#we still live together but he hasn’t talked to me yet

[evilvvitch]

.

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[visionsofcarnality]

can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵

i like the way you think…

Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!

Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.

Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.

Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.

Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.

But when he takes Viagra-

You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.

I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.

Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.

You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.

When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.

Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?

Speaking of groceries…

If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.

He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.

Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.

“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.

Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”

Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.

Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.

Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.

Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.

That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.

This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.

Like, I cannot stress that enough.

If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.

His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.

Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.

But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.

You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.

But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.

When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.

this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!

[kafka-ish]

Being Art and Patrick’s roommate… OMG

I feel like you all have known each other since high school or maybe you and Art have roomed together in college and Patrick was always hanging around your guys’ dorm so after you graduate you decide why not? It’s comfortable. You all know each other. But you don’t realize how fucking awkward it is until Patrick’s roaming around shirtless in his boxers. Eating cold pizza for breakfast straight out of the fridge with a left over beer to go with it.

You get up one morning and see him lounging around the living room like he owns the place and you’re just like seriously? And he’s just like yeah, deal with it.

“Yeah but, Ren and Stimpy?” He wishes you were ogling him even though he has a girlfriend who hates the fact that you live with him but it’s fine because so does Art. Not like anything’s gonna happen…

And, yeah, part of you also wants to eyeball his abs and v-line and jaw. Not to mention the bulge that’s poking out of his—

But it’s only natural. But he’s basically your older brother so you tell him to go put on a shirt.

“Sorry, babe, laundry day.” Or sometimes he’ll say, “you wish you were lucky enough to get a paid subscription to this.” And you try to pass it off. Hope he doesn’t see you blush or brush his skin when you try to take the remote from him.

“You should be more like Art.” He hates when you say this to him. He doesn’t know what the hell that means; if you mean it or not. Patrick’s always been good with girls but he can never pick up on your sarcasm or when you’re being deadpan because the only interactions you have are petty fights over the food you had saved, the dishes, how messy he is. Basically your whole living dynamic. And you never chastise Art. Sometimes you make a point to tell him how much you love the way he organized the cabinets while Patrick’s on the couch watching re-runs of shitty reality tv he’s not even that interested in. You thank Art for the fact that you never have to pick up after him. Say stuff like at least someone got dressed today.

Patrick just rolls his eyes. Says he’s going to the gym at one so he’ll be out of your hair or okay mom or since when are you in charge?

And as much as Patrick tries not to let it get to him, it does. He confides to Art about this. “Dude… I think she’s pissed.”

“Yeah, well… You can be messy sometimes, Patrick.”

“I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She lives with you.”

And even though Art’s sworn to secrecy, he tells you anyway. He can’t keep his mouth shut and he wants to make things right. You guys are roommates.

You’re in your room. Art’s inside you and this is the only thing that boy hasn’t told anyone about yet. It’s just casual sex. It started in college but it just kept… happening.

“Patrick thinks you hate him.”

“What? I never said that.” Art shrugs, still shoving his cock inside you.

“That’s what he told me.” He groans. Grips the flesh of your hips. Thrusts become deeper and his forehead bumps yours. “Fuck. You’re, like, tighter each time we do this.”

“I think that’s just a myth.”

He reaches the hilt of your pussy. Moans loudly when he finishes. Stays inside for a minute.

He pulls out and his blonde curls flop onto the pillow next to yours. Messy, sweaty, spreading out in every direction. His breath is heavy. “Anyway, I think you should talk to him.”

“What would I say?”

“Actually, maybe don’t say anything.”

Your face makes a confused look at the ceiling, contemplating. Art sees this. Kisses your cheek.

“Want me to go down on you?”

[disneyprincemuke]

too young to know it gets better * fem!driver

there has to be someone out there that can snap her out of it, right?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: HI AFTER THIS THERE's one left and i promise that's not AS angsty as this one and i'm thinking of adding one or two more bonus chapters?? lolsie but idk we'll see!

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

rockster has disconnected.

that’s the notification that had brought logan and oscar together some random afternoon. they stand in the confinements of the elevator in silence, not a single word uttered since they’d met one another in the lobby after sending a simple text out.

but they know what they’re here for.

logan hadn’t moved that fast in concern for her, dating back 3 years ago when mick had supposedly texted him about marrying his crush in vegas. he had sprinted 2 blocks from his apartment building to hers in the span of a couple of minutes.

and oscar had been running errands with lily prior to getting the notification. when she’d noticed her boyfriend staring down at his phone with distress all over his face, she’d immediately pushed him towards the exits to attend to the girl. she’s also a close friend, so she notices.

if you asked oscar, he’s been worried for months. but with her tendency to keep rejecting his initiation for small talk, it’s difficult to try and find the words to try and pry a confession out of her. but this disconnection from an application they’ve had for years raises red flags that they didn’t even know were possible.

“we’re not overreacting, right?” oscar mutters as they step out of the elevator at her floor.

logan nods, lips pressed into a thin line as he counts the steps he takes down the familiar hallway. “she dropped kidnapper off at my apartment like a week and a half ago. i haven’t heard from her since.”

oscar turns to him. “you’ve heard from her?”

“barely,” logan grimaces with a shake of his head, eyes trained on the hallway. “i invited her in for snacks but she declined and left immediately.”

“i haven’t seen or heard from her since the summer break began.”

“she hasn’t been picking up my calls either.” he turns to oscar. “that’s weird, right?”

logan almost wants to laugh at their conversation. if he didn’t consider that their best friend was the person at stake, he would have laughed the loudest he’s ever. they simply sounded like they were answering one another for copium in hopes that their best friend hasn’t lost her mind just yet.

when he unlocks the door to her apartment, they’re taken aback by the sight they’re immediately greeted with. and for logan, it’s whiplash — he’s only ever had fond memories of this apartment. to find it absolutely thrashed almost breaks his heart a little bit.

in his mind, he can hear the girl always scolding him for being messy when they were living together.

the curtains, typically letting the sun seep into the room, are drawn in to block the light out. the floor is littered with her things and there’s a chair toppled over on the ground. a picture frame on the entertainment system beneath the tv is faced down against the counter and if logan can recall perfectly, it’s their picture from when they were kids.

“what happened in here?” oscar mutters, stepping around the items of stray pieces of clothing on the ground. “should we call someone? do you think someone broke into her apartment?”

“let me call her and see if she’s alright,” logan sighs, fishing for his phone in his back pocket.

he hadn’t expected the situation to be so concerning. have they really let her run rampant on her own all this time?

he dials her number, just about to press the call button when a lock clicks and a door opens.

the girl, albeit slightly unrecognisable at first, steps out of her bedroom. she’s still in her pyjamas, cheeks wet and eyes puffy with her hair in a messy ponytail talling apart on her shoulder.

“who- rocky?”

she flinches back at the voice, catching her off-guard. she sighs tiredly as she pushes her hair out of her face, wiping her cheeks dry on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “what are you guys doing here”

“what are we- when did you get back?” logan tilts his head in confusion. he gestures towards the mess around them, “and what happened? have you been crying?”

she sighs again, eyes fluttering as she turns to look away from them. “you guys should really go. it’s not a good time right now,” she says softly, gesturing them towards the front door of her apartment.

“we can stay and help you clean everything up,” oscar mutters, mirror logan’s stare at the ground, “we’re just curious. you don’t typically let your apartment get this messy.”

“mate,” another sigh comes with her pinching the bridge of her nose, “it’s really not a good time right now.”

oscar’s head snaps up. “are you avoiding us?”

she stares at him tiredly. “what? no, it’s just-”

“you are, aren’t you?” oscar cuts her off, feeling an overwhelming wave of frustration takes over him. months of what feels like a one-sided friendship finally catches up to him.

every single rejection of plans reminds him how neglected their friendship has been, every time she’s ‘forgotten’ to look for an ice cream parlour makes his blood boil. it is such a one-sided friendship as of late and it feels like she’s no longer honouring the years of friendship they have.

“but why? did we do something? did we say something to upset you?”

she slouches her shoulders. she takes a deep breath to recompose herself. “please just go,” she croaks out, feeling a knot in her throat at the realisation of where this entire conversation might be heading. “not now.”

“but what is it? is it us?” oscar frowns. “at least tell us before you start ignoring us.”

she clenches her jaw as her patience runs thin. and she tries to hold on to the last string of patience she has. all these past months, she’s tried her damnest not to be this way to anyone that’s involved in racing.

just to save some face, to show that she’s not completely lost her mind. apart from the fact that they’re all practically colleagues, they’re also her friends.

but as oscar continues to edge her on for an explanation for her behaviour, it’s increasingly getting more difficult to keep her outbust at bay.

“rocky,” oscar calls out to grab her attention. “what is it? i’m so tired of you beating around the bush; if we did something to upset you, speak up. it’s not fair — what you’re doing. you’re cancelling plans, you’re bailing, you’re leaving us hanging… we’ve known each other half of our lives. you can’t just do this.”

logan shifts uncomfortable where he stands. “do you hate us?”

she tries to stop herself, really. but she should be allowed one outburst in her life.

“yes, yes, i actually do!” she admits, venom lacing her words as she starts to explain herself. “it sucks. i’m so fucking jealous of all of you right now. i’ve tried to feel happy for you guys but honestly?” a dry laugh passes her lips, tears falling out of her eyes. “i resent all of the success you’ve found this year.

because you’re doing great and i’m not. it’s annoying because i should be doing great too. because between every single one of us, no one’s worked as hard as i have to get to where i am today. you’re my best friends but i can’t get myself to be happy for you and i hate myself even more for it.”

oscar blinks blankly at her. her chest heaves as she finishes speaking, fists clenched by her side as she starts to cry a little harder.

she’s swallowed down every single drop of resentment she feels towards her friends, all doing well while she’d sunk deeper into the trenches of her own demise.

speaking ill of them that one time they achieved a podium without her haunted her for weeks on end. she couldn’t get herself to speak to them like she hadn’t spent 20 minutes speaking behind their backs about how much she hates that they’re on podiums without her.

“it was easier to avoid you than say things i can’t say.”

it was truly one of the last times she spend with them; the guilt of speaking on them ate her up. she’s apologise out of the blue and they’d have no idea what she was talking about.

admitting it now feels like their friendship would truly never be the same. like this is the one fight that’s been waiting to happen after their years of friendship and would lead to her eventual loneliness.

but she doesn’t expect oscar to start laughing. “are you fucking stupid?”

“excuse me, what?” she scoffs, throwing her head back slightly.

logan sighs next to socar. “come on, don’t be like that. she’s clearly having a hard time right now,” he mutters, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

oscar turns to logan, pointing a hand over to where the girl stand by her bedroom door. “really, logan? you don’t think she’s being so mind-numbingly stupid right now?” he glances at her then immediately looks away. “she’s so insensitive right now. the last thing she should have done is isolate herself but she’s gone ahead and done exactly that.”

oscar huffs and turns back to her with a frown. “you would think that she would fall back on the people who understand her the most. and you still don’t believe she’s being stupid?”

logan sighs again. “oscar.”

“you don’t fucking get it!” she screams.

