#I just got a text asking what RPF was……

[mycological-mariner]

My bff is so fucking funny, I need to study him. Dude just started reading more about the crew of the Terra Nova, found out about Jessamine, says he read that (apparently, I couldn’t find where he got this) Scott once referred to Deb as “she” and immediately followed this up with “It was the morning after. At least he got some before he died!” And I’ve just been running that back and forth inside my brain for a week

[katsu28]

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. ��No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[nayedoll]

sweet coffee

joost klein x reader

summary : joost shows up at your apartment drunk two months after your breakup.

genre: fluff

rpf ahead, do not read if uncomfortable !!!

────────────────────────

You checked the time, unable to fall asleep after god knows how long you had been trying for. The clock read 4:01 A.M, the bright light emitting from it overwhelming your eyes. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, accepting your fate for yet another night.

You had never been one to suffer from insomnia, the sudden lack of sleep getting to you and ruining every aspect of your daily life. You tried to convince yourself that it was the work stress but deep down you knew that the real reason behind your sleep problems was your recent breakup with your boyfriend of three years.

You and Joost had met at the coffee shop that you worked at as a struggling student during your university years. Absolutely mesmerized by you, Joost would come by everyday and order the same coffee; a cappuccino latte. It didn’t take long before you both fell in love with each other, helping one another heal from the struggles of the past.

But what started as a sweet relationship ended in the most bitter way you could have imagined. When Joost was picked to represent his country in Eurovision, you knew that he wouldn’t spend as much time with you anymore due to the hard preparation for such a big contest, something that you respected.

However, with time you felt him distancing himself from you more and more, calling you once every few days and giving dry replies. You tried to stay patient so as not to stress him out even more but him going on tour immediately after the contest ended was the last straw for you. After multiple days of nonstop arguing and crying, you finally made the hard decision to break up with him one day before his flight to Canada for a festival there.

Two months later, you were now sitting at the floor of your apartment with the windows wide open as you let the chilly summer night breeze clear your mind. You grabbed your phone and scrolled through your old texts with Joost. The last conversation you’d had with him was the morning after you told him to end things.

may 27, 8:06 A.M

you left your hoodie here.

it’s ok u can keep it.

oh ok. thanks

Seen

You took a deep breath as you realized you were wearing the same hoodie right now, softly playing with the fabric to feel some kind of comfort. Seeing things from a different perspective now made you think about how stupid it had been of you to end a three year relationship just like that.

The guilt overtook your thoughts as you felt tears swelling up in your eyes. The sudden loud banging on your door made you flinch in fear, quickly wiping away any tears with the sleeves of your -or his-hoodie. You got up slowly to check who it was, carefully looking through the peep hole.

Your heart stopped at the distorted sight of Joost outside of your apartment door. You quickly opened the door and his face lit up at your presence.

“Mijn liefste,” he exclaimed and you pulled him into your apartment by his hand in a hurry before any of your neighbors could come out and realize where all the noise was coming from.

Closing the door, he immediately quieted down as he hugged you tightly. You reluctantly hugged him back, feeling how sweaty he was. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, obviously having come back from a night out.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and tried to pull back but he didn’t let you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, his voice as sweet as ever.

“I didn’t know you were in Amsterdam. Aren’t you on tour?”

He tried to answer your question but gave up halfway, giving you an idea of just how drunk he was. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight, reminiscing all the times you’d seen Joost in similar circumstances in the past. He finally let go of you and you grabbed his hand, caressing it.

“Let’s take care of this first,” you laughed and he nodded as you tried your best to keep him from falling with Joost being way taller than you. After some minutes of struggling, you finally managed to walk him to the bathroom and left him alone to take a shower.

Meanwhile you made your way to the kitchen to make him some food, in hopes to sober him up a little. Finally having some time to your thoughts, you smiled to yourself as you recalled him calling you liefste earlier, a word you had grown accustomed to hearing while dating him along with other pet names.

He shortly came out of the shower already looking a lot more sober and collected. He smiled at you as you passed him the food, the two of you holding eye contact for a moment longer. Your eyes trailed to his body and you noticed he was only wearing a towel, growing worried that he might catch a cold.

“Hold on,” you hurried into the bedroom that you once shared, searching for any of his clothes. Luckily you came across some baggy boxers you’d stolen from him a while back, finally returning them to Joost.

He thanked you, though he was still topless. You got the idea to pass him the hoodie you were wearing, since it was his to begin with. As you took the hoodie off without a second thought, you were left with nothing than a bralette on top, making Joost glance to the floor to hide his smirk. You playfully slapped him on the shoulder before putting the hoodie on him, your eyes meeting again under the warm kitchen light, at a closer proximity.

It was evident in your eyes that you had so much to say to each other but didn’t even know where to start. He briefly looked down at your lips and you would have kissed him right then and there if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked exhausted.

“You should get some sleep,” you advised him as you stepped away. He looked away from you mumbling something in agreement.

He lied down on the couch and you recalled memories from the past when he’d carry you to the couch after getting back home together as his soft lips littered your face and body with small, gentle kisses.

“Sorry for waking you up earlier,” he said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, not that I was asleep anyway,” you reassured him. Joost made a curious face at your last words.

“How so?”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t been sleeping very well for some time after we…” you trailed off and he nodded apologetically. Things went silent for a few seconds, leaving you both to your thoughts.

“Come here,” Joost whispered, you looked over as he patted the empty space next to him. You smiled and slowly lied down with him as he rested his hand atop your waist. He turned to face you, your faces now inches away from each other.

This time you couldn’t avoid it. You kissed him, reluctantly at first but with more confidence as you felt him kiss you back. It was a sweet and slow kiss, mirroring the unconditional love between you both.

He pulled away, your breaths shallow from the length of the kiss.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly as his fingers caressed your face and lips.

“I love you too,” you whispered. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, Joost’s soft pants and the distant sound of the passing cars lulling you to sleep. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Joost wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

-

The bright morning sun woke you up, finding yourself still in Joost’s arms. You reached for your phone to check the time, the gesture making Joost wake up as well.

“Goedenmorgen,” he said in a raspy voice, placing a peck on your lips.

“Good morning,” you replied and got up from the couch, lightly stretching your arms to feel more awake.

“What time is it?” Joost asked, rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

“9:34 A.M”

He nodded, following you to the kitchen where the warm sunlight was emitting from the window. He sat on the chair, staring at you making breakfast.

“What?” you laughed noticing his smile and intense stare.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, you turned around to hide the blush forming in your cheeks. His compliments felt like the warm rays of sunshine against your back as your face beamed with a smile.

“What coffee do you want?” you asked, voice still raspy from the sleep.

“Een cappuccino latte, please”

[exyrpf]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

1/?

👑 girlbossriko follow

how many bro jobs do you think it took before riko moriyama and kevin day realized that uh.....maybe this wasn't just a bro thing

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

how many times do they have to come out and say they're like brothers before you freakos stop shipping them

👑 girlbossriko follow

????? do i know u

#it's a tumblr post about two exy players that you'lll never meet in your life it really isn't that deep

558 notes

💃fox-me-up follow

ngl that newest fox is kinda 👀

#psu lb #exy lb

8 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

The NARRATIVE that kevin day and neil josten have........son of exy! scouting the rookie-est of rookies from fuck knows arizona........no listen you dont GET IT winning is EVERYTHING TO KEVIN and he would risk it on the foxes? And NEIL? who has only played exy for a year! NEIL Gets his attention!!!!! And hes good and he's getting better every game and he keeps bitching about kevin's ex on live tv BUT WAIT!???? NOT QUITE WHAT YOU EXPECT! Bc then neil shows up with a number on his cheek BECAUSE WELL it turns out they've known each other since they were KIDS! how is everyone not insane w me THEY'RE LITERALLY PERFECT

#where r my fellow njkd truthers #how r u all not here with me this isnt even the start #kevneil #210 #psu #njkd

102 notes

☀️ usctrojanny

every smiley blonde striker (jeremy knox) needs a brunette wet cat emotional support backliner (jean moreau)

#jerejean #usc trojans #i'm just saying 🤷‍♀️

58 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

did he just......

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

guys please tell me i'm not insane

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

HE'S NEVER BEEN????? SKIIING???? KEVIN WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ?????? KEVIN PLEASE

#i i'm going insane i will literally die if someone doesn't explain this to me HE'S NEVER BEEN SKIING?!!!!

407 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

oh....i'm feeling so weak......it'd sure be nice to have a big strong goalie (renee walker) hold me up (renee if you're free on tuesday i am also free on tuesday.........on tuesday this tuesday, any tuesday?)

#literally passing out just thinking about her holding me don't call don't text i'm busy

84 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

do u think if u offered kevin day essential oils to heal his hand he'd beat you to death

#it'd be hard for him bc he only has one hand but he could probably do it #legally this is a joke don't do this

284 notes

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

feeling normal

215 notes

📜 realexyblog

actually exy rpf is fine, i asked kayleigh day herself and she told me it was fine

112 notes

🐋 sexyexy

'exy is a stupid name for a sport' have you considered that a) i don't care and b) it's named that solely so i can make sex jokes about it

11 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

is he, ya know *mimes jerking off* an ncaa exy player

#i don't believe that straight exy players exist

56 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard!!!!!!! 🥰🥰 short king!!!!🤏🤏😋😋 Awwwwwwww the scrunkly!!!!! 🤗🤗🤗 My boinky boy!!!!!🥺🥺 Crinkly doo,,,,shronkle scrimblo......🥺🥺🥺 rb if you'd scrunkle!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

📖 sapphic-exy follow

he literally killed someone

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#also no proof he did that #yeah there's proof his twin bro killed someone but that's not the same bc theyre different people #almost killing someone doesnt count

807 notes

🐦‍⬛ edgarallenexy

got told i'm problematic for liking the ravens? THAT'S LITERALLY MY SCHOOL OH MY GOD

2 notes

🌸 softexy

Kevin Day - A Study

#kevin day #psu foxes #palmetto foxes #exy #web weave #poetry #psu foxes #palmetto #edgar allen

378 notes

[wesstars]

touch

jenna ortega x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: jenna, your lovely girlfriend, has been away filming for far too long, in your opinion. she thinks so, too. wc: 2.6k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. all characters are 18+. phone sex, masturbation, bad dirty talk lmao, this is basically all bad dirty talk, light D/s dynamics, name calling/slight degradation, praise, reader is a soft dom, strap-on referred to as “cock,” horribly excessive use of italics, feels a bit odd writing rpf… a/n: @crazyoffher :) returning the favor!

masterlist

6:01 pm

call u in a sec?

A grin lighting up your face at the text, you hurriedly type an affirmative reply as you unlock your apartment door. Dropping your bag, you kick your shoes off, sighing as you shed your coat. Making a beeline for your bedroom, your eyes slide shut as you flop down on your gigantic bed. You’d washed the sheets earlier, and they were feeling extra soft. If Jenna were here, she’d be rolling around in them, covering her own scent with one of fresh linen.

Usually, she was—you were lounging in your shared apartment, a wide open space near the top of a sleek, tall building. Every evening in LA, the two of you could be found here, the appeal of a night in far exceeding that of a night out. A bottle of wine and a packet of popcorn to share wasn’t rare either, the expensive drink wasted on you two young lovers. 

Everything had happened so quickly, but you loved it. A chance meeting on a plane had led to a long conversation about anything and everything, so common for new couples, and one-drink dates across busy nights had culminated into a fateful party invitation and an equally fateful blushing confession. Your relationship was wild, and crazy, and everything you could’ve wanted. A year later, Jenna had surprised you with a set of keys. It was a certain kind of promise that made those long nights, waiting for a phone call from half a world away, so worth it.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seeing the ID, you instantly pick up.

“Jenna?”

“Hey,” her familiar voice comes shyly through the speaker, a comforting sound. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just got home from work.”

Jenna hums in a way that tells you she’s plotting something, and her little stifled giggle just confirms your suspicions. You fake a sigh, happy to venture into her ploy.

“Jenna, did you have something to drink?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh. “I just miss you. Tired of me already?” She asks, with innocent veneer.

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s good to hear from you, you're so busy now, I had to talk to your secretary,” you teased. She was busy, but you’d already done the calculation of Jenna’s timezone to yours—for her, filming would’ve just wrapped up in the midnight hours. For you, the setting sun was just beginning to stream through the glass walls, and you pressed the button on the nightstand to draw the curtains.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” Jenna presses on casually, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Jenna,” you smile. It was a dialogue you two had often, something you never tired of. 

“Mmm,” Jenna’s voice tugs in your stomach, lilting into a whine at the end of her emission, “I miss you, baby.”

Your mouth goes dry; it’s an automatic reaction. Damnit, this girl—she knew what kind of effect she had on you. You were glad the room was dark, because if you had to face your own blushing cheeks in the light, you might’ve just collapsed. You pull the phone away from your ear long enough to take a deep breath. “Do you, Jen?” Keeping your voice composed, you roll the end of the duvet between your fingers to keep you grounded.

“Miss you so much,” she says, the rustling in the background telling you she’s rolling on the covers. She lets out a lilting laugh, the sound sending a swooping, giddy feeling into your stomach. Jenna’s trying to lure you in; it was her game: enticing you with that docile, persuasive tone.

You decided to play, though you held back just a bit. “How much?”

“Some of your clothes still smell like you,” she says in lieu of a direct answer. “So I’m wearing your big shirt, the black one.” You’d been wondering where that shirt went, one you often slept in. Even now, you can see in your head how Jenna looked when she stole that shirt: it cut off at her thighs, the kind of sacrilegious short that inspired crimes. It reminds you of countless times she’d surprised you, when you slid your hands up under the hem to find—

“What else, Jen?”

“No bra,” she replies sweetly, laughing lightly at the end. 

“No bra, huh,” you repeat. You can practically feel your pupils dilating, the heat around your collar. “Good.”

“And this,” Jenna sighs, “lace number I got here; it looks like the one you gave me last year.” 

Your jaw clenches, and you glance at the clock, looking but not seeing. You remember what she’s talking about—a pair of panties, an expensive little excuse for fabric that grew dark at the slightest moisture. Jenna’s birthday had ended in a long, long night.

“It’s red,” she says, “just like my nails.”

Fuck. Everything feels hot, and you can just picture her in that standard issue trailer, lights dimmed, alone in a way that should be illegal. “How much time do you have?”

“Not a lot… got an early morning tomorrow.” There's a trailing edge of disappointment in her voice, but you’re familiar with her—she’s looking, hoping for you to guide her, to push her in the way only you know how.

You breathe in, deeply, your own desire quickly falling prey to Jenna’s. She had you wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure, but she trusted you to hold her down. “Hand in your hair, Jenna. Gentle,” you instruct.

You hear her sharp inhale, but you have no question that she’ll listen. When Jenna gets like this, playful but pliant, you know she’s willing to go with just about anything you ask. It’s torture for you, each second you wait. “Now pull.”

Her responding whimper sends a bolt of heat down your neck, and you let out a silent breath. Jenna loved it when you would touch her hair, even when it was as innocent as just braiding it. The haze in her eyes when you’d tug on her locks, telling her how good she feels, was your favorite. “Harder. Do you like it?”

She breathes out, “yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Tell me what’s been on your mind to get you eager like this.” She’s shy, you hear it in her sigh, even though her hands are still running in her hair. “C’mon.”

“I miss your mouth on my neck.” The words tumble out of her almost immediately, and you dare to wonder if that’s been on her mind all day. The bruises you’d left there before filming started were long gone, no doubt. She’d begged you to make them darker, and you were all too happy to please. “I miss the car, before the airport…”

Those frantic, heated ten minutes you two were able to spare in the car before Jenna’s flight were chastised by her manager and makeup team, but you wouldn’t have traded them for anything. “That’s perfect Jen,” you coax gently. She liked your encouragement, you knew. 

“And…” it’s as if something snaps in the air on the telephone line, pushing both you and Jenna’s inhibitions to the ground. “I wish you were here,” she whispers, the cliche line sending equally cliche butterflies rushing through your lower stomach. “I’d be on my knees for your cock right now, and you’d pull my hair, so I’d-” she whines, a small and breathless noise-“suck it so good ‘cause I know where it’s going next—”

“Fingers in your mouth,” you interrupt, blood rushing in your ears. “And listen to me.” If you’d let Jenna keep going, you might’ve just booked a plane ticket right then and there. You can hear her obey you through the speaker, moaning softly. “Play with your nipples under your shirt. Be gentle.” It’s a warning, you know she knows, and a reminder that you control her pace.

“Mmm,” she hums, complying. It’s practically confession on bended knee, how her muffled whimper makes something shoot through your lower stomach.

“Press down on your tongue.” You hear her breath shaking, right in your ear. It makes you bite your tongue to keep from moaning out loud. “Don’t gag, don’t be greedy, Jenna.” She whines around her fingers, and you know her telltale little cry as she touches herself as instructed. You can hear that she’s not being as gentle as you wanted, but you had always been weak for your girl.

“You wanna put on a show for me, honey? Twist.” You wouldn’t know it, but Jenna instantly closes her eyes at the word show, her pulse spiking.

Jenna’s uneven breaths are pure song to you through the speaker, and it puts your every nerve on edge, remembering how she would sprawl on your sheets, just like how you were now, happy to be over or under you. She’s so vocal tonight, every exhale coming out with a small oh, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of something more than just the distance and time between you two.

The cadence of her breathing matches your stuttering heart. “For someone that likes having her mouth stuffed,” you mutter, “you sure wanna talk real bad.”

The whimper Jenna lets out is enough of an answer.

“Alright babydoll, you can take your fingers out.” Almost immediately, you can hear her panting. You keep your voice even, despite the heat on your cheeks. “I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I am…”

“Two fingers in your cunt.”

“What about-” you can hear her swallow- “what about my underwear?”

“Push it to the side,” you say, dismissive. You could practically see Jenna like this, warm brown hair splayed on the pillows, shirt rucked up to her breasts, with enough want to end a war.

It’s silent on the other side of the line, save for the shallow breaths you hear her taking. “Are you waiting, good girl?”

She hums an affirmative. 

“Go ahead, I won’t make you beg right now,” you say with a nonchalance you absolutely do not have, “fuck yourself.”

Her breathy laugh in response would drive a saint to sin, and she’s only all too eager to comply. Jenna’s shudder comes out in her moan as she shoves two fingers in herself, shameless in her need.

You close your eyes, her quiet little moan telling you all you need to know. The impatient groan she gives you is just vulnerable enough to be desperate, and it makes your head swim.

Jenna’s voice is small. “You know…”

“What is it, darling?”

“Wish I could put this on a camera for you, baby,” she whines, breath hitching. “Wish you could watch me right now.”

The mere thought of it is enough to have you biting your lip, hard enough to bleed. With the way that Jenna loved to perform, the idea had occurred to you before, but you were always too hesitant to bring it up. “You want me to see you, don’t you? Blushing and wanting all by yourself,” you mock, your arousal overriding your rationality, “you need someone to fuck you, is that it?”

“I need you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I don’t remember it all, and,” her voice breaks, “you’ll make me watch our video later, to make me like this again.” You close your eyes again, your knuckles growing white around the sheets fisted in your hand. 

“Like what, Jenna?”

“Messy, and-” her voice climbs higher with a gasp-“needy.”

The words cling in your mind, ivy on a terrace. It only takes half a moment for your mind to conjure her up again, flushed cheeks and two fingers deep in her pussy, framed by red lace.

“Is that what you are, mmm?”

She gives a moan, and you laugh because she’s embarrassed. It’s nearly pathetic, how bad you wish you could see Jenna’s face.

“Want…” There’s a hesitant pause. “Want your hand around my throat, too.”

