#….it’s going to be an interesting few weeks

[jonnywaistcoat]

mr sims have you watched supernatural

The year is 2006 - I've just finished school for the summer holidays and am looking for something to fill my time. I am recommended by a friend a show called Supernatural as it's "pretty decent action horror" and it piques my interest. There's a whole four seasons of it available, so plenty to fill my time. I watch it through in a few weeks and enjoy it a medium amount, but not enough to keep up with future seasons, and I assume it ends not too long after that, as it feels like it's really running out of stories to tell.

The year is 2013 - I discover the show is still going somehow, and that things have gotten weird. I decide not to bother catching up, as nobody actually seems to think it's good, despite how intense they are about it.

The years are 2018-present - I am fully vindicated in my decision.

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Respect

Feyd-Rautha x female!reader

Summary: Your betrothed is a son from one of the Great Houses, an awful man who has enjoyed threatening and scaring you since you were children. Feyd makes it known he doesn't appreciate such disrespectful treatment of the woman he loves.

Notes/Warnings: SA (mention of past unwanted touching. Not by Feyd). Violence and blood. Implied or mentioned sexual situations. Feyd is soft for reader and reader only. Typos, im sure. I think that's it. Feel free to correct me.

Words: 1900

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You told him stories of the youngest son of House Kenric. As you lay in Feyd’s arms, you recounted your meetings with your betrothed over the years. The ways he teased you as children, pinching your skin, tugging on your hair, spitting in your face, calling you worthless, stupid, pathetic. Then in the years before coming of age, how he would mock you alongside his brothers. How he would smack you if you defended yourself and force you to tell your father you’d fallen. How he would grope you over your dress when neither your parents nor his were paying attention. But you’d kept one story from him; the most recent of them.

Feyd had met you at a party for a handful of influential Great Houses, and it wasn’t long before he found himself rather attached to you. Over the course of six hours, you’d met, talked, flirted, snuck off, kissed, fell into bed, fucked, and returned to the party with no one the wiser. It was that same night you were able to convince your father of a budding interest in Harkonnen ways, and that if the Houses were aiming for peace and unity, there would be no harm in you spending a few months on Giedi Prime.

At the time, Feyd knew the “Harkonnen ways” you so appreciated didn’t extend far past the attachment the two of you shared and his ability to make you see stars when his cock was inside of you, but it eventually developed into more. Much more. Though never said aloud, he loved you. So much so that when you finally informed him of your betrothed’s treatment of you the week preceding the party—his cornering you, touching you, telling you of his intent to control and use you as he pleases once you become his wife—Feyd struggled to swallow his rage. 

“I’m scared, honestly,” you told him, your hand sliding up from his abdomen over his chest to the curve where his neck met his shoulder, gently squeezing the toned muscle. “How do I become the wife of a man like that? And what about producing his heir? I’ll have no choice but to let him have me.”

It made Feyd sick to think of another man so close to you. Another man’s hands on you, his lips marring your body, tongue between your folds, sweat staining your skin. Even screwing his eyes shut couldn’t make those images disappear. They only grew stronger, tormenting him. She’s not yours, a little voice whispered. Not your woman, not the mother of your child, not your wife. 

But, fuck, you should be. You should be all of those things. You would make a perfect Baroness; the only one Feyd could imagine himself wanting. You would face hardship with a sturdy backbone and not shy away from what Giedi Prime would request of you. You would be respected as the ruler by his side, as you deserve. Respected most of all by the man who loves you.

“Would you rather marry me?” Feyd asked, lazily running his fingers up and down your bare spine. He felt a sudden uneasiness, like nerves wiggling throughout his limbs. Such an unfamiliar sensation. Unwelcome, but not misplaced he supposed.

“Yes,” you replied to his relief. “But we both know that’s not how this works, Feyd. It’s just not that simple.”

You were right. It wasn’t simple. Your father made an arrangement with House Kenric, but there was no chance Feyd was going to let that old Duke take you from him in two weeks and ship you off to marry an abusive, unworthy pest of a man. If your father wouldn’t permit simplicity for the sake of your happiness, then Feyd would just have to make it simple. 

—

“Why is it again that I’m not allowed to see?” you ask as Feyd guides you down a dark corridor with his fingers covering your eyes.

“I told you it’s a surprise,” he teases. “Don’t you like my presents?” 

You chuckle. “Of course, I like your presents.”