“we’re the ones who don’t get it? out of everyone you know, we’re the 2 people who understand the most!”

he has a point, she starts to think. but it’s not the same — they’re not the same. their predicaments are different.

they never had to go through and be on the receiving end of words that tried to tear her down as she grew up.

“no, you don’t!” she says with slight amusement. “you’re oscar piastri. everyone’s kissed the ground you’ve walked on; you came into the sport and everyone’s been acting like you’re a prodigy changing the course of the sport. you don’t know what it’s like to be this way!”

“and you thought that pushing away every single person who wants to help you is the solution to your problems?” oscar snorts. then it hits him. “is that why i haven’t seen matt around lately? you drove him away? finally cracked, didn’t he?”

“you don’t know the half of it,” she scoffs. there’s no need for oscar to remind her of the cardinal sin she’d acted upon to drive matt away.

she lives with the repercussions of it every single day: coming back to an empty apartment. just an apartment, a shell of what used to feel like home.

“all of this over a bad couple races?” oscar rolls his eyes and another mean scoff passes his lips. he was unaware how bad it had gotten for her. “how immature. there’s more to fucking life than your position in f1.”

she sucks in a deep breath. “you’ll never understand.”

“oh, i do,” oscar points out with a small grin. “i grew up with you, rocky, i know how you operate. you break down the minute you’re not the best at something. you get scared and hide away when you don’t feel like you’re on the top of your game.”

“what do you know about what i feel?” she tilts her head with a small smile. “that’s so fucking pretentious of you to say so, oscar.”

“you’ve already made it to the top.” he picks his feet up and starts to walk over to her, shoving away logan’s hand that tries to stop him from threading any further. “it’s unnecessary that you’re still this hard on yourself. you’ve proved everyone wrong by making it this far. there are people on your side,” he jabs a finger into her shoulder and she stumbles back, “there are people who miss you- we miss you!

“do you even realise how lucky you have it right now? you’ve got sebastian helping to push your narrative because he believes in you. do you think everyone’s got that luxury?” he points back at logan. “do you think he had that luxury fight for his life in this sport? did that even cross your mind or are you just so far into your head?”

“oscar,” logan repeats. oscar glances back at logan who has his lips pressed into a thin line, unamused by the scenario he’s choosing to bring up. “don’t even go there.”

but oscar ignores him. oscar turns back to the younger girl and grabs her shoulders, squeezing them firmly as he draws a soft sob from her.

“i thought that because you weren’t entirely alone, it was okay that we take a step back and stopped meddling with your life. i thought you were going to be fine; i thought you knew ho to handle yourself and continue to keep your feet on the ground.”

she shakes her head, bottom lip pouted out. “you don’t-”

“i don’t understand?” oscar scoffs. “how far into your head have you gone to push yourself into a corner? do you realise that you’re in the trenches because you put yourself in there? have you looked in the mirror and actually,” oscar shakes her, “looked at yourself?”

and it seems that something finally clicked in her head. she stares blankly up at him, tears finally running down her cheeks. her chest heaves with constant sobs as she no longer can find the words in her head to prove her point.

“okay, that’s enough,” logan mutters, yanking oscar away from the girl. he shoves the younger boy towards the kitchen. “go and get some air and drink some water — you’re scaring her.”

oscar sniffles, wiping his eyes and stumbles towards the kitchen. he spares her one last glare before turning his back on her. “whatever.”

logan can only sigh when he looks down her head. she’s got her head in her hands as she sobs. she lifts her eyes to look up at him and scoffs. “what? do you have something to say to me? about how deranged i’ve gotten?”

“i don’t know what got into you to think we wouldn’t understand how you were feeling,” he says softly, tears flooding his eyes.

it’s difficult to watch someone you think is so strong be half the person you watched her grow into. he pulls her into his arms, squeezing her into a tight hug and rests his chin on her head.

“i’m sorry,” she cries in staggered breaths into his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know. i didn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he mutters, squeezing her tighter. “we’re here.” he pulls away slightly and cups her cheeks, wiping her tears away with a small grin. “we’ve got you, okay? we’re here now.”

she nods through her tears, “okay.”

“we’ve got you, i promise,” logan hums, pulling her in again. he sways gently as he feels her sobs slowly dying out. “you’ll be okay.”

logan turns around at the sound of things shuffling about. oscar has a trash bag in his hand, picking up empty bottles on the ground and throwing them into the bag silently. she pulls her head back and watches oscar slowly navigate her littered apartment.

sensing their stares, oscar glances over his shoulder. “are you going to help me or are you just going to let me do this by myself?”

she glances up at logan with eyebrows raised and in return, he shrugs with a small smile.

for the next 2 hours, they clean up her apartment in silence. no music, not an utter of another word, just a heavy silence pushing down on their shoulders as they shift about her apartment like a well-oiled machine.

oscar throws his dirty piece of tissue into the bin right by the coffee table and sighs, leaning back into the couch he’s sat on. he’s in a single seater while logan and her share the bigger couch.

her apartment finally looks the way they all remember it. pristine with all her things neatly slotted into their respective slots.

oscar hasn’t spoken to her much since he’d gotten the bright idea to start helping her clean the apartment for her. he’d briefly asked her if she wanted pizza for dinner, to which she simply shrugged and said okay, then asked which toppings she wanted. then they returned to their silence.

he picks up her can of pepsi, popping it open before extending his hand over to her. she turns stiffly and looks at his offer with a blank stare. “oh, thank you.”

she takes it into her hands and glances over at oscar who turns away from her immediately to grab logan’s drink next. “i’m sorry,” she says first, just barely above a whisper. her head is dropped slightly, eyes trained on the slicer of pizza in her hands.

truthfully, she’s not very sure how to apologise for her behaviour. while she’s broken down over things said about her and her progress is a sport that barely had a spot for her, it’s never gotten this bad.

she hadn’t even realised that they still cared with their own lives now.

“no, i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, turning his head to her. “that we didn’t foster an environment where you felt like you could come to use and be honest about how you’re really feeling. you did it for me all the time when we first started out and i’m sorry i couldn’t do the same for you.”

“it’s not even your fault,” she sighs shakily. “i pushed away everyone who tried to extend their hands out to me to help. oscar’s right.”

oscar sighs audibly, sinking into his seat. he turns his head to look at her and purses is lips. “i’m sorry i called you stupid,” oscar says, “we grew up together… i just thought that if you didn’t feel right, we’d still be the people you know you don’t have to put up a facade with. be brutally, disgustingly and painfully honest with.”

“i really didn’t wanna worry anybody,” she frowns. “you have your own lives now, you know? i thought i could handle it on my own.”

“don’t even say that,” oscar turns to her with furrowed eyebrows, “you’re practically my little sister — i’ve driven you to the hospital after you writhed in pain from dislocating your shoulder playing volleyball. i’ve beaten up guys from school for you so of course you’ll always have a place in our lives.”

“i didn’t want you to know that i was a sore loser,” she shrugs with a small grin. she gestures towards logan. “he took our first 2 years in the sport so gracefully. it was embarrassing that i couldn’t do the same when it was my turn.”

“what?” logan scoffs. “you seriously think i wasn’t jealous seeing you guys being glorified by everyone? i felt like shit watching you guys get accepted in the sport with open arms and make new friends without me.”

he gives her a knowing stare when she turns her head to look at him. “i lvoe you, but i seriously despised you so much for being better than me at everything. i felt like the smallest man who’s ever lived when i was next to you. and dude… we were always together.”

she chews on the inside of her cheek. “i didn’t know that… i’m sorry…”

“but at the end of the day, you were always there for me,” logan frowns, poking her arm gently. “i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same level of comfort to not spiral this bad. the only reason i hadn’t was because you were there for me all the time.”

“well i’m sorry that i was so mean to you,” oscar sighs. “but you know you needed it, right?”

“i know,” she shrugs, “thanks.”

“i don’t wanna be the one to bring it up, though,” logan hums as he reaches forward for another slice, “but what happened with matt?”

she chuckles with a soft snort. she lifts her head and puffs her cheeks out. “i wasn’t very nice to him when everything was falling apart,” tears flood her eyes, “he called for a break. but honestly, i think he wants to break up with me.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “he asked for a break, didn’t he? that’s not a breakup, mate.”

“you weren’t there. i wouldn’t want to be with me either if i had to endure what he went through with me,” she admits with a sigh. she wipes her tears away from her eyes and smiles slightly. “i think he’s just trying to soften the blow.”

oscar laughs. he laughs the loudest and heartiest he’s ever since he’d bolted from lily while they were running errands together. “do you seriously think that?”

she blinks at oscar. “i thought we were done being mean to me, mate.”

“we are!” oscar beams, forcing himself to falter with his laughter. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to make you feel worse. but do you seriously think that matt — the guy who’s in your garage every single weekend, literally comes into the paddocks with ice cream for your entire team, texts logan and i to ask about things to surprise you with — wants to seriously break up with you?”

“well, you weren’t there,” she explains with a frown. “well, you were, once when i was crying in the paddocks. but i was so mean to him.”

“but a break isn’t a breakup,” oscar explains as he points at her knowingly. “you were arguably at your worst, i doubt that he wants to leave you when your mental was that bad. it happens, you know?”

“if he didn’t want to be with you, he would have broken up with you instead of asking for a break,” logan sighs, patting her on the shoulder. “just approach him.”

“i don’t know how to,” she admits, sliding down the couch to lie down slightly. “there’s no gesture big enough to makeup for the things i said… the way i treated him…”

“say you’re sorry,” oscar says with a small grin and a nod. “start there and i’m sure you guys can work it out from there, you know?”

“i’ll try.”

“okay, enough with this,” logan throws his head back with a grunt. “let’s go karting!” he stands up and smiles at her widely. “you sound like you need your edge back. i’ll even let you win this time.”

she scoffs, “as if i’d ever lose to you in equal machinery!”

“aw, she’s back! she’s fighting back now!” oscar cheers, hopping up as he claps his hands. “come on! then let’s get ice cream where we always get it! i haven’t been there in forever.”

“okay, okay!” she laughs, watching the 2 of them jump to their feet and start to clear out her table. she feels a warmth in her chest watching them in her living room. “just let me shower, okay? we kinda cleaned a lot tonight. i won’t take less than 15 minutes, i promise!”

there’s a chorus of heavy sighs and arms thrown in the air. “we might as well cancel karting.”

“but you take forever to get ready!” oscar jokes with a frown. “if you pass 15 minutes, you’re paying for ice cream.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[gi4hao]

the idiots you date — x. minghao

roommate!minghao x gn!reader

word count: 1k

genre: fluff but slightly angsty (mention of a past toxic relationship)

“you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are.”

minghao’s face bears signs of exhaustion that you’ve learned to recognize months ago. signs which started to appear exactly when he took on this new “big corporate job” as you often call it, simply because you’re not quite sure to understand what it is.

you’ve finished your dinner an hour ago. you used to wait for him to come home, but that was when he wasn’t working overtime most days of the week.

