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wosoamazing · 3 months

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Pregnant

Summary: Katie and Caitlin are pregnant.

Warnings: Morning Sickness (throwing up), negative tests, pregnancy.

A/N: This is the first fic in the new McFoord Baby Series, its not the best, in my opinion (but they do get better). I hope you like it, I have some other stories in the works for this, but if there is anything you would like to see in this series let me know.

“Katie, are you sure you want to do this?” Caitlin asked her as they stood in the kitchen preparing for their first step to being Mums. Katie just nodded, keeping her eyes closed, she hated needles like really hated needles. Caitlin gave the injection to Katie and then wrapped her arms around her.

“That’s it, that's the first step, we might get to be Mum’s” She said, placing a kiss on Katie's lips. “I’m so excited”

_____

The next month Katie was moody, getting mad more often than usual, receiving a yellow card in almost every game. Jonas pulled Katie into a meeting about her behaviour and that's when he found out they were trying for a baby, he forgave Katie but told her to try and control her temper.

_____

Egg Retrieval Day and Transfer Day had been successful, which is what had led them here, standing in the bathroom, waiting for the timer to go off, to see if they were pregnant or not.

“This is so painful, why do they take so long,” almost as if the universe had heard Katie the timer went off, the two giddy women quickly flipped over the three pregnancy tests, immediately the mood in the room dropped, all three were negative.

“I’m sorry,” Katie said before she burst into tears, Caitlin quickly wrapped her arms around her and held her tight.

“There is nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault, and anyway, it's rare for it to work on the first try, Mini told us that remember, we can try again, but only if you want to.”

Try again was exactly what they did, which is how they found themselves sitting in the Kitchen, of Mini’s apartment, Katie had been feeling unwell for the past few days but she couldn’t bring herself to do a test, especially considering when the IVF clinic did the blood test two weeks after the transfer it was negative, they decided to not start another cycle straight away, deciding to go on international break and then talk about how they felt and the steps forward. There was not really any chance at all that Katie could be pregnant, and even though they both knew the pregnancy tests would be negative. They both still couldn't bear to flip another set of pregnancy tests for them to be negative, joining the other four negative sets. However Mini told them to just do one, that mistakes can happen sometimes and sometimes the blood tests are too early and that it would be better to know for sure rather than just assuming Katie wasn’t pregnant. She even offered to be there for them and find out herself to then tell them, which was an offer they took up, hence why they were in her kitchen. They brought Kyra with them to make it seem less weird as to why they were both visiting. Kyra, Harper and Clara were sitting in the living room.

“You ready?” Mini asked the pair who sat in front of her, they both tentatively nodded. She flipped over the tests and a small smile appeared on her face. “You’re going to be Mum’s” “Wait what,” “Really?” She nodded showing the pair the tests.

“Oh my God, we’re going to be Mum’s Cait,” Katie exclaimed as she pulled Caitlin in for a hug.

The three of them walked out into the living room. “Sad” Harper said as she pointed to the pair, “They’re not sad Harper,” “But crying”

“These are happy tears, Harps,” Caitlin said as she went to sit on the floor with Harper and Kyra.

_____

A few mornings after finding out she was pregnant, Katie found herself feeling very sick, as the pair of them sat on the couch eating breakfast.

“Cait, I’m just going to go to the bathroom real quick,” Katie said as she stood up, walking to the bathroom, Caitlin was a little concerned for Katie as she had been acting differently that morning, she also had been blinking hard which Caitlin had discovered Katie did when she was in pain or unwell, so the Australian decided to follow her into the bathroom. She found Katie leant against the wall next to the toilet, she had her arms wrapped around her stomach, and her knees were pulled into her chest.

“Katie, Babe, it’s just me,” the Australian said before sitting down next to her, Katie’s eyes were shut and she didn't want to startle her, Katie moved closer to Caitlin so that their sides were touching, resting her head on Caitlin’s shoulder, who moved to put one arm around Katie, “What’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up. I hate throwing up, I don’t want to be sick, Cait.” Caitlin started to move her thumb against Katie’s arm, in a gesture of comfort, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s okay, I know you don’t like it, but I’m here, and if you ever feel this way please tell me, I’ll come and just sit here with you. We’re going to get through this together okay.”

The pair sat there for ten minutes before Caitlin spoke again, “How bout we get ready for training and head off, maybe some fresh air will help.”

They were standing in the locker room talking to their friends when Caitlin saw Katie's demeanour change, it was ever so subtle and no one else would have noticed but it was something Caitlin could’ve spotted from a mile away. She walked up to Katie and wrapped her arms around her waist giving her a hug from behind before whispering in her ear “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

Katie followed Caitlin into the bathroom, they both walked into a stall and locked the door before finding themselves in essentially the same positions as they were in at home, except the only difference was this time after a few minutes Katie threw up, Caitlin rubbed her back as she did, saying encouraging words to her whilst she also messaged someone on her phone.

Katie stopped throwing up, and returned to her previous position, “Do you feel any better?” “A little bit”

They both heard footsteps as someone entered the toilets “Cait you messaged?” It was Steph, Katie’s eyes grew in panic, Caitlin held her tighter as she explained “It’s okay, it's just Steph, she knew we were trying, she found me one day after a negative and I was having a moment, I explained to her. She won't tell anyone, and she doesn't know about this yet. I just need to go and talk to Jonas quickly, she will stay with you, she is good, don’t worry”

Caitlin stood up and walked out of the cubical, “Can you just look after Katie for me quickly? I’m just going to go talk to Jonas, I’ll explain later.”

Caitlin came back from talking to Jonas to find Steph and Katie sitting in the locker room.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise the girls had gone out, thank you for looking after her though, but you can go out now, it's all good”

“No its no problem I’ll wait for you”

“Katie, Babe, I spoke to Jonas and we both agree that you shouldn’t do any training today, he said we could go home if we needed but I didn't think you would want to go home, so he suggested that you could lie down for a bit on one of the physio beds or that you could sit off to the side and watch training. It’s up to you, but if you do want to go home I can take you home, that isn’t a problem”

“No, I want to stay, could I maybe go lie down?” “That sounds like a good idea, do you want me to take you down, or-” “No it's all good, I’ll go myself, love you.” “Love you too babe.”

“So I hear congratulations are in order” Steph said as she sat next to Caitlin who was tying her boots, “wait did she tell you?” “No, I kind of figured, but I asked and she said yeah. But seriously congratulations, you are both going to be fantastic Mum’s” “Thanks Steph, you ready to head out?” “Yeah. But why don’t you want to talk about it? Is everything okay? You guys have wanted this for so long, I thought you would be more excited” Caitlin let out a heavy sigh, and looked down at her feet.

“Yeah, it's just that, it's been hitting Katie hard, and I just feel so bad. I mean we both wanted this but like-” “Caitlin, its okay to not feel 100% sure about this, it's a big change.” Steph said cutting her fellow Aussie off before pulling her in for a hug.

_____

“Um, so we just had something to tell you all, um well….” Katie said, prompting Caitlin to pull out a mini Arsenal shirt, which had Little Teammate printed on it.

“Oh my god are you having a baby?” “Yeah, expected mid November”

“Congratulations you guys, I didn't know you were trying,” “Thank you, but yeah we didn't tell many people.”

“Oh that's why.” Kyra said a little louder than intended to Alessia causing everyone to look at Kyra who looked like a deer in the headlights, not wanting to reveal what this announcement had just answered.

“Um well….” Kyra stammered.

“Kyra thought Katie was looking fatter than usual.” Alessia threw Kyra under the bus, which caused the Irish women to cry. Kim and Leah directed the team out quickly, to give the two women some space.

“I’m sorry,” Katie said as Caitlin pulled her in for a hug, this was a symptom of her pregnancy Katie hated, maybe even more than the morning sickness, she was so emotional and kept crying.

“You have nothing to apologise for, after all you are growing our daughter.” The two women sent each other beaming smiles, they were going to have a little girl soon.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x reader #mcfoord #arsenal wfc #matildas

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holylulusworld · 2 months

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BFG (6)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: fluff, light smut, unprotected sex, cowgirl, angst

A/N: Please consider that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (5)

BFG masterlist

“Reacher stay away from KJ for the time being. We need to keep things low.”

You hear Reacher and someone else argue outside of your house. You know the voice. It must be Oscar Finley, the Chief of Detectives of your sleepy little town.

He likes to come around for coffee, a slice of pie, and a conversation. Finley likes that you are not into gossip and are not from Margrave. Once in a while, he sits at your café to talk to you. - If he finds the time.

“I won’t make any promises if he doesn’t leave Y/N and her business alone,” Reacher’s deep voice dominates the conversation. “He got lucky that you and Roscoe stopped me before I killed him.”

“Reacher, we don’t kill people out of anger.”

“You don’t kill them,” you can hear the smirk in Reacher’s voice. “If he doesn’t stay away from my woman, he’ll regret it.”

Your heart flutters listening to the things Reacher says about you. He tells Finley that you are important to him and that he won’t let anyone hurt you.

“I gotta get inside. I promised Y/N to be on time,” Reacher says. “We will meet tomorrow, and talk about our next steps. Keep it low until then.”

“Keep it low?” Finley asks. “You are the one storming into the restaurant like an angry bull only to knock KJ and his friends out.”

Reacher chuckles.

“I mean it. We need to be smart. If what we assume is true, we need to be careful. We don’t want to put Y/N or anyone else in this town in danger.”

“We won’t,” Reacher says and opens your door. He silently closes it and sighs deeply.

“Hi,” you greet Reacher. “How was your…” You gasp when your eyes land on his bloody shirt and split knuckles. “No! You got hurt.” You grab his wrist to guide him upstairs and inside your bedroom. “Sit down, I gotta check on you.”

He takes off his shirt, dropping it to the ground. “It’s not my blood.” Reacher shows you his chest. “See. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Your hands,” you remind him of his split knuckles. “You did something to KJ. Right?”

Reacher watches you walk inside the bathroom to get a first aid kit.

“It’s nothing, peach pie. I had it much worse.”

“That’s no reason to not be worried about you,” you point out as you place the first aid kit on the bed. “I’ll clean the cuts and take care of you.”

“You took very good care of me since we met,” Reacher grabs your hips to guide you between his spread legs. “Why don’t you let me take care of you tonight?” He looks up at you while guiding your hands to his shoulders.

“Reacher,” you breathe his name. “Stop distracting me! I’m angry at you for getting hurt.”

He gives you one of his rare smiles. “Come here, peach pie,” he grabs you and helps you straddle his lap. “Much better. Now, you can check on me while I check on you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you wrap one arm around his neck while he is having a blast groping your ass. “Reacher!”

“My hands are fine, Y/N,” he purrs your name. “It’s nothing, really. I swear it doesn’t even hurt.”

“I’ll clean it either way,” you press your lips to his cheek. “Maybe in the showers to get every inch of you clean.”

“Maybe you should get me dirty before you try to get me clean,” he cocks a brow when you wrap your other arm around his neck too. “Or I’ll get you dirty.”

“You’re so…” He claims your lips in a heated kiss before you can say more. Reacher wraps his strong arms around your body and holds you close to his chest. “Reacher.”

“Come on, peach pie. Let me have a taste of your sweetness again before we go back to scolding me for getting hurt.”

Reacher watches you move on top of him. He grips your hips tighter to guide your movement. “You look so good on top of me,” he husks your name and calls you his sweet peach pie again. “I know you are close.”

You hope that he doesn’t lie. Riding a man is something you don’t feel comfortable most of the time. But you trust Reacher, and he’s strong enough to guide your movement and take every swirl of your hips. “Reacher.”

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let go.” He looks up at you in adoration, mesmerized by the sight of you. “If not, I’ll explode inside of your perfect little cunt.”

“Do it,” you lean over his body to kiss him softly. “Come on. I want to feel it.” You grind into him, pushing yourself and Reacher slowly toward you high. “Fill me up. Leave a reminder that you’ve been here at all.”

It took you two weeks to clean your diner and replace the broken windows. You reopened the diner and acted like nothing happened.

If you show weakness in front of men like KJ, you are done for. They can sense fear and try to hit your weak spot.

Reacher won’t stick around for much longer, even though he spent most of his free time with you.

You heard rumors about the deaths of Kliner, KJ, and some other people involved in money laundry.

You had to hear from Roscoe that one of the victims of KJ’s crimes was Reacher’s brother. Joe Reacher fell victim to his investigations.

Reacher didn’t want to talk about his loss, or what happened when he was not with you.

One night he stormed into your house, told you to hide, and pushed a shotgun into your hands. He came back hours later, battered and bruised but alive.

Reacher spent the night with you, fucking all the tension out of your body. He held you tight and promised that the danger was over and that no one would ever threaten you again.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Sally Ann brings you out of your thoughts. “Are you alright?” she asks, worriedly watching you clean the counter. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you give her a pained smile. You sigh and shake your head. “It’s nothing. Just a little headache.”

The truth is, you are distracted because you count the minutes before Reacher tells you that he will leave town forever.

Reacher never stays in one place for longer than needed.

This won’t change only because you had sex a few times.

The day you feared the most arrived two days later. Reacher packed his things and nervously shuffled around your kitchen. He tried to find the right words to say his goodbyes.

He watched you walk inside the kitchen unsure how to tell you it was time to leave.

You showed mercy and took the lead. There was no use in pretending he’ll stay to be with you.

“So, this is goodbye, I guess,” you step before him to run your hand over his wide chest, gently patting it. “I’m gonna miss having you around to eat the leftovers. You’ve got strong hands to repair things too.”

He chuckles, deep and rich.

“Maybe I’ll come back to taste your peach pie,” he smirks, making you chuckle.

“Reacher don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” your eyes sadden, but you smile, nonetheless. You knew from the beginning that he would leave town sooner than later. “But, if you want to come back one day,” you place the key to your house in his hand and close his hand, “you are welcome to stay here again.”

“If I ever come back to town, it’s for you,” he stuffs the keys in his pocket to cup your face. Reacher kisses you softly, savoring the moment you melt into him.

You wrap your arms around his waistline and hide your face in his chest. Fuck, you will miss him like hell. “If you ever come back, I’ll be very happy. The dog too.”

He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around you to hold you for a while. Reacher whispers your name and kisses your temple a few times before parting from you.

“I should go now,” he whispers.

“I know…”

You reluctantly let go of Reacher and turn to leave the kitchen to have a moment to calm down and push the tears away. You take deep breaths and try not to cry when he follows you.

“If you ever need my help,” he cups your face, “I left a number on your nightstand. She’s a friend and knows how to find me.”

“Okay,” you swallow thickly. “I want you to be careful. Don’t make me find you to slap your ass.”

He chuckles. “I promise to watch my back.” Reacher kisses you one last time. “I swear.”

“Good.”

You watch him step out of your house and wring your hands.

Watching Reacher walk away is hard. It breaks your heart because he takes a part of you with him.

He managed to worm his way into your heart within a few weeks, and you don’t know if you’ll ever recover from this whirlwind romance, or whatever you want to call what you had with him.

When he’s out of sight you close the door and start to cry.

“Fuck,” you curse yourself for falling for him.

How could you do this to yourself?

BFG (7)

Tags in reblog.

#jack reacher #reacher x reader #reacher x female reader #plussized!reader #reacher x you #reacher x y/n #BFG (6)#reacher fanfiction #jack reacher x reader

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hamiltonaf · 8 months

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bestfriends to lovers lewis?🥹

Wingman | Lewis Hamilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x BF ! Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Slow burn

A/N: Hello loves ! Sorry for the delay, I believe I re-wrote this like 5 times because I had so many different scenarios in mind. I was so overwhelmed and finally settled on this. Nonetheless, I hope you babes enjoy. Requests are still open .xx

(Y/N/N) - Your Nickname

Nothing is harder than trying to hide your true feelings from your best friend. Well, theirs nothing to really hide considering how our relationship is, definitely not the same as my other guy friends. I’m fully convinced that everyone cracked that I have feelings for Lewis, except Lewis himself. Whoever said that guys and girls can be friends…they LIED.

Our friendship started about 2 years ago when Miles had introduced Lewis and I at Coachella. Miles and I go back a long way through our parents, we’ve been close ever since but just friends, nothing more. Miles knew about my love for F1 from early days and especially being a big fan of Lewis, he made sure that we’d meet some day since that’s his best friend after all.

I distinctly remember what felt like yesterday, we had the best weekend at Coachella and I was quite surprised how quickly Lewis and I grew on each other. Unfortunately, I rarely saw him since I had studying and work to do at the time, however that didn’t stop us from texting and video calling almost every day. That all changed earlier this year when I was done studying and I had a remote job so I had a lot more free time on my hands. I actually shared the news with Lewis first when I got my new job, he was so thrilled that he insisted that I now have no excuse not to attend more races.

What started off as friendly banter turned into flirting and teasing from time to time, if a total stranger saw us together they’d assume we’re a couple. Lol I wish. I have no clue what I’m doing wrong for him not to take a hint, unless he’s not interested in being in a relationship or worse case scenario… he has his eyes on someone else, but surely he’d tell me right ? I mean we’re best friends… or are we ?

That brings us to the present moment. It’s the Monaco GP weekend and you can imagine that almost every A list celebrity is here. Besides my love for F1, I’m a football fan as well - you can only imagine what would happen to my heart if I spot footballers in the paddock. Friday and Saturday are always quiet of course until Sunday strikes and the paddock is packed.

I was staying over at Lewis’ place for the weekend - no joke when I say we had a full on argument about me staying at a hotel when I can literally walk to the paddock since Monaco is so small. Of course he won the argument. Get my point when I say that people would think we’re a couple ?

It’s race morning, Lewis and I were getting ready not knowing what was going to occur the minute we’re about to leave. “(Y/N/N) are you ready ?” He called from the lounge. “Yep ! Just give me a sec” I yelled as I grabbed my phone and bag. I stopped in my track the second I saw that we were both wearing purple. “Are you kidding me ?” I said to myself. “You stole my look” he accused. “Excuse me ? I literally didn’t see what you’re wearing until now” I said defensively. “I’m just playing. You look beautiful and it’s cute that we besties are matching” he smiled. “Aww thanks Lew, but I have to change because everyone is going to think that we planned this” I said as I rushed back into the room to search for something else.

