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lovelake · 2 months ago

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His accessories are always calling your attention, practically begging for some TLC (request is from this lovely nonnie <3)

solivan brugmansia x fem!reader | 800+ wc, fluff, suggestive towards the end but nothing explicit, kissing

note: possible mistake on the piercing count for him? some pictures of him have different amounts of piercings so feel free to correct me, i can always change the numbers !! title is from ‘ever (foreign flag)’ by team sleep

masterlist read on ao3

“One, two, three, four…”

The numbers faded into a murmur as you continued counting the amount of piercings he had. Your thumb brushed against his ear, coming across different shapes and sizes of jewelry. To say you were fascinated was an understatement, his fashion was part of the reason you were so attracted to him.

You were sitting criss cross applesauce across from him on your bed, having put his hair into a low ponytail just a few minutes ago. Lot of strands from the upper layer still managed to fall out, but they didn’t really get in your way, they simply framed the new light of your life.

“Eight on your ears.” You eventually concluded proudly, missing the lovesick look Sol was giving you.

Your gaze was now drawn to his pretty lips. They used to be chapped before you became his girlfriend. Now, they were soft. Kissable. Plush. Enticing, like a pillow inviting yours against them.

He used to get so flustered when he caught you staring at his lips that he would bring a hand up to cover his face, giving you a couple of shy peeks before he calmed down. Seems he was getting more and more used to your affection now.

You gently tapped each steel ring. “Nine, ten.”

Maybe you were a little too excited, you were practically gushing. “They’re so cool! Do you sleep with them all on?”

“I–“

“Where’d you get them done?”

“Well–“

“Which one hurt the most?”

Your stream of questions came out all in one go, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. The rare sound and the feeling of his body shaking under yours snapped you out of it.

“Sorry, too much?” You didn’t mean your apology, obviously.

“No, it’s fine,” he said between quiet laughter, giving your cheek a pinch. “You’re so cute…”

He called you that a lot. And beautiful. And gorgeous. And pretty. And lovely. And stunning. But the term he always came back to at the end of the day was ‘cute.’ You’d have to watch out for that cuteness aggression of his, it could strike at any time.

“Sooo?” With raised brows, you prompted him to answer.

He wasn’t much of a talker, but it came easily when he was with you. With everyone else, he usually only gave a five word response maximum. You’re special.

“I take them off before sleeping unless I forget, one time I woke up without a couple of them and I…learned my lesson. I did two of the ear ones myself, and got everything else at a piercer in the mall. My second lip piercing hurt the most ‘cause I got it right after the first.”

One of these days, you’d suggest getting matching jewelry. It could be anything. A necklace, earrings…knowing him, he’d like it.

“They look good on you.” You tell him. So good that sometimes you stayed up late at night wondering how his lip piercings would feel traveling all over your skin.

“In that case, maybe I should get more. Any suggestions?”

“I think an eyebrow piercing would really suit you. But I dunno, it might get caught in your hair since you usually have it down.”

“I can clip it back while it heals.”

Smiling, you place a hand on his shoulder so you could lean in real close. You started with his ears, placing a kiss over every single one of his piercings. You swore you felt him shiver, his hand reached for the back of your head. So his ears were sensitive, noted.

Then, his lips. Yours met his twice, just something sweet. You whispered your explanation against them. “Ten kisses for ten piercings. Fitting, right?”

“Yeah…” He sounded dazed. Now who was the cute one?

You couldn’t just stop there. You coyly reached for his choker. “I also like this.”

His cheeks were already red, but this time, he seemed more vulnerable than usual. He wasn’t going to be ready to take it off in front of you anytime soon, if ever, so he was glad you didn’t find it weird. “You do?”

“Mhm, it brings a lot of attention to your neck.”

Goosebumps found a home on his skin, his breathing grew heavier as you continued toying with it.

You had way too much power over him, he had to find a way to balance the scales. “You…You didn’t finish counting my piercings.”

Now that piqued your curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He took both your hands and placed them atop his chest. One palm felt his heartbeat, the other didn’t. You simply blinked until you explored a little and registered the hardness you felt.

“Oh…” Your stomach did a flip. And suddenly, the temperature in your room matched that of a sauna.

“Yup.” He was full on grinning now, glad he got you speechless for once, though his blush hadn’t died down one bit. “Wanna see them, pumpkin?”

#solivan brugmansia x reader #solivan brugmansia x you #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb #tkatb x reader

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casssmalefantasy · 17 days ago

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still the girl i think about at night - paige bueckers x reader!

s: you and paige have been best friends since middle school. it was always harmless—until you’re home for the summer, wrapped in an old sleepover routine and everything starts to feel different. maybe it always has.

w: smut, fingering, light teasing, dirty talk, friends to lovers, long-repressed feelings, confidence kink, lowkey jealousy, paige being cocky, reader being down bad

word count: 3.8K

author’s note: wrote this like a month ago, but here’s an x reader fic since people claim i don’t write any 😀

you don't mean to stare.

it’s just—her mouth. the way she’s chewing her chocolate chip cookies, leaning back against your headboard like this is still sophomore year and you didn’t just spend three hours silently dying on the couch next to her while watching a movie.

she’s in sweats and your hoodie, long legs stretched across your childhood bed, and there’s something about the way her hair’s all messy and she smells like your laundry detergent that makes your chest feel tight.

“you’re staring,” paige says without looking at you.

you blink. “i am not.”

she glances over with that lazy, knowing smile. “you are. you always do when you think i’m not paying attention.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing a pillow and swatting her with it. “shut up.”

“see?” she grins, catching it. “you only get violent when i’m right.”

you groan and flop backward, staring at the ceiling like it’ll give you strength. you two haven’t done this in so long. the whole just us, back in minnesota, in one of our bedrooms with no responsibilities and hours to kill thing. it used to be routine. sleepovers in hotel rooms after aau tournaments. long drives to and from practice, a million shared secrets over snacks, and headphones and playlists that changed every year.

but now she’s paige bueckers. uconn star.

and you’re just…you.

still best friends. still ride-or-die, but you stopped letting yourself imagine anything more, years ago.

“you ever think about how weird it is that we’ve never hooked up?” paige says suddenly.

you almost choke on your own breath. “what?”

she’s smirking, sitting up now. “i’m just saying. we’ve been best friends for, like, nine years. most people would’ve kissed at least once by now.”

your mouth opens. closes. opens again. “yeah, well, we’re not most people.”

“you ever wanted to?” she asks, tilting her head like she doesn’t already know the answer.

you try not to panic. “wanted to what?”

“kiss me.”

you scoff. “i think you’ve had too much sugar.”

she laughs, soft and low, and it makes your stomach twist. “so that’s a no?”

you pause. she watches.

you look away first. “truth or dare,” you say, just to change the subject.

“truth,” she says easily.

you hesitate. “how many people have you hooked up with?”

she arches a brow. “define hooked up.“

“you know what i mean.”

she hums, pretending to count. “including one-night stands?”

you try not to react. “sure.”

“mm… five?”

you shift, crossing your legs tighter beneath you, like that’ll protect you from the answer.

“five??”

she shrugs, grinning. “what? come on. five is not that bad.”

you laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. she notices.

“why do you care?” she asks, tone teasing but curious.

you look down at your hands. “i don’t.”

“you do,” she says. then, quieter, “why?”

your throat goes dry.

she shifts closer. you can feel the heat of her body now, the casual way her thigh presses against yours. your heart is absolutely betraying you in your chest.

“you jealous?” she murmurs.

you don’t answer.

she leans in, voice brushing against your ear. “you want me to say you’re the one i think about?”

you swallow hard. “paige…”

“because you are,” she whispers, breath warm on your skin. “every time. no matter who it is. it’s your face i see. your voice. your hands.”

you’re shaking now, not sure if it’s nerves or the way she’s looking at you.

