore. It was like Oscar deep down knew about Logan’s feelings towards her and was out to get him. He wanted to make him suffer, there wasn’t any other reason. Oscar was to get Logan, that was a constant thought in his head. Maybe he was jealous or maybe he idolized Oscar in a way no one else could.

“Oh, it’s no problem really. Mentioning Y/n I don’t know if you remember the text I sent you a few weeks ago” Logan said placing his notebook in the table in front of Oscar and him. Oscar looked at the notebook and nodded

“Yeah! I showed y/n the thing you wrote and she was over the moon! she enjoyed it a lot, she was in a complete writers block so that helped her a lot with writing that new ep she wanted to do. So thank you so much logan, i owe you one big time” Oscar said slightly punching logan shoulder as he forced a smile letting out a chuckle with him.

“that’s what friends are for. But she decided to make the poem into a song? i didn’t think it was that good” Logan responded raising an eyebrow towards Oscar. He simply shook his head and turned towards him.

“I don’t know where or how you wrote that poem. But i trust y/n’s opinion, that song is going to be a hit!” Oscar responded in attempt to shake Logan insecurities. He quietly nodded, feeling a real smile starting to creep up.

“what’s the name of the song?” Logan managed to slip out

“Lacy”

Oh, Logan Sargent Loathed the dazzling starlet that was Oscar Piastri and even though he didn’t have y/n. he would do anything to have Y/n bows around his wrist and her lipstains on places only the two of them would know, even if he had to play the long run.

y/nnnn via instagram!

liked by logansargent, oscarpiastri and 2,368,902 others

y/nnnn so excited for my new single that’s coming out real soon!!! thank you so much to one of my favorite drivers @logansargent that gave me the main inspo to write this song, love you so so much and i wish you guys love this so as much as i do x.

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landonorris for a moment i forgot you were a singer, i thought you were just oscar’s annoying gf

-> y/nnnn shut up

user101 mother is back!!!!

user23 thank you logan for being y/n’s inspiration

user1893 team logan!!!!!!

user78 team oscar!!!

oscarpiastri so talented! i love you so so much

logansargent you are wonderful y/n!! i’m always proud of you and ur music

[biolumien]

and with it, a gentle place...

pt 3 to the samurai!hoshina fic. pt 1 and pt 2 are here.

notes: happy hoshina episode.

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader i dont think any warnings apply but if there are, please let me know ;-; word count: 1359

as it turned out, being the wife of a samurai was far more boring than you could have ever imagined. your life was largely consumed by general diplomacy and far more paperwork. your husband was gone frequently, often complaining about some kind of diplomacy with the narumi clan. 

it left you with hardly anything to do, in any case. 

or well, you could stare languidly out into the distance. that was something you did quite frequently, staring stormily out into beautiful gardens in tedium. you supposed you could technically throw a fit, throw something at a wall, or start acting irrationally–but that might besmirch your newlywed husband’s reputation for most diplomacy. 

so you settled for your naginata.

you spent most of your waking hours in the gardens of your new home, practicing diligently till your movements became a slow and elaborate kind of dance. as new lady of the house, it was your duty, your responsibility, or so you had been told, to defend the house in case it ever came under attack. and the weakened hoshina clan, with a dent in its beautiful, gilded reputation, may come with no shortage of enemies or people who wanted to take advantage of the rapidly forming power vacuum. 

you doubted any real assassination attempt on the new lord of the house would happen, but you trained anyway. you wondered why, as you slashed downwards in a circle, why you would bother with defending a man who was a total stranger to you. why go to the effort? why exist in this loop of tedium and boredom, with so little reward? for a husband who was so busy in his diplomacy efforts that he couldn’t spend time with you? but then again, why did it bother you that he never had time for you? you’d never wanted to be married to him in the first place!

you lower your naginata, letting the blade touch the floor. 

“so you’re the lady of the house!” 

a voice startles you out of your reverie.

your husband is standing next to a younger man, his eyes widened with excitement. his hair was a startling shade of almost white, dressed in shades of soft green. his obi is a dark purple. 

“you’re getting quite good at that,” soshiro says, stepping down to meet you. his kosode is in a dark purple again, layered with a black kataginu vest over top. he cut an intimidating figure, in any case, and he bows to you with a measured smile. “the naginata, i mean. i’m quite flattered you’re putting your all into this.” 

“of course,” you respond, your voice as sweet as honey, edged with venom. “it’s my duty, of course, as the lady of the house now. who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

“oh, him? pardon my manners.” soshiro laughs, but you can’t quite figure out what’s funny. “this is one of my retainers. ichikawa reno. reno, this is my wife. i told you about her already on the way here.”

“nice–nice to meet you,” reno says, bowing to you. “i wanted to meet you!”

you lower your naginata to your side. 

“why?” you ask. “i mean, pardon me.” you laugh, raising your sleeve to your mouth to hide the smile. “i just thought that most samurai of your stations would not bother.”

“well–even so, i’m not most samurai,” reno says, and you laugh at the absurdity of that statement, fully. his face flushes a little bit, and you reach out to pat him on the head.

“don’t worry about that, ichikawa. i am quite flattered you deigned to introduce yourself to me.” you smile, and reno nods. 

“of course.” 

“now, now, reno,” soshiro says, patting reno on the shoulder. “why don’t you give me and my wife some privacy for a second?”

“okay,” reno says, bowing to soshiro, and then to you before rushing off.

you watch reno leave, a soft huff leaving your lips.

“nice kid,” you say. 

“our families have been allied for generations,” soshiro says, watching reno run off as well. “he has the  weight of expectation upon his back, too, as the youngest.”