God, no one knew how to play you quite like Jenna did. “Jenna,” you groan, your facade rapidly crumbling, “you’d look so pretty like that, baby.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agrees mindlessly, “I like it ‘cause…” her voice is strained in a way that you just know she has her head thrown back, strong and delicate, “you’re so gentle.” It’s with a bleeding intimacy that momentarily makes you forget you’re thousands of miles away from Jenna, and the only thing you can think of is her warm eyes on yours, just begging for you to touch her.

She quiets down, and in the damning silence that follows, you hear her fucking herself. And because you know your girl, you know she wants you to hear.

“That’s filthy, Jen,” you say, matter-of-factly. It makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“I know,” she whines, and you can hear her going just that bit faster. “Fuck-” she exhales sharply- “I’m—I’m close.”

“Already?”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispers, and you know with every hitched moan, she’s hitting that spot inside of her. She’s not sorry, and you certainly aren’t either. “I can’t help it…”

You hum noncommittally, feeling anything but. “Don’t come until I say, alright?”

Jenna moans right into the receiver, and you can tell she’s frustrated to high hell. You laugh lowly, something cruel, and it only serves to fuel the way your fingers crave the smooth of her skin, how your tongue wants for her taste.

But that’s when you hear it, blazing through the fog in your mind, of brown eyes and pink lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She falters, breathing ragged. “Please let me…” A beat.

“Let you…?” You press on. 

“Please,” her voice edges on the right side of desperate, the side that makes all of you pulse. “Baby, I’m so close…”

“I know,” you say simply. 

There’s a silence that hangs in the air, and you know without seeing that Jenna’s cheeks are so red with her embarrassment that you could’ve slapped her and not gotten that same glow. You wait, patiently, nails biting into your skin.

“Let me come, please.” Her voice comes out like a quiet sob, resistance broken by her desire.

Letting out a long breath, you press the phone harder to your ear, feeling your fingers tremble. “You’re such a needy slut, Jenna.” She whines again, pleading and keening.

“I know,” she’s soft with it, “I am… so, please?”

You bite your lip, mind swimming, letting her plea hang in the air. 

“Come for me, Jenna.”

It's quiet, at first, and then you hear it—a soft, little ah from where she’s clapped a hand over her mouth, and then muffled moans spilling out from behind as she tries so desperately to not let anyone else hear. You clench your jaw, wanting so bad to tear Jenna’s hand from her mouth just so you can take in every little whimper, quiet her with your mouth instead. But you whisper praises into the phone instead, coaxing her through her orgasm. She comes hard, you can hear it in the way she pants after she’s calmed down.

Jenna’s breathing evens out, and you know it before she does—she’s asleep. Your eyes close again, fist clenched in your bedsheets. It wasn’t the first time that she’d fallen asleep right after she came, and it makes a soft little grin play on your lips. The other end of the line is a loving, sated silence. You keep your voice low, not wanting to wake her.

“God, the things I’m gonna do to you, Jenna.”

--

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[yapperblog]

Thought you'd hate me

but instead you called and said I miss you

Tags: unresolved feelings, a little big of angst, she fell first but he fell harder, smut +18 only, softdom!joost, fem!reader, fingering, riding, unprotected PinV.

RPF below don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You sigh as you find yourself in front of his door. Again. In the message he sent at 3:15 AM he told you the door will be open, but you still ring the doorbell. After no one opens it, you feel a slight nervous shiver down your spine. You decide to leave the dilemma of your weak morals for tomorrow, you are already here, might as well see where the night leads you. You reach for the handle and open it.

"Hello?" you say as you enter his apartment.

You turn to twist the lock on the door, a familiar smell envelops you. Not much has changed since the last time you've been here. More often you have been rushed past his front door, already tangled in a kiss, tearing at each others clothes. This time you weirdly want to look around and take it all in, you are still not sure if this is the last time you walk past his doorstep, but you want to remember it.

You and Joost have a messy history. It all started so simple, you met through a mutual friend and found out you two have a lot in common. As soon as you started talking, you knew something special could brew from this. It was so easy to be next to him, every bit of attention from him was intoxicating.

You also found out you live a walking distance from each other, which led to you two hanging out more often outside of the friend group. After one drunk night out, just the two of you, one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap, hands wrapped in each other's hair, having the best sex of your life. Your relationship turned into friends with benefits, never crossing into anything more even after a year. You did everything a couple would do together, but never put a label on it. Due to him traveling a lot and focusing on music, you felt he didn't want a serious relationship, so when he asked what you thought about dating, you just brushed it off, not wanting to be a burden to him.

You did this often. You were so overprotective of your feelings, you wouldn't let anyone near, in case they hurt you emotionally, which from your past experiences - they usually did. So you learnt to end things before you get too attached. You knew it was too late, he was the best partner you've had. So thoughtful, caring, funny, incredible sex, but you could just not open up to him the same way he did to you. It hurt, but gradually you made an effort to see him less, you would decline his invitations to hang out, until one day you just simply ignored his message to come over.

Until today, when you saw him again at a friend's birthday party. You knew he got back from tour already and would be at that party. You were nervous to see him again, but to skip it would be even worse. You immediately spotted him, even in a room full of people, somehow you could always tell where he was, your eyes just gravitated towards him. When eventually, after mingling with different people, you ended up in the same circle, he made it seem so easy to see you again, like it was no big deal. You felt a sting of pain, but you couldn't be upset, you were the one to push him away. So, you came to a conclusion that you made the right decision, if it is so easy for him to move on, it is better this way. You stayed until the end of the party, everyone got pretty drunk, your heart still felt heavy knowing he is close, but at the same time so far away, and it was all your fault for pushing away the one good thing you had.

You got back home around 3 AM. You were ready for bed, until you got a notification. You checked your phone and saw it was a text from Joost.

"Come in." his voice brings you back to your current situation. You notice a warm glow from the nightstand lamp coming from around the corner, where his bedroom is.

Your legs start walking as if by themselves, you don't remember making that decision. His voice just draws you in.

You stop by the doorframe, leaning against it. You take in the sight of him. Only one nightstand lamp is turned on, you remember your shared hatred of overhead big light. He is laying on the bed, his legs swaying off the side of it. His jeans are halfway unzipped, low on his hips, the belt undone and shirt half unbuttoned, like he couldn't decide what to take off first and gave up on both. He must be as drunk as you are now, he should look like a mess, but he doesn't. He always managed to look clean, one of the many things you liked about him. He turns his head to look at you and you notice a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He got into a bad habit of smoking in bed, you used to joke he would end up living in one of those houses that have yellow walls from the constant smoking.

"You should start locking your door." you say, your arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. You want to look nonchalant, like your heart isn't trying to get out of your chest.

"I don't usually leave it open." he says, his voice raspy, like it usually got when he was drunk. "Only on special occasions." he puts one hand behind his head not to crane his neck to see you better.

"Have a lot of special occasions?" you ask. You do wonder if he was with anyone in the time you haven't seen each other.

He huffs in amusement and turns to look at the ceiling. You think he looks so pretty, just laying there.

"Come here." his voice barely above a whisper, but he knows you will hear. You always do, sometimes he thinks you can hear his thoughts, his deepest secrets.

You don't move from your place, your hands crossing tighter on your chest. The distance you want to keep breaks his heart, he needs to stop this feeling and distract himself. He reaches for the lighter in the pocket of his jeans.

"Joost, open the window at least." you say softly before he lights the cigarette. It is not your place to tell him what to do, but you still care.

He smiles and remembers your joke about the yellow walls. Always so quick with a funny remark. He misses it. He sits down on the bed, his movements slow. He zips up his pants and puts the belt back on, his hands fumbling trying to put it through the loops. With his shirt still half unbuttoned, he stands up and walks past you, around the bed and heads towards the window. There is a chair next to it already, you notice a sketchbook you got him on the windowsill by an ashtray. You never saw this little routine of his, you imagine him drawing next to an open window, a cigarette in his hand. You want to flip through it.

He sits on the chair, lighting a cigarette. "Will you come in now?"

You finally walk in and head towards the bed. You prop yourself against the bedframe. His bed is as comfortable as you remember, you even bought the same duvet and pillow set he has, but you swear it still doesn't feel as good his. Maybe you expected it to come with that familiar aftershave smell, which of course it didn't.

"What did you want to talk about?" you break the silence.

"Us." he says quickly. Always honest and straight to the point.

"What about us?" your eyes focus on him. His legs are crossed, a light breeze coming from the window tussling his hair.

"You have been ignoring me and I want to know why. I really don't understand what I did wrong."

"I told you we should have ended this a long time ago." you did tell him this in the last time message you sent him. But he wasn't going to accept that, so he walked to your apartment, when you opened the door, you could barely even look at him. Very abruptly you told him you need to stop seeing each other, it's not healthy for the both of you. He was so confused at the sudden change, he couldn't even come up with anything to say in defence. He thought you must have met someone else, you haven't promised each other anything, but he felt betrayed. So he turned around and left.

"Why did you come then?" he asks, looking at you intensely.

"I knew you were drunk after the party and would pass out on the bed, I didn't want you to sleep with the front door open." you come up with an excuse. He has always been like an open book with you, however you are now doubting yourself if you've read him correctly. It was you who was scared of the relationship and deeper feelings, not him. You realise the huge mistake you made all those months ago.

"You know..." he takes another drag of the cigarette. "I really used to think I had you figured out. And then you pulled that surprise on me. Really took me for a spin." he points to his head with the hand that has a cigarette in between his two fingers.

"Have to keep you on your toes, you know. You always said you wouldn't like the simple life." you try to joke. The room is silent for a second, you are worried, did you overstep, will he find it inappropriate. But he laughs with his whole chest, the tension resolving a little bit. If you can joke about it, he feels he still has a chance to fix things out between you.

"So why did you come?" his voice more relaxed now.

You both know the answer, he wants to hear you say it, but you are willing to drag this game a little longer. "You've got a great view from your apartment. I missed it."

He laughs again. You realise it might be your favorite sound in the world. He blows the smoke out of the window, then turns to look back at you. "You missed the view?"

"Yeah." you try to keep a straight face.

"It is a nice view." he looks out of the window. "I don't think you see it well from the bed though." he puts a cigarette in between his lips. "You should come closer to enjoy it." he beckons you closer with his hand. He tries to act cool, to hide the fact that you also still make him nervous, like it's the first time you met and he is trying so hard to win you over, to see you smile at something he said.

You stand up from the bed, and slowly make your way towards the window, you cross your arms to shield yourself from the breeze and lean in against the windowsill admiring the view. You can faintly see your own window from here, you wonder if he ever tried to see you. You can feel him next to you even without looking at him, your legs almost touching. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him, always so warm, even on coldest nights. You miss the feeling of him under your hands.

Slowly as if careful not scare you away, like a cat, he stands up and comes to stand next to you. Neither of you speak for a while, enjoying a silent night, it feels so natural to be next to each other. The months apart and previous tension slowly melting away. He notices you shiver.

He stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray and stands up to reach for a hoodie hanging on the back of the chair. "Here, put this on."

You turn to face him and he puts the hoodie around your shoulders. His hands brushing your exposed shoulders and arms in the process. A sigh leaves you, which he catches.

"Better?" he asks.

"I think this is the first time you put more clothes on me in this room and not the other way around." you joke.

"You are probably right." he laughs and you feel him physically relax. Humour has always been a common ground for the both of you to get more comfortable.

"I missed this." he confesses, his voice quiet. "I missed us." he reaches to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. As soon as he touches you, he studies your face, trying to see if it's okay.

You touch his hand. "I miss it too." you say and turn to look outside of the window again, you feel so stupid for the way you handled things. He moves to stand behind you, slowly wraps him arms around your waist, giving you space to retreat if you want. You don't. It feels so good to have him close again. You lean into his touch. He puts his head on your shoulder, next to your face.

"How did it take us so long to find each other again?" he asks, happy you didn't deny his embrace.

"I'm sorry" you say and you mean it with your whole heart.

He moves to sit back down on the chair and you turn to look at him. "So, is the view everything you remembered?" he says with a smirk.

"It might have become even better." you say and walk up to him, he spreads his legs to let you in even closer.

He looks up at you, his eyes are so blue even in the dim light. You place your arms on his shoulders. He hugs you around your middle, and puts his face on your stomach. You slowly brush his hair, enjoying the closeness of him.

"Have you been with anyone?" he asks, afraid to hear the answer.

You tried, you had a date planned with this guy you met at work, but you didn't end up going. It didn't feel right.

"No." you say honestly. "Have you?"

He is still holding you close to him, "I kissed someone." he says.

You shut your eyes. Your confidence slightly falling apart, the self-doubt creeping back in, he can move on and eventually will.

He feels you go solid under his arms and continues "But all I could think was you. It was not long after you broke things off with me. I was mad at you, I kept looking for things to distract myself with. I was mad that you wouldn't leave my head. Mad at the light I could see coming from your window" he looks up at you, his hands on your hips. "So I kissed this girl, who seemed interested in me, and all I could taste was you."

You look into his eyes, he looks so vulnerable like this, all you wish for is to go back in time and change everything, but you can't. You wait for him to continue.

A small laugh escapes him. "I ran away from her. I ran all the way home. It's embarrassing, I never figured out how to forget you." he hides his face into your stomach again, you smell just like he remembers. If he could freeze time and stay like this forever, you running your hands through his hair and so close to him, he would.

"Joost" you let out a breath you were holding. "You don't understand how sorry I am. The amount of pain I caused both us" you voice breaks and he looks up at you. "I don't know how I can ever fix this mistake I made."

"Baby." his hands on your hips move in soothing motions. "Come here" he says and this time you do, he moves you to sit on his thigh, your legs stay in between his.

Your face is right next to his, you can't stop looking at him. His stubble has grew in a little. You put your hand on the side of his face, he immediately leans into it, chasing your touch. All the walls you both tried to put up, crumbling completely. You close the distance between you, your lips moving against his, he wraps his arms around your waist, your chest now closer to his. One of your hands is holding his shoulder, the other is on the nape of his neck. He licks your bottom lip, asking you to open your mouth, you do and his tongue explores your mouth. He missed you in his arms so much, now he can't get enough, he can still taste the cocktail he saw you drink at the party. You feel him groan into your mouth as you pull at his hair, remembering how much he likes it.

You pull apart to catch your breath. You smile and wipe his lips, shiny with your lip gloss, it makes you throb between your legs, that it is your gloss on his lips. You close your legs looking for at least a slight friction, he moves his hand to your thigh, squeezing the soft skin, which startles a moan from you. It makes him twitch in his pants, you sound so much better than the scenarios he kept replaying in his head late at night, his hand moving in a fast pace under the covers, wrapped tightly around his dick, trying to imitate the tight squeeze of your pussy around him.

He moves his hand under your knee, moving you to sit on his lap your back to his chest. He spreads his legs, moving yours apart too.

"I want you." he feels so warm against your back, you can feel an outline of his hardening dick through his jeans pocking at your lower back.

"You have me." he says leaning closer to your ear. He stays close and leans into your hair, kissing softly. You swear you can feel him sniff your hair and moan quietly. This is not the first time you notice him doing it, he denied it the one time you asked him about it, but it turns you on even more. He leans in to kiss your shoulder, placing open mouth kisses to your neck. He bites gently on your skin, you hold his bicep by your side. You need something to ground yourself or you feel like you will float away, his mouth feels so good on you. His hands move from your thighs under your top.

"Is this okay?" he asks, you feel his hot breath on your shoulder.

"Yes." you reply. He smiles and places another kiss, his hands continuing to move under your top caressing your skin. He hasn't done anything yet, but you already feel how aroused you are, your panties sticking to you. His heavy breathing so close to you, only making you even more hot. The open window next to you is of no help. You feel him everywhere, but also want to speed things up.

"Touch me, please." you plead. Your needy voice feels like music to his ears.

"A little bit of patience." his hands move to cup you through your lacy bra. He massages your tits, feeling your nipples harden, you moan and cover your mouth with your hand. "So sensitive." he murmurs. He wants to watch you unravel for him just by touching your nipples, but decides to stash this idea for another time. He hopes there will be another. He moves your bra down to reveal you fully to him and continues his ministrations twisting and pinching your nipples, squeezing your soft skin, until you are writhing on top of him. Your ass moving right against his now fully hard dick, but he can wait.

"Let me hear you." he moves your hand away, which was covering your mouth.

"But the window" your voice is weak.

"Everyone else can also know how good I am making you feel." his hands move to the plush of your thighs, makes sure to push them apart. "Keep them like this, love" he tells and you nod. He pushes your skirt up, moving his hands higher up your inner thighs, your head falls on his shoulder while you let out a soft moan. There is already a wet pre-cum spot forming in his boxers from all the sounds he is pulling from you.

He swipes a finger in between your folds through your panties. "So wet." he says quietly, sitting up straighter, pulling you up with him by wrapping a hand around your middle. He moved his neck to see his hand in between your legs better. He spreads his legs even further, your hips are so wide apart, you feel a breeze touch your wetness, as he moves your panties to the side.

"Were you this excited to see the view?" he says feeling how wet you are. You can't even come up with anything to joke back as he finds your clit and starts moving his finger in slow circles around it, applying slight pressure.

You moan holding his wrist, your head still resting on his shoulder.

"Feels good?" he asks, you can hear him smiling.

"So good." you say and he speeds up his finger pulling even more delicious sounds from you. He wonders if anyone can actually hear you, would the neighbours complain, but decides it is worth it seeing that you don't mind. His finger moves lower through your folds, collecting the wetness as he circles around your hole. He feels it clench around nothing and you whine at his teasing.

"Shh, I've got you." he puts one finger inside of you. You feel so tight around him, he puts in a second finger and starts to make scissoring motions to stretch you for him.

You start to feel the pleasure building, moving to hold his bicep for support. You turn your neck to the side trying to find his lips. He lowers his head towards yours and you collide in a heated kiss. He puts in a third finger in and speeds up his motions, swallowing your moans.

"I'm so close." you turn to look at his fingers disappearing between your legs reaching deeper than yours ever could. Your skirt bunched up, legs spread wide, his hand that is wrapped around your middle is now applying pressure to your lower stomach, you must look a mess, but this is the most beautiful sight to him. His brows are in a frown, focused on a task at hand, so lost in bringing you pleasure.

"Cum for me. Cum on my fingers" he says and you feel the band snap and release on his fingers. Intense pleasure spreading all over your body. Your back arches, as he lets you ride your orgasm.

He pulls out his fingers, shiny with your slick and brings them to his mouth, licking it clean. You hear him groan, as you are still feeling aftershocks from your orgasm. It has been so long, you forgot how good he is at listening to your body, knowing exactly what you need.

He kisses your temple, as his lips slowly reach yours. The kiss is not rushed this time, tender. His lips feel soft against yours. You leave his tight embrace to stand up. Standing in front of him you take off your top, as well as your bra, which is still pulled down, revealing your chest to him and kneel in between his legs. You slide your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and reach for his belt. You quickly undo it, unzip his jeans while looking into his eyes, he is watching your every move. You reach to take off his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you and kicks them off, leaving them in a pile next to your top.

"Take off this too." he points at your skirt as he reaches for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the windowsill. You stand in front of him, placing your hands on the zipper of your skirt and pull it down slowly, making a show of shimmying it down your legs. Your panties are next. His eyes never leave you as he sits with his legs spread only in his half unbuttoned shirt and boxers, he lights the cigarette and takes a drag blowing smoke away from you towards the window.

"So beautiful." he can't stop looking at you.