“say something,” she says, almost shy now, like she’s laid it all out and suddenly isn’t so sure.

so you do.

you kiss her.

it’s messy at first. hungry. years of tension spilling out all at once. her hands slide into your hair, tugging just a little, and you groan into her mouth.

she pulls back just enough to breathe, lips already swollen. “fuck.”

“isn’t it my turn?” she says with a grin, a little out of breath

“true, but my rules. truth or dare?” you whisper.

she smirks. “dare.”

“i dare you to take off your hoodie.”

she obliges without hesitation, tossing it somewhere across the room. she’s only in a tank top now, no bra, and you stare, openly this time.

“like what you see?” she teases.

you climb into her lap, straddling her thighs. “you have no idea.”

her hands settle on your hips. “show me.”

you kiss her again, slower this time. deliberate. you trail your lips down her neck, biting just enough to make her gasp. her fingers twitch against your waist.

“you’re always so full of yourself,” you murmur.

“you love it.”

you do.

you tug her tank top off, baring her completely. she shivers under your touch, and for the first time tonight, she looks a little flustered.

“you good?” you ask, brushing her hair back.

she nods, cheeks flushed. “just… haven’t wanted someone like this in a long time.”

you press a kiss to her collarbone. “i’ve wanted you since we were seventeen.”

that does it.

she kisses you like she’s starving, pulling you close until your chest is flush with hers. you grind down on her thigh, and she moans into your mouth.

“take this off,” she mutters, tugging at your shirt.

you do, then your bra, and her hands are everywhere—palming your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you’re arching into her.

“fuck, you’re so perfect,” she whispers, kissing down your chest.

you tug her back up by the chin, locking eyes. “lay back.”

her eyes widen slightly, but she listens. you straddle her again, kissing a trail down her stomach until you’re hooking your fingers in her sweats and sliding them down.

no underwear.

of course.

“jesus,” you whisper, staring at the slick already coating her thighs.

she smirks, breath shaky. “told you. i think about you.”

you press a kiss to the inside of her knee, then higher, and higher, until she’s squirming.

“please,” she whispers.

you finally lick a slow stripe up her pussy, and she gasps, head falling back against the pillows.

you take your time—teasing, flicking, circling with your tongue until her hips are lifting off the bed and she’s moaning your name like a prayer.

you slide two fingers in, curling them just right, and her hand flies to your hair, clutching tight.

“you’re so fucking good,” she cries. “don’t stop, baby. don’t stop.”

and of course you don’t. especially when she’s begging for you like this.

you fuck her through it—tongue and fingers and all the years you’ve wanted this crashing down between you.

when she cums, it’s with a broken sob, thighs clenching around your head, her whole body trembling.

you kiss your way back up to her mouth, and she pulls you in, kissing you deep and slow and grateful.

but not for long.

because the second she catches her breath, she flips you onto your back—quick and smooth, like she’s been thinking about this moment for years.

“you really just did that?” she murmurs, voice low, rough with disbelief and something darker. “that mouth of yours…”

her fingers trace your cheek, then your collarbone, then lower and lower, until she’s cupping you through your soaked underwear.

“so wet for me already,” she says, smirking like she knew you would be. “you been like this the whole time?”

you nod, dazed. “yeah.”

“yeah?” she echoes, teasing. “that turned you on? making me cum like that?”

you can’t answer. not properly. all you manage is a whimper when she slides your panties to the side and runs two fingers through your folds, slow and easy.

“fuck,” she mutters. “you’re dripping.”

you’re burning—cheeks, chest, everywhere. and it’s not just the summer heat. it’s her. her eyes locked on you. the weight of her body between your thighs. the way her fingers tease your entrance but don’t push in.

not yet.

“you want my fingers?” she asks, like she doesn’t already know.

you nod your head.

“say it.”

“i want your fingers,” you breathe, barely able to get the words out.

“good girl.”

you swear you could cum just from that. her praise, her voice, the way she looks at you like you’re hers now. like maybe you always were.

she finally gives you what you need—one finger, then two, slow and steady. she’s patient at first, letting you feel the stretch, letting you adjust. but when your hips start to rock up to meet her, needy, desperate—she gives you more. faster. deeper. curling her fingers just right.

“that’s it,” she whispers, watching every twitch, every moan. “feel me. take it.”

your hands fist the sheets. your thighs are already shaking. and then her mouth is on you. tongue hot and relentless, licking around her fingers, then up to your clit in steady, devastating circles.

you cry out, hand flying to her hair, holding on like you’ll fall apart if you don’t.

she doesn’t stop. doesn’t let up. just keeps working you open with her fingers and fucking you with her mouth like she’s starving for it, like this is all she’s ever wanted.

“taste so fucking good,” she groans against you. “knew you would. knew it.”

you’re gone. completely undone. all the teasing glances over the years, the touches that lingered too long, the nights you thought about her, it all crashes down at once.

you cum hard, with her name in your mouth and her fingers still inside you, fucking you through it. she doesn’t pull away. not until you’re trembling and breathless and ruined beneath her.

when she finally climbs back up your body, she kisses you—messy and open-mouthed, letting you taste yourself on her lips.

“told you,” she says, cocky and beautiful and wrecked in her own way. “i’ve got you.”

and you believe her.

god, you do.

“this changes everything, doesn’t it?” she whispers.

you look at her. really look. flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair a mess. and she’s still paige— still your best friend, but also something more now. something terrifying. something real.

you nod. “yeah. but in the best way.”

she smiles, pulling you close again. “good. because i’m not going back to pretending i don’t want you.”

and you’re not either.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #ncaa women’s basketball #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x black!reader

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powderpuff-divines · 10 days ago

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pick a pile: when love finds you again, how do you wish to be held by it?

what kind of love does your heart yearn for? pick a pile to find out! this is a general reading so not everything may apply to you. only take what resonates and leave the rest. please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. happy reading!!

pile 1 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

(TW: mentions of bullying, please exercise your own discretion.) seven of wands, queen of swords rev, nine of swords

oh pile one, when love finds you, you'll hiss at its hand the way a stray cat does when someone finally shows it some kindness after experiencing years of living alone on the streets.

people have been cruel to you by way of words and there are still cuts on your soul from that. i'm hearing death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift in my head, more specifically the line 'papercut stings from my paper thin plans.' maybe you made plans with loved ones (friends, family, lovers), went out of your way to do nice things for them and truly treasured them, but then had the gut-wrenching realization that it was not mutual. they could have mocked you for being so sensitive and taking things too seriously. ("oh that? don't tell me you actually thought i was being serious?"). some of you may have been victims of bullying in the past.

so when true, unconditional and kind love finds you, you will not be able to stomach it.

there's a deep level of mistrust and anxiety towards words of sweetness coming from anyone. but when love finds you again, you want do still want its words to be honeyed but true; not a coating of sugar covering rancid intentions.

you could still be beating yourself up for being swayed by other people's words and charms very easily in the past. please stop that. you cannot bully yourself into being better and being stronger. you live and you learn. you cannot be cruel to yourself for falling prey people who were actively trying to mislead you/ cause harm.

when love finds you again, you want its words, true and honest, to wrap you up and hold you in its warmth. to not need to worry about whether it's a ploy to get your trust only to break it again. you want a love so kind that it erases the pain from your past.

pile 2 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

five of pentacles, seven of wands, knight of pentacles

someone dear to you could have betrayed your trust when it comes to money/finances/assets. for some of you, you do not even wish to acknowledge it or talk about it. 'it happened, i lived. it was miserable but i lived, and i'll never let that happen to me again.' is the type of energy i get from this pile. you could think that there's no point crying over spilled milk.

but that betrayal cut deep. so when love finds you again, you want someone who'll stand right by your side, especially if you go through a tough period like that again (some of you could have even been homeless for a while.)

the people who chose this pile do not necessarily want a flashy kind of love, with dates at the trendiest of places or elaborate gifts/ trips every month. you really want is someone to rely on, a shoulder to lean and cry on and someone who doesn't stab you in the back.

the type of scenario i'm seeing is someone having a breakdown in their dining room trying to balance their checkbook, but your person comes without you even calling for them, squeezes your shoulder, sits down next to you and starts helping you with it.

i feel like there's an emphasis on helping you with it rather than just doing it for you. you could be a very independent person, or maybe you just don't trust someone else to handle things for you again. you want a partner in the literal sense of the word.

