#this was not why i turned my computer on and this is actually a terrible time to post a set

[feralsunflowerchild-deactivated]

.

[isadollie]

hello !! i saw your reqs for hcs and scenarios were open so i thought i'd send something in. can you do the OM brothers w/ an s/o who isn't really tech savvy? coming from someone who grew up surrounded by technology but absolutely sucks at it. thank you !! <3

obey me! brothers x bad at technology gn!s/o

a bit funny (or so i tried), pretty unserious sorry 😭

— Lucifer:

• this proud expression on his face

• gets all cocky

• secretly glad to be the one who teaches you all this

• would give you head pats probably,,,

• starts to explain with a gentle tone

• then diavolo calls for him and he gets annoyed cause his precious time with you has been disturbed

• helps diavolo as fast as he can and comes back to you

• he's like "okay, so... where did we leave off?"

• and then you say "oh no, it's okay, Levi already showed me everything when you were gone"

• and then Levi went missing

— Mammon:

• a wicked smile instantly forms on his face

• says you picked the right person to teach you (you picked the worst person to teach you)

• "Aww, don't worry, it's okay. The Great Mammon will teach you everything you have to know!"

• *some time later*

• "okay, so basically, this is the only app you need for now. the bank app. now look, here you type my name... yes, good. and now you type, hm.. let's say, 1000 grimm. perfect! and now you click 'send'! just like that! amazing!"

• "also forgot to mention, this is a very important operation for your phone. so you have to repeat this process twice a day, okay? make sure you type my name there or else it won't work"

• then he runs away and prays you won't tell Lucifer about it

— Leviathan:

• will actually help you!!

• or at least he claims to do so

• 100% called you a normie but well, he does that all the time

• explains what he thinks is the most important

• and you think to yourself "oh, okay, cool, i get it!" and you're eager to learn more cause he's actually helping

• eventually it ends with him showing you where you can watch the whole hana ruri movie for free

• then wants to play games with you

• end of learning

— Satan:

• side eye

• "why would you want to learn such things anyway? the real knowledge comes from books"

• gives you like 10 different books to read, obviously none of them is related to the subject

• it ends up being a cute reading date

• in reality he's just too proud to admit that he's terrible at technology himself

• poor man just doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of you

— Asmodeus:

• will be so happy you asked for his help!

• in fact, you didn't ask, he offered it himself, but would tell everybody that you came to him first

• but forgive him for lying, cause he's actually helping

• he shows you the most important apps you should have on your phone, what do you when this or that is wrong with your computer, how to order at akuzon and ask for a refund and honestly everything you can think of

• is also pretty chill about it, seems like it brings him joy to share what he knows with you

• only disadvantage is, he will cling to you the whole time

• will hold your hand at all times and if you try and dodge his touches, he will stop talking unless you hold him back

— Beelzebub:

• doesn't really wanna help

• would prefer to take you out to a restaurant

• but you insisted

• so he agrees, cause he always agrees to whatever you say sooner or later

• takes your phone and downloads every possible food delivery app

• proud of himself

• but then he gets hungry (who would have thought)

• and tells you to order you two some food from your phone

• you do it and he's happy cause 1. he feels like he taught you things and 2. he'll get food

— Belphegor:

• alright, no problem

• at least that's what he says

• then it turns out there is a problem

• cause he doesn't know how to turn on the computer

• you said it's okay, you can try another time

• but he says no, he will figure it out in a minute

• more than a minute passed and he didn't figure it out

• you two gave up and just went to Levi's room

hope it's okay haha, it was pretty fun to write ngl

requests for scenarios/hcs always open!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Various CRPs x Reader who knew then before their incidents

Prize request 3/5 for @coldsushisworld ! I hope you enjoy!

Characters in this post: Jeff, Puppeteer, Eyeless Jack, Masky and Ben Drowned

Notes: Reader is GN! Some of these may be shorter or vaguer than others but that's simply because my brains is a little foggy on the details of things!

CW: Mentions of suicide in Puppeteers part, mentions of death and murder in.. well almost all the characters..!

MASKY

JEFF

Similar to Ben's part, you find out what happened. Your parents didnt tell you all of the details that happened the night Jeff went missing, and you'd later find out why when you got older. From the man himself, actually. I enjoy the idea that between the actual canon event of the source and my take hes mellow out.. just a bit, at least hes not going to take you down the second he gets the chance. It's been.. years, you thought he had died at some point actually. Hes loud and arrogant, but for one reason or another he trusts you. You havent turned him yet, and that's saying something. Sometimes things are just like how they were before; the two of you are joking with each other and sharing stories. You don't see him often due to him just.. dropping off and doing who knows what.. but he always comes back to you eventually

BEN DROWNED

You were both childhood friends. The day Ben died, you were told he had moved away. You didnt find out what happened until years later, when you started asking around. When fate brings you both back together everything feels. Wrong. Hes a ghost, and primarily confined to technology- currently hes worked himself into your computer, proving himself to still be the mischievous guy he was in life by subtly messing with your files.. but you grew up, and he didnt. Despite still being friends, there just wasn't enough for the two of you to relate to anymore. In a way it reminds me of Anohana (need to rewatch it but I recommend it). If Ben notices the rift he doesnt say anything

The terrible thing is that you dont know what happened to him. One day he was here and the next? Gone. On top of that, are you even aware that he doesnt seem to.. remember all that much about you? It's almost as if hes an entirely different person. Out of all the characters, your relationship with Masky needs to be rebuilt from the ground, simply because it didnt exactly exist before. You were friends with Tim, of course. To you, you're trying to jog his memory and do things you two have done before. To him, you look.. desperate. Overtime you do both grow closer but the relationship will never be like how it was before, and you're going to have to readjust to this new situation- though is that not the case with the rest of these characters?

EYELESS JACK

You had heard on the news what happened at his college. It looked like there was a massacre, and your friend was no where in sight. Even before Jack became eyeless, he was still.. closed off and reserved. However reunited with him he seems to have sunk deeper into that, even trying to get you out of his life again because of.. what was happening to him and what was changing. Your insistence almost breaks the both of you, but despite everything you manage to safely reenter his life. His new eating habits.. are something.. and that's assuming he even tells you.. he probably would, out of guilt for keeping it from you and just guilt in general for needing to conform to his new diet. It's very strained and tense for a long time in the beginning, even if you're the most open minded person. Jack's not going to let it be easy

PUPPETEER

You were.. friendly with each other before everything. But you weren't exactly all that close. Of course when you found about how he took his life, you felt horrible. But life goes on. You move on, and go on with your life plans... and you were doing good at that, before a figure appears in your room one night. Its terrifying, actually, and if it didnt start talking to you like you were an old school friend you would have tried to make a run for it. Maybe it was the shock that kept you in place? Of course, the figure was.. him.. he doesn't seem to recognize the name you knew him as, in fact you cant tell how much he actually remembers. He basically just invites himself to live with you, not all that bothered with the idea that you might not want that. Hes.. kind of a dick, actually, but hes charming enough for you to keep him around. Having conversations with him is interesting, as well. Hes usually respectful enough but theres some level of... sass.. that keeps you invested. Hes so much like how he was before, but also not. Hes still there but it's like hes been flipped on his head

[kenyuluvme]

chronic fuck-me eyes.

-> byr!! reader has hair that can be tucked behind her ears + she wears a skirt. nothing spicy happens, just exploring the idea of higuruma having fuck-me eyes/eye-fucking you lol. might make another part with actual smut let's see.

he wasn't aware of it. higuruma was barely attentive to anything aside from work-related affairs, so it wasn't hard to imagine that he was in fact incognizant of one of his most outstanding character, or rather physical, traits: his "fuck-me" eyes.

the same eyes that were indiscreetly ogling you from across the office you shared with him and shimizu.

you concentrated hard on not physically shrinking under his gaze (you already did mentally), but that was hardly feasible, what with the way in which he's been staring at you for the last few minutes. his large orbs that you happened to be fond of, half-lidded yet alarmingly keen, pored over every single part of you they could reach as if you were being undressed by him; and despite his mouth being covered by his balled up fist, you could swear you caught sight of him chewing on his bottom lip twice or thrice.

the long lashes that decorated his eyes fluttered slowly every now and then, adding on to the suffocatingly erotic aura that oozed out of him. the only thing that kept you somewhat distracted from his blatant eye-fucking was the clicking of your keyboard, which was the reason why you were pressing the keys with more vigour than the average person would.

you had to admit, you were doing a terrible job at not crumbling.

you lost count of the number of times you've momentarily let go of the keyboard to tuck a stray lock or two behind your ears, or the number of times you readjusted your skirt to see if that would make him look away, yet you'd be lying if you said the idea of your handsome boss shamelessly checking you out wasn't stroking your ego in ways unknown to man.

this was far from being the first time that higuruma has made you the target of his chronic fuck-me eyes. ever since your arrival in the firm, he's been eyeing you in this exact manner; a half-lidded, overtly sexual and intense stare. first time it happened was during your second week in the firm and you were trying to figure out the bizarrely vintage espresso machine they used, when, from your peripheral vision, you saw him leaning with his back against a window, sipping his bitter drink and plainly gazing at you through his lashes.

your lips had fell and you had awkwardly let out a "uhhh" before he moved from his spot, approaching you with a barely noticeable grin and a cool demeanour. "need help, new girl?," he said, his voice husky and low, and that combined with the label he gave you was more than enough to have you widen your eyes in slight frenzy.

ever since that fateful meeting, you've become more and more conscious of his habit of following you with his gaze and it was almost as if he liked to do it when you were alone in the same place as him.

you raised your eyes to read the time. 36 minutes left then you could clock out and scream into your pillow. yet, you didn't want to let him go without doing something in return, or at least showing him that you weren't all that unaware of what he's been doing.

not removing your eyes from your computer screen, you gently but firmly killed the silence, "is something the matter, higuruma? you've been staring at me for quite a few minutes now."

after finishing your words, you sharply turned your head to meet his gaze, and you were frankly taken aback by how he took what you said. he was no longer ogling you salaciously, and in the stead of that, he seemed...flustered?

"oh, my apologies, i was just lost in my thoughts. not professional for an attorney, huh?," he tried to humour you a bit to cover up his embarrassment. he then proceeded to grab some random papers and run his eyes over those instead.

you couldn't help your jaw dropping a bit. was he actually oblivious to what he's been doing for god knows how many months now? was he genuinely not aware of the gaze that was nothing short of an invitation for you to walk over and jump his bones?

these questions bounced in your head for the remaining minutes before you hurriedly packed your papers and items then left the office with an awkwardly nervous "goodbye".

he blinked, confused at your sudden reaction.

nevertheless, higuruma considered this another win in his book, as he recalled how cute you looked trying to remain calm, and he began to ponder the other ways in which he could make you lose your cool, but he knew that you weren't ready for that yet.

higuruma was, in fact, aware of his fuck-me eyes.

-> hmmm, in my head, this was wayyyyy less story-like and more about his whore eyes and what he thinks about but it turned into a drabble ig. lemme know if a part 2 with actual sex or something that's close to it sounds nice. byeee :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another Monday. Is this what life is? Mourning the weekend as you try to wipe the sleep from your eyes. It's too much, you should be cuddling squishes and snoring.

You hop off the bus and head towards the building. Once you're at your desk, you can pretend you're awake. If you get the right angle, you can just doze off a bit. Just a couple minutes more.

The elevator nearly knocks you with its slow rise. You shuffle between cubicles but before you can claim your chair, you find something unexpected. A cushion. A pink and white ergonomic cushion with a matching pad clung around the back rest. Um, this isn't your chair.

You look around confused. Someone will be real mad when they realise they lost their fancy chair. People do seem territorial around here. You turn the chair as you search for its owner.

“Did I get the colour right?” A grizzly voice has you leaping in place. You face Curtis as he rests his hand on the side of your cubicle, “they had purple too.”

“You?” You gasp.

“I…” he shrugs and his eyes wander to the ceiling, “I'm tryna make it up to you. I was and asshole so–”

“Nope, nuh uh,” you turn and tear open the velcro, detaching the back pad, “keep ‘em. I don't want your charity.”

“It's not–” he steps forward, “it's an apology.”

“Apology? For stealing? Well, I can't forgive a liar.”

You shove the pad against his chest, “I think I was clear. You should be happy I was because I have a terrible habit of rambling. My mom says I could talk the dead to life.”

He reluctantly clasps onto the pad as he scowls. You grab the seat cushion and press it against the other one. He reluctantly hooks his other arm under it.

“I was gonna give it back,” he grumbles.

“So why'd you take it?” You challenge.

“I don't know,” he mutters.

“I do. You're a bully. I left those behind in school,” you put your hands on your hips, “so go away and keep your hands off my things!”

His nostrils flare as his eyes meet yours. They're the shade of blue that makes you think of storms and the ocean and butterfly wings. He'd be cute if he wasn't so mean.

“You shouldn't talk to me like that,” he warns as he squeezes the cushions.