“mm. i see. so what is it you wanted to talk to me about, then?” you ask. “you’re so rarely in the house these days, i’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“please, dear,” soshiro says. “i’m not trying to avoid you.”

you can’t even tell if he’s being honest.

“discussions with the narumi clan grow sour, mostly because i have no stomach for their son, who, coincidentally, also has no stomach for me! can you believe it?” soshiro laughs, raising a hand to push back his hair. 

“... i suppose you don’t want to hear my actual answer.”

“not quite,” soshiro amends. “you have a fairly nasty look on your face.”

“do i?” you smile. 

“hm.” soshiro watches you, staring down at your naginata. “do you want to spar?”

“spar?” you raise an eyebrow. “what would a samurai such as yourself want to do with sparring with his wife?”

“can’t this samurai be curious about what kinds of things his wife gets up to?” soshiro asks innocently, but draws his katana from his belt, unsheathing it and holding it in front of him in a prepared stance. in response, you hold your naginata at your side, ready as well.

“i stare out into your estate’s gardens,” you say. “and sometimes i do embroidery. and other times, i train alone.” and other times, i wish i had taken that dagger and killed you after all–better to have been known for that than to fade away like this. you choose not to say that. 

“i see.” soshiro’s gaze flits for a moment.

“why do you ask?” you say.

“just curious. like i said,” soshiro says. he takes a breath. “but whenever you’re ready.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, you spin your naginata forward, sweeping the blade downwards. he catches it just barely with his katana, parrying the blow. you realize in a small thrill that you have a farther reach than him–that he has to actively fight to close the distance in front of you. he raises his katana, bearing down hard against the handle of your naginata as you flip it upwards.

“not bad,” he says.

you furrow your brow, pushing him off before you whirl your spear again, forcing his hand to the side.

“it’s been monotonous training,” you respond, whirling your spear for another hit. he deflects it, moving in to strike, but you push him back. 

“isn’t it better, then, that i spar with you? as a skilled opponent?” soshiro manages to close the distance yet again, his face and his blade dangerously close to yours.

“you’re a skilled samurai,” you retort, pushing him away again, but just barely. “i think that’s hardly fair, going up against me.”

“come of it,” soshiro responds, feinting for a second–you move to block, but he swings upwards instead, and you startle backward. “there are assassins aplenty that might try to kill you, and doubtlessly far more skilled than even me. i just want you–”

“you know, i’m getting awfully tired–”

as you step forward, spinning the naginata downwards–you watch as soshiro prepares to parry whatever side blow might be coming next–and then you throw the naginata ever so gently, closing the distance to grasp his wakizashi where it remains at his side. soshiro exhales. 

“--of what everyone says they want for me.” you pull his wakizashi from his belt, unsheathing it. 

it’s silent for a moment, save for your heaving breaths and the sound of birdsong. 

would he let you kill him?

you drop the blade soon after thinking the thought, leaning down to pick up your naginata.

“i think we’ve done enough,” you say. “i will return to my quarters.”

you wonder why your face feels so hot as you turn away. you wonder why you wish he would have lowered his blade and kissed you. you raise a hand to your lips, tracing your bottom lip with a finger. 

you hate the way your heart wants to move for him. 

you do. you do hate it. right?

[violetarks]

when he overhears you speaking to one of your friends about confessing to your crush soon, osamu prepares himself for the worst.

he’s always been in his brother’s shadow, and nearly everyone who has ever talked to him did so for the sake of getting closer to atsumu. just because you two sit next to each other in class and talk a lot doesn’t mean you are automatically different. it could be that you only smiled at him the way you do because you somehow knew that osamu thought about you 24/7, and you liked playing a little game on him.

and so what if you got along with atsumu? and when you three would walk to and from class together, you would butt heads and he’d smile at your behaviour. it didn’t mean a thing, did it?

except it did. and he is more than annoyed at that.

“well, why don’cha asked her out?” atsumu asks his brother that day as they walk home, “she could be confessin’ to you.”

“i dunno’,” osamu replies as he stares at the ground, “jus’ think she’s not gonna’ ask me, ya’ know?”

“yer’ an idiot, ‘samu,” atsumu dodges a whack in the head, “go n’ ask her out! this is yer’ chance!”

“ugh, whatever, tsumu…” osamu doesn’t say anything more, but he secretly hopes his brother is right about this. he plans to ask you out tomorrow after school.

but his plans get interrupted when he and his brother get to their shoe lockers and a letter sits in atsumu’s. they stare at it as atsumu carefully unfold it.

it’s a confession, but not just any — it’s yours. osamu would recognise that handwriting anywhere.

“dear miya,

“i have been wanting to say this for the longest time — i have feelings for you. it has taken me so long to gather the courage to admit this to you in hopes that you reciprocate my feelings. you are kind and genuinely funny, and your smile makes my heart burst. i think that you’re one of the sweetest people i’ve ever met.

“i do not expect you to answer me straight away, but know that i wait for your response. thank you for being such a wonderful person to me. i couldn’t imagine a better person to be near.

“l/n”

atsumu slowly turns to his brother as he rereads it ten times now.

“osamu—”

“i knew it.” osamu interrupts as he slams his shoe locker shut and trudges into the building.

people watch him as he marches passed them. when he makes it to his homeroom, you’re sitting at your desk and scribbling down something on your notebook. he takes a deep breath in and sits at his spot.

“oh, osamu,” you mumble out as you see him, “i, uh… did you see my letter?”

“‘course i did.” his voice is sharper, which catches you off guard.

“y—yeah? what do you think?”