(some of you could be thinking 'even if it's someone who doesn't contribute to helping me get back to a good place, i just want someone who won't make it worse. otherwise, i might as well just be alone, right?' and i just want to tell you that please hope for more. you deserve to be loved and taken care of. someone not harming you is just the barest of bare minimum. expect more from your loved ones)

what you really what is someone who'll tell you to hold your head high, put their reassuring hand to your back and guide you. they'll do the scut work with you, they'll make it easier for you to go through the murky waters and not complain about it.

i have a feeling that if someone like that were to actually appear, you would just stare at them for a few moments-- shocked and emotional, but grateful that you get to experience a love like this.

when love finds you again, you wish for it to be steady and unwavering, to hold your hand tight and not let go even once even as it knows that difficult times are ahead. to silently hold an umbrella over your head as it begins raining. to be as comforting as hot cocoa on a cold day. to stay. you want love to be loyal, kind and to stay.

pile 3 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

(TW: mentions of sexual content. please exercise your own discretion.) ten of cups, page of swords, ten of swords

you want to find the love you've been dreaming of, to get your happy ending, to find the one. you're sick of meeting people who aren't your forever person.

you, out of all three piles, dream of domestic bliss the most. a happy home, a happy family with pets and/or kids. but with the way things have been going, you've become mentally resistant to this dream after so many failed tries and ,if you're aware of it, you hate that. because you never wants to be the type of person who doesn't like love or runs away from love, not after you've spent so long yearning for it.

this could be the pile that daydreams about a soft and romantic love.

the type of love where you're in the kitchen, baking something, and your partner comes behind you, wraps their arms around your waist and kisses your neck as they mutter something that makes your heart skip a beat.

you want someone who won't shut down your ideas, and wants to do fun (and tbh chaotic) stuff with you. you want to go on adventures with this person. (like the way the old couple from Up did when they were young.)

and also really good sex where by the end of it, you're exhausted and completely sated; after which, you lie in your lover's embrace, mindlessly drawing patterns on their skin (they could also do the same for you) with some pillowtalk.

you could also really want to travel to other places with this person and make a lot of memories.

when love finds you again, you wish for it to be in the form of a person in whom you see home. a home for your love, for your joy and smiles. a home that will accept all of it, nurture it and multiply it tenfold. whether it be now, a year later or even decades down the line, you wish to be held in its loving embrace. one could even say you wish to be held by it throughout the ages. you want a love that will transmute the bad days into something easier; a love that will stay forever soft and young as you and your lover grow old and develop wrinkles on your faces (from laughing and having so much joy in your lives.)

i recently decided to join tumblr and was surprised when i discovered that there was a pac community here. it's been super fun going through all the readings here so i thought maybe it would be fun to dip my own toe into it. i had a ton of fun editing the images and this post!! tumblr's so cool. i hope the reading resonated at least a little bit and it was fun to read!

#pac tarot #pac reading #pac #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #divination #tarotblr #how many tags are too many #powdertarot #love reading #free tarot readings #free tarot #pick a photo #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading

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asteroshearts · 2 months ago

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Postpartum Confinement

[Xavier (Shen Xinghui 沈星回 ) + Caleb (Xia Yizhou 夏以晝)]

In Chinese culture, mothers stay and rest for a month or more after giving birth to properly recover (zuo yue zi).

Warnings: Yandere themes for Caleb's

Zayne and Sylus

Xavier (Shen Xinghui 沈星回 )

The Yue Sao (postpartum care nanny) and her little assistant, Xavier.

You and Xavier decided to hire a Yue Sao recommended by one of your older coworkers at the Hunters Association, and now Xavier could always be seen shyly shuffling behind her around the house, ready to get you anything and everything you needed at a moment's notice.

Your coworker told you that she heard many horror stories about Yue Sao or in-laws being opinionated or strict, but she told you that this woman always asked her what she wanted first.

It was true, this woman was an angel to you, so patient, asking for your opinions, making jokes with you, saying things like, "Oh, you don't want to? That's fine!"

But with Xavier...she was Gordon Ramsay, and he was her sous chef.

No more midday napping for him.

While you rested or nursed the baby, you could always see him in the background mopping, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen, the bathroom, up and down the entire home.

Whenever his path would cross yours on his crusade, he'd always shoot such sad bunny eyes at you two... he wanted to nap with his baby too....

But the Yue Sao said you already did the brunt of the work, creating the baby for nine months, pushing them out, and experiencing the most pain you had ever felt in your life, what Xavier had to deal with was a molehill compared to your mountain.

But when she tried to teach him how to make you a postpartum soup...

["Um..." he answered awkwardly, "I don't think I should."

"Xinghui!" she scolded, and if he had bunny ears, you could imagine them drooping by now. He had normally been so above and beyond for you, so what changed? "What will happen when I'm no longer around? Who will make your wife soup?"

Those bunny ears seemed to sag even more.

"Are you going to make the mother of your child get up and make her own soup?"]

One hour later, you and your baby woke up with a jump when a loud BOOM came from your kitchen.

Your Yue Sao later apologized and swore to never let him cook again.

She later recommended some places you could order delivery from for meals specifically for postpartum women.

For some reason...why do I feel like he'd be really good at the massages meant to help you with lactation?

When the nanny tried to teach you the massage, you easily called Xavier over to learn too, as you trusted him.

He wouldn't find it awkward or weird, and would take up her lessons with seriousness.

He'd be the perfect mix of gentle and nimble, but he'd stare at your face as he'd do it, catching any microexpressions for any ounce of discomfort or pain. If the pressure was too much, he'd slow down or switch techniques immediately.

Being a nanny, your Yue Sao had seen far too many lazy, distant, or ungrateful fathers, so she was so glad to meet Xavier, who waited on you hand and foot.

As she mentioned that to him, a small smile appeared on his lips.

He didn't mind. As a knight, he lived devoted.

Caleb (Xia Yizhou 夏以晝)

A tradition where you aren't supposed to go outside, not meet with anyone else, and where all attention was on you and the ultimate proof of your love, and that you would never leave him, your child? Oh, he's over the moon.

Why should the zuo yue zi only be a month? He's telling you to make it three—five, in fact, you could stay like this forever.

Despite this, however, he doesn't trust anyone to properly take care of you and your baby. Not a random postpartum nanny, not any of the care centers, and you two had no in-laws.

He might not trust anyone, but that doesn't mean he would dare deprive you of any resource or help.

He puts it on himself to fill in the empty spaces and throws himself into learning about postpartum care, taking classes while you were still pregnant and constantly researching.

Some may say it takes a village to raise a child, but Caleb is all you need, hm?

Since it's just him doing all of the work, he wants to make sure that no stone is unturned, and falls deeply into believing postpartum superstitions and traditional medicine.

Feeds you bitter herbal stews and constantly talks about keeping the "heat" in your body.

You have to debate and argue with him that nothing will happen if you turn on the AC for just a bit in the summer, and can he please stop feeding you pork trotters!?

He's a bit sad too, though. It's just as hard for you as it is for him. Postpartum women aren't supposed to eat overly salty, oily foods, and he loves making you his famous braised chicken.

Washes your hair for you, cooks you every meal, and we all know that he's a pro at doing your laundry 😏, so the second the baby throws/spits up on you, he's there in a second with a fresh shirt and wiping you down.