“they needed me to finish some urgent reports, i didn’t really have a choice,” he tells you before you can even ask anything. his tone is like a permanent sigh, but you know it’s not directed towards you.

sat at the kitchen table, you remain silent, fiddling with the rings he took off before washing his hands. the lights are dimmed, making the dark circles under his eyes slightly more prominent.

“how was your date?” he asks as he takes his plate out of the microwave, probably wanting to change the subject. but you doubt he’s still interested in your date anecdotes, especially since this one was your third of the week.

although he comes to sit right next to you, you carefully avoid his eyes when you reply:

“okay, i guess? the guy was nice but had terrible takes on most topics we talked about. well, ‘we’ is kind of a stretch because i was doing most of the talking. i think he was just here to eat good food and make me pay for most of it.”

“so… not okay, then”, minghao corrects you, and the silence that follows speaks louder than any word would have.

you’ve been single for almost a year now, and your last relationship was not exactly a model of good and healthy communication.

living alone after the breakup was a depressing prospect, and minghao was in need of a roommate to avoid letting his job drive him insane: a perfect match for two long-time friends like you two.

there was always a certain closeness between you, but living together has made it more intimate, and consequently harder to ignore... which is why you decided to ask for the help of various dating apps in hope to get minghao out of your head.

“yeah, not okay…” you sigh, mindlessly sliding one of his rings on your finger.

your gaze lands on the painting hung next to the fridge. one of minghao’s, which you insisted should be put up in your apartment; swirls of paint meeting in rosebuds and milky tulips. you can still see where the paint was spread across the canvas by his fingers.

with a tinge of sadness, you realize minghao hasn’t drawn anything in months. his paint-covered clothes were all replaced by dull suits that make him look like the people he used to feel sorry for.

“what time do you start tomorrow?” you ask, pouring him another glass of water.

his lips press into a thin line; you’re not sure whether he’s holding back a sigh of annoyance or just mentally preparing for an answer you’re not going to like.

“7. there’s a meeting i need to prepare for.”

“and when you get to the office at 7, are other employees there? or just you?”

“don’t start,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing his plate to go put it in the dishwasher. “we’ve already discussed this, it’s a dead-end.”

he’s right, this conversation has never ended well. but your eyes keep coming back to that painting, to everything he’s slowly turning his back to. the sadness ebbs away, giving way to a rising anger:

“no, i will start actually,” you state, walking up to him. “you’re unhappy, hao. you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you.”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are,” he replies, slamming the dishwasher shut. but his voice sounded more cutting than intended: “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that.”

there are a thousand words on your lips right now, but few of them would be reasonable to say out loud. meanwhile, minghao is looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb.

“but you said it. so now i expect you to either hit me with a miracle solution or kiss me.”

you said it without really thinking, basically shrugging as you know he will never take you seriously. the best outcome would be for him to never speak about your love life ever again.

but his reply makes you instantly freeze: “what if i did both?”

a rush of warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach, radiating through your entire body as his hand comes to meet your cheek, silently asking for confirmation that this is something you want.

your lips crash against his before he can even start to lean in, and the feeling of his skin so close to yours feels so unreal you expect him to push you away any second.

but instead, he matches your eagerness to the point where you’re scared you might lose your balance.

“i hope you like that solution,” he breathes out, leaving one last kiss on your nose.

in that fleeting moment, you reunite with the old minghao, the lively one who makes his own decisions and owns up to his actions. the one you fell in love with years ago.

“absolutely”, you chuckle, your hands meeting behind his neck. “…so i guess i can tell that guy we won’t go on a second date.”

“you better,” he earnestly tells you as he starts to take his black blazer off. “working from 7 to 9 will never be as painful as watching another idiot take you on a date. from now on, i’ll take care of it.”

-> rbs and feedback are always appreciated!

masterlist here!

[its-time-to-write]

hi! Could you please write something with like reader opening the door one day when Roy stars knocking for training but reader and Jamie aren’t open about their relationship yet? I think it would be cute xx

I also thought this was cute. Not sure if anyone notices/cares, but all my titles are song lyrics based ever so loosely on the vibe I am trying to convey. Thanks for another great request!

what it is

Someone’s aggressively knocking on the door and as you roll over to check the time. It’s 4am, and you poke Jamie who is fast asleep beside you.

“Babe,” you whisper, “someone’s at the door.”

Jamie groans and mumbles something incoherent. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell something’s off. You reach out your hand and feel his forehead. It’s burning up.

The knocking continues and Jamie lets out another groan and says something that sounds like raining? Oh. Training. You remember he trains every morning at 4, but you’ve never seen who he goes with. He just kisses you in your sleep and is back right as you wake up for the day. 

You roll out of bed, grab one his sweatshirts from the floor, and pad downstairs to the door.

You swing open the door mid-knock. The man on the other side lowers his fist, looks at you all squinty for a moment, then says, “Who the fuck’re you?”

You return the look. “I live here. Who the fuck are you?”

The man scoffs. “No, you fucking don’t. This is Jamie Tartt’s house. Jesus fucking Christ, is he fucking blowing off training because of a fucking one-night stand?”

Oh. You know who this is. This is Roy Kent. You didn’t know he was the one training Jamie, but you guess it makes sense based on how much Jamie talks about him. It’s Roy Kent this, and Roy Kent that, and Roy says I need to eat more protein, and Roy said my hair looked funny today, does it look funny to you? 

You sigh. You and Jamie have been together for three months, and you basically live at his house. You’re really only at your flat to change clothes. You have a toothbrush, pajamas, and half a wardrobe at Jamie’s. Your books have started to make their way onto his shelves too, as you read them and then leave them for him to start. That was a little bit of an accident at first, after you left This Side of Paradise one night and came back to a different bookmark on page 34.

Anyway, Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re dating Jamie, or that anyone is. You suppose in his mind, Jamie is happily single, fucking around like the twenty-something year old footballer he is. 

Roy is still looking at you expectantly, so say, “I do live here. Why don’t you come in?” and hold open the door a bit wider. 

Roy’s face says fuck it, and he follows you inside to the kitchen. 

“Can I get you some tea?” you ask quietly, although Jamie can sleep through anything. 

Roy seems surprised by the question, but says, “Yeah, sure,” as he stands by the kitchen island.

“Jamie’s sick,” you say. “He’s still asleep upstairs. I doubt he’ll be up for training today.”

“Right, yeah,” says Roy, “I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you? Jamie’s not fucking supposed to be doing the whole one-night stand thing, he told me it’s too fucking distracting from training.”

You chuckle. “That’s comedy gold right there. Yeah, no, I’m not a one-night stand. I’m his girlfriend.”

Roy’s impressive eyebrows lift in shock, and you laugh again and give him your name. “Didn’t know I existed, did you? I’m not one for crowds or a big fuss. I told Jamie if we made it four months than he could start telling people. He was a little upset, but,” you shrug, “no point in making it a big deal if we just break up, right?”

You can practically see the wheels turning in Roy’s brain as he does the math.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been fucking dating this little prick for three fucking months, and he hasn’t fucking said anything?”

You nod. 

“Fuckkk,” Roy whispers, “that makes so much fucking sense.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“He’s been less of a prick recently,” Roy explains, “More considerate, been carrying around fucking books and shit. Not fucking flirting with everything that fucking moves. Thought maybe he was just taking beating Zava too fucking seriously.”

You nod and move to pour the tea. You and Roy both turn as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s Jamie, who is wearing a headlamp, pajama shirt, athletic vest, and a single sock. And, thank God, pants.

“Ready for training coach,” he says with a salute, but the action almost makes him fall over. He looks all pale and sweaty, with bags under his eyes.

“Told you he was sick,” you say.

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all Roy can come up with.

Jamie seems to notice you for the first time and breaks out into a smile. “Roy! Look! I have a girlfriend,” he says, words a little slurred while pointing to you.

It’s punctuated by a “Jesus Christ,” from Roy as Jamie wobbles, unsteady on his feet from his fever.

“Alright, mister,” you say. “Back to bed.”

Jamie frowns. “Always so mean,” he says. He does an imitation of your voice, “No Jamie, you can’t tell Roy about us. Yes Jamie, I know Roy’s your best friend. No Jamie, I don’t think you love Roy more than me.” He looks at Roy as you sling his arm around your shoulders, supporting him at his waist. He puts his fingertips on your lips as he says, “See what I have to put up with?”

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile as Roy says, “What you have to put up with?”

Jamie is so loopy right now. He lays his head on yours and smiles again. “Look at this. Me two favorite people, finally meeting. You should stay for dinner, coach.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh as you both mutually decide not to point out that it is now 4:30am and dinner is a long, long way away.

“Let’s go get you out of those clothes and into bed,” you say as you start to lead him back to your room. 

Jamie casts a look back at Roy and wiggles his eyebrows. “Babe, you can’t just say things like that in front of granddad. Might give him a heart attack. Old people are such prudes.”

“Go to sleep, Tartt,” Roy says. He looks at you and says softly, “I can see myself out.”

You smile and wave with your free hand. “It was nice to meet you,” you say. “Hopefully we can meet again under more normal circumstances.”

Roy nods once and does what you think is a smile? He turns and heads out the door as you maneuver Jamie upstairs. Jamie Tartt has a girlfriend. And a good one at that. What is the world coming to?

[nadvs]

why do i see cheerleader reader having daddy issues, so when she tells rafe she’s pregnant, she’s so emotional and scared about how he’s gonna react and if he’s gonna break up with her or something

it tracks 🥺 she always expects to be disappointed by men and it’s not just because every guy she’s dated before rafe has treated her badly…

based on this fic

when she moves in with rafe after she finishes her post-grad internship, she’s still on the pill. one day, she’s complaining about the side effects of it as she’s making herself lunch and her boyfriend says, “then stop taking it.”

she looks at him from across the kitchen.

“we’d have to use protection,” she says. “every time.”

“sure. but is it so bad if…?”

she’s shocked. they’ve been together for about two years now and they’ve never talked about kids past a mention of it’d be nice to be parents some day.

“if i get pregnant?” she says.

“yeah.”

“isn’t that fast?”

“not for me. is it fast for you?”

she shrugs. maybe it’s not so crazy. they have their future set. a child would be a nice addition. they haven’t talked about marriage, but she’s in no rush. they don’t have to be married to have a baby.

“if we both want it… i guess if it happens, it happens,” she mumbles. “but our lives would change really, really drastically.”

“i know,” rafe says comfortingly.

she continues to make herself food and he stares at her, imagining her with a baby bump and that bump turning into a little human who’s a mix of him and the person he loves most.

he knows she’d be a great mom. and he’s always wanted to be a dad. he’s always wanted to undo how his own father had raised him, making his only son have to struggle for his fleeting approval.

three months later, she misses her period. she doesn’t tell rafe. she picks up a pregnancy test. she doesn’t tell him that, either. when she sees the double lines on the test, she’s standing in the middle of their bathroom, her body trembling.

and she hates that she doesn’t feel excited. she’s scared. she thought she wanted this. she hoped for a positive. but this isn’t the feeling she thought she’d have.

she goes through the motions of ordering a custom newborn basketball jersey with cameron stitched on the back, having dreamed of telling rafe that they’re expecting that way.

a couple of days later, it comes in the mail. she has actually sort of liked keeping the secret while she waited because it meant she could pretend it wasn’t real yet.

she does what she thinks she should do. she puts the tiny shirt in a bag, sets up her phone to record, and calls him over to tell him something came for him. this is what a woman who’s excited to tell him would do, she tells herself.

at first, when rafe opens the bag, he doesn’t say anything. his jaw goes slack, he blinks a bunch of times, and then he pulls her in for a tight hug.

she’s already shaking, tears in her eyes, when she hears him sniffle. he pulls back. his hands are firm on her cheeks, gazing at her through glossy blue eyes.

