#I’ve replayed it three times now

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

Hey so remember the Destiel fic Angel’s Wild by riseofthefallenone on ao3???

Yeah so the song Strange Sight by KT Tunstall (yes the one from the Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbest movie) is so perfect for that fic like just— I’m listening to it now and I can’t unhear it

OK Thanks goodnight 👏👏

[greetings-inferiors]

I’m so tired I cried tears of joy when pikmin 4 was schaffrillas’ game of the year

[brittlebutch]

were the bots in the murderbot diaries written to Be autistic? bc i’m having a hard time reading the intention as anything different lmao

[trevisos]

i miss aria t’loak…. i think she should get a cameo is veilguard. somehow

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LIGHTS, CAMERA AND LOVE 𖤐. — nishimura riki

↺ CONTENT: idol au, both reader and riki are idols, reader is female, brief tooth-rotting fluff.

↺ FROM HYE: this was inspired after watching his artist of the month video heh…

“Hello everyone. I’m (Name) and today, I’m on the set of Studio Choom to film the video for the Artist of the Month,” you introduced yourself, clapping and bowing a little as you sat on the chair provided by the staff. 

“(Name), how does it feel to be chosen as the Artist of the Month?” 

Laughing, you shyly tucked your hair behind your left ear. “Ah, to be honest, I’m not that confident in my dancing abilities. So I was quite shocked when I heard I got selected. But thank you so much for the opportunity provided to me. I will show my best self for everyone and my fans.” 

“Can you tell us what you have prepared for us?”

Humming, you slung your left leg over your right as you rested your hands on your left knee. “I’ve chosen to perform two songs: Rude Boy by Rihanna and Work it by Missy Elliot. I have gone with hip hop and pop, as I always wanted to try dancing to these kinds of songs. And I like challenging myself to new things too.” 

“How would you rate the choreography?” 

You purse your lips, pondering over it before answering. “If you know Pass the Mic by ENHYPEN, take their choreography and multiply it by… three times? It’s quite hard and it took me a while to master it.” 

“Speaking of ENHYPEN, how long have you been dating Nishimura Riki?” 

You gasped, taken aback by the sudden question about your love life. Your face flushed red when you heard the staff laugh at your embarrassment. “We’ve been together for about six months now, and our monthly anniversary is coming tomorrow. Which is also the day the video will drop too. I hope everyone looks forward to it-?” 

You paused when you saw a familiar figure entering the place. You ignored how you were in the middle of an interview, face brightening at the sight of your beloved boyfriend entering. You excitedly waved as Riki got closer. He chuckled, leaning down to press a loving kiss on your forehead as he stood beside you. Due to him being too tall, the camera was not able to capture his face. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re still busy with your schedule,” you asked, having to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“We ended early and I decided to surprise you. Although, it looks like you’re in the middle of something,” he sounds sheepish, but the staff merely shrugged his apology off. 

You giggled, leaning against him and faced the camera. “Now that my boyfriend’s here, maybe we should hear some encouraging words from him. Right, Riki?”

“Huh? Why are you suddenly interviewing me?” His eyes widened, not expecting you to change the direction of the interview just like that. You laughed at his reaction, pulling at his hand. 

“Come on, just say a few words!” You begged. 

Sighing, he bent slightly to reveal his face to the camera. “Hello, I’m Nishimura Riki from ENHYPEN. Uh, I don’t have much to say but please show lots of love and support to (Name)’s performance video. It drops tomorrow and I can tell she has put in a lot of effort into making the video. Thanks.” 

“Before we end, could we have the both of you do a dance together?” 

“Aish, I knew there was something else after this,” Riki mischievously wagged his finger at the staff, eliciting a round of amused laughter from them. 

You chuckled, rising to your feet. “Sure, how about we cover Riki’s dance on Studio Choom? The Artist of the Month video and we can do the moment of the video where it's most replayed.” 

“Don’t tell me…” Riki’s voice trailed off, recognition flickering across his face when he saw one of the staff handing both of you sunglasses. 

“Yup.” 

Both of you got into position. Once the music started, the staff were amazed with how in sync you were with one another. Your facial expressions were on point, easily matching the vibes of the song. Thankfully, you did not have to perform the whole choreography and instead, only showcase five minutes of it. When it ended, you were panting and catching your breath. 

“Since when did you learn it?” Riki asked, amazed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“It was meant to be a surprise, but I guess it’s out of the bag now,” you sheepishly scratched your head, squeaking when he embraced you in a hug, his taller frame hiding you from the camera. The staff took it as a cue to end the recording, wanting to give the couple their much-needed alone time. 

Seeing this, Riki took it as his cue to squish your cheeks with his hands. You made a noise of protest but he ignores it, sniggering at your offended expression. He could no longer hold back, leaning down to give you a searing kiss on your lips. Before you could react, he had pulled away. A satisfied smirk appeared on his face at the sight of your dazed look. 

“You’re so cute,” he teased. 

“Riki!”

Needless to say, the video did well and most of the comment sections were filled with people squealing over your relationship. 

‘(Name) and Riki are so cute together! And the way they are in sync with one another is so cool! Truly the power duo we need.’

‘Forget Riki, I want (Name) instead.’

‘The part where they threw their sunglasses at the same time… chefs kiss.’ 

[fangswbenefits]

Memories

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Hurt/comfort. Fluff. I teared up writing this and figured I needed someone else to share the pain with me :D

“Miguel.”

You looked on as the man before your eyes paused the video on the hovering screen.

“It’s late,” he said in a low voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Did something happen?”

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow at first as you realised he was once again replaying old memories. Miguel O’Hara was stuck in the past while trying to preserve the future.

“I have something to tell you.”

You had considered waiting until he got back home, but you needed to let it all out now.

He turned to fully face you and stepped from the platform. The closer he got to you, the more you felt your anxiety soaring.

“Did something happen?” He repeated, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “You should be home.”

This is what Miguel did. He took care of others. He couldn’t help it, even if his lifelong concern got in between the two of you.

Or three, you should say.

“I wanted to tell you now,” you smiled briefly as you took his hand in yours while taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

His red eyes widened slightly and then… nothing.

He merely stood there as if frozen in time, the grip on your hand slowly faltering.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“How?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me how?”

“No! I mean…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did you find out?”

“Today.”

Giving your hand a final squeeze he let go, his warmth suddenly vanishing.

“Huh… I thought…” your next words died in your mouth and your heart dropped.

Seeing him walk up the platform steps left you speechless. You thought he wanted this… to rebuild the life that he lost.

Tears began to sting your eyes, but you refused to let a single one stream down your face.

A video of his daughter giggling and running around started playing and you saw him clenching his fists. Her giggles echoed through the room breaking the silence that had settled.

“Miguel O’hara, look at me!”

Had this been a mistake? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you two had rushed things.

“Miguel,” you called out again, anger filling you with such intensity you felt like shooting your webs at his back to have him turn around. “I’m carrying your child. Look at me!”

The cheeky giggles stopped at once and nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Miguel did what you asked and that’s when you saw a single tear running down his hardened face.

In that moment, your anger shattered and the overwhelming need to take care of him took over.

You promptly joined him on the platform, burying your face in his broad chest. His arms circled you in a tight embrace, and you remained silent for a while.

“I’m broken.”

“Miguel… don’t…”

He heaved a deep sigh. “You deserve better.”

It wasn’t easy to go through his insecurities with him. He had built a wall around him that kept people out.

“I can’t forget her…”

Miguel O’hara had once been responsible for the destruction of

“I don’t want to forget her!” he nearly yelled, pulling you away from his embrace as his red eyes flickered with hurt. “I don’t… I don’t want to move on without the memory of her…”

You brought both hands to frame his face. “Miguel, I am not asking that of you… she will always be part of you.”

He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw tensing.

“I thought you wanted this…” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I do.”

You felt like crumbling down inside. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Miguel’s eyes met yours. “I am.”

“Then…”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been telling myself I’m worthy of a second chance for a long time. I tell that to myself every single day,” he paused momentarily to place a large hand on your belly. “But maybe I am wrong. I’ll mess this up, too.”

Your hand came to rest atop his and you offered a kind smile. “You won’t. You’re still healing. You need—”

All of a sudden both hands came to grip your arms and that’s when you saw panic splattered across his face.

“You don’t get it! I can’t lose you,” he said, eyes darting from your face to your belly. “I do all of this, because I owe an unrepayable debt. My mistake cost the lives of so many. And I’m being selfish again…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You suddenly said, breaking free from his grip. “Why do you think I chose to be with you? To build a family with you? You’re the most honourable person I know,” you added, not able to hold back a few tears. “Yes, you made a mistake,” his face hardened. “But you paid for it. You paid the highest price.”

He was getting ready to interrupt you, but you raised your hand. “You’re going to be a father again and don’t have to forget her. She lives in you and in all that you do.”

“What would I do without you?” he finally spoke.

You chuckled, placing the softed kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’d probably set camp here in this room, and live the rest of your lives as a hermit.”

Miguel silently glared at you and when he got down on one knee, you felt all the love and adoration for him crashing down on you.

“You’re going to have an amazing mother,” he whispered softly before placing a kiss over your shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his thick brown hair before pressing the side if his face flat against your belly. “And you’ll the best father.”

[greynatomy]

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment with all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need you for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Serving Up Some Chemistry | OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: A quirky YouTube host invites rising stars Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri for a BBQ episode in honor of the Austin GP. Amidst hilarious banter and messy sauce spills, she and Oscar discover an unexpectedly adorable connection.

OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Surprise! 🚨 In honour of the Austin GP, we’ve got a special episode coming your way featuring none other than Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri! 🤠🍖

We’ll be trying some Texas BBQ and answering your questions—so drop them below! 👇 Let’s see if Oscar can handle the heat and if Lando can manage not to spill sauce on everything. 😆

Comments:

landonorris:

Can’t wait! Hoping I won’t embarrass myself too much. 😅

oscarpiastri:

Super excited for this! BBQ and questions? Sounds like a great time!

user1:

This is going to be epic! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar together!

user2:

OMG, the BBQ challenge is going to be hilarious! 😂

user3:

I’m ready for all the chaos that’s about to unfold!

user4:

Y/N, you’re going to have the best time! Can’t wait for this episode!

user5:

Excited to see how Oscar handles the heat! He better be ready!

user6:

Lando’s going to spill sauce everywhere, I can feel it! 😂

user7:

This is the best surprise ever! Bring on the BBQ!

user8:

The chemistry is going to be so fun to watch!

user9:

I just know this is going to be a classic episode!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

The episode is finally OUT! 🎉 Had the best time with landonorris and oscarpiastri—thank you both for being such great sports and handling the BBQ challenge like pros! 🤠🍖

Hope you all enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed making it! Check it out on the channel now. 🙌

Comments:

oscarpiastri:

Had a great time! Thanks for having us, I’ll definitely be ready for round two. Maybe with less BBQ sauce next time? 😅

landonorris:

It was a blast! I’m still recovering from the sauce overload, but we’ll be back for sure! I’ll even bring an extra shirt 😂

user10:

They need to come back! That was the best thing I’ve ever watched!

user11:

The way Oscar was smiling the whole time—he’s definitely down for round two!

user12:

Lando being the messiest eater while Oscar just tries to survive? ICONIC.

user13:

The episode was pure gold! You three had the best energy!

user14:

Lando’s laugh is contagious! I was cracking up the whole time! 😂

user15:

Oscar was a whole mood trying to keep it together while eating BBQ! I need more of this trio ASAP!

user16:

The chaos, the laughs, the flirting—it was EVERYTHING! 😍

user17:

OMG, Oscar looked like he was about to faint when he first saw yourusername! He was so smitten. 😍

user18:

I can’t with how Oscar turned bright red when yourusername wiped the BBQ sauce off his chin! That was the cutest moment ever! 

user19:

Lando’s commentary had me in stitches! “Oscar, try not to drown in her eyes while you eat!” 😂

user20:

Their chemistry was insane! Every awkward pause just made it more adorable. I can't stop replaying it in my head!

user21:

“Can I get a little help with this sauce?” — Oscar was serving vulnerable and I am HERE for it! So smooth, Oscar! 😏

user22:

Lando saying, “Don’t get lost in her eyes while you’re eating, or I’ll have to save you,” was the best! He’s such a mess! 😂

user23:

The way Oscar shyly laughed at yourusername’s comments made my heart do flips! Can they just date already?

user24:

Their little glances and smiles were everything! I felt like I was watching a cute love story unfold right in front of me!

user25:

When yourusername asked, “Do you usually bring this much heat to a BBQ?” I was like, “Okay, that was smooth!” Oscar was totally flustered!

user26:

Honestly, the way they interacted was pure magic. They could literally sell me anything with that energy!

user27:

Lando is just a whole mood, trying to get Oscar to spill his secrets while keeping it light and funny! This was chaotic perfection!

user28:

I’m still thinking about how cute they were. Oscar’s shy reactions paired with yourusername’s playful teasing were too much to handle!

user29:

This episode was everything! I can’t stop thinking about how sweet their interactions were. I need more!

user30:

Their little glances and soft smiles were everything. Oscar’s flustered reactions were so endearing. ❤️

user31:

I can’t believe how much fun that was to watch! Lando being a mess and Oscar being adorable? What a combo!

user32:

I need behind-the-scenes footage ASAP! Their interactions were too cute to miss!

user33:

This episode was a masterpiece. Their dynamic felt so genuine. I need more content of Oscar and yourusername together!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Race day vibes! 🏎️💨 Thrilled to be at the Austin Grand Prix and feel the energy in the air! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar out on the track today! Let’s go, papaya boys! 🍊🏁

Comments:

landonorris:

Let’s go! Can’t wait to see you there! 🏁

oscarpiastri:

Excited to have you cheering us on! Let’s make it a day to remember! 😄

user34:

Okay, but wearing his number and posing in his car? Is this a thing now?

user35:

I’m not saying you’re dating, but I’m not NOT saying it either! The signs are all there!

user36:

She’s literally living the dream! Can we talk about how adorable they’d be together?

user37:

Her rocking the 81 cap is giving major “I’m totally rooting for my crush” energy!

user38:

They better have some cute moments on the track today! I need content!

user39:

If she doesn’t end up dating Oscar after this, I’m going to be seriously disappointed. 😩

user40:

I see the chemistry, and I’m here for it! Can we get some couple content, please?

user41:

I bet Oscar’s heart is racing just as fast as the cars right now!

user42:

Can we please get some updates on this? I’m invested!

user43:

If they don’t end up together after this GP, I’m throwing a fit! The chemistry is undeniable!

user44:

I’m shipping them so hard right now! Someone make it happen!

user45:

All I’m saying is if I was in her position, I’d definitely be flirting with Oscar!

user46:

Wait, is she wearing Oscar’s number? 🤔👀 Something’s brewing here!

user4:

If they don’t end up together after this, I’m throwing hands! They’re practically destined to be!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Nothing going on, just a shit ton of editing! 🎬✨ Can’t wait for you all to see the latest episode—it’s a tell-all with some juicy insights you won’t want to miss! Stay tuned! 🙌

Comments:

landonorris:

Oscar’s been whining about the new episode for days now. 😂 You’d think it’s his favorite show!

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I wasn’t whining! I was… politely asking. 😅

 ↪yourusername:

Oh really? I had no idea you were such a fan. I’ll try to make this episode extra special for you. 😉

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I already know it’ll be perfect, especially with your editing skills. 😄

 ↪charles_leclerc:

Oscar, you seem a little too excited about this episode. 😏

 ↪georgerussell63:

He's definitely excited. I’ve never seen someone so eager for an episode! 😂

user48:

Their banter is so cute! I can’t get over how sweet they are! 🥹💕

user49:

Oscar acting all shy is everything! They definitely have something special!

user50:

The way Y/n teases him? Major couple vibes! 😍

user51:

Lando just casually exposing Oscar's crush on Y/n is iconic!

user52:

I’m here for all the fluffy interactions! They need to get together already!

user53:

I can’t be the only one who sees the heart eyes Oscar has for her, right?

user54:

Oscar trying to play it cool but failing is the cutest thing ever!

user55:

The way Oscar and Y/n interact is giving me life! They are too cute! 😍

user56:

Oscar whining for the episode?? Yeah, they’re definitely crushing on each other.

user57:

The subtle flirting though?? I am obsessed. 🥺

user58:

They’re adorable! This is what I live for! Oscar is so soft when it comes to her! 💖

user59:

If they’re not dating after this, I’m going to be devastated. The chemistry is unreal!

user60:

Oscar’s got heart eyes for her, 100%! I’m here for the rom-com energy! 🍿

Instagram Post by oscarpiastri:

Not exactly the result we wanted today, but the team worked hard and I’m proud of the effort we put in. We’ll come back stronger next race. 💪 Thanks for all the support as always! Onwards and upwards. ✌️

Comments:

user61:

Oscar really thought he could sneak in that last photo like we wouldn’t notice… boy, we SEE you! 👀

user62:

Hold up. That last picture. Who’s holding your hand, sir? We need answers. 😳

user63:

Forget the race, who’s the mystery girl?! Man’s out here soft-launching a whole relationship!

user64:

Oscar: “We’ll get 'em next race!”

Also Oscar: casually holding hands with someone and trying to act like it’s no big deal. 🧐

user65:

You really thought we wouldn’t zoom in on that third photo? The fandom is about to explode!

user66:

Me pretending to care about race results while I’m over here like 👁️👄👁️ over that hand-holding pic.

user67:

Okay, but real talk… is that Y/n? Because I’m about to lose it if it is!

user68:

Oscar: "Tough race."

Everyone: "YEAH BUT WHO’S THE GIRL?"

user69:

Man, not you sneaking in a whole mystery date at the end. My detective skills are about to activate. 🔍

user70:

Is this Oscar’s way of lowkey announcing a relationship, or are we all collectively losing our minds?

user71:

Bro, you can’t just drop this and walk away like we’re not going to dissect every pixel of that picture. 😂

user72:

If that’s Y/n holding his hand, I’m officially shipping this HARD. 😍

user73:

Is that… Y/n?? Did Oscar just soft launch a relationship?? 😳

user74:

Me: focusing on the race results

Also me: WHO is he holding hands with?!

user75:

Nah, Oscar, you can't just sneak in a soft launch and think we wouldn’t notice! 😭

user76:

This race was cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Oscar’s got a GIRL?!

user77:

Whoever is holding Oscar's hand, I hope she knows how lucky she is. But also... IS IT Y/N?! 🥺

Instagram Post by formula1gossip:

Spotted in the paddock! 👀 Looks like Oscar Piastri and YouTuber/host yourusername are more than just friends—caught sharing a kiss! 💋 Could this be the F1 romance we didn’t see coming? Fans, what are your thoughts? Is this the grid's new power couple? 🔥

Comments:

user78:

OH MY GOD I WASN’T READY FOR THIS TODAY!! 😱😍

user79:

STOP. OSCAR AND Y/N ARE ACTUALLY A THING?!? THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! 🚨🚨🚨

user80:

I knew it! I KNEW IT. The way he’s been looking at her in every interview was a dead giveaway. 🥲

user81:

This is so cute but also low-key creepy? Like, let them have their privacy. 😬

user82:

Nah, this was not on my 2024 F1 Bingo card but I’m HERE for it!! Oscar really said, “plot twist.” 🥵

user83:

Forget the race drama, THIS is what we’re all here for. 😂

user84:

I don’t know if I should be happy for them or freak out that the internet is creeping on their private moment. 😳

user85:

Okay but... am I the only one who feels kinda bad for them? Let them live! 😕

user86:

Man really went from “awkwardly flirting” to “straight-up kissing in the paddock.” Piastri’s got game! 💀

user87:

I need to know WHO took this picture because they deserve a raise for breaking the internet. 😭

user88:

Wait, Oscar really went from sneaky hand-holding to THIS?! Boy moves fast! 🤯

user89:

Okay, but if this is real, Oscar and Y/n are the cutest thing to happen to F1 since... well, ever. 😍

user90:

I’m dying at the fact that Oscar was so shy and now he’s out here making public moves. My heart can’t take it!! 🥺

user91:

This is cute and all, but also kinda invasive? Give them some space, people! 😕

user92:

How do I go from “aww, so cute” to “this is kind of a privacy issue” in one second? 😅

user93:

The way Oscar went from 0 to 100 real quick. Y/n must’ve unlocked his final form or something. 😏

user94:

Did we just collectively witness a romcom happening in real life? Oscar and Y/n, you have my full support. 🙌

user95:

Half of me is SCREAMING, and the other half is like, "y’all, this is kinda creepy… let them live in peace!”