It may seem excessive, but he'll say in his sweet voice that keeping clean is good for your mental health and how you view yourself.

But he'll love you no matter what. Even if you smell like baby vomit.

He takes over the night shift completely with your baby without you knowing, so much so that, for a while, you believed that your baby just didn't wake up in the middle of the night like other kids.

You had full eight-plus hours of sleep for months, and you were none the wiser that Caleb would wake up at the slightest hint of a whimper or cry from the crib beside your bed, feed the baby, rock them, and change diapers, all while you slept peacefully.

You didn't catch on until one of your calls with Jenna, she told you that it was improbable that your baby didn't wake up at all during the night, and perhaps one day, you should pretend to sleep to catch the act.

So that's why he asked you to pump so much.

Some women may beg for at least a 50/50 relationship with the father of their children, but for Caleb, 50/50 isn't enough. If he weren't human, and if he were made of machine and metal, he'd want to be built just for this. He'd make it so that you wouldn't have to lift a single finger, and he'd take care of everything.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds #lnds #lads caleb #lads xavier #lads x reader #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace xavier #xia yizhou #shen xinghui

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no-144444 · 6 months ago

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whiplash- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

(HOLY SHIT THEY WON THE CONSTRUCTORS!!!!!!!)

(dw i have many fics planned for the end of season stuff, so be prepared for them to come out in the next week or so!)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Recovery after the crash was pretty straight forward, no bright lights, too much screen time, or loud noise for 2 weeks, and thankfully, you had a month off.

Only problem? Someone had to take care of you for those two weeks, and that someone was Oscar Piastri.

And what a roommate he was. He unloaded your things from the car as you unlocked the door to your house, letting him in, and he didn’t let you carry a thing. He sent you straight to bed while he made some sort of bland, diet-approved dinner for the two of you and brought it up to you with very little speaking. You enjoyed it though, listening to some random youtube video at a very low volume, and then you just slept, despite the pounding headache you had.

Oscar stayed downstairs, looking around the place. You had a lot of books, which he realised made a lot of sense. You were often reading on race weekends. You had a lot of artwork as well, mostly from what he assumed to be local artists in Monaco, and some from your home country. He walked through room after room, finding more about you as he went on. You liked a specific band, you collected records, you liked stationary (you had a lot of extras in your office), you had two of the same pairs of sunglasses (he assumed it was because you often lost them), you had very few pictures of yourself with friends, but many of just your friends, you had nothing to do with racing anywhere in your home. The only room that had anything remotely racing related was your simulator room, which just had your sim and some team merch you’d been given. He wondered where you kept all of your suits and helmets from other years, where you kept the trophies.

“You’re snooping,” you said from behind him. He jumped, turning to you. The whole house felt so suffocatingly you. You were around each corner, things that reminded him of you were everywhere. It wasn’t easy, like in the garage. He was out of his comfort zone , out of his routine. His plan had been to go home for the break, but now he was taking care of the pretty girl he spoke to over the radio. The bottom line was that he was scared. He was scared he wouldn’t get over the crush, he was scared you’d reject him, and he was scared of his feelings being too obvious and scaring you away. He couldn’t let his months of hard work go to waste over something as silly as his feelings, and he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry without support, half way through the season with a team who didn’t like you. You did look quite cute though, even in the dim light (he’d gone around and closed all of the curtains in the house, only allowing a small amount of light in), tired and groggy, but pretty all the same.

“Just trying to find my bearings,” he smiled. “Did you sleep?”

You nodded. “I’ll show you the guest room,” you said, leaving the doorway and walking away. He followed behind. The conversation didn’t flow as easily as it had before. Oscar felt… surrounded. By you. And he wasn’t sure he was totally upset by it. Everything in this house was you. It made sense, it was your house. He just wasn't… used to it. He followed behind you, staring at the ground as you both walked up the stairs.

“You don’t keep any racing stuff in the house,” he stated.

You shrugged. “Why should I?”

“It’s your passion?” he suggested.

You just stayed silent. “This is your room. There’s a bathroom connected, so if you need anything, just tell me. You have free reign of the house, just obviously not my bedroom… so yeah.”

He nodded. “Thank you, do you need anything for your head?”

You shook your head. “Sleep.”

He nodded. “Text me if you need anything-”

“No screens,” you reminded him. He frowned.

You couldn’t shout, and neither could he, neither of you could text, but you had to communicate somehow. He had an idea. “I have an idea,” he said.

You stared at him expectantly.

“Walkie talkies.”

And you laughed. You genuinely, unashamedly, fully, laughed. And it was a sound he would do anything to hear again. The tension broke. The house didn’t feel as suffocating as it once had, and it felt as easy as being in the garage. He felt himself smile, smiling at you. He liked seeing you smile, the kind of smile that showed your teeth, that made your nose scrunch, that made him see the small glimpse of you.

Not the racer, not the fighter, not the victor. You.

“That works,” you nodded, the smile still on your lips. You looked down for a moment. “Thank you for taking care of me, Oscar. It means a lot. No one’s ever… done this for me.”

He frowned despite himself and cursed himself when he saw that you noticed. “I’m happy to be here. I’m happy that I get to make sure you’re ok.”

You offered him a sad smile, and left him to ‘find his bearings’ in his room. He huffed as he sat on the bed, looking around the room. There was a vanity with a mirror (we wouldn’t use it, but maybe he'd put the sunscreen his sister had been bugging him to use there, just to see if he’d remember to use it in the mornings), aa bed (a king bed, which he was very happy with), bedside tables with some random lights, a wardrobe, a mirror, white walls, hardwood floors, and a big window seat. He looked out into the garden, and it was green. Plants, fruits, vegetables, everything. So that was your hobby. Gardening.

He chuckled. You were full of surprises. He wanted to figure every last one of them out.

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The next few days went quickly, mostly you two were on different schedules. Oscar was working during the way (no rest for any McLaren employee, especially not when you were P2 in the standings), while you slept and stayed up during the night. You went into the garden, caring for your plants all night long, reheated leftovers from Oscar (he was a surprisingly good cook), and listened to podcasts and music (at a low volume).

That all changed when he found you in the garden at 2am, soft music playing as you collected plums from your trees, he smiled.

“Busy?” he called out. You shook your head, placing them in the basket. “I didn’t realise you were such a gardener.”

“It’s peaceful,” you admitted. “Slow.”

“A racecar driver likes going slowly?” he questioned. You rolled your eyes, sitting beside him on the bench.

“Not all of us are the same on and off track, alright?”

He chuckled. “Fine, you got me there,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What else does F1 driver Y/n Y/l/n like to do?”

And the air shifted for some inexplicable reason. He was too close to you, too personal, too… something. You felt everything tenfold, every hair on the back of your neck standing to full attention. He didn’t mean to make it sound flirty, surely. You told yourself.

He wasn’t even sure of that himself.

“I like dancing,” you answered, your voice soft and small, softer than he’d ever heard you. “When I was a kid I was a dancer. I gave it up for racing, but I still enjoy it.”

He swore he was the one with whiplash. You were so hot and cold. One minute you were telling him about you childhood dreams, the next you were screaming at him over the radio to go fuck himself. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “What about you?”

“I like to spend time with my family,” he admitted. “But you know that.”

You smiled, a small, shy smile, but a smile all the same (aka, he counted it as a win). “They seem fun.”

“They are,” he nodded, smiling brightly. “They’re crazy but I love them.”

“When they come to a race, I’d like to meet them,” you expressed. He stared at you for a moment. He really took you in, sitting there with your legs up against your chest looking nothing like the strong racecar driver you’d made him think was your only personality. He thanked his lucky stars that he got to see you like this. Laid back, shy, reserved, perfect, you.

“I’d like that,” he smiled.

“Me too.”

