#gotta go! its breakfast time!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 16 days

Note

Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼

I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)

I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."

late night talking.

op x fem norris!reader

in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…

hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍

songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit

4.1k words

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

hehe

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pizzapizzadickz · 1 year

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#why was i upset again???#diary #personal #i had like a meltdown last night. and i sorta just sat there sobbing for like an hour. then i went to bed.#when i woke up i was just like #anyways. i now am trying to eat breakfast. very unsuccessfully bc i am not eating currently.#id like porridge. but we dont have the one i like rn. so i have to settle for something else. its taken me 40 mins to decide #anyways now i have to MAKE the porridge. and im so burnt out from the meltdown its like. not gonna go well :/#like. ur telling me that while i feel like utter shit i gotta be around people????? and stand at the stove for GOD knows how long????#im gonna make the quickest porridge i can but still its not my day #i rly hope i dont have another meltdown today. bc im already like primed and raring to go for another.#god i hate them so much tho. bc i gotta be quiet i dont want anyone to hear me crying.#and like. honestly i generally get super agitated and lose my mind for a while. so like. if i was alone id probably be super loud n shit.#theyre very painful tho. internally that is. probably in part bc of how much i need to be quiet #cuz like. since i cant cry loudly. i just hold my breath! like!!! i probably sound like im hyperventilating!!!!#and honestly!!!! i have before!!!!! soley bc i cant breath enough when crying.#yeah. but you really can only cry for so long. so generally i eventually get tired and fall asleep.#or my mind sorta blanks out on me and i decide fuck it time to sleep.#so yeah. idk. meltdowns are very painful. its been a while since ive gotten that bad tbh?#whats more hilarious is i was perfectly fine until i tried to sleep. well. i wouldnt say perfectly i was stressed n tired #but nothing to indicate i was gonna meltdown or shutdown. i probably just got so overwhelmed that it sorta broke on me #and like. before i was in bed i had a task to complete so i had to focus on that and not how im feeling. so yeah.#idk. ill try to take care of myself today. but theres not much to be done. im gonna feel like shit for a while.#of course unless i get high or something. id feel a lot better instantly bc it sorta erasses the rough edges on things for me #so rather than feeling like my skin is pricked up and on edge (like i do now). id probably be just focused on food or vids #idk. its weird. and im tired. imma go eat.#drugs tw

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rafeandonlyrafe · 11 days

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deliveries

words: 1.2k

warnings: ex!rafe, reconciliation, kinda sugar daddy rafe but he just likes taking care of his girl mhm iktr

“can i say no?” you sigh.

“say no? did you not place this delivery?” the man raises his eyebrows.

“i didn't. my- my ex did.”

“well, i have to deliver it, ma’am, but i don't care what you do with it afterwards. give it to your friends or throw it out.” the man sets the bags of food at your doorstep, snapping a picture before walking off.

you can't blame him, plus it's probably a situation he's never encountered before.

you sigh as you pick up the bags, carrying them into the kitchen counter. packages, deliveries and letters have been showing up on your doorstep for two weeks, ever since you broke up with rafe.

you're sick of it at this point. as you go through the food, picking out something to eat for dinner (you're not just gonna let it go to waste!) you grab your phone and unblock rafes number.

you wonder how long it will take him to realize as you sit at your desk and eat. you're in an apartment complex with pretty tight security, it's the only reason why rafe isn't knocking at your door himself, instead sending whoever he can to get a message to you, while simultaneously making sure you have plenty of food to eat and things to take care of yourself with.

you answer your phone after the first ring. you deleted his contact, but rafes number is forever memorized in your head.

“stop sending me things.”

“baby, its a relief to hear your voice again.” rafe sighs, sounding genuinely happy, like a weight is suddenly off his chest. “please, let me just talk to you. i miss you so much.”

“no, rafe. we broke up. you need to stop.”