Meanwhile you are thinking the same about him. You want to take a photo right now. He is leaned against the back of the chair, you can see an outline of his hard and waiting dick, the collar of his shirt reveals his chest hair. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the end of it glowing as he takes a long drag. You want to remember this forever.

You come closer to him, he leaves the cigarette hanging between his lips, as he puts both of his hands on the backs of your thighs and brings you flush against him and looks up at you. You can't help but giggle at how good he looks and all for you. You start to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. Once again you kneel in between his legs, your hands reach the waistband of his underwear and you look up at him for confirmation. He nods and you take them off, his dick springs up free and rests against his lower stomach, leaving a wet spot of his own pre-cum. He looks like a dream come true.

"Show me how much you've missed me" he says, his voice raspy from the cigarette and his arousal.

You move to straddle him. You take his dick into your hand, he sighs at your touch immediately. He needs this he needs to know you want him as much as he wants you. You spread his pre-cum around his length, moving your hand slowly up and down, twisting your wrist on his head, moving your thumb through the slit. He groans loudly. "Yes, just like this." You always loved how vocal he is during intimate moments. One of his hands is holding a cigarette, the other is on your hip, holding tight. You lean in to kiss along his jaw moving down to his neck, listening to his soft moans, as you keep touching his dick. You continue kissing his neck, he feels you start to suck on his skin about to leave a love bite, but you stop abruptly.

"Can I?" you ask unsure if he would want you to leave marks. You both know each others bodies so well, but this feels new at the same time.

"Please do." his head falls back, giving you more space. You lick up his throat and leave a few marks along your kisses. You smile at your work, this will be a fun reminder in the morning.

You decide not to tease him any longer, you want to feel him inside right this second. You lift yourself up using his shoulders for support, he is holding a cigarrete in one hand, and puts the other under your ass spreading your folds apart, helping you lower yourself onto him. You hold his dick and hover above him, swiping the head a couple of time to cover him in your slick. You are still wet from your previous climax, so it's easier to take him in. You both let out a moan as you start to lower yourself onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his length.

"You are so tight." he puts a cigarette in between his lips and starts to circle your clit carefully aware of your recent climax, not to overstimulate you. "Relax for me baby." the words coming out funny due to the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You take the cigarette and take a drag yourself. You inhale, keep it in for a while and then blow the smoke in his face slowly. He watches you and you can feel him twitch inside of you.

You pass the cigarette back to him, when he is fully inside of you. You start to lift yourself up and lower back down, setting a steady rhythm, trying to bring him as much pleasure as you can.

His pupils are blown wide, the blue irises barely visible, he is so hard, he could cum right now. But he wants this to last. One of his hands leaves your hips, he leans on the back of the chair and smokes, enjoying the view. Your head is thrown back, eyes shut, tits bouncing, you reach to pinch your nipple and clench around him. He thinks you look so good right now, lost in pleasure, this is what heaven must feel like. He can't ever loose you again.

"Good girl. Making me feel so good." he praises you and feels you clench even harder, as you continue moaning and moving on his length. He moves his gaze from your face, down your body and watches himself disappear between your folds, a mix of your arousal pooling at the base of him.

"I'm so close, Joost." you whine bouncing on him.

He wraps a hand around your back and reaches to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. Now both his hands free, he takes hold of your hips to help you move on him. He starts kissing your neck, and matches your moves with his own thrusts.

You feel him so deep inside of you, you scream in pleasure, as he starts to move you faster on him, holding you by your hips.

"Fuck. You feel so good." he is breathing heavy against your chest, his own climax getting closer. He brings his thumb up to your lips, you open your mouth and suck on his finger. "The things you do to me" he sighs at the picture before him. He hopes he remembers this forever. You swipe your tongue around his finger and he pulls it out, wet with your spit bringing it to your clit and starts to draw fast circles.

He leans in to whisper to you. "I think you were made for me." Somehow he always knew what to say to make you melt under him. It's like he knows exactly what you are worried about in that exact moment.

Your back arches, he puts an arm on your back to hold you. He feels you clench around him rapidly and with a loud moan you cum on him.

"That's it. That's my girl." his own rhythm becoming more sporadic. "Just a little longer. I'm right there." he starts to chase his own release.

"Where do you want me?" he asks feeling himself getting closer.

"Inside." you feel overstimulated, but still it feels so good. "Please." your nails on his shoulders are bound to leave red marks from how hard you are holding on to him.

After a few more wild thrusts, he pulls you flush against him and you feel him release into you. Some of his cum spilling out of you. You put your forehead against his, breathing heavily into each other's mouths, trying to come back to your senses.

He holds you close to him. "I'm glad you read my text today."

"Me too. And I really am sorry, Joost. I hope you can forgive me."

"Let's talk in the morning. We will figure everything out, yes?" he asks bringing your face closer to him, to look into your eyes.

"Yes."

"Can you stay over tonight? or do you want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"I don't think I can walk right now, Joost" you laugh.

"That was incredible, wasn't it?" he laughs too.

You start to stand up with a wince when he pulls out. He cleans you up and you fall asleep on his bed. The pillow still more comfortable than your own. You will try to figure your feelings for each other in the morning.

[icallhimjoey]

Define Close

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot

Author’s note: this sort of came about after taking small little bits from several requests that i combined and then shaped into what i wanted for myself, and for a minute, i thought 'what if i don't make this one extremely self-indulgent for once' but then... why the fuck wouldn't i? so...

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

One of those days.

You weren’t going to wait until you got home to ask Joe what pizza toppings he wanted. Not today. So you texted,

“peperoni or chicken?”

And it took just a few seconds for Joe to open Whatsapp and to reply.

“those my only two options?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to even think of any other pizza toppings, let alone get into some banter over text with your flatmate.

“joe”

There were a million ways for Joe to have read that, to have interpreted that. Yet, he got the tone of it just right.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it”

No playing. Just quick solutions to problems of which Joe didn’t even really know what they were yet. Then another text from him followed, asking you the question you’d just sent him.

“peperoni or chicken?”

“chicken”

You remembered exactly when this pizza tradition started. Could pinpoint the exact date, time, and place.

“no i was wrong.” “peperoni”

The first time you and Joe shared a pizza as new flatmates, was when you’d gotten home one morning, still very obviously in the outfit you’d left in the night before. Joe had been cooking up some breakfast in the kitchen and had his jokes ready, already grinning to himself when he hadn’t even seen you yet.

“Well, well, well,” he called over his shoulder as you took a moment by the front door to just... breathe. You would’ve tried gathering yourself, but there wasn’t much to gather.

“I know you said the plan was to go out and celebrate Friday, but you didn’t mention anything about Saturday morning,” you could hear the joy in Joe’s voice, all chipper and lively. He’d very clearly had a great night’s sleep, unlike you.

Joe heard footsteps, and when they stopped in the doorway, he turned his head to look. Spatula still in hand, eggs just about ready in the pan in front of him.

“Look at what the cat’s drag–...” the comment died on his tongue. “Jesus, are you all right?”

Joe had expected a tired, sloppy girl to have walked in. One with messy hair, eye make-up all smudged and sort of drunk a little, still.

He’d been right.

That was exactly what he was looking at, which should objectively be funny. Hence the smile that still lingered on his face as his brow slowly furrowed in confusion.

“You look like the inside of a shoe,”

Joe tried his hand at humour, but it fell completely flat.

What he hadn’t anticipated, was for his flatmate to look quite so sad in reaction to his comments. So very drained of life. You’d obviously been crying and looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment you just stood in that doorway, looked a little dazed because, um, why were you going into your shared living space again?

You needed your bed.

Without answering Joe, and without even really acknowledging him at all, you took a shuddering breath and slowly turned back around, only to ignore Joe’s question and disappear into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joe quickly turned the hob off and rounded the island to go after you. He was too late though, stepping into the hallway just as your bedroom door closed behind you. The immediate guilt that followed his poking-fun carried him over to stand in front of it, just enough self-restraint left to not just open your door and walk in right after you.

You didn’t seem like you needed to be pissed off any more than you already were.

From just outside of your bedroom door, you heard a very faint knock, followed by Joe’s voice, asking if you were all right once more.

“Did– did something happen? What’s going on?”

All you managed to do was sigh, just loud enough for Joe to catch it.

“What happened?”

But you didn’t want to get into it.

“Do you– hey,” Joe called your name, waited for a second, in case you wanted to answer him, but then when you didn’t, he followed it up with, “Do you want some breakfast?”

And honestly, breakfast sounded nice. But so did burying yourself into your duvet for a few days, where no one would try to look you in the eye, and where no one would try to make you talk. Were you going to listen to your rumbling stomach that wanted some food, or to the rest of your body that just wanted to be horizontal?

“Some scrambled eggs? Piece of toast?” 

You milled it over in your mind.

“Or, I could make you something else? You want some yoghurt? With some berries in?”

Joe tried. Was actively trying. But it didn’t seem to work, just didn’t seem to do the trick. It stayed silent on your side of the door.

“Some pizza?”

And it was meant as a careful joke. A hopeful small little thing to at least lift the mood, if nothing else. If you were even still listening to him at all, that was.

He was about to tell you that he’d be in the kitchen if you needed anything, that you could just let him know. No worries if not. But then he heard rustling. Stumbling footsteps, followed by your bedroom door slowly opening.

“Hey,” Joe cocked his head to the side at the sight of you, his eyes all soft, forehead crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

You looked right past him.

“What... what kind of pizza?”

You focused on the important things instead. Didn’t really care to acknowledge Joe’s apology.

“Well,” Joe tried to hide his smile as he looked down at his feet before stepping aside and holding an arm out, inviting you to walk ahead of him, making your way back into the living area. “I think there’s a few to choose from in the freezer.”

You’d shared a pizza that morning, you sat at one of the stools of the kitchen island, and Joe stood on the side. He hadn’t asked you any questions then, but instead had just tried his hand at light conversation until suddenly, halfway through a slice, you’d started sobbing.

And it wasn’t like you and Joe had never hugged before.

But you’d never been hugged by him like that before.

Where Joe instantly dropped his food and stepped closer to fold arms around you. Where Joe got an arm around your head to press your face into his chest whilst the other curled down around your shoulders that pressed your chest into his stomach. Where he decided he wasn’t going to be the one to pull back first, and so you’d just embraced like that for over half an hour.

He hadn’t asked you any questions.

Not when you cried.

Not when you’d stuttered through breaths as you tried to recollect yourself after.

Not when you eventually pulled back and reached for another bite of now-cold pizza.

Not when you then silently frowned at the hardened cheese and softly sighed to yourself.

Not when you did eventually retreat back into your room but came out just a minute later and asked if Joe had any plans that day.

Even if he did have plans, Joe knew that he’d cancel them all for you.

“Want to rot on the sofa with me? Watch films all day?”

And you hadn’t meant to fall asleep all sagged into his side then, but you had. And Joe had played with the ends of your hair until the warmth and comfort had pulled him into a nap as well.

You’d never talked about what had happened then, why you had been so sad, because you didn’t need to. It was nice that Joe hadn’t asked for you to explain why you’d cried, and instead had just comforted you until you managed to smile for him again.

Joe thought that maybe, if you wanted to tell him, one day you would. But he didn’t need to know why his flatmate was sad when she was. He was happy just being there to help and fix it.

And now, here you were. Two flatmates who shared a tradition of having pizza and watching a film when you’d had a bad day.

And today had just been... long. Hard. Frustrating. You didn’t want to get into all the things that had nearly pushed you over the edge, and you were glad that you didn’t need to.

Joe didn’t ask questions. Never did.

Just went to get you the peperoni pizza you’d asked for.

Would cuddle you on the sofa all night if that was what you wanted.

It was what he wanted, anyway.

He was well aware that none of that was normal though.

You were flatmates.

If Joe referred to you in conversation with a friend, with a family member, or even with a stranger, you were his flatmate. The girl that he shared the living area of his flat with. The pantry, the fridge and the freezer. The coat closet by the door. A letterbox downstairs by the entrance.

Flatmates.

But if someone were to ask you if you and your flatmate were friends too, you’d tell them yes of course. You shared dinner more often than not. If you had friends ‘round, Joe would hang out too. And vice versa.

Normal.

Just normal friendly flatmates that also knew each other’s parents by their first names, but you know, those things sort of just came with sharing a living space together, right?

And no one ever really thought there was more to you and Joe, anyway.

Why would they even assume?

You dated other people. Went on regular dates with different men. Other guys. Would even sometimes sit and watch a film with someone, and Joe would join you for a little while. Have casual conversation with whoever you’d invited over.

Normal.

What wasn’t so normal was that the second it would just be you and Joe, you wouldn’t hesitate to touch if you wanted to touch. Wouldn’t hesitate to find him, wherever he’d be, and sling your arms around his stomach from behind, just to hold him for a minute. Would wait to get comfortable on the sofa until Joe would join you there and you’d wait for his arm to find its way around you before you’d settle in.

You never talked about it.

It was just what it was like. You were close. The affection was just a natural thing between the two of you. It didn’t need any words. Any explaining.

But Joe knew you both understood that this could be interpreted very differently through other people’s eyes.

It’s why you kept referring to each other as flatmates, and why you weren’t like that in front of other people.

Which was fine.

You lived together.

There was plenty of time without other people there.

When you walked into your flat that evening, the promise of a shared peperoni pizza combined with the contrasting warmth that immediately made you feel uncomfortably hot in your coat, was nearly enough to bring you to tears.

“Joe?”

“Hey, bad news,”

Oh no.

Joe appeared at the other end of the hallway.

“They didn’t have any Sprite left, so I got you a Fanta.”

You let your shoulders drop and let your head fall to the side in relief. That was hardly bad news. You didn’t love Fanta, but the bad news revealed Joe had gone out to get a pizza instead of throwing a frozen one into the oven.

“Fanta’s fine.” You smiled. Joe easily copied it.

“Good, okay. Now,” Joe continued, suddenly his face all serious again as you took your coat off and toed your shoes off. “I know that last time, I got to pick a film, so technically it is your turn... but, I’ve already chosen something to watch, and I did go out to get us the largest peperoni pizza London has to offer, so...”

You stilled and gave an exaggerated sigh, all mock frustration, because you honestly didn’t give a shit. If anything, it was nice that Joe had made the choice for you, seeing as you didn’t really have the mental capacity for any decisions right now. If it had been left up to you, you’d hav been scrolling through Netflix for at least half an hour until settling just to watch some celebrity panel shows on Channel 4.

“No sprite and I don’t get to choose the film?”

“I’m sorry,” Joe was trying stupidly hard to hide a smile.

You blinked at him a second.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No I’m not. You made me go out and it’s fucking freezing outside today.”

You made your way over to your bedroom to get changed, and just before disappearing, you said, “Cool way of letting me know you’ve not left the flat all day.”

Like Joe’s hair hadn’t told you as much already.

You wished your job would let you work from home too. Although, with Joe spending weird stretches of time just sitting around and reading, you didn’t think you’d get much work done. Would probably be a bit weird if you logged onto a zoom meeting from your spot on the sofa, half of Joe in frame.

“I did leave the flat! I just said!” Joe argued, leaving you to get into a more comfortable outfit.

You grinned to yourself.

Joe was an idiot.

In an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of joggers, you joined Joe in the living room where you found a large pizza box on the coffee table, two cans of Sprite next to it.

Sprite.

“Surprise.”

Joe had lied.

Then you looked at the TV screen, paused at the title of the film Joe’d chosen and, fuck all the way off, did he want you to cry?

“I know it’s not your genre...”

It was. It absolutely was. It wasn’t Joe’s genre, though. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hook an elbow to his jaw or squeeze your nails into his cheeks, but you needed to do something to get this surge of emotion out.

You opted for swearing at him instead of physical violence.

“I fucking hate you so much right now,”

“Yea?” Joe sat down, pressing play on the remote and reaching for the throw blanket. “Come hate me over here.”

And so you did.

Sat down next to Joe, thigh to thigh, and let him sort the blanket so it covered the both of you before leaning over to grab the pizza box.

The heat coming from the pizza quickly found your legs through the blanket and through your joggers. It was a stark comparison to how cold your fingers still felt from your trek home.

You rubbed them together as Joe opened the pizza box and, shit, that looked good.

“You cold?”

“Just my fingers,” you replied, already putting both hands to use, ripping the pieces of crust that hadn’t been cut properly and lifting a slice out of the box.

Joe did the same, and then when he saw one of your hands lower down, he was quick to grab it, encasing your cold fingers into his large palm.

The act of being upset with him for being nice faltered, and you smiled at Joe as he smugly grinned whilst he chewed.

See, had someone else been there with you, you’d have gotten comments. If not jokes, at least you knew you would’ve gotten some judging looks. Some questions later, about what was going on between the two of you?

Nothing was going on between the two of you.

Just warm cuddles and comforting touches, which was fine when it was just you and Joe.

So what if Joe held your hand whilst you ate pizza and watched a romantic comedy together?

So what if a piece of peperoni was about to slide and fall to your chest, but Joe saw and got it just in time, and you thought he was going to pop it into his own mouth, but then instead he held it up in front of you and waited till you ate it from his fingers?

So what if, after finishing the pizza, Joe planted his feet on the coffee table and pulled you into his side a little? Grabbed your arm to lay over his stomach? Ended up with both arms slung around, his own fingers locking on your back to keep you in place whilst you watched actors older than the both of you act as if they were in their early twenties still?

Life was just more comfortable when it was filled with good snuggles, you and Joe both agreed.

But you never talked about it.

You were just close.

No questions asked.

Flatmates. Friends. Just, close.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[killerlookz]

Have You Seen Her Lately? | Joost Klein - Heartbeat! AU

yet another prequel in the heartbeat! au, meant to take place a few days after it can't be that easy (should be read after that part!)

description: joost klein x f! reader- after a messy drunk encounter with Joost and his new girlfriend has left you more heartbroken than you thought was ever possible, a spontaneous text from Joost has you wondering if anything will ever truly be over between you two. | inspired by have you seen her lately by pulp (aka the greatest song of all time i swear)

content: 18+ sexual content, dry humping, angst, hurt/some comfort, cheating, toxic relationship, honestly both reader and joost are kind of the worst in this one (which is why they're made for each other), not proofread

THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH, IF YOU ARE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT!

word count: ~7.5k

"So you didn't…" Julie trails off, settling into the back of your sofa, raising an eyebrow as she lifts a flute of cheap Prosecco to her lips.

"Didn't?" You furrow your eyebrows, cocking your head, "Oh god, have sex? No we didn't!"

"Good." She smacks her lips, nodding as swallows down the bubbly liquid. "Did you want to?"

"I don't know…" you think, trying to recall that treacherous night, "I guess I did."

"Wrong answer." Julie shakes her head in clear disappointment.

"Well, I didn't really… I don't know, I was drunk, with a sprained ankle, I don't think it would have been enjoyable anyways."

"Well." Julie pauses, "Even if he didn't try to sleep with you, he's still a dog. I mean, brings his new girlfriend around you and sprains your ankle in the same night, what an asshole!"

"I mean, I guess the ankle thing is sorta both our faults"

"Uh uh" Julie takes another sip from the nearly empty glass, "Nothing is ever your fault, babe. Learn to blame everything on Joost, trust, you'll get over him like that!" She snaps her fingers.

"Well the girlfriend thing is definitely his fault." You concede.

"Did he tell you anything about her?" She perks up, suddenly interested in the potential gossip, "Have you found her instagram? Can I see it? I bet its awful!"

"It didn't come up." You shrug, "I guess your new girlfriend isn't really polite conversation when your ex girlfriend is sitting in your lap."

"I guess not." Julie places the now empty glass onto your coffee table, "Well, now that you got whatever that was out of your system… things really are done right… like really?" Her stare is intense as she asks. You feel almost as if you're on trial, the prosecutor grilling into you, and your life is on the line.