“Just forget about it, I’m changing as soon as I get to the garage in my team shirt and besides that we’re running late” he said as he grabbed me by my hand and pulled me along with him out the door to the elevator. “But Lew” I whined. He cupped my cheeks as he said, “Stop worrying about other people, focus on the positive..you got me and I’ll always have your back no matter what.” He gave me a quick wink and dropped his hands when we reached the ground floor. Not gonna lie that I had literal butterflies for those few seconds.

We drove to the paddock which didn’t take that long. I don’t know why I suddenly felt nervous, my hands started to feel clammy and I could already feel my body temperature rise. “Soo..you go ahead, I’ll meet you at the garage as per usual” I said as i stepped out of the car. “I was thinking we just go together” he smiled as he held his hand out for assistance out of the car. “Uhm are you sure ? People can be quick to assume things and start rumours..” Why can’t I shut up ?

“So what ? I don’t care, as long as you’re by my side” he shrugged. Aww. “Someone is being particularly nice today” I raised a brow at him as we walked towards the paddock entrance. “Pft..I’m always nice” he laughed. “On a normal day you test my patience to the limit with your banter, looks like someone is in a good mood. Don’t worry I won’t spoil it, I’ll make the most out of it” I smirked. As soon as we entered the paddock, we’re flocked by photographers and some fans taking pictures. In the moment I was so overwhelmed, luckily I had my sunglasses on the entire time so I actually ended up walking ahead of Lewis just to get to the garage faster.

I greeted a few mechanics, as well as Bono and Toto. We were lost in conversation that I actually forgot about Lewis coming back. Our conversation came to an end when all of our heads turned to Lewis greeting Neymar and Kylian. Oh my god. I was fangirling internally.

“No frikken way” I lowly said to myself. I started day dreaming and didn’t even realise that Lewis was next to me until he shut my mouth closed. “You’ll catch fly’s love” he half laughed. “Oh my god I can’t believe Neymar and Kylian are here !” I squealed. “You’re into football ?” He furrowed his brows. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know - you weren’t the only athlete I kept tabs on” I lightly hit his chest. “That hurt my heart” he pouted. “Mine too considering you didn’t introduce me” I scoffed.

“No biggie, we’re meeting them later tonight” he said casually. “Say what now ? You’re lying” I rolled my eyes. Ain’t no way. “I swear” he said in all seriousness as he held out his pinky. “I’ll take your word for it” I linked my pinky with his. “In that case, do you think you could be my wingman ? I wanna know what the hype is about being a football wag” I teasingly suggested. “Uhhh..no” he straightforwardly said. “And why not ?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Because then I’ll have no best friend” he lied as he walked ahead. “Don’t worry, if you be my wingman then I’ll be your wingwoman. I’ll find you a new best friend or better yet, a girlfriend !” I enthusiastically suggested.

“I don’t trust your taste” he said as he entered his drivers room. “Okay then let’s forget about me being your wingwoman. Put in a good word for me” I winked as I took a seat on the couch. “Yeah sure” he sarcastically said as he shook his head.

The day went by so quickly after that, before we knew it the anthem was over and Lewis was already heading out to line up on the grid. Just before he could leave he was talking to Toto for a while, then finally turned to me. “As per usual, I hope you have a safe race. Best of luck bestie” I said first. “And as always..thank you for your support. I really appreciate you coming to races (Y/N/N)” he smiled before pulling me in for a hug. “You could thank me by being my wingman” I played along. “Not this again” he said annoyed as he broke away from our hug. “Don’t let it distract you from racing” I joked. He rolled his eyes at me with a serious look before breaking into a smile, “Bye (Y/N/N) !” He trailed.

The race went by so quickly, pun intended. Lewis finished at P4, we’ll take it as a win considering the performance of the car this year.

Didn’t see much of Lewis after the race since he had media duties. Once he was done, we spoke about the race in general on our way back to his place. “Soo what are our plans for the evening ?” I asked as I laid on the couch. “Are you forgetting the part when I told you earlier that we’re meeting Kylian and Neymar ?” He raised a brow. Realisation hit me in the face. “Oh my god I need to find something good to wear” I squealed as I rushed over to my bag.

“It’s in a nightclub, they’re not going to see you” he laughed. “They will when you play wingman and I’m leaving with one of them. Mainly Kylian, Neymar is off limits because he has a girlfriend” I said as I continued searching through my bag. “How are you so sure about leaving with Kylian” he laughed. “Well obviously that will happen after you put in a good word for me about my love for football” I said in an obvious tone. “Hmm okay” he said with a smirk.

As Lewis got ready, I decided to do the same, I had a shower and sat in my robe as I did my makeup, and hair. Once I was done, I slipped into my dress and heels. “(Y/N/N) you ready ?” He called for me. “I’m just putting on my heels” I said whilst holding onto the bathroom counter top for support. “Wow” I heard him say from behind me. “You look- wow.. gorgeous” he said softly. “Aww really ? Thank you Lew” I pouted as I looked at him through the mirror. “Your rizz is literally showing through your outfit” I said as I turned around to face him. “I guess I should take that as a compliment ?” He asked with furrowed brows. “Of course it’s a compliment, I basically said you look so fine that you could pull anyone you wanted tonight” I admitted. I mentally slapped myself for telling him he looked fine out loud.

“If I heard correctly, almost sounded like you were hitting on me ?” He raised a brow. “In your dreams babe, let’s go” I said as I tapped his chest and walked past him.

When we arrived at the club, Lewis handed the keys over to the valet, that’s when we spotted Daniel or otherwise known as Spinz. We greeted each other as we all walked over to the doors of the club. “I won’t remind you again what the plans are for tonight” I mentioned to Lewis. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget” he said with a grin. He’s acting sus.

As soon as we entered the club, we were escorted to the VIP area and that’s when I spotted Neymar, and Kylian. Oh my word.. unreal. Both of them spotted Lewis and walked over to us to greet him. I stood behind Lewis with Daniel, eagerly waiting to hear what Lewis has to say.

Lewis shook their hands and made some small talk before moving aside to pull me forward by my waist. It’s hard to hear over the loud music, but i oddly enough heard clearly every word Lewis said. “Boys, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend” he smiled. Sir, I beg your pardon. Girlfriend ? I knew he was acting sus. “Hey ! So nice to meet you both, I’m a big fan” I yelled over the music as I hugged them both.

“Great to meet you too. Lewis is a lucky guy” Kylian smiled. “Aha well, I’m a lucky girl” I joked. All of the build up to annoy him just died down. I really pictured having a full on conversation with both Kylian and Neymar but that also went out the window when I started to get frustrated yelling over the music.. I was actually starting to lose my voice. Besides that, I was itching to leave this place so I can have a talk with Lewis. Quite a relief that Daniel was with us so i had someone else to talk to in the mean time.

After about a whole hour, I started to get a headache and just felt the need to leave. I was seated in the VIP area with Daniel whilst Lewis was catching up with Kylian and Neymar not so far away. I walked over to him and tapped his shoulder, “I wanna leave” I yelled. “What ?” He asked as he leaned in closer. “Can we please go ?” I yelled once again. He nodded his head in reply. He briefly greeted them goodbye as I I did the same.

We walked in silence to the car until the car doors slammed. “Uhm care to enlighten me on what happened back there, boyfriend ?” I emphasised his new title as he then sped off. He stifled a laugh, “Well I got a bit- cough”. “What was that ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Can we just talk about this when we get back home ?” He asked as he looked over to me for a second. I didn’t answer back, just looked out the window. When we got back to his place, I jumped out the car and walked ahead of him to the elevator. “Can you stop giving me the silent treatment ?” He said as he stood across me.

I remained silent until we were in his apartment. I sat on the couch and crossed my legs over, “Was that really necessary ?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well I thought it would be funny” he smiled. I took a deep breath, “I- do you want me to be single and lonely for the rest of my life ?” I faked a smile. “Oh my days (Y/N)…can you not take a hint ?” He said annoyed. I stood up from where I was seated, “I assumed you were just trying to annoy me like you always do and tonight you did exactly that, but worse.” I walked past him as he then caught a hold of my wrist. He pulled me back and twirled me to face him.

“(Y/N), if it isn’t obvious enough..I love you.” I was left speechless. “I’ve fallen for you since we first met at Coachella. You caught my eye and I knew then that I always wanted you by my side. You made my day when you shared the news with me that you were finally able to come to more races, I thought it’s now or never. I thought I was pretty obvious about how I felt about you, even Miles knows this” he softly smiled. “That idiot knew all this time and didn’t tell me even after I told him how I felt about you. Anyway, never mind him. Why didn’t you say anything earlier after I told you to be my wingman for tonight ?” I furrowed my brows.

“Because I wanted to wipe that smirk off your face” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer against his chest. “To me it just sounds like you were jealous” I pursed my lips as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I wasn’t jealous” he scoffed. “So then why did you call me your girlfriend ?” I raised a brow. “Okay fine, you win that, but… will you be mine ?” He asked nervously. “I thought you’d never ask” I said as I closed the gap between us, placing my lips on his.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton oneshot #f1 fluff #lh #lh44 #ricciardoaf oneshots

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alwaysonf1 · 6 months

Text

are they flirting?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: And this my loves, is the end of 'A Week.' Forever is within reach.

Charles’ every thought is filled with things regarding the way Iman dances. The schedule meant that there were two games that would happen while they were filming. Everyone was given the choice to go or not to go, but all of them jumped at the chance to experience the energy of the first night.

And despite how even now Charles wants to deny it, he’s more than just fascinated by this part of college life that he never would have gotten to experience. No, most of his interest lies with the girl with the bright smile dancing along to the band’s rendition of New Edition’s “Can You Stand the Rain.” Every move is made with a fluidness and grace that most only attribute to ballet.

As it winds down, and the girls take their seats he finds himself wishing for a repeat of the same performance. Maybe then he could look at all of them and not just stare at Iman the entire time.

Movement to his left draws his attention and breaks him out of embarrassing himself if Iman caught him looking at her for so long. He sees Lewis embracing someone and he assumes it’s a friend of Iman’s mom, but when they pull away, he’s met with the smiley face of Logan Sargeant.

The young Williams’ driver is chatting it up with Lewis as if they’re best friends. All while Charles can’t remember a time, he’s ever seen them interact. He’s not even sure he’s ever seen them look at each other.

It’s confusing and as if sensing his gaze, they both turn to look at him. Lewis wears a smirk and Logan’s smile is just as bright as when Charles first looked their way.

“Hey, Charles.”

“Hello.”

The silence following that greeting is loud, even in a loud stadium. As seconds tick by Logan’s expression morphs into confusion and then Charles watches as he looks to Lewis and the lightbulb clicks on.

“Oh! Sorry for crashing. I had some time to fly out here and I like to visit Iman when I can. Lewis said it would be fine for me to come since this is the last day of filming.”

That answers so little, but it does give Charles an opening.

“You know her?” he asks.

The smile returns. “Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Met at some of the competitions here.”

His explanation makes sense. Iman seems to have been somewhat involved with her brother and mother’s line of work all her life, even if it was in a more covert way. That meant she probably crossed paths with many drivers, even him, without any of them knowing who she was or her relation to Lewis. But Logan seems to know.

“Hold on. Have you always known about her? Them?”

Lewis laughs and Logan joins in. The other drivers walk over, their attention drawn away from the game that restarted. Most seem as confused as Charles was, but they greet the American driver warmly, nonetheless.

“He didn’t know until they were like eleven or twelve. They were already friends and she wanted me to meet him. We trusted him to keep the secret and he hasn’t let it slip even a little bit. In fact, he was on my side about not doing this at first, but hey, you know how siblings are, they get their way.”

“Really? You both lost against her?” Alex asks, amused.

“I rarely win against her. She knows how to divide and conquer, so she made some good points and so I helped her convince Lewis.”

“Giving yourself a lot of credit there with that help, huh Sargeant?” Lewis jokes.

Logan nudges him and laughs. “She’s the one who tells it like that. We both know I was there to just nod.”

This comradery is shocking. Charles feels like he’s in an alternate universe as he sees them talk and laugh together. He turns to look at his teammate and sees the confusion he knows is on his face too. Somehow, he’d managed to just accept that Logan of all people has known, but this dynamic change between the drivers is the real stunner.

It takes a bit, but he zones back into the conversation between the two.

“Like that time, she called my dad an ass and some things I’m just not comfortable repeating,” Logan says.

“Is he still scared of her?”

“Yup. He said something dumb, that’s on him.”

That subject is one Charles is interested in, but a throat clear draws his attention to Daniel.

“Any particular reason you didn’t want to?” Daniel asks.

“She’s my baby sister, I always want to protect her from how things can get. Ya know?”

A chorus of agreement sounds because everyone gets it.

Charles definitely knows. What he often deals with in the industry and with the media was the same, but also different from what Lewis got hit with. Sometimes he wanted to keep his family far away from the spotlight, but he left the choices in their hands and did what he could to limit some of the stuff that people would write and say about them for clicks.

The arena erupts in cheers, forcing the groups’ attention on the field. Southern’s team is leading by far and they’ve made another touchdown. The joy of the players can be seen by the way they celebrate in the end zone and Charles is reminded of how much he likes the camaraderie in sports. It’s there, but not as strong in motorsport. An expected outcome when even your teammate is a rival for a win.

For the rest of the game, they’re focused on the football part of it. It’s a good game and though the team is running away with the win it has its tense and exciting moments. When it ends, they allow everyone else to make their way out, post celebration, and then head to the tunnel that Iman told them to meet her. She’s already there near the exit with her bag and changed into her outfit for dinner. The green dress she’s wearing compliments her brown skin and fits her perfectly.

As they reach the last few feet Logan moves to take the lead. He jogs to her, and Iman drops her bag to hug him tight. There’s an uncomfortable churn in Charles’ stomach.

“Hey, Lo. Didn’t know you were coming,” Iman says.

“I had time and Lewis said it would be fine. Plus, it’s your last season. Have to see my big sister perform as much as I can.”

Logan removes himself from the hug and puts some distance between them as he says it. From the way Iman’s eyes narrow Charles can tell it’s a wise decision.

“It’s less than a year difference, you dork.”

“Still a difference.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Lance asks.

“Uh…”

“She’s twenty-three,” Lewis says.

Daniel coughs. “Twenty-three?”

“You don’t remember your age?” Charles asks.

Iman gasps and lightly slaps his arm, which makes him laugh. “It’s a fresh twenty-three. And there are too many numbers in my head to keep track. And to answer the question I know is there, I took a little over a year for a gap. It involved working as a mechanic and traveling. If I wasn’t in GA or deep within the Mercedes or Williams areas, you would have run into me at almost every grand prix.”

A weird feeling fills Charles. He doesn’t like that they could have met sooner and didn’t. He gets why, but for some reason he wishes he’d gotten the chance. Though if he's honest the reason isn’t that mysterious to him, he’s just pushing it out of his head. He can’t linger on it for too long or he’ll do something stupid.

“But enough about that. We need to leave now to get to the restaurant on time. All questions can be asked there.”

And with that she picks up the bag - which is then taken by Logan - and they all follow her out to the cars. She gets into the one Logan is driving. Lewis does as well and without question Charles follows them. He’s been attached at the hip to the Hamilton siblings all week, so he finds no reason not to be now.

And he ignores the smirk on Carlos and Daniel’s faces as they watch him go.

Once inside Logan pulls off while Iman puts the address into the GPS. Then she turns up the volume to a song and both of them basically scream the lyrics as if they’re the only two there. Charles looks to Lewis who is amused and looks at them in adoration. He finds himself smiling and humming along to the song, but let’s them have their moment.

Minutes into the drive, and a few songs later, Charles’ eyes shift to the rear view mirror just as Iman looks into it. She sees him and winks, all while continuing what has turned into screeching.

The dumb smile on his face can’t be helped.

###

Laughter fills the restaurant, the three tables they’re using all having various different conversations but all in a happy, upbeat mood. Things were a little awkward when everyone arrived, no one knew where to sit and were clearly uncertain with how the tables should mix. Iman had to take control and get them to sit anywhere, even if that meant it was between two drivers.

Iman found herself in between Logan and Charles, with Lewis right across from her. All three were carrying the conversation while she ate off her and Logan’s plates, her mind mostly consumed with eating as much as the oddly delicious asparagus while refusing to order more.

Before she knew it both of theirs was gone and a pout formed on her lips. One that she’s hyper aware of to the point that she shakes her head a little and pulls it together. Reminding herself that she’s being silly.

Her stomach doesn’t get the memo though. It does a weird swirl, and it makes her wonder if she should order more of it. She shakes her head and tunes back into the conversation, focusing on the way Logan wheezes as he laughs at something that Lewis said. Something that Iman knows wasn’t that funny, but that the two of them clearly think lists her brother as king of comedy.

It's almost a reflex as she turns to meet Charles' gaze and give him an eye roll about their theatrics. He’s wearing a bright smile and laughing softly, but with the way he looks at her Iman knows that laughter is largely because the two men are ridiculous.

Having that sort of connection makes her feel sane and pushes a laugh of her own out. But it causes an itch in her throat and before it can get any further, she reaches for her drink. Just as it reaches her lips her eyes notice her plate is no longer in front of her and instead it’s one that looks like it once held what Charles ordered.

Iman’s eyes move back to the man, and he’s immersed in the conversation with a producer and Lance. She stares at him for a while, lips parting to speak and then his head turns toward her. Charles winks at her, motions toward the plate, and then rejoins his conversation.

A soft grin forms on her lips and she grabs her fork, digging into what she promises herself will be the last of her new found addiction for the night. Mid chew she looks up and meets Logan’s gaze and he has a smirk on his face. His eyes twinkle with amusement and a knowing look that she hates to see on him. It’s the signal that he’s either going to say something she won’t like that he knows something that she doesn’t or something she doesn’t want to address.