“i don’t wanna’ talk about it,” he grunts as he looks away from you, “i don’t even care.”

you stare at the back of his head before deciding to be quiet. perhaps he just wasn’t in the mood to talk.

at lunch, osamu and atsumu usually eat with the volleyball team in the cafeteria, but atsumu can’t help but feel his brother’s sadness radiate ofd him. he excuses himself from the table and makes a beeline for you.

“yo, y/n,” atsumu speaks up. you and your friends look up from your food to see the heartthrob staring at you. “can i talk to you for a sec?”

“oh… sure,” you say as you get up. you follow him outside the building to talk in the empty hallway. “is something wrong?”

atsumu rubs the back of his head. he doesn’t know how to explain his rejection, it’s different because he knows that osamu genuinely likes you. usually, he’s just flat out say it. but this was hard.

“look, about yer’ confession—”

“why didn’t osamu like it?” you interject with your hands playing with each other. you stare at the floor with furrowed brows. “i don’t understand…”

“huh?” atsumu scoffs with crossed arms. he doesn’t understand you. “what are ya’ talkin’ ‘bout? osamu’s in love with you, y/n!”

“but,” you mumble with hot cheeks, “he—he said he didn’t care!”

“oh my god, y/n,” atsumu groans with a roll of his eyes, “of course he’d care about you confessin’ to his brother! why else do ya’ think he’s pissy?”

you freeze up at that and don’t say a word.

“look, i’m just here to say that i don’t return yer’ feelings, okay?” he sighs to you, “and i don’t think i ever could. i just see you as a friend of my brother’s, and i would never do that to ‘samu.”

“who… said i was confessing to you?”

it’s atsumu’s turn to be confused. he tilts his head.

“you… what?”

“i was confessing to osamu. i—i mean, i didn’t put his name because i got a little nervous and wrote it very formally, but still,” you explain to atsumu, “i wasn’t… the letter wasn’t for you. i’m sorry, no offence whatsoever, atsumu. i just… i just see you as my friend’s brother.”

“oh crap,” atsumu facepalms and wipes his jaw, “you put it in my locker by accident, ya’ idiot.”

“what?” you shriek in embarrassment, “i—i’m sorry, i thought osamu’s locker was the top one.”

“well, now you know it’s mine,” atsumu chuckles out. he reaches out and ruffles your hair. “go n’ talk to yer’ boyfriend, he’s been down all day.”

“i’m sorry, atsumu,” you apologise again with an embarrassed face. he feels kinda’ bad after spending the whole day being angry at you. “ah, this is the worst! no wonder he hasn’t spoken to me all day…”

“yeah, how could ya’ fuck up so bad?” he laughs at you.

“‘tsumu!”

“i’m not gonna’ help you, loser!” atsumu claims as you jab him in the stomach, “this ain’t my mistake.”

“ugh, whatever, just—”

the cafeteria door opens and out walks osamu. he looks left and right before he sees the both of you standing close together.

“atsumu,” he calls out, “c’mon, kita wants to talk to us.”

“r—right!” he walks over to his brother as you stare at your peer. osamu refuses to look at you.

“osamu,” you say to him as his brother walks back into the cafeteria. osamu stops on his tracks involuntarily, and can’t find himself to continue on. he lets you come closer. “can i talk to you after school today?”

“i have practice.” he responds.

“i can wait,” you say hastily, “just want to talk to you.”

he glares a little at you for a bit, but then reluctantly nods his head. you let him go and decide to finish your lunch with your friends and explain to them your situation. you get a few giggles, but you can’t blame them.

you watch from the entrance of gym as the twins practice their attack. the other players are resting and drinking from their bottles. you try to hide from around the corner and keep and eye on the younger twin, but you get caught by the captain.

“kita!” you jump as the captain blocks your view, “i’m sorry, i’m just waiting for the twins to finish.”

“you’re waiting for osamu, right?” he asks you as he looks to the said twin, “he is usually a little late to practice because he likes to walk you to your bike.”

“i’m sorry.” you sheepishly say.

“it’s fine,” he replies, “you wanted to speak to him? you may wait inside, if you’d like. it is cold out there.”

“oh? hey y/n,” suna calls out to you as he wipes his forehead, “come to watch?”

before you can say anything, kita is escorting you to sit on the stage. he lets you out your bag beside you and even asks if you’d like to see a little practice game while you were here. you say ‘yes’.

osamu can’t help but look over his shoulder at you every time a point is scored and he gets to catch his breath. one of the last times he does that, you’re already looking at him and wave a little. for a moment, he forgets everything and he waves back too but he doesn’t hear the whistle blow. he does, however, feel the volleyball hit the side if his head.

“hah!” atsumu laughs out loud from the front line. he watches his brother fall back with a red mark on his cheek. “pay attention, dumbass!”

“shut up, fleabag!” osamu groans from the floor. the game stops and everyone crowds around him.

“okay, let’s just get him up ‘n get a sub,” aran says as they lift the guy up from his feet. they walk him over towards you. “l/n, can you please look after him? make sure sure he doesn’t sleep.”

“o—oh, yes, okay…” you mutter back as osamu holds the side if his face and slumps beside you. he furrows his brows and looks away from you. “are you okay? you were doing pretty well.”

“yeah? betcha’ didn’t even notice with yer’ loverboy showin’ off his muscles for ya’.” he grumbles out.

“can we talk about this morning, ‘samu?” you plead, “it was a huge misunderstanding.”