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Well... cat’s officially out of the bag. 🐱💫

Comments:

landonorris:

FINALLY!! I’ve been keeping this secret for so long, I deserve an award for acting like it’s not disgustingly adorable every single day. 😩

 ↪yourusername:

Aww, poor Lando. We’ll get you a medal. Maybe one for “Best Third Wheel” too? 🥇😏

 ↪oscarpiastri:

Best third wheel and also the loudest complainer. You’ll be fine, mate. 😂

 ↪landonorris:

I WILL NEVER BE FINE. 😤

user96:

WAIT. DID HE JUST GIVE HER A FOREHEAD KISS?! I’m dead. 🥲

user97:

Oscar, can you fight?! Because Y/n is everyone’s crush now and you’ve got competition, buddy! 😤

user98:

Oscar is living the romcom life we all deserve. We need a movie adaptation of this STAT. 🎬

user99:

This was not on my 2024 bingo card but I’m HERE FOR IT. Y’all are too cute!! 🥹

user100:

Okay but… where’s the wedding invite? I need to start shopping. 💀

user101:

Oscar, how does it feel being THE luckiest guy in the paddock? 🧐 Asking for a friend.

user102:

Not gonna lie, I’m obsessed with this. Y’all are literally relationship goals. 🥰

user103:

Oscar out here being all shy and adorable while soft-launching the cutest relationship of the year. We’re NOT worthy. 😩

user104:

I swear if Oscar ever messes this up, the entire fandom is ready to throw hands. WE GOT YOU, Y/N! 👊

user105:

They’re that couple. You know, the ones who are so cute you can’t even be mad about it. 💕

user106:

If this was a movie, the soundtrack would just be us screaming "I ship it" on repeat. 🎶

user107:

Lando’s the third wheel and we love it.

user108:

Oscar and Y/n hard-launching their love while Lando cries in the background... the content we never knew we needed. 😭💀

oscarpiastri:

Couldn’t be happier to share this with you. 💛

 ↪yourusername:

Same. I love you, Oscar. 💫

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I love you too, always. 💛

 ↪user109:

Did they just say “I love you” in the comments?!? I’m unwell, this is TOO CUTE. 😭💖

 ↪user110:

Oscar dropping “I love you” casually like we’re not all DYING right now. 💀

 ↪user111:

Every time I see them interact, I lose more faith in my ability to ever find love this cute. 😩

 ↪user112:

Oscar and Y/n: existing

Us: screaming, sobbing, throwing up, planning the wedding. 🥳

[hysteria-things]

do a fanfic with leg humping, i beg you, ON MY KNEES 🙏🙏🙏 and with hand kink😜 i don’t care about the back story, i don’t care if it’s matt or chris just do it please 😞

RESTART

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you couldn’t care about the movie playing, and matt has an idea to keep you occupied. however, you’re not prepared for the punishment when you don’t listen.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, thigh riding, hand kink, edging, overstimulation, degradation, spanking, AFTERCARE

SAFE WORD IS MENTIONED BUT NOT USED!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,021

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is kind of intense??? but i like it??? is that crazy???

sorry for no post yesterday. i’ve been having a not so good week and was exhausted/unmotivated when i got home :(

BUT enjoy reading anon! this one was a little hard, i hope i did okay :)

you’ve always been fascinated by your boyfriend’s hands. how much bigger they are than yours, how his rings fit perfectly on his fingers; it’s no coincidence that he wears them on only his pointer and pinky.

the both of you sit on the couch. you guys just started watching a movie, but you couldn’t care less about it.

you wished matt’s hands were roaming your body right now, possibly holding your throat as he rails into you. maybe even—

“are you even watching?” he says, snapping you out of your x-rated thoughts.

“yeah.” you lie.

he can tell in an instant that you’re bullshitting him. “you know i don’t like liars.”

“but—”

“get up and strip.”

you blink at him before getting up, slowly taking off your layers until you’re fully nude. he puts his foot on the coffee table across from where he’s seated.

“sit on my thigh.” he smirks. “and ride it.”

you stare blankly at him, wondering where this burst of confidence came from. however, you’re turned on nonetheless.

he chuckles. “i could read you like a book, y/n. you think i don’t know you were thinking about me fucking you right now?”

you blush and he continues. “i want to watch the movie. it’s either my thigh or nothing, sweetheart.”

you walk over hesitantly to straddle his thigh. you feel so exposed since he still has his clothes on.

his veiny hands caress your sides as you start to rock your hips. you can’t help but to hold them, the warmth feeling nice on your cold ones.

matt’s chin rests on your shoulder so he can still watch the movie in front of him. you moan and shudder when you feel the fabric on his jeans hit the right spot on your clit.

the pressure feels so good, your moans growing louder each time you roll your hips.

he slaps your ass, making you yelp and jolt. “shh.” he shushes. “i can’t hear what they’re saying.”

you whine in protest but nod anyway. the voices on the TV are muffled for you. the only focus is you getting off on your boyfriend’s thigh. you’re so needy and can’t help but look pathetic because of it.

“matt.” you whisper in your ear, the warm feeling in your stomach starting to build. “i-i’m gonna cum.”

“no.” he starts. “hold it until the movie’s done. the movie you wanted to watch in the first place.

“please ma—”

he slaps your ass again to shut you up. you moan loudly at the hit; enjoying it.

your hips get faster and start to tense. there’s no way you can hold it for that long.

“n-no matt y-you don’t understand,” you whine, feeling your cum start to drip down his leg.

“it’s… too late.” you pant, slowing down your hips until you stop. he tuts, taking the remote that’s next to him and pressing the replay button on the TV. he grabs your throat with those goddamn hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“i will restart this movie every time you cum without my permission, you understand me?”

matt had to restart the movie three times. every time you whimper an ‘i’m sorry’ into his ear, but it does nothing for him.

you’re sweating and overstimulated, and your pussy is swollen because of it. the inside of your thighs and his pants are soaked with your fluids, even the couch is messy. one of your buttcheeks are red and numb from the numerous times he spanked it.

you moan softly, your brain feeling fuzzy. you grind into his thigh still, but you start to become weak.

he takes the two fingers with no rings on them and shoves them into your mouth without warning. you gag at how deep they went.

“quiet. i want to hear,” he demands again.

you suck on his fingers and roll your eyes back. tear streaks stain your cheeks from the number of times you cried from pleasure.

“matt.” you muffle around his fingers. “it hurts.”

“that doesn’t sound like the safe word, love,” he says as he kisses your cheek.

he’s not wrong. yeah, it hurts, but it hurts too fucking good. you love being under matt’s control, even though something as intense as this is rare.

you start to slobber over his fingers. the feeling comes back, and you're surprised you have an orgasm left. you dig harder into his thigh and let out a sob.

“shh, it’s okay.” he soothes. “there’s only a few minutes left. you can hold it, yeah?”

your vision starts to fade, and matt removes his fingers from your mouth. you can’t moan anymore; only pant and whimper.

you’re not the only one that’s in pleasurable pain. matt’s been hard as fuck since this started, but right now he wants it all about you. not him.

the end credits start to play, and you sigh with relief. your last orgasm immediately washes over you. he wraps his arms around you as you shake uncontrollably in his grasp. “there you go.” he says as you cum for the fourth time on his thigh.

you collapse on top of his chest, ‘thank you’ leaving your lips over and over again.

“come on,” he says, swiftly picking you up and walking to the bathroom.

he runs a hot bath and gently places you in it. he takes some water to wash the tears away on your face.

matt whispers praises to you as he washes your hair. you stare at his face through tired eyes, admiring how he always takes care of you no matter what.

the way he moves his hands around your body to clean you up rubs you the right way.

after the bath, he carries you in a towel and lays you down softly on your shared bed. he goes over to the dresser and grabs a matching pajama set.

he carefully dresses you and puts you under the covers. he tucks you in, kissing your cheek when he realizes you fell asleep.