“Then that’s all you need to know,” he tells you. “We are here, anyway.”

Coming to a stop, Feyd removes his hands from your eyes and places them on your shoulders, kneading out the tension that has only worsened in your body as your wedding day grows nearer. You blink once, twice, still curious as to what sort of present could possibly be this far from your rooms, but when your vision adjusts to the onslaught of bright light illuminating the small cell, you gasp at the sight before you. 

“What do you think?” Feyd asks, pressing a kiss to your neck as you take in the badly beaten body of Aldo Kenric—your future husband.

He’s secured to a chair, his arms strapped down to the chairs arms and legs strapped to legs. His head hangs low. His shirt is torn down the front, exposing the deep purple bruises that litter his torso. Blood drips from his nose and split lips to stain white fabric and forge red rivers through the hills of his abdomen muscles. If not for the pink flush to his skin, you would think him long dead.

The hand that raises to your mouth partially conceals your shock, but the rest of your face gives the emotion away. Your eyelids don’t seem to be able to blink anymore, and your brows will not lower from their position high up on your forehead. You don’t know how to swallow what you see.

With a sigh, Feyd says, “Wait a moment. He’s not very lively.” Then he steps around you toward your betrothed, lifts the man's head by his cropped blond hair, and hits him across the face with a smack that echoes throughout the cell. Scarlet droplets splatter across Feyd’s forearm like flung paint from a brush.

Aldo jolts awake, body convulsing in a sharp jerk. His eyes blow wide as saucers as he snaps his head in all directions and struggles against his binds. The gag in his mouth muffles his whimpers of panic. 

“H-How?” you stutter, glancing at Feyd. “When did you—”

“I had some of my men snatch him last night,” Feyd informs you. ‘While we were busy fucking’, he leaves out. “I was told it was done without difficulty. Didn’t put up a decent fight of any sort.” 

He grabs Aldo’s jaw, fingers pressing into the hollows of his cheeks, and forces his head so he has no choice but to look directly into Feyd’s eyes. “We had a long talk about respecting our women, didn’t we, Kenric?”

Tears stream down the man’s face, cutting through dried blood and dripping onto Feyd’s hand. Aldo tries to yank his head free from the tight grasp to look at you. You think he’s repeating your name behind the stuffing in his mouth, but you can’t be sure.

“What are you going to do with him?” you ask.

“What would you like me to do with him?”

“I can decide?”

He laughs. “Of course. I wouldn’t give you a gift and not let you choose what to do with it.”

You almost flinch in shock. You’re not known for choosing things for yourself. Until you met Feyd, ‘choice’ was a word associated with negativity and obligatory sacrifice. He is the one thing you’ve ever chosen. Your clothes, your hair, your studies, your husband—all selected for you. But Feyd…you met him and fell and didn’t want to get back up. 

Maybe now, you don’t have to.

“You’d kill him?” you ask.

Aldo screams behind his gag, more salty wet lines running down his face. His squirming shifts the chair back and forth and forward and back. Unevenly distributed weight nearly causes him to fall on his side, but Feyd sets him upright before he can crack his head on the stone floor. 

Reaching around his back, Feyd pulls out a small knife and in one sharp motion sinks it into Aldo’s thigh with a sickening yet satisfying thick thud. “Stay put,” he growls, then he turns to you with a smile. “Yes, I would kill him, if that would make you happy.”

Water pools in the corner of your eyes. Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Feyd rushes to you and cups your cheeks in warm palms. 

“Do not cry,” he demands as his thumbs brush over your cheekbones. “You know I hate it.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, sucking in a few deep breaths between your sniffles. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

His face softens. “I’d do everything for you,” he swears before drawing you in for a kiss; slow and sensual and sweet in front of the broken man who currently has a claim on your hand. You lose yourself to mouths moving in perfect sync until he pulls back. 

“So, do you have a preference?” he asks, giving you one final peck. “Slit throat now, or arena in the morning?”

Your head tilts in contemplation as you observe the distressed, wailing man who has happily hurt and terrified you. By nature, you are not a violent woman, not in the way your man is a violent man, and you were raised to believe that it is improper and rude and disrespectful to wish pain upon someone else—downright cruel or whatever—but there’s a sense of freedom now. Clearer mind, lighter heart, straighter spine, weakened conscience.

You raise a brow. “If I choose the arena, will you make a show of it?”

Feyd hums in agreement.

“And, um…” you pause.

“You can have anything you want,” Feyd says at your hesitation.