Wow it is not that serious. You try to tell yourself, but you value Julie's opinion, and above all you're embarrassed. The shame eating away at you about how easy it was to fall right back in Joost's arms even after you ended things. Pathetic wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt.

"Right right." You nod fervently, unsure of who you're trying to convince more, her or yourself. "I didn't even mean for whatever that was to happen, just drunk and stupid. It's over."

"Thank god! I mean I love Joost like a brother but…" She rolls her eyes, "I just- I can't! I can't with him right now."

You take a hard look at Julie, noting the lines in her forehead as her eyebrows furrow, the scowl on her face, she really is mad at him, he didn't even do anything to her, why aren't you mad like that? Why can't you be mad like that?

"And you!" Her face softens, "I love you! I love you way more, but please, please promise me you won't entertain this anymore."

"I promise." Your stomach churns as a sheepish grin twits its way onto your lips. You feel as if you've just made a deal with the devil, a promise you can never take back. Betraying your best friend for a boy? That's low.

"Good." Julie pauses to look down at her phone, "Oh well shit!" She sits stiff, straight up, "Didn't notice the time, fuck, I was supposed to meet Anton, for dinner tonight. He said it's important!" She sighs, "I gotta motor, are you gonna be okay, girl? I'm sure he'd understand if I cancel-"

"No, no." You shake your head, "Go! Have fun." You attempt to keep the smile on your face, like it doesn't kill you to know she'll be off having the time of her life with the love of her life, while you're stuck here, heartbreak making you an immovable object on this couch.

That was what frustrated you anyways about your conversations with Julie about your relationship predicament. Her and Anton had been together since they were 15. When she had told you as much the first time you met him you almost couldn't believe it. It all sounded so absurd, being together, with someone, for seven years? Let alone someone you met as a teenager. You could only wish for as much for yourself.

"Ugh, you're the best!" Julie hops off the couch, shimmying over to you, "Remember, Do not text him!"

"I won't." You shake your head, "Swear!" You were only digging yourself deeper.

"Good, Okay I really gotta run, love you!" Julie bends down to place a quick, entirely platonic kiss to your cheek before scurrying out of your apartment before you can even get a word in.

You watch as the apartment door slams shut, leaving you once again in your solitude, the bars on your self inflicted prison cell locked once more.

You should go out. Put on a skimpy little outfit and get free drinks at the bar all night. Go home with an absolute dime piece and try your best to forget about Joost for tonight.

It's tempting, but you know it won't work. You'll try to find him in every man you meet, becoming so frustrated with conversation you can barely listen when they aren't just like him

Part of you had hoped that that night, just a few days ago, when Joost had taken you home upon deciding you were too drunk to be by yourself, you'd be able to remedy the terrible mistake you had made by ever breaking things off with Joost. Of course things were far far from perfect when you were together, but that night, sitting on his lap while you sobbed into his shoulder, even as miserable as you were it was so much more bearable when he was around.

You weren't quite happy either way, what was the point of being unhappy and alone?

Of course, you knew deep down you couldn't go back, couldn't un-break what you had broken. Nothing had been resolved that night. Joost had been kind enough to lay in bed with you until you fell back asleep, a gentle hand on your back was all. You didn't know how long he had really stayed with you that night, but you were certain that he had gone back to the couch almost as soon as you had fallen asleep, as you awoke to an empty bed. A familiar sight these days.

Joost had retained his offer of taking you to urgent care the morning after to get your ankle checked, but you knew a sprain when you felt one- the nausea bubbling in your stomach only added to the agony, not wanting Joost to see you an an even worse state than the one you had been in last night, you just wanted to flee his apartment as fast as you possibly could.

Joost didn't even try to push to get you to stay, or at the very least get your ankle checked, he had just accepted that you wanted to leave with a smile, hugging you goodbye like you were just one of his "boys" complete with a firm tap to your back, it had been nothing like you were used to. "Stay well, okay?" He said as you had exited the building, ready to limp down to the uber that had been waiting outside for you.

Much to your dismay it seemed he was not in the mood for remedying things as you were, he had just been being nice.

You look over at your phone, facing up on the coffee table, uncomfortably void of notifications.

You contemplate picking it up, just getting it over with, texting Joost- what was the worst that could happen? He doesn't respond? It isn't like you aren't already certain you won't be seeing him again.

The temptation looms over you, putting you in a hypnotic state, weak to any form of suggestion. You feel your body slowly pulling forward, like you have no control of yourself, at the mercy of your desperation.

Just as your hand begins to raise, you catch yourself, blinking a few times, what are you crazy?

Stiff, you fall against the back of your couch, and sigh of exasperation leaving your lips. You supposed it was probably another night of takeout and doomscrolling, truly a match made in heaven. Or, more likely hell.

You stare at your phone for a few moments longer, unmoving, unsure of how many more nights like this you could take before you truly went insane.

So lost in your own self pity it almost startles you, even in the warm orange light that bathes your apartment in the final moments of sunlight of the day, the way your phone suddenly glows. It's not something you're used to, having almost entirely shut yourself in since your breakup with Joost.

You sit up, and you can't help but to feel a deep sense of embarrassment at how excited a small little notification has you. It used to be that a day couldn't go by where you didn't feel like you had a million plans, every waking second consumed by the presence of your friends. Now here you were, unable to contain your excitement over one measly notification as you lunge forward to grab your phone. Knowing full well it could be nothing.

But it wasn't nothing.

Nowhere close.

The capital letters of the contact name scream at you: DO NOT TEXT!!!!

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Joost.

Unable to see the message until you unlock your phone, your heart races, anticipation coursing through your veins, nerves trembling as you hold your phone in your shaky hands. What could he possibly want? It feels as if your stomach has fallen straight out of you, the sharp pangs of anxiety making you feel somehow both hollow and heavy.

You tuck your bottom lip behind your front teeth. The floorboards creek beneath you with each rapid tap of your foot.

-hoi! just checking to make sure ur ankle is all guud :)

How endearingly informal. Although you would have much preferred a long, drawn out confession about him still being in love with you, how he will never get over you, begging you to give him a second chance. But you guess you'll take whatever you can get.

Your fingers are almost too fast for your brain, racing to give Joost a response while he's most likely still on the phone.

better! thanks for ask- You can only get so far before you remember your promise to Julie. Not even an hour ago swearing that you and Joost were over, and that you most certainly would not text him. That was much easier said than done when you were under the impression he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

You're back to staring at your phone, unsure of your next move. Are you really ready to cut things off completely? To never see him again.

But then again do you have to be ready? How often are you truly ready for things before you do them. Almost never, you suppose, but its probably high time that things end here, before they become an even bigger disaster than they already were.

Well, that's no fun.

better! thanks for asking, can finally walk on it now.

You wait eagerly for a response, hoping the adrenaline of purely just getting to talk to Joost is enough to ward of the impending feeling of regret and shame that will inevitably come with not only lying to your best friend, but not even pretending you had the strength to cut Joost off in the first place.

-good :) sorry abt that again

A moment later, another text

-BTW was supposed to get drinks w bruno tn at that bar by ur place, but he cancelled last min, im near u wanna do smthn tn?

A tempting offer.

Your chest thumps, as you anxiously hover your thumbs over the screen, spinning them in small circles as you search for the right words to say. You know you shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't.

But how could you not?

You try your best to seem nonchalant, attempting to not give away the fact that this is really all you had been hoping for the last few days.

do what?

-im almost at the bar now. u wanna come around?

Alcohol and Joost were never a great mix, but you just could not turn him down, despite the glaring alarm bells going off in your head.

sure. can be there round 8, that work?

-perfect :)

***

You aren't as nervous as you expect to be as you approach the bar, perfectly primed for the occasion by having finished off the bottle of Prosecco Julie had brought over earlier while you touched up your makeup.

The building is dark, still early in the night there are people scattered here and there but not a big crowd. Evidently it isn't hard to find Joost, you could spot that mop of blonde hair from a mile away. He's alone, leaned up against the bar, pint glass fit snuggly in his hand, scanning the place, in search of you, you suppose.

Staring straight in his direction it doesn't take long for his eyes to meet yours. A soft smile appearing on his face once his gaze locks onto you, his free hand lifting up to wave you over. You return a polite smile, unsure of what Joost's true motives were behind inviting you out, that polite smile is all you can muster for now.

"Long time no see." The smile lingers on Joost's face as he greets you.

"Well if a week is a long time…"

"Too long to go without seeing you." He chuckles, its sweet, and you can't help but wonder if he's already wasted or if he's really attempting to flirt with you. The smile on his face turns sheepish, and suddenly he's the shy boy he once was when you first met him- taking you back to better times. It somehow quells your nerves, this doesn't need to be as awkward as you have the tendency to make things.

"Did your hair somehow get longer since the last time I saw you?" You reach a hand up to brush the messy strands of blonde out of his face, immediately going for some form of physical contact to put out some feelers for how tonight might go. When Joost doesn't move away you're certain you can put the moves on a little harder, maybe your dreams of somehow reconciling were not so far out of reach.

Its a move you've done time and time again, you almost forget how intimate it is, staring deep into Joost's eyes, strikingly blue, impossible to not be mesmerized by. Seemingly caught off-guard by how attractive you find Joost to be, despite your knowledge on the intricacies of his appearances, you resist the urge to let an I love you roll off the tongue, just as it had so casually many times before as your fingers brush against his blonde locks.

"I know I know," He laughs, "I need a haircut."

"No," You shake your head, "The messy hair suits you." You finally let your hand rest back down at your side.

"Well how can I ever cut my hair now?"

*** It somehow felt as if you and Joost were complete strangers, having a drunken meet-cute as you get to know each other for the very first time, yet simultaneously the night was drenched in nostalgia, the bittersweet of better days looming over each of you. Everything and nothing had changed, attempting to reconcile the breakup of a whirlwind relationship with the niceties of tonight seemed impossible.

There was some trepidation about what was to come next, yet there seemed to be somewhat of an understanding between the two of you about how this night would end. Joost's eyes constantly straying from your gaze to stare at your lips as you talked, you throwing your head back and laughing a little too hard at things that weren't really all that funny, your hands occasionally brushing over his shoulder or outer arm.

It hardly startled you when Joost, who had approached you from behind after returning from the bar, leaned over, his lips dangerously close to your neck as he talked in your ear to be heard over the chatter and music of the now crowded venue,

"How bout I finish this and we head home, hm?" His voice is low, not loud enough to hurt your ears from his proximity to you. His breath tickles your neck, causing you to shiver slightly, goosebumps forming on your skin. Head home.

"Mmm" You hum, pursing your lips, "Yeah sure," You turn your head, a slight smirk tugging at your lips, as you look behind you, Joost still very much intruding on your personal space. Of course, you don't mind much.

You've never quite seen someone finish a beer so fast in your life, but by now the tension of the night is wearing heavy on the both of you and you're racing to get back to your apartment so you can finally break it.

"Shit." Your keys fall from a shaky hand as you attempt to open your front door. The intoxication and anticipation clearly making a mess of your motor skills. They hit the ground with an irritating sharp jingle, and you lean over to pick them up, accidentally bumping Joost who stands behind you as you bend down.

"Wo-hoa save that for inside," He chuckles,

"Oh shut up." You scoff, but its all very lighthearted, and a much needed confirmation of what was to come.

Finally, you manage to shove your keys into the lock, nearly falling into your apartment as you open the door.

Joost follows closely behind, closing the door behind him with a thud.

"So…" He starts, suddenly freezing up like you hadn't done this a million times before, his eyes shifting around the apartment.

"So what, turning shy on me now?" You bite the inside of your cheeks as you attempt to meet his shifting gaze, was he having second thoughts.

"N-no I- no I just haven't been here in awhile," He blinks a few times, clearly trying to push away whatever it was that he was feeling.

"Oh," You furrow your eyebrows, looking down at the floor, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Sorry," He chuckles, "Did I kill the mood?"

A smirk suddenly appearing on your face as you look back up at Joost,

"Not at all."

"Good," He smiles back, finally stepping fully into the apartment, "Where were we…"

"I think…" You start, cheeks getting hot, thinking about what was to come, you can hardly make eye contact with Joost now, maybe you were the one getting shy.

Too lost in your brief fantasies about where things would go next, you'd hardly realized how close Joost had gotten to you, too fingers pressing under your chin, beckoning you to look up at him.

"Here?" He asks, hovering over you, his lips just barely about to graze yours.

"Yes here."

It isn't long before he's kissing you, really kissing you, not those short, pity shoulder kisses he had been giving you as you cried to him the other night. This was deep, hot, romantic even? Any moment now you were certain you'd be waking up, that this was nothing but a dream to be ripped away from you right as you got to the best part.

But it continued, low hums of content vibrate through the kiss. You can't get enough, lifting yourself up on your tip-toes to shove yourself further into the kiss, feeling your movements beginning to get sloppy as the two of you are finally overcome with pure, carnal desire.

Your legs wobble from your position on your toes, and Joost's hands come to your back to keep you stable. His touch so familiar, his hands knowing your flesh even better than you knew yourself.

"I've got you." He mumbles.

You were so easy, three simple words of reassurance driving you insane. But as strong as his grip on you is, your calves strain trying to keep to his height, and you're more than certain this position isn't great for him either.

You pull away, "Couch?" Voice slightly horse.

Joost leans back, and you finally plant your heels on the floor,

"Ja, ja, lets."

Your fingers graze Joost's tattooed knuckles, intertwining with his, tugging harshly as you rush to pull him over to the couch, eager to get your lips back on his.

"H-hey, I'm not going anywhere" He laughs.

"Am I moving too fast?" You stop dead in your tracks, worrying you're taking things too far too quickly.

"We'll move as fast as you want," An earnest smile on Joost's face as he closes the arm length distance between the two of you, your fingers still interlocked with his.

"Like the sound of that." Your voice barely a mumble.

You're nearly pushing Joost onto the couch, but he seems just as, if not more eager than you as he grabs you by your wrists, pulling you down to sit on his lap. The fabric of his jeans is rough beneath your skin, your skirt rolling up as you straddle Joost's waist, exposing bare thighs. Joost wastes no time getting his hands on you, his fingers trailing up the flesh now visible by your bunched up skirt. It's hard not to let out an immediate moan as the pads of Joost's fingers dig into the supple skin of your thighs, its been so long since you've been touched at all, much less touched like this.

You feel your muscles tense, flexing as you push yourself forward into Joost, almost involuntarily, your most primal urges taking control of you in order to get exactly what you want. You place a hand on Joost's chest, stabilizing yourself as you lean forward to let your lips meet his once again.

Joost's hands leave your thighs, now firmly placed around your waist, holding you to him, any movement of your hips at mercy to his grasp. You waste no time with polite pecks to Joost's lips, instead, immediately resuming to hot, wet, open mouth kisses.

It feels lethally hot in your small living room, and you almost can't wait to shed some of your clothes off. Of course, however, the anticipation of good sex was almost as enjoyable as the real thing and it was not worth rushing the passion of a moment like this.

You arch your back, digging your hips into Joost's, feeling the large metallic buckle on his belt dig into your lower stomach. You gasp slightly, savoring the friction from the rough seam of his jeans below the thin lace of your panties. You let your hand trail from Joost's chest to the back of his neck, pressing your palm into him as you do so, to really feel him under you. You wrap your other arm around his neck so you can fully embrace him, wanting to close every gap between the two of you.

As Joost's palms dig into your sides he drags your hips backwards, once again making you aware of the friction you so desperately need. By now it's obvious that Joost is growing hard beneath you, the already sturdy fabric of his jeans growing stiffer as he once again guides your hips forward.

"Don't be shy," Joost mumbles, tilting his head back ever so slightly to pull back from the kiss so he can get a word in, "Move those hips."

Which is what you would do if it wasn't for the sound of Joost's ringtone suddenly interrupting the moment. You sit up, Joost's grip on you suddenly becoming weak, and then non existent as he awkwardly shuffles with you still on top of him to take his phone from his back pocket.

You watch Joost's face, you ponder if he was really going to take a call at a time like this,

"Shit, shit. I'm sorry," He fumbles with the phone in his hands, his face twitches once the screen glows in his face, eyelids blinking rapidly, "Sorry," He chuckles, before a sigh falls from his lips as he quickly silences his phone, placing it face down on the couch.

"No its-" You cut yourself off, eyes trailing over to where he had put his phone down before whipping your head back to look at him, "Was that important? Who was it?"

"No, nothing. Don't worry about it, pretty, come here." A smirk pressed to his lips as his hands find their way back to your hips, ready to return back to your previous activities.

You let the slight interruption go, just as eager to move things along that you don't care to press about his social life.

You don't meet Joost's lips this time as you lean forward, instead pressing languid kisses to his jaw. Theres a slight stubble on his chin, tickling you as you nuzzle against him.

You continue your kisses, egged on by Joost's heavy breathing, the way his chest rises and falls below you mixed with the sparse groans you illicit from him as you lick over the right spots. Joost seems almost desperate to feel you against him once more, strong hands nearly forcing you back against the bulge in his jeans. Of course you can't complain, the now slick fabric of your panties separating him from your clit so flimsy you're sure you're getting much more pleasure from this than he possibly could be.

"God," You groan, rocking forward, your fingers gripping at the hair that falls at the back of his neck. You dip lower, your tongue licking a stripe up the throbbing artery in his neck, tasting his skin. You attach your lips to the pulse point, placing a small kiss to his flesh before opening your mouth wider, a sloppier kiss now before pressing your teeth to the fluttering vein, hollowing your cheeks to suck at the skin.

You feel Joost's hands suddenly grip into your arms, firm, pushing back, practically ripping you from your spot against him,

"Woah, kijk uit," (watch it) He attempts to laugh but there's a genuine concern in his voice.

Your eyes widen, like a deer in headlights what did you do?

"Huh," You breathe out, clearly bewildered, your eyes roam his figure, what did you do? You think for a moment, as Joost's hands finally loosen on you, dropping to his sides,

"I'm sorry- just,-"

"Oh my god," You feel your heart drop down to your stomach, any arousal immediately leaving your body, he was worried you'd leave a mark, "It was her that called wasn't it?" Accusation rich in your voice as you stare deep into his eyes.

"What?" Joost furrows his eyebrow, his voice stepping up a few pitches, you can't tell if he's genuinely confused or if he's attempting to feign innocence.

"Your girlfriend, you dog!" You climb off of Joost, your backside hitting the couch much harder than you had intended. It was funny, Lina hadn't even crossed your mind, Joost had been putting on the moves almost the second you two locked eyes tonight, perhaps you figured that sometime between now and the last time you saw him they had broken up.

As horribly as you had wanted him, you never really meant any of that stuff you had said to Julie the other night about wanting to homewreck a relationship. It wasn't fair, as much resentment as you held towards Lina, you don't think you could really go through with this knowing there was another girl in the picture. All you could think, what if Joost had done that to you?

"Was it?!" You ask again, harsher now, practically begging for the confirmation.

Joost can hardly make eye contact with you now, barely raising his head, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Yeah- I-"

"You what, Joost? At what point were you going to tell me that you were using me to cheat on your girlfriend?" Any intimacy that had preceded this moment was lost, it all feeling like a complete lie now. Here you were thinking that perhaps this was finally a chance for you to right your wrongs, to make things work with Joost- when apparently he was searching for nothing of the sort.

"Using? I wasn't- I thought you knew?" He seems just as confused as you are, like you should just find this no big deal, "I thought you wanted this?" And the thing is, he's right, you wanted this. Maybe it was your bad for assuming that by attempting to hook up with you Joost was confirming that what he had with Lina was over. How could you have known?

