#ray heart okay...?

[gifti3]

the goverment is definitely figuring out this alien situation asap right?? cause whats happening currently is not feasible in the long run is it not??

im sure they are trying to maybe figure it out...probably, but part of me feels like it is not being treated with the seriousness it should be by them, which ig is in character LOL

pretty much relying on one guy (who doesnt even wanna be doing this) is actually scary

and the mc still has to like 'encourage' him to do it, tho its much easier in the 'ray ending' for sure. that man just wants to live a regular life with mc (unfortunately for him that means continuing to be binary star and dealing with aliens)

and if i was a citizen and knew this id be panicking

like yea u have these other heroes helping and stuff which im sure looks comforting from an outside point of view! but like the actuality is that its ray keeping things afloat

AND ON THE TOPIC OF THE MC, i was definitely in my head like....wouldnt rays superiors (managers??) get like curious about them? like no way theyre not being nosy about it after a certain amount of time passes. it really feels like something that could be leveraged against him,,, (if there is fic about this pls send it to me lol)

honestly i feel like mc and rays relationship would have moments of high stress. like there will be good times but also the bad times will also be there and its sometimes gonna be because of outside factors they cant control

[chrismcshell]

4:30am in a hospital waiting room. hi

[yagurlhere]

WARNING:SPOILERS

It's Fryeover.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Ten: "Getting Better All The Time." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Okay! Here it is! Chapter fucking ten at long last. So I hope everyone loves this, shit is getting serious in a lot of ways. Just wait for shit to pick up after this one because it is about to go off. I’d looove to see ChatGTP do something like this but we all know that it is incapable. Either way, I adore this fic, it’s my baby, I am obsessed with it, this has some moments in it that I have had planned since the fic was in the planning stages. Masterlist for the whole series here. Shoutout to @eggsandbeer for the proofread on this and betaing it. Enjoy!

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Rating. Somewhat NSFW. Length. 6.6K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Softness. Fluff. Mentions Of Sex. Emotional Closeness. Cunnlingus. Smoking. Drinking. Serious Emotional Developments. Mentions Of Murder. 

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Why did the lasagna she made earlier taste even better when reheated? Was it that you were that hungry or was it the fact that Tiffany is the one currently feeding it to you while you are post sex and still in the warm sheets of her and Chucky’s bed that made it so delicious? You did not know and you did not care, you found that to be the trend when you were with them. 

“You have to show me how to make this.” You sighed with your hand over your mouth, trying to still be polite even with the bite she fed you, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.  

She is leaning against Chucky, her head on his shoulder, you take them in at this moment, they look so right next to each other, the easy physical contact between the pair is second nature. Tiffany responds to you, “Name the time and place.” 

“So you were serious about your offer before?” You inquired and she gave a questioning look before you filled in the blank, “When you said you would show me how to cook?” 

She sounded slightly confused, “I said show you some recipes but don’t you know how to cook? You made us that great dinner.” 

“Yeah, those burgers were fucking good.” Chucky affirmed with a nod and you looked away, “Welll-...I’m not that great at cooking, I know how to make like five things, I eat out and do takeout the rest of the time, I don’t have that many skills in the kitchen. But I’d really like to get better.” 

Tiffany’s hand landed on your knee, your eyes drop to the new point of touch before looking up to see that she leaned closer and said, “Oh sweetheart, c’mon we all have gaps in places, if you didn’t have someone to take the time to show you, how would you ever know?”

She was so impossibly sweet. A soft smile creeps onto your face as you respond, “You make a good point.”

“So it’s settled, I’ll show you how to cook.” 

She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, with a casual shrug. You couldn’t wait. 

When you all did settle down for sleep it wasn’t like a typical sleepover. No talking in the dark for hours, you were all beat, their bed was comfortable, on top of that you felt so safe, you passed out between the pair of them sometime around four in the morning. You didn’t wake up until a while after noon, the start of the morning, or afternoon rather, was slow. You weren’t in a rush to get out of bed, you didn’t have anywhere to be for hours yet. Once you were all aware of being awake you managed to get even closer together. You didn’t know that being in bed like this, squished between two people could feel so fucking good, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable or too hot, you just feel embarrassingly and overwhelmingly happy. 

You all move slowly. 

No real rush. You didn’t have work for hours yet, not till tonight, and intended to soak up this last bit of time with them. Chucky is brushing his teeth and you are sitting on their bed while Tiffany is perched in front of her vanity, brushing her hair and she breaks the comfortable silence to suggest, “How about we all go out for breakfast?”

Sounded perfect to you and the pleased hum of agreement that comes from the bathroom tells you that he thinks so too.

You get in your jeans and Tiffany offers you a shirt, you all get your stuff together and around a half hour later are stepping out of their apartment building into the warm sunlight. The storm is definitely over but Christ the city got dumped on hard, piles of snow everywhere, the snowplows still hadn’t caught up even though it is almost one p.m. There was, of course, only one option of where to go to eat. 

The diner you love, the one near your work, that same one that you ran into them that rainy night and they invited you to stay and talk. It wasn’t busy at the moment, you end up in that same booth, both of them on the other side and you across from them just like before, you had the coats piled on the seat next to you, menus in hand and coffee in mugs, more awake as you talk about what to get. You know you look a bit ridiculous, the smile just will not leave your face but you are too happy to care. 

You think you might have ordered a little too much, the table is practically covered between the plates of food, mugs of coffee and glasses of juice. You wanted sweet but also craved something more savoury so compromise was made. You all got your own more traditional meals, bacon, eggs, hash browns but got a big plate of the small stack of pancakes to split. 

The mood is light and seemingly brightening, Chucky doesn’t seem like much of a morning person but with coffee and food he seems to be much more present, Tiffany also seems to be in better spirits. They both got their eggs the same way as that previous night, his over easy, hers scrambled with chives, she prefers white toast, he takes rye and you like learning all these small details that help make them, them. The tiny things that they like and dislike, that you come to know through spending ample time with someone or in their case, someone’s.

“So what are the best pancakes?” You asked as you were cutting into the one you’d just hauled onto your plate, and Chucky answers easily, “Chocolate chip.” 

“Really?” You asked and he hums, “I don’t always want something sweet but when I crave it I want it really sweet.” 

“Fair enough and you?” The question is posed to Tiff and she says, “Plain jane, butter and syrup is enough.” 

You told her with a smile, “Weak answer. I expected better of you.” 

She quirked a brow at your teasing, responding with, “Yet we got the plain and you’re busting my balls.”  And you tell her, “Blueberry is clearly the best, when the berries are in season it is divine but sadly, tragically they are-”

“Out of season, yeah I get you. So you’re stuck with subpar cakes, how terrible.” She reaches across the table and holds your hand and you sigh, “Right? I am so hard done by.” 

Chucky was cutting into his eggs as he said with a smile, “Poor thing. You should kiss that frown right off her face.” 

If only you weren’t in public then she could, she lets go of your hand and picks up her knife and fork again. 

“I am shocked he doesn’t pull that card more often.” Tiffany said and you responded before you take a sip of your coffee, “I think it might get worse now that he’s fucked me.” 

“Think?” Tiffany questioned and you laughed and he glanced around as he said, “Ignoring how mean you both are to me-” once sure no one in the place was looking or listening he was leaning closer over the table and he said quieter, “-how fun was last night?”

“Oh my God.” Tiffany put down her silverware a little too loudly and you nearly dropped your mug at the flood of memories as well as how candid he was being, your response leaves you hushed and quickly as you reply, “Unreal. I am pretty sure if we filmed and tried to sell it we might never have to work again.” 

“Wow one time in and she’s ready to be a porn star, you know how to pick em Chucky.” He fires back at her, “Like you weren’t loving seeing her and I fuck.” 

“Oh no I was very, very into it.” She admitted and you bite your bottom lip for a moment and nod, “Yeah Tiff we both felt how wet you were, we know.”  

This was great. Being able to go out and quietly but openly talk about how great the sex you had with them last night in hushed tones over plates of bacon and eggs is fantastic, it’s needed and thoroughly exciting.

You paid for breakfast since Tiffany made dinner last night and you all end up outside the place saying good-bye. They were lighting up for their first smoke of the day, post meal, and Chucky said on an exhale of smoke, “Great time last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

“Me either. Wish we could keep hanging out but I have to go return these tapes and do some stuff before work.” You explained and Tiffany waved you off, “No worries, we’ll see you soon. I’ll get that shirt back from you one way or another.” 

“You’ll have to steal it off my back.” You tell her with a wave. 

“Tempting, tempting.” Tiffany said and Chucky chimed in and you hear him asking her as you break off, “I get a front row seat, right?” 

You laugh with a shake of your head as you head into the opposite direction, you return those video tapes, you have a shower, get ready for work and have as good a shift as you can.

Things with them just got so much better, it really felt like that sleepover brought you much closer together. 

They visit you more often at work again, you have dates here and there. You have planned dates and short spur of the moments that you carve out in busy schedules to show how important you all are to each other as well as being able to just satisfy those needs to spend time together. Some of these dates included more dinners out, grabbing coffee, another movie here and there and of course, enjoying the new expanded physical aspects of your relationship immensely. 

You are happier than you thought possible, you didn’t think you needed a serious romantic attachment like this, assumed you were content as is but this isn’t the first time that you were wrong about something. You are deep in the honeymoon period of dating them and intend on just soaking it up. 

It had been about three weeks since that first sleepover and there hadn’t been another one yet but you didn’t mind that at all, things had been a little hectic and you had seen them more than enough to make up for it. You even had some fantastic solo dates with them one on one which were really great. You loved spending time together but appreciate that you could spend time with just one of them and there were no weird feelings or jealousy. Being able to get together with just two of you was easier at times than being able to get all three of you in the same place, you are glad that you all were on the same page, if you only saw them when you could be a trio you would see them much less. 

You had that solo date with Tiffany about a week and a half after your sleepover. She and Chucky had stopped by your work for a drink and after you set down her glass she took your hand before you could pull it away and said, “I love your nails. Where do you get them done?” 

The current colour was a good one, you had painted them this adorably soft glittery kind of blush pink, nail ends longer and rounded, they were shiny and bright. You painted them last week and liked how they looked against the darker uniforms you usually wore for work along with the harsher make-up, the dichotomy was fun. “I paint them myself.”

Her jaw drops, she brings your hand up closer, inspecting your fingers more carefully and said, “No way! These are like salon quality! Like I thought this was a professional manicure.” 

You respond to her, smiling warmly, “Tiffany, Jesus that is so sweet, you mean it?” 

“I do! You totally have to do mine!” Her eyes were bright, her smile big and her hands felt so soft as they held yours, you tell her, “I’d love to.” 