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He woke up one night (after 4 whole days of radio silence from the last night you’d spoken) to music playing in the living room. He silently crept downstairs as the smooth voices of Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra filled his ears. There you stood, swaying in your living room in your pjs as you ate your food. Your hair was down, your eyes were closed, your body just swayed. You looked so… free. Sometimes, he forgot you were only 22 (only a year younger than him, but whatever). You didn’t have regular friends that you could just talk to, you had colleagues who worked for the same team as you. You had no family support, you were effectively alone.

But you had him, and he reminded himself of that as he sat on the last step, watching you truly let go.

“You should join me,” you said, eyes closed, but still noticing his presence. “Dancing is good for your health.”

“Is it now?” he smirked, getting up and joining you, despite the nerves in his stomach.

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his neck, your eyes still firmly closed. “It’s physical exercise.”

He nodded, placing his hands on your waist. He leaned as close as he could to your face, studying every detail he could. Every freckle, every crinkle of your eyes, every acne scar, all of it. And he thought you were perfect.

Your eyes opened, and you had a small smile on your lips, standing on his feet as he swayed you both. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re worth staring at,” he admitted.

“Smooth,” you chuckled. Again, whiplash.

You laid your head against his chest, letting him take the lead for a few moments. “Oscar?”

He hummed.

“Thank you for being my friend. I’ve never had one of those before. It’s really nice.”

As much as your confession broke his heart, he was glad he could be your friend, even if he hoped he could be something more.

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Zandvoort rolled around, and the garage was buzzing. You were catching Max, only 30 points between the two of you, as the title fight truly began. The RB20 was falling back, and you were only getting quicker. 5 wins under your belt. Monaco, Canada, Austria, UK, Hungary. You were a winner, and a podium anywhere else. Lando was only falling further behind, as the team shifted their focus to you. You got more attention, more praise, more weight on your shoulders. More people came to you, treated you with respect, acted differently.

It was a lot. You were overwhelmed.

But Oscar stayed the same. Always the voice of reason, the voice of calm in the storm that was F1. He was calm over the radio, celebrating with you when you crossed the line first.

You’d won on max’s home turf. That was truly something.

“You’ll go on the podium with me, right?”you asked as you crossed the line.

He smiled in the garage, blushing slightly. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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“Something worth celebrating!” Zak cheered as he entered the garage.

You were soaked in champagne, but happy all the same. It had been a hard season, but you were trudging on and continuing, looking forward to the things on the horizon. You were the woman with the highest points scored, ever. You had multiple wins in a row. You were in the title fight. You were a rookie.

“Something to be proud of,” Oscar nudged your arm, smiling as he sat beside you in the debriefing room. You offered him a soft smile.

“Thanks Osc,” you answered, unaware of the way you’d made his heart beat far too fast for something as simple as a nickname.

“Stop eye-fucking each other,” Lando scoffed.

“Stop trying to fuck her races up, then come back to me,” Oscar shot back. Lando did have some sort of love for fucking up your races (cough cough Belgium cough cough).

Lando shut up.

It was nice to have someone in your corner.

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mirathescientist · 1 year ago

Text

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

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kawoala · 7 months ago

Text

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? suna rintarou.

regular pinned

╰ ⨳ synopsis ; after surviving a year of less-than-ideal dorm life, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands. this year, you're determined to live off-campus— freedom, privacy, and no more mystery meat in the cafeteria. the only problem? rent is way more expensive than you imagined, especially when you’re only working a part-time job at a run-down antique store. but you're not one to give up easily. you ask your friends if they know anyone in need of a roommate and, lucky for you, runa knows just the person: a girl named rin, her cousin that she, supposedly, trusts with her life.

╰ ⨳ vague forewarning ; university au ( second years, making them 19/20 ) 、 underage alcohol ( and probably drug ) consumption 、 miscommunication 、 smau 、 profanity 、 violence 、 blackmail 、 toxic past relationships.

╰ ⨳ denotes written parts ; ★

╰ ⨳ taglist ; open !

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? masterlist.

⟶ chapter one ; spilled silverware ★ content warning ; miscommunication 、 smau 、 profanity 、 kind of short 、 just like an introduction type thing.

⟶ chapter two ; we live TOGETHER 💜 content warning ; smau 、 profanity 、 explanation of missed moments 、 introduction of ‘EJP playboys’ groupchat 、 awkwardness 、 anxiety 、 akaashi for some reason?

⟶ chapter three ; the party ; part one / part two ★ content warning ; party scene 、 drinking 、 anxious! reader 、 blacking out 、 mention of vomit 、 profanity 、 underage drinking 、 violence 、 writing in 3rd person ( kindof ) for the first time in forever 、 really rushed / bad writing 、 PUNCHING!! 、 assault 、 possibility of career going down the drain.

⟶ chapter four ; the morning after ★ content warning ; hungover 、 bruises 、 half-naked reader 、 accidental injuries 、 throwing up 、 lyyyinnngg.

⟶ chapter five ; y/n, mafia boss content warning ; smau 、 hungover 、 profanity 、 lies uncovered 、 blackmailing 、 mention of drugs and underage alcohol consumption.

⟶ chapter six ; holy shit content warning ; content warning ; smau 、 profanity 、 admission of feelings (but not to each other. SIGH) 、 komori x runa!! yayy 、 runa being suggestive LOL.

⟶ chapter seven ; ice skating! ★ content warning ; profanity 、 ice skating almost DATE!! 、 komori x runa!! yayy 、 rin helping you skate.

⟶ chapter eight ; jealousy, jealousy ★ content warning ; smau 、profanity 、jealousy 、not too many cw’s for this one 、mentions of ex girlfriends 、runa getting upset 、runa telling komori everything bc they’re actually like a thing now idk.

⟶ chapter nine ; insane maybe content warning ; smau 、profanity 、lowkey reader ghosting suna 、suna FINALLY realizes that he has feelings 、mentions of ex girlfriends 、runa being mean kindof.

⟶ chapter ten ; the end content warning ; THE END 、profanity 、admission of feelings FINALLY 、apologies.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? character intros.

⊂ ⊃ y/n l/n ; freshly-baked cinnamon rolls, fruit roll-ups, loud laughter, messy study notes, falling in love, writing in a diary, lip gloss collection.

⊂ ⊃ suna rintarou ; the smell of pine, messy hair, worn-out hoodies, tired eyes, vast music taste, dark bed sheets, tangled headset wire, bad horror movies.

#kawoala #and they were roommates…!?#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 5 months ago

Note

When you *do* decide to get a new smartphone, it may be worth considering a Teracube or a Fairphone: Both are designed to be repairable by anyone, and sell all the replacement parts (screen, battery, usb port, speaker, etc.) directly to consumer on their website.

Which y'know, greatly helps with the longevity of the phone.

(note: I am not paid by them, just happen to have a teracube, and feel like more people should use phones that they can easily repair themselves)

This is a worthy goal but the teracube handset costs over nine hundred dollars and the fairphone handset costs over five hundred dollars and I prefer my handsets to cost an absolute maximum of seventy dollars.

Also I'm very wary of buying an expensive piece of electronic equipment from a whole other hemisphere. Repair support gets tricky when it's happening on the other side of a vast ocean.

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holylulusworld · 2 months ago

Text

GRA (1) - Grumpy old man

Summary: You're roommates.

Pairing: TfatWs!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, banter, jealousy, vomiting, a hint of fluff

Grumpy Roommate Adventures

Square filled for buckybarnesbingo 2021 (expired): Square 20: AU: Roommates

He huffs while studying the newspaper. “Hmm…all those young people died this week,” Bucky grumbles as you sneak behind him to glance at whatever he’s reading.

You shake your head. Who reads the newspaper these days? We get news from apps or online newspapers.

“Stop being a grumpy old man, Barnes. Be happy you’re still young and full of energy…” You snicker because the people he called young are a ninety-five-year-old man and a ninety-nine-year-old lady.