“Take your own advice, meanie! You had your chance.”

“I've been nice,” he rasps as he looks you up and down.

You're unsettled by how the glint in his eyes changes, how his shoulders square and his jaw ticks. He meets your gaze and narrows his eyes.

“You don't know what mean is.”

You flinch as he spins on his heel. He marches past you, a gust of air tickling your cheeks as he flees. You turn and watch him go, your stomach knotting.

Maybe you were a bit rude, even pushy, but you're trying to be better about drawing lines. You don't have to be a doormat to be nice. Even if it is easier.

You put your bag on your desk and sit, squeaking at the harsh impact of your ass on the thin seat. Gosh, there may as well not be any padding. You sniff and swivel close to the desk, booting the computer as you wait and think.

He's mad but he'll get over it. He made it clear he has no interest in you before so why this sudden change. Oh well, you never really understood men or their brains.

🩷

You stare at your pen cup and frown. You miss your happy penguin pen buddy. As you ponder his absence, that suspicion nips at your ears. Maybe he took those too.

Does it matter? You're moving on. You ordered new pens on Amazon. You're starting over new!

You get up to get a fresh coffee. You really should cut back. Maybe you could do some hot chocolate but you get a bit silly when you have too much sugar.

You enter the break room and immediately want to storm out. He's there, glaring at the machine as he watches it brew. You smell the dark roast you bought him. How could you have ever been so nice to someone like him?

Curtis takes his mug and you sidle along the wall, certain to get well out of his way. He turns and stops as he sees you. You stare at the ceiling as you wait for him to go.

He snarls but makes no move to leave. You bounce on your heels with your mug in hand. You can wait.

He's not going. So you go to the machine and peruse the selection. Maple shortbread, huh, that's a curious choice.

You sense him lingering. You do your best to ignore him, the scuff of his shoes putting you on edge. You're not the best at reading people, obviously, but you can feel his anger.

As he looms closer, you take a step forward. You spin and throw an arm up as if blocking an unseen strike. Your hand flips Curtis’ mug, spilling the brown liquid down his grey shirt. He backs up and looks down at the mess.

“Why would you do that?”

“Personal space,” you wave your arm up and down, drawing the invisible wall before you.

“I'm trying to… you're crazy, you know that?”

“So what does that make you?” You pout, “I told you to leave me alone.”

He puffs, lip curling as he grips his mug tight. He scoffs and whips it past you so it smashes against the wall and the bits litter over the counter. You let out a squeal as he stomps out, leaving you in shock, standing before a puddle of coffee.

You gulp and face the remnants of his mug. You should clean that up before anyone cuts themselves. You cross to the counter and set to carefully plucking up the shards.

“What happened in here?” Melanie asks as she enters, “oh it's you.”

You ignore her as you focus on the glass. Of course she assumes it was you. Seems like everyone thinks you're a disaster.

[aquarelliwrites]

Go For Broke, Chapter 1: First Loser, Second Loser

the Monaco 2022 Grand Prix weekend retold. // series masterlist

Picture the Monaco riviera on a Thursday morning. Mechanics buzzing around cars and stacks of tyres, reporters and photographers streaming in through the gates, and a Ferrari driver sitting squeezed between the pit wall monitors and the wall on the second story of her garage. A thick pane of glass muffling the chatter and racket growing louder by the minute.

Away from the overwhelming sea of rich tourists, camera lenses and microphones, sleep clawed at the edges of her vision and the cobwebbed peripheral hallways of her mind. The iced coffee and half-eaten pastry on the floor next to her weren’t doing a good job of holding it back on their own.

A long, quiet stanza shattered with the note of a simple “Ciao.” 

“Fuck!” Her hand came up sharply - to punch her teammate in the face, or rest over her heart to calm it? She couldn’t know.

“Wouldn’t have pinned you for fight, puzzone. You seem more like a flight type of person.” He - Charles - laughed, fiddling with the vlog camera in his right hand. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning, my ass. Gave me the scare of my life just now.”

The liar grinned. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Sure. What are you doing up here, anyway?” Giving the floor right next to her a little pat, she prompted him to sit down and join her behind the wall of computers. It’s not like anyone was there to tell them they were in the way.

“I’m recording a behind-the-scenes vlog this weekend. This seemed like a good place to get some aerial footage, but I was going to go up to the terrace as well, to see which was better.” His answer was enthusiastic, and she smiled and nodded as he continued to talk about his camera specs and when the lighting on track should be the best. Alas, it didn’t distract him as well as she’d hoped. “Why are you sleeping up here?”

“I couldn’t sleep very well last night.” Understatement of the century. The heels of her palms rubbed her eyes in a vague attempt to somehow rectify an entire night’s worth of tossing and turning.

“How come?” Finally setting his camera down, he glanced back at her. “Oh, you smudged your, um..”

“Eye pencil? Of course I did.” With a sigh too deep to be indicating exclusively frustration over her messed-up makeup, she swiped whatever smudges she could from her under eyes. “I don’t know. At first, everything was too loud. Then it got too quiet, so I had to put on music. Then it was too hot, then too cold. I think I also spent a while staring at the ceiling.” And crying. That part went unsaid, though. “I’m just a bit nervous about the weekend, I think.” 

Did she say ‘understatement of the century’ earlier? She was fairly sure this beat the record. It was a miracle she'd managed to keep down the few bites she did.

He grimaced slightly, extended his hand to hold hers, gave it a slight squeeze even. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“No worries. Not your fault, monello.”

A smile reappeared on his face at the childish nickname. “Come on, you’re the only one of us who actually likes media day.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She managed a small smile. Now that she was distracted, he managed to swipe the rest of her pastry - not without earning a slap to the wrist in the process.

“Hey!”

“You weren’t eating it!” He yells in complete defense of his actions. Had she been actually hungry, she might have killed him then and there. 

“It’s fine. I was done with it.”

Media didn't suck as much as she expected it to. Not that it usually did.

There were the ever-present questions, of course. It was a mental checklist, maybe bingo card, every week: 

Are she and Charles dating? (No.)

How does it feel to be the first woman in Formula 1 since Lella Lombardi to score points? (Good, but there should have been women before her.)

Which brands of haircare or skincare did she use? (Lots, but what did it matter when she wore a helmet most of the time?)

Does she feel like she can keep up with the rest of the grid? (This one usually just received a blank stare until the interviewer got too uncomfortable to wait for an answer.)

Was it sad that she got excited to actually talk about the car she'd be driving? Incredibly.

The rest of the interviews were crammed full of hopes that Charles would finally do well, that the team would do well as a whole, that- well, you get the point.

Minutes later, the photographers that managed to walk out first got treated to a great shot of supposedly sworn enemies - two Ferrari drivers and two Red Bull Racing drivers - standing near the exit of the media pen and watching reporters file out.

Chatting with Sergio - Checo, she and everybody else called him - was the best way to spend the, seemingly, geological eon Charles and Max took to debrief each other about… well, about everything. Those guys didn't talk all that much outside of the paddock, and they were practically neighbors. It's weird.

She always found Checo more approachable, anyway. Whenever she even walked past his Dutch teammate, she could practically feel his icy gaze shooting daggers through her. If looks could kill, she'd have died a hundred times over.

Not that she didn't return the glares - she found it quite enjoyable to produce a staring contest out of thin air, and it would usually end up with him looking away, the slightest of unnoticed blushes settling upon the tips of his ears.

Today, Checo had a delightful surprise - a guy on Twitter doing imitations of F1-related personalities. She laughed along at the stuttering blunders of Will Buxton and the monotone accented voice resembling Checo's uncannily, and even the one of Max struggling to open a can of Red Bull and swearing profusely upon receiving radio instructions, but what really got her to look aghast was the next impression. Of her.

“Come on, that's no girl voice!” She was sure they were attracting attention with their laughter, since their teammates both looked over in confusion. “He sounds like he inhaled helium!”

“No, no, he sounds correct to me.” Checo faux-wiped a tear from his eye.

“It absolutely does not!”

“Here, Charles, Max, take a look at this.” They complied - and unfortunately, did not agree with her.

“I don't know, that pretty much sounds like you. Whenever I hear you speak it's like a caffeinated chipmunk squeaking at me all angrily.” Max laughed, and she felt blood rush up to her face, embarrassment and anger mixing dangerously.

“I don't know, Verstappen, you not being able to open a can of Red Bull on your own also seemed fairly accurate.” Her sweet tone did nothing to disguise the way the words dripped with acid. He grimaced like they actually burned.

“Sorry, schat, my mistake. Truly, will you ever forgive me?” He turned away - to speak with her teammate once more. 

The guy was fucking insufferable. And the nicknames he gave her only fueled a desire to crush him out on the track. What the hell did schat even mean?

Charles squinted behind his sunglasses. “What in the fresh hell are they doing?” 

A long, obnoxiously loud slurp identical to that of a nearly empty plastic cup that used to store iced coffee sounded off from next to him. “Will you stop that?” He huffed a laugh.

“Stop what?” The second slurp managed to sound more ear-grating than the first. He wasn't sure how that was possible.

“Just… look over there, right?”

The pair stood on the third-story terrace of the Ferrari garage - a feature unique to the Monaco race - and stared out into the harbor. The Red Bull Energy Station was a raft, and it was huge, so the commotion near their swimming pool was easily visible to anyone higher than the second floor.

“That's Max and Checo, Charles.”

“No, idiot, I know that. Look at what they're doing.” He gestured, exasperated, so she cocked a hip and leaned forward over the railing to get a better look.

“They're putting rubber ducks in the pool. Or just a bunch of…” she squinted as well, “tiny yellow blobs. I’m guessing ducks, though?”

“I'm at a loss for words.”

“Charles, you are so dramatic. They just had me blindfold you to drive a sim lap in Imola a couple of weeks ago.”

“That's different.”

“We've done shit more insane than releasing a couple dozen yellow duckies into a pool.”

“Okay, and?

They observe as Max seems to… fish one out of water? A couple of moments later, he's speaking to someone on the phone, and Checo looks like he'll burst if he doesn't let go of his laughter.

“This has to be for the YouTube channel, right?” She half-turned to him to see the confusion and disbelief visible all over his face.

“Definitely. Max wouldn't agree to do that if it wasn't some sort of PR.”

“Okay, loverboy.” His encyclopedic knowledge of Max would annoy her to death if she didn't know every fact she could dig up about him. Some would call it obsessive - she'd just explain it as studying her rival's weaknesses. 

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Okay, see, he just looks like he's crying again!” Charles’ voice raised a little.

“I don't understand why you're so worked up over this.” It was his turn to observe his teammate's nonchalant, if a little curious, exterior.

“You're- ugh. Whatever. Now he's just calling someone again.”

“Oh, to be a fly on that deck. I'd kill to know what Checo was laughing at.” With a final slurp, she rediscovered one last sip of her drink that had missed her entirely.

“Ooh, be careful.” His voice was laced with a teasing undertone behind her.

She shot Charles a confused look.

It's Friday now, and all their successful data gathering in both practice sessions earned them the privilege - she'd beg to differ - of an ice bath. She's tried and failed to kick, scream, and claw her way out of them (metaphorically, of course) before.

It was, however, a relief to finally get to take her hoodie off. It had been sensible clothing mere hours earlier, but it was positively stifling then. She let out a dramatic gasp at the freedom of weather-appropriate attire.

“What do you mean?”

“Getting changed? In front of everyone? What will the media think?” His voice was nothing but crystal clear sarcasm, with his face distorted in an expression of faux disapproval. “Scandalous. I thought I taught you better.”

A puzzled laugh escaped her. “Wh-? Why the hell are you shaking your head at me? I have a top on.” She gestured to the, realistically, fairly modest swimsuit top on herself.

“Did you even think of the poor engineers who will be so distracted from working on our cars?” 

The level of this man's theatricality was show-stopping and infuriating simultaneously. “Charles. Darling.”

“Hm?”

“You were literally flashing your tits to, oh, I don't know, about… what, half the paddock? And thousands of SkyTV viewers? Like, ten minutes ago?”

“What? Me? I could never.” He even did a pearl-clutching motion at the very implication. She rolled her eyes.

“You are literally wearing less clothing than me right now. Like, if you turn around, you'll count approximately… two dozen Paddock Club girls drooling over your biceps as we speak.”

“No… Well, touché. They want us in the tubs now, though.”

“That's- yes, why else did you think I was undressing?”

“You can never know with you.”

She rolled up the towel in her hand in order to smack him as hard as she could, but he only laughed. “Prick.”

The ice bath was terrible. Awful. She wished she could be poetic and compare it to a breath of winter's night, or a fireless hearth - that would not do it justice. Plunging into the tub was the ninth circle of hell, with Dante and Virgil observing her slow and painful eternal fate.

The media people were having a field day with Charles. She didn't know how he managed to keep his composure enough to let them film thirst traps.

“Fuck me, this is miserable.” Her teeth were chattering so hard that she thought her lower jaw would soon start creaking on its hinges from the motion. She watched the goosebumps blooming all over her thighs and arms. And Charles was fucking laughing, the bastard.