“why'd you break up with me? what did you tell me princess?” rafe questions. “i wasn't giving you enough attention. now im giving you everything. please, y/n.” he pleads. “im not going to stop.”

you take a deep sigh. you really love rafe, despite your relationship being only six months old when you broke up with him, it was just too much. too much attention from your friends and too much pressure from his family. it pushed your relationship farther apart until rafe barely paid attention to you, receiving constant questions from his dad and friends.

“you have to, rafe. clearly things weren't working out. we tried. we can say that. gave it a fair shot.”

“im not done trying. yes, i let my family and other people get into my head about our relationship, but im done with that bullshit. i want you back.”

“let me think about it, okay?” it's an olive branch. the best thing that you can extend right now.

“okay.” rafe agrees. “how about i call you friday?”

you glance at the calendar hanging over your desk. two days. two days to think. you're not sure it's enough or too much.

“that works… but rafe, stop sending me stuff.”

“i can't, baby.” you can practically see the way he's shaking his head right now. “gotta take care of my girl, even if you don't wanna see me.”

“fine.” you groan. you know there's no talking rafe out of it. “order me some lemonade next time then.”

you yawn as you wake up with a big stretch, instinctively reaching over to the other side of the bed. your hand pats the sheets before remembering that you left rafe.

you slide out of bed, heading towards your kitchen to get something for breakfast when a knock on your door interrupts you.

“one second!” you're in pajamas, but they're far too small and tight to answer the door in. you rush back into your bedroom and pull a robe on to cover up.

“hi!” the delivery woman smiles. “y/n?”

“yup.” you nod, stepping to the side. “do you mind just setting it down on the counter?”

the woman places the bags down before saying goodbye and seeing herself out. you sigh and look into the bags, eyes bulging when you see velvet boxes carefully placed inside one of them.

you pull out one of the boxes, gasping when a beautiful diamond necklace is revealed. you continue to open them, realizing rafe bought you jewelry of almost every variety.

“oh, gosh.” you grab a note, opening it to see his handwriting.

it's just what you deserve. i love you and want you back. can't wait to talk to you tomorrow.

rafe

p.s. i paid your rent for the next three months

you grab your phone before even looking in the other bag, dialing rafes number. he picks up almost instantly.

“you know you can't buy my love, right?”

“im not trying to.” rafe says. “im just trying to take care of you. did you get the breakfast?”

you peek into the other bag, seeing a stack of delicious looking pancakes inside a clear container, as well as some other options.

“yeah, ill eat it in a minute.”

“good.” you can practically hear rafes smile over the phone.

“how about we meet up in person to talk tomorrow instead of on the phone?”

“ill go wherever you want.”

“our first date.” is all you say before hanging up, grabbing the pancakes and container holding scrambled eggs.

you're aware you didn't say what time as you pull up to the pier. it's a warm day, sunny with almost no clouds in the sky, but a light breeze gives you the perfect amount of cooling.

you walk down the pier, unable to hold back your smile when you see rafe sitting on the bench where you ate ice cream on your first date after finally agreeing to let him take you out.

rafe watches you carefully as you sit down next to him.

“you're wearing the necklace i got you.” he smiles, seeing the gold chain around your neck.

“i am.” you nod.

“can i… can i hug you? ive missed you so much baby.”

you nod again, not sure you can find your voice as rafes arms wrap around your body, holding you into his side. you snuggle into his chest, eyes sliding shut.

“love you so much.” rafe says, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “so much i messed up the first time not trying to be too obsessed. i just didn't want to make you run away, turns out i did the exact opposite and you felt ignored. you know how my dad is…” rafe trails off as you pick your head up to look at him.

“we shouldn't have let others get between us.” you know you're not innocent in it either, contributing just as much to rafe to the tension that had grown between the two of you.

“and we won't let it happen again now that we know.” rafe says, a promising look in his eyes. you swear it looks like he might cry as you nod.

he ducks his head, pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss. you fist your hands in his shirt, keeping him close as you kiss back, having missed his lips on yours more than you'd like to admit.

“does this mean you'll tell security im allowed back in?” rafe laughs gently, cupping your face, his thumb gently stroking over your cheek.

“hmm, i guess.” you giggle.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight

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catiuskaa · 3 months

Text

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

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