Bucky makes a face, glaring in your direction as you are busy preparing a bowl of cereal.

You’re the cocky addition to the crazy bunch of people sharing a house. Sam and Bucky’s cat are the other two. And, of course, the biggest grump you ever met—James Buchanan Barnes.

The icy soldier, or whatever people called him in the past. You’re too tired of and disinterested in gossip to care about bad pet names.

“Who forgot to bring out the trash?” Sam calls from the living room. “It reeks, guys.”

“It was Bucky’s turn,” you lie and grin at Bucky, who narrows his eyes. “What?”

“I told you not to call me that!” He hisses in your direction. “And no. It wasn’t my turn to bring out the trash!”

“But you are the trashcan man!” You argue, pointing at his metal arm. “You’ve got the arm and all. I’m so weak and need help with carrying heavy stuff.”

He huffs, knowing you didn’t like he offered to carry your neighbor’s bags last week. Bucky is not interested in the quirky blonde but liked that you got angry and grabbed his hand.

“You can bring out the trash,” Bucky bites back. “I’m not going to do it again. You’ve got legs, so walk.”

“Big grump!” You grunt and slip off the chair to bring the trash out. It’s your turn, but you had hoped Bucky would lend you a hand too. “I guess you must be busty and brainless to get your help!” You snap at him before storming out of the kitchen.

“It helps not to be a grump!” He calls after you, laughing as you turn around and stick your tongue out.

“You’re an old, grumpy man, Barnes! Don’t you dare steal my cookies again! I won’t share!” You give him the stinky eye before turning to bring the trash out.

Sam watches you walk past him. You mutter under your breath when you get out of the house, only to face your neighbor. The busty blonde bitch tries to flirt with your roommate all the damn time.

“Y/N,” she coos and immediately walks toward you. “What a nice surprise to meet you here. How are you? Where’s James?”

“Uhm… I live here.” You roll your eyes. “Why would I not be around to bring the trash out? And I don’t know where the old man is hiding.”

“Oh! I thought your strong roommate would help you with that.” She cranes her neck to observe Bucky following you outside. Alpine tugged under his arm; he watches you fight with the trash can.

He smirks because you curse and mutter while stuffing the trash bag into the trash can. “Do you need help?” Bucky asks, earning a grunt from you. “I can lend you a hand, doll.”

“He’s so nice and dreamy,” your neighbor swoons, while you feel the bile rise in your throat. Urgh…the milk was not good. Clutching your stomach, you groan. “What’s wrong?” She screams when you spit your breakfast on her shirt.

“Fuck…the milk…urgh…” You groan and turn around to puke into the trash can, emptying your stomach.

“Shit, doll.” Bucky suddenly stands behind you to rub your back. “Did you not check on the milk? I think it was expired.”

He easily picks you up in bridal style, ignoring that your neighbor is whining about her shirt or that you puked on your shoes. “Let me down,” you weakly say. “I need to shower.”

“I’ll help you,” he shrugs when you glare at him. “What? I take any chance to get you naked…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Grumpy old man #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #x reader #tfatw fanfiction

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 4 days ago

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HIIII OMG I LOVE YOUR YAN BATFAM X BLACK READER STORYS SOOOO I HAVE A LIL REQUEST I WAS WONDERING IF YOU CAN DO A CELESTIA LUDENBERG ONE WITH THE YAN BATFAM PLEASE (make sure your taking good care of yourself😋)

THE ACE UP MY SELVES

Platonic yandere!batfam x Celestia Ludenberg!Reader

Bio: The gambling bat who spends her time in Gotham's underworld, even though she is the richest girl in the world.

You've always been a gambler. Ever since you were in kindergarten, you gambled kids out of their fruit snacks, Pokémon cards, and maybe little toys and trinkets. It was just a simple game of tic-tac-toe or rock-paper-scissors that you beat them at. You always managed to win and would tell them they could try again next time, make the bets higher, and make the beatings better, but they always managed to lose. You're not cheating, of course; just a better hand. But you're older now, playing for Gotham's underworld at the Iceberg Lounge, destroying mob bosses in games of poker, taking all the chips you can get. They would shoot you down—better not to hurt Gotham, sweetheart. The innocent and most delicate [Name] Wayne, they wouldn't dare pull the trigger because they've already wasted their life savings on this one bet, or they're going to waste their lives in prison. You think not to give a cute little smile as you take the wad of cash away, the money in your hands in your mind, a game won easily. The slot machines hate to see you coming because you manage to get a seven out of seven. It's a lucky number, right? Gotham's crooks and goons every Saturday night see if they can have a chance to beat you, but they never get the heads up because the higher the stakes, the more fun it is, and the more they lose, and the more money you win. I mean, why would a single father go gambling? You should get a nine-to-five. You gamble against a fifteen-year-old, always spoiling your friends with your betting wins, and you always have cash on you because gambling games are what everyone brings. One time, your five-dollar bill had some blood on it. The cashier, just a poor little idiot, believed you. The next game you were playing with Jack always made you giggle, having a royal flush without any trouble. You grabbed all the chips off the deck when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Oh no, you didn't know the bats were going to be patrolling today, and you didn't know your brothers were on shift at Gotham's loveliest casino. "So is this what girls' night out means?" Dick said. You could feel his face scrunch up under his domino mask. Jason had his pistols against the goon's forehead, cold and ready to burn, Tim is asking questions while Damian was trying to take the winnings out of your hands. "I just wanted to have some fun." You put on the biggest baby face, trying to act all innocent, when really you just stole somebody's inheritance. It was their fault for gambling in the first place. They dragged you out of the casino, and Bruce, while in his bat costume, had a stern talking to with you. Someone managed to take a video, and now it's on the news: "Gotham's greatest gambler [Name] Wayne was caught on another one of her escapades. She's now being apprehended by none other than Batman, who seems to have a fatherly affection for this young girl." How have they not figured out the truth yet? Forget it. You're no longer allowed to go anywhere at night—no more underground casinos or Iceberg Lounge. You have to play Saturday night games with your family. Monopoly isn't as fun when there isn't real money around, but you do have a time stealing your brother's railroads. "It's just a game, boys. You're lucky I didn't steal your inheritance." This was a real match for money, so here you are, flaunting the fake dollars you'll get back on your grind, though. The higher the stakes, the more fun.

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purpleturtletarot · 7 days ago

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Pick a Card Reading - What Type of Lover Are You?

This is my very FIRST written Tumblr Tarot Reading :) please let me know what you think. I have also posted some text tarot readings on my YouTube (purpleturtletarot) if you are interested in more. Feel free to DM me for suggested tarot reading topics. - I didn't do a lot of editing for this post, so each reading doesn't have much of a conclusion, but enjoy!

Deck Used: Heavenly Bloom by Noa Ikeda

Purple Hydrangea

Upright Nine of Swords, Upright Seven of Laurels, Upright Five of Laurels, Upright Knight of Cups

You are the type of lover that overthinks everything and may even have the capabilities to astral travel to connect with your love interests. You may have a lot of anxieties or fears of abandonment from past situations. Though, you continue to pour love, effort and investment into your partners, you sometimes feel they don't do the same in return or you're scared that they won't if it's a new love interest. You understand that healthy relationships give space for both parties to grow, and you are eager to water the seeds of a relationship and patiently watch them grow and evolve over time. Sometimes you feel your partners do not give you space to grow by being hypercritical of you not growing fast enough, or finding your evolution a threat in comparison to their own pace of growth. But you love with an open heart, you express your emotions very clearly and sometimes you are the one to admit your romantic feelings to a love interest before they do. Words of affirmation may be your strongest love language to give and receive. Service may be a significant love language for you, as well. You have a strong crown chakra, throat chakra, heart chakra, and solar plexus chakra. You take charge in expressing your heart fully in your relationships and I feel some of your peers are in awe of how you always pick yourself back up after strife in your love life. You really understand the saying that "it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." You may let yourself feel your emotions behind closed doors for a moment, understanding that it's more constructive to work through those feelings than bottle them up. If you're single, you easily open yourself up to new opportunities for love after the fact. If your in a relationship, you easily forgive because you know forgiving is not only for your partner, but also for you. Some view you as an oasis in a desert, and water is symbolic of emotions. Some people view you as a highly empathetic, compassionate person that is rare to find in a world where people perpetuate the stigma that being emotionally expressive is weak. You teach people that showing vulnerability is a strength.