“yeah, it was.” he says back to you.

you go quiet and look back to the practice game. the whistle blows, spikes are hit and points are won. you’ve begun to lose interest after what osamu had said to you. admittedly, he feels a little bad for being so rude to you, but he doesn’t go on.

deciding to not embarrass you more, you hop off the stage and grab your bag before you walk to the exit. osamu watches carefully at how you clench your fists at your side and you ignore how suna calls your name.

the practice goes on like normal and osamu joins the game soon after you leave. when training ends, atsumu smiles at his brother and walks beside him on the way home.

“so, how’d it go?” he chirps, “did y/n talk to ya’?”

“i didn’t wanna’ hear it,” osamu retorts as he trudges through, “it—”

“what? ‘samu, you idiot!” atsumu groans as he wipes his face, “y/n likes ya’, and messed up the confession by puttin’ it in my locker. i went to reject ‘em but i found out and told ‘em to tell you the truth.”

osamu stops as stares at his brother in disbelief.

“yeah, look at yer’ dumb fuckin’ face now!” atsumu shouts as he points an accusatory finger at osamu, “you two, i swear to god…”

“i—i’ll be right back, meet ya’ at home, ‘tsumu!” osamu shouts loudly as he begins running.

he knocks at your door ten minutes later, frantically waiting for you to answer. he’s huffing and puffing with his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

when you open the door, in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair undone, he holds his breath.

“osamu? what’re you doing here?” you ask him.

“i really like ya’ and i wanna’ take ya’ out on a date,” he blurts out without letting you explain. his exhales turn into puffs of cold smoke while he stands outside. your face begins to freeze just by opening the door. “i’m sorry for bein’ a dumbass n’ not listenin’ to you. atsumu told me everything and—”

you take his freezing hand and pull him inside and close the door behind the both of you. osamu shuts up as you press your warm hands to his face.

“god, you’re shivering, ‘samu,” you point out. you drag him to the kitchen and grab your blanket from the couch. wrapping him up, you heat the kettle. “i’ll make you some tea.”

he lets out a small hum in thanks. now he’s embarrassed to say anything.

“it’s okay, osamu,” you tell him, “i get why you’d be so upset. but i really wanted to confess to you… i’m sorry too. do you think we could—”

as you turn around to him, osamu is already making his way to you. he presses a kiss to your lips as he wraps the blanket around the both of you. your hands find his waist and you tug him closer as you melt against him. osamu, ever the inexperienced, is much too eager for a taste of you. he is a bit of a messy kisser, but once you reach a hand up to hold his cheek and guide him, he’s found his groove.

you were a good kisser. he wonders if you’ve thought about kissing him as much as he’s done to you.

when you pull away, he’s as red as a tomato.

“you better.” you chuckle as you kiss where he was spiked in the face.

“i’ll go out with you, ‘samu.” you say softly to him.

“thank you,” he replies, “i promise i’ll treat ya’ well.”

his phone begins to ring. pulling away, osamu sees his brother’s name pop up on his screen.

“GET BACK HERE N’ GIVE ME THE KEY, OSAMU!” atsumu begins to yell at osamu, “IF YER’ DONE MAKIN’ OUT WITH Y/N, I WANNA’ GET INSIDE N’ OUT OF THE COLD ALREADY! IF YER’ NOT HERE IN TEN MINUTES I’LL KILL YA’!”

“okay, okay, ‘m sorry,” he quiets down, “say ‘hi’ to y/n.”

“hey, y/n,” atsumu says to you.

“hi, ‘tsumu.”

“get yer’ boyfriend over here before i freeze my tits off, ya’ hear?”

“okay, ‘tsumu.”

he hangs up without another word. osamu takes off your blanket and folds it on the couch as you turn off the kettle.

“‘m sorry, i forgot to give him the key.”

“it’s okay, ‘samu, just make sure you two get warmed up,” you retort. you walk him to your door and even holds him hands, bring them to your lips and try to heat them up. “i’d hate for you to be sick on our first date.”

“right…” he whispers out. you smile at him.

“get home safe.” you say to osamu after you lean up and kiss his cheek. he nods at you before walking off in the direction of his home.

he’s got some dumb smile on his face once he reaches his house. atsumu, however, is squatting down by the door with his scarf wrapped around his face and his hands tucked under his pits. he’s red with annoyance.

“‘bout fuckin’ time, asshole,” he grumbles out as osamu pulls out the keys from his pocket, “ya’ tell me to leave my keys at home but forget to gimme’ yer’ set. in the dead of winter. look at ya’, you’re smilin’ like it’s nothin’!”

osamu opens the door and allows atsumu inside first.

“me n’ y/n are goin’ on a date.” he tells his brother.

“oh, is that what you were ‘bout to sacrifice yer’ brother for?” atsumu grumbles out as he sets the heater on a warm temperature, “finally you two are together.”

osamu smiles to himself as he heads to his room. you have lovely handwriting, now that he thinks about it.

[chukys-mouthguard]

#2 fluff/angst for quinn hughes pls !! love ur writing !!! 🖤

Prompt: “Your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.”

Note: Quinn just gives me the vibes of being someone that gets overly annoyed with your “emergency texts” to the point that he ignores you any time you say it’s an emergency figuring you’re being dramatic 😂

Thank you so much! 🫶🏼 I’m so happy to hear you enjoy my writing, hopefully you love this!

“Quintin, fucking, Hughes!” 

You yelled out into your boyfriend’s apartment as you slammed the door. Tossing your bag onto the kitchen counter as you removed your shoes. 

Soon he’d appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he headed down the hall in your direction. 

“Oh you think it’s funny?” 

“Honestly, no, because now my floors are wet. Are you cleaning that up?” 