“goodnight, my beautiful girl,” he whispers in your ear, kissing you one last time.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[nhaaauyen]

is it casual now? ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

modern sev x reader au: after a shitty day at work, you go to the beach to release some stress, only for a certain coworker to show up.

series masterpost: floating wc: 4.2k author's note: everything that happened in this fic did actually happen with a girl I was seeing LMAOO (except for the kiss cause i was too shy) but i’ve been wanting to write an ode to this memory for so long! though the title was named after casual by chappell roan, i actually don't recommend you listen to it when you read this because this is anything but casual ~ My Song Recommendation

Sev: Why are you at the beach at 11PM? You: ? You: Why can't I be? Sev: Because it closes at 12am Sev: And you said before you don't go out past 11PM on workdays You: I didn't know you worked for the beach patrol Sev: Lol

You stare at your phone screen, watching the three message dots bounce back and forth. You know you're being an asshole, but you can't help the snappiness in your tone. Sevika never cared or talked to you outside of work before, so why does she suddenly care now?

The typing bubbles disappear and relief washes over you, but a small, masochistic part of you wishes she'd actually sent something.

Sev: Are you good?

The three-word question glares at you from the screen. 

Are you good? Absolutely not. 

But this is Sev, the woman who doesn't bother with greetings or a courtesy "How are you" despite working together for months. How do you answer a question that could unravel the emotions you're barely keeping at bay, especially to someone who's never asked before?

You: Yeah  You: I'll go soon so you don't have to stalk my location haha Sev: Alright

You stare at the tiny message bubble until the blue light stings your eyes. Finally, you shut off your phone and toss it onto your makeshift blanket.

The beach is eerily quiet save for the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the water and illuminating the foam as it rushes up the sand. You sit there as the incident at work replays in your mind for the hundredth time. Your head server's harsh words, the embarrassment of being scolded in public, the shame from how quick you were brought to tears - it all comes rushing back, making your chest tighten. 

The cool sand beneath your fingers grounds you somewhat and you inhale deeply, letting the briny scent of the ocean fill your lungs. 

A cool breeze picks up, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You shiver as you sit there, feeling small and vulnerable, and you can't help but wonder how you'll face everyone tomorrow. The thought makes your stomach churn, and you close your eyes, trying to shut out the world for just a little longer.

As you close your eyes, a new sound cuts through the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. The crunch of rubber tires over pebbles grows louder, and suddenly, a bright light washes over you. You squint, momentarily blinded by the harsh glare of headlights.

"You really had to make me search for you, Pagli?"

Your head whips around in shock, eyes wide as you see Sevika stepping out of her car. You scramble to your feet, brushing sand from your clothes.

"Sev? What are you— You didn't have to come here," you protest.

She approaches with a casual shrug. "Well, too bad, cause I was near here anyways. Had to make sure you weren't drowning or joining a beach cult."

You can't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. "A beach cult? Really?"

"Hey, you never know," Sevika retorts with a smirk. "I don’t know what you like to do late at night."

You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go home."

"Nah, I think I'll stick around," she says, plopping down on the sand next to where you were sitting. "Unless you've got some secret midnight rituals planned?"

You roll your eyes, but feel your resolve weakening. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," Sevika replies with a wink. "Now, are you gonna sit back down, or do I have to drag you?"

After a moment's hesitation, you sigh and lower yourself back onto the sand. "Fine, you win. But don't expect me to be good company."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sevika says softly, her tone gentler than before. "But I'm here if you want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need."

“I’m good.”  You replied.

“Fine with me.” 

As you sit in silence, Sevika reaches into her pocket and pulls out a joint. You can't help but shake your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

She glances at you, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Do you just have an unlimited source of that or something?"

Sevika just shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips as she places the joint between them. As she fumbles for her lighter, she catches you staring and pauses.

"Do you want some?" she offers casually.

You hesitate, fingers fidgeting in the sand. "No... uh, I never tried."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Serious?"

"Yeah," you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Sevika's expression softens slightly. "Well, Pagli, I'm in a sharing mood, so..."

You shake your head quickly. "Nah, I'm gonna embarrass myself. I don't know how to..."

"It's easy," she assures you. "Just inhale, hold it for a bit, and release."

You eye the joint warily. "Uh, shit... Yeah sure."

Instead of handing it over, Sevika brings the joint to her lips and lights it. You watch intently as she demonstrates, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she inhales. She holds it for a moment, then slowly exhales a stream of smoke into the night air.

Your eyes are fixed on her, taking in every detail of the process. There's something almost mesmerizing about the way the smoke curls from her lips, dissipating into the darkness.

Sevika turns to you, holding out the joint. "Your turn, if you want."

You hesitate, your heart racing a little. Part of you wants to refuse, to play it safe knowing that you wouldn’t risk humiliation in front of your coworker when you end up messing up, but another part of you was just completely over this day.

Slowly, you reach out and take the joint from her fingers, your skin brushing against hers for a brief moment.

You take the joint, bringing it to your lips with nervous anticipation. Trying to mimic Sevika's actions, you inhale deeply. Immediately, your eyes go wide as the smoke hits your lungs. You start coughing violently, your throat burning.

To your surprise, Sevika gently pats your back. "It's okay, Pagli! Damn. You just gotta practice some more."

As your coughing subsides, you realize this is the most Sevika has ever talked to you. It's oddly comforting, despite your embarrassment. You hand the joint back to her and she casually takes a puff, with her head leaning back slightly as she exhales.

"You're not cold?"

"No, why?" you ask, puzzled.

She gestures at your outfit. "Because you haven't changed out of your work uniform."

Instead of answering - because you know where that conversation would lead - you reach for the joint again. This time, you focus intently on mimicking Sevika's technique. You inhale, hold it for a moment, and exhale. There's still a slight cough, but it's significantly better than your first attempt.

"Hell yeah!" you exclaim, feeling a small surge of pride. "I sorta did it!"

Sevika gives you a half-grin that makes your heart skip a beat. "See? You're gonna be a pro soon." She pauses, her grin widening slightly. "But you're gonna get super hungry later at this rate."

Your eyes widen as realization hits you. "Oh fuck, you're right. I didn't bring any food," you say, a slight pout forming on your lips.

"I brought something," she offers, "but in exchange, you have to tell me what's going on."

You roll your eyes, you weren’t going to fall for that. "I can deal with it."

"Fine," she shrugs, "then no more." She makes a motion as if to put out the joint.

"What? I'm still practicing!" you protest. "What happened to trying to get me to the pro league?"

Sevika just laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm. "Sorry, there's an entry fee."

You sigh, knowing you're cornered. "Fine," you mutter, then barely above a whisper, add, "I fucked up bad at work today."

Her expression turns serious. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, you tucked a stray hair behind your ear and avoided eye contact. "There was this creepy guy at one of my tables. He kept specifically asking for random things like more napkins or refills, and I knew why he did that." You shudder slightly at the memory. "I wanted to switch with a male server, but we were too booked so I just tried to bear with it.  I didn’t think he would cross any lines since it looked like he was with family too."

Sevika listens intently as you continue, "It got too far when he kept making me uncomfortable, saying he would tip well if I gave him my number." Your hands clenched into fists in the sand. "So after I came back, I... I 'accidentally' spilled water on him."

You can't meet Sevika's eyes as you finish, "I knew it was unprofessional and petty, but I was so frustrated. After getting yelled at by the head server, it kind of hit me what I did."

As you fall silent, you feel a mix of shame and lingering anger. You wait anxiously for Sevika's response, afraid to see judgment in her eyes.

But Sevika's response catches you off guard. "He deserved it," she says firmly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Huh? But I made a mess because I couldn't keep my emotions in check. You know there are always going to be horrible customers..."

She cuts you off with a shake of her head. "Nah, he deserved it. It's a shame you couldn't stay to watch when I kicked him out and announced that he was trying to grope one of our servers in front of his entire family and the restaurant."

You stare at her incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. "No way? You actually did that?"

Sevika shrugs nonchalantly. "What's Silco gonna do? I'm the best general manager he's got." She pauses, a prideful glint in her eye. "Though our head server might need a bit of retraining."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Sev, the Sev, actually stood up for you. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you suddenly feel shy.

"Thank you... for that," you murmur. "It meant a lot."

She just nods in response, a comfortable silence falling between you. Sevika passes you the joint again, and this time when you take a hit, you manage to do it without coughing. 

"I did it!" you exclaim, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

"Look at you, you might get into the Olympics next." She teased.

The tension from earlier completely dissipated, and you can't help but feel a newfound appreciation for Sevika.

"Okay, you gotta slow down now. This is your first time," Sevika warns, pulling the joint away as you reach for it again.

"Nooo, give it," you whine, making a half-hearted grab for it.

She shakes her head firmly. "Nuh-uh." Sevika puts out the joint despite your protests.  Then, without warning, she announces, "I'm lying down."

"What?" you ask, confused by the sudden change.

Sevika doesn't respond, just leans back onto an apron acting as your beach blanket. After a moment's hesitation, you did the same. It's only now that you realize how close she is. You can see the rise and fall of her chest, steady and rhythmic.

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. "Do you hear that?" you murmur. "The waves sound amazing." A small giggle escapes your lips.

"It's hitting you now," Sevika observes, amusement coloring her voice.

"Shhh, Sev. Listen," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper.  If only you didn’t close your eyes at that moment, because then you would’ve seen the shy smile appear on her lips at the nickname that she only lets you use on her.

As you concentrate on the sound of the waves, you became aware that you're also following the pattern of Sevika's breathing. It's oddly comforting, this synchronicity between her, you, and the ocean.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you dare to look over at her. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she's staring at you with those stormy gray eyes that never seem to reveal anything. The intensity of her gaze sends a jolt through you, triggering an immediate panic.

You sit up abruptly, your heart racing. Sevika follows, concern etched on her previously relaxed face. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, I'm hungry," you blurt out, desperate for a distraction.

Sevika just laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Here, I’m glad I brought this," she says, reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a colorful bag of sour gummy worms, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet night.