"Being the other woman, is not what I wanted." You cross your arms, and bring your knees to your chest, wanting to just curl up and die right here on the couch.

"It that what you think you'll be?" Joost asks, the confusion draining from his voice, truly just asking now.

"What else do you call the woman you hook up with outside your relationship?" You turn to face away from Joost, closing yourself off from him.

"You're not- fuck" You can't see his body language as you stare at the wall now, your mind reeling, just trying to process all of this- any hope of you and Joost getting better now completely ripped from you, but you can hear the nerves in his voice, unable to tell if they're coming from genuine regret or solely because he got caught.

You bite your lip, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over your waterline, eyelids fluttering rapidly to try to suppress the small droplets from cascading down your face.

"I just- I thought-" You inhale, feeling yourself about to cry, exhale, "I thought you wanted to see me because you missed me."

"Please-" He pauses, voice strained, "I didn't mean to mislead you, you saw us together."

"God, Joost, why would I have assumed you two were still together after you kissed me." It seemed so simple to you, "Why would I have ever assumed you to be some sort of cheater?"

The room is silent for a moment, save from you sniffling, still attempting to stifle a sob, not ready to cry in front of Joost again.

"I just, I guess, didn't expect you to think anything highly of me." You hear him breathe in deeply, "Het spijt me, you seemed so upset the other night because of me, so I just, I wanted to make you feel better."

You blink a few times, still refusing to turn your heard towards Joost, you can't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"By making me a one-night stand?" You furrow your eyebrows, voice becoming accusatory.

"No- god, nonono, I wasn't even planning on that, I just wanted to catch up, but then, you seemed like you wanted to… so then I wanted to… and I wasn't even thinking I just, I let it happen." Joost's words are rushed, jumbled, like each syllable, each sound is racing out of his mouth.

"That's the problem," You huff, "Isn't it, Joost, you don't think."

"I just never know what you want." He stops for a moment, "I mean- I think I know and I do it, and I am always wrong."

"So this is my fault…" You trail off, confused at what he's attempting to get at, "You thought I wanted you to cheat on Lina with me? That's why you did it. Thought I'd get some satisfaction from that?"

"This wasn't about her, it was for you, I wanted to see you. I didn't leave my apartment with the intent to do that tonight, but what I told you was true, Bruno cancelled, when I realized I was in the area, I had to at least try to see you."

"But it is about her Joost, you cheated, you were going to cheat, it was so easy for you, and I just can't stop thinking, what if you had did it to me?" A tear finally rolls down you cheek, unable to convince yourself any longer of Joost's presumed innocence. Had Joost ever "not thought" when it had come to you? Just let it slip his mind that he had someone waiting up for him, and got into bed with another woman.

"No, don't say that," He sounds defeated now, "I couldn't do that to you, I thought I was going to marry you, how could I do that to you?"

"But you could do this." You try to maintain your demeanor, not wanting to give into Joost's words of reassurance, giving into the cycle that had ruined your relationship to begin with, perhaps there really was no saving it now. But it's hard not to fold, to be reminded of how much you meant, or do mean to him.

"I swear-" He pleads, "I'll call her, I'll break it off, please if it just gets you to look at me."

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek.

"No," you let your head hang, "No, no don't do that right now." You shake your head, unsure of where to go from here. You slowly uncross your arms, and finally turn to look at Joost, who seems visibly shaken, his chin quivers slightly, eyes blinking rapidly. He really did seem torn up about this.

You stare at each other in silence for a few moments, both of you hesitant to make the first move. You take in his appearance, timid, distraught, hardly the careless heartbreaker you had been making him out to be. Perhaps you had been wrong too, too quick to anger, too quick to conclusions, you're left stumped, trying to figure out what to make of all this, what to make of each other.

"Will this ever stop?" Your voice wavers, worried about the future for the two of you, worried that the only way to stop the arguing and toxicity between you is to never see each other again. No matter how hard each of you tried, it never seemed to work, your emotions too deep, too intense to ever think rationally when you were around each other.

Joost doesn't answer, and the room remains silent. It's not a comforting silence, no, it eats away at you, every second that passes consuming you with guilt and fear for the future, fear that this may once again be the last time you see Joost. You figured it would have to get to a point, you thought it already had after you had broken up with him. But that's why you broke up with him, knowing at least if you really wanted to you'd have some control over reaching out and talking to him again. If it had been Joost who ended things, who knows? Maybe he would have had a stronger will than you, maybe he wouldn't be so willing to have you around.

Finally Joost speaks,

"You know I love you, right? I mean, whatever happens next, I don't know- just, I love you."

You're nearly brought to tears again, and you wonder if its possible to love someone too much.

"I love you too." You blink away the tears from your eyes, sighing, "I'm so tired." You mean it in every sense of the word, you're drained, physically, mentally, fed up. But most literally you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

"Why don't you lay down?" Joost asks, scooting over on the couch to give you space, patting next to him.

"Yeah- yeah I should." You nod, slipping off your shoes before curling up in the couch. You're far from comfortable, still in your clothes from the bar, feeling forced to make yourself as small as possible to not take up Joost's space.

"You want to watch some TV?" He asks once more, hesitance in his voice, like he's unsure of his place now.

"Sure," Voice hoarse, "Put on whatever."

The light of the television sears your already stinging eyes, Joost flips through the channels until he finds something that vaguely peaks his interest, your mediocre Dutch making it so you only understood about half of what was being said. When you and Joost had been together, when you'd watch something in Dutch together, or his friends were having a conversation in Dutch in front of you Joost would always lean over to you when he noticed you seemed confused, quietly explaining in your ear what was going on or what was said. But perhaps sensing the mood, Joost made no effort to explain what was happening on the television now. Not that it mattered, feeling as if you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes open much earlier to pay attention anyways.

You squrim in your spot on the couch, unable to get comfortable in the clothes you're in, but unwilling to get up to change.

"Joo?" Your voice is small, quiet, peaking your up from its spot on the couch cushions.

"Ja?" He asks, turning his head towards you.

"Can I have your shirt?"

"The one I'm wearing?" He seems confused, but you simply nod, not in the mood for much speaking. "Sure, I guess." He shrugs before beginning to pull at the collar, lifting it over his head.

If you'd been less tired perhaps you'd spend more time musing at Joost's half naked body, the tattoos that litter his soft skin, just how inviting and at home he looks returning to his relaxed position on your couch.

"Alles goed?" He asks, handing you the plain white T-shirt he had been wearing. You hum in response, content as you sit up from your curled state.

Still sitting, you turn away from Joost, not that you really cared if he were to see you changing, and not like he couldn't see you now. But you assumed perhaps some modesty was needed in this very moment. You lift the shirt you had been wearing over your head, letting it drop to the floor, before discarding your bra in that same pile. You slip the shirt Joost had given you on, you inhale, smells like him. The familiar scent invades your senses, overwhelmed as if he wasn't sitting right next to you. Its reminiscent of the many of times you had found yourself with your face buried in Joost's neck or chest, nuzzling against him, taking in the smell of him, it was comforting, the reminder of the presence of someone you love dearly.

You shimmy out of your skirt, letting that too, fall to the ground before lifting your legs back onto the couch in an attempt to actually get comfortable this time around. You turn towards Joost, who, evidently had been staring at you this entire time.

"Watching me change?" A small giggle escaping your mouth, it was all you could really muster, "Pervert." You smirk

"Well I'll take your little smile as you don't want to kill me that much anymore." He jokes.

"Well," You sigh, "Yeah, you're lucky its hard to hate you when you're half undressed on my couch."

"Mhmm" Joost nods, "I do recall taking off our clothes is how we used to end most arguments." You know he just means to be funny as he says it, but it stings just a little, knowing your arguments were such a memorable part of your relationship.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. You lower yourself back to the couch, not trying as hard to squeeze yourself onto the opposite end, but you still give Joost his space, unsure of the etiquette for the moment.

You fixate your eyes back on the television, more so staring through it than actually look at it before your eyelids become to heavy for your to keep trying to keep them up, sleep quickly overtaking you.

***

You stir slightly, eyelids fluttering as you slowly slip back into consciousness. As your vision adjusts you find you're no longer on your couch, instead in your bedroom, laying in bed.

"Did I wake you?" You're startled by the sudden voice, forgetting Joost had been with you when you fell asleep. You notice he's standing at the end of the bed, comforter in his hands.

"I think so." You concede, voice groggy, unaware of how long you had been out.

"Sorry," He chuckles, "Thought the bed would probably be more comfortable for you."

"It's okay," You give a slight smile, appreciative of the small gesture.

"Do you want me to go?" He asks, as he pulls the comforter over your chest, tucking you in.

"Would you stay?" Your voice is meek, still uneasy about asking such a thing of a man who is technically in a relationship.

"Of course," He nods, smile on his face.

"Lay with me?" You pat the mattress next to you, forgoing your morals at least just for tonight, unsure, unwilling to wake up to an empty bed for another night. Joost nods, walking around to the other side of the bed. You roll over onto your side, watching his movements.

His belt clinks as he begins to undo the buckle before sliding the thick black leather out of the loops of his jeans. You continue to watch as Joost fumbled with the button of his jeans in the dark of your room, the glow of a crescent moon and warm orange street lamps the only light entering your windows. Joost slips his jeans down his thighs, kicking them off to the side as they hit his ankles.

Joost places two hands on the mattress, leaning over before he crawls into bed with you. It all feels so familiar, as if this was just another night you were spending together. But of course, you know its not, the constant threat of how easily things crumbled between you two looming over you. You were sure Joost would return to Lina in the morning, perhaps doing some careful explaining as to why he had been ignoring her calls, after he realizes that this has all just been some great mistake but tonight, tonight he was yours.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before Joost reaches an arm out, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb,

"This is nice," He smiles, reaching his fingers to the back of your head, tangling them in your hair.

"I agree." closing your eyes as you enjoy the gentle massage of Joost's fingers against the back of your head for a moment before speaking again, "Would you hold me?"

"Yes," Joost's fingers slip from your hair, "Natuurlijk, (of course), come here." He holds out his arm, ready to embrace you.

You turn to your other side, so your back is to Joost's chest, he wraps a firm arm around your waist, making sure you're pulled against him tight, just as you wanted. His breath tickles your neck with each deep exhale, he seems tired too.

"Wish things could be just like this forever." Your voice is slow, low, just above a mumble, you're just thinking out loud.

"I know, I know" Joost coos, placing a quick kiss just behind your ear, "I'm so sorry, lief meisje." (sweet girl) giving no reassurance that they ever would be, just a concession that he too was mourning what could have been. You can't blame him for not giving you the assurance you desired, knowing how fast things went from bliss to disaster, but you could be glad that at the very least you and Joost seemed to be on the same page, that you still loved each other, that you still regret how things turned out. And that was good enough, for now.

"Please don't leave before morning," You plead softly, "I don't want to wake up alone again."

"I'll be right here, promise."

With that, you can truly relax into his touch, enjoying the gentle reassurance it gave you. Despite everything that has happened, and that may happen in the future, at least he was here now, what more could you really ask for? Tomorrow didn't matter quite yet, figuring you'd cross that bridge when you got there, but tonight, Joost is yours, and you can pretend as if nothing had ever changed, as if this was just another night shared between the two of you.

"Goodnight Joost." You sigh, nuzzling your cheek into the pillows, "Ik hou van jou." (I love you) a small, content smile pressed to your lips, remembering how much Joost had loved it when you, at least, attempted to speak Dutch with him, especially when it was something sweet. You hear Joost chuckle lowly before he speaks too,

"Goodnight, schat." He lifts his head slightly to press a kiss to your cheek, "Slaap lekker, ik hou ook van jou."

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part ii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: 2.7k words, written au, angst, mentions of alcohol

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

part i

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It’s been ten days. Ten days since you broke your one month streak. Ten days since you slept with your ex. Ten days of constantly oscillating between anger and sadness, of lying to your friends, and trying desperately not to let Carlos Sainz Jr. occupy your every thought.

At least it’s off-season, so the chances of accidentally coming across his face on social media or on billboards in town are a lot less high.

You’re meant to be over him. You were the one that broke up with him, after all. And yet, you can’t seem to get him out of your head.

“Oh come on,” your colleague nudges your shoulder, leaning in to make sure you can hear him. “I thought we would crush this quiz, but you’re not even paying attention!”

Slammers is loud on any given day, but it’s their monthly quiz night that really makes the whole place feel just a tad overcrowded. Normally, it’s something you look forward to, winding down from long office hours – and finally letting loose with colleagues.

Normally, you’re the first one to shout the right answers down the table to whoever’s in charge of writing them down.

Normally, you don’t mind the no-phone policy that lets you actually focus on spending time together, rather than sending off a final email or text.

This time around, you’re just trying your hardest to not zone out completely, give into the irritating urge to grab your phone and obsessively check it for messages, or – worst case scenario, cave and send a message yourself.

You can justify it, too. There’s the hoodie he’d left in your room, after all.

And your key. He still has your spare key.

It’s not because you miss him.

When your coworker pokes you again, you give him a half-hearted grin. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit distracted,” you apologise, making an effort to look over the answers that have been given so far. There’s quite a few items still left wide open, question marks crowding the margins.

“Well, we can’t have that. We kinda need your brainpower to win, as you can see,” he winks.

Wendy pipes up to defend you. “Don’t bother her Dean, she’s still recovering from a breakup. Takes about one-third of the time you were together, so she's got a couple months left to go.”

She means well, but it’s also an invitation for people to jump on the opportunity to talk to you about Carlos. You can’t help but internally roll your eyes when inevitably, someone indeed pipes up to ask for details. “What would really cheer me up is if we’d win this quiz and receive a,” you lean forward and squint your eyes to read the prizes listed on the screen up front. “A dinner voucher for Amù. Good food nurtures the soul, right?”

It’s a good restaurant. You’d been there twice with Carlos, once with his family in tow. That had been a good night. Until you’d gone and ruined it by freaking out afterwards. Everything had seemed a little too serious, his parents being a little too nice, and his sisters wanting to hang out with you. You hadn’t even said “I love you” to each other, and yet they were treating you as if you were already their daughter in law.

Carlos hadn’t understood your reaction, and had gotten upset over you not liking his family. It’d been one of many moments that had inevitably led to your decision to break things off.

Wendy smirks, then raises her eyebrows at the rest of the group. “You heard the woman – no to more personal questions, yes to more pub quiz questions please!”

You’re four drinks in now, and while the pub food has certainly helped stave off full intoxication, you’re definitely well on your way to being drunk. Add to that a pretty challenging quiz, and the zero-phone policy, and you actually were having a great time – finally feeling unburdened by confusion, guilt and lingering hurt.

Of course, it doesn’t last forever. When the last round of questions is announced, it’s clear that your blissful bubble of ignorance is about to burst. First, it’s the fact that the category is none other than Monaco itself. Immediately, you know that’s code for at least one Formula One reference.

Second, it’s the way in which Dean has apparently taken the news of you being single as a green light to getting very comfortable around you. His arm is draped around your chair, and every time you lean back a little, his fingers ghost across your skin.

You wish it wouldn’t be unwelcome. Dean’s hot, and maybe in another life, under different circumstances, you’d be flattered. As it stands, all it does is remind you of the fact that just ten days ago it was Carlos’ lips trailing down your shoulders and you still don't know how to feel about it.

Sighing, you lean forward again, trying to pay attention to the questions instead. Sure, your skin craves contact, but not at the cost of poor decision-making. You’ve done enough of that lately.

The quiz goes exactly as you’d expected, as your ears perk up at the next question. “What did the podium in Monaco look like for its iconic F1 race in 2024? Bonus points if you can name both the drivers and their constructors."

It’s impossible for everyone in Slammers to know that you’re right there – or to even be aware of the fact that you’d been dating a driver up until recently. Still, the question leaves you wanting to run and hide, and you cling to the numbing taste of alcohol on your tongue as you answer the question for your team. “Charles P1, Piastri P2, Carlos P3. Ferrari, McLaren, Ferrari."

At the time, it’d been so exciting. Two Ferraris on the podium, Carlos shifting up in the Driver’s Championship standings. You shiver at the memory of the epic celebration sex that had followed and – no.

You shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, you chastise yourself.

“Hmm. Shouldn’t be thinking about who, like what?” Dean murmurs in your ear, his hand sliding down your back to settle at your hip.

Embarrassed, you twist to look at him, effectively putting some space between the two of you. “Did I say that out loud?”

He nods, smiling as his gaze flickers down to your lips. “I’d be happy to take your mind off of whoever else you’re thinking of.”

You blink once, then twice, as you process what Dean’s offering. “That’s very kind of you. But I – need the bathroom,” you slide out of your seat and hurry away.

The sight that greets you in the bathroom mirror is not one that you recognise. Your skin’s flushed, and empty eyes stare back at you as you try to make sense of what had just happened.

Did Dean really try to come onto you? You sprinkle some cold water on your face, trying to bring some relief and ground yourself.

Maybe Carlos was right, when he said you were so difficult to read sometimes. You can't even read your own reflection.

How fucking infuriating.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Alarmed, you immediately shift your expression into something a little less fragile – shutters closing again as you paste a happy smile on your face and turn around.

It makes no sense whatsoever, but you find yourself hugging none other than Carlos’ youngest sister Ana just seconds later. “Que suerte!”

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hoping that it doesn’t come across as accusatory as it sounds in your head. Most importantly, you hope that she knows you’re no longer together with Carlos. That news should not be coming from you, and definitely not delivered in a random bathroom in Monaco’s decidedly not-finest establishment.  

“My boyfriend and I are visiting,” Ana starts, but her smile fades a little as she rolls her eyes. “But my brother’s been in a mood, so we’re out here while he gets to be miserable by himself tonight.”

Something about how at ease she seems, makes you all the more uneasy to hear whatever comes next. “How great that I run into you here! Of course, great minds think alike when it comes to escaping one of Carlos’ sulks.”

She definitely doesn’t know, you conclude, as you try not to think too much about the fact that he’s apparently miserable and alone. “It’s good to see you, I hope you’re well,” Ana continues blithely, and you’re torn between telling her the truth or revelling in the lie for a little longer.

“Yeah, I think so. Just out with colleagues now, we do our monthly pub quiz here,” you say, testing the waters a little bit. Maybe this is fine. Maybe pretending for a little bit won’t hurt at all.

Excitedly, Ana claps in her hands. “What’s your team name? Are you winning?”

“Smartinis. And I think we are – last question was about Formula 1, so,” you note with glee. Weirdly enough, there’s a lick of satisfaction that runs through you as Ana smiles at you widely. It’s a genuine smile. At least she doesn’t hate you. Yet.  

Maybe it’s the fact that she looks so similar to her brother, or it’s the alcohol that’s still coursing through your veins. But all of a sudden you feel a lot closer to crying than three seconds ago. The wave of emotion is only further accelerated by Ana’s smile falling from her face as she watches you get more and more upset.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Can I help?” Ana gasps, “did you and Carlos have a fight?”  

A miserable laugh bubbles up from the back of your throat, and the sheer concern in her brown eyes make it easy to decide between the truth and the alternative. “It’s fine,” you squeak. “My co-worker just came on to me, so I fled here to try and figure out how to navigate that. But I can’t even think straight, because I’m drunk and confused.”

It’s not something you’d ever hoped to discuss with Ana, of all people, and definitely not given your current state. She seems a little thrown at the mention of someone else being interested in you, but recovers quickly. “Tipaza, you didn’t do anything wrong - it is okay, no? He made you uncomfortable, that is not okay. But it’s stupid either way. Everyone knows the rules, you don’t date colleagues or exes. Que idiota.”