Quinn crossed his arms across his chest as he looked you up and down. Eyeing your soaking wet frame that was dripping all over the entryway of his apartment. You’d been on your way to Quinn’s place when your car broke down about 5 minutes away. Naturally you called your boyfriend to come and pick you up, but he didn’t answer. 

Figuring he maybe had fallen asleep or was in the shower, and it was only a 10-15 walk, you took your chances. However, you’d instantly regretted that 5 minutes in when it started to downpour. Of course trying to call Quinn again, but no answer. 

“Quinn, my fucking car broke down and you left me to walk in the pouring rain! That’s kind of an emergency situation. Why didn’t you answer? I even texted you! Clearly you were awake, you just ignored me?”

He rolled his eyes as he went to grab a towel for the floor. 

“I saw your text saying it was an emergency, but your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.”

He tossed the towels onto the floor as he began cleaning up the water that pooled at your feet. A sigh leaving his lips as you were shocked that he actually seemed upset with you. 

“Oh yeah, because a text saying car broken down, pouring rain, can you come get me please, is definitely not an indication that this is more of a fucking emergency then me not having sweets at my place during my period Quinn!” 

He picked up the towels with a laugh as he shook his head, “have you been around you on your period? It’s literally world war three if you run out of sweets.” 

Ignoring Quinn and his disgruntled attitude, you headed to the bathroom to shower. Quinn returning back to his room, rejoining the video games he’d been playing all night with his brothers. 

He listened for the sound of the shower to cease to know you were done. Figuring he should be kind enough to take you some clothes, considering he did ignore you and force you to walk in the pouring rain. 

Softly knocking on the door, Quinn held out a shirt and some shorts for you, flashing an apologetic smile as you thanked him and closed the door. 

Despite your frustrations with Quinn, you couldn’t stay mad at him. It was only rain, thank god it wasn’t snow. Sure he probably could’ve stopped playing video games for the 10 minutes it would’ve taken him to come and get you, but it wasn’t worth you two arguing over or going to be upset. 

Joining him in his bedroom, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Watching as he finished up his game, before turning things off for the night. 

He relaxed in your arms as he sighed, “I’m sorry…I should’ve picked up. I just, you cry wolf a lot so I figured you were joking around.” 

His hand taking yours as he pulled you into his lap, kissing your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. Trying to show his sincerity as best as Quinn could. Feeling bad for getting upset with you when he was in the wrong. 

“I get it, I often make up stories or exaggerate. But I mean…did you not hear the storms outside? I obviously didn’t lie about that.” You both laughed as he covered his face in embarrassment. 

“Babe, with these headphones on and Jack and Luke screaming half the time, a murderer could come in here and I’m not hearing shit.” 

You rolled your eyes as you kissed his lips, letting him know you weren’t upset. The situation easily being one to get over. 

“Well, ignore me next time I have an emergency and I might just be that murderer who comes to kill you while you’ve got those things on!” 

“Oh trust me, I’m never ignoring a single text or call from you ever again after tonight!” 

[heian-era-housewife]

more realistic smut please (I'm begging)

Idk why but somehow it was more erotic may God help me with this need TO FUCK THESE MEN

No need to beg! There are more on the way 😁 The big all-in-one post took me out though, so I'll be doing individual releases this time around.

Anon, I feel ya. I'm so down bad for these guys it's not even funny. 😩

Please enjoy some Choso in the meantime and thanks so much for reading!

~Yuri

Synopsis | Choso learns that not everything on the internet can be trusted. But he can always trust in you ♡

Content | mdni, Choso x fem!reader

This is part 2 of a "realistic" smut series. Read part 1 here!

Choso is ready. He's done his research. He's come prepared. Armed with new knowledge and bolstered by fresh confidence, he wants nothing more than to show you what he's learned and put the memory of your most recent amorous encounter behind you both. That's why he flashes you a clever grin as he pulls out not one, but two condoms to set on your bedside table.

"Ooh, someone's been thinking ahead!" You praise him, taking notice. "Always good to have a backup."

"I didn't want a repeat of last time," he recalls, one bashfull hand rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I did some reading up on my own this time."

"Impressive!" You coo.

With a coy smile, he slides on the first condom, watching as you give your hips a little wiggle of anticipation. Ready to impress, he reaches for the second.

"Wait, Cho, what are you doing...?"

"I told you," he smirks. "I don't want a repeat of last time, so I'll be wearing two. They call it 'double bagging.'"

"Oh...Cho, that's not ummm..." you squirm, trying to find the right words.

"What's wrong?"

"That's actually not the best idea, despite what some people might think. They're actually more likely to rip or come off..." your voice trails away watching as his face falls. "It's not your fault, though!" You hasten to reassure him. "The internet is full of misinformation. I'd love to hear what else you've learned!" Face brightening, Choso scooches forward eargerly for his chance at redemption.

"Let's see..." he recollects. "Size isn't as big a deal as people make it."

"Good! I'm glad you understand that," you encourage.

"Oh! And communication is really important!"

"Absolutely! You can always be open and honest with me, Cho!"

"I know," he says. "That's why I haven't been faking any of my orgasms!"

"Oh, wow I-" It's all you can do not to burst out laughing. "I figured as much."

"Speaking of fake, I never realized porn could be so misleading!"

"Yeah...unfortunately it's full of misconceptions and myths," you agree.

"Yeah! Like the g-spot!"

"Oh. Actually, that one's real," you can't help but laugh this time. "It's just really hard to find. We'll work on it."

"Ughhh!" He cries in frustration, falling back against the bed. "How does anyone figure this all out?!"