Quickly she swallows the vegetable and glares at him.

“Shut it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar.”

His hand moves to his chest, and he fails an expression of faux hurt. “I would never.”

Yet again Iman finds herself rolling her eyes, but when she stops her attention is on her brother who wears a similar expression to Logan’s from moments ago.

“I’m sick of your shit.”

Lewis gapes. “Mine?”

“Both of yours.”

“Hey. I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s mean!”

Exasperated is not a fitting enough word for how she feels in the moment about their antics. Despite her ignoring certain signs and feelings herself she’s smart enough to not ignore them noticing all of that. And the fact that they want to comment and encourage it. No one ever tells the cons to having the world’s biggest cheerleaders by your side.

“Either of you open your mouths to say anything that’s running through those brains of yours when you speak again, and I’ll pop you.”

Both lean a bit away from her at that and a smile forms because she knows they won’t push it. At least not for the night. There’s no universe where she’s delusional enough to think that the subject is dropped forever.

Lewis breaks the ice first, asking her questions about the rest of her season and making a joke that he’s going to be spend more time on the plane this season than he has all the others. From there it’s jokes and catching up with each other. Those close to them join in here and there, some even bring their chair to their part of the table to talk. At some point Charles joins back into the mix and he speaks like he’s been in on all the jokes as long as they have. And he ensures that her water is always topped off and slips her a piece of the cake she swore she wants none of.

By the time the night is over it’s like a peaceful high. They all head back to the hotel, Lewis got her a room for the night, and it’s both hard and easy for her to drift off at ease. In the morning they met for breakfast as their last meeting before everyone, except Logan, were headed to the airport. There were hugs all around and Charles is the last to embrace her, both of them lingering longer than the norm.

She and Logan wave to them until the vans are out of sight. With them officially gone Iman sighs and turns to head back into the hotel. Logan is giving her a look, his brow raised a little as he grins like the cheshire cat.

“Shut up.”

“Nope.”

She walks away and he keeps up with her quick pace and as the elevator doors close, he has a million and one questions and opinions on a situation he got to experience for less than twenty-four hours.

#charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 2 months

Text

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, allusions to and depictions of mental/emotional/financial abuse, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 3.3k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: When your friend shares some exciting news, you fear this is yet again someone in your life who will move on and leave you behind. Joel reflects on how far he's come in life after running into an old family friend.

“Here’s a nice tip for you, sweetie,” Mrs. Baker chirped with a bright smile. You watched her wrinkly, dry finger scoot a shiny half dollar across the counter towards you. You fixed your expression into a million kilowatt smile of gratitude. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, Mrs. Baker, but we can’t accept tips.” You’d told her this every week for the past several months – every time she came into the grocery store where you worked.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she giggled with a conspiratorial wink. You felt rather certain of that, if your growing suspicions about the state of her memory and mental clarity was anything to go off of. The fact that she was still making these weekly trips by herself was enough to make you uneasy, and the fact that she was the one driving herself here presented an entirely new level of concern.

It was one of the few reasons you’d managed to compile when you were looking for ways to cheer yourself up over having nothing but your old cruiser bike for transportation. You were nowhere near what you needed in savings to even begin thinking about affording a car and all the expenses that came with it. All the progress you’d made previously had been wrenched from you when your dad had found the jar hidden in your closet. It had made him feel vindicated in his “random searches” he liked to conduct on everyone’s rooms. It gave him some sense of justification whenever something cropped up, no matter how rare it was.

But, hey, at least your door hadn’t been beat off its hinges like Calum’s had. And, hey, maybe by the time you can finally afford a car, insurance, gas money, license and registration fees ….. well, maybe you won’t have to worry about encountering Mrs. Baker on the road. You feel a little guilty the moment you think it and feel even more guilty as you shrug and take the half dollar from her. “Thanks, Mrs. Baker,” you say quietly.

You tuck the coin into your jean pocket that doesn’t have the hole at the bottom and finish loading her groceries into her cart. You laugh to yourself when she just starts walking off - you assume the direction of her car. You hope she can remember where she parked it. Your coworkers and boss Jeremy were never as patient with old, confused ladies offering you insulting bits of change in exchange for bagging up all their groceries just the way they like, loading them up into the cart, following them to their car, and offloading everything into their trunk. You always pointed out that it didn’t really take that much time away from your duties and probably made a big difference for someone like Mrs. Baker to have that sort of help. Jeremy would always roll his eyes and mutter something about “not my circus, not my monkeys.” You were just glad Mrs. Baker always came when it wasn’t very busy.

The 17 minute bike ride to and from work was shaved down to a clean 14 with a bit of encouragement from the gloomy clouds rolling in behind you. It’d been a wetter than usual summer according to the weatherman, and it was expected to continue into the fall and maybe even winter. Combined with the fast approaching daylight savings, you’d be in for a wetter, darker commute. Bad news for someone who relied on a bike for transport, but you tried not to dwell on it. You’d just have to divert some of your secret savings and buy a heavier coat, one close to the color of the lightweight one you already had so hopefully your dad wouldn’t notice a new purchase and demand an explanation.

“Dad, I’m home!” you call out. No answer, but that was typical. After all, it wasn’t him who was required to announce every movement in the house. You walked into the kitchen to find him hunched over the table with the paper. You carefully place the six pack on the middle of the counter, casual and unassuming as though it hadn’t become a learned habit after too many times of you having to deal with him running out. His eyes drift up from his work and land on the offering.

“What’s that?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know. You aren’t sure what the trap is or what you’ve done wrong, but you also know there’s no other option than to find out what grievance you’ve committed.

“Just saw it on my way after clocking out,” you lie. You had to double back across the store to pick it out. “Couldn’t remember if there was still some in the garage or not,” you lie again. There was plenty in the garage, but “plenty” in your terms and “plenty” in your father’s terms didn’t always align. Better to play it safe than have to bike in the rain to replenish his stock.

He leans back in his chair now, having decided what exactly he’s going to take issue with. Because it’s always something. “You got a real talent for just throwin’ money away,” he sneers.

You steady yourself as you wash your hands at the sink. Slow movements. Nothing challenging in your response. He loved to lob these decentering comments at you, a sort of puzzle you weren’t really intended to be able to solve. The takeaway was always meant to be that “the obvious” was right there and shouldn’t have to be spelled out for you, but you were just too dense to figure it out. His statement was vague enough that it could be taken multiple ways, all of which inevitably pointed to some failure on your part. At least you always knew that was going to be factored into the answer somewhere.

Was he saying you weren’t good with money because you’d bought more beer when there was already some in the garage? Was he saying that spending money on full priced beer was like throwing your money away? Was he saying that spending money on something frivolous like alcohol was a waste in and of itself in the grand scheme of things? You decide to go with your first interpretation. It felt safest.

“I guess there’s some out there then? I couldn’t remember, sorry.” Accepting some of the imminent blame was sometimes enough to soften the edges of whatever was going to be launched at you. Sometimes it backfired and just added to the fire: you can already see how you deserve this censure, so at least you understand your shortcomings are why this conversation is having to happen in the first place.

“Ever heard of buying in bulk?” he huffs. As if he didn’t stock up every other week at the wholesale store regardless of if it was on sale or not. “Price per unit?”

“Oh, yeah,” you respond in feigned recognition of your so-called error. “Sorry, dad. I guess the 24 pack is just sort of hard to balance on the bike. I’m always nervous it’s going to fall off the handlebars when I get the bigger sizes.”

As if your difficulties getting to and from work were of any concern to him.

“So you acknowledge that you were paying the unspoken price of convenience,” he drawls. Ah, of course. The two birds one stone approach of insulting your efforts and inflating his authority as economic manager. The idea that you would pay a few more cents per unit to make things easier on yourself, to not have to worry about dropping and busting all the cans of beer because you couldn’t balance them. “At least you can admit it.”

He drifts forward again to his work, numbers and charts and graphs that you don’t understand and wouldn’t be explained to you even if you asked. The reprimand had been the short, simple kind. You quietly walk from the kitchen, place the beers in the garage fridge, and head down the hallway to your room. You lighten the load of your backpack and work shoes. The rain pelts gently against the window and is a full on staccato against the pane by the time you get out of your uniform and into your sweats. Getting ahead of the situation – making the call to get more beer without being asked or ordered to do so – had been worth it. You sigh and stare out the window. Thank goodness it was going to be a day where you’d played your cards well enough to come out mostly unscathed. Thank goodness today had been worth it.

The only upside to sweltering August days in the middle of Texas was that contracting jobs slowed a little bit. Sure, interior renovations were still in full swing, but it gave that tiniest bit of reprieve for all the decking, roofing, and sweat-dripping-off-your-balls-it-was-so-hot sort of work that he only ever scheduled for in the “cooler months.” It was the closest thing to downtime he had all year round, even though it was mostly spent on office housekeeping. Catching up on clients and completed jobs. Fostering those relationships so they’d sign Miller Contracting on for another project. Building enough good will and enough happy clients that word of mouth could not only sustain business but had helped it grow steadily over the past decade.

Joel hadn’t ever been much into religion except for Easter Sunday growing up when his mom would give him and Tommy so much chocolate they had barfed it all over the backyard more than once. Yet, he couldn’t help but think about how blessed he felt. He and his kid brother were doing well for themselves. He just wished his parents were around to see it. It would make him happy to show them all their love and hard work had eventually paid off. All those tumultuous teenage years of Tommy getting into all sorts of trouble and Joel winding up a young father without much of a plan on how to support his sudden family. They’d only been witness to the very beginning of their comeback kid storylines, and he’d kill for 5 minutes to show them he’d managed to make something of himself and made sure Tommy was okay, too.

The icy wall of air conditioning smacked Joel right in the face the moment the grocery store doors opened. As nice as it felt to be out of the heat, the jarring change of temperature was something he’d never gotten used to in all his years in the South. He made his way to the convenience section and nabbed a lemonade. He plucked another from the spring-loaded tray just before heading towards the checkout. He wasn’t sure what Jordan liked to drink since he never seemed to have anything except water to offer anybody. At least this way it wouldn’t be so obvious if Joel showed up with a lemonade for both of them.

The wall of heat smacks him in the face this time, along with the blaring sun. He squints and holds a hand to the sky to block some of the blinding rays. He hears the rattle of a cart coming his way and glances over. There’s that cute neighborhood girl he’d see every now and again if he was lucky. He doesn’t remember much about you from when he first moved in – other than that whole strange thing with your mom. He tries to remember your dad’s face in his mind’s eye. Something sort of stony and serious conjures into view. He wonders if he’s just imagining it wrong because your face is never like that. He must be thinking of someone else.

Regardless, he couldn’t remember any of your names. He used to be better at stuff like that. When you smiled at him, he returned it with one of his own and headed towards his car. Yeah, definitely couldn’t have been imagining your dad’s face correctly. No way the snobby frown of a man that came into his head was possibly related to you with your shy but deliberate smile. How on earth someone so insanely gorgeous could only find work at a grocery store was beyond Joel. He wonders if you were even aware of how much money you could probably rake in as a bartender around these parts.

“Is that Joel Miller?” a frail voice calls out.

Joel looks over to see none other than Mrs. Baker. “Well howdy there, Mrs. Baker,” he calls back. He walks over to her four door and wonders how on earth she’s still a licensed driver. She’d been friendly in the church with his mom especially, and even as a kid he was never too impressed with her driving skills. He dreads to think what they are now, multiple decades later.

“How are you, sweet boy?” she asks, all warm and bubbly. He grins back and shrugs.

“Just keepin’ busy. You know how it goes, Mrs. Baker.”

“Well that’s better than the alternative, I guess. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckles. He glances over to your retreating back as you push the noisy cart back into the store. “You got these folks so wrapped around your finger they deliver your groceries straight to your car, huh? You always were a charmer.”

Mrs. Baker joins him in a light giggle and taps his forearm. “Now now, Joel, I think we both know who the real charmer is between the two of us.”

“Hey, gotta pay the bills somehow,” he laughs in an echo of her words. Her smile widens at his teasing banter. “And, uh, your kitchen still workin’ good for ya?”

She nods and squeezes his hand. “Oh yes, it’s just as lovely as the day you finished it. You boys always do such good work.”

“Thank you, ma’am. M’glad to hear it.”

He edges around to open the door for her, partly to play his role as Southern Gentleman but mostly to get out of this conversation quicker so he wouldn’t be late for his next appointment with Jordan. She thanks him for his gesture and gives a little wave and brief goodbye as he heads to his work truck. If he made all the lights, he wouldn’t be late.

“But there’s something else, and, I’ll be honest, it’s sort of a big deal.” Kenzie was practically vibrating in place. Her high energy was the fun, infectious kind more often than the grating, off-putting kind. You weren’t sure how she maintained such enthusiasm when all she ever seemed to have was good things to share. Wouldn’t you get tired being so happy and excited constantly? It sounded exhausting in a different sort of way, but maybe it was a good thing.

She had a perpetually sunny outlook thanks to her perpetually privileged life, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade by saying things like that. After all, who were you to take away from someone else’s joy? Not to mention she was probably the only actual friend you had these days after all your high school friends had gone off to college or took up actual jobs and move out and got roommates or got married.

Kenzie was just busy and self-centered enough to not really pry too much into your life. It was a dynamic that worked for both of you: her with a constant audience for all her triumphs and growing life experiences, and you with the comfort of never having to say much about yourself or your home life.

“Well are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?” you tease.

“Uh, definitely not gonna make you guess because you seriously aren’t even gonna believe this,” she whisper squeals.

You have no doubt whatever wonderful thing she’s about to share is very much believable. Good things happened to people like Kenzie. It was never much of a shock when another ray of sunshine came bursting through the clouds of her life. You only wish that some of that “luck” could rub off on our own life. You raise an expectant eyebrow when she doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, so–” she peeks over her shoulders from where you’re both knelt on the ground stocking canned goods “–I’m applying for this paid internship thing my professor recommended me for.”

Your brow scrunches. You thought paid internships were something that existed in the old days when you could still smoke on airplanes and down a vodka martini 5 months pregnant without anyone batting an eye.

“I know, I know, internships are sometimes blegh, but it’s like a legit office and nice company and everything” she explains, wholly misunderstanding your expression. “It’s not like those old offices off the Milton exit.”

You don’t even know what she’s talking about, but you take her word for it. “Oh okay, cool.”

“Yeah, so I’m basically, like, a shoe in for the job since my professor wrote my recommendation. It’s not a full-time thing yet since I still have another two semesters, but over winter break I should have some opportunities to have something more like a real job.” She cringes at her choice of wording. “Sorry, not that the grocery store isn’t a real–”

“–I know what you meant,” you interrupt. “Keep going.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and launches back into her tittering announcement. “So anyway, yeah, if this all goes alright then I basically already have a full-time job set up once I graduate. Can you believe that?”

Yes, you can believe that. “That’s so crazy!” You shake your head and give her a big grin. “I’m sure that has to feel amazing, Kenzie. That’s so awesome, seriously.”

She was a few months out from graduating with her degree in marketing. Or was it communications? You can never seem to remember, and you’re too far into the friendship to keep asking clarifying questions like that. Anyway, it didn’t matter much which one it was since she had pretty much already landed herself a “big girl job” with matching “big girl pay.” The ever present and nagging voice in your head reminds you that she is younger than you and already so much more successful than you’ll probably ever be.

“Hey, y’all both don’t need to be in canned goods. One of you go see what Erin needs help with, huh?” Jeremy scolds from the end of the aisle.

Kenzie rolls her eyes at you with her back to Jeremy. “Alright. You got it, Jeremy,” she replies in a chipper voice. He stomps off as she promises to text you later with the rest of the details. You give her a quick side hug from the ground and tell her again how great the news is.

You stew in it for the rest of your shift. It turns and spoils in your mind no matter how much you tell yourself you should be happy for her and not so focused on yourself all the time. By the time you make it home, it was impossible to ignore the reminders that this was yet another person in your life that you were bound to grieve once they moved on from their station in life and did better for themselves than what they had here. First your mom. Then your brother. Now one of the few people who you’d managed to befriend since graduating high school.

You were left behind. Again.

You were never going to make anything of yourself like everyone else seemed to do.

You were going to be stuck in this place for the rest of your life.

You do your best to control the hectic breaths that start squeezing your chest, but you’re well into a full blown panic attack before you can even pinpoint when it started.

This was going to be the rest of your life, and there was nothing you could do about it.

#fic: Chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction

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wonderl3ss · 6 months

Text

pairing: adam stanheight x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! MINORS DNI. praise, pet names, unprotected, v sweet n vanilla tbh.

a/n: some smut as an apology for being ia for a year n a half lol. requests r open, pls read rules!! apologies if its short n a lil messy im new to writin this stuff. not proof-read

‘i miss you, can you come over?’

adams phone pinged, the message from you lighting up the screen and turning the phone on. it wasn’t unusual for you to message him at the most random times asking for him to come over, it had happened too many times to count.

being friends for so long, you knew each other inside out by this point. you claimed you were only best friends, but everyone could see that there were deeper feelings involved, yet neither of you acted on them. the fear of ruining your friendship was the only thing stopping you.

you had met him one night at a high school party after being introduced to him by a mutual friend. from that moment on there was rarely a day you two spent away from each other. you had truly just started out as good friends, it wasn’t until you both hit your 20s that you realised there was something more.

for the past year or so, you had found yourself thinking about him a lot more often, not just in a more romantic context, but sexually too.

countless nights you had stayed awake with adam being the only thing on your mind; imagining it was his fingers inside of you instead of your own. imagining his lips were travelling all over your body, leaving marks on your most sensitive spots. imagining he was yours, and you were his.

you needed him so bad, in more ways than one. you needed him to hold you, kiss you, touch you, talk to you. not as your friend, but as your lover.

adam didn’t even bother to text back, he instantly got into his car and started driving to yours. admittedly, he had been missing you too, and it wasn’t just you who held those feelings, he felt the exact same way.

he too had spent countless nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining it was your hand instead of his. wishing instead of his hand, he was inside you. filling you up so good, letting you know you’re only his.

neither did he knock on your door when he reached your place; he didn’t need to. you two we’re together so often that anyone would assume you already lived together.

you greeted him by pulling him into a tight hug the second he walked through the door. it startled him ever so slightly as he wasn’t expecting it, but he melted into the hug just as quick. he thought he could sense the faint smell of alcohol on you.