You nod, your confidence renewing with his encouragement. Yes, he’s right, you can have anything. With Feyd, it’s anything, and it’s conditionless. 

As you slowly drag your hand down his chest, you peer up at him through your lashes. “Will you go in without a shirt? I’d like to see you come out covered in red.”

Feyd smirks then steps out of your arms and crouches in front of your soon-to-be-former betrothed. “Did you hear her?” he asks Aldo as he flicks the hilt of the blade sticking out of his flesh. Aldo whimpers, pressing his legs together. “Covered, she says. And I will give her what she wants because I love her and this is how I respect her.”

Leaning down, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Let’s go to our room. I want to thank you…properly,” you whisper, softly kissing just under his ear before sucking his earlobe into his mouth. Feyd groans.

“And then I will properly thank you for thanking me, my love,” he says with a grin that falls into a frown when he turns back to Aldo. “See, Kenric? Respect.” Feyd slaps the top of Aldo’s leg for emphasis as he stands. “You can keep the knife for now. Can't have you bleeding out. We have an important day ahead of us and I don’t want it to be too easy.”

“Come on,” you snicker, pulling him by the hand as you walk backward out of the cell. 

Feyd spins and grabs you at the waist to lift you into his arms. You giggle as your legs lock around his hips.

“Will you agree to marry me now?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him, your lips ghosting over his. “You saved me.”

--

tags (let me know if you want to be on the list): @avidreader73

[llamagoddessofficial]

Le gasp..

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs?

Horror likes bashing in heads. He likes that his job means he gets paid to bash in a lot of heads. He doesn't really care that he's considered one of Nightmare's top enforcers, that even the hardest criminals tremble in fear at the mention of his name, that he's called things like the beast and the monster... he just likes that he gets to take out all his worst frustrations on whichever face Nightmare points him to. As a nice bonus, the money he makes means his brother and surviving friends live in safety and comfort.

... But he also likes pretty things. Pretty, soft things, that make him feel fuzzy and warm. You're all three. You find out pretty quick that his frightening face hides a softspoken, sensitive creature, who keeps appearing at your door with flowers (when did you give him your address?) and homemade food. It's bizarre, how such a violent man can equally be so gentle, getting flustered just from you looking at him too long. He wants to do to you what he does with everyone he cares about - use his money to make it so that you never have to worry about anything in life again.

Probably for the best that you let him. He famously doesn't have great control over his temper.

Dust doesn't appear too happy about working for Nightmare. It's clear to anyone watching that Nightmare has something over him; whatever it is, it must be pretty bad, because Dust never questions Nightmare's orders - no matter how terrible or violent. He does exactly what's asked of him, no more, no less. And it's obvious why Nightmare might want to force someone like Dust to work for him... there's no job this silent demon can't do.

Dust, with you, is a different man. He almost becomes his old self again. When you're alone together, he actually smiles. He desperately wants to keep you away from the world he's become trapped in, and he'll probably spend the first few weeks of knowing you trying as hard as he can to separate you from him and the other skeletons. But... he's in love. He can't help it. He's always drawn back to you again, no matter how many times he tells himself he has to let go.

You're his escape. You make him forget the things he's done, and the things he has to keep doing. He's addicted to that feeling.

Killer is Nightmare's right hand. The moniker 'Nightmare's dog' is often used, mostly in an attempt to offend him, but it just makes him laugh. Much like Horror, he very much enjoys his job... he enjoys the power, indulging in his violent desires and getting paid for it. Killer is just about the closest thing Nightmare has to someone he trusts; Killer is privy to many of their 'family's deepest secrets, partly because of his position, but also partly because Nightmare knows Killer genuinely has absolutely zero interest in these massively important secrets. Killer just wants to stab things.

For some reason he seems intent that you trust him. It's really hard to tell what he wants, behind that smile... you're cautious with him, given his clear loyalty to Nightmare. But maybe that loyalty isn't as unshakeable as it seems. It starts with little things... casually lying through his teeth and fully taking the blame for something you did. Conveniently 'forgetting' to mention you around Nightmare. Failing a mission you expressed horror at. Lying about the nature of your personal information, pretending (in front of the guys) that he doesn't know stuff he very much knows.

It's impossible to tell what he wants. But it seems like, whatever it is, he wants it more than all the power he's got now.