So a date was made that night. Chucky encouraged it heavily since he had something to do and the next day Tiffany was coming to your apartment after lunch for a little spa date in. You let her in and soon you are sitting at the kitchen table, nail kit out, radio on and she sat with you as you began to scrub the old colour off her nails, “This is so nice, I was going to go pay for a manicure this week but now you are saving me some money.” 

“About time after how much you and Chuck spend on me.” You tease as you remove the deep purple and she asks, “So where did you learn to do this?”

“Self taught. I love having nice nails, I think it makes a good impression, I love how they make me feel, so I thought instead of spending money I thought why not do it myself?” 

“I love that.” She said it so sincerely and this was lovely. Having her alone in your place, doing one of your favourite things, is there a better way to spend an afternoon? She leaned over, she kissed you and your fingers stopped working for a moment as you returned it, leaning over, kissing her deeper, revelling in it before she moved back, breaking it. You have her nails clean and you are shaping them with a nail file and asked, “What colour are you thinking of?”

“I am considering black.” You hummed, you thought of her with sharp shiny onyx nails and it is a good look, you nod and agree with her, “I think that would look great.” 

You focused on filing and a comfortable silence fell over you both. Your mind however was still whirring and running, you had been getting into this habit ever since that sleepover, you started to feel more comfortable overall and would ask them questions about the relationship Chucky and Tiffany had before you were in the picture. The questions were small and quick, posing them to her or him on occasion when they pop up, “When did you get together?” “What is the first meal you cooked for Chucky?” “How did you bond so quickly?”

You got satisfactory answers and they found it sweet you wanted to know, it had gotten to a point they were offering up some information on their own. Which led to this, to now, a break in the conversation, with you starting up the conversation by asking quietly, “Is there anything about Chuck you don’t know?”

“Oh I dunno, he has told me a lot but I don’t think I know everything, you however, still have so much to learn.” She muses and you ask with a small smile, “Yeah? Like what?

Her grin nearly splits her face, eyes full of mischief, she asks, “Are you trying to get me to tell all his secrets?”

“No, God no, not all of them, Tiff.” You tell her before asking, “How about you just start by telling me one?”

“Just one?” She asks and you nod, “Just one.”

“How am I supposed to pick?” She muses and you cut in, “How about your favourite one?” 

The look in her eyes shifts, she says, “I can do that.” She thinks, takes a moment and hums and then she says, “I got just the one.”

“Ooh this’ll be good.” You say mostly to yourself and she says, “You have no idea how good.” 

You finished filing, you were cleaning up and preparing to start painting her nails, “Well don’t keep me in suspense forever hon.” 

“I won’t! I’m just building tension.” She assures and after another beat she tells you, “He loves art.” 

That makes your eyebrows raise, “He loves art?”

“Loves it, more than that he is an artist himself, a painter mostly.” She says it so sincerely and you just have to believe her but still you question, “What does he paint?”

“Portraits, abstract, still life, fuck, almost anything and everything that strikes him just right.” She says and you say, genuinely surprised, “No fucking way.”

You love that, appreciate the fact she shared something so personal. “And how is he gonna feel about you sharing that?”

“He might not be the biggest fan but it will come out eventually, plus, I bet he will ultimately end up thanking me for it.”

“So confident.” You sigh as you shake the bottle of polish, she asks you, “Can you blame me?” 

“I can not.” You unscrew the cap of the polish and take her hand, and you say as you bring the brush down, “You know, I’m something of a painter myself.” 

She laughed, head tipping back as you start to paint, “Yeah you bring that up to him and I am sure he will find that hysterical.” 

Your conversation continues as you work, she tells you in soft tones about sweet things he had done, times he got her gifts, dates they had, intimate dinners, moments of tenderness and closeness and it makes you ache. You love what they have and adore that you get to be included and privy to this information. Your gaze moves up from painting her nails, taking in her expression as she has this heart wrenching gorgeous smile on her face, telling you about the time he managed to get her a reservation for a truly wonderful birthday dinner for her.

He makes her happy and that makes you happy too. 

Once they are done you are screwing the bottle top back on and telling her, “Right, they are done, tell me what you think.” 

She excitedly turned her hands over, fingers folded over to check them out up close and you watched the expression on her face shift, “Oh wow!”

“Good wow?” You ask and she scoffs, “Amazing wow.” 

You had to admit you were pretty proud of yourself. You went in really hard, sharpened the ends a touch, gave shape to her natural nails and the small slight sheen of glitter, very subtle, still didn’t go unnoticed by her. She flexed her fingers, watching how the light caught her nails at different angles and she said, “Seriously, you did it so quick too.”

True, less than an hour and her nails were good to go. “Now be careful with what you touch, they still need to dry properly.” 

“Terrible. I want to touch you.” That makes you pause from cleaning up your nail kit, your eyes flick to her and say carefully, “Well I guess you will have to wait.” 

She gets off her chair, starts to come around the table as she says, “Orrrr I could just not use my hands.” 

Now in front of you, bent at the waist, she kisses you and you return it easily before she starts to move, lips drag from your mouth to over the line of your jaw and down your neck. Head tipping back, you moan her name quietly at the affection, the quickness of the arousal sinking in, the heat she makes spark inside of you. Soon she is on her knees after having worked down your body, she is between your legs, cheek resting on your inner thigh and you got her hint. 

You assist her, strip what is needed and all too quickly you have a leg over one of her shoulders, her mouth working eagerly between your thighs and her hands holding yours, fingers laced together, showing off her pretty new manicure thanks to you. She is holding your hands for a few reasons, one, the added affection and closeness, and another, to keep her good and your hard work safe, otherwise she doubts she would be able to stop herself from touching you.

By the time she is leaving you are on cloud nine. The afternoon once her nails were dry and you both had cum at least twice you spent more time doing your little at home spa date, face masks and a shared bath and more, you feel relaxed and boneless as you lean against the door frame, clad in just a robe as you waved goodbye to her. 

You could get very, very used to solo dates with her, it was different than when you dated both of them at the same time but you liked the up close and personal look you got at her, how she acted just alone with you when he wasn’t there. 

Similarly when you were alone with him it was different but welcome. One night, a few days after your solo date with Tiffany, while you were at work he came in, she was apparently busy that night, he came by for some quality time, it was nice. When the place closed down, your duties finished and you managed to wiggle away from your coworkers you seek him out. He was waiting outside for you, a block over right where you told him to. He was leaning against the brick outside of a building, having a smoke and upon seeing you again he lights up, “There she is! Hey baby.”

You come up with a greeting of, “Hiya Chuck.” 

His hand that isn’t holding his smoke is gripping your hand and tugging you to him, he kisses you, it’s playful, you feel him smile against your lips and you return his kiss before pulling back, “Someone’s happy.” 

“I am! M’ happy and hungry too.” He was very tipsy from the drinks you’d served him, he had just thrown an arm around your shoulders and you asked him, “I could eat. So where are you thinking?”

“I dunno, you know this area well, any ideas?” He asked and you knew just the place, took him to that late night pizza place near your work you’d visited with your coworkers from time to time. 

Sitting at one of the two person tables at the back, a medium pizza to split and sodas you ask, “So you never said what is Tiffany getting up to tonight?”

“Ah nothing major, seein’ some friends of hers.” He said with a shrug. You wonder briefly if you will get to meet them and you asked, “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Nah she deserves some time alone with them and besides, I wanted to do this.” He said as he picked up a slice of pizza, “Do what?”

“This. Spend some time with you solo, Tiffany did and seemed like it was real nice.” He admitted and you asked, “She told you about it?”

“Yeah, filled me all in. Kept going on and on about how much she loved her nails.” He nodded before taking a bite, the rise of his eyebrows tattled on the fact that she told him about how she was on her knees in your kitchen. Your fingers were playing with the straw in your drink, “Did she tell you what she told me about you?”

He looks confused and asked after swallowing his current bite, “She told you somethin’ about me?” 

You figured she wouldn’t spill and you grin, “She did.” You let it hang for a moment and he said, “I hope it was good or flattering. Was it either of those things?” 

“Oh yeah I loved hearing it honestly. She told me that you like art, more than that, that you are an artist yourself.” He dropped his slice with a laugh, non greasy hand coming up to comb through his hair, “Christ Tiff, selling me out.” 

You laughed, “Awe, what? I think it’s great! Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” 

“S’ not something I talk about with just anyone, some people have given me shit over it previously, alright?” Fair enough. Again, you hid a pretty big thing and this was small in comparison. “I get that Chuck, but seriously, I’m not like them, you can talk to me about it.”

He looks you over, considering and he can’t help it, the smile comes back to his face and he sighs, “Fine, you’re right.” 

You appreciated his willingness and ability to be open with you. “How did it even come up, anyway?”

“I was asking her more stuff about you both before I came into the picture and she told me that.” 

“Is that all she said?” He asked and you told him, “No hardly, she told me about some dates you’ve had, sweet things you’ve said and done, she made you look really good.”

It is true. How she is around him, looks at him, speaks about him, makes you like him more, look at him in an even better light. “Well shit, I don’t wanna be left out, maybe I can tell you some stuff too.” 

That was a pleasant surprise. “Really? You are offering up information?” 

“I am. Maybe I’m a little too drunk but M’ in a good mood, so!” He clapped once before pointing at you, elbows resting on the table, leaning forward, “Fuck it. Ask away.” 

What to ask him? You had no idea how long this deal would be good for. Maybe he is just willing to be this open because of the amount of drinks he choked down earlier, you should take advantage of this. The idea strikes like lightning and you ask, “She told me about some dates you’ve had, but I am curious, what is your favourite one?” 

He didn’t need to think about it, he knew just which one, is he seriously going to tell you all about it? You were looking at him expectantly. Leaning closer and clearly very excited and fuck it, why not tell you? Who were you going to spill this too anyway? Cat was already out of the bag about him being into art so with that important detail divulged, the risk was nil. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. So back in New Jersey there was this old as fuck building, no one was using it for anything, no one cared about it, place was practically falling apart, right?” 

You nod along and listen as he tells you about it. This old building he talked about, the one no one gave a fuck about, he was able to do whatever he wanted with it because of that and what he decided to do with it was use it as a makeshift art studio. He’d do all his work there and spent ample time within the dilapidated walls. He’d been doing work in said building for months, the city didn’t seem in a rush to sell it or tear it down, just one of those things that fell through the cracks, he came and went as he pleased, no one bothered him and he liked it that way. 

“I met Tiff that night we told you about, where she was just so incredible I totally forgot about that other girl. We had been seeing each other for a while, and had started getting to that point of spending more nights together than not. I wanted to be in the studio that night but I also wanted to see her and I thought, you know what, fuck it? Why not bring her there.” 