“Mon dieu, I don't know what I did to wrong you,” she uttered through gritted teeth towards the sky, “but I swear never to do it again.”

The sky, of course, didn't respond. Her teammate thought it was a good time to pipe up, though.

“You took me out two years ago, in Alfa Romeo. This is karma.”

Her head snapped towards him, if only to lower her sunglasses and glare at him over the tops of the frames. He didn't bother looking up from checking his fingernails.

“That wasn't even my fault- Fuck, this is so cold.”

When the Ferrari social media girl let her know she'd start filming her then, the only thing she could do is nod curtly, jaw clenched.

“How are you feeling after FP1 and FP2?”

“Very… very positive about the weekend.” If nothing else, every single muscle in her body seizing at the freezing water might finally be the thing to give her better abs.

“And how are you feeling?”

“What, right now?” The girl nodded. “Arguably worse than before I got in. I'll be loving it when I get out in- when can I get out?” 

The small gaggle of Ferrari employees around her laughed. “Oh, yes, hilarious, I bet.” 

“Ah, you're being dramatic now. It's not a duck's cold.” His badly translated French idiom forced a small smile onto her face. Both of them being multilingual more often than not meant one of them being stared at in confusion over a poor choice of words that got mistranslated on its way over their tongue. 

“I'm just saying, it's a perfectly pleasant and sunny day. I don't understand what need there was for a plastic tub colder than a Siberian lake?”

An ice cube hit her head. Her glare only made Charles smile sweetly.

“If I wasn't under threat of all of Monaco skinning me alive at any harm done to you, I'd throttle you right now.”

He blew her a kiss. Bitch.

Champagne bubbled past her lips on the second step that Sunday. It was a Red Bull 1-3, with an incredibly disappointed Charles down in P4. She only managed to spot his melancholic expression down in the crowd of navy and red when the Mexican anthem was playing its last notes. 

The race was a spectacle by Monaco standards - an incredible 21 overtakes and a fight for P2 for the entire duration. She had barely managed to drag the Ferrari over the finish line on mediums so torn up, they might have punctured on the following lap. Really, she was just counting her lucky stars.

She blinked rapidly, wiping alcohol from her eyes. Or was it still sweat from the race? Taking a long drag from the bottle seemed to cool her down enough. Checo was chatting with Max, both of them soaked just like her. She was delighted at his win, and happier more when she realized she beat Max. A smile grew on her face uncontrollably at the thought of the way she practically skipped past the third step and straight into second place - his eyes burning holes in the side of her head the entire time. If looks could kill, they’d be cleaning her dead body off the floor before any trophies could even be handed out.

Had she glared back at him, he’d have turned his head abruptly to avoid notice.

To be entirely honest, she wasn’t even sure when a rivalry between them began to form. They never karted together - maybe she only saw him a couple of times when she was very young and he was in a category above hers. While he had skipped F2 altogether and left Charles his F3 seat, she was still fighting through regional F4 championships. When she was in Alfa Romeo with Kimi in 2020, he was already winning with Red Bull.

Maybe she had grown tired of the news of his wins; or he had had it with her successfully playing the media darling; or both of them started growing abrasive every time the other flaunted a better result as proudly as a championship win.

To put it shortly: If the two of them were involved, it tended to be tense.

Flashing Max a proud and mocking grin from behind Checo’s back only resulted in a scoff and a roll of his eyes. Or at least she guessed - the champagne stuck to her lashes made her vision a kaleidoscope a little more than she would’ve liked.

After they had their picture taken, she gathered her trophy against her hip and the open bottle limply in her other hand. Had she walked off the podium any faster than she did, she wouldn’t have caught his muttering.

“You always have to one-up everyone, huh?”

“Not everyone.” She smiled, sweetly. “Just you.”

“Aw, I’m honored.” He spoke in a tone that was anything but honored. “You only try so hard to keep up with me, schat?” Again with the ridiculous nickname. Was he calling her shit?

“In your dreams, Verstappen. S’not my fault I’m just so naturally talented, and you’re… you. You know?” Anyone who heard her dry reply might have doubted she even believed the praise she threw at herself. Except Max.

“Was it natural talent when-”

“Alright, children, enough.” Checo’s arms came around both of their shoulders as he led them off the podium. “Kid, do you want to come to the energy station- Max, don’t look at me like that- do you want to come watch the pool dive? Horner said he might wear a… what’s it called? The swimming underwear?”

“Um, Speedos?”

“Yes!” The snap of his fingers rang behind her right ear. “A Union Jack Speedo.” 

“That’s… supposed to be enticing?”

He shrugged, letting go of both of them now that the trio was away from cameras. Max left immediately. “Invite Charles. I’ll see if I can get any other drivers to come.”

“Me and Charles? I thought we were practically Public Enemies #1 and #2 over there?”

“Ah, well… yes. Maybe don’t come in red.”

“Incredibly helpful as always, Checo.”

Raising his pointer finger at her, he looked more like a dad than ever before. “Don’t give me that tone.” He received only a sly grin and an eyeroll.

“Any plans for tonight?”

“You’ll see it in the groupchat.”

The Red Bull Energy Station ended up looking more like a millionaire’s- no, billionaire’s college pool party that afternoon, with more and more people filtering in by the minute.

In a show of solidarity towards her teammate, she had stolen the P2 champagne for him and herself to share in a walk around the marina. Already, they observed yacht owners getting ready for the afterparty of the year all around them.

“You look surprisingly somber.” He said after a long silence. 

She simply took a long swig of lukewarm alcohol to avoid answering.

“Are you-” He stopped. Hesitated. “Is- Um, how are you doing?”

“Good.” A response typical for someone who most definitely was not good. “Very good.”

“Are you su-”

“Y’know, I’m very excited for tonight. I don’t get to party it up in Monaco much.” Cutting him off looked to be the best option right then. “Last year was more chill.”

“...Yes, we went for a picnic up to that viewpoint with Charlotte and… who were you dating then?”

“Oh, Antonio? I wasn’t serious with him.”

“Oh?” He gratefully took the bottle when she offered it. “I thought you were.”

“It’s hard to be. You of all people should know how the media reacts to our relationships.” Among other things.

Having not even realized it, they were now standing before the Red Bull hospitality - if that was a correct term for the frat raft it appeared to be.

“Shall we?” He said. She swallowed.

“Might as well.”

To be fair, the deck was comfortable. And loud. Incredibly loud. They were offered Red Bulls - which they accepted, as they weren’t, y’know, animals. In a few minutes, she found herself sitting on the railing to get a better look over everybody else’s heads, while he leaned against it right next to her. 

And to her mixed disappointment and relief, Christian Horner did not wear a Union Jack Speedo while jumping into the pool. He didn’t even jump - Max shoved him in after Checo.

The little party went on for a little while, but her social battery was dying and relying on Charles’ charms didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. When she announced her decision to leave to him, he agreed quickly, still carrying her souvenir bottle for her.

Unfortunately for them, nobody else had. The crowd was still there, much like a great number of immovable concrete walls, and they struggled to make their way to the stairs. Charles, being a bit taller and more broad-shouldered, went first in an attempt to push his way through. She, however, got separated fairly easily and had little control in being accidentally herded to the pool’s edge like cattle.

“Hey, wait-” Someone she had no time to see collided with her, sending her right into the water.

Or they would have, if her arm wasn’t abruptly grabbed by the most irritating, bothersome individual who she could have possibly crossed paths with at that moment.

He had an annoyed look in his eyes. “Watch it.”

“...Thank you.” It was painful for her dignity to say while he pulled her back to a standing position. Not waiting for a response, she hurried after Charles.

And left Max standing alone in the crowd. 

NOTE: Honestly, I'm not that happy with this but I am glad that I finally got it out. Slightly anticlimatic for a first chapter? Yeah, nothing I can do about that now. Also this wasn't beta read, sorry for the mistakes you were forced to endure lol

TAGLIST: @falk0r3

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[traveler-at-heart]

Shopping

Summary: Natasha hates shopping, but an incident might change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Who knew saving the world was so much work.

Specifically, paperwork. 

Thor, unfamiliar with Earth’s customs and the bureaucracy of any organization, always had trouble filing his reports. You volunteered to spare him of endless hours sitting in front of a computer and to save Steve the frustration of trying to figure what the god meant when he wrote things like “the screams of our victims can be heard from Hell”

Only, you had been at it for almost three hours now. You stretch, feeling your back muscles strained.

Time for a snack break. 

Which you were doing, eating cereal and browsing through some emails. There’s a sale at your favorite store. Maybe, if you find the right outfit, you’ll agree to that blind date Tony’s been nagging you about. 

The day seems to be getting better, until Sam rushes past you, mumbling.

“Run, hide, anything”

“What?” you say, mouth full of cereal. He’s already gone. Five seconds later, Natasha storms in. “Oh, hey, Nat”

She glares and you gulp down the rest of your food. Against your better judgment, you smile again and ask her if she wants to go shopping. You can’t stop talking, she makes you that nervous. 

“I hate shopping”

You already know it and she tells you for good measure, before rolling her eyes and leaving the kitchen.

Right.

“Bucky, she’s alive,” Sam whispers as you walk back to your room. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She was pissed. Had an argument with Tony” Bucky barely opens his door.

“They always do” 

“Romanoff looked ready to kill him”

“She always does. And why are you hiding behind the door?” you look at Bucky.

“He ate all of Romanoff’s angry cookies” Sam replies.

“Terrible timing”

“Yeah” Bucky sighs, peaking around to see if Natasha is coming to kick his ass. Frankly, you wouldn’t stop her.

“Well, if you’re done gossiping, I have a shower to take”

“Where you going?”

“Shopping” you immediately shut down Sam’s curious tone. These boys are so nosy.

“Can I come?”

“Absolutely not. You always flirt with the girls and I can never get them to help me out”

“Oh, come on”

“Knock it off or I’m telling Nat you ate those cookies”

“No!” he sprints down to his room, while Bucky shuts the door so fast, you swear the wood cracks.

Ugh, it’s like living with teenagers. Thankfully, you have a plan. As you suspect, Natasha is going around the kitchen cabinets, mumbling something about “killing Barnes”

“Hey” you don’t expect her to respond or turn around, so you just place the package on the counter. “I know those man babies eat everything on sight, so I always have some saved in my room. Your favorites” 

Natasha stops her movements, but still won’t turn around. 

“Thanks” she finally says as you walk back to your room.

You wish it was enough to make her feel better. You also wish she trusted you enough to vent about what it is she’s so upset about. 

But with Natasha, there’s always been a wall. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, because you find her so attractive, endearing and even cute. 

If you get close, then you’re sure it’s going to evolve from slight crush to full time pining.

That can’t happen.

These thoughts take up most of your shower time and as you get ready to leave, you only turn around once to check your hair.

There’s a surprise waiting for you at the garage. Someone sitting on the driver’s seat of your car.

Natasha looks up and smirks.

“I don’t let anyone else drive”

“Mind you, I’m more worried about how you broke into my car without the alarm blaring” you tsk as she takes the keys from your hand.

She shrugs her shoulders and to your surprise, guesses which mall you’re heading to.

“I notice things too”

“You’re talking about those cookies?”

“I guess”

“Well, you’re always welcome to get them from my room. Secret cabinet behind the mirror”

“Nice”

You chuckle and she actually looks like her mood is improving.

And you… you are approaching the pining stage at an alarming rate.

--

“So, what are you looking for?” she asks when you finally get to your favorite clothing store. Natasha looks completely out of place between the lighting and the bland pop music playing in the background.

When she turns around, she finds you putting some lingerie sets over your clothed body, evaluating the shape and color.

She’s thankful you’re too focused on your own reflection to catch her blushing madly. Now is not the best time to picture you wearing one of those sets.

“Oh, maybe something to go on a date” you reply, choosing the black lingerie.

That answer is enough to put her in a bad mood again. 

After a few minutes looking around, you sense that she’s starting to get impatient. Natasha shrugs her shoulders at every dress you show her. You might as well be holding a hot dog suit to get her approval.

“Alright, I’m going to the dressing room. Hold this” you give her your purse, to guarantee she won’t flee the minute you close the door.

“Don’t be long” she mumbles when you’ve barely taken your top off. Without thinking much about it, you peak through the door and smile mischievously.

“Relax. If you’re a good girl I’ll get you something nice”

The redhead blushes furiously as you close the door again. You think it’s pointless to show her the dress, thinking she’ll just shrug and make a non committal hum. 

You’re on dress number three and think it’s the best one yet. 

“Shit” your smile is quickly replaced by a frown when you realize the zipper on the back is stuck. “Nat” you call frantically for her.

“What?”

“I’m stuck”

“What…?”

“Come here” you jump out of the dressing room and pull her inside, shutting the door behind you. “The zipper. Can you pull it down?”

“Y-yes”

“Ok, go” you move your wavy hair out of the way, expecting it to be over with one swift motion.