Nightmare will obviously want to learn the identity of the person who's somehow managed to completely disarm his three most valuable and violent soldiers. Despite all of them doing their damnedest to keep you out of Nightmare's crosshairs, you can't be hidden forever.

Nightmare is supposed to have everything - there's no luxury he can't afford. But he's always had this... void inside him. It's the very void that pushes him to keep expanding his territory, to keep killing and taking, maybe if he has just that little bit more he'll feel complete. Maybe if he just has that one last shiny thing, he'll be happy. But it's never been enough.

Then he finally meets you. And something clicks.

Dust, Killer and Horror tried so hard to keep you away from Nightmare, because they were terrified of what would happen to you if Nightmare decided he didn't like you. Instead, something much, much worse happened.

Nightmare likes you.

[a-b-riddle]

I'm just going to ask this because I need to get it out of my head. This is all in regards to your Poly141 x Reader series going on. I'm just going to recap things first.

-Price got verbally eviscerated because of all the times he got short/snapped at the reader because he came into their bookstore that they bought with their own money, put their own blood, sweat and tears into fixing up and had THE AUDACITY to call them immature for trying to break things off cleanly like a MATURE adult in a space that's RIGHTFULLY THEIRS because he couldn't be an adult admit how he shouldn't of been treating the reader like one of his men.

-Soap showing up trying to apologize and then thinking with his dick because of how the reader got dressed up for a dinner date and got a taste of his own medicine when the reader just hit it and quit it without so much as a thank you, or a goodbye kiss and basically told him to clean up, get dressed and kick rocks.

-Gaz shows up after weeks of just flaking out of any dates and just being a ghost (ironic considering Ghost's callsign) trying to talk to the reader in person when the reader had tried for months to just get a glimpse of him only to be told he couldn't right now but could another time. Then the reader just tell him, 'yeah sorry no. I don't have time for you and your mates nonsense at the moment, just swing by to get your stuff when it works for you'.

-Ghost showing up whenever the reader is in trouble and getting them away from danger only to disappear shortly afterward and give the reader radio silence. The one time that the reader tried to seek him out for just a SHRED of comfort and he just told them, 'You're only good for what's in between your legs love, you knew what you were getting into. You should've known better.'

With all this mind, I want Ghost to have everything and the kitchen sink thrown at him. I want him to be told in no kind words that his words and lack of realizing how fucked up the things he said to the reader were was the straw that broke the camel's back. I want the reader to hurl everything that they didn't say to Price to Ghost. I want him to realize in no unclear terms how if he didn't fuck up so royally and had actually attempted to give the reader a fraction of what he was being given, things would be so much better. And for some extra salt on the wound, have the reader tell him that they suppose that when it comes to his line of work, he's pretty good at breaking anything and everything he touches. It's just a shame that for anything that involves a softer touch, he winds up breaking it beyond repair.

I just love narrative/reflective irony and can't wait for the next part and wish you well for making it to the end of this ramble. 🥰

I'm throwing up.

I am so happy that y'all got it without me having to say it. YES! She is giving everything back that they gave her. John's outbursts, Johnny's lack of aftercare and Kyle's flakiness.

I will say this which I think is interesting. Simon said something hellllla shitty and unforgivable. Like it was mean and something once you say you can't take back. I will ask this and feel free to go back and re-read.

What else did Simon do? Before the phone call, what else did Simon do to reader? We know Simon wanted to hurt reader. Why? Did he plan

Spoiler below, read at own caution

Or was he just sick of being the only one out of the four guys to actually contribute to the relationship and knew he needed to be the one to drive it home that there isn't a future with them? Reader refers to Simon several times as her body guard or guard dog... But never a boyfriend or partner.

In flashbacks, we see that Simon only ever came over at night. You'll find out why in the next few chapters, but as much as I love y'all hating on Simon, I cannot WAIT for y'all to get to the why.

And remember kiddos, hurt people hurt people.

[dduane]

Aurora update, May 13, 2024: 80% less shenanigans

This will be only a brief update, as I'm dealing with a local deadline issue at the moment. But for those who're interested: the current spate of auroral episodes seems to be over.

The auroral oval of "likely seeing" has pretty much vanished at the moment, except for that little smear of "quiet aurora" over Alaska and the Yukon.

The Kp index is at sorta-3-to-4 at the moment, which generally indicates a "quiet aurora" time.