He proceeded to tell you that he told her he had something to show her, brought her to the place and let her see all of it. She loved it, he talked to her about what pieces he liked best, motivations, times in his life and what was going on when he made them, what drove him to create them. Sounded like a very vulnerable conversation but you aren’t that surprised, Tiffany is a special kind of lady and they have a particular kind of bond. 

“She was looking at this series I had done, was tryna push myself by doing this set of still life and using very precise colour palettes, blah, blah, it ain’t that important but what it led to was.” 

“What did it lead to?” You were all too into the story and he could tell, he smiles and then expounds, “She asked me in that very Tiffany way of hers, I am sure you can hear it, all, ‘do you paint people?’ and I told her I have, I just hadn’t in a while, hadn’t had anyone to the studio but her.”

“Oh you fucking smooth talker. She must have eaten that up.” He shrugs but there is that cocky air about it that makes it totally clear he knows how what he said got to her. “I mean who wouldn’t?”

You certainly would have in her shoes. “So an idea struck me then, I told her why don’t I fix that?”

He didn’t have to say it, you realised it right then before he could utter the next sentence but you still listened, hanging off every word. “I offered to paint her.” 

How fucking romantic is that? You didn’t think he had it in him, even after all the sweet things Tiffany told you he did the other day. You wonder why she left this one out but you didn’t focus on it much. Just listened more as he told you the rest of it. 

“We were up all night. We ended up getting takeout, we drank, we smoked, we laughed and talked and I painted her.” 

“How was she?” You asked quietly and he imparted, “I had this bed there, this mattress I dragged into the space because sometimes I’d get so caught up working and I didn’t want to go back to my actual place, so I’d crash there. I wanted her to be comfortable, so she sat there, I had this stool and my canvas and-”

The place was going to close soon, you still had some slices left, soda’s half full, you don’t care, you ask, “And?”

It was summer. It was hot but not stiflingly so. He isn’t sure the time, it’s that time where it stops being late and the question of it being early creeps in. He can’t stop looking at her, she is not in much, the dress she wore suited the weather, straps slipped down her shoulders, hem had rode up her thighs, heels off and next to the empty and overturned bottle of wine at the foot of the mattress. She wore a smile, cigarette between her fingers, blonde hair piled up and out of her face except for the few small bits framing it. She was stunning, a perfect subject really, all curves and kept him engaged in conversation while he worked. She was so funny. She was telling him some story about her sister and he was making sure to keep his brush away from the canvas, and didn't want to make any mistakes so close to being down with this. His hand that wasn’t holding the brush was resting on the top of the canvas, his hair was pulled out of the way, his button up shirt was off, white tank top as well as his pants and arms sported a few paint stains. 

“And then what did she do?” He asked amusedly, and she giggled before telling him with a gesture of the cigarette in her hand, “She left! I mean fuck, would you stay after that shit? I dunno how she ever showed her face again!” 

He laughs and so does she. 

The urge of it surprises him. The laughter goes quiet. The conversation stops, falling into a comfortable silence, he is staring into her eyes and she is looking back. The space between them wasn’t much, he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to and fuck, he did want to. He speaks without thought, just tells her, honestly, “You know…Tiff I…I’ve never said this to, fuck, well anyone before but…”

“But?” She asks, a cock of her head, genuinely curious and he says it, almost as if he doesn’t believe it as the words leave his mouth, “I think I’m in love with you.” 

She leans over, the remainder of her cigarette stamped out in the ashtray, looking at him all the while, “Oh my God Chucky.”

Eyes scan his face and she takes in his body language and she says quietly, “You’re serious.” 

A nod, a somewhat nervous laugh that is more of an exhale than anything else, “I am sweetheart, I really am.” 

The tension is thick, it is quiet again, he asks, “Are you gonna leave a guy hanging here forever orrr?”

She smiles, a small laugh as she shakes her head, “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t think I had to say it, sweetface. Of course I love you.” 

Her hands reach out, the canvas is leaned carefully against the stool and he joins her on the bed. He kisses her first but she returns it fast, desperate, needy, laden with emotion and the main event of the evening, the painting, the act of creation, him the painter and her the muse, is forgotten, now both of them are consumed with expressing feelings for each other. The ceiling of the place isn’t intact, the orange light filtering in making her look even more gorgeous if that is somehow possible, as they have sex while the sun comes up, it is the most inspiring non violent experience he has ever had. 

After it is over they lie together, they smoke more, they talk and they have been on this date for over twelve hours. They go out for breakfast after, he finishes the painting at a different time, he tells you that is when things got really serious between him and Tiffany, that is when they start making plans, talking about a fresh start, moving. 

The pizza is eaten. The soda drank. The place is closed. You are on the street with him and stunned. “No wonder that is your favourite.” 

He is lighting up another smoke, he hums in acknowledgment and nods. 

After it’s lit you reach out, your hand closes his lighter, snuffing out the flame, he turns, looking down at you and you tell him, “You…Didn’t have to tell me all that but, the fact you did, it isn’t lost on me Chuck. Thank you. Really.” 

“Course. I thought you’d like to know and honestly? It felt good to share.” He has this expression, it is hard to define but it is one that you had seen look at Tiffany with previously, it says, affection and that makes you melt almost as much as the story did. 

You lean up, you kiss him, soft and sweet, when you break it, pull away you say, “I had no idea how much you loved art.”

He tries to play it off, tone very casual as he tells you, “Eh, it’s alright.” You laugh, a scoff with a roll of your eyes. You let it go. You hold hands and he walks you to the train station, you tell him, “We should go to a museum sometime.”

He squeezed your hand and told you sincerely, “Sounds fun.” 

You get home safe that night, feeling like you know them much, much better. You feel included, part of this, of what they have even before you were there by having this knowledge of how they were. A call from them a few days after brings you to dinner with them before you had to work. 

Showing up to their place dressed up, having to go start your shift sooner rather than later and happy to see them, it is a pretty usual date by all accounts. They talk you into a glass of wine, the food is lovely and you are just enjoying their company. So when the food is eaten, both of them take a hand of yours and the question of, “Will you be our girlfriend?” shocks you. 

“What?” You asked and your eyes flicked back and forth between them, hands were sweaty, you didn’t want to let go but you wanted to wipe them off on your napkin, she speaks and distracts you, “We’ve been talking a lot.”

“So much.” He nods and she says, “We’ve been doing this for a while now and we both really like you.”

You had no idea what to say. Sure you had been dating, you’d kissed and had sex and shared pieces of yourself with them that you hadn’t with anyone, they had done their own fair share of divulging but still, you thought you were just a side thing, you knew they cared but not to this level, you thought you were ultimately some fun. You were okay with that, just getting to have them in any small way was fine for now, you didn’t think about the future, didn’t think this was building towards anything serious. 

He asks, “So what do you say?”

Yet here they were, offering to bring you into the fold, actually make you a part of their relationship. They were offering it out and you felt your heart burst. Warmth floods and you tell them, “Yes, I say yes, of course. I’d love to be.” 

You kiss him first. You kiss her next. They both pull you back to their bedroom.

You are late for work that night, coming in with hair that is just a little too messy, lipstick that is smudged and legs that are just a tad too shaky and a smile that refuses to leave. There are apologies to your coworkers, a lie about the train being late and they buy it, they don’t question because you are never late. 

Losing yourself to the rhythm of work, your mind isn’t focused thought, it’s on them. Girlfriend, you are their girlfriend. You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, you have two partners, there is no question of how this would work because so far it has been working super well. You wondered how much better things could get, what this would mean. Your mind runs back over all the times you had seen them both, especially before you got together, are you going to get to that level but not just with one person but both? God, you hoped.

You were absurdly overjoyed, so light. 

Mid-way through your shift, there is a call of your name. You turn and see Rachel, she wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, wasn’t working, at first you smile, figuring maybe she came in for a drink. You wave but then your smile starts to fall, she looks pale, sickly, and rushing towards you frantically. She catches you, hands taking the one of yours that isn’t holding your tray, “Woah Rach, hi, what’s wrong?”

She was breathing so hard, she was talking so fast, babbling out, “I can’t believe it, I know you said not to worry and I tried not to but it felt wrong, not like I thought you were wrong but it just wasn’t right, you know?”

“Rachel, honey, please, slow down, I can’t follow you at all.” She was freaking you out. Your stomach was sinking, you were very worried about her, you’d never seen her so frazzled. She nods, sucks down a deep breath and nods before forcing herself to say slowly, “Do you remember Randall? My old regular?”

You nod as you asked, “Yeah of course hon, what about him?” 

She then says something that makes your blood run cold and feel like the floor drops out from under you, squeezing her hand as hard as she was holding yours, “The police just questioned me, he is missing, presumed dead.” 

So much for your high you were previously on. 

[selinas-ships]

I think you missed the post I made but here’s the digital drawing I did of Quya!!! :3

I HOPE YOU LIKE ITT :D!! (Also if I ever write any fanfics for Rayco I’ll definitely be adding her in there for a cameo or two lmaoo)

💗- @pastelpousay

WHAT IF I CRIED

WHAT IF I STARTED SOBBING HYSTERICALLY /POS POS POS

OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER!!!!!

[phantomforce]

❝ hey, hey, slow — slow down — i need you to — morales. morales. ❞ his hands will raise, a half - hearted attempt to quell the other’s excitement, but it’s truly to no avail. curious, sun - bright / brimming with a vitality that would make any flower unfurl from its hiding place — the latest to join their society, & the one that he least expected to speak to him without an ounce of hesitation. a mile a minute, question after question that he cannot bring himself to answer, because there is no moment for his voice to be heard. not when his very existence stands as a source of complete captivation, an enigma that had no hope of being comprehended — an oddity through & through, a fact that has made this boy ecstatic beyond words . . . . & the beginning of a smile pull at the corner of ronan’s lips. mirth melts him down, & reminiscent of a laugh, a huff of air is breathed through his nose. a hand lifts, & from that small wave alone, a phantom limb sprouts from the other’s shoulder & reaches over to cover his mouth. ❝ my power has to do with the supernatural — super speed isn’t included in that. take a breath. start over. now, i’m going to LET you go — ❞ the limb flickers, dissipates. ❝ and i want you to take each question one at a time. my mouth can only work so fast. ❞

@42spider liked for a starter ( ♡ ) !!

[firelilyofthevalley]

Pure gold, light of my life or ray of sunshine -type of stuff, right there 🥇💛✨️

Sabo thinks the bugs luffy sends him are so cool actually.

Oda let them have each other’s snail number i swear to god. Let them chat on the weekends. Let luffy send 2000000 sniksnoks (snail tiktok’s) and please let sabo reply to every single one of them with a custom reply.