“have you been drinking?” he pulled away to look you in the eyes.

“only a little. i had like, one beer,” you looked back and gestured to the empty bottle on your kitchen counter behind you. “do you want one?”

adam stepped further in, closing the door behind him before answering, “sure, why not.”

you walked over to the refrigerator and took out two beers, one for adam, and another for yourself. turning back around, you handed the bottle to him and spoke, “there’s more in there if you want another after that.”

he only nodded in response before opening the bottle and instantly taking a swig.

staring at eachother for no longer than 3 seconds, the alcohol in your system gave you the courage to do something you had wanted for so long. something you had spent many nights dreaming of.

grabbing ahold of both his cheeks, you pulled him closer until both your lips smashed together. the sudden movement caused adam to not kiss back for just a split second, but once he realised what was happening, he wasted no time in returning the gesture.

the feeling in your stomach was a feeling you had been long earning for; those butterflies that seemed to flutter around in your stomach every time you were with him were going crazy in this moment. it’s as if they were also waiting for this.

adams hands now rested on your waist, his touch was warm — hot, even. it made your core feel hot too, as if the butterflies were now burning and being replaced by something else. what that was, you couldn’t focus on enough to figure out. all you could focus on was adams lips on yours.

you finally pulled apart, admittedly not wanting to. adam was the first one to open his eyes, with yours following shortly after. the small smile on your face widened when you began to laugh ever so slightly from the hot feeling on your cheeks and in your stomach.

“care to explain what that was for?” he spoke, his voice sounding angelic, like something you’d never heard before — yet you had, many times. maybe it was the adrenaline and alcohol, but his voice made the heat you felt all over just that little bit hotter.

you shook your head, digging deep in your brain to find the right words. “you just looked so.. i don’t know.. enticing, i couldn’t help myself… maybe the alcohol is partially to blame.” you were completely and utterly smitten with this man.

adam just smirked before pulling you back in for another kiss. this time, he grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you onto him so you were straddling his lap. feeling the slight tent in his jeans made your core tingle.

he obviously wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

feeling adams tongue enter your mouth, entwining with your own, you took this as a chance to grind down on his clothed cock. the small groan this elicited from him caused your core to heat up even more — if that was even possible. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

as adam broke the kiss, you pouted slightly, already missing his lips. this pout soon disappeared as adam spoke, “are you okay with this?” he wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to be something you’d regret in the morning.

you hummed and nodded in response, you wanted to waste no time in speaking, only wanting him to kiss you again.

“i want to hear you say it,” he looked you in the eyes, his fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

there was something about the way he said it that made a flip in you switch; wanting this more than ever now.

“yes, adam. please.” you didn’t mean for it to sound like you were begging, but deep down you really were. begging for him to just touch you already; begging to feel him inside you.

satisfied with your answer, he began to lift your t-shirt over your head. you lifted your arms to make it easier for him to pull it up and off. you did the same with his t-shirt too before throwing them both on the floor, not bothering to look where.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” adam breathed out, taking in every inch of your topless body. of course, he had seen you in bikinis and whatnot before, but this was different. this time it was intimate.

you subconsciously tried to wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to cover up, feeling embarrassed at the sudden compliment. adam didn’t let you though. he gently grabbed your wrists and placed your arms down by your sides.

attempting to take the attention off yourself, you kissed him again while reaching down to undo his belt, ushering him to take his jeans off.

you lifted yourself off his lap ever so slightly to allow him room to take them off, freeing his cock from the suffocating fabric, now only hiding behind one barrier — his underwear.

he then helped you in unbuttoning and pulling off your own jeans, leaving you both in your underwear. the thin fabric was doing nothing in hiding the obvious wetness he had caused to pool in your panties.

you sat back down on his lap, the head of his cock lightly rubbing against your clit, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the sensation that ran through you.

“adam… please, i need you,” you begged, afraid you would explode if you waited any longer. you had never needed someone as bad as you need adam right now, and honestly, it was painful.

“oh, really?” adam obliged, taking his middle finger and pressing it against your clit, teasing you just a little longer — he enjoyed hearing you beg, enjoyed knowing it was him, and only him, that was making you so so needy.

the slight, quiet moan that you let out at his touch only made him more eager. he began to make circular motions on your clit, adding a little more pressure. you let out another moan and rested your head in the space between his shoulder and neck; all the teasing and longing for this moment, had made you so incredibly sensitive.

you wanted him inside you, now. no, you needed him inside you.

you decided to take initiative by removing his finger and gesturing to his boxers, hoping he'd get the hint that you wanted him to remove them. thankfully, he understood. after he had removed his underwear, he helped you in removing your own, now leaving the both of you completely naked.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, and his on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance, your slick and his few drops of precum mixing together.

"fuck." he groaned out as he finally pushed into you, the words were spoken so lowly you could feel the vibrations from his throat travel toward where your hands rested on his shoulders.

his fingers pressed harder into your hips as he began to take control and slowly guide you further down his cock before lifting you up once again, allowing you to adjust to his size and find a pace you were comfortable with.

"you okay?" he asked, making eye contact with you. his eyes were glossed over, lids heavy and ever so slightly closed.

"yeah," you breathed out, biting your lip.

"you're doing so good." he felt you tighten around him as these words of praise fell from his lips. he smirked to himself before pulling you into another kiss.

the room was then filled with nothing but the vulgar sounds of quiet squelching and skin slapping against skin as you bounced on his cock, both of your juices mixing together. his hands moved to cup your ass, helping to take some strain off your thighs and make it easier for you.

his lips travelled to your neck, kissing and sucking on the spot right by your jugular, marking you as his, because after this there was no way he was going to let you get away.

it was as if he knew this was a sensitive spot of yours, because the feeling of his lips and the wetness of his tongue pressing against your neck caused you to let out a whine and tighten around him once more.

once he finally felt satisfied there was going to be a mark there, he pulled away, his mouth making a pop sound and leaving a string of saliva behind.

his middle finger then returned to your clit, rubbing circles on it to push you closer to your climax, because he knew there was no way he was going to last much longer, not with the way you feel around him. so warm, so wet, so tight, you fit around him so perfectly. it was as if you had both been crafted so precisely to fit together like two puzzle pieces. you were perfect.

"adam... fuck. im so close," you managed to speak out, feeling that familiar sensation building up in your core.

"cum for me, baby. you're doing so good, c'mon." the pet name was just the cherry on top of all the praise. you sloppily kissed him as you felt the high of your orgasm wash over you.

adam wasn't far behind you, pulling out just in time to let his cum spill out onto your stomach and around his own thighs as you rested your head on his shoulder to catch your breath.

he sat you next to him before standing up and walking into your bathroom to grab a towel, and run a bath for the both of you to relax and clean yourselves off.

he returned back into the living room and you noticed he had already wiped himself off in the bathroom. he walked over to you and cleaned you up with said towel. when he was satisfied he had wiped most of it up, he kissed your forehead and dragged you into the bathroom to pop you into the tub.

he sat you in between his legs, softly kissing your neck as you closed your eyes, revelling in the warmth of the water and fondness you held toward the man behind you. you let out a sigh of contentment before speaking up, "adam?"

"yes, baby?" he replied, the petname causing you to let out a little giggle, those nervous butterflies returning once again.

"what are... we now?" you asked, turning around to face him, hoping he'd reply with what you had been waiting years to hear.

"i think we both know what we are," one more kiss to your forehead, "i ain't lettin' you go anywhere after that,"

you let out another sigh, one of relief this time, "god, i love you," you returned the kiss, on his lips this time before turning back around and laying against adam, him sliding his hands around your waist.

"i know, baby. i love you, too."

"i like when you call me that."

#saw x reader #adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight smut #saw smut #saw 2004

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noxturnalpascal · 1 month

Text

Happy Ending [II]

Masterlist (with all warnings)

A/N: tía - aunt, tío - uncle, primo - cousin, dios mío - my god, chulo - pimp, bonito - pretty (masculine), mala - bad, cariño - darling, guapo - handsome, mi amor - my love

🩷 🌅 🌴

The next morning he lets himself sleep late - nearly 10am - but gives himself plenty of time to shower and wrangle his hair so he’s presentable for the 2pm beachfront service. He uses the outdoor rainfall shower, enjoying the sounds of the waves and the breeze blowing through the palm fronds. He heads into the closet, drops the towel on the bathroom floor and throws on a pair of boxer-briefs. He goes to grab the suit he hastily hung up while unpacking yesterday and a panic grips him when he realizes it’s not there.

He turns around three full times, checking and rechecking the empty closet, and begins to immediately sweat, wondering where the fuck it could have gone to when he hears a knock at the main door. He’s wondering what to do and who to call and when he pulls the door open he’s hit with a wave of relief as he sees Kiki standing there holding his suit out in front of her.

“Oh thank god, I was just looking for-,” he pauses and points at his suit. “Wait, how did you get my suit?”

“When I came to the room for turn-down service last night I noticed this suit hanging in your closet. It was covered in wrinkles and it smelled like…” she’s tactful enough not to finish her sentence. “So I just assumed you wanted it cleaned and pressed.”

Frankie suddenly realizes he’s standing there in only his underwear so he grabs the hanger from her hands and holds it against him, offering himself a small amount of modesty.

“Thank you, Kiki,” he mumbles, shutting the door quickly.

The service is beautiful but hot, sitting on the beach in the glaring afternoon sun. He didn’t think to bring any sunglasses, the hat that rarely leaves his head usually providing enough shade. It’s all he can do to focus on the bride and groom and shit, he thinks he’s gonna get a headache from squinting so much. He’s sitting next to his mother and notices she’s sniffling the whole time, getting misty-eyed at the sight of Elio marrying his love. She’s probably thinking about how she’ll never get to see her own son’s wedding since Frankie has spent the last decade finding new and exciting ways to blow up his whole life.

As the ceremony comes to a close he tells his mamá he’ll see her at dinner, and manages to duck away and get off the beach before the couple comes down the aisle and the crowd closes in. He feels a little bad sneaking away and being antisocial but he can’t handle the onslaught of well-wishers descending on the couple. He never does well in crowds like that anymore.

He takes a walk down the beach during cocktail hour, setting an alarm on his watch with plans to head back to the reception building just as dinner starts. He’s taken off his dress shoes and socks, letting his feet sink into the wet sand where the waves just lick at them, cooling him off. He’s also enjoying the warm, salty breeze as it soothes the beads of sweat collected on his forehead. He hears a melodic sound travel across the sand. Holy shit, that sounds like your laugh.

He looks around, seeing some couples obviously dressed up enough to be from a wedding, maybe the one he was at, maybe the one he saw set up further down the beach near his villa. He looks at their faces as they pass by him. None of them are you. He puts his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes to look behind him, towards the building where the reception will be.

There’s a large wooden patio off the back of the white stucco building, sliding glass doors separating the outside from the inside. Bistro lights zig back and forth above the crowd of people already gathered there, drinks and small plates in hands, and floral arrangements cover every square inch of the railing, spilling over the sides and draping themselves towards the sand. He scans the faces in the crowd but between the distance and the brightness, it’s hard to see.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t see you among the crowd. But he wouldn’t, would he… because this is just his mind fucking with him. You’re not here, why would you be here, on Paradise Cay?

But shit, did that sound like your laugh.

---

The fit of giggles you would become lost in when a movie night went too late. You called them your 2am crazies and you’d laugh yourself hoarse, then beg him to let you stay the night. Even though he barely got any sleep those nights, too warm with you cuddled up against him in his small bed, he never denied you.

The screaming laughter you’d let out when he would start to rock the car of the ferris wheel at the top of the rotation. You’d tell him you were going to be brave when you got on the ride, sitting a fair distance from him, yet still gripping the safety bar as tight as possible. A couple rocks was all it would take for you to give up the pretense of courage and throw your arms around his middle, just like he wanted.

Your nervous laughter as you told him about the job offer you got. You told him how some of the girls at the call center were leaving for new jobs and then, days later, you finally told him what the job was.

“They’re gonna be making movies,” you admit.

“What kind of movies?” he asks, innocently, until you pin him with a look like he should already know what kind of movies your sex phone-line coworkers would be doing. “Like porn?”

“Yeah, kinda,” you tell him.

You told him there was a new website that was paying girls $20 for pictures or $500 for videos, and for a cut there was a guy who would photograph or record you and then upload them to the site. Frankie wants to ask how you could even think about making porn. He wants to ask if you know what they do to the girls in porn videos. He’s seen enough of them to know that you deserve to be treated better than they get treated. He wants to give you all the money in his bank account so you don’t have to do this to yourself, subject your body to this.

You’re sitting across from him awaiting his response. You see the look he doesn’t even realize he’s wearing on his face and he watches your expression fall.

“You don't like it,” you mumble, looking absolutely dejected.

“No! I just-,” he’s fucking terrified for you. How are you not terrified? “I’m just… worried. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt, Pancho,” you grab his hand. Are you reassuring him right now?

You tell him that you don’t plan on making a video with another person just yet, that the $500 is for a solo video, just you and the cameraman, recording you touching yourself. You laugh again, nervous. It’s gonna be okay you keep telling him, maybe telling yourself too.

“A website?” he repeats.

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “The world wide web.”

“I thought the web was just for downloading music and getting research materials from the library,” he half-jokes.

“It’s still gonna be all that... there’s just also gonna be naked pictures of me on it,” you laugh. Nervously.

Two weeks later on a Friday afternoon he picks you up and drives you to a small building in a not-great neighborhood on the north side of the city for your filming time. Your nervous laughter is back. You’re unusually quiet, and keep joking that you should have smoked or something to calm your nerves. He wondered before how you weren’t terrified and now he sees that you are, you’re just trying your best to appear brave. You can’t come in, you'd already told him. The photographer had explicitly explained to you that you could bring girlfriends but absolutely no boyfriends.

“But, I’m not your boyfriend,” Frankie says as he holds your hand in the front seat, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The truck idles in the parking lot as rain drizzles down on the windshield.

“I’m not sure they’re gonna make the distinction when you roll up there with those big, broad shoulders and these angry brown eyes.”

“My eyes are not angry,” he says in defense.

“Then what is this?” you tease as you poke at the wrinkle set between his furrowed brow.

He waits in the parking lot for an agonizing fifty four minutes, watching the rain clouds clear and the sun come out, before you come out of the building, eyes a little glassy and trembling slightly. He jumps out of the car and helps you into the passenger seat, driving you both to a taco bell and buying you meximelts until the color returns to your face. How was it? How do you feel? Are you okay? You tell him it was awkward but everything was fine, and show him the $500 cash you made.

It takes you almost a week to admit that the cameraman gave you a pill he said would calm your nerves and it made you feel funny the rest of the day. He almost jumps out of his skin but you assure him that nothing happened and that you can take care of yourself. You also promise him you don’t plan on taking any more pills from strangers.

You get asked to do another video. You’d make $850 this time, recording a video with a guy named Rock Hardson. Frankie groans but tries not to let his jealousy come out. He’s not your boyfriend. You don’t belong to him. You weren’t a virgin when you met him and you have every right to use your body to make yourself some much-needed money.

It goes like that for a few more months, him driving you to the little building with the dirty parking lot every 3-4 weeks, waiting outside while you go in and make your money, then taking you to eat afterwards. Always asking if you’re okay, if you feel alright, if they treated you well.

Spring break comes around in early April and you have enough money to go on a trip with a couple of your high school girlfriends and their boyfriends to Miami. You shyly ask if Frankie will come with you even though he’s not your boyfriend so you don’t have to feel like a fifth wheel. He almost bites his tongue off with how quickly he says yes.

He holds your hand the whole flight, talking you out of a panic attack during takeoff, just now realizing how terrified you are of flying. He’s never seen you this scared of anything. He wants to tease you but instead he distracts you by handing you his discman and letting you listen to your Celine Dion album for the short flight, hearing you humming the ubiquitous Titanic theme song.

The week goes by too quickly, filled with salty, sunscreen-slathered afternoons on the beach and cigarette-infused, drunken nights in the club. Your last night there you finally convince him to dance with you, both of you too wasted to keep rhythm, clumsily bumping your bodies against each other for several songs. He feels your smooth skin under his hands, your fingers twisting in his hair. How badly he wanted to kiss you, his inebriated state almost granting him the courage.

You both fall into the bed you’d been sharing all week but tonight your friend in the bed next to you is drunk enough that she’s agreed to let her boyfriend have sex with her even with everyone else in the room. You and Frankie giggle to each other and you hear laughter coming from the fold-out couch on your other side, where your other friend lies with her boyfriend.

Then, you both hear those laughs turn to breathy moans as well. You lie face up next to each other in the bed, smack in the middle of the two fornicating couples, the tension and awkwardness growing. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been making his dick so hard it hurt. He was so scared you were going to see the tented sheets over his erection and be appalled by his behavior. He’s supposed to just be your friend. A friend doesn’t get a hard-on laying in bed next to his friend.

You grab his hand and he almost jumps out of the bed. His head is spinning, both because of the alcohol and the situation unfolding. He thinks you’re looking at him, he thinks he can see it out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t look at you. He’s afraid of what he might see on your face, just as afraid he might see your friend on the bed next to you getting railed by her boyfriend. The room is filled with the sounds of sex; low grunts and the slap of skin on skin.

“I bet you’re used to this,” he whispers, trying to ease the tension with a joke.

You let go of his hand.

His stomach sinks. Maybe he shouldn’t have-

“I’m too fucked up for this shit,” you mutter, rolling over and going to sleep.

When you get back from Miami you tell him that you’re going to quit, your school bill is paid off and you don’t want to make any more videos, and he won’t have to drive you anymore. For a few days he’s worried that he fucked up so badly on vacation that your friendship has changed, but when you call him for laundry day on Sunday everything seems fine, your friendship seems like how it used to be.