Who is the real idiot here, you wonder briefly. Had Dean made you uncomfortable? Sure, a little bit. But had you really not done anything wrong? Guilt pools in your stomach as you glance at her, and think of Carlos.

She doesn’t know.

Why did she not know, when Carlos is so close to his family?

“I guess it’s okay. He hasn’t crossed my boundaries, yet. Just hasn’t caught onto the fact that I’m not interested, I suppose. ‘m not ready,” you mutter the last bit. Ana doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m just tired and overwhelmed,” you tack on for good measure. “As soon as I know I’ve won this thing, I should probably just go home.”

Ana smiles at your renewed resolve, and squeezes your arm briefly. “Ah – of course my cuñis is just as competitive as my brother.” She pauses when her phone buzzes, and she glances down briefly before shooting you an apologetic smile. “We’re headed to the next pub. See you?”

She’s gone before you can properly respond, make up your mind about telling her you probably won’t ever see her again, or ask her what cuñis even means.

It’s probably just another nickname, you figure, then splash some more water on your face before making your way back to the table. The whole group is shouting, debating what the answer is to the last question of the night. “Monaco is French! So it must mean something in French,” one of your colleagues says. “No, it obviously comes from monarchy,” someone else argues. “Actually,” you start, and everyone turns to listen. “it comes from Mon Oikos, it’s Greek – Hercules passed through and a lone temple was built to honour him afterwards, as he’d turned away the old gods. It means single/lone house.”

As someone feverishly writes it down, just in time for the quizmaster to collect the team’s answer sheet, Wendy smiles at you. “Truthfully you’re the only Smartini in this entire team. When we win, you’re so getting that voucher, girl. Now go treat yourself to another drink!”

You laugh, and dutifully walk over to the bar to order another martini for the both of you. Maybe it’ll help drown out the lingering guilt towards Ana, or the rest of the night that still awaits you, you think wryly, as you back a shot.

When you return to your table, you make a quick pitstop to deliver Wendy’s drink to her, before realising there’s nowhere else to sit than your original seat next to Dean.

“Whether or not we get that voucher, I’d love to take you out sometimes,” he says, before you can even get a word in otherwise. Part of you admires him for being so bold, but another part is irritated at the presumptuous nature of his request, and the fact he cannot seem to read the room.

“Actually,” you turn to face him properly, shaking your head in an unspoken apology. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea. You’re one of my favorite coworkers, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m not – I’m not really into dating right now.”

He seems a little taken aback by your answer, and frowns. “I thought you and that driver were done?”

You shrug. “Doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into the next best thing.”

Dean’s smile returns at that. “I’m not really looking for that either. But I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with you. Alone. Casually. As your next best thing.”

It’s hard not to cringe, and you desperately want to look anywhere else. However, the liquid courage from earlier makes you stare straight at him as you shake your head once more. “I’m going to have to say no to that offer as well.”

He tries to smooth over the dejected look on his face when he realises you’re serious. “Alright, fine. Guess I misread things. You seemed chill this evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but he shrugs as his arm pulls away from your chair. “I mean, we were getting cosy. We’re both attractive, and for the first time in weeks you’re not distracted by this goddamn phone of yours.”

Where you’d previously been pretty hopeful that Dean would handle the rejection well, that changes in an instant. “What do you - why do you have my phone?” You ask sharply as soon as he slides it across the table towards you.

He shrugs. “It went off while you were in the bathroom, and I was closest to the basket. Had to make sure we wouldn’t be disqualified.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then look down at your screen. There’s two missed calls, and your stomach sinks when you see who they’re from.

“It seemed like you didn’t want to talk to the person who called you anyways,” he adds, as if it’s no big deal at all and he’s actually done you a favour.

Sure, you might have saved Carlos’ contact under “x do not interact x”, but it’s not up to anyone else to decline his calls. And most of all, that warning had been put in place mostly to keep you from reaching out. Not the other way around.  

“That still gives you no right to pick up my phone.”

Immediately, Dean backpedals, “I didn’t answer – just told him you were busy.”  

It only makes things worse.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath.

As much as you want Carlos to know you do not miss him, this isn't the way. Feeling queasy all of a sudden, dread settles into your gut as you read the text thread again and again.

She's busy.

Who is this?

Dean.

Why do you have Y/Ns phone?

Hello?

I’m coming to pick you up.

And then, on your third read through, a new text bubble appears. "Outside." “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

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Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated. part iii will hopefully be posted in the next five days again.

Update: part iii is available here now.

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 | pt.4 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,495.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself by asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you how much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[burn-before-reading]

blue is the colour of your eyes

joost klein x artist! reader

The overwhelming need to paint him. just fluff and rambling and being a nervous mess.

now has a prequel! read here

word count: 2.3k

a/n: supposed to be short blurb but it got away from me soooo anyway i haven’t tried to write anything in a hot second but Joost is inspiringggg so enjoy. Definitely wanna come back to this idea later possibly who knows. i don’t proofread anything btw so good luck

warnings: none except awkwardness, google translate Dutch, and a titanic reference.

RPF BELOW. PLEASE SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE. DONT REPOST TO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OKAY PLS AND THANK YOU

You can’t seem to stop staring at him today. Two hours of putting pencil to paper trying to come up with literally ANY other idea and now your left with a pages full of Joost doodles.

He, of course, has no clue. drawing on his ipad on the other side of the couch. a movie playing in the background as the two of your got engrossed in your own work. who knows what he was doodling.

You were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for a painting for a group show coming up. The theme was vague and open ended. Love, in every sense of the word. Platonic, romantic, the secret third kind you didn’t even wanna think about right now.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Love and staring at Joost. You two were friends. He just sees you as a friend. Purely platonic.

Turning the next page over you give yourself a fresh start and start working on a couple thumbnails for possible paintings. You start scribbling a figure in the center. moving quickly to the background you add scribbles of flowers and leaves. making a short list to the side of plants to study later: Daisies, Sage, tulips.

Satisfied enough with the first thumbnail you scribble a few more in different poses. hands folded in their lap, resting on a table, holding a cigarette….wait.

you go back to the last sketch and notice you added a bit more details than intended. chunky glasses and a sharp haircut. you look back up at your accidental muse. He is still engrossed in his own art, but you manage to catch his eye after a minute when he looks up from his work.

his eyes pierced into your soul in that moment and the painting flew together in your head. Splashes of yellow and orange contrasting with the green of the plants. And his eyes. bright blue.

Why are his eyes so blue…

“you good?” he asks.

you dont know how long you were staring at him before you submitted to your own subconscious desires. Pencil tapping repeatedly on your sketchbook you muster up the courage to ask,

“can I paint you?”

his mouth gaped open slightly as that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He straightens his posture and shifts slightly in his seat.

“like… now?”

“No not now.. I just keep getting stuck on this idea and,, can i?” you gesture to the space next to him and he shimmies over slightly to give you permission to move closer. Now sitting next to him, you lean your book over for him to see.

“I just keep thinking about this idea of someone in a boquet of flowers, or just surrounded by flowers, and I want it to feel warm. I would be looking off to the side, or maybe smoking, i don’t know yet, but around you I imagined some Tulips and maybe sage to contrast your hair and..” you stopped as you felt yourself rambling and you look up. Bright blue staring back at you, full attention, hanging on your every word.

Comforting, yet still intimidating. You feel yourself want to shrink back into your half of the couch. explaining your ideas and baring your soul to this creature next to you that stole your attention and won’t give it back. This Fae that you gave your name to and now your theirs. At his beck and call at 9am when he texts you to hang out all of a sudden, so you cancel your own plans. Fae with bright blue eyes. stupid blue eyes.

what shade of blue are they?

his face looked interested, but still confused and hesitant, so you start to backtrack.

“You don’t have to agree, it was just an idea I had..” your pencil nervously taps the edge of your paper again and you look down and away from his face.

tap tap tap tap tap tap

Joost grabs your hand to stop your nervous tick and you glance back at him.

“No i want to, but… do i have to be naked?” his question breaks the tension and you burst out laughing.

“No. what? No! why would you think that?” you ask. he laughs as well.

“Ive seen your other studies of people, I didn’t know if this was gonna be like that one scene in titanic or,”

“Titanic? no no, I just want it to be you. We can agree on an outfit later if you are down for it but I just want you to feel like yourself.” he smiled and from this close you could see and the beautiful little details of his face. crows feet, dimples, each individual eyelash. His perfect blue eyes.

———

the next week you met up again, but this time you had arranged your studio up so you could sketch and photograph your model as needed. You had gathered your other needed models, a bouquet or two of flowers you had spent the last few days over analysing and studying. pages and pages of flower studies to make sure you had all the right angles needed when it came to the final painting. This next step you were slightly dreading.

It much easier to draw something when its not starting straight back at you.

Joost showed up later that day wearing a white button up short sleeve shirt, a black tie, and his usual chunky frames. his hair not as neat as it usually was but styled to suit the overgrown mullet look he had been sporting lately. Yellow roots growing in. He had badgered you all week about what he needed to wear and even though you said you trusted his fashion choices to pick a suitable outfit he insisted on a guideline. So you gave him one.

“Well people usually get flowers on a date, right? so i dunno, what would you wear on a date?”

“ Have you gotten flowers on a date before?”

“well… no, but typically thats a thing sometimes. it seems nice.”

“… Is this a date?”

“…its a collaboration.”

You guided him over to the corner you had set up as the make shift backdrop for him to model in. An old love chair you thrifted years ago sitting on rolled out black paper for the backdrop. some flowers in a pile of the floor for you to mess with later.

He sits down on the chair as you gather your needed materials to sketch. larger pieces of paper, charcoal and an assortment of graphite, watercolour paints, and your camera for when he can’t sit still any longer.

“okay i think im all set. lemme know whenever you’re comfortable and we can start okay?”

“okay.. do I just stare at you or..” he fidgets with a ring on his finger.

“find something to focus on right behind me. and just try to sit naturally. I just want you to pose in a way that feels naturally.” you state and pick up a piece of charcoal and bring it up to the easel.

Posing came a little naturally to Joost. He had done plenty of photoshoots before but he felt 100% more nervous about this one. It was more personal, more intimate. He had never really watched you work before, fully in your element, and it was so fascinating to him. yet… boring. He wondered how rich people in the past could stand for so long to get their portrait done, it had been two minutes and he was dying of boredom. His only entertainment was stealing glances at you and the faint music in the background.

“Can I talk?” he asked, careful not to move he head as he glanced at you. he saw you nod in his peripheral vision.

“Yea that should be okay, Ill let you know if i need you to stop for a second.”

“So… do you have people model for you usually?”

“No not really. most times I paint from life outside or just have to look for references online. Ive drawn friends before, but never for a bug painting. This one needed to be more personal tho.”

“more personal? How-“

“Wait can you turn back?” He had moved his head towards you fully with that last question. throwing off the perfect angle you had for his hair. “Sorry I’ll answer in a second just tilt your head a little..” you gesture with your hands and he tries to go back into position, but its not the same. He is still looking at you, that perfect shade of blue haunting you, staring you down. you look at the first sketch you had and now it just feels boring. “Maybe lets try a different pose.” the pencil tapping starts again as you think.

“Sorry, did I mess it up?” he looks away from you and runs in hand through his hair, giving it a new look. It urks you how much can change in a person with just one moment. With one turn it feels like an entirely new image.

“You’re fine, I just want something more interesting. Maybe if your hands were… can I?” He nods and you walk over to analyse his pose at a closer distance. Wiping your hands on your pants to eliminate any charcoal and sweat, you carefully pose his arms to rest on the armrests. You step back, to view your work.

“You were saying, what is this for again?” he asks. You are too engrossed in your project at this point to feel embarrassed talking about it.

“A group show between me and some old college friends. Ive been struggling on something to pick for the theme and it finally came to me the other day.” You fidgit with his left arm, deciding if it should be resting under his chin or falling from the armrest into his lap. “I just want this to be perfect..”

“Whats the theme?” You look at his and feel your face grow a little hot with what the answer is.

“uhh,, flowers! thats what we’re missing!” you avoid the question by running to grab one the fresh boquetes you bought this morning.

“I think maybe if you just hold these then you can-“ you foots catches on a pencil that had fallen, sending you crashing down and into Joosts lap in the chair, where he catches your arms to help you regain balance.

“are you okay?” You are growing more frustrated by the second and you don’t want to look up at him.

“yea, fine. Just gimmie a second.” Your eyes stay down at his lap where the bouquet now laid in a shaken mess of petals and leaves. still usuable, but not your perfect vision like you wanted.

“Maybe you should take a break for a second?” he insists and stands up the switch places so now you sit in the chair, and he is hovering above you. “You are getting really worked up over this, are you okay?”

“yea yea, im fine.” you take a deep breath to try and regain yourself. Looking up, the blue is now inches from your face as he stares are you with worry. For some reason, in this moment, you just feel like bursting. “Its your eyes. I can’t focus with em.”

“what?”

“You’re always so distracting, you know that?”

“If im so distracting then why ask me to model?”

“Its just for the theme. Like i said it came to me the other day and i can’t let it go now.”

“ what can’t you let go?”

“I think I might be falling in love-“ you stop yourself as the words fall out, but the confession is already spoken. Your eyes fall to your lap as you can’t bare to look at him in the moment.

“Lieverd…” he bring a hand up to delicately grab your cheek and tilt your head up so you look at him again. With the two of you staring again you glance between his eyes and his mouth, and he seems to understand. “can I?” he asks and you rise out of the seat to meet him halfway.

Lips meeting and moving together as you bring one hand to his hair and the other grabbing at his shirt collar to bring him closer. His free hand pulls your waist in as your lips move in sync, each of you waiting for the other to break the moment.

You pull away first and are immediately met with your foe, blue staring you down but now feel softer. You pull your hands away slightly and wince at the damage you had done.

“Shit! Your shirt!” His looks to see smudges of charcoal staining the collar from where you grabbed it. He laughs and just shrugs.

“I kinda like it.” he replies and leans back in to kiss you again. You kiss back and lean into it before breaking again.

“As fun as this is, ai do really want to finish the sketch.” Joost laughs and nods, giving you space to get up and he sits down once again.

“Can I take you on a date after this?” he asks.

“mmm maybe,” you tease,” Ive never dated one of my models before.” you pick up the charcoal one more time and put a new piece of paper on your easel.

“Im more than just a model, right? Im your muse.” he smirks and gets into a dramatic pose that he is surely going to complain about holding for more than a minute. “Now, Lieverd, Teken mij als een van jouw Franse meisjes.”

You two did not get much more work done that day.

[storiesforallfandoms]

sleepy head ~ harry styles

word count: 1467

request?: yes!

“Hey! I request for the first time so I don't really know how much descriptive I have to be so yeah sorry if something's wrong,could I maybe request a Harry styles X reader where the reader has a bad habit of sleeping almost the whole day and when Harry wakes her up late in the afternoon she realizes that she missed yet another day with him and he comforts her beacuse she feels sad and guilty?(I hope this is understandable bc it's kind a problem of mine) thank you ♥️”

description: in which she struggles with staying awake and it makes her feel bad because she misses so much time with her boyfriend

pairing: harry styles x female!reader

warnings: rpf, more like a blurb than an imagine but...y’know

masterlist (one, two, three)

You had no idea what it was that made you so sleepy all the time. You had gone to the doctor and had your thyroid levels and your iron checked, both of which came back fine. You had taken melatonin to try and sleep through an entire night. You even tried drinking coffee and energy drinks to get you through the day. So far, nothing really worked. You were still perpetually tired.

If you had work or any plans that meant you had to leave the house, you were usually awake enough to partake. But the minute you were home, your bed would be beckoning for you, and it was nearly impossible for you to resist.

It was something you already had a lot of issues with, and you were trying to work on it, but it especially became a problem when you started dating Harry.

Harry would never say it bothered him. He was adamant whenever it was brought up that he wasn’t bothered by how often you slept. You, however, were very bothered and felt incredibly bad whenever you slept in late, or when slept your entire day away. You had such little time with him since he was always so busy, and you didn’t want to lose that time by sleeping all day.

On one of the last days before Harry had to leave for tour, the two of you had planned to spend the whole day together. You set an alarm for early that morning so you could get up and fight off the sleep you were sure would try and convince you to stay in bed.

The second the alarm went off, you got out of bed and got ready. You got dressed, made a cup of coffee, washed your face with cold water to wake yourself up more, and made breakfast. You texted Harry to say good morning and to ask when he wanted to start your day together. You were almost finished eating when you got his response: “good morning, love. i’m not long awake, so it’ll probably be an hour or two before i’m ready if that’s okay.”

“of course! see you then ❤️”

Now you just had to stay awake for maybe two hours.

You washed the dishes, even dried them and put them away. You finished your first cup of coffee and put on the kettle for another. While the water was boiling, you went to brush your teeth and splashed your face with cold water again. You paced the kitchen as you waited for your coffee to cool down enough to drink. You couldn’t let yourself sit down. You knew the moment you did, you would risk being hit my fatigue and falling asleep.

You looked at the time on your clock and realized only 30 minutes had passed since Harry had texted you. He hadn’t sent another message yet to say he was ready. You groaned as you pocketed your phone again.

“I’ve had two cups of coffee,” you said to yourself. “That should be good enough to keep me awake.”

So, you moved to the living room and sat down on the couch. You sat as straight as possible, not even allowing yourself to lean on the arm rest or to slouch. You opened TikTok on your phone and started the mindless scrolling. You figured that would be the best way to pass the time. It was easy to fall down a TikTok rabbit hole and lose an hour or more.

Eventually, your back started to hurt from the unnatural way you were sitting. You allowed yourself to lean against the arm rest. But then the leaning turned into laying down. You were on your side with your phone in your hand, TikTok still open. Your eyes were growing heavy, but you fought against them. It wouldn’t be much longer till Harry was ready. You had to stay awake.