Also Imagining sabs texting luffy “send venture?” Whenever he’s [enter first panel here] And luffy taking a pic of wherever he is at the time

I JUST WANT THEM TO BE MORE IN EACHOTHER’S LIVES IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK JEEEZZZZ

[hooperfag]

im not emotionally invested in this wolves/okc matchup but ohhhh tomorro w i am going to go Crazy i am toooo invested in the knicks but havig. to watch them take down my precious hali? UGHHHH

[huntingrays]

writing this wip being like “nah this chapter only gets angsty at the end” and then proceeding to cry as i write

these boys got me in my feels

i’m a sucker for jason comforting leo, but there’s something special and gut punching about it being reversed that really gets to me

[wisdomshoes]

you know i just realized my boy is blue is actually kinda rocking a whole fucking black parade thing (well except blue, blue parade)

"No I know that I can make you stay, but where's your heart, but where's yoooour heaaart, but where's. your. AND I KNO" -Rouxls after finding out his puzzle sucks and it's not stopping anyone

admireth the worm

[bluebeary-jay]

Crawlin' back to you

Joel Miller x f!sunshine!Reader

Summary: you ask Joel for help while preparing for your upcoming date with another man. (or so it seems)

Tags: grumpy x sunshine, idiots in love, sweet sweet fluff, age gap, a drop of angst, peepaw is insecure abt his age :(, Jackson era, Joel is kind of slow but it's okay we still love him (pookie doesn't realize how hot he is), me dancing around the smut like i'm a fucking circus acrobat

Word count: 4K

A/N: sooo very long time no see 🙈 ever since the start of 2025 i'm telling myself to get back into writing but it still felt like a chore lol. but i REALLY wanted to finish this fic before tlou s2 drops so here it is!!! i'm really proud of how it turned out and i hope to write more in the near future. love you all so so much and as always, happy reading!! 💕

dividers by @saradika 🩷

Joel Miller didn't have friends.

He had a couple of buddies before the outbreak with whom he used to watch the game sometimes, but nothing more than that. Tommy didn't count, of course, because he was his brother and therefore had to be nice to him. The only other person who could put up with him was Ellie, but the kid was… a kid. As for the other people in Jackson, they were wise to keep their distance from Joel, not wanting to hang around a shadow of a man such as him.

He didn't mind. He liked the peace and quiet, and it didn't bother him one bit that everyone seemed to give him a wide berth, whispering about the danger that he was.

Well, almost everyone avoided him. You, the exact person that should stay far away from a man like Joel Miller, gravitated to him with an almost effortless ease. Even amongst all the hopeful people that created Jackson, you were the purest, brightest ray of sunshine, always helpful and compassionate towards anyone who came your way. And even though Joel wasn't exactly welcoming to you in the beginning, you never gave up and persisted – and eventually, befriended him.

And ever since the first time you spoke to him, he didn't stand a chance. You were young and pretty, and so charming with your innocent optimism… Before Joel realized, he was fantasizing about you during the lonely evenings, dreaming of your voice late in the night, and looking for you in the crowd when he was out of the house.

He was way too old to feel this kind of way, and every now and then it felt like he was balancing on a tightrope between being stupid and borderline creepy. Such a sweet girl like you wouldn't look twice at an old man like him if she knew the things that sometimes ran through his mind when he was seeing other men flirting with you, seeking the same warm light that Joel grew addicted to.

That was the poison mixed with your sweetness – even though it was irrational, with you everything seemed easier than it was.

…even falling in love.

And fall Joel Miller did. It was an embarrassing, tainted experience, especially when he remembered how much older than you he was. But he couldn't help it, and once this burning want became clear to him, he didn't really want to fight it, either.

You were everything he should stay far away from – young, pretty and so bright with your smiles, your hope, your innocence. A sinner like Joel Miller had no place in your life, and yet he couldn't muster the courage to let you go. It was selfish of him, he knew, but spending time in your company was one of the few brightsides of his life… and he didn't have many of those, lately. He genuinely enjoyed being near you – a lot more than he probably should.

That's why, when he noticed you skipping his way with a bright smile splattered across your cheeks, he felt his heart instantly lighten. It was a hard day of work at the construction site and he was relieved to finally be heading home, but just the sight of you made the weariness disappear from within his bones.

“Joel! Hi!” Something must have stirred you quite strongly, for you were practically bouncing with excitement. The words were spilling out of your mouth before he even had a chance to say hello. “I need your help, right now. Please.”

“Slow down, darlin’,” he chuckled, letting you drag him by the arm to a wall of the nearest building and away from the crowd. “You alrigh’?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.” You waved to someone passing by, totally unfazed – or maybe just ignorant – that you were being seen with him in public. “I just need your help.”

“Well, what is it?” he repeated the question and finally, you turned to face him. Joel couldn't help but match the pretty smile on your face, but it quickly faded when you blurted out your next words.

“I like someone.”

That short, simple sentence wrecked Joel’s world by the foundations. For a couple of seconds he just stared at you with his mouth slightly agape while you fidgeted with your hands nervously, but still overjoyed.

“Wh– uhh, sorry?”

“I like someone,” you repeated excitedly, as if your words weren't piercing right through Joel's heart. “And I need your help.”

All of the sudden, the world lost all its colors, as if all the meaning was sucked out of the universe just by your words.

Why it was such a surprise to him, Joel didn't know. Of course you'd sooner or later get together with someone. He should have expected it. You were young, pretty and such a joy to be around, people were gravitating towards you instinctively. Like moths to a flame.

Just like him – yet he was always destined to only get burned.

“Joel?”

You leaned closer and Joel's eyes instinctively focused on your lower lip worried between your teeth.  You were obviously oblivious to his feelings, as well as the effect you had on him – otherwise he doubted you'd tempt him like that, unknowingly making his mind fixate on how perfect your lips would have felt under his touch.

But no, it wasn't his caresses you wanted. There was someone else, someone far more deserving of you, and you were asking Joel only for his help. And though it hurt him – it killed him to lose this small sliver of affection you had been giving him so far – he nodded supportingly.

“Wha… what do you need help with, sweet girl?” he asked softly, trying not to show how devastated he felt inside. Joel had no desire to hear about whoever was fortunate enough to gain your favor, but again, luck wasn't on his side.

“I made a plan to meet him,” you explained enthusiastically, grabbing his forearm. Joel looked at where your fingers touched his skin, barely listening to your words. “Tonight. And I need you to come with me.”

That woke him up from his reverie. Joel huffed and shook his head sharply, looking at you like you were out of your mind.

“No.” His tone was almost biting, but through his firm refusal, a trace of panic was slipping through. You pouted, squeezing his forearm lightly.

“Oh, come on, please? I just want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

“No,” Joel repeated, much weaker this time. “Hell no. Why would I–” Then, a dark thought bloomed in his mind and his face turned concerned. “You're worried he'd do somethin’ to you?”

“Oh, no, no!” It was your turn to shake your head, and you actually cracked a smile at Joel's worried tone. “No, he'd never hurt me.”

Your voice got softer; your smile turned serene. Joel wanted nothing more than to turn away when your eyes started to wander across his features, but again that proved to be too herculean of a task compared to the hold you had over him.

“He's kind,” you continued absentmindedly, and on the edge of consciousness Joel remembered your hand was still on his arm, tracing small lines with your thumb. “Respectful and thoughtful… A real gentleman.”

“A-and who’s he?” Joel found the courage to ask, breaking you out of your daydreams. You smiled happily again – that damned, sweet smile of yours – and removed your hand. He immediately started missing the feeling of your touch.

“You'll see.” You looked over your shoulder when someone shouted your name a street away, and waved from the distance. You gave Joel one last pleading look, clasping your hands together. “Come to the Tipsy Bison at 9. Please? You can just sit in the corner but I'll feel so much better and safer with you there.”

Once Joel looked into your beautiful, pleading eyes, he was a goner. He never could deny you anything either way.

Even when he would kill for a chance to go on a real date with you.

“Okay,” he finally caved in. “Alrigh’. I'll be there.”

The overjoyed smile you gave him was almost enough to soothe the hollow pain in his chest.

Almost.

Great. Fucking great.

Joel made another turn around the street, trying to build up the courage to approach Tipsy Bison. The flannel shirt he wore was itching uncomfortably, but he was already half an hour late and there was no time to go back home and change.

He regretted ever setting foot in Jackson. It was a nightmare situation for him, having to spend the evening in a room full of loud, drunk people and watch as you go about your date with another man. Joel thought a dozen times about making up some excuse as to why he can't chaperone your date after all. He even went as far as to beg Tommy to accompany him, just that he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, but his younger brother just gave him a pitying look, saying something about spending time with Maria tonight. Joel could always cancel, lie that he can’t make it after all… but then he remembered how hopeful and thankful you looked, and all his resolve was wavering again. He couldn't ever say no to you, even though he desperately wanted to.

He looked at his broken watch, sighing at the hour. He delayed the inevitable long enough, so with heavy steps he approached the bar at last. You asked him to go through the back door, for whatever reason, and he was too tired at the time to point out there’s nothing back there except for the kitchen and storage rooms. Whatever. You probably were already in the main hall, with your date, and either you were angry at Joel for being late, or not thinking about him at all. He wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

Once he stepped over the threshold, he carefully closed the door behind him. The racket from the bar was muffled here, but from the nearest room he could hear someone muttering. Joel swallowed heavily and cleared his throat to alert whoever was on the other side of the wall.

“Joel?” he heard your voice before you appeared in the doorway. At the sight of him your shoulders dropped and with confusion he noted that you didn’t look angry or disappointed – you seemed relieved. “Goddammit, finally you’re here. You took your sweet time, huh?”

Before he could answer, you walked forward and took his sleeve, half-dragging him behind you. Words of protest bubbled on his tongue, but they all died quickly when Joel saw the room you emerged from.

The storage shelves were decorated with fairy lights and in the middle of the room stood a small table with two chairs opposite each other. The only other source of light were a couple of candles on the table and around the room. There was food on the table – probably cold by now – and a bottle of wine. But most importantly – there was no one else in the room except for Joel and you.

While he was looking around like an absolute fool, searching for an explanation for this situation, you cautiously closed the door and walked around the man, coming to a stop by the set table with your hands clasped in front of you.

“...Well?” you asked after an uncomfortably long silence, letting out a nervous laugh. “What do you think?”

Joel blinked, not sure if you were talking to him.

“Where's the guy?”

You threw him a confused look, but truly, it was the only thing Joel could think of. He glanced around the room again, as if his mysterious competition was going to jump up from behind one of the shelves, but there was no trace of anyone else here.

“Your… your date,” he clarified after a moment and cleared his throat once more. A spark of understanding flashed in your eyes and you pressed your lips together. “It's late. Is he… He didn't set you up, did he?”

“That depends,” you finally answered softly, keeping your wary but hopeful eyes on him. “Are you finally gonna sit down?”

A cog clicked into its place in Joel's mind and he turned his head, not sure if he had heard you right. You smiled nervously and motioned to the table.