“you’re happy?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he responds, saying it like it’s obvious. “we wanted this, right?”

rafe stills for a moment when he sees just how anguished she looks. she doesn’t seem happy at all.

“right?” he repeats.

“yeah,” she says, nodding and looking down. “i don’t know. it’s weird. maybe it’s the hormones already.”

“how long have you known? do you feel okay?”

“just a couple days,” she says. “i’m tired. a little nauseous. but he hasn’t made me throw up yet.”

“he?”

she meets her boyfriend’s eyes.

“i know it’s too soon to tell,” she says, “but i really hope it’s a boy. you’ll feel more connected to a boy.”

he can tell by the way she’s stuttering and crying that something’s wrong.

“baby,” he mumbles. “i’ll feel connected no matter what. it’s my kid.”

she shudders, nodding through her sobs.

“what’s up?” rafe says softly. “do you… are you regretting it?”

“no,” she replies, “but are you sure you want this?”

“yes. we talked about it,” he reminds her. “it’s not like this was an accident.”

“yeah,” she mumbles, looking down at her lap again.

rafe stares at her, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. she’s acting like this was unexpected. like she’s wishing they never started trying.

“what is it?” he says. “if you don’t want this, then just tell me.”

she curls up, slouching as she dips her head into her hands, the tears coming harder now.

“if it gets hard…” she whimpers, her voice muffled. “you can’t leave me to do it on my own. you can’t.”

he’s floored. they haven’t mentioned anything about the possibility of things not working out with them in ages. and back when they did, it was almost always rafe needing reassurance that she wasn’t planning on leaving him.

“i would never do that,” he says. “look at me.” his fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands down from her face.

“where’s this coming from?” rafe mumbles. “did i do something?”

he thinks back to the past few days, trying to remember if he said something even in passing that would make her worry about him abandoning his girl and their baby.

the look in his eyes almost looks like betrayal. like he can’t believe she’s saying this.

she swallows hard, coming to terms with what’s been swimming in her head for days now. her father was absent. the only example she had of a dad was one who never really acted like he wanted a kid at all.

“i don’t know what it looks like,” she begins, “when a man actually wants to be a dad. maybe you’re excited now, but what if when it gets hard? when he’s crying or sick or keeping us awake?”

“we’ll deal with it,” he says. he pushes past his own ache to try to understand her.

his cups her hands in his, searching her face with concerned eyes. he remembers her opening up to him long ago about how she always wondered if her dad would have loved her more if she was a son instead of a daughter.

“when he or she is giving us hell, we’ll deal with it,” he says. “i love them already. there’s nothing that’ll change that.”

he puts a hand on her stomach, rubbing gently. she finally cracks a smile, softly laughing. his chest loses its tightness when he sees her look happy for the first time since he got home.

“i was reading that it’s the size of a pomegranate seed right now,” she says.

he smiles in awe, kissing her wet cheek.

“what’s next?” he asks. “what appointments do we make? what should you be eating?”

she laughs again. rafe has always been so intense, so focused on the next step.

“let me catch my breath first,” she teases. she looks over, just now remembering she filmed all this.

“my bad, baby,” he laughs. “breathe. this’ll be good, alright?”

“alright,” she says. and she believes it.

[memyselfandi2008-blog]

So, I’ve just recently seen a few videos on TikTok about people leaving their best friend of however many years because they started dating someone, and it just confuses the absolute hell out of me.

Like, a few women have posted about leaving their male friends because he got a girlfriend, and I’m just sitting here like… you don’t have to do that?

You shouldn’t have to break years (or even a handful of months) of your friendship off because he got a girlfriend.

I mean, I did see a few comments talk about how it’s a “trust thing,” or something like that, but like… a trust thing for who?

If it’s for the girlfriend, that’s a red flag, is it not? Like, the idea that she can’t accept that her boyfriend has female friends? The fact she doesn’t trust him to not go behind her back? Or even try to form relationships with his friends and get to know them better?

If it’s for the guy, that’s also a red flag. As said before he should be trustworthy and loyal—his affection for his girlfriend shouldn’t have to be called into question. The idea that there is even a sliver of possibility for that to happen is not grounds for a healthy relationship.

If it’s for the friend, again, red flag. The fact you’d go out of your way to pursue him if you didn’t break off your friendship is extremely muffed up.

Men (and women in the reverse) should be allowed to have opposite gendered best friends without the concept of romance just hanging over their heads for their entire lives, or needless petty drama of the idea that “oh they could be dating!! >:(” when that thought has never crossed their minds.

Hell, even if they did used to date and broke it off, but still remained friends, that should be a sign that their breakup was healthy for both of them and that they won’t plan to get together again. They were both mature and realized that a romance wasn’t something they wanted.

This entire concept just baffles me.

I mean, it’s videos like those that make me paranoid that I’m the reason my guy friend hasn’t gotten a girlfriend yet. There’s been so many points where I’ve just though that he’d be better off if I just stopped being his friend, that maybe it’d be easier for him if we never even met in the first place.

I just don’t understand why men and women can’t just be friends. There always has to be something, some underlying feeling that people just assume is there, when it’s really nothing at all.

[yunhohours]

Sleep Over?

✗ Pairing: date!renjun x fem!reader

✗ Word count: 3.7k

✗ Warnings: fluffy smut, renjun cannot stop kissing reader, 'baby' as a pet name, small bit of breast/nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), reader makes a decisive choice to have unprotected sex (do not recommend), creampie, these bitches are in love with each other oh my god

✗ A/N: this was inspired by a prompt request that appealed to me so much i had to make it a whole thing. the prompts requested will be in bold font. i tried to keep reader's prior romantic and sexual experience vague enough to suit everyone, considering the nature of the prompts.

It’s your sixth or seventh date with Renjun. You kind of stopped focusing on the number after the third because that’s all the books and movies seem to care about. Tonight, you decided to stay in and cook together for once. You usually go here or there, eating at new places or trying new activities together. It’s always a lot of fun… but tonight, you wanted to just be together.

And by be together, you don’t mean in bed together. At least, you don’t think so. It’s the six or seventh date and Renjun hasn’t even kissed you yet. At least, not really.

He’s kissed you on the cheek. He’s held your hand–always, actually. He’s hugged you and held you, but he has never kissed you on the lips. At first, you were worried that he didn’t want to–that he just didn’t like you all that much. 

But how can you believe that? He keeps asking you out on dates, keeps making it sound like seeing you again is the biggest joy in his life. He wants to see you as much as your schedules allow and when he’s with you, you have his full attention, his full heart. So you know it’s not that he doesn’t like you. You actually started to think it was sweet and, really, you still think that, but you’d really like him to kiss you. You want to get it out of the way so you can kiss him again and again–whenever you want.

You’re in Renjun’s kitchen, washing pasta sauce off your clean plates side by side. You’re both wearing brilliant smiles as you talk and giggle and threaten to splash each other with water. He did splash you–just a little bit–when you were cleaning the pots and the utensils, but after one adorable warning look from you, he retreated. Not that you’d have minded if he didn’t. You’re starting to think there’s nothing he could do that would make you look at him with anything but adoring eyes.

Renjun reaches to turn off the water and you reach for your keys on the counter. He frowns.

“Hey…” His voice is soft as he takes your hand, pulling you towards him gently. He releases your hand only to wrap his arm around you instead, holding you at your lower back, his eyes glittering as he looks into yours. “Sleep over? Please?” 

You feel a swarm of butterflies come to life in your stomach. You hadn’t expected this. You were just hoping for a kiss, but now he’s offering you…

Well, you don’t really know what he’s asking. You can infer, but based on your previous experiences together, you doubt it.

“Sleep over? Do you mean…?”

Before you can finish asking, Renjun answers.

“We can just sleep. I just don’t want you to go home yet.” He cups your face in his hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’m really happy when I’m with you.”

How many butterflies live in your stomach? You lean into his touch, blinking at him fondly like a woman in love. Maybe you are a woman in love. Your lips curl up slightly as you nod your head. You want to tell him you feel the same way. You want to tell him that you’d like to sleep next to him every single night. But you can’t manage all of that right now. Not when you feel so overwhelmed with emotion. “Okay.”

It’s a single word and not as much as he deserves, but the bright grin that takes up his face would have you believing otherwise. “Good,” he says, brushing his lips against your hair before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers ghost down your arm as he reaches for your hand once again. He guides you towards his bedroom as he speaks. “Let’s get you something you can wear to sleep.”

You almost think that he means you’ll be wearing his clothes, but that thought doesn’t have time to cement itself. When you pass through the door to his room, your eyes instantly spot something of yours folded neatly on his dresser. He walks you right to it, smiling sheepishly. He lets go of your hand to present the clothing item to you and you laugh. It’s your old, reliable, oversized t-shirt.

“I know I’ve been telling you since our second date that I would wash and give this back to you… and I know I have been telling you that I forgot it every time since.” He pauses, cocking his head slightly as a coy expression takes over his face. “I just wanted an excuse to see you again. If I needed one.”

You feel almost dizzy at his words. Is this what it feels like to be lovesick? Every time he opens his mouth, you feel love trying to break its way out of your body–trying to grow past the confines.

You wore this t-shirt when you went to the beach on your second date. You just needed something to cover your swimsuit until it was time to be in it. But when you and Renjun were playing on the beach–chasing each other after he teased you or you teased him–you ran into the water without thinking. You were just trying to escape his playful wrath. You weren’t thinking about the fact that you still had your shirt on–not that you would have cared about getting it wet in the first place. You laughed and looked down at your soaked through t-shirt when you realized. By the time you looked up again, Renun was in the water too, eyes looking almost apologetic. You told him a million times that you didn’t care at all about your shirt getting wet, but he kept insisting on walking to a nearby hut and buying you a new one. He didn’t want you to be cold on the ride home, he’d said. You forgot your original shirt in his car.

“Well, I guess this is as good a time as any for me to get it back.” You smile, playfully nudging his arm with your elbow before taking the shirt from him. You look towards his bedroom door, attempting to look past it for a bathroom to change in.

“Right next door,” he says, answering your silent question.

You look back at him–in awe of him. He anticipates your every need. You nod and reach up to kiss his cheek, lingering there for a moment. You pull away, heading to the bathroom next door, your heart beating at double speed. 