But Natasha’s touch is surprisingly soft and delicate. You feel her breath close to your neck. Fuck.

“Fuck” Natasha says and you snap back.

“What is it?”

“It’s really stuck” she sits on the little chair at the corner of the room and pulls you along. As she keeps trying to undo the zipper, your body gives in, sitting almost on her lap, your back to her front.

“Almost… there” she grunts, pulling so hard that you end up actually sitting on her lap, squealing at the force of her movements. “Sorry, sorry, I got you”

“I thought I was gonna die” you sigh, not moving away from arms that are circling your waist.

“Trained spy is scared of a little fabric?”

“Jerk” you stand up, but the dress is halfway down, limiting your movements. It falls completely to the ground, you stumble and turn, landing once again on Natasha’s lap, this time face to face.

Or rather… Breasts to face. She has her entire face on your lingerie clad breasts.

“Jesus, Nat, I’m sooo sorry…” your apology dies down when you feel strong arms pulling you closer. You look down and find emerald eyes, pupils dilated with lust and lips parted, waiting for permission to move forward.

There’s not much else to think about, so you place your hands on either side of her face and kiss her, desperate and fast. Natasha moans against your mouth, moving down to your neck and sucking until she leaves a mark. Her expert fingers are trying to unclasp your bra when...

“Everything ok in there?” a store clerk asks. You break apart, feeling frustrated and very much turned on.

“Yeah, I’m almost done here!” you shout, a little too out of breath.

“I think your friend left. She really hates shopping, huh?”

“Oh, I think I’ve managed to change her mind” you wink at Natasha before putting your clothes back on.

--

“Stop” Natasha says as you head back to the Compound, one hand on the wheel and the other hovering above your leg.

“I’m not…!”

“You’re staring”

“You’re a really good kisser”

The redhead blushes and you think you’re in love.

No turning back now.

“So… when’s your date?”

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“But I thought...”

“Tony was insisting on setting me up. That was before I knew my not-so-secret crush wanted to have her way with me in a dressing room” 

For the first time ever, Natasha is speechless and you laugh.

“So how about tomorrow?” she finally asks as she parks your car.

“That works for me” you walk side by side and then smile. “See? Aren’t you glad you went shopping with me today? You got to pick the clothes you’ll rip off of me” 

Natasha stops walking, and she’s actually considering just taking you up to her room right now.

“Tomorrow” you promise, smiling as you peck her lips.

--

“Hey”

“Yes, Sam?” you still have a silly smile, walking back to your room.

“I just saw Natasha and she smiled at me. Do you think she’s ok?”

“Yes, Sam” you roll your eyes, but he keeps staring. “What?”

“What’s that thing on your neck?”

Fuck. You slap your hand over the hickey and rush to your room.

“None of your business”

“As long as you keep her happy!”

“Shut up, Wilson”

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Silver Springs - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader/Roy Kent x Fem!Reader

Silver Springs - Jamie Tartt xFem!Reader, Roy Kent x FemReader!

Content - angst, flirting, friends to lovers, love triangle

Word Count - 3k

Summary - Whilst Jamie is in the throes of preparing for the Man City game, Roy tries to show the reader that he's noticed her past just being the coaches’ assistant, even if it makes him feel guilty. 

Read Part One Here

A/N - Part 2 of this love triangle fic, let’s gooooo. As always like and reblog if you enjoy and let me know what you think <33 

It had been about a week since Jamie had kissed you, and things weren’t official. You couldn’t say you weren’t disappointed, but you understood the mental stress he was under with the upcoming Man City match. Being able to be intimately close to him was enough, because you knew he needed the comfort. Sitting on your couch and stroking his hair as you felt his breathing become deeper made you more than content. 

You sigh slightly to yourself and open your laptop, your color coded calendar coming to life. You glance to the corner of your screen, looking at the time. Bright and early with plenty of time to move appointments and schedule other needed meetings. You sat at your desk in the small room off of Ted and Beard’s. Your deskmate wasn’t there yet. He actually grunted every time you called him your “deskmate”, but annoying Roy Kent was one of the perks of this job. 

“Hey, love.” You would recognize his voice anywhere, and you look up to see Jamie leaning on the doorframe. He crosses the room and gives you a sweet peck on the lips, then plants another kiss on the top of your head. He crosses through your office to the locker room and you smile to yourself. What a perfect start to your day, a kiss from the man you had wanted to be with for so long. You look back to your screen and start moving appointments, adding in the important dates Ted left on a football shaped sticky note, including the latest visit from Henry. 

A slight thud on your desk has you tearing your eyes away from your computer screen. You see a take-away coffee cup with the name “RAY” written in big, scratchy letters. You look up, greeted with a glowering, bushy eyebrowed face. “Can I help you…Ray?” You grin gesturing to the coffee cup. 

“Fuck’s sake.” He grunts. “I brought you coffee.” He scoots the coffee cup closer to you, and you raise an eyebrow, Roy Kent was bringing you coffee? 

“Thank you…but why?” 

“What do you fuckin’ mean why? Cause you’re nice and you’re always bringing everyone else coffee.” He says gruffly, dropping his iconic black leather jacket onto his own chair, revealing his tight fitting black tshirt underneath. You take a sip of the coffee to avoid gazing at him, you had eyes and knew he was fit. You were pleasantly surprised at your drink. 

“How’d you know my order?” You say, taking another delighted sip of your drink. You watch Roy’s jaw jump slightly and he shrugs. 

“Must have just picked up on it.” He says nonchalantly. In reality, he snooped around your desk the night previous, but he wasn’t going to admit to that. That sounded insane. He felt like a terrible person. He and Tartt were on good terms again, friends even, and here he was trying to win over the girl he knew Jamie was mad about. He was a prick. And a bad friend. But he couldn’t help it. Something about you drew him to you, and you made him want to open up to the possibility of being in a serious relationship again. 

You smile slightly at Roy’s back, flattered that he had done this for you. You were still a bit baffled as to why. It’s not as if Roy wasn’t nice to you, he was. But usually he answered you in growls, not full sentences. “Well…I really appreciate it. I didn’t have time to grab coffee this morning before getting to work.” 

Roy turns to look at you, one corner of his lips ticking upwards. “Don’t mention it.” He says. “Seriously, fuckin’ don’t.” You openly laugh at this and turn back to your computer screen. 

“What is all that shit anyway?” Roy asks, and you can feel him cross the tiny space to stand over your shoulder. When he leans over and places one hand on your desk and one on the arm of your desk chair, you feel your heart skip a beat. Which was dumb. Why would that be your reaction? You ignore the feeling and shrug. 

“This is how you get your extra physio appointments, how Ted has time to review game footage every other day, and how Beard knows when it’s time to exchange his library books.” You look up at him. “It’s all color coded for every member of the team. I’m pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself.” You give him a small smile and go back to typing in the extra appointments Ted had asked you to put in. 

“Fuck.” Roy says, watching you work the schedule around. “Now I understand why Ted said he didn’t know which way was up without you.” 

“Aw, you talk to Ted about little ole me?” You flash him a teasing grin and his heart wrenches. Fuck you and your stupid, pretty grin. 

“Uh…” Roy starts, coughing slightly to cover his embarrassment. 

You pat the hand resting on your desk before you continue typing. “I’m just kidding, Roy.” 

Roy clears his throat, but still hadn’t moved from his spot. He seemed content to watch you work, which was unusual for him, but you didn’t mind. He was a little close, sure, but if he wanted to watch you put in appointments and move Sam’s restaurant re-opening for him then who were you to tell him no? 

“Love?” You look up at the sound of Jamie’s pet name for you and smile brightly at him. 

“Hi!” 

“Am…I interruptin’ somethin’?” Jamie asks, pushing his hair back with his headband, looking from you to Roy. Why was Roy so close to you? That made him feel uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why. He knew that you had feelings for him, but he hadn’t made anything official. He supposed he couldn’t blame you for exploring your options. His eyes meet Roy’s, who clears his throat and straightens up, away from you.

“No.” Roy says gruffly. “I was just looking at the insane color coding she has in there.” 

Jamie nods slightly, looking to you, who he was relieved to see, only had eyes for him.  He crosses the room to you, kneeling in front of where you sat, and you look down at him, eyebrow raised. He grins at you. 

“I jus’ wanted to come see if you wanted to have lunch with me today.” He says, ignoring Roy completely at this point. You nod enthusiastically, pushing a strand of hair that came loose from the headband back. 

“Course I do.” You said, smiling at him. “Meet you at the kebab place around the corner?” You ask, to which Jamie nods. He glances at Roy, who is pretending to be preoccupied on his phone and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, soft kiss. 

“Great. See ya then, darlin’.” You smile as you watch him walk out, quickly turning back to your work. Next on the agenda, emails. 

“So.” You hear. 

You turn towards Roy’s voice. “So..?”

“You and Tartt, yeah?” 

You shrug. “Nothing is official yet.” You say nonchalantly, trying to hide just how giddy you were about Jamie openly kissing you and referring to you as “love” or “darlin’”. 

“Not fuckin’ official?” Roy says, incredulous. This was news to him. 

“Not yet.” 

“Why the bloody hell not?” Roy crosses the room again and peers down at you. 

You look back up at him and wave your hand absentmindedly. “Jamie is already stressed about this upcoming match, I can wait until his head is completely clear to have a serious conversation.” You pick up your coffee cup again, taking a sip of the delicious hazelnut latte. 

But you nearly choke when Roy leans down, one hand on each of your chair’s armrests, caging you in. His face is inches from yours. 

“That’s fuckin’ dumb, babe.” 

You lower the coffee cup from your lips, studying his face intently. Your heart was pounding. Babe? What was he doing? Never in the entire few years you had been here, had the Roy Kent paid so much attention to you. 

“Hm.” You say, quirking an eyebrow. “And why is that dumb?” 

Roy smirks slightly. “Because if I had you, I wouldn’t even fuckin’ hesitate to claim you.” 

You realized you were holding your breath and you laugh nervously. “O..oh.” You say, swallowing. “Well I don’t think Jamie is hesitating to claim me.” You look into his face, because he was making it impossible not to notice how handsome he actually is. Sure, you weren’t public with your relationship, but Jamie didn’t hide how he felt about you, at all. 

“Maybe not here. But I would be shouting from the fuckin’ rooftops if I had someone as nice as you smiling pretty at me like you do Jamie.” You can see him studying your face, and in reality, Roy’s heart is pounding. He’s getting a bit too carried away here and he didn’t know when or how to stop. 

“Maybe you could have someone with a pretty smile if you weren’t such a grouch.” You counter, leaning in closer to him, aware now that you were having some sort of effect on him. You watch him swallow, his eyes flicking down to your lips. You smirk at him.

He growls in response, catching you completely off guard that you had elicited such a sound from him but making you smirk even more. You press a single finger against his lips, standing up as you push him back. 

“See? Grouch.” You tease, moving your finger but before you can rest your hand at your side again, Roy looks down at you, catching your wrist in his hand. 

“Fuck’s sake, woman.” He says, almost breathlessly. You look up at him, fluttering your eyelashes innocently, but trying to deny the fact that you liked how his large hand had caught you. The look on your face was all it took for Roy to back you into a wall, his lips on yours. One hand with his fingers splayed across your hip, digging greedily, almost possessively, the other letting go of your wrist to yank you closer to him, if that was even possible. The kiss was sloppy, heated, needy. The heat of your body pressed against Roy’s was making your head cloudy. When he deepens the kiss, your breath hitches and a slight moan escapes your lips, causing Roy to smirk into your lips. 

You felt so bad that you kissed him back. When Roy pulled away, he immediately lets go of you. 

“I…I shouldn’t have fuckin’ done that.” 

 What were you doing? What about Jamie? “I..shouldn’t have kissed you back.” You whispered, wide eyed. Roy has stepped back and away from you, but he’s watching you with such a look of longing. “I’m the worst girlfriend ever.” You say. 

“Not his girlfriend, technically.” 

You shift your gaze and focus your eyes on him. “What?” You say.

“You’re not his girlfriend officially.” Roy grunts, before stepping closer to you again. “I get if you don’t ever fuckin’ speak to me again. Just don’t tell me you regretted that.” 

You gaze up at him. No, you’re not Jamie’s girlfriend. But Jamie is everything you ever wanted. And it made you feel horrible that you didn’t regret that little kiss-attack. You shake your head slowly, watching as Roy came close to you again, hovering above you, his torso pressing into you. “Please.” He says.

The gruff, broken plea in his voice makes your knees weak and you shake your head. “I can’t tell you that.” You say, clearing your throat and straightening up, your breath slightly heavy. 

“Even if I know you don’t?” He says grabbing your chin, looking into your eyes. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you breathe out. “Yes.” You hated him right now. How did he manage to get a rise out of you so quickly? You pull your face away from his grasp and push yourself off the wall. “I need to go.” You say bluntly, gathering your laptop and your bag. Roy steps back and watches you go, rushing out the door. 