---

His watch beeps, letting him know he’s been reminiscing for over an hour and it’s time for him to get back for dinner. He puts his shoes back on and makes it to his table just as a glass is being clinked for the champagne toast. He looks at the table setting in front of him and sees a small bottle of sparkling water next to an empty champagne flute. His mother must have made sure that was done for him. She’s so thoughtful. He’s lucky to have her, even after all the ways he’s disappointed her, still by his side rooting for his sobriety.

Although if he’s being honest, he could really use some champagne right about now. All this sappy love bullshit is making it feel like a fist is clenching around his heart. He’s happy for Elio, of course, but goddamnit is he fuckin’ lonely. He’s not sure if the near-constant thoughts of you are a cause of or a product of his loneliness. It doesn’t really matter either way, the end result is the same. He’s here and you’re not.

After a delicious meal, he’d gotten the crab-stuffed-fish, his mother leaves the table to dance with two of his aunts, encouraging him to find someone to dance with as she goes, pointing around the room. He doesn't even look up as he says “I can’t dance, mamá .”

He’s immediately wrapped up in thoughts of you again.

---

You came to his graduation, standing next to him while his family snapped photos of the two of you, even stealing his mortarboard and putting it on your own head for a few pictures towards the end. He’d gotten his post-graduation assignment, he was going to a base in Germany, but first he’d be headed to Texas for six months of training. He was scheduled to leave in July, just after the holiday.

You spent the nine weeks of summer you had together alternating visiting the other. You’d borrow your mom’s minivan for the weekend and cross the state line to come to him. You’d spend your days together going to the mall, grabbing sbarro for lunch in the food court, and sneaking into the cine-plex. His friends from high school would let you in through a side door and you'd go between theaters, watching movies all afternoon, then help his mamá make dinner at night. He'd give you his bed and go sleep on the futon in his abuela’s room.

Alternately, he’d drive his worn-out Ranger to you, and you’d take him with you to watch your little brother’s baseball games, grabbing pretzels and a frozen yogurt at your mall afterwards. Your mother felt guilty making him sleep on the couch in her cramped apartment's small living room, so you easily convinced her to let him sleep on your bedroom floor.

You’d toss a pillow at him and he’d get comfortable under a blanket as your mom poked her head in to say goodnight. As soon as the lights were off and everyone was in bed you’d whisper for him to get up here, and he’d join you on your full-size mattress, holding you close. His mamá called you his girlfriend when she talked about you, but you’d still never even so much as kissed each other. You called him your best friend and that was enough for him. Getting to hold you and have you confide in him and be the person to make you smile was more than enough.

You spent your birthday in mid-June together, camping in the bed of his truck under the stars. You’d spent all day at the amusement park nearby, some of your friends joining you for the day. He’d held your hand on the roller coasters and let you feed him spoonfuls of dippin dots ice cream. He pressed his face against the top of your head as you both headed to the campsite in the evening, drained from a long day of walking, screaming, and being in the sun.

He lit a fire in the campsite’s ring and covered you in blankets where you perched on his tailgate, drinking cheap beer and ringing in your 20th year, roasting hot dogs and watching as the flames got lower and lower, until the fire was nothing more than glowing embers. You laid down under shared blankets to sleep, limbs tangled together for warmth, and scratched your fingers through his hair while you fell asleep. He knew then he was probably in love with you. But he wasn’t going to ruin your friendship by ever telling you that.

And then the day came that he was scheduled to get on a bus to leave for Texas. He kissed and hugged his mamá, shook hands with his pop, and then turned to you. You’d driven all night to be there for his 5am bus out of town, and your face was already streaked with tears. He pulled you close and you held him so tight, he doesn't know where he found the strength to let you go. Neither of you could bring yourselves to say the word goodbye and before his stinging eyes could spill tears over his waterline he pulled away. He felt you shove something in his pocket, sniffling as you wiped your face with your shirtsleeves.

He waited untill he got on the bus to slip what you’d snuck in there out of his pocket. He thought it was going to be a note but it was a CD. For my Pancho, you’d written on the disc in Sharpie. He knew he must look so dumb with the goofy grin he had plastered on his face. You’d made him a mix tape. He was so excited to listen to it that he fished his discman out of his bookbag and pressed the CD in. It spun up, read 00:00, and spun down. It wouldn’t play the music. He’d have to wait till he arrived on base and could put it into a better stereo.

Between the long drive, the haircuts, the room assignments, the introductions, one awkward phone call with you, and getting a ton of homework from his classes right away, he doesn’t get a chance to even think about the CD again until a week later. It doesn’t work again in his neighbor’s stereo, but he thinks maybe you put the music in a different format so you could fit more songs on the disc. He heads across the base to the technology lab on his next day off and his hunch is confirmed when the computer opens up the disc’s contents in a folder, revealing a video file. He double clicks the file and watches the monitor as it opens up in Windows Media Player.

A low resolution image comes across his screen and because he’s never seen it before, it takes him a moment to comprehend what he’s looking at. It’s you. You’re standing in front of the camera, a warm afternoon light spilling in from the window you must be facing, highlighting your face, shining on your dewy lips, your chin, your neck, your tits. Holy fuck you’re topless. He clicks pause and looks around, making sure no one else can see his screen, then presses play again. As the video continues the camera keeps panning out, and reveals you to be totally naked.

Holy shit this must be one of your videos. You’d talked about them before of course, the two of you talked about everything. You’d told him things you liked, things you didn’t, even awkward things that would happen during filming. You’d never tried to show him one of your videos and he would never be bold enough to ask. He knew you’d shown a couple friends, overhearing you discussing it one time, but he didn’t want you to feel objectified, so he said nothing.

A group comes into the computer lab and sits down nearby, checking their email. He can't keep watching this in here. There’s a crowd and he’s already half-hard in his pants. As an officer he’s lucky enough to have his own small apartment on base, and he waits three more weeks, the CD burning a proverbial hole in his desk drawer, until he finally saves up enough money to go get his own computer from Circuit City. It takes all goddamn afternoon to set up the computer and install Windows and finally, just after sunset, the computer boots up and is ready to use.

He slides the disc into his computer’s drive and watches for the first time, headphones on his ears to get the full experience. After the camera pans out to reveal your naked body you take a seat on the edge of the bed - he notices it’s your bed in your home bedroom - and the camera slowly pans back in as you lie down and slowly spread your legs. It remains a tight, but full-body still-shot for the rest of the video, recording you touching yourself to the tune of no less than three orgasms. Frankie can’t help himself and begins to touch himself too on your final peak.

Your breathy, panting moans, the way you pinch your nipples, the wet noises of your cunt, your fingers circling your clit, your cries as you fall over the crest each time; it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He wants to immediately call you and talk about it but with his training schedule keeping him busy and your junior year keeping you busy, you’ve barely talked in the month he’s been gone. How can he call you now and talk about how he’s seen you naked and watched you getting yourself off? What is he supposed to say? Thank you? You guys used to talk to each other about everything, but does he tell you that he jerked off to you? Is that why you gave him this video? He doesn’t know how to proceed. Why would you give him this as he was leaving?

The two of you write some letters back and forth and you eventually connect for a phone call at Christmas break, right before he heads to his post, but you miss his long-distance call from the base in Germany on New Year’s Eve. The calls get fewer and further between but his views on that CD never falter. It’s been so long since he’s spoken to you, almost two decades now, but he watches your video all the time, counting the CD among his prized possessions.

He’s not even ashamed to admit that he takes his cock in his hand nearly every time he watches and can time it so perfectly by now that he’s spilling his come over his hand just as you hit your third orgasm. Shit, he’s pretty sure the disc is in his laptop’s CD-drive right now. He brought his laptop, right? He feels himself start to harden in his pants. Maybe he can ditch out on this reception early and go back to his room to watch it. Even without any champagne, that would make it a good night.

He feels a gentle tap on his shoulder.

#francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #happy ending #noxturnalpascal #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #Frankie Friday #writing challenge 2.0 #iamasaddie prompt

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bloodynereid · 1 year

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a warren rojas x reader one shot where the reader is apart of the six (and Italian) and suggests a song for the album and Billy just disregards it. Warren is very angry and has to comfort her. But she ends up doing the song with another singer once the band breaks up and becomes very successful in her own country and warren is a proud husband

I love your writing, thanks 💕

Innervated Love

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x reader

a/n: hiii tysm for ur request. I kind of tried to do this request justice since I loved it sm so I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

tw: swearing, billy is his own warning, drinking mentions

description: being a songwriter was in your blood but billy just didn't want to see it, thankfully warren was around.

for @djatsappreciationweek day one: favorite character - warren rojas my unproblematic king <3

Y/N: I loved being in the band, I would never trade that experience for the world but Billy… fuck yeah he was a real fucking asshole.

You were sitting on the floral duvet that covered the bed you shared with Warren on his boat. Somehow he had convinced you to move out of the dingy old place that was the house in Laurel Canyon to his slightly cramped houseboat… it was an easy yes. You and Warren were always a will they won’t they kind of situation until after the first tour. That tour changed everything and left you with one of the best men in the world as your boyfriend.

Currently you were working on getting some finishing touches done to an array of lyrics that had evolved into a song over the course of the past couple of weeks. Ever since you picked up your first guitar the words that wove themselves into songs had quickly followed. Not that you ever showed anyone your little creations.

That was until Warren found a few of your songwriting journals when you were unpacking boxes. And let’s just say he was incredibly excited. He eagerly became the first person to hear every single one of your new creations.

So later that night as he finished listening to the most recent piece of your little side gig, Warren grants you a huge smile before carefully taking off your guitar strap and giving you a huge hug, followed by a rather passionate kiss.

“I’m assuming you liked it then.”

“Oh you have no idea, baby.”

“Well good cause that one was written about you.”

“I will gladly be your muse for the rest of my days.”

“Aww stop it you big sap.” You say as you lightly slap his shoulder before giving him a quick peck and taking another swing of your beer.

“I think I should be calling you the sap since you wrote a song about me.”

“Most of my songs are about you.”

“You are only further proving my point.” You snorted as you settled into his arms and felt him pull you tighter against his chest as a soft breeze blew over the boat.

Warren: Y/N is a genius. She’s one of those incredibly talented people that just has that spark, you know.

You took a deep calming breath as you nervously fiddled with one of the corners of the paper where your song was carefully printed out. It was a love ballad but with obvious rock and roll influences, you had even tried to sneak in a few things you had noticed from the array of punk records you had started to collect.

It felt as if you were back in school, about to give one of those presentations that you felt would end the world if you ended up messing up. Billy wasn’t known for being one who listens to anyone other than Daisy, which was also a rare occurrence. He was bullheaded and controlling about every little detail on the album. So this was like trying to talk to a brick wall, but you were still determined to at least try.

At the sound of Billy walking into the recording room you nervously stood up and eyed Warren who gave you a reassuring thumbs up.

“Hey Billy.”

“Oh hey Y/N.”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you…”

“If this is about your bass lines, I already told you that you can change them if you want for the riff.”

“Uh no this is about well this.” You kind of shoved the paper into Billy’s hands and his eyebrows raised as he quickly skimmed over the lyrics and notes.

“What the hell is this?”

“Well since I know you were looking for something extra for the album I thought I would suggest this.”

“Yeah well, uh it’s not what we need. And I finished up a song with Dai-”

“Yeah it’s fine Billy. Whatever, I’ll start setting up.” Billy just nodded at you before walking off to the side to talk to Graham. Warren just looked at you and titled his head, you just shrugged. That was when you realized you had never really seen Warren truly angry. It was as if a secret rage suddenly brimmed in his eyes. You quickly made your way over to your boyfriend and gave him a hug.

“Hey look it’s fucking whatever okay, don’t worry about it.”

“That song was amazing mi amor, it deserves to be on the album.”

“You don’t think, I think that too.”

“I am so sorry mi amor.”

“Thanks Warren.”

“Do you want me to punch him?”

“Nah, better not cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Okay fuck him then.”

“Yeah fuck him.”

Warren: Y/N deserved to have that song on the album. I’m not just saying that because she’s my wife, I’m saying that because that song was a chart topper. And that is what it became, even without the addition of Daisy and Billy singing it.

Y/N: So after the band broke up, Warren convinced me to send the song around to some of my producer friends I had made through Teddy. After that it kind of blew up.

Warren: Honestly I couldn’t be more proud of what Y/N has built. I mean to be part of 2 of the most popular bands in the world has got to be some kind of record.

You let out a laugh at Warren’s choice of words as you enveloped his hand with yours as the camera zoomed out to allow you into frame.

Y/N: It was kind of crazy that people actually wanted to listen to my music. So yeah I formed a little band with a few acquaintances and I worked out of London for a few months. Our first single, the song I wrote for Warren, was an instant hit. After a few weeks the album came out and well I was suddenly catapulted to fame once again.

Daisy: Y/N deserved everything she ended up doing. We’ve even done a few features on each other’s albums.

Y/N: So yeah I ended up with my own band, the best husband in the world and two bundles of absolute joy. And I owe it all to that song. Innervated Love will always be one of my favorite songs I’ve ever written.

Warren: You are still such a sap.

Y/N: Oh you love it.

Warren: Of course I do.

missed writing for my man warren <3

taglist: @pinkdaiisies @yesshewrites1

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yanderes-galore · 5 months

Note

Noticed there's one iconic Sangheili still missing on this blog, so: Rtas 'Vadum (Halo) Concept? Either or both Human and Sangheili darling, Romantic/Platonic intentions.

You are so right, we need more Rtas content. Here you go!

Yandere! Rtas 'Vadum Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Mentions of "mate", Human/Sangheili darling, Some violence, Threats of isolation/kidnapping, Dubious companionship.

Rtas, compared to a lot of other Sangheili, probably wouldn't mind a Sangheili or Human darling.

He is similar to Thel but even during the war he probably wouldn't mind too much.

Rtas is known to not follow the Sangheili way if it does not benefit him.

He'd be more likely to have a Sangheili Darling during the Human/Covenant war and The Great Schism.

Yet near the end of The Great Schism and the end of the war he'd be more likely to have a human Darling.

Rtas is similar to Thel as they both worked with one another for so long.

They've both seen how capable John was as a human which changed their view on humans.

I feel like Rtas is, surprisingly, not the most intense yandere.

I feel that for this concept I'd focus on an AU after the war.

He'd keep the one he's obsessive about on his ship as he continues his duties.

After the war Rtas is much more tame due to not being in battle as often anymore.

He'd probably be more intense during the end of the war but he certainly tones himself down later.

Instead of going everywhere with this concept to try and tackle every possible outcome… I'll try to stick with the base idea that came to mind when I think of Yandere Rtas.

Yandere Rtas with his obsession who is part of his ship crew/a crewmate.

This could work with both Sangheili and human darlings.

You were recruited on the Shadow of Intent due to your skills with technology.

You are either a Sangheili who worked with Covenant carrier ships often or a human that happens to be skilled in adapting to Covenant tech.

Either way you are placed on the ship due to your skill.

You'll fit in more as a Sangheili as most of the ship crew is Sangheili.

As a human you'll experience a bit more push back from your fellow crew, yet Rtas would call them off.

Rtas has been shown to care deeply for his crew.

Even when he worked for the Covenant he cared for even the Unggoy under his command.

That doesn't change now.

Rtas looks after you as part of his crew.

This care soon extends into his obsession towards you, romantic or platonic.

While you can guess a romantic obsession would happen more likely with a fellow Sangheili, a human isn't impossible after the war.

Rtas can get defensive of you on his ship.

He would see his obsession as a close member of his crew, even when they're new.

He listens to every report you give and has each repair you do monitored.

During meetings you are often called to listen in.

Rtas is one of the few Sangheili who doesn't have prejudice.

He doesn't care about your gender or species.

He just sees you for your skills and respects you for that.

Even if your combat isn't the best, you're still an important asset.

Due to the fact he cares about you, Rtas may give you a high ranking on the ship if he feels you've earned it.

Other Sangheili say this is unfair, only for Rtas to threaten them with kicking them out.

Rtas by this point in his life is a tame yandere.

His violent streak has settled down, although he is fully capable of fighting.

His primary goal has been to hunt down those who have wronged the Sangheili.

The ship docks at times but you're rarely let off of it.

Rtas claims he needs someone to make sure the ship isn't hijacked or damaged.

All of which are valid concerns yet the biggest concern he doesn't tell you.

He doesn't want you to become a casualty, especially if you're human.

Rtas’ obsession is subtle.

For the most part you just assume he does what he does due to him caring for his crew.

Yet as time goes on you'll notice that isn't entirely the case.

Rtas soon begins to call you in private to chat with you.

His obsession is still very slow and planned, very subtle.

When you first entered the Shadow of Intent you were already locked in.

Rtas does mean well when it comes to you yet he begins to show possessive tendencies.

He calls you in to sit beside him, he growls at other Sangheili around you.

It's clear to the rest of the crew he's taken claim to you.

If you try to leave his crew he threatens you under his breath.

He still has holding cells on this ship… don't comply and you may be sent there.

For the most part Rtas is subtle and protective of you.

Although like most Sangheili, Rtas has a possessive side.

He prefers to hide that side of himself.

Although he isn't above putting other Sangheili of his crew in their place when it comes to you.

He can either see you as a close comrade or, well… a mate.

He's more possessive if you're seen as a mate obviously.

The good news is he doesn't mean any harm to you.

You're a skilled crewmate that matters so much to him.

The others on the ship may think their Shipmaster is acting weird.

But he isn't acting weird…

Not as long as he has you.

While Rtas isn't a very intense yandere…

He'll do anything to keep you on his ship to himself… including locking you away until needed.

#yandere halo #yandere sangheili #yandere rtas 'vadum

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grizzersmamma · 9 months

Text

Son of Zmei | Fae AU | Nikto x F!Reader

A/N: Playing with @ghouljams ‘s Fae AU again, this time with my boy Nikto. This is just a bit of an intro to Nikto and his pet, our dear reader. We’ll get into what kind of creature Nikto is in the next part and how that plays into his personality. (I swear I’m working on the next BTL chapter, this fic is just on the side).