Renjun’s bathroom is clean, beautiful. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a clean, beautiful person. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you admire it. A small plant that he has had to learn how to keep alive. A candle that you can only assume he lights when he has a bath. Plush towels that tempt you to take that bath before bed. You shake your head once in an effort to refocus yourself, carefully stepping out of your clothes and into your shirt. You realize that you don’t have any shorts to wear with it, but he’s seen you in swimwear already. Your panties are much the same. Surely, he’s thought this too.

When you enter Renjun’s bedroom again, it’s darker. The overhead lights are off, leaving the room dimly lit by a single lamp on his bedside table. You can see him sitting against his headboard, legs under his sheets. His comforter is folded at the end of his bed–he probably only uses it when the temperature calls for it. His eyes round out just slightly as he smiles at you. He looks grateful that you’re here.

You make your way to his bed and slip under the sheets. Unlike Renjun, you cover yourself up to your shoulders, laying down properly on your side and looking at him. You match his smile. He matches your position, sinking down to mirror your body. You stay just like this–smiling, holding each other’s gaze, feeling what it’s like to find home in another person–for a minute or two.

Renjun’s eyes slide down to your lips. You almost gulp. Is he finally going to kiss you? His hand cups your face–much like he did in the kitchen–but this time, his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, featherlight.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It makes me think you want to kiss me.” Your voice is a whisper.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” He answers your question with a question, this thumb still grazing back and forth across your lip. His touch is so light that you wouldn’t know he was touching you at all if your lip wasn’t moving on its own accord.

Your cheeks heat up at the question. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because you want to know what would make him ask that. What is it about you that makes him think there's enough of a chance that you haven’t kissed anyone, so he should ask? What does he want the answer to be? Maybe it’s because the question alone makes you feel even more sure that he is going to kiss you this time.

While you’re busy thinking instead of answering, Renjun has either come to his own conclusion in his mind or decided that he doesn’t care after all, because he leans in, his eyes on your lips. The moment is finally here. You tense, bracing for what you’ve been craving.

Renjun notices your tension, mistaking it for nervousness. “Don’t be afraid. It’s me.” He whispers the words, his lips brushing against yours softly as he speaks.

His lips connect with yours, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your body relax with the kiss. Maybe you were nervous. You’ve never cared about someone this much, after all. He lets his lips pop free of yours after just one gentle peck of your lips, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s testing how you feel, what you want. You angle your face just slightly, playfully bumping his nose with yours as a signal that you’re just fine. He smiles and brushes his lips against yours before kissing you again.

This time, he doesn’t stop after the first kiss finishes. He follows it with another and another, each one stealing more of your breath. His lips are so soft and the connection between you can be felt physically, your body overwhelmed with passion. Your hand clutches the front of his shirt, tangling it in your fist as a way to disperse some of the tension in your body. His hand wraps around your fist, smiling against your lips.

He presses forward, directing you to lie on your back. He does it slowly and carefully enough that you could just ignore his body’s signals and stay as you are, but you oblige his request, welcoming his body on top of yours. He holds your face tenderly in one hand, holding himself up with the other, not wanting to overwhelm you too quickly. He lets his body melt on top of yours, his tongue asking for permission at the seam of your lips. You don’t hesitate to give it to him, parting your lips for him.

You’re both breathing heavily, the heat warming your faces. Renjun’s tongue is intentional in its exploration of your mouth, massaging your tongue in a sensual fashion that reflects the way he holds your face in his hand. Loving. 

Your hands are resting on either side of Renjun’s neck, holding lightly enough that if you put any less effort into your wrists, they would fall away. Renjun’s hands are on the move, gliding over your shoulders and down your arms. He takes your hands in his for a moment, threading his fingers through yours, squeezing affectionately. He turns your arms, letting his thumbs brush against your wrists. Through all of this, he never stops kissing you.

The kiss is more involved now, both of you angling your heads and chasing after each other’s lips like you’d die without them. Renjun licks into your mouth teasingly a few times, his hands gripping your hips where your shirt has bunched up and settled. You can’t help but moan softly at the flirtation. He grins against your lips before capturing them again, his fingers experimenting with the hem of your shirt. Your hands tighten their hold on his neck, moving closer to the back of his head, finding his hair. 

Renjun hums his approval against your lips, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your stomach. Your stomach tenses under his touch, the anticipation triggering an influx of adrenaline. 

Misunderstanding, Renjun’s hands retreat.

“No–” You dispute, breathless.

Renjun pulls back enough to see your face clearly, his amorous eyes searching yours. His thumb hooks under them of your shirt, brushing against the skin there, checking. Making sure you don’t really mind. “Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.” He kisses the tip of your nose, surely reassuring you that he won’t be upset either way.

You nod, holding his eyes so he knows you mean it. “I want to be with you.”

That’s all Renjun needed to hear. He kisses you again–harder this time, but still precious. His hands fully move under your shirt, feeling the entire expanse of your abdomen. You sigh dreamily against his lips, he licks at yours playfully. He ventures off your mouth, kissing across your jaw, turning your head with his in the process. His hands reach your breasts, thumbs lightly brushing over the nipples. He savors the quiet moan you reward him with, cupping them. You moan again.

Your wrists are limply thrown over Renjun’s upper back as he kisses down your neck, focusing on the spot where it meets your shoulder. He sucks the skin into his mouth and you gasp at the sensation. If he keeps it up, he’ll be leaving a mark behind. You feel him hardening against your thigh as his hands massage your breasts, your pussy clenching at the prospect of feeling him inside you. I want to be as close to him as humanly possible, you think. 

Oh god, you’re hopelessly in love with him. There’s no question about it.

“Renjun…” You hesitate, timid. What if he doesn’t want the same thing?

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice laced with affection. He kisses the same spot over and over, just pecks. He doesn’t want his mouth to get too involved when he might need to use more words.

“I want to feel you.” You manage the words. You feel shy, but he’s worth the effort. You swear you feel his cock twitch against your leg.

Renjun hums, pleased. He licks over the spot he’s been marking–once, twice, three times. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I want to feel you too.” He kisses back up to your lips, his hand skating down the softness of your belly towards your panties. His kiss is soft again, just like before. He keeps his tongue to himself, not wanting you to focus on anything but the feeling of him touching you, his hand reaching into your panties, fingers taking up residency in your folds.

He kisses the corner of your lips as you moan. You didn’t realize how much you wanted him. This first touch feels like you’ve been waiting your whole life for it. His middle finger tests your clit, pushing against it like a trigger-sensitive button, and you twitch, moaning louder than before.

“You’re already so sensitive.” You can hear the desire in his voice, his lips hovering by your jaw. He continues feeling you out, fingers gliding towards your entrance, finding much more arousal than he’d anticipated. “Fuck, y/n.”

A hint of embarrassment tinges your features. “I just… really want you.” You admit.

He groans with his own want, placing comforting kisses across your jaw as he makes his way back to your lips. “How did I get so lucky?” You kiss him before he can kiss you and he moans this time.

Not one to rush things or risk you being uncomfortable, Renjun’s fingers probe at your entrance. He guides one of his fingers inside you, both of you hissing at the feeling. Realizing that you’re plenty aroused enough, Renjun adds a second finger, working them gently inside you. You whine–wanting to keep feeling him like this, wanting to feel him more.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

Renjun thrusts his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. He sits back on his feet, pulling his shirt over his head. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but it’s different right now. You salivate, appreciating your view as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, peeling them down and off your legs before hovering over you again. 

“Should I get a condom?” He asks, his eyes level with yours. 

You take a moment to think before answering. “No.”

He raises his brow, asking silent questions. Does that mean you want me to stop? Do you want me to keep going without one?

“I want to feel you.” You repeat the words from earlier.

Renjun’s face looks pained at the words. The good kind of pain. The kind that comes with a groan of lust, love. He kisses you, using one hand to push his boxers down until they’re out of the way. He sighs with relief, the exhale causing your lips to separate. You stay in place, breathing against each other’s mouths as Renjun guides the tip of his cock through your slick. You can tell from the way his hips jerk at the feeling that he’s just as worked up as you are, if the sheer hardness of his cock wasn’t enough of a tell. You finger the hair at the back of his head, soothing him.

Renjun pulls back like he did before–just until he can see your face clearly. He watches your expression as he pushes himself into you, watching for any sign of discomfort even as he groans from pleasure. Fortunately, all he sees is the way your brows raise at the front and your jaw lowers, the prettiest moan he’s ever heard tumbling out of your kiss-swollen lips.

Taking this as a sign to give you more, Renjun starts to pump himself inside you. He’s slow, but not too slow. Just slow enough to make it feel like his tongue feels when it’s in your mouth–the delicious drag of his cock along your walls. You can feel every movement individually instead of it becoming one big, blurred assault. You moan in sync with each other, the feeling of being one the strongest aphrodisiac.

You find yourself grasping as Renjun fucks into you–for his shoulder, his back, his hair. Anything. It’s not that he’s fucking you so hard you need to hold onto something. It’s that everything feels so overwhelmingly good being with him that you need something to ground you. To remind you that this is real and possible and yours.

You like that Renjun doesn’t inhibit himself with you. He lets his own sounds of pleasure come freely, escalating as the pleasure does. You’re comfortable with each other–both pairs of hips coming together in an effort for maximum closeness. You pant and moan and shiver together, experiencing the same kind of romantic bliss as each other. One of Renjun’s hands takes yours from the back of his hair, linking his fingers through yours–holding.

Your other arm wraps around Renjun’s neck, pulling him down, wanting him closer. His head falls into the crook of your neck and you’re grateful, his beautiful moans now landing directly on your ears. He sounds so pretty–you want to tell him that later. Renjun’s free hand snakes under your back, pulling you up against him as you hold him down against you. He’s thrusting into you without more urgency now–the difference felt more noticeably through speed rather than intensity. The uptake of pace makes your lashes flutter, your orgasm nearing. You can tell from the way Renjun sounds that he’s close, too.

You squeeze Renjun’s hand with yours and you squeeze his cock with your pussy. He groans. You can almost hear him thinking I know, baby. Me too. You hold onto his neck for dear life as he continues ramping up the pace, making your head feel dizzy on his pillow. Your moans slur into one long one, Renjun’s mixing with grunts. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body vibrating in Renjun’s hold. You hear his erotic vocals stutter at the feeling of you tightening around him, creaming him. Oh my god, you hear.

Renjun comes right after, his own white coating your insides. The warmth of it is as comforting as Renjun himself. Renjun’s hips still as his orgasm diffuses, keeping himself fully sheathed inside your perfect body. He exhales heavy breaths against your shoulder before lifting his head. It feels like it weighs a ton right now, but he wants to see you. You make eye contact, wordlessly staring into each other’s eyes–maybe, even, each other’s souls–for a few long moments.

“Y/n?”

You swallow thickly, tongue licking your lips as you try to come back to your body. “Hmm?”

Renjun takes your face in his hand, looking down at you with shining eyes. He kisses your nose with his nose. “I think I might be in love with you.” He sounds vulnerable, but more importantly: he sounds certain, despite his phrasing.

Your eyes scan his face–every perfect feature. You feel the need to memorize them at this very moment, as if you’d never get another chance to see them. Funny, considering you intend on seeing them as much as you possibly can for the rest of your life. 