The sight of the candy, so unexpectedly bright in contrast to Sevika's stoic character, makes you laugh. You watch as she pulls out a gummy worm, the candy stretching slightly before she bites into it. The casual act feels strangely intimate in this moment, and you find yourself transfixed by the movement of her jaw as she chews.

"Want one?" she asks, holding out the bag to you.

Your fingers brush against hers as you reach for a candy, sending another small shiver through you. As you pop the gummy worm into your mouth, the burst of sour flavor feels like a shock against your tongue.

While you devoured practically half the bag, Sevika stretches languidly before lying back down on the sand. You followed suit, turning to face her. This time, feeling way less sober than the beginning, you don't shy away from her gaze.

You notice one of her usually tucked fringes has come loose, falling softly across her forehead. Your fingers twitch with the urge to brush it back, but you manage to restrain yourself.

Sevika's eyes are fixed on you, her expression softer than you've ever seen it. "I'm tired," she mumbles, her voice low and slightly husky. "I want to sleep... this feels nice."

A dopey smile spreads across your face at the sight of her uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Do it," you encourage gently.

"Wake me up in a bit?" she asks, her eyelids already starting to droop.

"Of course," you assure her.

As Sevika's eyes close, you sit there, taking in the moment. You listened to the rhythm of her breathing mix with the sound of the waves and the refreshing sea breeze. 

Suddenly, Sevika makes a noise that's almost like a whine. "It's cold," she murmurs, not opening her eyes.

"Really?" you ask, surprised.

"Yeah," she confirms. Then, to your shock, she says, "Come here."

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika is draping her red jacket over both of you. The action brings you even closer to her, and your brain struggles to keep up with this new development.

You find yourself studying Sevika's features up close. Her nose, which you've always thought was cute but never dared to admit, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, and the scar that runs across her cheekbone.

The warmth of her body so close to yours, the scent of her cologne mingling with the salt air, the soft sound of her breathing - it all combined to create a moment so intimate and unexpected that you feel almost dizzy with it. You're acutely aware of every point where your body is almost, but not quite, touching hers.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure she must be able to hear it. But Sevika's breathing has evened out, suggesting she's drifting off to sleep. You lie there, barely daring to move, caught between the desire to savor this moment and the fear of disturbing her.

You find yourself caught in Sevika's gaze as her eyes slowly flutter open. The moonlight reflects in her dark irises, creating an almost ethereal effect. 

"What are you staring at?"

Your heart skips a beat. "You," you reply without thinking, then immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks.

A smirk plays at the corner of Sevika's lips. "Mmm... you're plotting my murder, right?"

You can't help but chuckle softly. "Haha, of course.  I’ve been waiting months for this moment.”

"Damn," she sighs dramatically, through her eyes sparkled with amusement. "At least I get a gorgeous view before my final moments."

The air between you suddenly feels charged. You fall silent, profoundly aware of every breath, every subtle movement. Sevika's hair has fallen across her face, obscuring part of her scar. Without really thinking about it, you reach out, gently tucking the errant strand behind her ear.

As you start to pull your hand back, Sevika's fingers wrap around your wrist. Her touch is gentle, a stark contrast to her usual brusque demeanor. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Don't," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft lapping of waves.

Sevika holds your hand gently, her calloused fingers tracing over yours with surprising tenderness. She examines each fingertip as if committing them to memory. Just as you're getting lost in the intimacy of the moment, she breaks the silence.

"You got tiny ass hands, Pagli.”

You blink, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Sevika bursts out laughing, the sound rich and wonderful. Her head tilts back, revealing a full set of stunning teeth. The sight momentarily captivates you, but you quickly recover, determined not to let her win this moment.

"You know, I was only trying to steal the gummies," you retort, trying to keep a straight face.

Her eyebrow arches challengingly. "Really? Come and get it then."

Before you know it, you're both wrestling on the makeshift blanket. Sand flies everywhere as you tussle, laughter filling the air. It's been so long since you've felt this carefree, this alive. Your worries from earlier seem like a distant memory now.

Somehow, you manage to gain the upper hand. You find yourself practically pinning Sevika down, your faces mere inches apart. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, catching the faint scent of weed. Your heart races, and for a moment, you're tempted to close that small distance between you.

Instead, you break the tension by snatching the bag of gummies from her grasp. "I win!" you declare triumphantly.

But even as you say it, the victory feels hollow. The gummy bag hangs limp in your hand as you watch Sevika accept defeat with surprising grace. She's still beneath you, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her eyes locked on yours.

You wish you could reach out and caress her face, trace the line of her scar, feel the softness of her skin again. The urge is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, unsure of how she'd react. The moment stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and possibilities.

Sevika pats the spot next to her, inviting you back. You settle in, acutely aware of her warmth beside you. Her eyes, dark and curious, search your face.

"What are you thinking about now, Pagli?" she asks softly.

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. "I want to play with your hair."

Immediately, heat rushes to your face. You're about to stammer an apology when Sevika takes your hand, guiding it to her hair. The silky softness surprises you, and you can't help but run your fingers through the strands.

Sevika's eyes flutter closed, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Encouraged, you begin to gently massage her scalp, marveling at how relaxed she seems.

"What does Pagli mean?" you whisper.

A smirk plays on Sevika's lips. "Crazy girl," she replies without skipping a beat.

"Huh?!" You're not sure whether to be offended or flattered.

"It's because you do crazy and bold things. I like that about you."

Your stomach flutters with warmth at the admission. Sevika leans into your touch, murmuring, "That feels amazing."

Gradually, she shifts closer, until her head is tucked against your chest. You can feel the steady pace of her breathing, the warmth of her body against yours. Without really meaning to, you find yourselves practically spooning.

As you stretch out, your feet brush against her shins, and you realize just how much taller she is. It's oddly endearing, this contrast between you. Your fingers continue their gentle exploration of her hair, occasionally trailing down to trace the curve of her neck.

The moment feels soft, intimate in a way you never expected. The sound of waves provides a soothing backdrop, and the moonlight casts a gentle glow over you both. You're struck by how vulnerable Sevika looks like this, all her usual sharp edges softened.

You want to say something, to put into words the feeling blooming in your chest, but you're afraid to break the spell. So instead, you hold her close, savoring the unexpected comfort of this moment, wondering how something so beautiful could arise from such a difficult day.

You keep replaying the moment when Sevika's strong arms practically dragged you into cuddling her. The memory sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, slowly rubbing circles on her back. You hear her sigh contentedly, the sound filling you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the physical closeness.

Just as you're sinking deeper into this blissful moment, bright white lights suddenly flash on, startling you both. A loud voice booms across the beach: "THE BEACH IS CLOSING IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO THE PARKING LOT."

"Urghhh," you groan.  You instinctively buried your face into your hands.

Sevika's response is even more vocal - she lets out a louder, more dramatic groan that vibrates through her chest and into yours. The sound is so unexpected and so uncharacteristically cute, that you can't help but laugh.

Your laughter seems to break the spell. Sevika lifts her head, her hair mussed from your earlier attentions, and gives you a mock glare that's softened by the smile tugging at her lips.

"What's so funny, Pagli?" she asks, her voice husky with lingering sleep.

"Nothing," you say, still chuckling. "Just... I never pegged you for a whiner."

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she grumbles.

You lean in close to Sevika, whispering conspiratorially, "They can't kick us off if we hide in the sand, right?"

"Yeah, or if we stay really still," she adds, barely suppressing a grin.

You both freeze comically, trying to blend in with the beach around you. But as the final announcement blares across the sand, you finally admit defeat.

As you both reluctantly start to gather your things, you can't help but steal glances at Sevika. Her hair is tousled, her clothes rumpled from lying on the beach, and there's a softness to her expression that you've never seen before. It makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

Just as you're about to lead the way back, Sevika suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you back towards her. Before you can react, her lips are on yours.

You were suddenly frozen, till your brain practically yelled, Fucking kiss the hot girl back you dumbass! Your hand immediately slides into her hair, and you respond back to the kiss with the same ferocity.  All the tension that's been building between you tonight finally finds its release. Her lips are softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a passion that takes your breath away.  

But the moment was short-lived when it was cut short by another blaring announcement. 

Sevika breaks away, growling, "I'm going to break that speaker."

You can't help but laugh at her annoyance, the sound bubbling up from the happiness overflowing in your chest. You lean in, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "C'mon, we can continue this later."

Sevika nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips. She has that look on her face, that is just so content and full of adoration that your legs practically felt like jelly.

“Race you back to the car, loser has to buy dinner!” You yell as you spirit across the sand.  

You were fortunate enough to get a head start because once Sev realized what was happening, you could already see a blur of her movement closing the distance through the corner of your eye. Your hair whipped wildly in the wind along your combined unadulterated, giddy laughters echoing in the night air.  

With her athletic build, she easily caught up to you but instead of surpassing you, her hand found yours. Her fingers intertwined with yours, fitting perfectly. The warmth of her palm against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You two slowed your pace into an amble, the sound of waves fading behind you. Every so often, you steal glances at Sevika, still hardly believing this night has been real.

When her car comes into view, Sevika gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You turn to look at her, finding her eyes already on you, soft and full of something that makes you unsure of whether this moment was a dream or not.

Sevika tugs you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We should do this again sometime," she murmurs against your skin. "Minus the getting kicked off the beach part."

You chuckle at the joke and tuck your head into her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Thump. Thump.

"Thank you," she says quietly, her voice a small murmur above your ear, "for making a shitty day end beautifully."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. 

"Thank you for finding me."