Pink Chrysanthemum

Reversed Four of Laurels, Reversed Five of Swords, Upright Three of Wands, Upright The Lovers, Reversed Six of Swords

You are the type of lover that is overly generous with your time, energy, effort and resources. You may often get taken advantage of in your partnerships and they may leave you feeling like the grass is greener on the other side. This doesn't necessarily mean with other people, but sometimes you feel it's easier to grow and achieve your goals and desires when you're single and on your own. You're highly independent, while also being a "lover-boy" or "lover-girl" deep down. You fall deeply in love very fast, and can just as easily fall out of love. You're the type to want to be very intimately close to your partner, physically and emotionally. I feel lots of scorpionic energy, and 8th house energy. You're a very nostalgic person and tend to view relationships as important lessons no matter how long or short they are. Though you are nostalgic, you are able to cut people off with a swiftness. You are able to let go of attachments easily and sever cord ties with others when they have taken advantage of your generosity and kindness for too long. And you can easily look ahead to your future, you hold a strong optimistic attitude for your next adventure in romance and love and you can daydream and visualize about it easily. Though you can easily cut past people off energetically, you may leave doors open for them to physically contact you, such as through social media and texting. You may interact with past partners, but they can very much tell that you have emotionally and mentally have moved on. You're against the drama, and are able to be civil with past partners when you see them at different events, functions or social situations involving mutual friends. You tend to wish past partners well, and it sometimes halts them in their tracks if they want to be petty or try and make you jealous.

Orange Marigold

Upright Queen of Swords, Upright Five of Cups, Neutral Temperance, Upright Eight of Cups, Upright King of Swords, Reversed Page of Laurels

You are the type of lover that is very logical and somewhat mysterious at times. Though you express yourself easily and clearly, others feels there's much more that lies beyond the surface. When you are feeling more emotional or moody, you tend to retreat to a safe place to let your guard down instead of in front of partners. Some people feel you may put a mask on of who you really are, or that you try to act more tough than you need to be. The imagery of Mulan bathing in a lake comes to mind, it's one of the only times in the movie she allows herself to "be a woman." But her friends come and disturb her from being able to fully immerse herself in her femininity, and she feels the need to hide her true self. Whether you are a man, woman or in-between. I think this means you feel guilty for showing or feeling your femininity and you lean into your masculinity. You are evolving into becoming more balanced between your feminine and masculine. I think your strength, resilience, toughness and logical attitude seduce people in ways that you can become an obsession or drug to some people, or you can sometimes get obsessive or love people like vices. I feel strong push and pull dynamics, and maybe you have an avoidant attachment style. Additionally, you sometimes over-invest or overspend you time, resources, and effort on others. Prominent love languages in your life may be gift giving or words of affirmation, whether that is giving or receiving.

#oracle #oracle reading #psychic #flower tarot #tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a card tarot #pick a card reading #purpleturtletarot #tarot reader #intuitive reading #queen of swords #temperance #king of swords #the lovers

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jjscrybaby · 6 months ago

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𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 💿 — 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (reader has hair, a fight, mentions of sex, kissing.)

masterlist.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

JJ Maybank’s type was simple; girls that he never had to see again. It didn’t matter what colour hair they had, their height or personality, all he cared about was the sex and the lack of them the next morning. It was a running theme though that the majority of the girls he went for were Pogues, loud, reckless and naughty.

He was a man whore, all his friends loved to tease him about it but in reality it was deeper than that. It wasn’t that he’d never thought about falling in love like they did in the movies Sarah watched, it was the fear he felt when he’d think of that. The idea of being stuck with someone, giving them all of your trust when they could so easily walk away, he didn’t like the thought.

Not to mention, he’s not the ideal boyfriend. He’s been locked up more times than he could count, he smoked weed like he was drinking water and he was easily angered which always ended with his fist in another man’s face.

He didn’t want to be at the bar alone, but non of his friends would go with him. John B and Sarah were staying in, Sarah couldn’t drink due to the pregnancy and John B felt bad to go out without her, Cleo and Pope were having a movie night and he didn’t feel like listening to them bicker about morality and shit, Kiara was on a date with her new girlfriend and he definitely wasn’t invited to that. So, that lead to him stepping into the bar by himself ready to drink himself to death.

JJ was a regular at the Tangled Line, a bar on the edge of the pier which he’d been going to since he was fifteen. He knew everyone in there, the regular old men that sit in the corner, the owners who should be divorced but aren’t and the staff. That’s why he’s shocked when he takes a seat at the sticky bar and comes face to face with you.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice is sweet but professional, something he doesn’t hear a lot in this kind of place.

You don’t look like you belong here, a ropey bar full of old men that are sure to spend their night shamelessly flirting with you. You look too sweet. Too good. You may be the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and for the first time maybe ever he’s at a loss for words.

“Um, yeah, just a lager,” he mumbled, eyes stuck on the kind smile you shoot him as you turn to grab a glass to make his drink.

“Five dollars, please,” you request, placing the drink in front of him.

He rummages through his jean pockets to find the loose cash he’d grabbed from Pope’s wallet — Pope wouldn’t mind — and placed a few notes down. You put the cash in the register and went back to standing, no other customers around. It was nine pm on a Tuesday, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“So, what’s your name?” JJ asked, after taking a few sips of his drink. You looked over at him, as if checking he was talking to you. “I just haven’t seen you around here before.” You introduce yourself, giving him a shy smile. It was obvious you hadn’t expected him to take any notice of you, and that made his confidence grow. “You just moved here?”

“Yeah, uh, my nan lives here,” you explained. “She offered for me to come stay with her for a bit, see if I like the change.”

“And do you?” He smirked, sipping his drink once again.

“Haven’t decided yet,” you shrugged sheepishly, fiddling with a charm bracelet on your wrist. “It’s only been a couple weeks, and I haven’t had the chance to meet anyone yet.”

“Yeah, this place ain’t exactly huge with the young folk,” JJ responded.

You let out a giggle and it’s like music to his ears, he grins back at you. “I’ve noticed, yeah. You’re probably the first person in here that’s not over forty.”

“Maybe I just look really good for my age,” he smirked.

“Maybe,” you giggle again, before an older man comes over for a refill and you walk to the other side of the bar.

JJ can’t take his eyes off of you as you work, and when you notice your cheeks heat up with a pink tint. He’s not sure what’s wrong with him, he has an urge to jump over the bar and kiss your glossy lips until you’re putty in his hands. It’s not the same feeling he gets with hookups, though, with them it’s all lust for his own pleasure; he feels like he wants to put you in his pocket and never let you out.

“So, what made you want to make the change?” He carried on the conversation when you walked back over towards him, not giving you a chance to go too far away.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “My nana said I needed to let loose, stop being so uptight. My mom wasn’t happy with me moving but she agreed in the end.”

“Let loose, huh?” He smirked, downing the rest of his beer before leaning forward towards you. “What time do you get off?”

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

When you’d moved to the Outerbanks, you never expected to meet someone like JJ. Someone that actually paid so much attention to you that you usually felt yourself blushing, someone who lives life in such a peculiar way.

He lives with all of his friends, and he works for their own business in a building that they built. You figured he’d only pay attention to you for a couple days, he already had a life here, but it had been over a month and you were still waking up with texts from him.