The silence lingers on too long. Renjun is patient, like always. 

“I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Renjun grins through his exhausted state. He wraps both arms under your back, squeezing tightly around your waist. He hugs you to himself, making you laugh as he rolls over until you’re laying comfortably on top of him. You’re still connected at the crotch.

“I think that’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me,” he says, finally releasing his tight squeeze. He keeps his arms around you, one hand tracing lines up and down your back with his fingertips. That’s the best thing I’ve ever said, you think to yourself, closing your eyes to enjoy this moment.

[sashi-ya]

𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑩: 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑿 「cuts of freedom: part 4」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: ok, ok! since you've been asking for a continuation, here it is! thank you for your support + were you expecting some kind of drama? if so, wait for yet another part then 🙊 tw: mdni! sex explicit scenes. Soshi is a little hurt so he is not going to be as active as usual. more of a romantic chapter. they are on the early stages of a rs so doubts are all over. oral (given). riding. nipple play kinda. wc: 3k // part1: cuts of freedom // part 2: かんぱい！// part 3: stuffed // masterlist

He got hurt. that fight wasn’t easy, and yet he still wanted to keep fighting. “You should go to rest!” Ashiro Taichou scolded him, and he finally complied.

That same day, nobody wanted breakfast. All of you wanted to sleep, rest, pass out on your beds. And maybe too late for lunch everybody started waking up…

Like zombies, you all drag towards the dining room. Those with pain on their limbs, and those who have no visible injuries are all equally hungry.

You sit down next to Kikoru, and while she seems a lot more energetic than you, she is still sleepy. You grab something to eat, scanning the place to find him anywhere.

Despite him having a couple of bad injuries, he only spent a couple of hours at the medical centre. And so, you waited for his happy smile to appear and salute you all.

However, the food is almost completely gone, and he hasn’t appeared yet. The one who does, actually, is your captain, Mina.

“I came to salute and thank you for your hard work, guys. We’ve decided to let you all have a relax day. Keep in mind that if necessary we might need to call you back for duty”

Everybody. Absolutely. Went. Crazily happy.

You could or not ask for your vice-captain, but it would be… suspicious. You don’t want people getting in the way, not because it was forbidden. But because people will talk… and the risk, the secret you both have is exhilarating enough to keep it in between you and him.

Though the mystery of where he was, was discovered some minutes after with a “ping” on your phone…

16:02>VC Hoshina: are you o.o.d already? 16:03>you: yes, how do you know? 16:05>VC Hoshina: who do you think requested Ashiro Taichou for you all to have a day off? let’s have a night in at my place tonight. I’ll make dinner. Be ready at 5, I’ll be outside. 16:05>you:  outside? Together? Are you sure? aren’t you supposed to be resting? 16:06>you: yep, you coming home with me so you can take care of me… 😏

A date? A night in? His place? are we really dating? Are we a… couple?

It is taking you all you got not to show your happy smile -you do anyway-. It feels too good to be real. You wonder how his place might look like? What is he going to cook? Which clothes should you bring?

Ultimately, and exactly 10 minutes prior your set meting point, you are ready. You pick the sexiest underwear you could probably have while living at the base. -sports bra and panties- and little toiletries. Your backpack isn’t heavy, but your stomach is. Despite everything you two have experienced together, the first time you are actually on a date with nobody around will be this.

“Ready?” he asks,  peeking from the windows of his car. Black, exquisite, modern, expensive. What else would you expect?

“Yes ~” you whisper, smiling sexily.

Once you are inside and you have fastened the seat belt on, Soshiro comes closer to your lips. His fingers land on your chin, pulling you ever so softly towards his.

“Don’t give me that look, or I’ll fuck you right here” he whispers, planting a peck soon after.

You gasp silently; strong, funny, handsome, charismatic, and such a player… your heart skips quite some beats, and only the roaring of the car engine is able to break the enchantment you have fallen in.

Of course, the ride ended up pretty fast. Despite Soshiro having his house, the Hoshina family manor, he prefers to rent a very modest -not really, his is disgustingly rich- apartment closer to the base for obvious reasons.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the base. Wanna come back?” he asks, this time as serious as he can be.

“No, I was only intrigued about your lifestyle. Everything around here looks beautiful, Hoshina fuku Taicho” you murmur, following him inside the elevator.

He giggles; and instants later, when the lift doors close, he smirks. Eyes now open, sloppy but sexy, looking at you like a kaiju to subjugate, making you take little steps back against you encounter the mirrored wall behind.

You know how men turn when inside elevators…

“So-shi-ro” he corrects you; even him feels the need to forget for some hours about your jobs.

“so…shi…ro ~” you purr.

His hands end up on the railing behind you, on each side of your hips. His chest, chiselled to perfection, closer to yours. His lips, even closer than before.

“I would very much like to fuck you right here, too. There are cameras. I wouldn’t mind if you want to videotape us, but you are mine… and I don’t want anybody else to see you”

You swallow, once again your legs turned weak. And your brain? Stopped “braining”.

The doors open, and inside the apartment you both go. With wet panties, you try to act as if the last interaction never happened.

“Welcome ~” he sings, taking his boots off.

Inside, of course, everything seems more expensive than a whole year worth of salary, so you try not to touch anything. There aren’t many decorative pieces, but definitely the ones that garnish the walls are various blades shining their metallic glitter with white led lights.

Ahead, a big glass wall let’s your eyes infuse in a dying sun over the city of Tachikawa’s golden hour.

“What a beautiful view” you murmur, taking off your shoes.

“A panoramic view that will sooner or later be destroyed by those bitches…” he sighs, surrounding your waist with his arms from behind.

Soshiro’s chin rests on your shoulder; his aura feels a lot more romantic and calmed. It seems as if he really wanted a chill night with you and not just a lustful chain of sexual desires unleashed.

“Are you feeling ok? Does anything hurt?” you ask, worried. He didn’t seem very hurt while driving but he is strong to ignore any pain.

“Mhh? I think so. Though, that thing… was scary” he is as honest as he can be while turning you around to face him.

His eyes are beautifully tinted in orange, as the light of sunset reflects on them. His hair, purple and black, frame a sweet face. The sound of a feng shui little fountain takes over with infinite drops falling on dancing pieces of bamboo branches.

“Thank you for inviting me over…” you whisper, getting drunk on the handsome features you fell for.

Soshiro smiles softly, placing his forehead on yours. Both close your eyes, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of a private refugee. For once, maybe for some hours, there is peace in your minds.

“You don’t need to be invited to come here” he whispers back, placing a kiss on your forehead, leaving you speechless… Is this the confirmation he is going for real with you?

Soon, and after a very deep kiss, tinted in love and lust, he tells you to wait for him.

You use such time to enjoy for a little longer those outstanding views of the city, but what you will watch at next will be a lot more worth it to look at…

Dressed in yukata, Soshiro looks a lot more relaxed than before. And you, well… you try not to die to such show off of autochthone beauty scattered in front of you.

“You- wow…” you simply express. “Sorry, the bandages feel more comfortable if I am wearing lose clothes…”

He enjoys your needy eyes scanning him up and down, and soon asks you to follow him to the kitchenette where he prepares a series of very sharp objects to cook with.

“You know why squad 3 was happy at first when I joined?” he asks, taking fresh -very fresh and expensive- salmon out of the fridge.

“Mmm… ‘cause you were funny?” you joke. You know it is probably because of his skills.

He looks at you a little annoyed, but soon brush it off with a silly laugh.

“No! it is because Mina can’t handle knives. So, I, naturally being the great swordsman I am -and also great cook-, I was the one in charge of cutting the ingredients for them”

You giggle; you knew Mina didn’t have such skill… but at that point?

“Then mr. cook swordsman, please delight me with your skills” you purr, bending over the counter isle. Your collar allows the very beginning of your breasts to show, but Soshiro knows very well that he should focus on not cutting himself instead of it.

He scoffs, and precisely begins cutting thin slices of salmon. The way his sharp blade sections that pinkish flesh makes an act that to some might be barbaric, a ravishing image to look at.

Soshiro’s profile shows a tensing mandible, with muscles moving along with concentration and technique. It reminds you to the times you’ve seen him train minus the sweat -not that you were complaining about it, actually-

The way his yukata opens just enough for you to admire his pale flesh, obliges you to bite the insides of your mouth; to cross your legs enough as a natural reflex to satisfy the demands of your femininity.

Once those fine pieces of fish have been cut, they are put to rest to the side. Soshiro proceeds to grab a bowl with freshly cooked rice from the fridge, followed by the ingredients to assemble the nigiri.

He takes a swift look at you from the side; his smirk, makes you shiver. He knows he looks hot while doing this, and he will continue to do so for as long as he wants it to.

The way he cups a little ball of rice into his palm, and how he spreads the spicy wasabi on it, reminds you of how good his hands are when he touches you… so sensual, delicate, precise.

You can’t help but get lost into what he is doing, with a silly in love face, you allow him to continue in complete silence.

And once he is finished with the nigiri, he begins to prepare a sweet sauce that you assume must contain mango.

“Try the sauce”  he offers, with a silver spoon.

You walk around the counter and allow him to feed you the preparation right into your mouth. As sexy as possible, and as delicious as it can be, you enjoy the taste that’s also followed by his lips being pressed on yours. A kiss so sweet with little hints of citric, a kiss that threatens diner to be forgotten.

Soshiro lifts you up on top of the table; leaving the preparations on the side. His yukata opens a little bit more, showing off protruding -so delicious- collar bones, his bare chest and the very beginning of bandages tied around his waist.

You open your legs for him to come closer, but now that you’ve seen the bandages you make sure you are absolutely delicate with your movements.

 He kisses you again and again; he is soft and sweet, and absolutely sensual as well.

“Here” he murmurs, once he is over with your swollen lips and brings one of the pieces of sushi he just created to your mouth. Bare fingers, as traditionally as can be, he feeds you.

Delighted, you enjoy the savoury mix with the sweet sauce.

“So good, Soshiro… you were right, you are a wonderful cook” you murmur, still enjoying the piece in your mouth.

“Told you ~” he giggles, bragging about an undeniable truth.

You giggle too, this time grabbing a piece with your hands and giving it to him right into his mouth.

It might be a different experience for the both of you; a relaxing, mature, romantic and sensual night it…

And when the nigiri are definitely over, and your hunger -for food- satisfied, Soshiro invites you to yet another part of his department; the balcony. Such place is anything but small, but it is definitely cozy. It also communicates right with his room.

“I already told you this, but this view is breath-taking” you purr. “I think so, yes” he whispers, grazing your nape and neck with loving hand and looking right into your eyes.

Your cheeks burn; your stomach gets full of dancing, kaiju sized butterflies.

“I love this side of you…” you mumble, hugging him, placing your head on his chest with utmost care. “You made me feel like doing this” he answers, kissing the crown of your head.

Both enjoy the night views; laughing at an Izumo tecs drone falling down because it encountered a tree in its way. Of course, Soshiro laughs the loudest, and you can’t help but hug him harder as his fangs protrude like if he were a little kitten.