“The food’s probably cold by now, but I can heat it up. It’s your own fault, though, since I asked you to be here forty minutes ago–”

“I don’t…”

He didn’t understand. Nothing made sense, but he had to make sure, “So there’s no… there’s no date?”

You were clearly nervous, judging by the way you were fidgeting with your hands, but you sent him a shy smile nonetheless. “I mean, you’re here…”

Joel didn’t answer – frankly, he didn’t know what to say. So many conflicted emotions were swirling in his chest, blocking his throat from squeezing out even a sound. It created almost a physical pain between his ribs, especially when your eyes were still on him, so hopeful and patient.

After another pregnant pause, you let out a quiet breath and took a step forward, throwing him a lifeline since he clearly must’ve looked like an idiot. “There’s no one else coming, if that’s what you’re asking. I made all of this for you – for… us, maybe. I just…” You half-shrugged, and only now Joel realized how nice you looked, wearing a dress he never before saw you in, “didn’t know how to tell you.”

Joel swept his gaze over the room once more – the dinner, the lights, your pretty dress… and you. And it was all for him, apparently.

“Why?” he breathed, the weight of his age almost making him collapse to his knees. He desperately wanted to say something more profound than one word at the time, but his voice was failing him. Thankfully, you were always kind enough to fill in the silence.

“Why did I lie to you or why did I drag you here of all places?” You rounded the table, eyeing the decorations with a proud smile. “Well–”

“No, darlin’, why…” He shook his head. Everything felt too unreal, too sudden. And he felt so tired. “Why me?”

That made you pause and you turned to him with a surprised look, like what he just said was the last thing you expected to hear.

“What do you mean, why you?” you huffed incredulously, leaning forward against the back of the chair, and though you tried to look casual, the nervousness in the tension of your body was apparent. “You’re just… I mean, it must be pretty clear that I really like you… And I thought you might have felt the same. You know, with all the ‘darling’s’ and looking at me, and stuff…”

Was it a dream? You always looked like you were out of a dream, but something about this moment… the fairy lights, your shy demeanor, the words he never thought he’d hear from you… Joel didn't know if he was still alive or maybe that's what the afterlife looked like.

“...You could say something,” you half-joked with a trace of worry in your voice, obviously growing uncomfortable at his lack of reaction. “You know, Tommy only let me have this place ‘til midnight before they come by to restock the bar. We can at least eat and talk a little, right?”

“Did Tommy put you up to this?” Joel asked bitterly, unable to stop himself at the mention of his brother’s name. He recalled the look Tommy gave him earlier today, his excuses as to why he can’t come with him... What other explanation could there be for such a gorgeous, young woman to be interested in Joel of all people, if it wasn’t just a product of his kin’s poor humor? However, he instantly regretted asking you this when your soft smile disappeared altogether, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“You can just say if you don’t feel the same way,” you said dryly with an angry and hurt furrow on your brow. “No need to be a dick about it.”

You walked by him, apparently done with Joel’s accusations and grumpiness, but he quickly caught your arm before he could think better of it. You spun around, probably ready to tear into him, but he wouldn't hear a word either way – no while a vortex of doubts and questions raged in his mind. Joel didn’t know how or why you’d ever take interest in an old man like him, but he was now certain of two things.

One, you were telling the truth. For whatever reason, you really liked him – enough to plan and prepare a whole dinner date just for him.

And two, if Joel let you walk out now, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

You must’ve noticed the change on his face when his eyes flickered to your lips because you froze, the words of hurt and disappointment drying out on your tongue. Joel swallowed and wet his lips, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret on your face, but there was nothing in your eyes but pure, fragile anticipation. He delicately put his hand on the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing your cheek slowly. Your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let out a shaky breath, and that was all it took for Joel to lean down and press his lips to yours.

The kiss started delicate, but almost immediately turned into a fervent, hungry thing, which you ardently reciprocated. Joel wanted to take his time, to test the waters and build up the anticipation until you were ready to beg for him, but he didn’t expect just how fucking good kissing you would feel – and how eager you were for his touch. The smell of you, the feel of your hands on his chest and arms… it was driving him crazy with want, and without thinking twice, he spun you around and pinned your back against the edge of the table, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Goddammit, baby…” The term of endearment slipped out before he realized it, but judging by your reaction you didn’t mind at all. Your breath hitched, making him smirk to himself as he started to realize just how much power he held over you. It certainly shouldn’t excite him as much as it did. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want?”

“Joel, if you don’t stop questioning me…” you started, and although your words were firm, your voice leaned into a deliciously needy pitch, the kind of which he yearned to hear for far too long. Joel groaned into your mouth, moving down to press hot kisses against the line of your jaw and down your neck, greedily drinking in the noises you were making.

“Tell me, darlin’,” he asked in a low voice, experimentally running his palm up your thigh under the pretty dress you wore. The effect was immediate, and you pressed your body closer to him, seeking his touch the moment it left your skin. “I need to know if you really mean all this.”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel–” You made a surprised noise as he hoisted you up and onto the table, but it turned into another needy whimper when he knocked your knees apart and slotted himself between them with ease. You glanced behind you, worried that you'll push the silverware off the table, and Joel took this moment to resume the onslaught on your neck, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could reach. You choke back a moan as his touch made a shiver run up your spine. “Joel, please…”

“I need to hear it, sweetheart,” he murmured lowly against your skin, slowing down to tease you when he felt your heartbeat quicken up beneath his lips. “Need to make sure you know what you're gettin’ into.”

“I do, I promise,” you assured him fervently while your hands went to the back of his head, fingers tangling into his gray locks. “You have no idea how many times I thought about this. I wanted you for so long, Joel, please…”

“Wanted you, too, darlin’.” He put one of his hands on the small of your back, pulling your lower half closer to the edge of the table so you could feel what you were doing to him. “God, every time you smiled at me it was all I could think about… So kind and beautiful, never thought you'd look twice my way.”

You didn't bother to answer this time, instead angling his head up to kiss him deeply again. The doubt and fear were still present in Joel's mind, but he honestly couldn't focus on them with you in front of him. You were so warm under his palms, so pliant and eager, a literal putty in his steady hands. He could never imagine how incredible it felt to be wanted by someone so much, but at the same time he knew he had to take his time. As much as he wanted to keep going, to make you see stars and sing his name, it was more than just lust with you.

So when you reached for the buttons of his shirt, he gently grabbed your wrists and moved them away, finally regaining his self-control. You whined disapprovingly, but the crease between your brows quickly disappeared when Joel kissed your fingers softly, not taking his eyes off you.

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t rush,” he cood, earning a small disappointed pout. He had to close his eyes, lest he caved in. Fuck, the sight of you before him – your pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his ministrations, your heavy breath and the dress bunched around your hips… Joel was sure you’d let him do anything to you right now. And God, he couldn’t wait. “Let me do this properly, yeah? Have a nice date with you, then maybe take you home if you don’t change your mind…”

“We can skip the dinner,” you quietly offered, your breath still uneven and cheeks flushed. He huffed a laugh with fondness and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, his own breathing also slightly erratic.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured against your skin before taking your face in his hands. “Someone did say I’m a gentleman, no?”

You seemed to regret your previous choice of words, accentuating it with a disappointed whimper and a buck of your hips. Joel groaned and kissed you deeply again, almost able to taste all the impatience and desire on your tongue. Surprisingly, you didn’t fight him further and instead obediently slid off the table, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

Joel was grateful for this moment of calm before even more excitement – and he didn’t mind spending it by watching you, standing so close and smiling up at him as brightly as the sun itself.

“You believe me now?” you asked teasingly, stifling your giggles when Joel rolled his eyes playfully. “Good. You will have to make it up to me, then.”

Worry crept back onto Joel’s face, but you were quick to calm him down with a tender kiss to his jaw, and then another one lower, on his pulse point. “You were late. If you got here on time, we could’ve been doing this at least half an hour longer.”

Joel chuckled and lifted your chin with his finger, before kissing you briefly one last time.

“Baby, let’s enjoy the dinner you prepared, first. After that, I swear I’ll make it up to you in however many ways you want.”

Judging by your smile, you didn’t seem to mind at all.

[sunskisser]

bucky barnes who doesn’t trust unless it comes to you. whose eyes soften at the sight of you, because his heart knows that it’s okay to let his guard down. he believed the world always had its claws out to get him, until he fell straight into your gentle arms. he tells you the word love meant nothing to him until you came along.

bucky barnes who would live for you. the winter soldier would kill for anyone, the white wolf would die for anyone, but bucky would live for you. he’s never believed in fate, but if it wasn't destiny that brought you to him, he doesn’t know what it was. he thinks maybe it was all worth it, the trauma and the scars and the pain, if it all lead up to the moment when you told him i love you.

bucky barnes who searches for you even in nightmares, screams your name till his lungs burn with self-hatred. you’re his safe space, his home. he’s drawn back to wakefulness as soon as he feels your touch, the gentleness of your breath on his skin like an aching balm to his wounds. he’ll never stop apologising for the burden that comes with his affection, yet he won’t ever stop loving you.

bucky barnes who thinks of hurting you as no less than a sin. who believes even pulling out a single strand of your hair is a hundred times worse than every murder committed as the winter soldier. because what’s a few dozen people in comparison to his whole universe?

bucky barnes who wakes up a little earlier in the morning; not to see the sun rise, but to watch the soft rays dapple your face. he thinks you look angelic, the golden hue painting you in so much beauty that he feels blessed; wonders if he ought to start praying to gods he never once believed in.

bucky barnes who tells you he loves you more times than he can count. whose voice is hardened from years of tortured, ragged cries; but the word doll tumbles out of his lips like soft petals when he looks at you. he knows seven different tongues, and is fluent in every single one. he claims that none of them have the words to describe how you make him feel.

bucky barnes who kisses like a hungry dog, like there’s an ache in his soul that can only be filled by the feeling of your lips on his, skin to skin. he believes the sole purpose of his metal arm is to pin you to the wall. roughness is the only form of love he’s ever known.

bucky barnes who buys you everything you talk about in passing, who takes you out wherever your heart yearns to go, who kisses your knuckles with the softest touch of his lips. he inhales when you exhale at night to make space for the rise of your chest. he only ever holds your hand with his non-metal one so as to not hurt you. he traces your features while you sleep. he loves you with the full force of the word, because you’re his girl.

bucky barnes who could never unlove you, would never want to. even if the strings of his soul were tied to another, he would cut them off and run straight to you.

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[neteyawne]

Toruk Makto's son, Neteyam Sully, is your secret lover...!

Neteyam—your dear boyfriend, has been staring at you all night.

It's another nightly celebration amongst the Na'vi, and the clan is gathered around various fires lit as family and friends tell each other stories and tales.

Neteyam was your secret boyfriend.