Warnings: Nikto being a bit of a creep. Reader gets knocked out lol. Nikto in this is similar to how he is in BtL, so kinda spoilers for that?

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Next Part

The little antiques and curiosities store you manage is quiet most days. The owner rarely visits, simply paying the bills from his comfortable home the next town over, leaving you to your own devices. So long as everything is kept clean and the newest items are properly displayed, the man doesn’t seem to care much for how you choose to keep yourself entertained throughout the day.

You sit behind the shop counter most days undisturbed, tapping away at your laptop that seems frightfully out of place in a room filled with such ancient items. You can’t complain, however, as the pay is reasonable and most of the work is simple admin duties. You’re more than content to spend your work hours browsing the internet for new and interesting supplies and chatting with the elderly ladies that visit you every Thursday.

Today is one such quiet day, with only the soft humming of the old lights hanging above you for company. Earlier, the nice lady who, for some reason, goes by the title “Witch”, had stopped by to talk to you about some sort of shop owner’s association being formed for the town. You thanked her for the consideration, informing her you didn’t actually own the store but would pass the word on to the owner. She had insisted that you drop by at some point, and you promised to consider it.

You were the one tasked with running the store, even if the building didn’t technically belong to you, so perhaps it would be nice to get to know some of the people working nearby. The Witch seemed nice enough anyway, and she was one of the few people who purchased things from the shop rather than simply browsing the items. It would only be polite to accept such a kind offer.

You’re drawn from your bored musing by the sound of the little bell above the door ringing, a figure moving into the entrance. As you push your laptop away from the main counter, you offer a bright greeting to the customer, straightening up to make it look as though you weren’t just leaning back in the chair, lazing about.

The customer, what you can only assume is a man given their massive stature, turns a pair of ice blue eyes on you. He doesn’t return the greeting, just staring at you for an uncomfortably long moment, before he approaches. He’s dressed head to toe in black fabrics, not even his face visible save for the small holes in a rather large mask where his intense gaze pins you in place.

Is this how you’re going to die? Murdered in broad daylight by a giant masked man? It seems likely given how the man is stomping toward you like a man on a mission, eyes not leaving your own.

“How can I help you?” It comes out a bit strained as you struggle to get your voice to crawl its way out of your throat, vocal cords frozen in fear. Even stopping a few feet from the desk you’re stood behind, the man towers over you, looking down on you like you’re a tiny gnat underfoot.

The man breathes out, the sound a strained rumbling noise like the growling of some sort of wild animal. You worry that he didn’t hear you, but a second later he finally speaks, “I have an order,” he growls. You weren’t expecting the deep, snarling voice and thick Russian accent that comes out of him, barely resisting the instinct to jump in surprise.

“Right,” you breathe, slightly relieved that this guy just appears to be here on business and not actually planning on stabbing you. “What name would the order be under?” you ask.

The man doesn’t appear to appreciate the question judging by the way the skin around his eyes crinkle slightly in distaste. He glares directly into your eyes as if your question is a riddle he needs to decipher. Eventually, he must find his answer because he finally answers you, “Nikto,” he grunts, “Son of Zmei.”

You battle to not furrow your brows at the rather odd name, knowing the people around this area are a little... quirky to say the least. To escape the awkward situation, you quickly dart into the storage room behind the counter where orders are stored for pick-up. There’s luckily only a single package, the name “Nikto” scribbled hastily across the top.

When you finally return, the man, Nikto, has begun browsing the items on display next to the counter. His head shoots up the moment he catches sight of you, observing you again in that strangely intense way of his, silently placing the object he had been inspecting back onto the shelf.

“Here you go,” you chirp, doing your best to plaster on a fake smile and not wilt under the man’s displeased look. He somehow manages to communicate a surprising amount of disgust with merely his eyes. You’re glad that the order was pre-paid, you’re not sure if you could handle trying to get money out of this man.

He picks up the box, tucking it under his arm with a firm nod. “Good,” his voice, dangerous and low, sends a shiver down your spine. You’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad shiver. You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the man turns around again. “You,” he snaps, “come with me.”

You blink slowly at him, not entirely sure how to respond to being given a command like that. You awkwardly shuffle toward him, keeping a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Did you need something else?” you ask, cautiously.

Before you can blink, a hand shoots out and grabs your face in a painful grip, yanking you closer. You gasp and try to pull the man’s hand off of you, but his grip is far too firm. “you will do,” he hums, looking you up and down. You want to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but he forces you to lift your head further, staring deep into your frightened eyes. “Sleep now,” he rumbles.

The room tilts dangerously, or maybe that’s just you, your vision spinning. You vaguely recognise that the floor is rushing toward you, but before you can think much of it, everything turns black.

When light floods back all you can focus on is the terrible stabbing pain behind your eyes. You huff slightly, nosing your face deeper into the pillow under your head, reluctant to get out of bed while feeling so sore. You open your eyes you’re met with an unfamiliar sight.

The bed you’re currently resting in is not in fact a bed and this is decidedly not your room.

You’re lying on an old couch, a soft pillow shoved under your head to keep your head from being too strained, even if the sofa is far from comfortable. A thick blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you warm. The house was old, a frosty draft blowing through the room and leaving you with goosebumps despite the comforter.

You want to try and get up and explore the area. You don’t know where you are or who could be nearby, but your head is still spinning and everything seems to be cloudy. You hear the sound of heavy footfalls on the wooden floor and the door to the lounge room swings open. You try to scramble away from the man when he strides into the room.

“Who the hell are you?!” You nearly screech, almost slipping over when you try to get out from under the blanket, disorientated. “Where am I?”

Nikto, or at least you think he called himself that, just stares at you as if you’re the one asking strange questions. He seems to decide that ignoring you Is the best course of action and continues where he was walking previously.

You can't help staring slack jawed at the man as he just wanders past you and into the kitchen. After a moment of sitting in stunned silence, you cautiously rise from where you’re sat. You can’t recall how you actually got there, just a vague recollection of the man coming to the store and then nothing. The blanket is still curled around you, providing an extra layer of safety.

When you finally muster the courage to poke your head through the doorway leading to the kitchen. Nikto doesn’t seem to be paying you much attention and, after taking a deep breath, you tentatively ask, “Why am I here?”

“You are payment,” comes the disinterested answer, the man still keeping his back to you as he digs through one of the cabinets, “you agreed to this, no?” His voice is still firm and aggressive in its tone, but for a moment your fear leaves you, replaced by anger.

“No? Why would I agree to this?!” You snap, before you can think any better of it, “who the hell said I did?”

Nikto grows deathly still and, for a moment, you think you’ve angered him and your life may be forfeit. However, he lets out a deep breath, grumbling “this is... unfortunate...” under his breath. “Petrov is more of a coward than I anticipated.” You feel that statement was not for your ears as it’s mumbled softly under the man’s breath, but his voice is still loud enough for it to carry to you clearly.

Petrov, your employer. The friendly old man who owned the store you worked at. He had told this stranger that you had agreed to be some form of payment? “So, uh, this seems to be just a big misunderstanding,” your words draw the man’s attention back to you again, his displeased, blue eyes narrowing at you, “can I leave now?” Your voice has started to weaken under the intense stare, sounding more like a strained squeak than a proper question.

To your surprise, Nikto simply waves you off, “do as you please. We will deal with Petrov.” You genuinely weren’t expecting to be let go so easily, but this isn’t a situation you want to stick around to resolve and you certainly don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Before you can move, however, he adds, “are you certain? The walk is long.”

“How far is it to town?” You slowly start moving away from the kitchen and toward what you assume is the front door.

The man thinks it over, growling out an eventual, “two hours, as the crow flies,” just as you reach the front door. “Take dog with you.” He says, opening the door for you, and before you can ask what he means you almost trip over a large, black canine sitting at the bottom of the front steps. It’s absolutely huge, looking more like a small bear than a dog and you would be intimidated if it weren’t for just how poofy the dog’s fluff is.

“Okay, uh, thanks?” You offer weakly, stepping around the dog. You’re not sure what else you can really say. ‘Thanks for not murdering me!’ ‘Please don’t go around kidnapping other people ‘cause that’s hella illegal!’ No, you don’t want to push your luck.

The man doesn’t bother replying, stepping back into his house and closing the door with a slam that makes you jump. You hope you don’t encounter that creep ever again, especially with the whole murderer-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods vibes he gives off in spades. You quickly start putting distance between yourself and the stranger, trying to ignore the massive dog padding after you.

Suffice to say, you’ll be handing in your letter of resignation first thing in the morning.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #nikto call of duty #nikto x reader #tf 1fae1 #fae au

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t-nd-rfoot · 1 year

Note

one more bc i’m actually having so much fun thinking of these lol!

🍾 with hangman

HUNG(OVER)MAN aka After New Year's with Jake Headcanons

Even when Jake isn’t so good…he’s good.

Pairing Jake Seresin x reader

Theme Fluff

Warnings One mention of actual hangovers, I also just couldn’t think of another title

Word Count 570

Note This was headed in a completely different direction but seeing as it’s just after New Year’s, I thought this direction seemed a bit fitting! This was supposed to go up earlier (like right after NYE) but I had a not so great start to the new year so this took awhile to write and edit. Also, may or may not be loosely based on how I spend NYD 😬 I hope you enjoy it, love!!!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

On the rare occasion that Jake didn’t have work the day after a big event, the two of you would spend the day as quiet as possible

Every morning, the two of you would wake up absolutely exhausted despite oversleeping

But the drilled-in discipline from his military training will nag at him until he gets up so he’ll at least get up to brush his teeth

Then it’s straight back to bed for morning snuggles

(He’s also barely awake while brushing his teeth so he also just wants to lay down)

The next time he gets out of bed is when his stomach starts grumbling

And he’s making sure you’re getting out of bed with him, whether that means throwing you over his shoulder or carrying you bridal style

Neither of you bother to change out of your pajamas, by the way

(And that’s assuming you guys even had the energy to change before getting into bed)

If you didn’t, this would be the time you guys exchange your wrinkled formalwear for comfy sweats and tees

For breakfast (or brunch, rather) Jake is always quick to stop you before you can reach for the sugary cereal atop the fridge

“If I’m ever too lazy to cook breakfast for you, then feel free to throw me out along with the garbage”

It’s a simple plate of eggs and bacon to share, exactly the way you like it, with a mug of hot coffee

Then it’s off to the living room couch for some more cuddling while sharing your meal

The TV volume is set to low as you idly flip through the channels or check out what’s streaming

But neither of you are listening to it

Instead, the two of you talk about your plans for the new year: things you want to do, places you want to see, etc.

You guys could literally spend hours on that couch just doing nothing

Also thanks to the many throw pillows you bought because Jake secretly loves them

At some point, he’ll starts to get antsy so the two of you drive around town

Driving through for coffee

Checking out the new restaurant you plan to eat at soon

Passing the scenic route on the way home

Picking up some pizza for dinner on the way

“Easiest dinner cleanup ever,” you said as you suggested it

“You read my mind”

And it’s back to the couch and TV for dinner, though this time the two of you actually pay attention to the screen

Even though you guys spent the whole day barely doing anything, Jake is alert the moment you yawn

He’s turning off the TV and putting away the leftover pizza while you get ready for bed

“Don’t worry about the mess here, babe, I got this. You go ahead so you can rest”

You stay up long enough to wait for him to get in bed with you

Once he kisses you good night, the two of you fall right asleep, recharged for life to go back to normal

In his dreams, he’s replaying the day he just had, doing everything and nothing with you

Because as much as he loves to celebrate big, it’s the small moments with you that mean everything to him

Disclaimer I do not own Top Gun: Maverick or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic

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harrypotterbrainworms · 2 years

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Best Not-A-Date Date

Summary: Arataki “Ever Oblivious to His Surroundings” Itto doesn’t realise you’re taking him on a date.

Pairing: Arataki Itto x Male Reader (No gendered terms used or described so take what you will)

Word Count: 2618

A/N: Dedicated to all my Itto mains out there, I have slowly gained in the confidence to start writing again. I hope you enjoy it!! Also how many Arataki “____” Itto can I fit into one fic.

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“One more time.” He held his hands out towards you, a determined fire in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, you glanced over as a few restaurants started turning on the lanterns outside.

“Fine.” You mused, holding your hands out as well. A few people stared at you as you entered the tenth round of rock, paper, scissors. He’s lost every round so far, you found it cute the first few times, thinking he was losing on purpose so you could choose where you were going. Though by the sixth round you quickly realised that he was pulling the same thing whenever you won in cards. “One more round.” He said, leaving him with no more snacks to bet and sulking in the corner before you feel “too full” and give him half of your “hard earned” snacks.

“One more.” He groaned holding out scissors to your rock, you smiled a little annoyed. His fist rested on his palm once again. You crossed your arms, refusing to play again, you won fair and square after all. It’s what you’re owed. He looked at the ground, kicking his feet on nothing. He wasn’t Arataki “Make you feel bad for winning against him, but you can’t help it” Itto for nothing.

“Itto.” You warned, you just really wanted to eat now. You both have been standing there for the better part of 10 minutes playing this endless game. You were growing very impatient for this date.

“Just one more., please (Y/N)? Pretty please?” He begged, playing his puppy dog eyes on you, on any other occasion you would have given in, but you had a particular location in mind for your date. Uyuu Restaurant, you had saved up all of 2 weeks of odd jobs for Itto.

“Just admit I won.” You pat his shoulder in a comforting way, mockingly of course. He knew how to play his cards, but he always managed to give what he was hiding.

“Mhmmfine.” He finally gave in, sulking a little bit as you walked up the path toward Uyuu. He stopped a few times assuming that you were going to choose one of the usual spots, but your eyes were locked on your destination.

When you arrived at the doors, Itto looked like the blood had drained from face, the gang rarely ate here. It was expensive and for a short time Itto was banned. You urged him to join you inside. “Are you sure I’m even allowed in here anymore?” He whispered to you.

“Don’t worry, I checked and you’re all good. Here!” You pointed to the two lone bar stools in the back. “Perfect! I thought they might have been taken” You sit on the stool closest to the wall, waiting for service, Itto settling in next to you.

You both started talking as waited to be served, nothing too involved, just some ideas Itto had for the gang. Something about hitting the new “Mondstat tourist market” having met a strange green bard a few weeks back, advising him about the “True Mondstat Experience” before you could get too in depth about this new “business venture”. A server cleared his throat, looking at you.

“What can get you two?” He smiled, pointing above him for the menu.

“I’ll have a beer.” He said politely, trying not to disturb the buzzing atmosphere of the dinner hour.

“Make that two beers and some Tri-Flavored Skewers to start us off?” You looked at Itto for confirmation and he nodded warily, a little dizzy thinking about the bill already.

Before you had a chance to continue talking, there were two beers and a very delicious platter of skewers awaiting in front of you.

“A second round after we finish these?” You added, pointing at your drinks. The server nodded, continuing to take orders from the bar.

“Nothing better than beer and skewers” You said, bringing your hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. You grabbed one, tearing off a piece and sighing at how good it was. Couldn’t get this quality at a cheap bar outside the main city. Itto grabbed one and bit his fangs into it from the side, you intently stared at his teeth before looking away. You felt flushed and you hadn’t even touched your beer yet.

“So that bard, right? Voice of angel I swear. Almost fell asleep the minute he started a tale. Definitely not because it was boring, but that voice!” He added emphasis where needed, as animated as ever. “Something about him really draws you in.” He added, nodding as he took a huge sip of his beer. You nod along to his tale, only interjecting with questions about this mystery bard from Mondstat.

“Enough about what I’ve been doing, tell me where you’ve been? I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes this last month.” He frowned, tilting his head to the side. You choked slightly on your drink, hoping he wouldn’t ask. You clear your throat with his eyes completely focused on you.

“I’ve been working mostly, keeping records for the warehouse while the festival was going on.” You feel slightly boring compared to Itto’s grand time at the festival, ending up in the hospital where you visited him the next day, flowers in hand and a small bag of his favourite candy.

“Run into some money trouble? The Arataki Gang always asks for help, remember that.” He was frowning again, this was more frowning than should usually happen on a date.

“No, nothing like that. I was just saving for this.” You said, looking away.

“For this?” He asked, still missing the point. “For dinner with you.” You added, blushing as you took another sip of beer for your nerves.

He nodded, turning to face the bar, waving the bartender down for refill, thanking the Archons that the beer seemed to hide blush. “For me?” He chuckled, somewhat humbly, flustered and flattered that one of his most trusted friends and members would go to such trouble.

“Yeah, for you.” You said softly. As if on cue, your server returned asking for your dinner orders. Without needing to ask Itto, you order Tonkotsu Ramen for him and Butter Crab for yourself, you deserved it.

“You don’t have…” He said, a little more shy than before. “I can just have the Udon Noodles, I don’t want you to spend that much.” He shook his head, his hands waving the suggested meal away. “Nonsense, it’s so good.” You smiled, sending the server on his way and getting your second refill.

You and Itto were practically drooling by the time the main course arrived, having had an extra beer each while chatting away. Itto thanked you profusely, declaring that he owes you next time before digging in. You started chewing away at the criminally delicious crab, the meat soft and buttery in the perfect way. You both enjoy yourselves, you try desperately not to disturb fellow customers every time Itto had you in stitches.

“And then you wouldn’t believe who I saw-” He whispered low against you mid story, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who?”

“General Kujou Sara was in line RIGHT next to me, I almost had a heart attack, thought I was trespassing the line for the limited Ms.Hina merch sale.” He added, still low in your ear, this voice was making you light-headed with the added beer.

“No.” You said, shocked. Itto’s eyes glinted, he loves telling stories and you would say right now in your buzzed state that he was better than whoever that bard was.

“Yes! Except she wasn’t in line for Ms.Hina like I was, but a limited Shogun figure!” He said, his facial expression exploding with the surprise he had on his face that day. You laughed, taking the final bite of your meal and finishing off your beer just after Itto had.