“auch-“ he grimaces. “oh, oh god. I’m so sorry!!” you panic, remembering his waist is covered in bandages. “take me… to… my bed!” he acts as if he was about to die, and you try to supress the laughter.

Soshiro -still acting up- opens the sliding glass doors of his room, and inside you both go.

He pounces into bed, dragging you with him. And despite him definitely knowing that he shouldn’t have done that, he brushes the pain on his belly away.

“You good?” “NO. CURE ME”

Soshiro holds you closer, snuggling with you on a king-sized bed. Finally, comfortable, you two lay together. And still, there isn’t room for anything in between you both.

For quite some time you stay in silence nuzzled into his chest. His perfume, so delicious, gets you drunk in love. His skin, pale and soft, like always, lures you to bite and kiss. His hand, heavy and warm, plays with your hair, slowly.

“I want to make love to you” Soshiro suddenly says, breaking the silence and stopping your heart.

“You…” you whisper, feeling a heat wave taking over your cheeks, nose and ears.

“With no hurries, nor worries” he continues, bringing his hand down your spine and into the small of your back. Soshiro pulls you even closer to him, with your core pressed against the side of his leg.

Your lips meet again, you don’t have to say “yes” to his proposal. You just want it to happen now. And soon, you become undressed in one bit.

However, you don’t want him -yet- to do all the work tonight. And perhaps, as a way of thanking him for this night, you want to pleasure him first.

Standing up without saying much, you crawl in between his legs. Your hands reach for the sash that holds his yukata together, and slowly as he wanted, you untie it.

Soshiro smirks, biting his own lip with sharp fangs.

“Put yourself comfortable; you cooked, now dessert is on me”

He gets, indeed, comfortable as he puts both pillows underneath his nape and his hands are ready to fall upon your head once your mouth begins to work on his sex.

Hard, of course, he waits. Hard, dripping with wet boxers, a damp stain on grey underwear you make bigger licking over it.

Soshiro squirms; your oral is delicious, as his taste is to you. Yet, the fabric isn’t as good as his bare skin. So, you pull from the hem of his boxer briefs, urging him to help you with the wiggling of his hips.

You place a kiss right on the tip, and your hand surrounds his rock-hard shaft. You can tell he is more than sensitive to your lips, as he begins contorting little by little.

But it is not enough pleasure. And deep inside your mouth, you let his sex slide in. Hitting faster your throat, his moans and grunts are a delightful symphony of lust.

“Honey…ugh…” he whines, pulling your head back from your hair, as pleasure seems to be high enough to make him burst.

“What? ~ already cumming?” you ask, kinda giggling and still pumping his dick up and down.

“In fact, yes! Come here, let me fuck you- I- ugh-“ Soshiro says, trying to stand up, soon noticing the wound in his stomach hurts more than what he thought. Perhaps the pain killers have already lost its effect, or it was the fact his muscles tensed and spasmed.

“Calm down, vice-captain… you are convalescent, let me do all the work for you” “It was me who wanted to make love to you” “maybe tomorrow morning…”

You, knowing that even if he is not on top he will make love to you either way, climb on his lap. As you promised, you will be the one doing the work for now.

One of your hands drive his shaft right into your entrance, and for some seconds you remain there, with it barely penetrating you. With both of you already moaning to the feeling. With your inner thighs shaking, ready to crumble and let Soshiro’s sex to go deep inside of you.

Eager. Desperate.

You let your hips flop onto his, allowing his dick to be finally deep, so very deep inside of you. Your hands fall on the backrest, for a better grip before you start riding.

As for Soshiro, he squeezes your butt cheeks, pressing you harder against him. No matter how painful his wound may turn, his body acts on his own. He follows your movements, sync to the rhythm of your ups downs and arounds.

He enjoys the view of your bouncy chest right above his face, making it impossible not to want to bite them. And so, he does. As you ride, he sucks, bites, nibbles on your nipples.

With one hand on the small of your back, and the other grabbing one of your breasts, Soshiro and you sail to ecstasy surely and despite wanting to go slow… none of you could stop your bodies from going at least feral.

So feral your hearts, about to pounce from your chests. So feral, with moaning loudly, with nobody from the squad to hear you whine.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFeral, feral, feral. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe sound of his phone stops it all. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ [Okonogi-chan calling…]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ "Why is she calling, Soshiro?"

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

New Dynamic

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter wants to start a life together but you seem awfully reluctant. He doesn’t like it.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

You’re in the kitchen, leaning over the counter as you cut some vegetables for dinner. You have your AirPods on, so you never heard the door opening nor do you see Peter pressed against the wall, work bag still in his hand as he lovingly gazes at you. 

You look good, too good. Like you belong there, at his apartment, in his kitchen, making him dinner. It’s almost like a dream.

He quickly puts down the bag and silently reaches towards you, back hugging you. You practically jump from the small scare, but you relax as soon as you realize it’s just Peter. 

Your adorable boyfriend. 

Peter removes your ear pieces and presses a soft kiss on your cheek, his hug getting tighter. 

“Hey there. How was your day, babe?” you ask, continuing your task. His fingers sneak towards the waistband of your leggings and you swear you can feel butterflies on your belly from his touch. 

“Boring without you.” he replies, nuzzling your neck. You let out a giggle upon hearing his response and he gives your waist a small squeeze. 

“I’m serious, without you my day was absolutely bland. Wishing I was here with you instead.” his voice sounds serious and you know he’s telling the truth.

He never lies to you, you know that. 

“How was your day then?” He curiously asks. You shrug your shoulders, pulling away from him to place the vegetables on a pan.

“Also boring. Sent some job applications but haven’t gotten an answer yet.” your answer makes Peter frown, his arms crossing as he watches you work on dinner.

He knows exactly why you haven’t gotten any answers, he’s made sure to call each company to let them know that you’re no longer applying for the jobs but it’s a matter of time till someone reaches out to you with a job offer. 

“My company has offered me the chance of working remotely from home. That means more time for us to be together. You’re always in the apartment and that way, so would I. I start Monday from home.” he casually drops the information, eyes carefully analyzing you. 

“That’s awesome, babe! You’ll get to relax a bit.” you exclaim, rushing towards him to briefly hug him before returning to the stove. 

“Yeah and I was also thinking that we should keep this dynamic, you know?” he mentions.

“What dynamic?” you absently ask, grabbing a spoon. 

“Us together in the apartment. Me working and you doing the house chores. It’s a good balance.” you look at him with confusion. 

“I mean, yeah but only until I find a job again.” you say, feeling a bit uneasy over the way Peter talks about this. 

“But you really don’t have to. Find a new job, I mean. I can provide for both of us, you know that.” you almost drop the spoon, shocked at his words. 

“No, Peter.”

“No? Why not?” he furrows his brows, annoyance tingling him. You don’t answer and he starts losing his patience at you. 

“What? You don’t want us to spend time together, is that it?” he angrily throws and you involuntarily take a step behind. 

“It’s not like that, Peter. I just… I don’t know.” you hesitate.

“You don’t know? Babe, this is a great chance to move on to the next step. Have a domestic normalcy. Living together, getting married and then starting a family. Why not take the chance? I thought we always wanted that, didn’t we?” he adds, looking away from you as if you’ve hurt his feelings. 

It does make you feel bad, you’re lucky enough that your boyfriend offered to let you stay with him when you lost your job. He’s financially taken care of you ever since and in return you take care of all the domestic aspects.

And it hasn’t been bad, not at all. 

You’re just not sure if right now it’s the right time to take that next step, but you have a feeling that Peter will wrestle you into agreeing, if you dare to say no. 

“We’ll try it out then, okay?” you try to reconcile, giving Peter a small smile. You seem to have said the right thing because his whole body language changes, becoming lighter. 

He lunches towards you, pulling you into his arms as he lifts you in the air, kissing any part of your skin that he can reach. It’s so goofy that you laugh, thinking everything is fine now.

Once you get a new job, you’ll explain it to Peter and reason with him, he’ll understand.  

Positivity fills you but little do you know that Peter will never let you back on your word. 

[azsazz]

In Storm

Rancher!Cassian x Reader

Summary: You want a baby and Cassian looks all too good in his flannel.

Warnings: Conversation about having a baby.

Word Count: 1,098

Notes: The Cassian era is era-inggg

_________________________________________

Rainy mornings are your favorite.

The sky cracking open and letting her feelings loose means that you get to sleep in, that your husband’s warm body holds you tightly as rain patters the windows in pretty songs. It means gentle calloused hands roaming your curves, soft breaths as he mouths against your skin. It means a slow and sensual fucking with a steaming hot bath following, where you can lean back into the comfort of Cassian and rest the day away.

But rainy mornings are not his favorite.

You find your husband standing in front of the large windows of the living room, staring out into the expanse of land you get to call yours. Yesterday’s flannel hangs loose around his broad shoulders, unbuttoned from when he’d hastily thrown it on to examine the conditions of the farm under the onslaught of rain. His hair is tousled, not yet thrown up into a haphazard bun the way he does when he works up a sweat from milking the cows or fixing the fence. His feet are bare, just as yours are, the hardwood flooring holding a chilled bite to it as you near his side.

Stepping up next to Cassian, you gaze out the window as well. The weather hadn’t called for a storm but the springtime is unpredictable. The horses graze in the pasture, seemingly unaffected by the drizzling skies. Their coats are dark with water but they’re getting on with their days as if the sun is shining brightly. 

Lightning cracks the sky and Cassian grunts, displeased. You can see it in the downwards slope of his mouth that he’s unhappy with the fact that he hadn’t brought the animals in yesterday, when he knew he smelled the metallic tang of a storm creeping in.

“They’re animals,” you try to soothe, “They should be used to it.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the stallions,” Cassian responds, not even sparing you a glance as he stares at the horses. “But my mares shouldn’t be out in this storm. Especially not Carrington. Ol’ girl can have that foal anytime now and she’s only out in the rain because you were adamant she needed ‘fresh air.’” His voice pitches at the end in a terrible impersonation of you and you scowl.

“So now it’s my fault?” you ask, incredulously. Cassian lets you sidle up to his side anyway, slipping between the opening of his flannel and his bare chest. You nearly growl with delight because he’s so warm. Turning your head, you press your lips to his pec. “You’re grumpy when it rains.”

“‘M grumpy because there’s chores that need to be done,” Cassian sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I should go out there.” 

Out there looks miserable. The trail leading up to the barn is muddy, puddles of rain scattering the path. The rain has kept its steady pour since you’d come down here to find your husband, and if you think he’s grumpy now, you know he’d be absolutely miserable after working out in the rain all day.

“Or, you can stay in here and we can spend a little time together,” you drawl, trailing your fingers along his chest. His muscles clench the closer to his waistline that you get. 

His hazel gaze cuts down to yours, “Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Cassian muses, eyes sparkling in the way that you know you have him. 

“Won’t be enough for me until I look like your best girl Carrington out there, nice and full with child.” 

Cassian’s fingers still from where they’re tracing patterns on your hip. “You really want one, don’t you?” He asks softly.