As the son of your infamous clan leader, he was expected to be perfect. Stay absolutely in line and make no mistakes. He had no time for distractions.

But for you, he made an exception.

And he couldn't be happier. Yes, stealing glances at you and sneaking away with your smiling face is worth it all. The thrill and happiness he feels with you will forever remain unmatched. It was like his heart was finally living. The dull thump inside now a lively drum that beats to the sound of your soul.

"Neteyam."

He pulls away from the kiss breathless, his braids tossed over his shoulder and a smile in his eyes as he looked at you. He loved it when you said his name like that—

"Hmm?"

He doesn't give you a chance to even try and respond, because he's pressing his lips all over your mouth and face as you squirm and squeal under him

"Neteyam—!"

He laughs, gently tugging you onto the green ground beneath him as you huff. He kisses your pouting lips before positioning you on his legs so you're comfortable.

"Yes. What is wrong?"

He's smiling softly even as his finger taps mindlessly against your hip, and you let out a quiet sigh—not wanting to speak the words but knowing you had to.

"It's getting late. Your family will notice you're gone." You scold lightly, gently tracing the stripes on his chest idly as he shifts under you with a rare grin that stretched over the entirety of his face

"So? They're all fine, I am not needed right now. I will explain later—"

"What? That you were busy with me?" You say, pinching your brows with a sigh as he laughs. You didn't want Neteyam to get in trouble, but he could be so stubborn sometimes.

He's quiet after a bit, and you realize he's in deep thought when he stares off into the trees, tilting his head up towards the darkening sky before he turns to you

"I... I'd just like to stay here with you for a while longer. Is that okay?"

Your heart melts at the sight of his hopeful smile.

"And you think I want to leave you?" You murmur against his lips as he grins, cradling the back of your head in the palm of his hand as he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead

"No."

You're leaning back onto his chest after a while, watching the sun's rays twinkle out of sight as the stars rise—the night comes slowly but surely, and there isn't a single other soul in the world Neteyam would watch the moon with rather than you.

[morganalatina21]

Too Sweet - OP81

When Lando tries to play matchmaker with his two friends, the negative response comes from someone he did not imagine

or

When Oscar wants to prove you wrong

warnings: English isn't my first language, not proofread, mentions of alcohol and weed, smut, unprotected sex, car sex. Smut have warning before it starts and after it ends! - MDNI!!!!

word count: around 2k

"What do you mean 'no'?" Lando looked at you as if you grown a second head. "Don't play nonchalant about this, that's his thing. I've heard you ramble about him before."

"Yep." You agreed, sipping your drink.

"So why the fuck not?" He crossed his arms. "You'd be bloody great together."

"Do you really think that, muppet?" You bit back, eyes still lifeless staring back at him. Lando nodded. "You don't understand man. I like him? Yes. Very much. So much is inebriating." You confessed, looking almost... tired?

"But I've come to the terms that we would never work." Your shoulders moved up and down. "We are so fucking different Lan, and you know that. He's like, kind and a ray of sunshine. I'm a mess, you should know this, I'm friends with you, that's telling."

"I'm gonna ignore this outrage statement because I'm on a bigger mission here." He continued, knowing you were deviating the conversation. "The fuck is that coming from?"

"When you like someone that much, you star to try and match your stuff with them." You shrugged, adjusting your hair on the mirror. "And as much as I want to, we just- don't. That's like you said, he is nonchalant, I'm way too chalant. He is so sweet, Im bitter. He is all composed and... I dunno... Like those fitness influencers who have insane wellness routines? You know. And I'm the entire opposite. He's sweet as a grape."

"Are you quoting Hozier's Too Sweet at me right now?" His green eyes looked at you in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

"Kinda."

"Okay I know you may be having doubts, but why not try? It's better than not try, right?"

"Okay now you're just quoting The Good Place at me." You mocked, hearing people bang on the door to the bathroom. "But you know that I'm way too down bad for him to just try and go along with it. I'm usually cool with this kinds of stuff, but... I know I'll just be delusional and want more with him."

"So make us both a favor and drop it, because I don't wanna have my heart broken, and you don't wanna hear me whining about it, sir Norris."

Oscar's eyes were trained on you the moment you left the bathroom with Lando at his house party. You and Lando knew each other since kids, and it was very obvious to everyone in that house, including him, that nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

You noticed his glance and just offered him a small smile before turning and starting a conversation with Max Fewtrell, yours and Lando's best friend.

"Thought you said that'd work." He commented when Lando came up to him. "I really shouldn't trust your matchmaking skills, remember the redhead you tried to hook me up with in Vegas?"

"Hey, she was hot! And liked koalas."

"She liked spiders."

"You grew up with both, mate, whatever." Oscar shooked his head with a smile on his face. "And she wants you, she's just worried you might not want her."

"What?"

"She didn't believe when I said you were down to meet her. She thinks I'm setting her up with someone who does not want her."

"Why would she think that? You did that before?"

"Not the case right now. She thinks that because she basically doesn't think she's good enough for you."

The softest "what" came out of Piastri's lips.

"Yeah, she even quoted Hozier at me."

"I... don't know what that means."

Later that day, when he was in bed, smeling a bit like alcohol and feeling his body light from the drinking, Lando's words came back to him. He was waiting to sober up more, although he was probably the most sober out of everyone in that party, including you, who at some point started trying to teach Pietra how to creepwalk, to which, you failed.

He kept watching you that night, from some distance, of course, to try and understand what you meant to Lando when you said "too different".

And to be honest, he kinda got that.

You weren't necessarily and extrovert, at least with those you didn't know, but with your friends, wow were you outgoing.

You and Max were doing shots at random moments of the night, a bet to see who would fall first. You'd drink whataver he drank, and he'd drink whatever you drank.

He smoked some weed, so you did too.

You took jello shots made purely out of the cheapest vodka you could find, so he did too.

Lando and Pietra were trying to keep up with the two of you, but it was in vain. You two were on fire.

And to be honest, Oscar liked that.

You probably didn't see it, but you were both bold, only on different aspects of life.

And he wanted to show you that.

So, phone in hand, he texted Lando, who was already on his own room, probably with some fling of his. The party had died down and only a few people were left, including you, who were downstairs probably playing truth or dare or never have I ever with the other survivors of the night, and him, who was in a guest room.

[What did u meant when you mentioned Hozier earlier?] seen 2:38a.m.

[she quoted his song to me]

[too sweet, look it up im busy] seen 2:40a.m.

[At least tell me the name of the song so i can search it, man] 2:40a.m.

[are youo actually stupid? the name of the song is TOO SWEET, im not compliemnting you mate.] seen 2:40a.m.

[i knew that] seen 2:41a.m.

[sure you did] seen 2:41 a.m.

Spotify open. He typed down those two words and sure enough, a song by an Irish man popped up. The beat was kinda animated, and he didn't though to bother searching up the internet to see what other thought of that song.

He took his own conclusion.

"If you can sit in a barrell, maybe I'll wait". In his slightly disturbed mind, that meant he still had a shot. He just needed to prove you two weren't so different.

And while drunk, he took an oath to do that.

.

For the 2024 season, Lando had hired you as his personal counselor, which was just an excuse for you to travel around the world with him.

The reason why? Oscar didn't knew, but he wasn't complaining.

That meant seeing you around the paddock a lot, even til the highest hours of the night after each race, post-debriefs and everything.

Today was one of those days.

It was after a session of FP1 and FP2 of the US Grand Prix, and the post-practice debrief had just ended, people moving around and starting to leave.

Oscar gathered his stuff and was ready to walk to his own car and leave.

That's when he spotted you.

On one of the halls from the McLaren hospitality, walking around in a jacket he did not recognize as any of the teams merch.

"Are you switching scuderias?" He asked, nodding the jacket direction, startling you.

You looked down, almost forgetting which clothes you were wearing. "Oh that's just from the next NASCAR winning team."

"You like NASCAR?"

"I was very frustrated when I realized Cars was about NASCAR and not F1, I might switch motorsports." You smiled.

"Good luck cheering for Joe Gibbs."

"Oh which one do you choose? Spire?"

"No, never. 23XI is way better."

You rolled your eyes at his statement, a small smile still on your lips, a huge one on his.

"I'll laugh to your face when Denny Hamlin ends Riley on track next cup, Piastri."

"It's on, Y/ln."

Two days later, after the Grand Prix, Oscar dropped the bomb on the interview.

"... Maybe we should just adopt NASCAR rules and end things on track." A knowing smile on his lips, looking at the camera.

He wanted you to know. He made sure of it, it wasn't just some comment, there was more.

"Mate, NASCAR rules? Are you insane?" Lando asked later, watching you perk up at that mention.

Oscar smiled and watched you, barely giving his teammate any recognition. You searched the internet, the key words you never thought would be put together: "Oscar Piastri + NASCAR".

And sure enough, there it was, the interview.

You looked up at him, slightly flabbergasted and changed your expression to a smile.

And God, did he love that smile.

.

"Disrespectfully, Fuck Papaya Rules."

Oscar phisically perked up when he heard that. He was strolling around the paddock and caught you talking with reserve McLaren driver, Pato O'Ward.

"Not only that's dumb, but honestly, fuck-ass name for a strategy."

He chuckled at that, hearing you from around the corner.

"Honestly I don't know if I'd follow that if I ever fill in for any of them." Pato admitted, shrugging. "I understand when it's for the Constructors Championship but Drivers? Fuck that."

"My favorite moment so far is when Oscar cut him right on the beginning, it was kind of a 'fuck your championship' moment, I live for that."

"Lando's gonna fire you if he hears you say that." Pato laughed. "Remember when you hit him because he didn't spray Oscar on the Hungary podium?"

"And I'd do it again."

"You hit Lando to defend me?" Oscar asked later that day, on the parking lot, as you were waiting for your friend.

You looked up at him and his smug smile.

That actually caught you unexpected. Oscar was coy, you knew that, but he was getting progressively bolder and more challenging.

It messed with your brain.

"You eavesdropping?"

"I just like to hear when people talk about me." He admitted. "Don't you?"

"No. I hate knowing what people think of me."

Oscar chuckled. That was kind of perfect, because he wasn't good with words.

"I promise I won't tell you what I think of you if I can give you a ride back to the hotel."

That was the main difference between you and Oscar: you were provocative, alluring, liked to get under people's skin, while he was straightforward, deadpan and liked to see people's reaction to brutal honesty.

"Sure."

.

It was the last race of a triple header, Brasil.

Five DNFs, the race and the quali delayed so many times, it was exhausting. Oscar finished P8, which, yes, was a bad position, but he was glad he at least finished the race, unlike five other drivers.

He was so tired, and it showed on his face.

No one even dared ask him or Lando how they were feeling because it was obvious, so he pratically slipped away from the mechanics and engineers.