“That hit the spot.” You sigh, stretching and yawning. “Let me walk you home:” Itto laughed, asking for the bill, you nodded. This was probably the best first date you’ve had in a while. Itto felt a bit embarrassed looking at the sizable bill, watching you drop your hard earned money on a twenty five thousand mora meal. You just thanked your server, taking Itto by the arm to leave.

With full stomachs and hot cheeks you both left Uyuu, you suggested some dessert on the way back and Itto nodded pointing out a food stall with relatively cheap dango.

“Two Tricolor Dango, please!” You said, pulling out your wallet before Itto cleared his throat stepping in front of you.

“Let me cover this.” Itto interjected, pulling out some mora before you could even protest, giving the vendor the money. “You paid for dinner, let me cover it.” He took the dango from the vendor, turning to you with a smirk. “Wouldn't wanna tarnish my Arataki “Always the Gentlemen Even if He’s Kinda Broke Right Now” Itto reputation, would I now?” He said, handing you one of the tri-color dango.

You moved your party down to the taller walls around the food stall, sitting together with your feet dangling. Itto nudged you to look over at him.

“Thank you for dinner, (Y/N). Don’t remember the last time it was just us.” He said before taking one of the spheres into his mouth in one go, chewing away happily. “It was a good time, Haha!” He laughed, cheeks full of dessert. You took a bite as well, chewing and swallowing unlike the oni.

“It really was a nice date, Itto. Thank you” You add look up at him for a moment, the moon reflecting in your eyes. You look away bashfully, chewing your dessert much less loudly than the big oni next to you. Regardless of the hiccups, it was a lovely day you recall. No one seemed to make you laugh as much or made you feel as safe as he did, it was only natural to finally ask him out. When you looked back at him, his cheeks were full of his second treat already, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Thifs wath a dae?” Itto asked, mouthful of dango, he swallowed hard. “Archons. This was a date.” He repeated to him, a deep blush settling on his cheeks. He felt suddenly embarrassed by his usual behaviour. If he knew this was a date, he would’ve doubled the Arataki “Hopeless Romantic, but refuses to admit it even to himself” Itto charm, maybe bought you flowers and not insisted on winning the stupid rock, paper, scissors match. “Why didn’t you tell me??” He abandoned his last dango next to him, turning to you and taking your hands in his.

“I thought you knew” You laughed a little, your clear amusement making him even more embarrassed. “I did say “Hey, you want to go out for dinner?” and when you were already running to invite the entire gang, I stopped you.” Itto bowed his head down to hide his face in your hands, now very aware of your implications earlier that day. “I’m an idiot.” He whined against your hands, you could feel how hot his face was.

“Hey you’re not an idiot, I should’ve been more clear.” You lift his face up to stare into his fiery red eyes. “Why don’t we start from scratch?” You smiled softly, watching his expression change from, frankly, cute sadness to hopefulness. “You really wanna still go out with me after this?” He searched your eyes and you laughed to yourself, he really was the sweetest (and only) oni you’ve ever met. “Now you’re being an idiot, of course I do.” His demeanour lightens up, grabbing your hands excitedly. He stood up and dragged you along with him which wasn’t hard considering how goddamn strong he is.

“Hey! Slow down, big guy” You gasp as he marches with determination you’ve only seen in the toughest of beetle battles, you resign to your fate, being dragged through the streets of Inazuma City. You whip past closed restaurants and stalls, the city quiet, save a few cicadas in the late summer air.

“Here.” He stopped, letting you go finally. You rub your arm a little, frowning before you look in front of you, Itto smiling proudly as you look over the calm water. “What do you think?” He shrunk into himself after you didn’t say anything, scratching the back of his neck. “Itto, I-” It was beautiful, you didn’t quite have the words to say, so you sat down on the ground. You urged him to join, patting the spot next to you.

“This is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve been here this late.” Your hands are glued to your lap, afraid to make things weird for the oni, though he seemed content just sitting there together. “I come here to think a lot..” He stared up at the moon, relaxing with you in his presence, letting his usual mask slip. “Just about things, ya know? Life, Granny, The boys… You.” He admitted the last thing while staring at the ground, careful not to let you see how flustered he was. “You’re surprisingly introspective.” You chuckled softly and in a moment of confidence you slipped your hand to his.

“I hope you have no complaints about me!” You blurted nervously, laughing stiffly toward the end. “No, no.” He laughed too, the vibrations landing deep in your chest. “All good things. Promise.” He squeezed your hand and looked at you, a wide grin on his face.

Watching the eternal cherry blossoms fall into the water, you sat silently together. Probably for the first time since you met Arataki Itto, he had nothing to say. He was just happily watching the small cat across the water play with the floating blossoms on the water, his thumb rubbing small circles around yours.

“Itto?” You turned to him, putting your other hand over his, trying to grab his attention,

“Hm?” He questioned, not taking his eyes off the moon, his red eyes holding a beautiful reflection in them.

“This not-date-date was great.” He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky, the stars more visible since you arrived here, you took your hand away making him frown a little, but you cupped his face bringing him closer. He held his breath as you forced him to face you, his eyes darting around your face. “What’s u-up? Something on my face or somethin’?” He said nervously, you rolled your eyes, facing your body toward him.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, his eyes lit up, his mouth about 2 seconds too fast for his brain as he nodded. “Am I dead? Did the Shogun strike me down finally? I think I might be in heaven!” He rushed through his sentence, dramatically holding his hand to chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Shut up and just kiss me, idiot.” You smile and roll your eyes, you give him a chaste peck on the lips before he pulls you in deeper, humming into it as you locked lips. He felt warm as he snaked his arm around your wait, pulling you close to him.

You squeaked in surprise when he lifted you up, putting you on his lap, hugging you tight. “Never wanna leave.” He murmured into your chest as he engulfed you. You kissed the base of one of his horns, Itto hummed in content, melting into you.

You stayed like that for a while before a chill settled over the night, you going to tough time explaining to Shinobu why you both were out this late without telling anyone, but why worry when Arataki “Officially Numero Uno in Your Heart” Itto was rubbing circles into your back?

#arataki itto x reader #x reader #fluff #genshin fanfic #arataki itto x male reader #itto x reader #itto x male reader #genshin impact itto #genshin x reader #x male reader #gay #arataki itto #male reader #genshin impact x reader

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kaibutsushidousha · 12 days

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Do you think Japanese names should be localized as is (Family Name first) or should the order be in keeping with western order (Family Name last)? Does context matter?

The answer to "Does context matter?" will always be yes. That said, while I have many examples where Western name order is acceptable, I don't have any examples where it's preferable.

Western name order was invented to more easily acclimate the English-speaking world to Japanese names. Still, Chinese people have been part of their cultural sphere for much longer and have never been subjected to Western name order (correct me if I'm wrong, I've never researched this in depth). Later, with the popularization of Korean media, the Koreans didn't get their name order reversed either. The phenomenon seems exclusive to Japan as far as I've seen it.

Until a few years back, I was of the mind that Western name order was preferable by default, but actually talking to Japanese people about it showed most of them don't like their names used in reverse order, so now I avoid Western name order for real, which is slowing bleeding into me avoiding it for fictional characters too.

Another factor to consider is that Western name order was created as part of a process of acclimation to a new foreign culture and I feel like we're already at the point where America and Europe are already acclimated. The transition period is already over and Western name order can retire with its purpose fulfilled. However, I admit my lens here is very biased by my extensive contact with Japan and its culture.

But for a more nuanced discussion here, let's assume Western name order is still preferable by default and look at examples of where I would have used Eastern name order even when that was the mindset.

Steins;Gate is an example of a thing I'd maintain in Eastern name order since the original LabMem call each other nicknames based on this name order (Okarin for Okabe Rintarou, Mayushii for Mayuri Shiina, and Daru for Hashida Itaru) and there are a lot additional jokes based on those nicknames. I could adapt all of those if I were to insist on Western name order, but that's too much extra work for no tangible benefit. Not to mention the average otaku level of the cast raising the Western accessibility bar regardless of what name order we're going with.

That said, Sagrada Reset has a lot less pushing factors than Steins;Gate but I still opted for Eastern name order in my translation just to accommodate the wordplay with Oka Eri's name. Just one small thing like this is enough.

Another example of a series where Western name order doesn't work is Type-Moon, mostly thanks to the Fate/ side that currently comprises 80% of it. Many Servants are Chinese (+ a Vietnamese pair), who don't customarily get Western name orders, so it would feel randomly inconsistent if the Japanese characters did. Any series that plays multiculturalism as a major element should default to each character's original name order to better express differences between nations. There is also how the text itself plays with name order, which is a neat thing to reflect in a translation. I'm talking about how every Japanese character uses Eastern name order for Rin, Shirou, Ayaka, Kiritsugu, Aoko, Touko, etc. while the majority of the Clock Tower/Snowfield people use Western name order. Waver being a rare English man who calls Japanese people by Eastern name order informs character, for example.

Lastly, I have Danganronpa as an example of a series where it's okay to use Western name order. The only major nickname involving Eastern name order is Harumaki, which needs to change anyway for some puns. All characters have Japanese names except Celestia Ludenberg and Sonia Nevermind, and those two don't swap the order of anyone's name, so you're not removing any level of characterization unique to them by working this change. No harm to be had.

#japanese help

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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 year

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tell me how it got this way | ch.5

pairing: jungkook x f.reader, hoseok x f.reader genre: fwb to lovers/friends to lovers, love triangle | angst, smut, fluff | non-idol!au chapter rating: mature, minors dni warnings: drinking, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), jimin is a little shit (affectionate), swearing, i think that's it word count: ~6k a/n: other idols pop up in this chapter (ateez & seventeen), they're really just used as names. ages aren't relevant and you can assume they're all generally around the same age. the final part (at least for what i have planned) is also finished and i'm going to post that next week! prev | masterlist | next

When Namjoon had initially pitched the idea of selling the movie rights for your books, your answer was immediate. No. Movies rarely, actually, came out as good as the books and you felt like you lost so much of the finer detail. If you had wanted to see your work on the big screen, you would be writing screenplays instead of full-length novels. Which, okay, that sounded pretentious even in your head, but whatever. Namjoon got the picture and the conversation was tabled temporarily.

About two months after that, Namjoon had found what he called a compromise. You weren’t sure how it was a compromise since it was your work and you didn’t want to sell the rights. Until Namjoon reminded you that the publishing company also had a stake. Point: Namjoon. It was a good point, though, because a streaming service wanted to pick up the rights to just the first book as a test and do a limited-run series as opposed to a movie. Namjoon was very clear on the differences here. The budget, in some ways, would definitely be smaller, you aren’t looking at big superstar names, and, most importantly, you have to either sign on as a co-writer for the screenplays or fully sign the rights over. They were fine with either option, they just knew that there wasn’t enough in your book for the standard 8-10 episodes.

And that answer was just as immediate. Yes. These were the kinds of chances that authors hoped for. Yes, it will still be different from the book. This just gives you much more leeway to include the important details and even flush characters out more in a way that’s just too much for a book. You’re not Stephen King over here releasing his “unedited” version of The Stand, which, if you’re being honest, was kind of (read: insanely) self-indulgent. Not that you’re comparing yourself to Stephen King, either. To each their own and all that.

So, with Namjoon’s guidance, you signed a deal where you’d co-write the episodes with a team who actually have a lot of experience doing just that. Really, you know you’re just there to keep everything true to the world that’s lived in your head for years. That’s why they want you. Some people will stumble onto this show never having heard of the books (and Namjoon hopes it’ll make them buy a copy), but others will tune in expecting it to come off the same way they’ve been imagining, for characters to make decisions that feel authentic.

You actually kind of loved the writing sessions. It was really amazing to see how things came together and to be in a room where you didn’t need to shout to be heard. Everyone there was genuinely interested in your feedback, and you tried to be conscious of when to just let the process unfold. It was collaborative in the best way. The only hard thing was keeping it all under wraps from almost everyone. The whole team had decided that they wouldn’t announce the news until the rough copies of the scripts were finished enough to move on to casting.

Now, that you’re having to sit through casting auditions, you’re rethinking your entire life that has led to this moment. No, that is not dramatic. You gave the casting team literal pages on pages for every character that needed to have any sort of significant role in the show and had even worked with someone for fucking *mood boards* for the main characters. There were days when you barely slept because you had to churn things out for casting. All so you could turn the rough scripts into final copies. What else did they want from you?

To sit through casting calls, apparently. So fine. You can eat craft services with the best of them.

After a few days, you do start to see the point in it all, see the times when the casting team liked two people for a particular part and looked to you as the deciding factor. While it felt like a lot of pressure, it also allowed you to make sure everything felt right. It was never just about physical appearance, that was always fluid. You also didn’t want Kristen Stewart in the Twilight movies with one damn expression the entire time. (No shade to Kristen Stewart, it just wasn’t anyone’s best look in those movies).

The one positive is that you’ve managed to meet a few people you actually kind of like. And, okay, yeah, they’re mostly assistants to some of the more important people in the process, but those people are stuffy and very unlikely to gossip with you around the water cooler. Since you’ve never had a normal office job, this is a very important part of actually getting to work with people. Namjoon scoffs a lot at this, says that it’s probably good that you haven’t had a normal office job. He spends a lot of time letting you know actual office jobs aren’t anything like sitcoms, which is funny considering the office where he works. Maybe he doesn’t gossip around the water cooler, but you’ve definitely seen the assistants gathering. Even heard his name come up a time or two. Heard how attractive they all seem to think he is. They’re not wrong.

Your new friends are also the type of people who insist that you absolutely have to join them when they decide happy hour is the perfect way to end the day. As San points out, you have the morning off tomorrow anyway. When you ask why it would matter if it was just happy hour, Wooyoung promptly elbows San hard in the ribs and says it doesn’t. You don’t miss the conspiratorial look on their faces, but fuck it. Happy hour sounds good.

Your head is pounding and it feels like you got hit by a freight train. You don’t even remember getting that drunk the night before. The whole evening is kind of a blur of shots and bright lights and off-key karaoke. It was just supposed to be happy hour, which you learned quickly was your first mistake. There was no such thing as just happy hour with San, Wooyoung, and their insanely chaotic group of friends. And as the sleep is wearing off, something else creeps in. There is an arm draped over you. You’re not alone in your bed. Peeking one eye open, you’re immediately struck with the fact that these aren’t your walls, not your sheets, this isn’t your bed. You’re praying on everything that you don’t believe in that the arm belongs to one of the other people you’d gone out with the night before. You remember thinking one of Wooyoung’s friends was cute and tall and smiley, a little flirty and a little shy too. And then you see the hands. And the rings. With a careful glance back, you confirm it’s Hoseok, shirtless (you don’t need to check if it’s wearing anything else).

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It’s rushing back. You quickly learned San and Wooyoung had no intention of letting you go after just happy hour. They were all convinced you were too stressed and that what you really needed was a patented WooSan (yes, they had a couple name, despite not actually being in a relationship) night of fun. You briefly considered protesting, but really, what was the point? And fuck, they weren’t wrong.

So happy hour turned into multiple stops. Wooyoung was on a karaoke mission and although you had never heard him sing, you instinctively thought drunken karaoke was never a good idea. (You were wrong, he had the voice of an angel to match his personality of the devil.) Karaoke meant meeting up with more of their friends. And somehow, because fate was cruel, one of their friends had brought along his friend Hoseok. You remember staring at him like a deer in headlights before declaring everything was fine and hitting the shots. There also may have been a lot of flirting with Wooyoung’s tall friend with the shy smile whose name you couldn’t remember.

Now, in the light of day, it was not fine. You gingerly slide out from underneath his arm and carefully get out of the bed, tiptoeing over to what you can only hope and assume is a bathroom, phone snatched off the nightstand on the way. You’re thanking drunk you for not making it harder to find.

Once you’re in the safety of the bathroom, you sink down to the floor and take a couple of breaths. You’re not sure if it’s the hangover rearing its ugly head or just the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You: Yoongi are you up? You: Please be up, I need you! You: This is important! Like one of those most important things in the world.

Yoongi isn’t answering and you’re starting to panic. You need someone to talk you through this. So you call him, knowing that it might get his attention. The first call goes to voicemail and so you try again. This time after the second ring you hear him grunt a frustrated “what?” and then hang up.

Yoongi: What the fuck? You call twice and hang up on me? You: Because I need you

Missed call from Yoongi

Yoongi: Then answer the fucking phone You: I *can’t* You: Yoongi, I fucked up, like really fucked up Yoongi: What’s going on? You: I went out drinking last night and ugh I did something really fucking stupid Yoongi: Whatever it is, it’s not that serious You: I just woke up next to Hobi… You: Like I’m in fucking university again Yoongi: … Yoongi: I’m going back to bed, you’re being dramatic You: I’m *not* this is SERIOUS Yoongi: It’s not that serious You: I’ve spent 5 years trying to get over the way he treated me, so yeah it’s a big deal Yoongi: it’s just drunken sex and I’m tired You: oh my god, give the phone to Jimin Yoongi: Just text him You: Yoongi, please

You stare at the phone and try to figure out what else to say when the screen lights up again.

Yoongi: I have a very grumpy boyfriend You: Jimin, thank god Yoongi (Jimin): what is it my little problem child? You: Just read up Yoongi (Jimin): You bitch, you went out and got drunk and didn’t invite me? You: Jimin can we focus please? Yoongi (Jimin): Who did you go out with? You: Is this really the time? Yoongi (Jimin): I’m waiting You: Fuck Jimin, just some people that are working on the show You: Now can we please talk about this colossal mistake? Yoongi (Jimin): I’ll be there to pick you up and take your hungover ass to get breakfast, which is more than you deserve since you went out WITHOUT ME You: Thank you and I will never go out without inviting you again Yoongi (Jimin): Better

You’ve taken way too long in the bathroom and you know there’s a chance Hoseok will be awake now. But you can’t bring yourself to leave the bathroom until you get the text from Jimin that he’s downstairs. Bless him for being an absolute angel, even when it’s his horns keeping the halo upright.