You cannot believe what had just happened. You were so distracted that you run smack into someone in the carpark, their arms grabbing you and steadying you. 

“Woah, love, what’s wrong? You look like ya’ seen a ghost.” 

Jamie. Because of course it was Jamie. You can’t even look him in the eye and he moves his head to catch your gaze. “M’startin’ to worry here, darlin’, what’s wrong?” He asks again, his grip tightening a bit on you. He had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Like he knew what was coming next. 

“We can’t be together.” You say bluntly. 

Jamie blinks once, then twice. “What?” 

“You deserve someone better than me.” 

Jamie still looks dumbfounded, but was becoming almost desperate to find out what you were talking about. “Please tell me what you’re talkin’ about, because I’m gettin’ a little scared.” 

“I…” you look away from him again. “I kissed Roy. Or…he kissed me.” 

Jamie winces. “Y-what?…kissed Roy?” 

“It just happened. And we can’t be together because I’m a horrible person for doing this to you.” You pull out of his grasp, but Jamie grabs you again. “Jamie, please let me go.” 

“No.” He says, simply, grabbing your chin much like Roy had done minutes before. “I’m not pleased, but this is almost like karma for how shitty I’ve been in the past.” He shakes his head when you open your mouth. “Do ya care about me?” 

“Of course I do.” You almost sob, looking at him with the most pathetic eyes he’d ever seen. 

“I know ya do, or you wouldn’t have told me right away.” He kisses your forehead. “M’not happy about it. But I can’t say I blame ya for exploring options when I haven’t even asked ya on a proper date.” 

You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “You being so understanding is making me feel worse. I know we’re not officially together or whatever the hell -“ you pause and look at him. “But I feel so, so, awful that it happened.” 

Jamie shakes his head. “Stop that. M’not going to turn my back on you. I’ve cared about ya too long to let the messy beginning of what we’re tryin’ to figure out be the end of us. Besides, I did this same thing to Roy when he was with Keeley. Sometimes you just…like who you like.” 

You stare at him. “You’re spending too much time with Ted.” 

Jamie actually throws his head back and laughs at that, rolling his eyes once before pulling you in. “Now that you’ve kissed me coach I guess we’re even. Cause I used to be with Keeley and the two of you are thick as thieves.” He really didn’t blame you for any of this, but was making a mental note to maybe punch Roy in his face later. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt, the thought of you kissing someone else. But he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of what he knows is meant to be. He knew that was corny, but with you he wasn’t worried about any of that. He wanted it all, the house, the love, the kids in the future. 

“I’m sorry Jamie. I really am. All I could think about was how much of an asshole I was being.” You look up at him, realizing he’s already gazing at you. 

“Be me girl. Officially.” He says. 

You blink. “I thought you weren’t ready to have a serious conversation until after the match?” 

“Don’t care about any of that anymore.” He says. “Me dad, me reputation with Man City. Don’t matter.” He mumbles into your hair. “Only you matter to me.” 

“Okay.” You whisper. 

“Okay, ya believe me? Or okay, ya wanna make this official?” 

“I want to be yours, Jamie.” You catch the smile on his face and he leans in, cradling your face. The kiss he gives you is so different from what you had experienced with Roy. This was slow, sweet, and loving. Jamie pecks your lips, once, two, three times, and when he pulls back, he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You sigh, contentedly. 

“That’s me girl.” He whispers, holding you close. You realize that this, with Jamie, was what you wanted. He kisses along your jawline, and you can’t help yourself, you smile. “Knew I could coax that gorgeous smile outta ya.” 

Jamie was infatuated with you, and if he was being honest, completely in love with you, and had been since you had been the only one willing to speak to him when he initially came back to Richmond. 

Jamie leads you to his car, and when you both get in, he pulls you across the center console onto his lap, sliding his large palm up to cup your face as he continues to kiss you. You were breathless, tangling your hands in his hair. 

When you both finally pull away, you smile. Jamie tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, just like he did that night in the bar. “I’ve waited so long to be able t’call ya mine, love.” Jamie murmurs, your noses touching. 

You stay like that, Jamie nuzzling you in his lap, while you think about everything that had happened. But you knew that nothing made you feel better than when Jamie held you. You stroke Jamie’s hair absentmindedly. You just hoped that you weren’t truly as terrible as you still felt. 

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of Jamie’s presence. This was more than enough.

[melrodrigo]

Writer - V.C.

Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vada finds out you write fan fiction one day…lots of feelings emerge.

Warnings: suggestive themes

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: This felt a little illegal to write

"YN...are you in love with me?"

Jenna caresses your cheek; tender as can be. You feel your breathing start to quicken, heart rate rising at an alarming rate.

You don't think you can take much more...you connect your lips to hers, desperate, it feels like-

"Hey do you want Chinese or Thai for dinner?" Vada asks as she swings open your bedroom door.

You slam the face of your computer down in a panic. You try your best to act normal, elbow resting on the desk; chin on your hand.

"Why are you doing that with your hands?" Vada asks, gesturing to your weird position; tiny smile on her lips.

Well, I guess that didn't work.

You stay silent as she strolls up to you, walks behind your desk and places her hands on your shoulders.

"Me? This is my normal face, don't know what you're talking 'bout." You answer, trying as best as possible to sound nonchalant.

It's a terrible attempt at a lie, and Vada sees right through it.

"Mhm...I think you're lying."

She rushes forward and takes your computer in her arms. You gasp and get up after her, silently starting to freak out internally.

Sure, Vada knows some pretty dark secrets of yours; hell you've been with Vada through the depths of Tartarus and back. Somehow this is worse than all of that combined.

Admitting you write fan fiction? You'd rather die in a heap of dog shit.

She's smiling wide now, teasing. She hasn't opened up the computer yet, and you pray to god to help you get out of this situation.

You don't have time to formulate a very fool-proof plan, so you resort to the only thing that you know works.

You come at her so quick it probably looks like an attack to an outsider. You cup her cheeks, pull her in for a fierce kiss.

You back her up against your bedroom wall, until she hits it with a loud thud. She's opening her eyes now and looking at you, eyes lust filled and wanting.

You've got her right where you want her.

Her grip loosens on the computer, and you don't waste the opportunity. You're madly grabbing the computer, yanking it out of her hands and running out into the hallway  of your house.

Once you actually get to the hallway though, you realize you don't have a part two to this plan.

What now? Hide the computer and kiss Vada till she forgets about it?

As tempting as that sounds, you know it wouldn't work. When Vada wants something, she gets it.

You don't hear her until she snakes her arms around your waist, effectively locking you in. You forgot she could be very sneaky when she wanted to, like a short little ninja.

She hums, "Now, at first I was going to just tease you for a bit and then give it back to you...but now you've peaked my interest."

She turns you around, hands on both sides of your hips; keeping you from running.

"What's got you looking so flustered huh? I should be the only one that can do that." She huffs, frowning.

You don't give up, giving Vada those pleading eyes you reserve for special occasions.

It doesn't seem to work.

"Vada don't, please-" You protest as she grabs your computer from your arms and opens it up.

It's silent for a minute or two as she reads the contents of the page.

You can't take it anymore, you want to sink into the floor and dissolve into thin air.

Whining, you break away from her grasp and plop down onto the couch; defeated.

Vada giggles first, then she lets out a full cackle as she continues to read.

You hold up a hand to her face, "Don't you dare say anything. I'm embarrassed enough to last many many lifetimes."

She completely disregards your statement, looking at you with pure excitement in her eyes. It's an adorable sight, despite the circumstances.

"You wrote Jenna Ortega fan fiction?" She asks, and she sounds almost in disbelief.

You bury your face in your hands, groaning.

"Wait...she kind of looks like me. Or I kind of look like her, oh my god is that why you agreed to be my girlfriend?" She asks, mouth open.

You roll your eyes internally; get up from your seat. There's a look in her eyes, she's delighted yes; but she also looks a little jealous.

You bite back a smirk, now this was going to be fun revenge.

"Maybe." You shrug, moving further into the apartment.

Vada follows you hurriedly, tripping over her own feet. She was such a clumsy girl sometimes.

"What do you mean 'maybe'?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"Exactly what it sounds like it means." You reply, grabbing a grape out of the fridge and popping it into your mouth.

"So you didn't fall for me because of my witty charm and amazingly good looks?"

You smile a bit, tilt your head so she doesn't see it.

"For one of those qualities, sure."

You can almost picture the pout on Vada's face as you hear her stomp once. It's a habit she likes to do that when she's mad, stomps once; arms crossed.

She always looks like a six year old that's gotten her favorite toy taken away.

It's the cutest thing.

You don't relent, you enjoy teasing her a bit. Sway slightly on your heels, waiting for her to make the next move.

You half expect her to just walk away and sulk, but it must be your lucky day; because suddenly Vada's wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing her whole body against yours.

"You know what I think? I think you're bluffing." She whispers into your ear, biting your earlobe as she finishes the sentence.

You almost choke on the grape you're eating as you feel her press her lips to your neck; you tilt your head up to give her more access.

She leaves sloppy kisses from the spot behind your ear to your shoulder, and when you think you might be getting lucky; she stops.

"That's fine. I'll get you to admit it."

And then she pulls away, skipping out of the kitchen like nothing had just happened.

You huff as you follow her out.

"God, why did I have to get such a stubborn girlfriend?"

[literaila]

winter blues 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"why are you here?"

"why are you ignoring my calls?"

warnings: seasonal depression (unmentioned but that’s what it is), comfort, avoidance, fluff, peter is nice (mostly) 

a/n: this is so random and so terrible but my computer doesn’t deserve to have this banished away. happy winter!!!! 

*

if you're in a mood--which you're not--then it is perfectly rational. 

and if you've been hanging up the phone, slamming doors, and throwing random objects around your room for the past couple of days--all done as some sort of ritual, of course, a method of which to maintain control--then it's fine. 

your room is a mess and there are more worthwhile, productive things to be done. 

which is probably why you aren't speaking to anyone. 

or, rather, effectively ignoring anyone who even attempts to get a word out toward you. 

when someone knocks on the door you duck under the covers, sure that your presence can't be detected with an extra layer of cotton protecting your body heat. 

when someone texts you, you simply pretend that your phone has died--despite the fifty apps you've got open and the lonely google tab, awaiting curiosity that escaped you weeks ago. 

when you go outside it's with your eyes tilted toward the ground, staring at cement like it's a newfound fascination. 

so, maybe you've fallen victim to the winter blues. maybe you've been consistently listening to one playlist entitled "don't listen to this, you loser," and not really listening at all. 

maybe you've been avoiding this actualization--being that you'd prefer to live in your own disgust rather than face it, thank you very much. 

and maybe, as you consider these missteps, you've got your face smothered into a pillow. 

you do not consider how long it might take you to fall asleep. 

*

there's a knock on your door. 

it is sullen and soft and all too loud for this time of day. four in the afternoon is made for napping, and you have made yourself into someone who no longer answers the door. 

you roll over on the couch, waiting for evading footsteps. 

you are met with only kind silence. 

and then a voice: 

"i know you're in there," he says. "and i know that you can hear me." 

peter knows nothing. 

you have made a point of that. 

you throw your head back, imitating a groan, and wonder how many minutes you'll have to sit through this before he gives up. 

you ridicule yourself as soon as the thought comes; when has peter ever given up on anything? 

"i'm not leaving," he echoes. "i'll knock on mrs. garrison's door and ask for a folding chair." 

you have been avoiding him for the past week. you have been thinking that if he sees you--even just once--he’ll know that something is wrong. that he’ll ask and you’ll have to tell. that he’ll bring up the one thing you’re trying to avoid. 

two things, you guess. 

and because you are sure that peter will make good on his threat, and also because you feel a pin-prick of guilt, you get up off of the couch. you curse your raggedy bones. 

try and recall when you last stood and how long you'll be able to stay standing. 

you go to the door, opening it with a glare. 

"peter," you say, dryly. your voice is rotted with its misuse. 

he simply smiles. "can i come in?" 

"why are you here?" 

"why are you ignoring my calls?" peter challenges, ducking under your arm to walk into your apartment without invitation. 

you try not to wince at everything he might stumble upon. 

like candy wrappers and water bottles and papers that you've crumbled until they're illegible, and others that you've folded into paper airplanes. 

socks and sweaters you've thrown around. a blanket that has served as both a preserver of heat and a tissue. 

dishes everywhere because, coincidently, you've recently forgotten how to use your dishwasher. 

"woah," peter blows out a breath. he turns back to you with raised eyebrows, smile somewhat fallen. 

you frown even deeper and cross your arms. "i'm not ignoring your calls. my phone died." 

peter stares at you. he leans over to grab your phone off of the couch--you'd forgotten it was there--and presses the power button. 

you both watch as it comes to life. it scolds you with notifications. 

"my ringer is off." 

peter just sighs and tosses it back in its forever place. "what's going on?" he asks, softer now, like his knock. 

you stare at his face and wonder again why he's here. why you even bothered answering the door. 

and then his brown lulls you into the earth, where you have no inhibitors. 

you rub a hand over your eyes. "it's just been a long week," you say because at least it's not a lie. 