And he found you. Sitting on the floor, back to the wall that separated his and Lando's driver room, texting rapidly.

He wanted so bad to have you to him, to talk to you before media duties, to have you on his driver room alone. But he and Lando weren't exactly on the best terms, so he couldn't just snatch away his friend.

Or couldn't he?

"Lando's gonna be late." He said, snatching your attention immediately. "If you want to come in."

"Yeah, in a sec." You went back to typing right away.

"You texting someone?" You nodded but answered back:

"Since when do you care?"

"I don't know, I just want your attention." There it was again, the honesty. "I mean, the person you might be texting can be cool and all but, do they drive at 300km/h for McLaren?"

You stopped, looking up at him, almost not believing those words actually came out of his mouth.

"He doesn't..." He smiled. "He actually drives for Mercedes and is a 7 time world champion."

"You're texting Lewis?" Oscar asked softly, smile vanishing. "Isn't he too old for you?"

"First of all, Lewis Hamilton could never be 'too old'. And second, It's not like you're thinking." You pushed yourself up, entering his room. "I'm just congratulating him on the Senna homage and asking what he wants to get me tickets for the next Kendrick Lamar concert."

"I don't know how many times I can offer to babysit Roscoe."

Oscar closed the door behind him, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He launched himself on the nearest armchair he could find and groaned, feeling his body ache, trying to stop the shakes on his body from being wet with the cold wind.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, voice dripping with concern.

"Yeah. My back's killing me, and I think I'm going to have a cold."

"Take a hot shower, I'll grab you some medicine." She instantly put the phone down, marching towards the door, but was interrupted when Oscar held her wrist.

"Stay." The word came out murmured, a gentle plea, his eyes closed. "Please."

It was weird seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so desirous, it made your heart fumble when he opened those soft brown eyes. So you nodded.

"But you're gonna lie down and get warm. I don't want you sick."

He obliged, draggin himself -and you on the processes, because he couldn't let go of you- towards the improvised bed he had on his driver room.

"But what if-" Oscar began, starting to lie down. "I get sick so I can escape from the media duties?"

"Can you do that?"

"It's worth a shot."

You smiled, pulling a chair to be close to him still, to which he thanked with a smile.

Surely after, Oscar fell asleep. You know it wasn't ideal, but you stood by and watched him peacfully sleeping. He was so soft, so cat-like, so pretty.

Your heart ached with how much you liked him.

And maybe, even though he didn't knew, he was showing you how you two could be a match.

When he woke up, half an hour later, you weren't there already, but he found the medicine you said he needed with a small note that said "You snore like a cat purrs (take care), Y/n."

He smiled ear to ear, almost all of the fatigue gone. He folded the note and tucked it in one of the pockets of his bag, leaving to the unfortunate meeting with the media.

Later that day, as Y/n was getting to her hotel room when she noticed something hanging from the doorknob.

It was a keychain in the shape of a cat, with a small note that read "To remember me".

Y/n rolled her eyes, but with a small smile on her face, that turned into a shock expression the moment she saw the things attached to it: two tickets for the Kendrick Lamar concert.

"Oscar Jack Piastri, you little devil."

.

"How was the concert?" Oscar asked, a knowing smile on his lips.

Y/n smiled widely. It has been a couple of months since Oscar Piastri started pursuing you; you ended up knowing what he was up to when Lando commented that he was determined.

And dear God, he was.

And it moved you.

You don't remember ever someone putting this much effort for you. That alone, warranted some points on his advantage.

"It was good, I actually ended up meeting Snoop Dogg also and we talked a lot about West Side." You rambled, watching his eyes get lost, trying to search his brain for any information about any of the words you just said. "I'm just messing with you. It really meant a lot to me so, thank you."

"Anytime."

"You need a ride to the hotel?" He offered. "Think Lando's not going back any time soon."

You looked back to the door for the party, the music still so loud, lights flashing in different colors and you could almos feel the smell of alcohol even from this distance.

Usually, you'd be inside going crazy too, celebrating that the team you work for had finally won the Constructor's Championship after so many years not knowing what that feels like.

But you were tired. So you took Oscar's offer.

His car smelt new, even though he had this car for quite some time now, his cologne, a strong woody scent mixed with the fresh odor of the seats.

"So, how does it feel, huh?" You asked right after he started driving. "Constructor's champions."

"It's amazing." He answered, and you could feel the tiredness and happiness from his tone. "It's exactly that, a reward for all the hard work."

"Driver's championship next?"

"For me I hope so."

"Next season's gonna be amazing." You smiled, hiding the sadness. "I mean, five rookies on the grid, Hamilton at Ferrari, hopefully Max's downfall?"

"May God hear you, Y/n."

"This sport was missing some emotion." Oscar stared at you from the side of his eyes as you entered the highway, which was completely desert due to high hours of the night. "I mean, to you guys there's always emotion but that's because you're driving, to us just watching cars go around and no overtakes, no fun business is kinda boring."

A mischiveous glint shone on Oscar's eyes as he pushed the throttle pedal further and further with each word you said.

"Osc, what are you doing?"

"Just thought you'd like a piece of the emotion like we have." He opened the windows, a huge smile on.

The adrenaline rushed through your muscles, eyes blown wide as the velocity increased, starting to grip the seat as you laughed. Oscar was so normal about it he was even driving with only one hand on the wheel.

"Fuck it, Imma act like a dog."

Oscar laughed genuinely as you loosened the seatbelt and propped your head out of the window, the wind forcing your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could barely breathe but that was a whole part of the fun.

"Oh my God this is amazing!"

"Emotion enough for you?"

"God, how are you guys so normal after every race?" You asked, sitting back down, heart beating so fast inside your chest. "I'd feel like I'm on the top of the world, honestly."

The song on the radio pushed your pulse to quicken even more. You opted for keeping your head inside to talk to Oscar, but one hand was out, dancing with the wind.

"God, I'm gonna miss this."

"What?!"

Shit.

He wasn't supposed to hear that, not yet.

You sighed, putting a hand on high thigh, feeling him tense up. "You can slow down now." He did, eyes constantly darting back to your hand, touching him. "The reason I was flying around with Lando and the team was because he wanted to give me new opportunities. And I got one in Italy, as a fashion designer. This is my last night working for McLaren."

Oscar couldn't believe what he was hearing, all his effort, all that he was dreaming for, to have you by his side every race just like this season but this time, as his partner.

He kind of thanked you for telling him to slow down, because his head was spinning.

"Italy is close to Monaco, no?"

"It's in Milan, a three hour drive." You answered, lightly caressing his thigh. "Lando already knew of that possibility, no one was supposed to get attached to me. I'm sorry, Osc."

He parked the car in front of the hotel, both hands now on the wheel as he was trying to calm down and grasp the reality of everything going on.

You were leaving.

He felt your hand lifting up from his pants and immediately grabbed it.

"I'm not giving you up."

"Osc-" "No."

"I didn't come this far just to lose you, not now."

"You're not losing me." He looked at you. "I'll just- I'll be in the country next door." You smiled tightly. "But it's okay if you don't want someone who can't accompany you, I get it."

"You'd wait for me?"

"What?"

Oscar blinked, his grip on your hand tightening, eyes intense as if he was begging.

"Wait for me, to be back from the races, wait for the breaks?"

"Osc that's thing long relationships go through, we don't know if it'd work and-"

He held your face. Gently, sweet, almost too sweet.

"We have until March. I want to try. I could never ask you to give up on something you want so bad, so that's why I'm asking you to not give up on us."

Us. That knocked all the air from your lungs.

"I can see it in your face. You want this just as badly as I do." Oscar's voice was low, sending shivers down your spine with the way he talked. "I already showed you how much of a match we can be, let me show you we can make this work."

You shouldn't, you really really shouldn't. If it all went south you didn't know if you could recover from him.

But it was hard to think when he was this close.

So you made a decision.

Even if it slipped away, it'd have claw marks from you. You were ready to try and keep him in your life with all your strength.

So you launched yourself forward, capturing his lips.

SMUT AHEAD - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

His kiss was desperate, hands full on launching themselves at your body and holding you tight, as if you'd start to slip away right this moment.

"Osc! On the car?" You laughed, breaking the kiss, to which he immediately bent his head down to kiss your neck.

"Just this once." He was almost begging, trying to get you free from the seatbelt and into his lap. "I've wanted you for so long, love, please."

Too sweet? No, just the right amount.

You clicked your seatbelt and pushed it away, hopping onto his seat, back meeting the steering wheel, chest to chest, knees barely on the seat from how big his legs were.

The impression was that Oscar was ravenous, like a hungry man, devouring every inch of your skin he could, levaing behind a trace of his saliva and maybe some hickies, but neither of you cared.

His breathing was uneven, hands roaming your body like it was the curves of a circuit he needed to remember and dominate.

"Osc-" You hummed, feeling his hard-on pressing against you, dry humping it, pulling moans from both of you. "Fuck!"

"Didn't peg you as a tits guy." You laughed upon noticing both his hands lodged around your boobs, guiding you through them to ride his erection.

"I'm a Y/n guy, everything about you drives me insane." He confessed, moving his right hand to your ass, moving your body around his lap, feeling your thighs shake against his hips. "Love, please."

Your hands traveled down his chest, nails grazing his skin on top of the formal suit he had on. He looked like a prince, even though he was ready to fuck you like a soldier. Finally, your hands worked fast to take his belt off and open his pants.

His cock, finally freed from his underwear, was so hard already and leaking with pre-cum. You smeared it around as started playing with his tip, feeling his hips buck upwards.

You were looking at his face atently, seeing his expressions falter at your touch.

Oscar's eyes found your and they were dark like never before.

"You're such a fucking tease." He complained, stirring around, trying to feel more of your touch.

"Someone has to take the lead, huh?"

A spark flew past his eyes, hand moving up and grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking it harshly.

"Osc!" You whined, head thrown back as his grip didn't loosen even slightly, sending a heat wave down your body, allodging itself in your pulsating core.

"Someone has to take the lead, right love?" He snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he watched you shake. "Enough with the teasing, pull your panties to the side and sink on my dick."

Fumbling with your hands, you found the slit of your dress and tucked your hand inside, founding the laced fabric that was already drenched, pulling it to the side.

Oscar helped you lodge on top of him, lining up your entrance and his lenght, one hand still holding you tightly by the hair and the other moving your ass around.

"Fuck, love!" He moaned as you started sitting on him, caressing your head, making you shiver and tighten even more. "When you feel it all inside you, you can take the lead back, m'kay?"

Your lips met each other's, drinking the moans away.

The further you sank on him, the more he sank on the driver's seat, feeling all the tension leave his body, finally feeling your insides.

Fully inside, he let go of your hair as he promised and allodged both hands on your hips, gripping you bot not forcing you to move.