[essiemclaren]

watch me win

in which lando was paid to fake date y/n!

pairing: mean!lando x reader

tw: super mean/rude lando and ofc angst

day 2

lando's text with the bros

lando's text with the reader

Life is unpredictable, but for Lando Norris, there was always a backup plan. He didn’t need to waste time stressing over what could go wrong; his mind was always three steps ahead. Quick moves, sharp thinking—that’s how he kept control. So, when he asked her out for Saturday, it wasn’t because he liked her. Far from it. He didn’t even find her interesting enough to care. She wasn’t some elusive beauty that had him tongue-tied. No, Lando asked her out because he was helping a buddy out, someone too spineless to handle their own situation. She was a tool, a temporary convenience to get what he needed.

Right after their day 1 of meeting, Lando... Oh, Lando instantly knew the way she clung to every word he said, the desperate way she hung on to each fleeting moment of attention—Lando could practically see it. She was that type, the one who’d find validation in any scrap of it, always eager to be the center of someone’s universe. It wasn’t even a challenge; she was a walking cliché, all wide eyes and innocent smiles, pretending she was so much more than the attention-seeker she really was. And Lando? He was just playing along, a momentary distraction, a little fun to help out his friend.

Nothing personal.

She wasn’t anything special—just someone who’d fall for the smallest gestures, starved for a taste of something that made her feel wanted. Lando didn’t mind giving her that. He knew she'd eat it up, desperate for it, clinging to the idea that this meaningless gesture somehow meant something more.

And for day 2? Since he asked her out for Saturday, he’d get a brand new motorbike—a sleek, custom bike, the kind that screamed luxury and power. Because why not take advantage of the situation, turning a simple play into something even more valuable than her fleeting attention?

Saturday

lando's text with the reader

lando's text with the bros

lando's post on x/twitter

After the whole thing was over, Lando leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he replayed the night in his head. Did he regret it? Not for a second. She missed her precious dinner party, but that wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t care less. Her disappointment was just a footnote in his evening, barely worth a second thought. What mattered was the new ride waiting for him—shiny, powerful, and all his. He’d played the game, entertained her for a bit, and now he had what he wanted.

He didn’t regret a thing. Not for a second.

--

a/n: Hey everyone! I’m sorry this chapter is shorter than usual – I’ve been super busy, but I hope you understand! I really enjoyed writing this part and I hope you did too. I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday break! Please let me know what you think about this chapter – your feedback means a lot. Again, happy holidays, take care, and I’ll be back soon! xx

-essie the elf 🎄

taglist: @5sospenguinqueen @bluethperson @mayusaatma @mountvesuvu @styl1shl1v @hotgirlslikemax @creamsteam3 @kravitswhore @issi-loves-dynamic @llando4norris @sunlithearts @osclerc @hurtblossom @miiaex @somerandomf1fan @nataliambc @saachiep81 @ironmaiden1313 @s-awturn @c4tc0re @dannyleclerc @lexiecampos @loloekie @idontknowanythingsblog @grovelingmen @cchewhaz @linneaguriii

[carlyraejepsans]

would you be okay pitching ghost trick to someone who doesn’t rly know anything about it? i’ve heard of it before and that it’s good but idk why, and i don’t really get a lot out of advertisements or game descriptions

you know the toby-typical campiness in how he writes his characters in UTDR? over the top, extremely iconic, clearly working from preestablished tropes but doing his own special spin on them? put toby fox on acid and you've got shu takumi's writing style.

ghost trick isn't "just" good. ghost trick is the type of good that invents a whole new categorization for itself. ghost trick invented a situation to put little fictional bitches in that is so good, the most popular works in the tag are people from other fandoms being like "oh shit, let me put MY fictional bitches through in this situation as well"

it is one of the most hooking, satisfyingly delivered mysteries I've ever seen in a videogame. there is not a single second of the game that feels unutilised, everything pushes you forward in the mystery, and still it never feels choking. the way it handles tension and delivers its information is phenomenal. if this were a normal recommendation i would start talking about the gameplay and how fun and good it feels to play and how genuinely clever it is but you're not here for that, are you, so let me tell you the real selling point: every single character in this game is fucking insane. not a single one of them is normal. it's a noir. it's a parody. it's an animator's wet dream. my friend is playing the game on stream and they said his fiancée can tell when we're streaming because she can hear him doing his pathetic man voice on call.

listen to me. you will fall in love with sissel. i played One Shot earlier this year. i thought i was never going to find a game with a protagonist that crawled into my heart as much as niko. i was wrong. jesus christ i was wrong. you need to understand, this is a puzzle game. once you know the answers that's it for the gameplay. the replay value is extremely low. I have replayed it 5 times in three weeks just to make the wrong choices and watch what sissel says and quips about it. he's my guy. i need to hold his face in my hands. you will see his fuckass red suit, you will see his fuckass banana hair, you willl see his goofy little smile and his dirk strider ass sunglasses and you will whimper like a DOG because you miss him so much. i am missing him right now as we speak. fuck.

play ghost trick.

[favefandomimagines]

All Of The Girls You Loved Before (j.b)

Summary: being long distance in a high profile relationship definitely has its downsides

AN: this is in the same universe as my other Joe Burrow fic! Maybe I’ll write more for the obx actress!reader x Joe Burrow

Y/N shifted on the couch, her script spread across her lap, but her mind wasn’t on the scene. It hadn’t been all day. She reread the same line three times before groaning and tossing the script aside. The tension with Joe had consumed her thoughts since their fight.

Their phone calls had been strained lately, and she had chalked it up to the Bengals' rough season. Joe didn’t talk much about his struggles, but she could sense them in his clipped tone and the way he avoided certain questions. She’d known dating an NFL quarterback would come with unique challenges, but she hadn’t anticipated how isolating it would feel when he withdrew.

The fight two nights ago still stung.

They had started the call with light conversation, her asking about practice and him asking about her day on set. But as usual, his mood shifted.

“Another tough day?” she asked gently when he grew quiet.

“Something like that,” Joe muttered.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

The curt response stung, but she tried to push through. “Joe, you know you can tell me anything, right? I want to be here for you.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Y/N,” he snapped.

She blinked, caught off guard. His tone was sharp, harsher than she’d ever heard from him before.

“Okay,” she said, her voice carefully measured. “But you can’t keep shutting me out. If you’re frustrated, don’t take it out on me.”

Joe let out a frustrated breath. “I’m not taking it out on you. Why do you always think everything’s about you?”

The words hit like a slap.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice rising.

“You heard me,” Joe replied, his tone defensive now. “I’m allowed to have a bad day without you making it worse.”

She stood up, pacing her small living room as she gripped the phone tighter. “Making it worse? Are you serious right now? Joe, I’ve been nothing but supportive, but I’m not going to sit here and let you treat me like I’m part of the problem!”

“I’m not treating you like anything!”

“Yes, you are!” she shouted. “And you know what? Maybe I’ll stop asking how you’re doing. Maybe I’ll stop caring, since it’s so damn inconvenient for you.”

Joe went silent for a moment. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I have a right to be! Call me back when you’re ready to act like a grown-up.”

She hung up before he could respond, her chest heaving.

Now, days later, she replayed the fight over and over. Was she dramatic? She didn’t think so. She had only wanted to help, to understand what he was going through. But the way he spoke to her… it wasn’t okay.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and her heart jumped. It wasn’t Joe. Just her friend Madelyn texting about plans for the weekend. Y/N sighed, her chest tightening with disappointment.

She missed him. Despite everything, she missed the way he made her laugh when they were together, the way he’d send her silly memes in the middle of the day, the way he’d whisper ‘goodnight, gorgeous’ before falling asleep on the phone with her.

But she wasn’t going to chase after him. He needed to meet her halfway.

As she stared at her phone, willing it to light up with his name, she wondered if their relationship could weather the storm they were in—or if it was already too late.

||

Y/N sat curled up on the couch in her trailer, a blanket draped over her legs. Filming had wrapped earlier than usual, and instead of heading out with her Outer Banks castmates for dinner, she had opted to spend the evening alone. She had barely spoken to Joe since their argument, and the weight of their silence was beginning to feel unbearable.

She opened Instagram to distract herself, scrolling mindlessly through her feed. Fan accounts, cast photos, and behind-the-scenes snapshots blurred together until her thumb froze over a post.

A drama account she didn’t even follow had posted a photo of Joe standing outside a restaurant.

Her breath hitched as she processed the image. There he was, unmistakably Joe, in his signature black hoodie and jeans. Next to him stood his ex-girlfriend. The caption read:

Spotted: Joe Burrow reconnecting with his ex outside a Cincinnati hotspot. Old flames reigniting?

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

The photo wasn’t damning in itself—Joe was standing a few feet away from his ex, his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, his posture casual. But the sight of them together, even in such a neutral context, was enough to ignite the insecurities she had been suppressing since the beginning of their relationship.

Joe’s ex had been part of his life during a time when everything seemed to be falling into place for him—his Heisman-winning season at LSU, his rise to fame, his transition to the NFL. Y/N had always felt like a footnote in comparison to someone who had been there for the “glory days.”

She opened the comments, against her better judgment.

They look so good together.

I knew it! He and Y/N didn’t seem like a good match.

Y/N could never compare to her.

Her heart twisted painfully as she locked her phone and set it down beside her. For a moment, she tried to rationalize it. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe—

Her thoughts spiraled as doubt crept in. Joe hadn’t called her since their fight. He hadn’t tried to make amends or even check in. What if he had gone to his ex for comfort? What if he missed the simplicity of a relationship that wasn’t long-distance and riddled with the challenges of their demanding careers?

She picked up her phone again, staring at his contact name.

“Just call him,” she muttered to herself.

But she didn’t.

Y/N hated how the fight had left things between them. She hated how the silence had stretched into days. But most of all, she hated how vulnerable the photo made her feel. This wasn’t her—jealousy wasn’t an emotion she wore well. She prided herself on being confident and independent, on trusting Joe and the bond they had built.