Despite being a colossal pain in the ass about nearly everything in life, Jimin does actually come through and take you to one of the best meals you’ve ever had. Or maybe you’re just that hungover. You don’t really know. He’s also somehow managed to bring you a change of clothes (which, you’re not really sure if they’re actually yours or where they came from, but the outfit looks remarkably put together) and makeup so you don’t have to go all the way home. You try to ask why he’s so prepared and he only gives a vague answer about how you didn’t know him before Yoongi and smirks. You’re immediately filing that away for another day when you do remember to invite Jimin out to drink with you and whatever group you’ve been dragged into.

When Jimin drops you off at the studio (another point to Jimin) where your car is still conveniently parked from the night before, you’re feeling and looking significantly more human. You know you owe him, he doesn’t have to say it. But he’s Park Jimin so he says it anyway and you just smile.

The auditions feel a little less tedious with a stomach full of greasy food the day after a much-needed night out (where you will be pretending that you did not fuck Hoseok again). You’re looking for some more minor characters today. If things go well and you end up doing a second season based on the second book, they could play a much bigger role. For now, though, it’s still small.

Realistically, you’re not hungry because Jimin really did hook you up. Then again, the food is there and it’s free, so you’re looking over to decide what you might actually want to try. Someone approaches the other side of the table, looking tentative. You immediately recognize him as one of the guys you pointed out as fitting the right look for one of your characters. He was sweet, kind of endearing, but with really striking features.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself,” he says and you look up. “I’m Chan.”

“I remember,” you say and you’re being honest. You were insistent that he be kept around to audition.

“Wow, I didn’t think…well that’s great. I’m excited to get the chance. Thank you so much,” Chan says and you realize this might be a big deal for him.

“No problem, you just remind me of him,” you say.

“I was talking to my dance teacher before the first audition,” Chan starts and you raise an eyebrow. “Oh, I know this isn’t a dancing part, I just like to take the classes.”

“That’s fair,” you say.

“And I was really worried about the audition and how it would go,” Chan says. “But my dance teacher, he’s awesome, he said he had gone to school with you and used to be friends with you and all that and that you were really nice.”

That one statement brought you up completely short. What the fuck?

“Who’s your dance teacher?” You already know the answer because really, who else could it be? Still, you need to hear him say it.

“Oh, Jung Hoseok,” Chan says quickly and you force a smile. “Do you remember him? He gave me all this great advice about the audition and said he’d try to reach out to you if it made me feel better. He’s so nice.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s been ages since I’ve spoken to him though,” you say, hoping that you succeed in the attempt at nonchalance.

“Yeah, he said that. I think he was just trying to help me feel better, offering to reach out,” Chan agrees. “I get it though. You’ve had so much success as a writer, so it makes sense you wouldn’t still talk to everyone from college. It’s so cool they’re turning your book into a series and you’re so young!”

“I feel like I’ve been writing for like 20 years with how much it ages me sometimes,” you say to distract yourself from thinking of Hoseok.

“I actually…read all the books when they came out, I’m a big fan,” Chan says and blushes like it’s embarrassing to admit. You think it’s sweet. One of the PAs calls out for you, though.

“Good luck today, Chan. It’s been really great speaking to you,” you say and excuse yourself.

Honestly, you can’t believe the audacity of fucking Jung Hoseok to say what he had to this poor kid. Playing it off like he knows you, making it seem like you just used to be friends. And what was he thinking, offering to reach out to you on behalf of this kid?

That’s when a truly sickening thought settles into your brain. Takes root in a way that you know you can’t shake it. One of those intrusive thoughts that shouldn’t ever exist. Was that what this all was? Is this why he reached out? Does he just want to help one of his dancers get a role in your new series? That would be seriously fucked up if that was the case. And you hate thinking he could be capable of something like that. The reality is that you used to know Hoseok, while the guy who wrecked you was a complete stranger and there’s no way of knowing which one had shown up now.

The rest of the day is kind of a wash from a concentration standpoint. You’re a million miles away and thankfully, nobody seems to call you on it. You’re not sure if it’s because they’ve worked with writers before that had their heads in the clouds or because you’re still answering all the questions asked of you. Either way, you’re not really there at all.

Over the next day or so, you decide the best way forward is to continue ignoring Hoseok (despite him texting you multiple times wanting to talk about what happened after karaoke). Instead of talking to Hoseok, you do the completely rational thing and talk to every other person you trust. How can you decide on the next move without multiple opinions?

You can’t.

Yoongi is first up and he’s exceptionally grumpy since you woke him up before he was ready to be a person. It may not have been that early by normal human standards, but Yoongi is only part human and part gremlin, you think, so he’s never really followed normal hours. Once he’s done being grumpy, he takes his time being thoughtful. As far as he sees it, this was just some drunken sex. It isn’t like Hoseok actually asked for anything, that you remember. And you insist you remember everything from the night. For all you know, it was just stress relief for both of you. No point in getting worked up.

Since Jimin is there and incapable of being ignored, he also gets to weigh in. Which is welcome, actually, because Jimin can be really calculating when he wants to be. He asks a lot of questions, both about the guy you were friends with and the fight that ended it all. You’re just about ready to call this conversation a day when Jimin says he doesn’t think it sounds like something malicious. There’s only one way to know for sure, though, and he suggests that you just talk to Hoseok like an adult with multiple published books and a streaming deal. There’s Park Jimin for you.

Part of you wants to ask Namjoon, but thinks better of it. The Affair incident is fresh in your mind and you really don’t need to give him another reason to question your sanity. There are enough of those just in everyday life. And you just had to relive the entire fight with Jimin so you’re not too eager to explain all the backstory to Namjoon.

Which makes the final person you ask Jungkook. His opinion is so incredibly important to you, yet it’s the one that you’re least excited about getting. It means you also have to tell him about sleeping with Hoseok, a fact that you have carefully avoided. Not that you owe Jungkook every detail of your life, because you’re not actually in a relationship. It’s just that, sometimes, with how much you depend on each other, it feels like something more. Feels like it’s much more than just some friends-with-benefits type situation.

In true Jungkook fashion, he takes the news in stride and doesn’t linger on you fucking this stranger that reappeared at the Gala and hasn’t seemed to go away since then. He’s thoughtful, Hoseok has come up a lot in your conversations lately, so he doesn’t have to ask questions like Jimin. And you tell him how frustrating it was to answer them, anyway. There’s no escaping it when Jungkook comes to the same conclusion, though.

“Just talk to him,” Jungkook urges, “you’ll feel so much better being able to gauge his answer.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say and Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at that.

“For what?” he asks.

“Getting drunk and making a stupid fucking mistake by fucking him,” you answer, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s really not a big deal for you and me,” Jungkook says.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You hate how small your voice sounds.

Jungkook closes the space between you and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sure. I’m here for whatever you need.”

This brings you to texting Hoseok.

And that brings you to sit down in a coffee shop with him, because apparently you can’t just text or go to each other’s apartment, like normal people. Which is nice too, actually, because it gives you a chance to see more of the city than just your apartment or the studio where you’ve been working. It allows you to people watch, see those rushing by in a haze mingled with those taking their time. Let’s your overactive imagination come up with a story for each of them.

You still aren’t even sure if you want to forgive Hoseok for everything that happened all those years ago. And with all the writing sessions and casting calls, you haven’t exactly had a lot of time to even think, let alone talk to anyone outside of your small circle. Which isn’t totally out of character, you’ve never been one for a huge circle of friends or social engagements. It just makes everything a little more complicated now as you’re trying to sort out feelings.

Hoseok beat you to the coffee shop this time, seemingly by a bit since he’s going to get his second cup just after you sit down. You spare a passing thought that maybe he’s nervous about talking to you. He certainly seems like he is. Weirdly it makes you less nervous. It makes you feel somehow more in control of the situation because you do know what you want to say.

“So,” Hoseok begins after he sits back down, “about the other night…”

“Actually, that isn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” you say, watching his eyes go wide.

“What?” he stutters out.

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of related? But also not,” you say. “I met Lee Chan at a casting call the other day.”

Whatever Hoseok was expecting, it’s not this. He tries to connect the dots for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Okay? He’s a great kid, I’m glad he decided to go to the auditions after all.”

“That’s it?” You’re watching him for a reaction that just isn’t there. Maybe, despite The Fight, he’s still more or less the person you were friends with.

“I’m not sure what else to say about him,” Hoseok admits.

“Okay, cards on the table,” you say with a confidence you don’t entirely feel. “Did you show back up in my life to help your student get a part in my series?”

Hoseok chokes on his drink when the question comes out, turns into a coughing mess and takes a minute to clear his throat. “What the fuck? Is that what you think? Come on, you know me…”

“I don’t though, do I? Not anymore,” you disagree and there’s finally an emotion on his face that you can place: hurt. He’s hurt and you’re not sure how to feel about that. Your feelings about him are still so mixed up. A big part of you wants to comfort him, though. Which isn’t exactly the response you’d expected.

“Maybe I deserve that, but it still hurts,” Hoseok says. You chew your bottom lip while you think.

“It hurt to have the thought it was possible too, trust me,” you say. “But it was weird timing, you know? Chan introduced himself during his second audition, later the same day I woke up in your bed.”

“I would never sleep with you to help a student get something out of it,” Hoseok says earnestly. “I’d never sleep with you to get anything out of it.”

“I want to believe that,” you admit.

“I had no idea that you’d be there. Another guy from the studio who teaches but also takes my master classes is friends with your friends that invited you out. He asked if I wanted to come out, I wasn’t busy, so I figured why not?” Hoseok explains. “And then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“Hoseok,” you say, a quiet warning.

“Actually, I wake up and you’re sneaking out without saying anything,” he amends.

“I needed to not be there,” you say because it’s all you can say.

“I get that, I know you’re seeing someone, but we needed to talk about it,” Hoseok says.

“Yeah, Jungkook knows,” you say and feel your heart constrict a bit at the way Hoseok pales.

“What?” Hoseok asks. When you don’t say anything, he continues. “Please tell me you’re kidding, he looks like he could kick my ass and barely break a sweat.”

“He would never,” you disagree. “My…relationship, if you wanna call it that, with Jungkook isn’t exactly what you think? Like he’s not my boyfriend, we’re not exclusive or anything like that.”

“But you let me think you were?” He doesn’t look upset, just confused if anything.

“Yeah, I know,” you say and he’s still watching you carefully. “It was just easier and honestly, I didn’t feel like I owed you an explanation for my personal life after all these years.”

“I - yeah, okay, I guess I have to respect that,” Hoseok agrees. “But we still need to talk.”

“I’m not ready,” you say immediately, try not to feel anything when he deflates.

“I guess I just thought…since you asked to meet me,” Hoseok says, trailing off.

“I needed to know if you really just did that for a student,” you offer.

“You believe that I didn’t, right? That I wouldn’t?” Hoseok asks with so much hope that you’re not sure you can take it.

“I do, yeah,” you say. You’ve barely had time to process, but you know you do believe he wouldn’t do that. It’s about all you know when it comes to him now.

“I really do need you to know how sorry I am,” Hoseok says and you start to open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Please, you don’t have to say anything, just let me say this? Please?”

He looks so much younger, so vulnerable for a moment. All you do is nod.

“I know sorry isn’t what you need to hear, I get that. I know that I can’t go back and change that fight and all the fucking stupid shit that I said. Stuff that I didn’t mean. And I do hear you that you’re not ready. I just want you to know that I’m so sorry,” Hoseok says.

You let out your breath. “I do know that Hobi, at least on some level.”

“I’ve, well I’ve done a lot of thinking about that day. I talked to a lot of people, both friends and a therapist, actually. There aren’t any excuses for what I did, no matter what was going on in my head. If I’ve learned anything over the past few years, it’s definitely that. So I want to make sure you know that when you are ready, if you’re ever ready, I won’t make any excuses. What happened was entirely my fault and I completely acknowledge that,” he says, so earnestly.

“I appreciate that,” you say because it’s all you really can think up.

This was supposed to clear your head up, which it has in some ways. You feel a little silly for even thinking that Hoseok would do something like sleep with you to help get someone he only kind of knows a role in a TV series. And you’re also questioning your friends since none of them pointed out you were having a full breakdown over a man. Not your finest moment.

But with that one, small thing cleared up, your mind immediately goes back to the bigger issue: Hoseok has reappeared in your life and you really need to figure out how you feel about that. You’ve missed him, of course. You’re not going to deny that very obvious truth. On top of that, you also very clearly have some sort of feelings for him. After all, you’re not stupid college kids anymore. It’s not like you can pretend the sex was meaningless.

Hoseok, showing some definite growth from your college days, accepts it when you say that you just can’t talk about all the very real things you need to right now. Accepts it when you say that you believe him but you have to go. Accepts that you’re running late for something. The only problem is that you’re not running late. It’s not like you actually planned for after your talk with him. It was too much to even think about how the conversation was going to go.

Now it’s over, though, and you don’t really want to go home to be alone with your thoughts. One of the few times that you don’t like that you live alone. Don’t like that you don’t have a built-in person that can just be there without you having to explain what you’re feeling or that you don’t want to be alone. Which is when your brain goes to Jungkook. He’s become that person that you go to when you don’t want to be alone or when you need to get out of your own head.

Except you’re not really sure that’s fair to him. Not really sure if seeing him right now is going to help you. Since the Gala, he’s been nothing but supportive and understanding. This is too much, though, isn’t it? Sure, you and he have never really wanted to bother labeling things, both just happy with the way things are. Things have naturally kind of evolved, but you haven’t stopped to talk about any of it. Sure, Jungkook always assures you that it’s fine, that he’s happy to be there whenever you need him.

The healthiest thing to do is go home and actually try to sort out your feelings. The second healthiest thing to do would be to call Yoongi and tell him that you actually need to talk to him (which you do, desperately, need his help).

None of the healthy options include texting Wooyoung to see if he’s got any plans that night. The healthy ways to process definitely don’t include agreeing to go out for happy hour knowing full well what that means with Wooyoung. At least this time, you invite Jimin to avoid one disaster.

(Jimin agrees to come and agrees to your terms that he’s not allowed to ask if you’re okay or if you want to talk. Agrees that he won’t tell Yoongi even if he thinks you’re making reckless decisions. He also finds a way to tell Wooyoung’s friend not to invite Hoseok this time without outing you. When you’re sober, you’ll probably thank Jimin. Maybe. There is always his ego to consider.)

“I feel like I’ve seen you around somewhere,” San muses, looking at Jimin.

Jimin just smiles his most mischievous smile and shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Probably.”

“Jimin is one of my best friends, he’s been by the studio a few times,” you say when it’s clear Jimin isn’t going to provide any more context. He sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I’m also dating her platonic soulmate, so she’s stuck with me,” Jimin adds and you snort.

“Is that what we’re calling Yoongi these days?” you ask. Jimin smiles a real smile, eyes crinkling.

“Honestly, yes, your friendship with him is so sweet, it makes me sick,” Jimin says with nothing but affection.

San seems satisfied and Wooyoung just looks enamored by anything Jimin says. Which is actually kind of cute because you can tell he’s not even interested in Jimin like that, just genuinely wants to be his friend. And you definitely get that. Jimin is one of the sweetest, most charismatic people that you know. Yes, he can be a devious little shit, but when he’s like this, it’s impossible to not like him.

That’s just kind of how the night goes. Thankfully, it’s not quite as crazy as the last time you went out with this group. You learn the tall guy’s name is Mingi and for some reason, he seems weirdly shy around you. It’s cute and he’s incredibly sweet. Jimin fits in seamlessly, which isn’t a surprise to you with how many times you’ve seen him like this.

What is a surprise, though, is that Jimin keeps demanding you get up and dance with him. Since, of course, happy hour turned into going someplace else. It wasn’t just Jimin that wanted to dance and now you were just along for the ride. He also insisted that you were a safe choice to dance with and also gave you a sob story about how Yoongi would never dance with him at the club.

(Probably true, crowds and people and this kind of thing were definitely not Yoongi’s first or second or even last choice. It’s also true that Jimin is a really amazing dancer and you’re a little intimidated by him. You’re also, thankfully, just buzzed enough to not really care.)

It’s the early hours of the morning when you finally head home, feeling a lot lighter than you had after leaving Hoseok. In fact, you haven’t checked your messages since meeting up with Jimin, Wooyoung, San, and the others. There’s something freeing about just putting everything on Do Not Disturb and enjoying the moment.

By the time you get out of the car at your apartment, the alcohol haze is already wearing off. Which ends up being a good thing when you open your door to see someone sitting on your couch. There’s a half second of panic, of your brain calculating fight or flight, before you realize that it’s just Jungkook. Sitting on your couch, watching TV like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” you say, hand on your chest like you’re about to die. A little overdramatic, maybe, but your brain is still a little hazy around the edges.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes immediately going comically wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“No, it’s fine,” you say as you toe off your shoes and drop your keys and bag on the table by the door.

“I really am sorry,” he says. It’s easy to believe when he looks that bashful. “I don’t even know why I came over. I just, well I texted you after I got out of my shoot to see how things went and you didn’t answer.”

“Oh yeah, I went out for drinks with Jimin and some friends from the set,” you say and Jungkook nods.

“Yeah, he actually texted me,” Jungkook admits and you just chuckle. Of course he did, you think. “But I was already on my way over here and your apartment is more comfortable than mine. I can leave though?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s late,” you say as you collapse on the couch with him. “One rule, though.”

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about the conversation with Hobi right now,” you say quietly as you nestle into Jungkook’s side.

You miss the way that he tenses for a minute at the way the old nickname falls so easily from your lips. Miss the way it takes his arms a minute to wrap around you. Miss the way his face falls a little at you not wanting to talk to him about something.

“Of course, whatever you need,” Jungkook says.

You don’t hear the way his voice sounds a little hollow, a little less animated than it usually does. He wants to mean it, wants to keep being there for you however you need him. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. He can do this.

all of them are kinda going through it right now, but please let me know your thoughts <3

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