"Think you're gonna last?" You asked, opening the buttons to his shirt, positioning both hans on each side of his chest.

He opened his eyes, the dark hungry was still there, much softer now, he looked drunk and so languidly happy. "We can leave the torture for the next times, can't we love?"

You wanted to tease him, and say maybe, that now the lead was back to your hands, you were going to make him last painfully, but you felt the tight knot on your low womb, and knew even you weren't going to last.

"Okay, Osc."

And you started to ride him, watching him give in and just become a moaning mess, still holding tight to your waist but completely gone.

"Fuck, love, you're- you're too good!"

You also didn't thought Oscar was going to be so talkative during sex, given his nonchalant ways, but when given pleasure he turned into a bubbling mess, talking nonsense.

"So good, so worth the wait." He mumbled, pulling you closer and moaning in your lips as you two kissed again. "You ride me so well." He kept going, as you started kissing his neck, wanting to hear more. "Don't stop, please don't stop, love."

His hands restored to gripping your waist and travelling up sometimes to carress your tits on top of your dress.

"You should be wearing less clothes, love, you're so pretty." He complained. "Are you close?"

"Mhmm."

"So am I. Cum with me, love." He groaned, voice too raw for his own good, messing around with your head. "Come on, baby." His hips started snapping up, meeting you halfway your ride.

A strained whine left your lips, hugging his shoulders and propping your head on your arms, launching your moans directly into his ear, pushing him further down his high.

"I'm- I'm gonna-"

Both your bodies started to shake and his big arms hugged you, pulling you closer, locking you in him as his cum spurted inside you, your knot finally snapping.

"You okay?" He asked a few moments later, feeling you go limp on top of him. "Still with me?"

"Shut it, Osc."

"Yeah, you're back."

You laughed, hugging him one last time before pulling up from him, immediately putting your panties back in place and returning to the passanger's seat as he zipped his pants back on.

He turned on the AC to clear the windows that became foggy from the heat irradiating from both of you.

You fixed your hair as much as you could, knowing it'd probably be ruined again when you went up to his hotel room. He offered you his blazer, to which you happily took and let it engulf you, hiding the hickied left on your neck.

He went around the car to open your door for you, helping you on your feet as he noticed your legs still shaking. He had that smug smile you got used to on the beggining of your flirting and it made you want to kiss him stupid.

"You think your plan of convincing me we're a match was 100% successfull?" You asked, crossing the hotel lobby still holding his arm, heading toward the elevator.

He leaned into you, voice just above a whisper, only for you to hear. "My cum is leaking out your pussy, you tell me."

You suffocated a smile, desperately pressing the button for the elevator.

SMUT ENDS HERE- WELCOME BACK!

.

"Okay so, I need to know." Lando asked, it was the day after the celebration, you were sharing a breakfast on the McLaren private jet with the rest of the crew.

You were sitting beside Oscar, Lando in front of you two, a little hungover but still curious.

"We're not telling you anything."

"You owe me this, I had to sit through one hour meeting with the pr team about not fucking in cars in the parking lot."

You choked a laugh, tecnically your contract with Lando was over, and you weren't a part of the McLaren anymore, so you got to sleep while Oscar and Lando had to be awake for a very stern lecture.

"Honestly, if you keep doing shit like this I'm gonna make you two pay for my therapy."

"Bill me, mate." Oscar snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he took one sip of a milk glass.

"Fuck you!" Lando answered immediately, shock written all over his face. "Honestly, I should've never put you two together."

"You didn't do shit." You retorted, throwing Lando even further down the insane hill.

He started to ramble about how he was the first matchmaker, how he handled you two talking about each other to him and it almost drove him insane, while you and Oscar just smiled.

You layed your head on Oscar's shoulder, sighing.

He was sweet, but never too sweet for you.

You breathed in his scent, a sharp woody masculine perfume that mixed perfectly with your sweet one. Exactly how you two were supposed to be, boldness in sweetness and sweetness in boldness, completing each other.

And whatever was going to happen to the both of you, you'd fight it, like he fought for you.

april 6th, 2025

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated! ♡

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ losing your virginity with bsf!rafe.

warnings — 18+. MDNI. reader losing virginity, lots & lots of praise.

cherie's note — this one needs a disclaimer i think; for the purpose of the work, i mentioned something along the lines of people who wait until after college being losers — i want to preface i do not think this way, but believe rafe and his best friend would definitely talk something like this. it's all make-believe!

you couldn't remember how the conversation had even started. maybe it was the ambiance — the television humming with that faint cool blue glow, whatever rafe had thrown on half-watched and long forgotten, a half-smoked blunt tutting between the two of you for the past couple of hours. somewhere along the way — you couldn't quite remember when — you'd let it slip.

you had never done anything. with anyone.

not that it was a big deal — it wasn't. but it was surprising, especially for rafe. the same rafe known for his reckless hookups and casually cruel behavior, who'd experienced it all years ago. he'd always assumed you had too, and never told him.

but as soon as you'd mumbled something about not wanting to be one of those losers who waited until after college to have any sort of sexual experience, the idea popped into his head like a fucking lightbulb — clear, bright, and impossible to ignore.

"what if i did it with you?"

maybe that's where it really started, actually.

his hands are warm and solid where they grip your hips, holding you steady as you straddle his lap, your thighs hovering just above him. your heart’s going too fast. your lip is caught between your teeth, eyes flicking between his and the space between you — like you’re still deciding, like you could still change your mind.

his gaze is darker than usual. blown pupils, flushed cheeks, mouth parted slightly as he stares up at you like he can’t quite believe this is real.

"we don't need to do this," he swallows, voice low and rough, like it's scraping its way up from his throat. his eyes drop to your lips. "you sure?"

you nod. maybe not totally sure, but sure enough. your stomach is tight with nerves, dread curling in your gut at the thought of the pressure, the sting — but when you look at him, the way he’s waiting for your word like it’s everything, it almost seems worth it.

“i—i wanna do this, ray,” you say quietly, and it’s the first time you’ve called him that in weeks.

his grip tightens on your hips. just a little.

“okay,” he whispers. “just breathe. go slow. i got you.”

you reach between the two of you, fingers trembling as you guide him to where you need him — tip nudging right where your body’s warm and ready and nervous. he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time, one hand sliding up your spine, the other still firm on your waist.

you lower yourself onto him slowly — a shaky inhale spilling from your lips as you feel him start to stretch you open, inch by inch. it’s not pain, not exactly — it’s pressure. overwhelming and unfamiliar and a lot.

“fuck,” he mutters, his head dropping back as he exhales through his nose. "nice and slow, pretty girl."

you squeeze your eyes shut. “is it supposed to feel like this?”

“you’re doing perfect,” he breathes, lifting his head again, blue eyes searching your expression. “you okay?”

you nod, jaw clenched.

“keep going,” you whisper. “please.”

he groans, low and guttural, as he helps guide you down the rest of the way, hips lifting just a little to meet yours. when you finally bottom out, your whole body goes still — breath caught in your throat, limbs trembling.

“there you go,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “you did it.”

you nod, blinking fast, and whisper, “feels so full.”

“yeah,” he huffs, brushing a kiss over your cheek. “we’ll go slow, promise. i won’t move until you tell me to.”

you don’t expect the way it makes your chest ache. how gentle he is. like you’re something fragile. like you matter.

like maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

you sit still for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness — his thick cock buried deep inside of you, twitching slightly with every shaky breath he takes. the feeling is foreign, but delicious. rafe doesn't move — wouldn't dare, not when there was so much trust on the line. his hands rub slow, absent circles into your skin, and his lips brush your collarbone like he's trying to ground you.

“you okay?” he asks again, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

you nod, slower this time. “just… weird. good weird.”

he smiles — barely there, but it softens something in his expression. “yeah. it’s gonna get better, promise.”

you take a breath, and then another, and then roll your hips — just the tiniest bit. the movement pulls a gasp from your lips, and a sharp inhale from him.

“jesus—” his eyes flutter shut, head tilting back against the headboard as he groans. “you feel so fuckin’ good.”

you do it again, a little more this time. your hands plant on his chest, finding your rhythm slowly — small, tentative rocks of your hips that make your thighs tremble and your head swim. it’s overwhelming and messy and nothing like what you imagined, but it’s him, and it feels right.

his grip shifts, one hand sliding to the small of your back to guide you gently, the other gripping your thigh tight like he’s holding back everything he wants to do.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your face, like he doesn’t wanna miss a single second. “you’re doing so fucking good.”

his praise goes straight to your stomach, makes the warmth there coil tighter. your brows knit together, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you rock into him a little harder — his cock dragging slow and thick against that sensitive spot inside you, making your breath hitch.

“r-rafe,” you whisper, voice shaking. “feels… better now.”

“yeah?” his hands tighten on your waist. “told you.”

he bucks up slightly, meeting your next roll with a soft thrust — not rough, not fast, but deep enough to make your body jerk and your nails dig into his chest.

you whimper, and that sound alone has him cursing again, jaw clenched like he’s barely keeping it together.

"feels good, huh?" he asks, calloused fingertips tickling the exposed skin of your hips. he presses a firm, lazy kiss against your jaw, his other hand interlocking with yours for an added bit of reassurance.

your hips move on instinct now, chasing the way he feels inside of you — deep and warm and so good it's making your head spin. every roll of your hips sends sparks through your stomach, that tightening coil getting hotter and hotter the longer you keep going.

rafe's gaze stays on you, watching you like he's never seen anything so pretty. hands firm on your waist, guiding you, steadying you.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, voice ragged, eyes flicking between your face and the spot where you're joined for the first time ever. "swear you were made for me."

your breath hitches, lashes fluttering as you grip his shoulders, trying to stay anchored through the pleasure that’s starting to take over.

“ray,” you gasp, soft and shaky. “it feels… i don’t know—i think i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby. just let go. i’ve got you.”

he lifts his hips just slightly, pushing up into you at that perfect angle — again and again, unhurried but deep, and it makes your thighs tremble. makes your back arch. makes your whole body light up from the inside out.

and then it hits.

your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. you cry out, clutching him tighter, hips stuttering as your body pulses around him — every nerve ending on fire.

“fuck,” he groans, holding you through it, hands gripping you like he never wants to let go. “breathe, baby… you’re doin’ so good. i’ve got you.”

you collapse against him, chest to chest, face tucked into his neck as you try to catch your breath. he strokes your back gently, rocking into you a few more times before you feel him still, his breath catching, hips pressing up tight to yours as he lets go with a soft, broken sound.

you’re both quiet after that.

just the rise and fall of your breathing, your bodies pressed together, hearts thudding out of sync.

you don’t say anything at first. you don’t need to.

his hand finds yours. fingers lacing.

and he kisses your temple like he means it.