"did something happen?" 

you shake your head. 

"are you feeling alright?" 

you nod. 

when you look up peter is closer. he is offering you something kind with his face. 

you want to wipe it off and slam the door in his face. 

"hey," he says, whispering to only you. "i missed you. i wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"well, thanks for checking in," you reply, grabbing his arm so you can pull him toward the door. 

peter laughs. "not so fast." he stops both of you with a foot on the floor. 

you scowl at him. 

"it's been a week since i've seen you," peter chides, like you're a child who's forgotten. "i'd like to have an actual conversation." 

you shake his hand off of you. "we're having a conversation." 

"you haven't even asked me about my week." 

you sigh. "okay." you pause for a moment, waiting for him to break. "how was your week, peter?" 

"long," he answers, quickly. "thanks for asking." 

you let a chuckle fall from dry lips. 

he takes another step closer. 

you're used to peter's hands on you--because they almost always are, especially when it's this cold outside and he likes to use you as an excuse--but it feels like more than just touching now. 

when he tilts your chin up with his hands, observing your eyes, you swear that he's actually probing you. 

that if he's the scientist, you are the lab rat being subdued to whatever experiment he's working on. 

"you look tired," he whispers, fingers tracing over sinkhole under eyes. 

"i am." 

peter bites his lip, eyes searching. "are you having trouble sleeping?" 

you can barely shake your head in his hands, but you attempt to anyway. 

peter swallows. "are you sick?" 

"no, peter. i'm okay."

he tilts his head. "you're tired. when was the last time you ate?" he asks. "or took a shower?" 

"i ate this morning." 

peter stares at you. he pokes your side with his iris'. 

"...i think." 

"baby," peter throws his head back. he plays it off as teasing, but you know that he's serious. "you can't just--" 

"i've been sleeping all day," you excuse. "i was gonna eat right before you came over." 

peter gives you another blank stare. 

you sigh at him, refusing to lie any further. 

at least he's fun to look at, you think. at least you're not completely irritated with him. 

"can i make you something instead?" peter asks, playing along. "you can go lay down and i'll bring it to you." 

your brows furrow. "you didn't come over to take care of me." 

"i did, actually. and to make sure that aliens hadn't gotten to you." 

"it's okay. you should tell me about your week," you attempt to put on a smile. "i'll listen real hard." 

"i will," peter promises. "but i want to make sure that you're okay first. you look..." peter shrugs. 

"terrible?" 

he laughs, just a little. brushes some hair from your eyes. "beautiful, obviously. just sad." 

your eyes close involuntarily. something in your chest comes back to life, unwanted and unwarranted. 

you should be able to handle peter saying nice things without wanting to cry. 

and you should be answering your phone and the door without any sort of hesitation. 

peter shakes his head like he can tell what you're thinking. "don't think so hard," he says. "what do you have in the fridge?" 

he gives you another smile. one that is so desperate and pleasing that you almost flinch. 

peter has molded under your darkened fingertips. 

he is shifting, just for you. and despite whatever denial you might feel, you're aware that you've been keeping him at a distance to avoid just that. 

he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen. he knows his way around. "let's go look. but you have to have more than a carton of ice cream because last time--" 

"peter," you whisper, pulling his hand back. 

he pauses. looks down at you. "hmm?" 

"will you--" you swallow. let the guilt fill your mouth. "will you--can you hug me? for just a little bit? i don't, um, i don't--" 

peter is quick to stop you. 

to wrap his strong arms around your back, cradling your head right against his shoulder. he lets you nuzzle into his neck, lets you grab onto his shoulders, and play with the hair on the base of his neck. 

he wraps you in comfort and warmth. 

like a present, he's wrapped you with care. he tells you that you can open it and look whenever you're ready. he whispers little things in your ear, about the things you've missed. 

he's gifted you this much. 

he loves you, he promises. 

and if you'll open the door for anyone, it's peter. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom

[foone]

So Warframe added a "Pom-2" Alternate 1999 computer (that's needed for weird void magic future science wizardry). Thoughts?

Only thing I have that's a sort of question mark is that I don't know of many setups that would have needed a 5 1/4" floppy in 99 (or why it has both the tower and the under monitor unit)

ugh. OKAY, so... the tower and desktop combination is just weird. I have, on one occasion, run a "server" that was two towers, and the original PC supported a DUAL-DESKTOP mode, but both types together? nonsense.

dual monitor was rare but possible in 1999 (win98 added native support), so I think the best interpretation here is that this is actually two computers. maybe the one on the left is missing the keyboard and mouse because it's being used as some kind of server for the other computer? I used a little case like that to run my first linux server, which was also acting as a router for my internal network.

The OS is weird. The icons above the menu-bar look like win98, the dialog box is windows 3.x, the menu-bar icons on the bottom are pure os X (although they remind me of like a web-TV kinda system, like hotkeys for email/internet/etc), but the greyscale is very classic mac system. Actually it kinda reminds me of C64's GEOS, but GEOS was very classic-mac.

Like most CRT-filters, they turned the scanlines up WAY TOO HIGH. No CRT I've ever seen looked that fucking terrible. The monitor buttons are a bit odd: You didn't get monitors with buttons on the front until long after they were all color... but maybe it's a color monitor that's showing a monochrome OS?

as for the floppies: yeah. There are multiple mistakes here.

5.25" in 1999 is just silly. If you still had 5.25" disk drives in 1999, you were intentionally doing some retrocomputing stuff. For reference, around 2001 my PC repair job would specifically ask me to copy data off 5.25" disks, because they didn't have any 5.25" drives anymore, and I was their only tech who did.

The other mistake is that they have THREE floppy drives. so the PC doesn't really support that, natively? You can do some tricks and make it work (The youtuber Tech Tangents did a video on how it could be done), but realistically two was the normal max.

The final mistake is that all the drive activity lights are on. Those are only supposed to be on while the drive is reading or writing... and I don't see any disks in those drives! Let alone a situation that would involve turning all three on at once (I don't think that's even possible on most floppy controllers!)

In fact, the main time you'd end up with the drive lights stuck on like that is when you've installed the drive cable upside down. That ends up with them getting stuck on and non-functional. So this computer looks, to me, like it was put together incorrectly and no one noticed.

I don't believe that font would be on a black & white retro computer. Nope. Too smooth and too big.

There's also a USB icon on that OS: I don't think there's ever been a monochrome OS that supported OS, and looking at that computer case I don't believe that it has USB. Maybe the tower would, but the desktop? no.

That keyboard is off a Gateway 2000 computer. Something like this:

[hobiebrownismygod]

Let's talk about Desi representation again!!

I don't talk about this stuff often but when I do, I have some strong ass opinions

and yes I'm gonna be talking about none other than Pavitr Prabhakar at the end cuz he's just special to me &lt;3

Hollywood is lagging behind on Desi representation

You'd think one of the biggest film industries in the world would be able to represent us properly, considering the fact that we make up the largest group of South-Asian Americans and the second largest group of Asian-Americans in the US, but instead-

Western Television forces Indians to conform to harmful stereotypes

Some of the most popular Desi characters on screen are Raj Koothrappali from the Big Bang Theory, Devi Vishwakumar from Never Have I Ever and Kelly Kapoor from the Office.

Indian men are almost always portrayed as robotics engineers and computer whizzes, but with terrible social intellect, making them seem like awkward nerds.

Indian women are almost always portrayed as "whitewashed", or wanting to appear more western, with zero understanding of their own culture or language along with an unrelenting need for attention from white friends/colleagues.

These are both based on stereotypes that Indian culture is "toxic" and "too traditional" and that Indians are only interested in studies.

Most Desi characters in western media have stories that are solely based around their ethnicity and/or racial stereotypes.

British television actually showcases a lot more representation than Hollywood does

I was watching Polite Society, a movie starring two Pakistani characters as the main leads, and there was a dance scene where both the leads are wearing traditional desi attire. My mom turned over, looked at me, and asked, "Is this Hollywood? It can't be."

And she was right. It's a British movie with British-Pakistani actors.

The reason she didn't believe that it could've been Hollywood was because the dresses the two leads were wearing were traditional and beautiful and the song playing in the background was authentic Hindi music, not some random westernized DJ version of it.

A Hollywood movie would've never dressed up their Desi actors in actually flattering attire (*cough cough the Patel twins from Harry Potter) or have used real, popular Desi music in the background.

You see my point?

It is so uncommon to see well-thought-out Desi representation in TV nowadays, where to see real diversity we have to watch movies made by the same country that colonized us.

Ironic.

British movies/shows with desi leads have far better South Asian representation than anything I've seen in Hollywood recently.

The Hollywood movies starring Indian leads, like Slumdog Millionaire or Bend it like Beckham were filmed in the UK, and because they were filmed in the UK, they had fantastic South Asian representation.

Not only does Hollywood refuse to create shows and movies about real problems that South Asians face, but they also don't cast South Asian actors in good roles.

When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that wasn't a walking stereotype? When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that was a genuine part of the story rather than just comedic relief or a random smart kid in the classroom?

Not often, right?

Me, personally, I didn't grow up with a lot of South Asian characters or actors in shows/movies that I watched. In fact, every time someone even close to my skin color showed up on TV, I was on the edge of my seat because it was just so rare to see it.

This is why representation matters.

You've heard about all the young girls with braids being so excited when the new little mermaid with Halle Bailey came out. Well, us desi kids wanted that too.

I wanted to see a Telugu speaking girl with wavy hair and dark skin who would wear traditional clothing to Desi get-togethers and parties, go to the temple with her family, eat vegetarian Indian meals, etc...

I wanted to see a character who was a representation of me and my experiences as an Indian-American. I wanted to see a character that was at least a representation of Indians or just South Asians in general.

Instead, we were given characters that ridiculed their own culture, were extreme stereotypes and furthered the existence of casual racism in western society today. So many Desi kids experience small acts of racism on a daily basis because people have been so desensitized to the existence of these stereotypes.

Telling South Asians that their culture is a joke and feeding non-asian children media which pokes fun at other cultures is harmful, not only to us South Asians but also communities that could end up being targeted next.

Pavitr Prabhakar; Representation Matters

If you've been following me or if we're mutuals, you probably know I have a tiny obsession with Pavitr Prabhakar. But why?

Because of all the reasons I just listed.

There are few South Asian characters us Desis can look up to these days, and Pavitr Prabhakar is one of the maybe two or three characters who have great writing, magnificent representation, and overall a fun vibe.

He's likable, funny, smart and best of all, unapologetically Desi.

He's just like all the other side characters, with a little bit of his own culture mixed in. He's not being shoved down our throats to further an agenda about fake diversity, he's not a walking stereotype and best of all, he was designed by Indian creators.

He's refreshing and exciting to follow in a world full of a demand for half-hearted representations and the people who created him were obviously putting their hearts and souls into it.

He's awoken a love for Indian culture amongst, not only Desi children themselves but also among westerners who, prior to this, had thought of India as a "3rd world" country, because that's the agenda that Hollywood pushes onto many South Asian countries today.

WE LOVE PAVITR PRABHAKAR!!

This was kinda all over the place but I just had to get this off my chest &lt;3

Sources:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/06/10/discrimination-against-indian-americans-happens-more-than-you-might-think/

[kairiscorner]

Throwback to the very first thing i requested from u bc i think it’s been over a month HAHAHA

For ‘i’m stuck with you’ (art student x stem student miggy) EXCEEEPPPTTT make the reader a english/langlit major, or just really good at writing (bc i love my writers)

Okay, we have established that reader is fucking terrible at math (i am them, they are me)

But how about miguel needing help with essays? Because sci students are lowkey kinda bad with essays

Cause yeah, even though i hc that miggy probably has really, really good grammar, when writing essays? Nah, that mf is all over the place.

Like he has the ideas, but he lacks the creativity and writing skill to get them onto paper

(Not a request, but write it if u want to :D)

SHIEEEEEETTTTTT i am forever in love with college miggy <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i'm stuck with you. — miguel o'hhara x reader pt. 2 (college dorm mates au)

summary: it should come as no surprise to anybody that miguel o'hara was extremely good at running his mouth off and pretentious when it came to grammar and spelling... but making him write an opinionated essay, or a book report? oh, you're stumping him. luckily for him, he has a super adorable, english-smart dorm mate; unluckily for him, however, you can't put up with his annoying, whiny ass about how "boring" all this writing seems to be.

pairing: college!dorm mate!miguel o'hara x college!dorm mate!reader

genre: fluff <333

word count: 965

author's note: when is it my turn to have a cocky, math and science smarts stem boyfriend that sucks ass at creative writing ,,, i'm alr the writer gf, universe, ano ba 😭😭😭

he stared at the flashing cursor on the document he was supposed to be writing his book report for the english class he had to take. he sighed and folded his arms over his chest in frustration, his eyebrows crinkling as all he could do was sigh again at the lack of ideas swirling in his head. "this is why i took genetics, nobody needs to write reflections on alleles or why DNA is shaped as a double helix... this is idiotic." he muttered under his breath as he forcefully hit the backspace key repeatedly and sighed for the third time.

you soon arrived back to your dorm after attending all your classes for the day and was surprised to witness your so-called "genius" dorm mate slump over his desk, his forehead pressed down against the surface as his laptop remained open and the document remained empty–even emptier than before, actually. you walked over to miguel, half concerned and half unfazed, ironically. you had yearned to see the day when his ego would break, but unfortunately, you weren't there to see the fall–hence you drew barely any enjoyment out of seeing him all stumped.