"Time and patience. Lots of practice," you say with a wink. "And you don't have to rely on the internet alone. You can always come to me with questions, you know."

"There is something I wanted to ask you!" He remembers, sitting up. "What's a MILF?"

"A MILF?!" You repeat in surprise.

"Yeah! I keep getting these advertisements. Whatever it is, there are dozens in our area!"

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune ♡

[foggieststars]

💘... lestappen ofc <33

ok in my mind. charles tried to flirt with max once at a party and max was clueless which charles interpreted as rejection and now Loathes max bcs of it......now please enjoy lestappen seven minutes in heaven??

--

“Lando did this on purpose, you know,” Charles scowls, as Max closes the closet door behind them. 

“Did what?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow. It pisses Charles off, like everything Max does pisses Charles off. 

“Made sure we would be in here together.” 

“Really?” Max asks, leaning back against the closet wall. He folds his arms across his chest. “I had no idea Lando was so talented.”

His tone is thick with disbelief.

“You are being stupid,” Charles snipes. “He could have put something in the bottle, to make it land on me. Or maybe he is just good at –” Charles says, making a spinning motion with his hand. “He did something.” 

Max snorts. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he thinks it is funny. He knows that we - you know.” 

Max inclines his head. “We?” 

Charles huffs a heavy breath. “He knows that we do not like each other.” 

“Really?” Max asks, mouth curving into a smile. “I like you just fine, Charlie.” 

Charles takes a steadying breath. “I have asked you not to call me this.” 

Max says nothing, just watches him with that familiar heavy gaze. It sets Charles’ teeth on edge, makes his skin prickle. Max is always watching him, like he’s looking for signs of weakness, waiting to pounce. Charles had been stupid enough, once, to think it meant something more, that the way Max looked at him meant anything at all. 

Charles knows better, these days. 

He opens his mouth to say something, uncomfortable with the silence, when there’s a loud bang on the door. 

Charles jumps. Max just laughs, showing all of his white teeth. 

“Hearing far too much conversation in there, boys!” Lando calls through the heavy wood. “Doesn’t exactly sound like you’re speaking French, if you know what I mean.” 

Charles closes his eyes, tries to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on how he’s going to kill Lando once he gets out of here. 

It’s just seven minutes. Charles can do seven minutes. In fact, there must be less left to go by now, right? 

Charles opens his eyes, ready to ask. He knows Max has a dorky, glow in the dark digital watch. 

But Max is - he’s moved off the wall. He’s closed the distance the tiny closet afforded them, barely any space left between their bodies. 

“Are you going to keep whining?” Max whispers. Charles watches his lips move, swallows hard.

“I am not whining,” Charles insists, heart beginning to pound in his chest. Max brings a hand up, cups Charles’ jaw. He thumbs over Charles’ cheek, and Charles thanks God that it’s dark in here, so Max can’t see the heat in his face. Maybe he can feel it, though. His palm is rough against Charles’ skin. “Always you are making things up.” 

“Charles?” Max says. 

“Yes?” Charles breathes, watches Max’s tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Shut up.” And then Max is - oh, God, Max is kissing him. It starts off slow, gentle, nothing more than a chaste press of lips. Charles wonders if this is all it’s going to be, if Max is - what? Is he doing this to embarrass him? So he can come out of the closet afterwards and crow to all their friends that Charles melted like putty in his hands? 

Except, then Max is tugging him closer, tongue slipping into Charles’ mouth, and Max’s hands find Charles’ waist, and - oh, there’s the firm press of Max’s body against his own. Max’s thumbs sit right in the dip of his waist, and when he squeezes Charles lets out a pitiful noise. 

Max smiles into the kiss, nipping at Charles’ bottom lip. Charles groans, uncomfortably aware of the thumping bass on the other side of the door. That all their friends are just a few feet from them, that they can probably hear the embarrassing noises he's making.

It makes an uncomfortable warmth stir in the pit of Charles’ stomach. Or maybe that’s just the way Max’s thigh has slipped between his own, giving him something to bear down against. 

And that’s just - fucking ridiculous, is what it is. Charles hates Max, everybody knows that. He’s never forgotten the way Max had made him feel that first time they’d met, small and stupid and completely unwanted. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s so clearly enjoying himself, the warm, wet drag of Max’s tongue against his own, the firm press between his legs. 

Max breaks the kiss, both of them breathing heavily. Charles can feel his face prickling, where Max’s stubble has rubbed his cheeks raw. Max ducks his head, scrapes his teeth across Charles’ throat. 

Charles has seen the way Max watches him sometimes, at parties like the one tonight. Like he hates Charles. There’s a sharp, stinging pain in the side of his throat, and for one truly insane, wild moment Charles thinks Max really might be trying to rip his throat out, except –

“Did you just give me a fucking hickey, Max - I swear to God –” 

“Shut up,” Max grunts, again, and Charles is really starting to feel offended. Max won’t stop telling him to shut up, won’t stop kissing him like he wants him. Which Charles knows he doesn’t. 

“Max,” Charles gasps, as Max turns his attention to the other side of his throat. He can’t stop bucking up against Max’s thigh between his legs, can’t stop being horrifyingly obvious, wearing his treacherous want on his sleeve. Lando could pull that door open any second. “Max - what are you –” 

“Come home with me,” Max says, pressing another kiss to Charles’ open mouth, top lip, catching his cupid’s bow, wet and messy. 

And - oh. Oh, okay. That’s not what Charles had been expecting to hear.

“I - Max,” Charles gapes. “We can’t. The party, I have only been here for twenty minutes, my God –” 

“Fuck the party,” Max murmurs. Their lips brush as he speaks, so close together. “Are you coming home with me? Or not?” 