You shrug. It hasn’t been something you’ve talked about much, a child. Cassian is busy running the ranch and ever since Rhysand and Feyre moved closer to the hustle and bustle of the city to raise Nyx, you haven’t had anyone to really talk to besides the mares. And they just whinny and snort at everything you say. 

“It would mean extra hands around the farm,” you try to play off, cheeks heating. You slide from his side, eager to dispel the conversation your husband surely doesn’t want to have at this very moment. Not while Carrington is getting rained on, Gods forbid. “What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes? An omelet? I just gathered the eggs yesterday morning so they’ll be nice and fresh.”

“Hey,” Cassian calls gently, snagging your hand as you try to dip away. He tugs you back to his chest, bushing some of your sleep mussed hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear so he can caress your cheek. His hazel eyes search yours, and the frown tugging his lips downward makes your heart ache. “Don’t walk away from me, sweetheart. You want a baby?”

Your eyes well with tears the longer he stares at you. His brows are pulled tight as he waits patiently for your response. The emotion in your throat is thick, but you nod, voice coming out raspy with it when you answer. “More than anything.” 

Cassian nods a little, taking in your answer. His throat bobs but he’s agreeing, nodding firmer. “Then let’s have one.” 

Your entire body locks up at his words. You didn’t think it would be so easy to convince him. All you had to do all of this time was ask? Surely, that is not the case.

But Cassian would be so wonderful with a child in his arms. He’d love them just as perfectly as he loves you, as he cares for the animals of his ranch. You’ve seen him with the foals and chicks and lambs. How he holds each one with care and parades them around the ranch, kissing their little heads and talking to them in soft voices. He’s made to be a father, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

“We’re trying to have a baby,” you breathe, clutching onto him. An all-consuming feeling rushes through your body, nerves perhaps, because holy shit, you and Cassian are going to try for a baby. “We’re trying for a baby!”

Cassian grins, mirroring your excitement. He pulls you into his arms and you lock your legs around his waist immediately, diving down to capture his mouth against yours. The kiss is exhilarating, hot and sensual as they both of you settle into the feeling that maybe this time next year, it could be you giving birth instead of Carrington.

You could not be more excited for the adventure you and your husband are about to embark on.

[sturnsbaebackup]

can you write something about how the fans have started speculating something between you and chris??

RUMORS FLY - CHRIS STURNIOLO

summary: you and chris have been talking, and the fans are starting to notice.

warnings: none!

-

as nick and matt argue about god knows what into their microphones, chris stares down at his phone with a small smile. “chris what’s your opinion on this?” nick asks, but it appears chris hasn’t heard him.

“chris, get off of your fucking phone. we’re on the podcast! who are you even texting that’s so important right now?” matt groans. quickly after being called out chris puts his phone away. he’s very clearly flustered, and he says, “i was just um— texting nate!”

“texting nate? with that big of a smile on your face? i didn’t know nate was so funny… but whatever can you please just get off of your phone and help us settle this debate,” matt says, glaring at chris with a wondering eye. not even his brothers knew about you and chris, but they were bound to find out soon enough.

chris feels his phone buzz on his lap, and he waits until he has a chance to answer it. he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s recording because he doesn’t want to stop talking to you, so he tried to multitask, but clearly he’s not very good at it.

nick suddenly gets up and walks over to chris, snatching his phone from his hands. as he does so, he see’s your contact name and the photo of you and chris cuddling at the top of the screen. “oh my god that’s—“ he blurts out, but immediately stops himself. “—enough! i’m taking your phone until the end of the episode” nick says, immediately catching himself before he reveals you and chris’ secret.

chris’ cheeks turn bright pink, and his heart rate is through the roof. he knows he’ll be grilled with questions once they’re done recording, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. eventually the pod is over, and immediately nick hands chris his phone with a smirk.

“have fun texting y/n!” nick shouts as chris begins walking downstairs to his room. a loud gasp can be heard from matt, and chris can feel his cheeks burning up. he scurries into his room and replies to your texts, and immediately opens tiktok to rewatch the tiktok you guys had made a couple days ago. he scrolls through the endless comments, and begins to notice a reoccurring pattern.

“are they dating?!”

“oh i ship this”

“i think they’re dating! i mean, y/n is wearing his brand…”

and so forth. he bites his cheeks to hold his smile in, but ultimately fails when he sees all of the support even when you guys haven’t gone public. as he scrolls through his phone, a gentle knock can be heard on his door.

“come in nick!” he exclaims, not even looking up from his phone. he knows it’s nick because matt has a tendency to just walk in, or bang on the door. one or the other.

“can i ask you something?” nick asks, sitting in the end of chris’ bed.

“yeah, anything,” chris says, putting his phone down and fixing his posture.

“why didn’t you tell me and matt?”

“um— well we aren’t really telling anyone. i mean we’re not dating yet, but—“ he pause, “actually i don’t really know, honestly. i guess i’m just nervous that if i start telling people things will go south,” he shrugs.

“are you planning to ask her out soon?”

“yeah, i am actually. i was gonna do it this weekend, and make it a big surprise for the fans but now i don’t know. the fans are already speculating things, so i feel like i should just scratch the whole big idea i had and ask her the next time we hang out.”

“oh! that was also one of my questions! how the hell have you been hanging out with y/n and both me and matt didn’t know about it?! we live together and i still didn’t know!”

chris chuckles, “there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me nick. and it’s gonna stay that way, so if you could stop asking me a million questions that would be great,” he sarcastically grins, and nick just rolls his eyes. nick closes the door behind him, and chris immediately goes back to texting you.

—

the podcast episode was posted a few days ago, and immediately the fans have been questioning who chris was texting. there have been many many guesses, but most have been you. chris feels like it’s his fault, and the last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re being led on, so there’s only one thing to do.

“y/n, i have a question,” chris says nervously, looking down at you as your head rests on his arm.

“what is it?” you ask, knowing exactly what it is. or hoping, at least.

“well, obviously i like you. a lot. and i was just wondering if you wanted to make this official? will you be my girlfriend?”

“of course i will chris, is that even a question?” you giggle, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of chris’ shoulders. he smiles at you and gently places his hands on your cheeks, pulling your faces towards his. your lips melt together, and your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

you both end up falling asleep in chris’ bed, and while you both nap, you’re unaware that nick and matt both arrive back home. they enter chris’ room after calling his name a few times with no response, only to see you both asleep. of course, them being the immature boys they are, take your guys’ picture. unfortunately, you learn about this the hard way when you see the photo in their photo dump a few days later. you gasp and immediately check the comments, expecting tons of hate comments.

“i knew it was y/n! they’re so cute!”

“AWWW”

“cutest couple ever”

you immediately text chris, and you both share a big grin over the situation. although you never would have expected your situation with chris to have gotten semi-exposed, you were just glad everyone was so supportive.

[starrgazed22]

LET THE GAME RUN OUR DESTINY

Jim Halpert x fem!reader Word count: 900 words Warnings: Nothing, just fluff, I guess. Summary: You decide to play this game you bought, The Sims 2, to cure your boredom in the office.

Another boring day at Dunder Mifflin’s, but not really.

The camera zooms in on your computer monitor from a distance, revealing you’re playing The Sims 2. You hear a door thud, Michael coming out of the office, and you quickly hide The Sims with your mail.

──────

(your interview with the camera crew)

“Jim helped me install this game I bought yesterday, called The Sims. It’s so addicting.” Cut. “No, just random characters, that I chose at the start of the game,” you clear your throat. “No one specific.”

──────

(Jim's separate interview with the crew)

“Yeah, I helped her install it, but if she gets into trouble because of it,” he throws his hand into the air, “I have nothing to do with it.”

──────

The cameraman pans over to your face, catching you being extremely focused on the game.

Time today goes really slowly, but the game is saving it. Not for Jim though. Jim is so bored, he hasn’t talked to you the whole afternoon because of the game. The game literally sucked you in. He decides to walk over to see what you’re playing. You quickly hide it, acting like nothing just happened. Jim raises his eyebrows.

“What? Nothing,” you try to play it cool.

“Come on, let me see! I am curious what it looks like.” He tries.

You blush a little, pretending you’re going through your mail. “No.”

He looks at you hurt. “Alright then, I’ll go back to boring myself, also known as, doing work.” He playfully grunts.

You chuckle at his joke, minimizing the mail window to play the game again.

After some time, the lunch break comes. You decide not to worry about the game being opened, because no one will go around your desk anyway.

Jim, still on a call with a client, signals you to go ahead, and you walk to the break room first. Jim finishes the call, hanging up the phone. He wants to throw away his Jell-O cup, still from the morning. He goes to the nearest trash can, which is next to your desk. He throws it away, suddenly amazed by something on your desk. He leans to get a closer look at your screen. He smiles to himself.

“She did us in that game. Me and her.” He smiles downwards. “Oh, she said those are random characters?” He chuckles. “What a coincidence.” He stretches all the a’s in the last sentence.

Jim finally comes into the break room, sitting down at the table.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey, Jim.” You smile at him as you slurp in your noodles.

“So, how are we doing?” He asks casually.

You respond, not getting the secret message behind it. “I’m doing pretty good, did all the calls Michael told me to do.”

“No...” He chuckles. “I meant, how are we doing?” He asks, pointing his head back to the main room.

You look at him, genuinely confused. Suddenly you realize it. You put your head into your palm, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

Jim chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s okay, really,” he reassures you, sensing your embarrassment. “It’s funny. By the way, thanks for making me look like Prince Charming.”

You peek through your fingers, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have spent a little too much time on your character,” you admit.

Jim grins, taking a bite of his sandwich. He leans back in the chair, the chair making a small squeak. “Alright, so, what’s our story in The Sims? Are we a family? Colleagues? Maybe lovers?” A small smirk plays on his lips.

You feel your cheeks heating up again. “Well, I didn’t get too far with the storyline yet, but we’re housemates. We live together.”

“Oh, really?” Jim raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Housemates, huh?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “It just seemed easier than having to switch between two houses all the time, you know. Plus it saves money.”

“Yeah, right,” Jim says with a big amused smile on his lips. He leans forward, his eyes locking with yours.

You stare at him, heart pounding. “What?”

Jim shrugs, still smiling. “What if we let that game decide what we do in real life.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

He chuckles softly. “Whatever happens in the game we have to do. Up for the challenge?”

You feel a smile spreading across your face. “Alright, then.”

Jim’s grin widens. “Great.” He stands up, finishing his sandwich. “Shall the computer decide our destiny.”

You shake your head with a smile, feeling a rush of excitement as you watch Jim leave the room.

You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee before heading back to your desk. You walk up to your desk, stopping in disbelief. You see the screen, the characters stopped in time while they’re kissing. You look over at Jim, who is trying to hold in his laugh, avoiding eye contact. You deduce he did that. But you still feel a bit of blush run over your cheeks.

“Very funny, Jim.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile.

“What! You agreed to let it run our destiny.” He shrugs his shoulders at you.

You resume the gameplay, seeing what the characters will do next.

“Wow, they’re heading to bed now,” you announce with sarcastically no emotion.

He bursts out laughing, trying to keep quiet.

Such a dork.