“Havin’ fun?” Kiara sat next to you, a smirk on her lips as she took in the sight of you. She’s never seen someone go to a party and read, but there’s a first time for everything.

“Yeah,” you smiled, looking over at her. She gave you a look, as if to say really? You sighed, smile still on your face. “Parties aren’t really my kind of thing, but JJ wanted me to come.”

“It’ll probably take awhile to find him, he gets easily distracted,” Kie joked, making you giggle.

“I don’t mind waiting,” you shrugged, nodding to the book that laid open in your lap.

“It’s nice, seeing JJ like this. He isn’t normally one to keep girls around.” Kiara was clearly tipsy, ready to reveal every secret about JJ she could think of. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows, looking at her as she carried on speaking. “He seems to really like you.”

“You think so?” You asked softly, hopefully.

She nodded her head, giving you a drunken smile. “I hope it works out. You’re fun, for someone that sits and reads books at parties. And I think you’d be really good for him.”

Before you can ask her what she means, her girlfriend calls for her and she goes stumbling away. You look around until your eyes land on JJ, he’s already looking at you.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

JJ had become a regular at the Tangled Line, not for the booze but for you. He’d sit at the bar and chat to you throughout your shift, and then he’d drive you back to your nana’s house afterwards. Tonight, he’d shown up and had a couple beers, which then turned into vodkas.

You only had an hour left, most of the time you were just wiping down the bar to give you something to do so you weren’t just staring at the clock. You were halfway through a conversation with JJ, giggling at one of his flirty jokes, when you got interrupted.

“Oi!” Your head swivelled at the sound of an annoyed voice, an older man who you’d served earlier on stood there. “Gonna do your fuckin’ job or what?”

“I’m sorry—” you went to apologise, but JJ beat you to it.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” JJ was standing now, walking towards the man who had a scowl on his face.

“Not you,” he argued. “Get me a—”

“Nah, don’t talk to her. I’m talkin’ now,” JJ interrupted, once again. They were chest to chest now, and you were just watching with wide eyes. You’d never seen him like this, eyes narrowed and face red in anger. “Now, why don’t you try and ask nicely, huh? She don’t owe you shit.”

“It’s her damn job. Ain’t my fault she’s too busy whorin’ herself out to you to do her job—” he was cut off with JJ’s fist connecting with his cheek, sending her head to the side.

“JJ!” You exclaimed, covering your mouth in shock as the two of them started to fight.

JJ had the upper-hand the majority of the time, but the older man managed to get a few good hits in. By the time they were being dragged apart, JJ was spitting blood and the other was almost entirely unconscious.

“You need to get out of here!” You exclaimed to him, watching someone pull out their phone to call the cops.

“Fuck, no!” JJ argued.

“JJ,” you plead, trying to push him out the door.

“You comin’ with me?” He asked, looking down at you. His eye was starting to swell and blood stained his nose and lips.

“I’m gonna have to go grovel for my job—” you began to argue. He grabbed ahold of your waist, shaking his head.

“You hate this job. And I don’t want you workin’ here, servin’ other people that talk to you like that jackass. I’ll help you find another job, okay? I promise. Just come with me,” he begged.

You hesitated, looking back at where the man JJ had hit was slowly coming back to it, being held back by another man as he tried to get at JJ. You could see your boss coming out from the back, looking around in confusion. Your eyes landed on JJ, the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t going to leave without you.

“Fine, come on,” you sighed, ignoring the smirk that played on his bloody lips.

His fingers laced through yours and the two of you made a run for it out the building and down the road, he was chuckling but you didn’t find any of this amusing. You shoved at his arm once the two of you were far enough away.

“What?” He laughed.

“It’s not funny, JJ! You’re bleeding,” you argued, finally taking a proper look at the damage. He didn’t look that bad, once the blood was washed away there would probably only be a few bruises, but the sight still made your stomach churn.

“C’mon, baby, he deserved it,” JJ murmured, leaning down towards your face.

You sighed, pulling your hair from ponytail it was in to run your fingers through it. He reached for your waist, wrapping his arm around your back to hold you close to him.

“You’re an idiot,” you huffed, resting your face in his chest for a moment. “I can’t afford not to have a job.”

“We’ll get you a new one, one without old pricks who think they can talk to you like that,” JJ reassured, pressing a soothing kiss to your temple.

You wanted to shout at him, maybe even walk away and just go home. You’d never seen JJ like that before, John B had mentioned a few stories of JJ being in fights but you didn’t realise it could get that bad. You’d been a bit afraid at all the yelling and the blood splatters, but you couldn’t help the smugness you felt; he’d fought for you.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

As promised, JJ got you a new job at the Wreck where Kiara and her family worked. He’d had to beg her to do him this favour, but luckily for both him and you, Kiara had become fond of you and she didn’t hate the idea of working with you.

You were locking up the restaurant, it was your turn to stay late and lock up, when you stepped outside you were met with a familiar camper-van and an even more familiar blonde leaning against it.

“I thought John B banned you from borrowing the Twinkie?” You teased, walking towards him.

He smirked back at you, shaking his head. “Sarah was bein’ sick so he was too busy to notice me take the keys.”

“Naughty,” you giggled, letting him open the passenger door for you. “I didn’t know you were pickin’ me up.”

“You haven’t got plans, right?” He checked, ignoring your statement.

You shook your head and he grinned, closing your door before jogging around to get in the drivers seat. You asked countless times where you were going, but each time he’d just give your knee a squeeze and turn the radio up higher. He pulled up at the beach, but an area you hadn’t seen before. It was secluded behind some rocks, just a small area of sand and the sea.

“What’s this?” You asked as he helped you step over the rocks.

“It’s my place,” he shrugged, sitting down on the sand. You sat next to him and his arm gravitated to wrap around your waist, a gentle kiss pressed to your cheek. “I— I wanna talk to you, ‘bout somethin’, guess I’ve been too afraid to do it.”

“Afraid? Of what?” You looked at him worriedly, resting your hand on his bicep comfortingly.

He gulped, giving you an anxious smile. “Y’don’t know much about how I was before you moved here, don’t really like talkin’ about it. I don’t want you to think of me like that, how everyone else does.”

“What do you mean, Jayj?” You asked gently.

“I’m not a good guy,” he murmured, looking out to the ocean. “And I don’t mean that in a self-pity way, it’s just a fact, y’know? I sleep with loads of girls and never call them back, I get in fights and end up locked up, literally every cop on this damn island knows me by name.”

“Really?” You didn’t sound judgmental, just surprised, and that’s what gave him the strength to keep going.

“My old man’s not a good guy either, guess I just grew up thinkin’ all this shit was right and now I’m older I know it’s not, but I could never get out of the habit of treatin’ everyone like shit. But then… well, then you came along,” he explained, voice softening at the end as he turned to look at you.

“Me?” It had been impossible to work out what you and JJ were. He flirted, sure, he’d hold your hand and kiss your forehead and beg for you to hangout with him, but he hadn’t outright said how he felt. You knew how you felt, though. You knew that whenever his eyes met yours your stomach would flutter, you knew that your waist would burn from his touch and you’d stay up late thinking of him when you couldn’t sleep.

“Yeah, baby, you,” he confirmed, a teasing tone. “I ain’t ever had proper feelings for a girl, guess that’s why it’s taken me so damn long to admit it to you.”

“Still haven’t,” you beamed, cheeks flushed and eyes excited.

He chuckled, turning his full body to face you. His hands cupped your cheeks and he leant forward so your breath was mingling with his. “I love you.” Your eyes widened, you hadn’t been expecting that. “That okay?”

“Yeah, definitely okay,” you whispered back. “I love you, too.”

He leant in and his lips touched yours, moving gently against your own. His hands were cold against your skin, but you never wanted him to let go. You brain went fuzzy and you pulled away slightly, breathing hard.

“You remind me of home,” you murmured softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“You are home.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #obx

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