"hey, genius, what's wrong?" you asked him in a partially sarcastic and partially worried voice, with miguel groaning as he thumped his forehead lightly against the surface of his desk. "words are hard." he muttered. you raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled lightly. "words are hard? wow, and you can piece together a bunch of letters and greek symbols together... either you're speaking an alien language of incomprehensible numbers, or you're just good at everything but linguistics." "the latter." miguel mumbled all muffled and groan again.

you chuckled and moved closer to him, practically hovering over him as you looked at the very blank document before you. "what's this supposed to be?" "an... essay." "an essay has words, you realize that, right?" you asked him sarcastically with a smile. he scowled at you as he sat up a bit from his computer chair. "it's... it's loading." "nah, i know exactly when words are loading, i'm around documents a lot–you've got nothing on it." you pointed out with a snicker as miguel rolled his eyes.

"well, if you're so good at this, why not you do it?" he asked you with narrowed eyes. you rolled your eyes and placed your arms over his shoulders, bringing your fingertips to the keyboard to type for him. you were in such close proximity to miguel that he couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of your forearms brushing against his shoulders and neck occasionally, and the scent of your perfume filling his nose. he felt a bit flustered at the feeling and scents he was picking up from you.

you tilted your head slightly. "what is it, mig? care to tell me what your essay's supposed to be about?" you asked him, snapping him out of his trance as he pushed his glasses back up on his face and cleared his throat. "it's about... my thoughts around my favorite person. i know, pretty rudimentary, it's a question for a first grader. but the problem is... i can't even begin to describe that 'favorite person' of mine. the thoughts are pouring in, the words just... don't come as fluidly." miguel admitted as he shrugged.

that was no problem for you, however–you had the ability to come up with the most effective and creative ways to write feelings, thoughts, and ideas out with ease; you were just the person miguel needed. you articulated his thoughts out on the virtual document for him, listening to him patiently describe his favorite person in such layman terms; and you, with your very eloquent and unique way of delivering his scrambled thoughts, wrote him a 7 page essay in that one sitting. all he did was open and close his mouth, speak in such simple terms to describe his favorite person–stuttering, stammering, repeating words involuntarily due to his limited vocabulary for adjectives that could properly describe that person, expanded by your own broad vocabulary aiding him in drawing a picture of this favorite person of his that... felt familiarly unfamiliar, in an uncanny way.

you two finished the joint work you were doing, and miguel's mouth hung open in surprise at how quickly you could type and how you never repeated a single adjective to describe his favorite person–and especially at how long the work you wrote was. "no... way." he muttered aloud as he rolled the mouse's cursor all the way down to the seventh page, his eyes bulging from their sockets as he took in every word you wrote for him. "my professor's not gonna believe i wrote this." he gushed as you chuckled. "is it that bad?" you asked him with a shy smile as he looked at you in disbelief.

"bad? this is spectacular, beyond everything i ever expected–thank you." he expressed his thanks to you as you smiled wider and shrugged. "dunno, i... think i could've elaborated more on paragraph–" "oh, please, if you elaborate any more, my professor's got fail me on the spot, they'll know i didn't write it by then. it's beautiful, it... really encompasses how i feel about my favorite person. thank you..." he said as he grinned up at you brightly. you had witnessed a side of miguel that no one had ever seen before... a grateful side to the cocky, arrogant genius of this college; and you swore, that from the corner of your eye... a hint of a genuinely happy, adoring miguel was staring back at you through those hazel brown orbs of his that peered into the deep recesses and depths of his soul, of his heart.... have you finally figured out who his favorite person is?

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @melovetitties @arachnoia @luvstarrstruck @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0

©kairiscorner (don't steal my work, i'll steal your kneecaps !)

[cringecompanionapologist]

I Found a Doctor Who RPG Sourcebook and I'm Making It Your Problem

Actually, I found several. It seems that there is a sort of Doctor Who tabletop RPG with sourcebooks for each Doctor that include ready-made character sheets for the Doctors, companions, and major players in each televised story.

I could look into all of them, if I really wanted to, but the thing is, my computer is nearly a decade old, slowly dying on me, and hates screenshots, so taking and storing a fuckton of screenshots of absolutely everything isn't something I can do. So, I'm just pulling a few interesting bits from the Second and Fifth Doctor Sourcebooks. There's no structure to this beyond me thinking "I wonder what their character sheet looks like".

So, the Second Doctor stuff is not much at all. I got the Doctor himself.

I should probably note that I don't have much experience with tabletop RPGs, and none with this one in particular, so I only half know how to read these. This screenshot isn't even very good. I'm working off a free site with a terrible zoom function and I couldn't get the whole thing. The basics are that characters have a set of six Stats, a bunch of Skills, some traits that give them special strengths and weaknesses, and some basic character information. The Second Doctor's got a lot of stuff, some of which even gets explained.

I've deduced that there's probably a separate manual for the basics of how the game works, what the Stats mean, what the Skills do, etc. So a lot of Why These Numbers Are What They Are questions go unanswered.

Any way, this screenshot sucks so much that I can't bare the sight of it any longer, so we're moving on to the next one. Here's Jamie:

Wow! You can actually see things this time.

Most of the stat numbers don't go above 5, from what I can tell. So we can assume that Jamie's strongest stats are Coordination, Presence, and Strength, without any stat being too weak.

The skills are more mixed.

Athletics most likely refers to physical skills, Convince is persuasion, Craft is making stuff, I think, Fighting needs no explanation, Knowledge is...well...knowing stuff, Marksman is shooting/throwing accuracy, Medicine is obviously medical knowledge, Science is...look a lot of these seem like special subcategories of knowledge that are self-explainatory, Subterfuge I think covers "rogue skills" like spying and lock-picking, Survival is the sort of things Boy Scouts learn probably, Technology is computers and technobabble, Transport is driving and the like.

So, when it comes to strengths, Jamie is physically fit, but can't swim. He is very good at fighting because he's a male companion in the 60s that that was like at least 75% of their job. Marksman is apparently based in knife-throwing ability. Subterfuge...well, if you've seen The Enemy of the World, Jamie is actually a pretty good spy.

As for weaknesses, Jamie knows nothing about any STEM field.

There's also a little number for Technology Level. I've seen this number go as high as 7, but the 18th and 19th century characters seem to be placed at a 4. I didn't get a screenshot but Victoria is the same, despite the whole Industrial Revolution thing.

Then we've got some personality traits and such that effect things. Jamie apparently gets points for being attractive and brave, as well as for being accepted anywhere in time and space no matter what he's wearing. There's really not a whole lot to analyze here.

Now, the entire reason I did Second Doctor stuff was because the villains get character sheets and I wanted to see Salamander's. I added the Doctor and Jamie to pretend I had any other reason to be there.

I took this screenshot without using the zoom and it looks pretty good actually.

It turns out that those skill numbers can go above 5 as Salamander scores a 6 in Ingenuity and Presence, as well as a 5 in Resolve. Almost all of his stats are pretty high. As an RPG villain, he's a boss fight.

Instead of a full chart of skills, which only Doctors and Companions get, Salamander just gets a list. His higher points here are Convince at 5, Knowledge at 4, Subterfuge at 5, and Technology at 5. Convince and Subterfuge are his more manipulative skills as a politician, while Knowledge and Technology are because he did, in fact, invent the technology he got popular for inventing. His Tech Level, at a 5, is somewhere between Jamie and Victoria, and some of the more futuristic aliens. That does make sense for the early 21st century, even a slightly more high-tech 21st century than the one that actually happened.

As for Traits, a lot of them give him bonus skills that are actually explained, such as the ability to invent gadgets, resist mind control, menace people into doing what he wants and get even bigger bonuses in Technology and Convince situations, being a tech genius for his time period and a respected authority figure.

So, cool stuff.

The Fifth Doctor stuff I got is a bit more extensive. We'll start with the Doctor himself.

The good news is that it's a full screenshot. The bad news is that it's very hard to read. We can see a very high Ingenuity stat, because he's the Doctor. There's a Tech Level 10, because I'm guessing that's Level Time Lord.

I do have enough info to compare his Skill number to the Second Doctors.

Athletics has risen from 1 to 4 because of all the cricket. Convince drops from a 5 to a 3, because nobody listens to Five while Two was fairly good at getting people to listen to him. Fighting has risen from absolute 0 to 2, which isn't much but it's literally something. You can see a lot of numbers improve slightly as the Doctor has learned more things over time, like Medicine going from 1 to 3.

I actually looked over four different companions this time. We'll go in order of introduction. Here's Adric.

His Tech Level is confusing in the blurry screenshot. But, as for other stuff, his fast healing and ability to control the TARDIS a little are noted, though the reality warping of Block Transfer Computation isn't because it's too damn complicated and has it's own system.

Adric's skills in general are pretty low, but they don't seem to be too unfair. These sourcebooks started coming out around 2013, when the fandom's aggressive Adric hatred had started to wind down, possibly as people realized that all the season 19 companions had writing problems and the confused performances you often get with confused writing, but Tegan and Nyssa stuck around longer so improvements could be made, and Big Finish started doing damage control with them earlier on, especially in Nyssa's case.

I'm actually surprised Adric's Athletics score is as high as it is. His Science score being only a 3 and Knowledge 2 confused me at first, but when I thought about it, it a makes sense. Adric knew a lot about mathematics but basically nothing anything else, even other STEM fields. Nyssa had to tell him what photosynthesis is, which I learned in elementary school science classes. Between this extreme focus on a single subject, lack of socials skills, and somewhat stilted speech and movement, I think I like Adric as much as I do because all this stuff feels like autism and I was an autistic teenager when I first saw him.

He also gets good Subterfuge skills because he can pick locks, do sleight of hand tricks, and overall has a good skill set that was rarely put to use.

And now, Nyssa:

Tech Level 7 explains where Traken is. We'll get to compare several different planets I guess.

Nyssa gets a higher science stat, with an emphasis on biochemistry. She has a more diverse STEM skill set than Adric. Other than that, I don't have much to report here. The fact that she's upper class seems to affect her ability to interact with people who aren't. As you will see, Turlough somehow isn't given this problem despite it being more obvious with him than with Nyssa.

But before that, there's Tegan.

Technology level 5 for the 1980s. These tech levels seem to cover a lot of historical ground. 1746 and 1866 are both in 4 and 1980 and 2018(futuristic version) are both in 5. I wonder what separates these levels from one another.

Tegan is considered fairly ordinary, not a fighter like Jamie nor a scientist like Nyssa, so her stats are kinda bad. Looking at her traits, her skills seem to include running and screaming, with points off for being impulsive, argumentative, and loud. I don't think the people who wrote this liked Tegan very much.

Anyway, of course there's Turlough.

Trion is apparently Tech Level 7, the same as Traken. So that turned out to not be very interesting.

His main strengths are in Convince and Technology. He can half-understand the TARDIS at times and appears to be good at lying to people. The fact that he doesn't get running and screaming in his traits and Tegan does is sexism. He also gets to be charming, though not attractive like Nyssa or Tegan. Men can get this trait, since Jamie did. I think he's commonly seen as average-looking.

Also the fact that he's seen as lucky with all the shit he went through is hilarious.

Finally, as a bit of a bonus, Captain Wrack from Enlightenment has a character sheet. How do you even make stats for an Eternal?

Many of her stats are surprisingly low for basically a low-level god. Though she's got a high Knowledge score and a Tech Level of 12, since Eternals go beyond Time Lords, though it's more power than technology with them, isn't it? Do we just not know how to factor this in?

So when it comes to these tech levels:

18th-19th century Earth = 4

20th-21st century Earth = 5

Traken and Trion = 7

Time Lords = 10

Eternals = 12

That's all I got for now. I hope you enjoyed this bit of fussing over meaningless numbers.

[ihaechans]

Reminiscing || Mark Lee

PAIRING ▸ Mark Lee x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ best friends to lovers, big fluff

WARNINGS/CONTENT ▸ profanity, sweet Mark, Y/n character development is real, literally just sickening fluff...

SUMMARY ▸Time flies. Especially with best friend and nerdy ride or die Mark Lee. Reminiscing on the rooftop leads to foreign emotions and forgotten memories to rise to the surface, and the obvious tension between you two can no longer be avoided.

WORD COUNT▸1.7k

A/N▸ Head empty.... just boyfriend Mark Lee. (Dead serious this has been in my drafts for 8 months.)