Still, the photo lingered in her mind like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them together, and the doubts whispered louder.

She poured herself a glass of wine and sank deeper into the couch, replaying the past six months in her mind. Joe had never given her a reason to doubt him before. He was loyal and grounded, far from the egotistical superstar he could easily have become. But the distance between them—and the way he had pulled away after their fight—left her questioning everything.

Hours passed, and by the time Y/N went to bed, her resolve was firm.

If Joe wanted to explain himself, he’d have to be the one to reach out.

||

Y/N was sitting at her kitchen counter, sipping her second cup of coffee and scrolling aimlessly through her phone, when it buzzed. The name on the screen sent her heart lurching: Joe.

For a moment, she stared at it, debating whether to answer. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what he had to say—or if she wanted to. But the call persisted, and with a deep breath, she swiped to answer.

“Hey,” she said, her voice cool, but betraying a tinge of nerves.

“Hey,” Joe replied softly. His tone was different, gentler, like he knew he had some explaining to do.

An awkward silence stretched between them. Y/N didn’t know whether to start or let him speak first. She tapped her fingers against the countertop, waiting.

“I, uh, I figured you might’ve seen that photo,” Joe finally said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I saw it,” she replied tersely. “Kind of hard to avoid it when I’m being tagged in the comments every 30 seconds.”

Joe sighed. “I need you to know that whoever took that picture posted it without any context.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously. “Then give me the context.”

He hesitated for a moment, and she could hear him take a breath. “I was leaving a restaurant with Ja’Marr. We’d grabbed dinner after practice. As we were walking out, I ran into her. She was coming in. We said hi, and that was it.”

“That was it?”

“Yeah. That was it. I didn’t even stay to talk—I left right after.”

Y/N leaned back against her chair, her mind working through his words. The explanation made sense, and Joe didn’t sound defensive or evasive. But the sight of the photo had opened a wound she didn’t know was still there.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly after a moment.

“I thought about it,” Joe admitted. “But after our fight, I didn’t want to make things worse. I figured we needed some space, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Joe,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “She’s the one person I’ve always been insecure about. And then I see a picture of you with her, and you don’t even think to give me a heads-up?”

“I get it,” Joe said quickly. “I should’ve told you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just trying to give you space.”

“Well, it didn’t help,” Y/N said bluntly, though her voice had softened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I swear to you, there’s nothing there. You’re the only one I want to be with, Y/N. You have to believe that.”

She sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “I do believe you. I just… I don’t like how things have been between us lately. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it’s like you’re a million miles away.”

“I know,” Joe said, his tone heavy with regret. “I’ve been caught up in my own head, and that’s not fair to you. You’ve been nothing but patient with me, and I’ve taken that for granted. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

His words melted away the last of her defenses. She missed him, missed the warmth in his voice when they talked, missed the way he made her feel like the only person in the world who mattered.

“I missed you,” she admitted softly.

“I missed you too,” Joe said, his voice tender. “So much. I hate how things have been between us. Can we fix this? I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” she assured him, a small smile creeping onto her face. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” he said quickly.

“No more shutting me out. Even when things are tough, I need you to let me in.”

“I promise,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I mean it.”

For the first time in days, Y/N felt a weight lift off her chest. Things weren’t perfect, but they were talking, and that was a start.

“Good,” she said, her voice lightening. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Joe.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “And I’m going to make it up to you. Just wait and see.”

As they ended the call, Y/N felt a spark of hope. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but neither of them wanted to give up on it—and for her, that was enough.

The weeks that followed their reconciliation were a whirlwind for both Y/N and Joe. They fell back into a rhythm of late-night phone calls and spontaneous FaceTime sessions, sharing moments from their hectic lives.

Joe’s mood had lightened, and while the Bengals' season still had its ups and downs, he made good on his promise to let Y/N in.

But as they navigated the challenges of distance, the world outside their relationship remained relentless. Y/N was on set in Charleston, finishing a long day of shooting, when she received a text from Madelyn.

Have you seen this?

Attached was a link to yet another drama account post. Y/N hesitated before clicking, already bracing herself for the worst.

The photo that loaded onto her screen showed her walking alongside her co-star Drew Starkey, both of them smiling under the warm South Carolina sun. The caption read:

Y/N spotted holding hands with Drew Starkey during an off-day in Charleston. Sparks flying on and off the screen?

Y/N blinked, scrolling down to the comments, her stomach sinking.

They look so cute together!

Drew > Joe, no offense.

Poor Joe. Long-distance never works anyway.

Her jaw clenched. She remembered the day the photo was taken—just two days ago. The cast had gone out for lunch as a group during a rare break in their filming schedule. Drew had walked beside her, but they hadn’t been holding hands. That part was completely fabricated.

She hated how easily people could twist something innocent into a narrative that didn’t exist.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Joe. She stared at the screen, her heart racing. Of course he’d seen it. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

Taking a deep breath, she answered. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Joe said, his tone calm but strained. “So, I saw the post.”

“I figured,” she said softly. “Joe, it’s not true. I wasn’t holding hands with Drew. That whole thing is made up.”

“I believe you,” he said quickly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I know how these accounts work. It’s just… I hate seeing stuff like that. You’re out there living your life, and I’m stuck here. It’s hard not to feel… I don’t know. Insecure, I guess.”

Her heart ached at his vulnerability. Joe was always so steady, so sure of himself, and hearing him admit to feeling insecure reminded her that even he had his moments of doubt.

“Joe,” she said gently, “you don’t have to feel that way. Drew is just a friend. That day, the whole cast went out. It wasn’t just him and I.”

��I know,” he said, though his voice was still tight. “It’s just hard, you know? I’m not there with you. I wouldn’t blame you if you… I don’t know, wanted to be with someone who’s actually around.”

“That’s not what I want,” she said firmly. “Joe, listen to me. I don’t care about anyone else. I care about you. Only you.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she could hear him let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “But you have to trust me. Just like I trust you.”

“I do,” he said softly. “I trust you, Y/N. I just hate that we’re apart so much. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. She hadn’t said them before, and neither had he. But now, after everything, it felt like the right moment.

“I love you, Joe,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves coursing through her.

The line went silent for a beat, and she held her breath.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice filled with warmth. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

She let out a soft laugh, relief washing over her. “You could never scare me off.”

They stayed on the phone for hours, the conversation shifting from deep confessions to light hearted banter. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt completely at ease, knowing that no rumor or distance could shake the foundation they had built together.

joeyb_9: Her y/nofficial

1M Likes

username: I knew him and Y/N were still together!!!

username: my parents

username: if he’s taken, I’m glad it’s by her

username: you know she’s the one when he posts about her! he never does this

y/nofficial: 🤍🤍

y/nofficial: Him joeyb_9

1M Likes

*limited comments*

madelyncline: um mom and dad?

madisonbailey: 🥹😍

username: I am rooting for them until the end of time

username: I may hate the bengals but I love Joe and Y/N together

joeyb_9: you’re it

username: SHUT TF UP

username: THEYRE TOO FUCKING CUTE

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

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[meazalykov]

the critic

lena oberdorf x commentator!reader

summary: when lena gets tagged in a video clip, she approaches you

before the cameras, before the viral clips, before the edits, before your voice became synonymous with women’s soccer commentary, there was your games itself.

you used to play, back in the day. soccer was your life—practices in the morning, matches on weekends, hours spent refining your craft, the feel of the ball at your feet something almost sacred. 

you had dreams, big ones, of playing at the highest level, maybe even for the national team. but that all came crashing down when a spinal injury took you out of the game. 

one bad fall, a rough tackle by three players at once in a crucial match, and suddenly, everything you had worked for was gone. 

the doctors said you were lucky to be walking and running again, but for a long time, it didn’t feel like luck. 

it felt like a curse, like soccer was ripped away from you when you were just starting to get your footing in the world of professional sports. 

lyon was close to signing you from your childhood club. however, that changed. the deal had to fail and so did your dream.

so you had to shift gears. you couldn’t play anymore, but you could talk about the game, share your insights, your passion, your love for it with the world. 

and, as it turned out, people loved listening to you. your analysis was sharp, your delivery honest, your humor was sweet, and soon enough, you became a well-known voice in women’s soccer commentary. 

you poured everything you couldn’t put on the pitch into your work, and it paid off.

now, here you are—2023, world cup, germany vs colombia. the stadium is electric, fans buzzing with anticipation. 

it’s your job to capture all of it, to bring the game to life for those watching at home. 

alongside you in the commentator’s booth is tyrell, your close friend and co-host for one of the biggest sports streaming sites in the world. 

you adjust your headset, eyes scanning the field as the camera pans over the players. 

"alright, tyrell, we’ve got quite the matchup today," you say, your voice carrying across the broadcast. 

"germany is looking to bounce back after their last game, and colombia has been on fire in their latest matches with caicedo. it’s anyone’s game today."

"no doubt," tyrell agrees. 

“but you know i’ve got my eye on germany’s midfield. lena oberdorf, she’s got a lot of weight on her shoulders in this one. one of the best defensive midfielders in the world is on the pitch tonight." he finishes. 

you nod, your gaze locking onto oberdorf as she moves across the pitch. 

she’s been a standout for years—strong, composed, a true force in the midfield. 

you’ve always admired the way she plays, the way she commands respect on the field as she will roughly stop any opponent attack. 

but today, something feels off. you’ve been watching her closely during the first half, and you can’t help but feel like she’s holding back.

"honestly," you start, pausing to gather your thoughts, "i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

there’s a brief silence as tyrell turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

it’s not often that you call out a player like that, especially someone as highly regarded as oberdorf. 

"really?" he asks, curious. "what do you think’s going on with her?"

you lean forward slightly, watching as the replay of germany’s midfield play rolls across your monitor. 