Charles swallows, lips tingling, throat stinging. Is he really going to do this? Throw two years of pointless hatred down the drain, not knowing what waits on the other side? Whether Max is going to take him home and keep him, or throw him away in the morning? 

Charles knows his answer. Had known it the first time he’d seen Max across the room at a party two years ago.

“Yeah,” Charles says, but it comes out as more of a sigh. He hopes it sounds long-suffering rather than wistful. “Yeah, okay.” 

Max’s face splits into a smile, and it’s - he’s beautiful. He fumbles for Charles’ hand in the dark, threads their fingers together. He presses a final chaste kiss to Charles’ cheek, like the wings of a butterfly brushing against his skin. 

“Good,” Max says, and squeezes his hand tight. 

Charles squeezes back.

[blood-grove]

unnatural bleeding

merfolk au!

previous <- part 5 -> WIP

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn.

a/n: hehehhehehe finally new update :3 got rid of the rude reader tw cuz reader is gonna be annoyed at the world at best angry at worst plus i dont think ive been writing them rudely so also forgive me if the writing pov changes weirdly idk i have a hard time staying focused and consistent ill try better

tags; @chickennn-soupp @cassiecasluciluce @sans-chara @lethargicluv  @kaoyamamegami

What the hell was this place.

It seems all they did was stare at you and when you would clearly get sick of the mumbles and looks you'd splash them and they'd fucking laugh.

They were weird and the Gaz guy was weirder.

You found later his name was actually Kyle and he meant to clarify earlier.

But you found the silly nickname funny.

But this wasn't fun.

Being propped up on a large mat next to the side of the pool the leather felt uncomfortable under you, You also felt way too exposed as a few humans looked over your stitches and wrappings.

It felt weird there hands weren't rough but no one besides a few have touched you like this they were talking about something you'd care less to pay attention too.

As they examined you, Gaz kept trying to pull your attention away from the other humans.

Oh?

Was he jealous?.

Humans are so fickle it's funny.

-

Christ.

Even working with merfolk in the past Gaz still never got used to the bigger ones like you.

Scarface as you've been suitably nicknamed for the moment been alright and cooperative so far no biting or thrashing.

He'd likely guess the wounds were causing you to be so irritable they didn't look good when they first arrived problem had a couple of parasites on them along with other infections that are still being treated.

Price was observing the whole check up process.

You didn't speak much at least not to any of the other staff.

There were a few problems though.

Firstly they found you solo but there was still likely you belonged to a pod but which is the question.

Secondly, they couldn't keep you in the medical pool forever you were wild to some extent it would be cruel to keep you from you family.

Thirdly during your surgery, they'd found a piece of metal that didn't look important it was kept to be looked over in case it helped discover why you were in such a state, Price already guessed territorial fighting but you clearly (no offense) couldn't pick your battles.

Some of these scars and bites could have been lethal.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as you shifted clicking in annoyance he was quick to reach over for another fish from the bucket nearby by offering it up in an attempt to distract you.

"Are all humans this pokey?"

"No Scarface we just..need to make sure your healing okay..Then we can release you."

Kyle huffed as he gave you an honest smile ignoring the glare and grumble he received in return, You still took the fish though idly crunching on it.

They eventually finished the examination without much fuss except for you not so subtly tripping the newest volunteer who honestly should have been starting off with a much smaller mer than you.

But you start off somewhere.

Speaking of which it's about lunch time for them now and his break time, Kyle oversaw you getting back into the pool without much struggle before he left your area visiting by Price to mention he was going on his break before grabbing his lunch and heading to the docks.

He'd usually not have to wait long before they'd show but it'd seemed they were late.

It wasn't long till a familiar face popped up flashing teeth and all.

"Hey, Soap!" Kyle grinned as he looked to see the shark mer propping up his elbows onto the dock.

"Ghost comin'..?"

"Ah in a bit he's still getting his bearings.."

Now he was confused the last time he'd seen the pair and given them there updated shots and tags they'd been great.

The pair were unusual a Shark and Orca together seemed unheard of but yet just a few years ago now when Kyle had fallen overboard during an solo observation trip Ghost saved him from drowning.

Both of them were odd in a good way, Simon having been outcasted by his pod but he doesn't like to talk about it.

He had lots of scars all telling of countless battles of either for his territory or from just fights.

As for Soap, Sharks were solitary regardless but Soap had his own set of scars from fights some he shouldn't have tried starting.

"Bearings? What happended?.."

"Another fuckin' Orca smaller not as experienced grabbed me a few days back, Si really fucked em' up till the bastard clocked him on the head with there tail-"

Wait.

"Jesus , Where is he? I can get a team out and-"

"Ah ye know how he feels about humans..Plus he seemed to be swimming straight.."

"But Soap , He could have a concussion or maybe a facture-"

Soap sighed as he glanced back to the water before back at Kyle.

"Look..You can try convincing em'"

Soap frowned as Simon finally surfaced propping himself up onto the dock as well the wood creaking slightly under the weight of just Simons upper half.

"Ghost"

"Kyle."

Kyle huffed as he didnt even need to say anything as he went up to him giving him a look before he huffed grumbling quietly adjusting himself better so that Kyle could assess him.

Taking his time looking over the newer injuries they had healed well enough fishing out his little hand held flash light from his keychain in his pocket he checked Ghost's eyes.

After a bit of checking Kyle felt satisfied ignoring Ghost annoyed clicks.

"Mm..Now Soap you said it was another Orca right..? Did it come back?"