But it was a losing battle, and soon enough, your eyes were closed and you were sound asleep.

~~~~~~

You jumped awake at the feeling of someone’s hand touching your arm. You quickly sat up, the post sleep confusion still clinging to you.

“Hey, it’s okay It’s just me.”

You blinked your blurry eyes a few times until you focused on the familiar face of your boyfriend.

You smiled, sheepishly. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s alright. It took me a little longer to get ready than I expected.”

You stretched your arms over your head. “What time is it?”

“Um...almost 4?”

“What?!”

Your phone was on the floor, probably having fallen when you fell asleep. You picked it up to check the time to see he was right, it was almost 4pm. You also saw you had a number of texts and missed calls from Harry.

“I texted you a few times to let you know I was ready whenever you were,” he was explaining. “When you didn’t answer, I called a few times. I figured you were asleep, so I waited a while before coming over, to let you sleep.”

“How long was a while?” you asked.

When Harry didn’t respond, it was all the answer you needed.

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you buried your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe you let it happen again. You tried so hard not to fall asleep so you could spend Harry’s last day with him, and yet you still fell victim to your fatigue.

Harry gently took your hands and lowered them from your face. You refused to look up at him, keeping your eyes on the floor instead.

“Love, I’m not upset that you fell asleep,” he assured you.

“I’m upset,” you said. “I tried everything to stay awake. I knew that if I laid down I would end up falling asleep, and I still did it. I wasted our whole day.”

“Hey.” Harry cupped your face so you’d look at him. You weren’t able to hold back your tears anymore, so they were just running down your cheeks as you looked at him. “You can’t help that this happened.”

“I could’ve,” you said. “If I hadn’t let myself lay down I would’ve stayed awake. I should’ve found more chores to do around the place before you came, or something to keep me busy. But I shouldn’t have to do that! If there wasn’t something wrong with me, I’d be able to stay awake like a normal person.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You gave him a look. “Yes there is, Harry. You’re always so nice when this happens, but I really wish you wouldn’t be. I wish you’d just tell me how you really feel about it, because I know it annoys you.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “When have I ever made it seem like I was annoyed?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was right, you technically had no evidence to support your claim that he was annoyed with you. He had been nothing but kind and patient every time you had missed plans or fallen asleep while you were both together.

“You can’t help that you’re tired so much,” he continued. “You told me about it when we went out on our first date, it’s not like it’s something that is new and came out of nowhere. And you’ve tried to deal with it, but it’s just how you are. I’m not going to be mad at you for the way you are.”

You sniffled as new tears started to form in your eyes. “But...today was our last day together before you leave, and I slept through it.”

“Last I checked, it’s only 4pm. There’s still plenty of time to do things before I have to go to bed. What do you say we grab some take away and watch a movie here?”

You wiped your cheeks and nodded. “I’d like that. And you promise to wake me if I fall asleep on your lap?”

“I don’t know. You’re adorable when you sleep.”

You playfully pushed him. “I’m serious. I already lost most of my day with you. I don’t want to lose anymore time.”

He pulled you close and kissed your forehead. “I promise I’ll wake you if you fall asleep, love.”

You smiled and kissed his lips. “I love you, and I really appreciate the fact that you put up with my sleepy-ness.”

“I’m not ‘putting up’ with anything, because I love you, too.”

He stood from the couch and pulled you with him. You followed him to his car, where the two of you went off to spend your evening together. And you made sure not to fall asleep until the both of you were tucked away in bed that night.

[crimsonicarus]

GR RPF FIC REC MASTERLIST!!

Long post!

Big shoutout to @arsenalgbt for suggesting i made a list, here are my fave GR fics, im a multishipper so it will be a couple or ships here, anyway, enjoy!

I wanted to also thank all the authors here listed for their awesome contributions to this lovely fandom, im really grateful for all your work <3333333

If any of the authors here listed would rather have their work taken down from this list please let me know .

new year's resolution by @wormeo-and-juliette

Pairing: OT3 Fernando Alonso/George Russell/Lance Stroll

Lance gets the text from Fernando well into the afternoon on the first day of the year: I slept with George.

Um. What?

eagle eyed by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: OT3 Alex Albon/George Russell/Logan Sargeant

“He’s watching, you know,” Alex says, voice level and conversational, like Logan being in the room is a normal part of this experience, “he’s hard.”

i’m your number one (it’s so obvious) by @63historian

Pairing: OT3 Lewis Hamilton/George Russell/Max Verstappen

“Tell him what you want, Georgie.”

He clenches his hole just as he starts begging, “I need you to come inside me, please, Max, please, I want it so bad.”

And who is Max not to obey such beautiful cries?

positive negatives by @ctimenefic

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all.

June is the coldest month of the year by @beabnormal24

Pairing: Max Verstappen/ George Russell

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected.

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him.

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world.

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves.

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.

nobody else by ginnydear

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

The Mercedes garage is almost overwhelmingly busy when Alex walks through the crowds of officials there.

or... what if the world was suddenly plunged into omegaverse and everyone started presenting at once... pt two.

 table in the back by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

“Okay, here’s the offer." Alex says. "I’m going to make you something and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay. How does that sound?”

“So I get a good meal or a free meal?” George asks. “Sounds like a no-lose scenario.”

“Keen eye, George,” Alex grins. “Figured out my terrible business sense on the first try. Alright, take it or leave it.”

 all green lights

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Sorry mate I think you've got the wrong number

chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line

Pairing: OT3 George Russell/Lance Stroll/Fernando Alonso

Lance and Fernando have been together for over two years and it is great. It is great apart from one minor detail. They are both dominant tops and the irritation is starting to grind them down. Enter Lance's ex-whatever, George Russell.

But George is not going to be as easy to get on board as Lance and Fernando think. He will give his whole heart but you have to open it up first.

DISCLAIMER: THE FIC IS NOW ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Very common crisis (series) by crimandclove

Pairing: George Russell/ Lance Stroll

January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

Calls and Cats by @raewritesf1

Pairing: George Russell/Max Verstappen

Things go awry when George’s video call with the quartet is interrupted by the form of a familiar half-naked Dutch driver wielding a Bengal cat in the background.

spread before you like a picnic by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Now, weeks later, he thinks that was probably the reason he’d said it, why when he came back to himself and noticed that Alex had manhandled him on his stomach and was in the process of peeling George’s jeans down, his first instinct was to say, panicky: “You can’t fuck me.”

it's not about having someone to love me anymore by linearity

Pairings: Alexander Albon/George Russell, George Russell/Toto wolff

George is an omega. He kind of hates himself for it.

Brake Balance by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: Alex Albon/George Russell

They’d agreed on friends when Alex had come to collect the last of his things from George’s flat. George had been adamant about it, all uncomplicated smiles, like they hadn’t just spent six months living in each other’s pockets and having some of the most bizarrely intimate sex of Alex’s life.

And friends is a noble intention, but. Alex still only has one friend who’s sucked him off in their driver’s room.

Allow yourself this happiness by Sonnenscheintraum

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

i can barely breathe (when you're here loving me)

When Lewis wakes up he knows he's going into rut. He will be able to get through the rainy and cold race in Spa if he takes enough suppressants.

But what if George by his side is actually making it worse for him to keep the rut in check?

How is he supposed to keep himself under control when George looks and smells like the most delicious way and makes him want to claim him?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

Lewis Hamilton may be the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth and choose not to see the truth, but he deserves so much more than a broken, thirteen years younger college student.

So George does what is best for him.

 See my Vision (tell ‘em) by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bites his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

George and Lewis have three weeks break between Monza and Singapore, and they just can’t wait anymore.

[emilydorp]

Do you think GTOP was just for the fan service?

Oh, what an interesting question. I shall try my best to answer this as completely as possible, so bear with me. Not sure if you want a speech (lol) but I am a certified chatterbox (and have a tinfoil hat.. that I shall be keeping at home.. unless you want me to whip it out). Lowkey wish I could just dm this cuz I am gonna take my time and be very messy plus can't easily SHOW you everything, especially because I have reblogged about a THOUSAND different (and sometimes same cuz some posts are just iconic like that) posts about gtop's relationship, have receipts that I and my fellow gtoppers haven't posted on Tumblr (I think, I mean I haven't) and am stupid so I didn't use tags. Feel free to ask more specific questions! IDK if I should mention which blog inspired my GTOP journey the most, since they aren't active, but if you know me personally you know how much I love that blog. Even tho this person is asking why they're not fanservice rather than why they're dating: if you ship them platonically and are NOT looking for evidence to change your mind, move along.. Unless that was your question, anon, in which case I am sorry for misinterpreting. Lez go :)).

I really, really, REALLY don't want to bring this up, but since Tumblr feels like a safe space for rpf without having consequences on the daily lives of the individuals and your question concerns fanservice.. so.. here's a special Mnet made about GTOP that was most likely released on December 11, 2012 and was shown on NATIONAL TV. (https://youtu.be/uGHwO_uuPVY?feature=shared). In the intro of TOP whispering into GD's ear, they didn't know they were being filmed. Neither did they know that when they were at the airport and TOP pulled GD to sit down next to him. GTOP isn't the only pairing they did, but it was the only pairing they used such personal moments and evidence for. It feels like an expose, even tho this isn't even 1% of the GTOP evidence we had atp. A LOT of things happened after this was released, and some need a tinfoil hat. But I shall be saying all basic observations and obvious things: -Jiko rumors, which Seunghyun himself was so ready to disprove, suddenly popped up and popped OFF. GD's old strategy of denying it like his life depended on it was gone and he instead was more.. coy? And no, this isn't because he started dating Kiko, at least in the beginning of 2012 he wasn't involved with her (after that point I can see potential) and in fact the Jiko relationship is FAR from this long term important relationship in GD's life (for which I could write a second speech). -GTOP died. Suddenly. Like someone had shot them down. From 2012-2014 people even thought they weren't friends anymore, but that is wrong because we have more than enough evidence to prove that they stayed close behind the cameras (despite the fact that there were two break ups in this period.. another speech can be held on that). And no, this isn't a normal response to being such a popular coupling. Other couples that were covered in the SAME special, (I believe 5 male x male, as they called it, couples were covered in this special) they went CRAZY when it came to fan service after their specials, because back in that era of kpop such fan service was the norm (and highly requested). And BB has done some insane fan service too.. but that insane fan service was NEVER GTOP.

Predebut GTOP and just debuted GTOP was very.. interesting. They did a lot of playful talking on Cyworld (totally how you'd text your crush.. from GD's side since we never got to see TOP's messages) and took a lot of selcas together. GD often playfully called Top “oppa” (which is a term girls use for an older brother/older male friend/or boyfriend). None of that is fan service, because this was before they truly had fans (although GD did have a few because he technically had debuted at age 12). GD would often say stuff like "Oh I'd date Taeyang if I was a girl" and he'd say it in the most DEADPAN way possible.. but once it comes to TOP he'd GUSH and get shy and describe his feelings and it's just so CUTE to hear him talk about TOP. But yeah, okay, let's ignore how obviously GD likes TOP.. There was even a radio show S*ungri was on (I pray to every God in the sky I reblogged it cuz I didn't appreciate it during my first listen and for that I will always be mad) and he said "Whenever I'm with GD, he'll start talking about TOP. He'd tell me, 'Ah, $*ungri, guess what TOP did today, he's so amusing, oh he's driving me insane', stuff like that." Now my question is; why would HE do GTOP fanservice? And this was in the early days, before he got involved in his shady dealings, his crimes, so he wasn't doing it to get brownie points and popularity, like he does later on. There are many fan accounts (one of them is VERY iconic and lives rent-free in my mind.. gosh when I find all those again.. here's one I saved cuz I loved it so damn much: https://web.archive.org/web/20240627183223/http://www.twitlonger.com/show/j8gci1) that report the two of them together without other members or friends, report GD playfully being "jealous" of others getting closer to TOP and/or report GD & TOP being so close that people believed they were dating because of how close they were (they weren't dating yet btw, just being flirty af). There are interesting stories about Nuthang (which is their friend circle). It was always commonly said that you saw GD with Top at night and Taeyang during the day. You only saw Top with GD, out of the members. Daesung was never seen much, other than at church or if he went out with the other members. Seungri was seen out partying, sometimes at the same place with GTOP but not necessarily with them. This was the consensus in the VIP fandom for the longest time, and people only started denying it later on. Unfortunately, a lot of GTOP stuff is no longer floating around, and K-VIPs also held a lot of stuff back from 2011-2012 onward, to 'protect' GD. There is one very clear instant of this protectiveness of GD, but that isn't your question soooooo.. ALSO NEVER FORGET THAT THEY MET IN MIDDLE SCHOOOOL.

Not even gonna try and explain this moment, just read this: https://www.tumblr.com/kwonaventure/172401662709/gtop-whispers-in-the-ntv7-malaysia-interview?source=share

Those subtle gestures in their body language, their laughs and smiles, their way of speaking to each other in such soft, caring, free and casual ways, and also, like, those ~obvious~ loving glances Jiyong has towards Seunghyun and Seunghyun's own ones for GD lmao. Just SOME, some of the moments I can recall of the top of my head, some of the things they do, like GD not shutting up about TOP in the Starcast call and not letting others speak to TOP during that call, the 2015 Welcoming Collection DVD, their entire body language and sneaky glaces during Night After Night (not to mention GD literally wearing the fur hat TOP gave him (GD confirmed this himself btw)), GD looking at Seunghyun, then looking at Seunghyun's lips, then looking at Seunghyun at their comeback special stage in 2015, their Insta behaviour and, ofc, the WAY he looked at TOP in 'Happy Together'.. these moments and their chemistry, their heavenly chemistry, is just too good and too disruptive to be fan service (only). There was a very VERY specific gtop moment of GD taking a selfie and TOP didn't know the camera was on while talking to GD (so he was just staring at him and said something lowkey flirty like "Are you shy?" lmao) and GD had to go all "The camera is on! :((" to chase TOP away, which is certified proof of them not being fan service but I CAN'T find itttt.

With GTOP, there are many times that the two of them were together that we’d never see. TOP is notorious for being present and just not appearing in any pictures, especially (and after awhile ONLY) when it came to GD. After all, there are at least a few instagram photos that GD has posted that Top didn’t appear in that were determined to be from a time he and GD were together. And it isn't like GD wants to not share pictures of his friends, he was very freely sharing pictures he has with everyone except TOP. There are a handful of examples I can think of where TOP was just out of sight? Ofc those are just the times we were lucky enough to realize. If they were all about fanservice, wouldn't they post selcas about hanging out, like TOP did with Daesung, the person he did most of his fan service with?

THEIR COUPLE WEAR AND OTHER INSTA BEHAVIOUR FROM THROUGHOUT THEIR CAREERS. I WISH I WAS KIDDING WHEN I SAY IT IS INSANE. INSANE. Not even gonna TRY and summerize, GD is obsessed with matching Seunghyun. There is no reason for them to do that for fan service. I just can't see it.

Listen, I can go on for YEARS (cuz that's how long they've been together lmao). There's a REASON I have reblogged a thousand posts (seriously what is wrong with me and gtop? This is insane...). All I can say is.. ask more specific questions lol. And also, if you disagree, feel free to do your own research :))). HOPE THIS POST WASN'T TOO MESSY!!

[ingydar-phan]

My question is why is everyone just chomping at the bit for a "hard launch"? These are human beings I just want them to be happy whatever that means to them, we shouldn't be theorizing about whether or not they are gonna announce their relationship whatever it is

Genuinely confused at what this is asking or trying to get at but I’ll try.

Why? Because, as I wrote about in my big text post, everything is intentional. No matter how good of actors they are, when in front of a camera, (only 1% of their actual life), they are making content. They are curating their actions. When in front of a camera they are content creators.

Recognizing that being in content only makes up 1% of their life is the boundary that creates this comfortability. You’re so right, they are human beings. Human beings with 15 years of experience in public relations. Whether you like it or not, realize it or not, their content is based around them. If we only saw their gameplay screen recorded, their content wouldn’t be their content. They are where they are because of how they interact. Because of who they are as people.

I also want to point out that the hard launch thing didn’t come out of nowhere, as of right now, it’s come from pattern recognition of them leading up to something coming. Us watching them isn’t having a hidden camera in their house, it’s them intentionally choosing to put out what they want to put out.

We all want them to be happy. I want them to be happy. What is this weird, coping mechanism defense tactic style, of idea that hard launching (whatever that means) is at all a bad thing? Where do people get the idea that it would suddenly make their life hell, or that we or they would somehow be “losing” in some made up battle?

“We shouldn’t be theorizing” yes we should. I’m taking this lightly as I suppose this is a subjective opinion, but Dan and Phil are RPF enjoyers to their core. Dan got with Phil by obsessing over him online. Like I said, the internet is only 1% of their life. What seems majorly catastrophic to you or us is minuscule to them.

“Their relationship, whatever it is”. Sorry? I genuinely don’t want to be mean, so I’m going to laugh. What a silly little jokester you are. But no, I cannot comprehend people who are intentionally or unintentionally obtuse to the point of boggling when having to think of what DNPs relationship is. To take some sentiments from @dysthoepiadaily, what more can they possibly do? Are people really this dense? They’re husbands, soulmates, more than just romantic, more than friends, 4000 year old tortoises, companions through life, a ranch metaphor, gay uncles, whatever. Sorry it’s not handed to you on a silver platter because you’re terrified of using critical thinking skills out of fear of….judgement? Insult? I don’t even know.

As far as it goes with Dan and Phil as “human beings”, they have done all they can to show us, like any other couple on earth, what they are to each other.

As far as it goes with Dan and Phil as a commercial brand of media, it’s not all about that. The buildup, the complexity, is what makes them interesting. No matter how talented and interesting they are, they undeniably profit off of their romance and relationship to one another, no matter the topic of content. That’s obvious, and it’s a positive aspect, not a negative. Taking that final step of hand feeding or “hard launch” would definitely change the way they’re viewed, but it wouldn’t change who they are. You’ve had the illness even before it got diagnosed, to use a metaphor. We’d just be proud. We wouldn’t change, we’d just be proud of them.

[singsweetmelodies]

a little while ago, i got this ask asking me if i could make some sort of introduction to the pierre/charles ship and all its lore. and since they are, without question, my f1 rpf OTP, my answer was oh my god yes of course. it's taken me a little while to compile all that lore - because boy, is there a lot - but it's been one of the happiest research projects of my life, without question. and i think it's finally ready to go!! so, with no further ado...

ABOUT PIARLES: a (not-so-brief) introduction to f1 rpf's french friends to lovers ship

so the first thing you need to know about piarles is that they're childhood best friends. not that uncommon in a sport like f1, to be fair - most of the drivers grew up together, racing against each other in karting. but pierre and charles are a little different in that they aren't just karting acquaintances: the two of them (and their entire families) are genuinely good friends.

in fact, if you ask either pierre or charles about the other (and interviewers often do) one of the first things they'll probably say is "we've known each other for a long time," quickly followed by "we used to go on holiday together when we were kids." and they ALWAYS say this with the fondest expressions 🥰 even if you take shipping completely out of the equation, it's clear that these two have a very long-standing and very close friendship, with many fond memories which both of them seem to treasure very much.

in charles' own words:

"Pierre! We know each other since... a long, long time. We used to go on holidays together when we were children with our parents, and uh... we did quite a bit of mess together when we were children, but (laughs) very good memories. And the relationship never really changed throughout the years, even though we have taken different paths, because he was a bit older, so we weren't always in the same categories. But we would always call each other, text each other, go on holidays together... and yeah, I just have so many memories." (source - watch from timestamp 2:06)

pierre tells a very similar story:

"He's definitely one of my best friends. Charles is a very nice person and an incredible driver. We met when we were 9 years old and created a very strong bond. Our parents are very close, and we went on vacations from when we were 10, so we created lots of memories. We were teammates in karting when we were 12, and today we find ourselves in Formula 1. It's a pretty incredible story. But for me the most important part is to see the person he's become, and he hasn't changed since he was young." (source)

i think it's important to note that these aren't the only times pierre and charles have spoken about each other in glowing terms like this - no, it happens quite frequently. pretty much every time they're asked about each other, tbh. (i'm not going to add quotes from every single time here, though, because we would be here for the rest of the month if i tried. 😅) the point is, piarles are pretty damn close, and think very highly of each other.

but it's not just them that are close: like i mentioned in the first paragraphs of this post, their families are close, too. they really are childhood friends in that "your family is practically my second family" sense, which i think is something really special.

here, for example, is pierre's father jean-jacques talking about charles:

Charles is part of the family. We've known him since he was nine and when he started in karting with Pierre. (...) When the races were in England Charles was sleeping at our place, and when the races were in Italy, Pierre was sleeping at Charles's place. Then Pierre moved to F4. I don't think there have ever been a big rivalry between them even though their careers were similar. Charles is part of the family probably even more since Hervé passed away. Our door will always be open for him and he knows.” (source)