"she’s not playing with her usual aggression. oberdorf is known for her ability to dominate the midfield, to break up play and transition quickly. but today, she’s been hesitant. this can’t continue if they don’t want someone like caicedo to get in their box. oberdorf needs to press harder, get more involved in the attack. if she steps it up in the second half, she can make the difference that germany needs."

your words hang in the air for a moment before tyrell responds, and the conversation shifts back to the overall match. 

but you can’t shake the feeling that your comment will stir something up. 

sure enough, by the time the game is over—colombia managing to scrape by with a fantastic win—your phone is buzzing nonstop. 

social media is ablaze with the clip of you critiquing oberdorf, the internet having latched onto the rare moment where you offered up something negative about a player you so clearly admired.

fans of both you and lena are eating it up, dissecting your analysis, making memes, and some even suggesting you had ulterior motives. 

it doesn’t help that you’ve been vocal in the past about your respect for oberdorf’s game. 

and maybe, if you’re being totally honest, there’s more to it than just respect. 

you’ve followed her career closely, always a little more interested in her games than others. not that you’d ever admit to having a bit of a crush on her—not publicly, anyway.

across the city, at the team hotel, lena oberdorf is stretched out on her bed, headphones in, trying to decompress after the match. 

her body is exhausted, germany didn’t get the result they needed. her phone buzzes with notifications, but she ignores it for now, lost in her thoughts.

that is, until laura freigang walks in, a mischievous grin on her face and her phone in hand. 

"lena," she says, her voice sings, "it looks like someone’s got their eye on you."

lena sits up, raising an eyebrow. "what are you talking about?"

laura tosses her phone onto the bed, and lena catches it, her eyes narrowing as she watches the video that’s already queued up. 

it’s you, sitting in the commentator’s booth, talking about her. her. 

"honestly, i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

lena blinks, her mind processing the words. she’s used to hearing praise, especially from someone like you, who’s usually more positive in your analysis. 

but this? it feels different. not harsh, but… honest. like you know she could do better, and that, in a weird way, feels almost flattering.

"see?" laura says, flopping onto the bed next to her. 

"she noticed you. she expects more from you, lena."

lena rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. 

it’s no secret, at least among her teammates, that she’s always found you attractive. she’s mentioned it once or twice—half-joking, half-serious—how she watches your broadcasts not just for the analysis but because, well, you’re easy on the eyes. 

but she never thought it would go beyond that. you were based in new york city, worlds away from her, and probably didn’t even know she existed outside of your job.

but now? maybe things have changed.

"i don’t want to get your hopes up because it could’ve been a simple analysis but maybe this is your shot," laura adds, nudging lena with her elbow. 

"go for it. what’s the worst that could happen?"

lena hesitates, the idea forming in her mind. it’s bold, sure, but she’s never been one to shy away from taking risks. "yeah… maybe i will."

later that night, you’re sitting in the hotel bar, winding down after a long day of commentary in australia. 

the buzz from the viral clip still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re half-expecting to get some flak for it. but instead, it seems like people are more entertained by the whole thing than anything else. 

you take a sip of your drink, eyes scanning the room, when you hear a voice behind you.

"hey y/n-- I'm sorry, uh I hope i’m not interrupting."

you turn, and your breath catches in your throat for just a second. it’s lena oberdorf, standing right in front of you, looking a little nervous but still carrying that air of confidence she always has on the pitch.

how did she find you? maybe the german national team stayed nearby? i mean, you were told this was a popular bar in sydney.

however, why would lena go to a bar if she has to prepare for the important match against south korea?

"not at all," you manage, trying to keep your cool despite the sudden rush of nerves.

"what’s up?"

"i, uh, saw the clip," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. "the one where you talked about me."

you chuckle softly, feeling a slight flush in your cheeks. "yeah… i didn’t mean to come off too harsh. just being honest, you know?"

you didn’t know how to react, so you smile. no player has confronted you about your comments before. this is a first.

"no, i get it," she smiles, her eyes locking onto yours. 

"honesty’s good. i just… wanted to ask if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. maybe when you’re in germany next? i’d love to take you out." lena speaks in perfect english. 

you blink, surprised by the offer. of all the things you expected tonight, this wasn’t one of them. but looking at her now, her smile genuine and her eyes soft with hope, you can’t help but smile back.

"yeah," you say, heart racing just a little. "i’d like that."

you were a little older than her, older by two years, but she carried herself in a way that pulled you to her.

the world feels a little smaller, the distance between you and lena shrinking with a single conversation. 

you think that maybe you should critic her more often, kidding— of course.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more fics <3

[poguelandiarafe]

Sooo I just saw this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8FR5vPf/ tik tok, and it's stirring something in meeee...can you write about rafes inner turmoil, and how reader helps him with it? Love your writing sfm!!!

thank you so much lovely! this is such a good idea, i love it! i hope you like it <3 i’ve added the video above ^ (all credits to @petrovatbh on tiktok!!)

masterlist

————

rafe’s been home from morocco for just over three days and ever since he stepped through the door, the air has been heavy and thick with tension. he’s barely said two words to you, preferring to stay locked up in his office or out of the house and away from your questions. tonight, however, you decide to try your luck again.

“rafe?” you say softly when you hear the front door slam shut.

he isn’t expecting you to be awake since it’s way past midnight. yet here you are, sitting on the sofa, waiting for him to come home.

“not tonight.” he huffs out, making his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“yes tonight, rafe,” you begin, getting up and following him into the bathroom, “i don’t know what happened in morocco, nor do i want to but i’m your girlfriend, you can’t keep ignoring me. we live together but the past few days i feel like i’ve been living with a ghost and it’s not fair.”

rafe stops in front of the sink, gripping the edge of the counter tight. his gaze meets yours in the mirror and he lets out a sharp breath. there’s nothing you want more in this moment than for rafe to let you in and talk to you, to tell you about whatever’s on his mind.

“i said not now.” he mutters, splashing some cold water on his face to calm his annoyance, “i won’t do this right now.”

“then when?” you snap, growing tired at him refusing to talk about it, “you keep saying that, rafe. would you prefer if i left you alone completely? or how about if i move out so you don’t have to be annoyed when you see me in the house we share? you know, since we live together? if it’s about something i’ve done or you don’t love me anymore please, just tell me because i can’t deal with you like this.”

quickly, he turns around and exhales sharply, trying to find the words. it breaks his heart that you think he doesn’t love you when in reality he loves you more than anything. he just hates talking about what happened on the runway all those years ago.

“it’s not about you.”

he says the words with quiet confidence, trying to reassure you and at the same time silently ask for you to stop pushing him. but you don’t. you can’t stand him being so distant.

you miss your boyfriend.

“rafe, please talk to me. i can’t try to help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

a few seconds of silence pass before he pushes off the counter and brushes past you, walking into the bedroom. you follow him, sitting next to him on the bed.

finally, rafe gathers the words, “shoupe brought her up.”

“peterkin?” you whisper, the name causing goosebumps on your skin.

he doesn’t have to answer, the lack of one sufficient enough. it’s been years since either of you brought up that day, but the memory of it is still as haunting as ever.

“what did he say?” you ask, even though you’re scared of the answer.

“before we left for morocco… i told him i’d tell him about what happened with my dad and the plane and everything that happened on the runway last summer,” he has to take a breath, the memory replaying in his head, “but he wanted to know about peterkin. about what really happened. i- i killed her and he wants me to confess. he knows, i know he does but-”

“rafe, calm down.” you have to cut him off, sensing how stressed out he’s getting.

his chest is heaving as he takes in deep breaths and runs a hand over his face. from the corner of his eye, he can see that you’re facing him, your eyes studying his face.

“all i want to do is forget about that day, leave it in the past,” he whispers, interlocking his fingers with yours when you rest your hand on his thigh, “but shoupe- he brought it all back. it felt like i was back there. and then to have to spend all that time with them in morocco and away from you… it was horrible.”

carefully, you grab his face to make him look at you, his glossy eyes meeting yours. you gently wipe away the tears that trail down his cheeks.

“baby, it’s okay to feel that way. this has been with you for so long, it was bound to happen one day. but you don’t have to do it alone, i thought you knew that. i’m here for you, i always will be.”

your words apparently don’t have the intended effect of calming him down. he pulls away from your touch and abruptly stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“no, you don’t get it!” he shouts, fists clenching by his side, “you didn’t shoot her, you don’t have to live with this guilt, y/n! she wasn’t supposed to be there. i did it for my dad and it all means nothing because now he’s gone.”

“you can’t undo what you did, rafe. it happened. but you’re not that person anymore,” you say firmly, also standing up, “you’re trying to make up for it, everyone can see that. maybe you can’t, but everyone else can. that mistake doesn’t define you so stop acting like it does.”

“she’s still dead and it’s still my fault! it doesn’t matter that i’ve ‘changed’.” he spits, laughing bitterly as the last word leaves his lips.

“yes, rafe. it does matter because you’re trying. you’re trying to do better and be a better person than who you were, someone people are proud of.” you push, begging him to listen to what you’re actually saying.

he stops in front of you, towering over you yet still the smallest you’ve ever seen him, his vulnerability evident in this moment.

“you really think i’ve changed? that i can ever come back from what i did?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you nod, your hand cupping his cheek, “but, let me help you. whatever you need me to do, just tell me and i’ll do it because i love you.”

rafe exhales shakily, a tiny weight feeling like it’s been lifted off his shoulders. finally, he returns your nod and pulls you into a hug, strong arms tightly gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“i love you too. and i’m sorry… about everything.”

“we’ll get through it together, just like always,” you promise, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “but please keep trying. don’t go backwards.”

“i’ll try.”

“that’s all i ask for.”