"Nah..Fucker swam off after bashing Ghost head..Pretty sure I could smell em' bleeding though for a bit till they got too far."

Right this was looking to be way too convenient and fitting to not match up with good ol' Scarface's condition.

"Mm..Alright..Anyway I brought some-"

"Treats?!" Before Kyle could even move his lunchbox away Soap had snatched it and Kyle let out a exasperated sigh not even fighting for it risk of being pulled into the water.

"Jesus Soap my lunch is still in there be careful- And dont eat the plastic!"

[ratterwolf]

Anyway trigger warning for the entire of episode 33 of DnDads s2 -> Family Guy

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[runningatypufullspeed]

WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE MY FUGLY UGLY ASS ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE X FAHRENHEIT 451 CROSSOVER DRAWING THAT I WAS FORCED TO DO FOR SCHOOL….. ITS SO UGLY AND MONTAG IS

WHITE.

AND THE HOUNDS ARE DISGUSTING THE COLORING IS SO SHITTY AND MILDRED …. Well ok she looks alright kindof but the COLORING ….. SKETCH WAS BETTER but do you guys. Do you still want to see it…….,,,,,,

ALSO NO OFFENSE TO WHITE PEOPLE PLEASE I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶😁👍 within reason

[seventh-district]

.

[curiouschaosstarlight]

Bounced back and forth, think I'll just make this post-

(Warning: Under the read more, if tumblr keeps the read more intact, is me, an aromantic/aegofictosexual person ramble-ranting about aroaceness in fandom. You're free to scroll past if you wish, or to disagree with me on whatever takes for whatever reason, this is just my one opinion on something I consider to be a big pet peeve of mine.)

(If you read this and go "but I don't do that!", then I trust you, and you're not the kind of person I'm talking about. I'm moreso referring to some things I've personally either witnessed or experienced in previous fandoms, and nobody this applies to will actually see this post unless it, like, gets a bajillion notes...um, hopefully.)

It is so. fricking. frustrating. having my only possible representation in media be like...[that one character] from DR. You know. the otaku or "geek" that's portrayed to be unattractive, "gross", and "weird", and will eventually express sexual attraction to "3D" people, because their attraction to and obsession with 2D was never a sexuality, but intended to be some creepy, incomprehensible thing, and a way to demonstrate their shortcomings and inability to actually court someone.

Characters who actually match my sexuality and experience will never exist unless I make them with my own hands, because both allos and other aces consider me "not ace enough".

This honestly plays a big part in why I'm really touchy about aroace headcanons; because often times they're blatantly used to say people aren't allowed to ship [character a] with [character b] -- and the person making the headcanon is usually 100000% fine with [character a] being put in a gay ship, but will loudly complain if they see them featured in the (usually het, usually canonically teased) first ship. Because it was never about actually writing an aroace character, it was about reframing "ewwww you like THAT ship?? gross uxu what's wrong with you??" into "uhhhmmmm but that character's aroace-coded" "sorry, I can't see them as anything other than aroace" (yeah, I didn't ask? Everyone else gets to talk about THEIR ships with that character and you enthusiastically support them...) And it's like... I feel like these types of headcanons specifically are always presented like, inherently, I'm totally, obviously going to agree with them, and if I don't, then clearly I'm just not aroace. (I wish that was more of a dramatization, but I had someone who I previously told my seuxality to go "oh. well. I'm asexual, so I see this character as aroace-coded, (and I'm right)" <- not outright said but very, very heavily implied, especially because they continuously insisted the character was "canonically aroace-coded", and I just had to sit there like... "...okay, but I'm aroace. (and I think saying that about a clearly het-intended character that's constantly being flirted and canonically shipped in extra side materials with is kinda hurtful)" <- I didn't say that part)

And the fact that no one respects if a character is canonically het or bi kind of plays into why I don't care when a character is canonically gay or ace. If everyone's sexuality is just "gay (MAYBE ace!!!)" or "okay but have you CONSIDERED they might be bi??? (stop putting them in het ships >:((( )" only when it's convenient, then why should I care for my downtime? It doesn't change canon. And I don't feel represented by people's on-the-whim, flimsy-as-fuck headcanons.

But it does still piss me off when people take a reboot or remake or continuation and flagrantly disregard a character's canon sexuality.

And it's upsetting that aroace characters 1. aren't really a thing for the most part, and 2. get written over when they are a thing.

I imagine that when I finally manage to finish one of my stories or games and, y'know, all of my characters are bi/pan/demi because that's what I tend to write...that's probably just gonna get changed to be "whoops everyone's gay lol" by the fandom, and I've already come to terms with that. (Well, by the part of the fandom that isn't populated by "ugh, everything is so WOKE now!" assholes, I'm just gonna pretend they won't even show up because they aren't worth it.) But then, it's also like...if someone officially continued or adapted my properties, and they changed my characters to be all straight or maybe one character gets to be kinda-sorta gay or something, I. I would definitely lose my shit.

-vague gestures-

I don't really know where I'm going with this, I just wanted to say my whole piece without having to worry about being accused of derailing/not listening to a post-

But basically if you're outraged whenever a gay character's sexuality is changed for any reason in any context, I better hear you be that upset about the rest of the possible orientations, and not pulling that shit yourself. I swear to god.

[sodalite-lite]

[salsflore]

ummmm

[dovedrangeas]

i dont care if either of my parents have adhd too because it doesnt matter.

however. if i had to pick which one of them i got it from it would undeniably be my dad because that man has something divergent in his neuros for sure

[bunnyb34r]

Whyyyy do I watch horror game let's plays when I KNOW it's gonna spike my paranoia something BAD