🥹

what's more, charles has also said numerous times that it's hard to maintain true friendships in f1 - but his bond with pierre is one of those rare exceptions:

It’s rare I think, it’s very rare to have a sincere friendship in F1, because there’s a lot of competition. So yes there’s friendship, but it’s not always entirely sincere - but with Pierre it really is, and it has always been. (source)

they're friends. they really are friends, not just friendly coworkers, like many of the other f1 drivers are. pierre and charles genuinely like and appreciate each other's company very much - which, even if you put shipping completely aside, is just such a wonderful thing, and always makes me smile so much.

one of my personal favourite moments was when pierre talked about charles on the beyond the grid podcast in 2023:

"That's why I really like these chats that I can have with Charles, because I know with Charles, discussing about both our lives, we won't judge each other... because we know what it's like and we just speak very openly about various things. And I know it's almost like a happy place or a comfortable place where you really feel you can open up. He'll understand, I'll understand him..." (source - listen from timestamp 32:01)

if that doesn't make your heart melt at least a little bit, then i don't know what to say to you.

... no, actually, i do. if this kind of sentimentality won't do it for you, how about a bit of silliness and humour?

that's right. like any good childhood friends, pierre and charles also have an embarrassing nickname for each other: "calamar," which is french for "squid." (we know that they call each other that courtesy of charles' insta).

what on earth is the origin of this nickname, you may be wondering? well, according to pierre...

"It goes back to a long time ago when we were kids, like... nine, ten years old. We would go on holidays together and spend more time. I don't know. It just came, like one day we decided to call each other calamar, which is not really such a beautiful nickname, but yeah it was just for fun. We were kids and we were laughing. And actually, we have many other nicknames because we were teammates also in karting and we spent a lot, a lot of time together. So, a lot of nicknames came alongside all this time. And this kind of stayed with us." (source)

as pierre said in this quote, "calamar" is not even the only nickname they have - pierre sometimes calls charles "charlito" and also "charlo," while charles calls pierre "mon petit."

and as if that's not enough, they're also that pair of boyfriends friends who always have to bring each other up in conversation. if there's ever an interview question along the lines of "which f1 driver would you...." then you can pretty much bet pierre will answer "charles," and charles will answer "pierre."

for example, here is pierre choosing charles as the one f1 driver he'd take for a drink. and here is charles naming pierre as his best friend in the paddock. oh, and here is pierre saying he'd choose charles as one driver to take with him to a desert island. there's more, but i think you get the idea 😆❤️

so yeah! that's a quick(ish) overview of the background/context of piarles - AKA the french (yes, i know charles is monégasque, but he SPEAKS french) friends/boyfriends on the grid.

(if you'd like to know more details about their friendship, especially about their pre-f1 years, then i recommend this post and its follow-up compiled by the incredible @vegasgrandprix. these posts really are a treasure trove for piarles history & lore!)

but now that i've painted a pretty clear picture of their friendship, let's move on to some more shippy moments, shall we? the "lovers" part of friends to lovers <3333

believe it or not, eveything up till now was just the background information about piarles. it's more than enough to build an OTP on already, i'd say - but wait, there's more!

the thing with pierre and charles is that along with being friends, they are also french (or....french-adjacent. close enough) which means that they have absolutely zero problem with being very openly affectionate with each other.

this has given us some very delicious shipping moments, which i will now try and give an overview of. (my fellow piarlies: if i've left out one of your favourite moments, please forgive me - they have so many moments with each other, and tumblr has a post character limit, so there was just no way for me to include everything, much as i wanted to. but i do think this is a good introduction!)

let's start with perhaps the most iconic piarles moment of them all: monza 2020, aka pierre gasly's first win in f1.

that was a crazy, wonderful day in so many ways - first of all, the race itself was insane. pierre started 10th on the grid, and with a lot of luck + a safety car that really worked out for him, ended up leading the race and defended from carlos sainz with DRS to get his maiden win. this was almost exactly a year after he'd been dropped from red bull, so the win was pretty much the biggest fuck-you to everyone @ RBR and comeback moment for pierre that was possible. it was also a dream come true (every f1 driver dreams about winning a race!) and you only need to look at any interview pierre did afterwards to see how much it meant to him.

what makes it even more insane, though, is that charles was right there to congratulate him and watch his podium. keep in mind that, in the same race, charles crashed out - both ferraris did, in monza of all places. i don't think anyone would've been surprised, or held it against him at all, if charles just kept his head down for the rest of that day.

but no. even though he wasn't medically cleared after the crash yet (!!) charles went to parc fermé anyway to congratulate pierre. remember that thing i said about them being french and very open with affection? well:

here are some pictures of the monza piarles congratulations hug. (am i the only one who thinks it looks like charles wants to kiss pierre in that second pic?! god....) here and here are some more angles of the hug to go insane over, if you like.

you can also watch it in video format here - and yes, charles really did pull pierre out of his hug with romain so that he could congratulate him himself. i know. (also, yes, pierre does pat charles' ass just before they go their separate ways. what can i say? french.)

as if that's not already insane enough, charles also stayed to watch pierre's podium despite not being medically cleared yet after his crash. (we have to thank netflix FOREVER for providing us with that specific behind-the-scenes shot 🙏 drive to survive - you did well that time, you really did.)

and afterwards, charles said:

It was just a dream for one of us to get into F1 one day. In the end we’re both in F1, we’ve both won a GP, both of us in Monza. (...) I was really happy that day, even if my race went wrong, his win made it a good day. (source)

your honour. who says that about another driver's win, especially on a day where you yourself had an awful race? if that's not love in a sport like f1, i don't know what is!

i really could talk about monza 2020 and how much it means for a very long time, but i will rein myself in to just one final comment: isn't it rather beautiful to think that pierre & charles' names will always be next to each other in the monza winners list? charles won there in 2019, and then pierre won there in 2020. talk about soulmatism ❤️💙

now, moving on to another absolutely iconic (and delightfully gay) piarles moment: baku 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had an awesome last-lap battle for the P3 podium spot.

it was very close racing, with them swapping positions several times down the straight - but they kept it clean. in fact, they kept it so clean that someone remarked it's like they know each other by heart. yup. totally a normal thing to say about two men racing.

equally normal was charles' comments after the race:

"The last lap was my favourite part of the race. It was crazy and had a lot of actions. With Pierre it was hot. I'm happy for him for his podium." (source)

and as if that's not enough, he also GRABBED pierre into a hug in parc fermé, and then held him incredibly close while congratulating him.

you can watch this hug in video format here and gif format here, if you want - and i really recommend doing so, because it's insane to see how charles quite literally crashes into pierre's personal space and yanks him into a hug. (here is a close-up of their helmets during said hug - and you can just say it with me. GAY.)

that's still not all, though: charles congratulated pierre twice after the race. once on the outlap (with a thumbs-up and a middle finger as pierre's car drove past his, LMAO) and then on social media as well (with a nickname and a kiss emoji).

he ALSO commented on pierre's instagram post about the race with another kiss emoji:

so, apparently, charles was thinking about kissing pierre quite a lot in baku 2021. 🤭 an iconic day all around!

and as it happens, 2021 brought us another iconic piarles moment - though this one is a whole less happy. i'm talking about styria 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had contact in a race, and pierre had to retire from that grand prix.

here is the official f1 news article about the incident - the long and the short of it is that charles misjudged on lap 1 and crashed into the side of pierre's car, ending pierre's race. naturally, pierre was furious and upset, especially because the alphatauri was actually a good car in 2021, and he'd stood to score really good points that sunday.

now, for most f1 girlies, an incident like this between childhood friends immediately brings up vivid brocedes flashbacks. and, to be honest, it wouldn't have been that much of a surprise if this had indeed soured pierre and charles' friendship - we saw exactly this happen with pierre and esteban, after all.

but no. charles went to see pierre post-race to clear the air between them, and although pierre was furious with him, he didn't let it ruin their friendship. in fact, when he was asked how the incident affected their friendship, pierre had the following to say:

"Yeah... I was really sad to end 15 years of friendship. He is no more my friend (laughs). No, no, it's... honestly, it was really painful, you know, you work so hard the whole weekend for Sunday to score points, and then after literally like 20 seconds, the whole race was over. So, quite a difficult one to swallow, but, you know, we know each other, with Charles, we have a lot of respect for each other. He came to see me after the race - I was still pretty pissed off with him, but, uh, we knew before last Sunday, nothing ever happened between us on the race-track, and we knew one day it would happen. Unfortunately I paid the price more than him, but yeah, it's racing, unfortunately. (...) It's painful, it's racing, it happens sometimes - I just told him to make sure it doesn't happen another time, and... we're fine." (source - watch from 17:01)

i think that styria 2021 is vital piarles lore not because it's a fun shippy moment, but rather because it shows the strength of their connection. an incident like this could easily have destroyed their friendship, but they didn't let it. they mean enough to each other that they let what happens on-track stay on-track and not affect their closeness off-track. and that, i think, is something truly special - they were tested in a way which has destroyed f1 friendships before, and yet they still came out stronger.

iconic indeed.

on a happier note again, now, there is also montreal 2022, which many piarles fans consider one of THE seminal piarles moments. the race itself was not so memorable for our boys this time, but what they did off-track is.

that is to say: pierre and charles went on a dinner date. then, they were spotted driving around the streets of montreal in a white ferrari. and THEN, as if that's not mind-blowing enough already... charles posted, to his public instagram story, a video of pierre wearing his charles-leclerc-16 branded ferrari hat.

these screenshots are peanut quality, i'm sorry, lmao... but all of montreal 2022 feels a bit like a fever dream in the best way, so i think the blurriness just captures the vibes, tbh.

we're not quite done with montreal 2022 yet, though - earlier on the same day, charles also had a very sweet hello with pierre's parents. you can just SEE how much pierre's parents love charles, and isn't that just the most heartwarming thing 😭❤️

now, one final thing about montreal 2022: pierre never posted his infamous photo dump after that race. that might not seem particularly important, but... this is the only race of 2022 for which pierre DIDN'T post a photo dump.

there are a thousand and one theories about why he didn't - maybe he just forgot, maybe he had a busy weekend, maybe he didn't have any photos he wanted to share. or, in a more shippy interpretation... maybe he does have photos, especially photos of charles, but he doesn't want to share them/wants to keep them all to himself. we don't know!

one lucky piarlie got to meet pierre in london in 2022 at an alphatauri event, and actually asked him about the montreal photo dump thing. here is what he said (courtesy of the lovely @they-call-it-traffic 💞)

the descriptions there... you can just picture pierre's expressions & smirks SO perfectly, right? he is insane. they are insane. #investigatemontreal !!

anyways. moving on one year again: 2023 brought us pierre and charles' basketball date:

as well as two tennis dates:

(i call them "dates" because pierre and charles spent a significant time together during them, hanging out & enjoying each other's company and looking at each other with major heart-eyes. obviously, irl, they aren't officially dates - in fact, both pierre and charles had their irl girlfriends along with them when they attended wimbledon. but who cares too much about irl -- this is a rpf post 😉)

i'm not going to spend too long explaining the lore behind these, because i'm already flirting with the tumblr post character limit 🙈 but basically, what happened is that on all 3 these occasions, pierre and charles chose to hang out together at events completely unrelated to f1, simply because they are friends and like each other's company. (that, to me, is always a measure of how much f1 drivers actually like each other - whether or not they choose to spend time with each other when they're not forced into proximity by f1. pierre and charles pass this test with flying colours.)

the basketball date is particularly insane, because that day was actually an event which charles, pierre and esteban attended. but you wouldn't know THAT from charles' post about it. charles fully cropped esteban out of his post - he really said "esteban who? i only spent time with my friend pierre 😌" and he said it with his whole chest.

ALSO, while we're on the subject of the basketball date and social media - pierre and charles co-posted a reel about it on instagram. yes. CO-POSTED. you know, like a couple co-posting about their date.

piarles basketball date, you will always be famous!!

(P.S. - a lot of piarles fans refer to this 2023 basketball date as "basketball date 2.0" - and this is because pierre and charles have actually done this before, in 2021. i really can't talk too much about that date - character limit, my beloathed - but let me just say that pierre draping his arm round the back of charles' chair is something that lives rent free in my mind. rent free.)

another thing that lives in my mind rent-free is charles being interviewed at their first tennis date, and calling pierre his best friend <3333 love is friendship set on fire, etc etc!

... so, okay, when i said i wasn't going to talk too much about the lore behind the tennis & basketball dates, i lied a little bit. but in my defence - they were insane for these, they really were!

anyways. now, let's skip back in time a little - because i would be very remiss if i didn't include pierre and charles' 2016 joint championship celebrations.

in the year 2016, pierre was the GP2 champion and charles the GP3 champion (GP2 and GP3 are the old names for F2 and F3). in a very pretty twist of fate, they both clinched their respective titles at the same circuit, in the final race of their respective series - and then, of course, they celebrated together.

here is an adorable gifset of them celebrating together after the final GP2 race. and here are some more pictures from the official Prema photoshoot for the GP2 & GP3 champions (yes, they did a joint photoshoot together. even Prema ships it, apparently!)

actually, while we're on the subject of celebrating together: pierre and charles almost always congratulate each other for their significant achievements in f1. see: charles making a point to congratulate pierre on his podium in baku, as i discussed earlier in this post, and again in zandvoort 2023. (both times with a kiss emoji, mind you). similarly, check out pierre seeking charles out in parc fermé to congratulate him for his bahrain 2022 season-opener pole, and then congratulating him for his win twice over on social media. (and these are just a few examples out of many!)

this is one of those things that sets them apart from many other f1 rpf pairings: they both seem genuinely happy when the other does well. and like. they are COMPETITORS - but they're good enough friends that they can still celebrate each other's achievements genuinely and happily. that is insane!!

yes, sure, it's good sportsmanship to congratulate other drivers for wins/podiums - but that is usually done with a handshake in person or a copy-paste "congrats to XYZ" in the post-race interview, or something like that. one rarely gets the sense that it comes from a place of genuine, deep happiness for the other driver being congratulated.

pierre and charles are just on a whole different level. they specifically seek each other out in parc fermé, hug each other with so much enthusiasm that it looks suspiciously gay, and also post about each other's achievements very fondly on social media.

again, this is something you might see a driver do for their teammate - for example, charles congratulating "carlos and the team" for a win in singapore - but almost never with a freaking KISS EMOJI. and a pet name. and so much genuine joy.

just... yeah. they care about each other so much, and are each other's biggest supporters ❤️

it's not just in good times that they're there for each other, either: 2019 was a truly difficult year for both pierre and charles (pierre especially) but they were still there for each other when it mattered.

the prime example of this is monza 2019, which was one race after pierre's demotion from red bull, and also one race after anthoine hubert's death. because the fia has no sense of basic kindness or decency, naturally they put pierre into a press conference that very weekend.

the video of that press conference is very hard to watch - every time pierre is asked a question, you can hear how much he is struggling to hold it together. honestly, the sole good thing from this presscon is that at least pierre had charles beside him.

here is a post i made where i discuss this in a bit more detail, but essentially: charles sat as close as possible to pierre for the entirety of that conference - close enough that their shoulders were practically touching - as a non-verbal gesture of support. you can see the difference in space between charles & pierre vs all the other drivers, and there's no way that was accidental. charles might not have been able to voice his support for pierre out loud right then, but it's there in every part of his body language.

another very meaningful moment is also from 2019, when pierre went up to charles pre-race in spa:

"I told Charles before the race, please win this race for Anthoine." (source)

and charles did. 💙

then later in 2019, when pierre got his first podium in brazil, guess who was right there to hug and congratulate him? that's right.

this was another case where charles' own race fell apart - he had a crash with his teammate, in fact - but he still made a point of going to hug pierre after his P2, and going on social media to tell pierre and also the whole world that pierre deserved that podium. that's what i call supporting your best friend.

now, at this point, you might be thinking... well, pierre and charles have it all. whether you're looking for happy moments or deep emotional moments or suspiciously gay moments to fuel your shipping fire, it's all there.

and you'd be right! they do have it all. though i will say this - one of the complaints i've heard whispered around this fandom is that piarles is a fun ship, but they don't have any content videos together like teammates do. so it's harder to ship them, because you don't get to see them actually interact with each other aside from like 5-second video clips...

to that i say: well. they might not have any teammate videos together, but oh boy. as of 2023, they do have something else: the squeezie video.

i could talk about the squeezie video for MONTHS, i really could - but let me try and keep it brief. so, squeezie is this french youtuber who has this "who's the impostor?" video series in which he gets a couple of celebrities to join him on the show, plus some people from a certain profession, and then they have to guess who actually does that profession and who's the impostor.

the day that pierre and charles were guests on the show, the professions were "firefighter," "midwife," "flight attendant" and "school counselor." this resulted in absolute chaos of the best kind - ah, man, i cannot even begin to describe to you what a glorious mess it was. that video had everything from charles & pierre cradling fake babies, to charles & pierre extremely dramatically accusing each other of lying, to pierre making dirty hand gestures while charles blushes profusely, to charles & pierre play-acting being naughty schoolkids (feat. charles saying he fell asleep in class and woke up from a nightmare screaming "box box" 😭)

here are some screenshots of some of my favourite moments:

the way they LOOK at each other... GOD.

anyways! you can watch the video here. my recommendation is to watch it with the original french sound track - there is an english dub available, but it sounds incredibly strange to hear american accents coming out of pierre & charles' mouths, off-sync with what they're actually saying. it's a MUCH better experience to watch in french, so you can hear what they actually said, and enjoy how they interact with each other. (english subtitles are available!) alternatively, you can find some translated highlights here, courtesy of the incredible @sedicii <3333

aside from all the still-can't-believe-they-actually-did-this-on-camera content, one of the things that makes me feel the most insane is that pierre and charles both chose to appear on this video. there was no contractual PR requirement saying they both had to participate in it, like with teammate challenges - no, they did it in their free time, because they wanted to.

i mean, sure, that video was definitely good for PR for both of them, but the point stands that they didn't have to do it, and they certainly didn't have to do it together. they CHOSE to - and what's more, they said at the end of the video that they'd do it again.

that's so central to pierre and charles, i think: they choose each other, time and time again. they freely choose to spend time with each other, because they genuinely like each other and enjoy each other's company. so much so that you will find them together at least once on almost every race weekend.

no, seriously. it's a very unusual race weekend if pierre and charles aren't spotted together at least one time. whether it's being glued to each other's sides on driver's parades, or chatting in the background of some or other interview, or just walking through the paddock together... they will find each other.

there are SO many instances where this happens that i would be here for over a month if i tried to list them all - and i'd still probably miss some. but here are some of my personal highlights!

pierre and charles finding each other pre-race in jeddah

pierre and charles chatting in the media pen in the background of one of alex's interviews

pierre and charles walking together in vegas (feat. fond smiles)

pierre and charles being baby gossip girls in 2018

more baby piarles in 2018

even more baby pierre and charles chatting in 2017

and just to round things off: most recently, pierre and charles walking together in jeddah 2024

and many, many more... including a whole bunch of moments we'll probably never know about.

that's another thing that makes me more than a little insane about these two: pierre has actually said, in so many words, that they'll never share everything about their friendship.

In the end we have the same life, we grew up together. We've done many things together, but you won't hear about all of it. (source)

all these moments that we see, that we go insane over... that's probably not even the half of what they've actually done together. and that makes me feel some type of way. if this is just the small pieces of their lives & interactions that they choose to share with the public, then just imagine what else there could be...

....buuuuut that'll start becoming a fanfic if i let myself carry on with that line of thinking too long. (can i just say one thing about that, though? the piarles fanfic community is absolutely INCREDIBLE. such talented writers, such wonderful people... just, chef's kiss all around!!) but, yeah! i think this post has gone on for more than long enough now, haha.

so, to conclude: pierre and charles really are the epitome of a friends to lovers ship: they get along famously, they genuinely seem to love each other's company and are always laughing together - and they can very often be found giving each other the heart-eyes/looking at each other like they're in love. if it's warmth, joy and friends to lovers feels that you're after, then look no further <3333

thank you so much for reading! and i do hope that after all this, you're at least a little bit in love with piarles, too ❤️