ALSOOO this was originally supposed to be smut but I decided to take it out and make it a cute fluffy story because it’s my first fic back 😭

You couldn’t accept that there could be other men out there named Mark Lee. The idea of someone having a completely different look and persona than the one of your best friend completely baffled you.

In your heart, your Mark was the greatest one. The only one you truly needed to keep going in life as well.

You were always one of the castaways at your school. Unknown. Boring. Friendless. It was always something you were used to.

It wasn’t exactly bad though. You actually quite enjoyed having so much time to focus on your studies since you were never invited to parties or friendly hangouts, but there was always this feeling. A feeling of loneliness and despair.

In complete solitude, you would study from dusk til dawn. Barely even glancing away from your computer screen throughout the day. The only time you would bother to check your phone was to see if your mom had texted you, which you admitted, was kind of humiliating.

No one ever would have thought an accidental text to the wrong number would start the strange friendship between you and Mark Lee, one of the more popular members of one of the biggest frats on campus.

Unknown Number:  Yo Jaeminnnn! Just got your new number man :) It’s mark btw

You: This isn’t Jaemin. Wrong number “Mark”.

Unknown Number: My bad. Why is my name in quotes though? I promise I’m the real Mark dude :(

You: You can be some weirdo trying to get my phone information by pretending to be one of my classmates. Who knows if you’re really Mark?

Unknown Number: I do… because I am the real Mark 🤦‍♂️ who is this anyway so I can save your number?

You: It’s y/n. You shouldn’t need to save my contact anyways. We won’t ever text again after this.

Mark: I like to be friendly with everyone just in case. Maybe you should try it instead of accusing me of being a criminal when you don’t even know me 😁

You: Goodbye Mark. You’re wasting my precious study time and you’re kind of annoying :)

You couldn’t imagine how any of your fellow students looked so relaxed and at ease with the endless piles of work. It was completely mind boggling.

Mark and his friends were those sort of people, and you were always jealous of them. How they continued to stay on top of assignments? You would never know.

“You were such an asshole when we first met.” His presence catches you off guard, but you can recognize that chuckle from anywhere. Silently turning your body to face him, you smile, dismissing his brutally honest comment.

“Well. I never knew having friends could be so…”

He finished your thought for you, “Life changing? Exciting? Eye opening?”

“Mhm.” You hum, mindlessly patting the spot next to you on the balcony, expecting him to plop down in the exact spot any second now.

“I admit, I was a complete bitch for no reason.” You stare at the sunset as you speak, knowing that Mark is simply listening in. “I was jealous of you. You were so effortlessly funny and friendly. Everyone knew and loved you, plus you got exceptionally good grades.”

Honestly, you don’t know why you were admitting to any of this. It made you feel as if you were a terrible person. Hopefully mark didn’t see you that way.

You sigh, “I wanted to be you. It was so unfair how I practically slaved away all day and night while you and your friends were out partying every other day yet still managing to pass. I wanted that to be me.”

You stare at Mark now, waiting to him to respond to such a presumptuous confession.

He was smiling, a smile full of love and kindness. He huffs out a laugh, you should’ve known he could never hate you. He could never hate anyone, no matter how wrong they could treat him.

“Can I admit something too?” He’s staring straight into your eyes now, a serious look taking over his features. “That day, I didn’t know it was your number, but-“ he clears his throat, bracing himself for the things he was about to admit to.

“I was interested in you before we became friends. You seemed pretty chill, but I never approached you since you always seemed like you wanted nothing to do with the human species. You were also really pretty…”

You ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach, and hopefully Mark couldn’t see the slight blush that appeared on your face.

He lays down onto his back, laughing with his arms behind his head for support. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t give up on you?” He teases, poking you in the side with his elbow gently.

You smile and hit him on the shoulder playfully, rolling over onto your side to look at him. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t block you as soon as you texted me?”

He laughs even harder now, admitting that he found it funny how you seemed so intimidating over text but in person you were completely different.

“You wouldn’t even remember me if I hadn’t kept texting though,” he responds, ending the sentence with another chuckle.

“Wish I blocked you sooner so I didn’t start warming up to your annoying ass.” You speak with a serious expression, but one glance at Mark is all it takes for a laugh to force its way out, his own laughter causing you to giggle even harder.

“God, I love you Y/n. Seriously. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

There it is. “Best friend”. All hope for you was over. You’ve officially been friend-zoned.

You ponder for a moment, thinking about all that he’s done for you and considering how easily things could’ve been different if you weren’t such a jealous bitch in the beginning.

Your friendship could’ve been so much stronger by now if you had accepted his kindness from the start, and you mentally scold yourself for it.

“Say it back.” He orders, perking up from his relaxed position and scooting closer to your body in between every passing second. “Say it back before it’s too late.”

“Why should I? Admitting I wanted to be you is already embarrassing enough. My embarrassment level is already full for today, tell me again tomorrow and maybe I’ll answer.”

“Alright then,” he tsks, “Guess I’ll just have to tickle you until you admit you love me back.”

Your eyes widen in genuine terror. You absolutely hated getting tickled and promised you would personally file a complaint to the police if Mark ever even thought about tickling you.

“Mark. Stop.”

“Say it back, idiot.”

Hissing through your teeth, you prepare for the worst. You’d rather just tell him you love him back than endure his attacks of merciless tickles and teasing.

Conceding defeat, you blink at him and fight the embarrassing grin that wants to appear on your lips. “I love you too Mark.” Hearing yourself say those words out loud almost has you jumping up and down with embarrassment and sending shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, trying to stay in control of your emotions.

He smiles, feeling content with your words. You’ve been friends for so long, and now you’ve finally mustered up the courage to tell him how you feel.

Countless times, he’s told you he loves you, but you’ve never said it back until now. You felt like a brand new person.

There’s a comfortable beat of silence before he speaks up, distrusting the moment of pure silence.

“Isn’t the sunset so pretty?” He murmurs, eyes completely focused on something else.

“Mark. You’re not even looking at the sunset,” you laugh, seeming to be completely clueless at what he was hinting at.

He chuckles at your ignorance before taking your hands into his and looking you in the eye. “Y/n. You’re pretty.” Your breath catches in your throat, “I like you. I thought it would be so obvious by now. I’ve been hinting at it for ages but you’re just so clueless it seems like this is the only way you would ever realize.”

He grins sheepishly, wincing as he awaits your reaction.

The only thing you can do is stare at him wide eyed, jaw almost completely on the floor at the sudden confession. “You like me?”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, scooting even closer to you, his eyes gazing straight at your lips.

He moves forward, cupping your face with his hands so he can finally attempt to kiss you.

Mark had no idea why he was feeling so bold in that moment. This situation could either go extremely terrible or surprisingly well.

He stops before his lips touch yours, giving you a second to push him away if you really needed to. You lightly grasp his side and he smiles before connecting your lips together.

It feels like heaven, almost like you two were meant to be. You wonder why you hadn’t done this sooner, and then remember that you were the one being so blinded by friendship that you dismissed his obvious flirting as teasing all this time.

All of Marks emotions embrace him as he backs away, warmth and comfort echoing between the two of you. Mark is a mess, face red and hands jittering uncontrollably and you find it quite amusing.

“I cant believe I actually just did that…” Mark is so overwhelmed as he retreats, barely able to keep his composure as he nearly fumbles with his words.

Your cheeks flush with the realization that you had just kissed Mark. You struggle to keep a grin from forming on your face. “Me neither…” you mumble, bringing a hand up to your lips, still shocked.

Mark smiles at you with adoration, mustering up the courage to finally say what he’s been holding back for the last few years. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

He looks into your eyes in anticipation, barely able to contain his eagerness as he awaits for an answer.

“Mark, are you seriously asking me that right now?” You laugh, watching as marks smile fades away slightly in confusion. “How could I ever reject you?”

A sweet smile forms on your face, and the look of confusion soon leaves marks features as you kiss him again, making sure he understands that you are in fact, now his girlfriend.

[chansbabygirlsstuff]

Just a bet Chapter 7

HII lovelies here is chapter 7 please enjoy it!

warnings: fluff really cute

Words: 1k

"Are you avoiding me?"  he tells me 

"What? no, I'm not" I shift uncomfortably trying to hide the unexpected news I just got told about him

"Then why are you canceling all our plans and not even looking at me? did I do something wrong?" he asked now stopping walking and turning to face me, so I turned to him 

"Look, I just have a terrible eye infection and I just don't feel comfortable with people seeing it, and it hurts awful, I don't want to seem weird being around you with big ass sunglasses on right?" you try defending yourself 

"ok, come with me" he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the parking lot to his car, I get in with no context thinking how easily I can get kidnaped in life

"where are we going?" he starts the car and gets out of the uni "You'll see" he sighs frustrated 

he parks in a mini station mall where I can see restaurants, boutiques, ice cream shops, and more, I get excited as  I see the ice cream shop going straight to it, but before I enter it Chan grabs my arm and pulls me to the right, "here, we can go there later" he pulls me to a pharmacy

"hello what can I help you with?" the kind lady says  "Hi can we get a cream for an eye infection, please," he says kindly as  I freeze,  I didn't know this was coming. "of course, I will need to see how infected it is soi can refer you to an antibiotic" she smiles looking at him 

I look down as I would not like him to see my bruised eye, I look at him and he pressures me "Don't worry I won't say anything to anyone" he smiles. I take my glasses off and look at the woman. She nodded "Sweetie that is not an infection, that is a bruise caused by a hit" Chan didn't look at me respecting my decisions. Still, when she said it was a bruise he grabbed my face and started examining it, his eyes widened when he saw my eye "But we do have some cream for the swollen area and the pain" she typed something in the computer "We have x product for the swollen area and for the pain..." she searches in the computer "do you have any pain in your eye?" she looks at me "yes I do have lots of pain" I nod and look down feeling guilty about lying to him.

"we will take both, please," he says taking out his wallet "Oh, don't worry Chan I will pay for it," you said putting your glasses back on and taking out your wallet "Don't, I come here to buy you something for your eye so let me" he places your wallet down and he takes out his card to pay

"Thank you have a nice day " She smiles and we leave towards the car, when we both shut the door only silence can be heard 

"Who did this to you?" he tries to say calmly way trying to concentrate looking directly into the road while the car is still parked 

"I -umm" you have trouble telling the truth 

"When did this happen? and why didn't you tell me anything?" 

"I- uh it happened on Saturday" You feel scared not knowing what he is going to do 

"Who did this to you Y/n? I need to know" his worried eyes look back at you 

"my dad" you murmur to him looking down, you never had someone who truly worried about you when this used to happen 

"why the fuck would he hit you?" he looked at you with an unbelievable expression on his face

"Because I came home late last Friday" you murmur not wanting him to feel that this was his fault 

"he hit you becuase you were out late, but aren't you 23?" he looks more shocked and angry than ever

"I'm used to it, ever since my mom died he has been hitting me for any excuse he can find, so don't worry about me," I say looking out the window

"We need to do something about it Y/n I can't let this happen again what the actual fuck is wrong with him?" he starts the car

"I already tried everything and I have nowhere to go, the police won't do anything about it"

"Why don't you move out?" he asks you "My job doesn't allow me with my low income, and trust me if I could I would"

"mhm let me think..." he stays quiet

"don't worry about me Chan I swear it's fine, actually thank you for worrying about me" I express my gratitude towards him  

"look my sister is looking for a roommate, how about you pay the 20% each month and I will pay for the rest and I will talk to her ok?"

"no Chan please, it's fine, that's practically living for free" you saw feeling flustered about his request 

"Another option is living with me, but I don't know how you are going to feel about that" he looks at me

"Chan don't worry about me, I don't want to be a burden to you" 

"ok... just... please call me if he ever does the same thing again" I nod and he smiles at me 

he drives me home and says goodbye to me "Please know that I'm here if you need me ok?"

I nod and wave "Thank you for everything again" he smiles and waves back 

I get inside the house and run towards my room and lock the door, throwing myself in the bed I cover my face in my pillow kicking my feet "Oh my God he is such a bitch" you said giggling and kicking your feet  for making you feel butterflies in your tummy

You get up take a shower, do your skincare, and apply both creams around your eye

you lay back down grabbing a bag of chips in your top drawer and keeping snacks there so you don't have to get out of your room 

you grab your phone and open your contact to Chris's phone number 

                             -Thank you for the cream Chris it helped calm the pain around my eye 

 -ofc Y/nie text me if you need anything else:) 

                                                   - I will thank you again, Chris, good night 

-goodnight Y/n 

you put your phone back down feeling that crazy feeling on your stomach smiling to yourself, but then remember what Mina said about Sana and Chris last time, oh great there goes one of the best days ever.

hey lovelies I hope you enjoyed chapter 7 remember that i post every Friday at 6pm CTS and if you want to be on the tag list please tell me

Taglist: @stayceebs97 @foivestarrsketchez @salfetkablog @strayywayy