Our favorite troublemaker, active sunspot region AR3664, continues to make trouble even as it exits stage left. Over yesterday evening and the early morning hours it coughed up a few more cosmic hairballs—a mixed bag of M- and X-class flares. (In fact, as I write this I see that it's just popped off another one, a "strong" M6.66 [...seriously? Hi there @neil-gaiman!], about half an hour ago. Truly this is a diva among sunspot regions.)

It's apparently shrinking, and has lost some spots, but I remain really interested to see what things are going to look like when this region comes around again from the Sun's other side in two weeks or so.

...So for the time being, it looks like those of us who've been watching this drama unfold can sit back and relax a bit, and wait to see what happens next.

(Meanwhile, I recommend the front page of SpaceWeatherLive.com for anyone interested in keeping an eye on this kind of thing from time to time. They also have nice apps you can download that will send you alerts when something interesting happens.)

[lilasamaaa]

Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

[jup1ter33]

Boothill headcannons

sfw + nsfw! 🔞 brings up his past so be prepared to hear about that😥

sfw

he is so goofy with you, always bickering and starting something just to get on your nerves.

he means no harm though, just playful banter.

he's a wee bit touch starved, so he adores it when he can hold you and kiss you

no body better try and hurt you unless they'd like a bullet between the eyes from him.

he has no problem firing his gun at anyone who dares to hurt you, whats a few more credits on his bounty??

when you first learned about what happened on his home planet, you didn't know how to respond. you could see the pain in his eyes, but he would try and dismiss it.

that same night, he ended up bawling his eyes out on your shoulder. the words "I miss my baby... my daughter." spouted from his lips. he was sure that he couldn't cry anymore, but with you, he felt such security, a safe haven for himself.

he'd have nightmares often. he'd abandon his charging station to come lay with you clutching you to his chest in fear that he'd loose you too.

but moments with boothill are rarely sad. In fact, he's typically enthusiastic and playful with you.

he's a charmer, calling you cute names and what-not.

he'd remove his hat and place it on your head while he kisses you.

being a galaxy ranger, he would often have to leave for weeks at a time. he'd give you a piece of his clothes, or a pin off his jacket, or some flowers before he left. he'd give you a deep hug, resting his head ontop of yours and taking in your scent before he has to leave.

on his trips he'd send you photos of the scenery, or some cool monuments, or anything he'd think would interest you.

he'd text you good morning and good night every day, saying how he misses you

on those days where he gets back in the middle of the night, he'd find you sleeping in the bed on his side, the blankets pulled up to your chin.

he's quietly snuggle his way in, cradling you in his arms.

buttttt, when he gets back in the morning, you better be ready to go out and have some fun.

he'll give you a gift he picked out for you, take you out drinking or to some random restaurant. sure, he'd get stares, but he didn't care.

he's so good with kids, he plays with them all the time and scolds them when they've been naughty.

he used to play guitar with his little girl, but now that his hands are metal, he has trouble getting his fingers to press on the fret board correctly:(

nsfw

oh boy, be prepared to hear this man

he's so whiny, he whimpers and moans so loud.

one of his absolute favorite things is to eat you out. the only human part of him left is his face, so being burried in between your thigh, your warm cunt pressed against his mouth, he can feel so much of it. it sends his fans whirling from the feeling of skin-to-skin.

and the pet names, he never runs out of them. darlin', sweetheart, buttercup, the list goes on and on.

because of his synestheisa beacon, it's hard for him to give you really any degrading words.

"T-take it like the cutie you are..."

he ends up getting frustrated and decides that maybe until he can get that solved, he won't use those words on you.

wondering how his dick works? yeah me too.

he'd probably have a silicone skin layer underneath his metal "armor" so I'd assume that his girth would be made of that. (there's no way it's metal that would be torture 😭)

boothills hair is sensitive, like before, his head is the only human part of him left. giving him a good tug makes him groan and jolt.

manhandles you. not exactly intentionally, but because of his cyborg body, it's hard for him to remember that he's alot tougher than you are, and he doesn't mean it in a way that your weak, (because your not) but because he simply gets so worked up he accidently will toss you around a bit.

he's had his fair share of experience, mostly before be was a cyborg, so he'll test things out on you.

he'll watch and see if your reaction to his metallic fingers prodding at your hole, would his fingers be too hard for your liking? would they be too big? he'd be observant in the way he works thru things with you.

until he met you, he didn't know that this charging port was a little sensitive.

he was being rough with you, as a result, your arms wrapped around his body in pleasure, clawing at his back. on accident, your fingers slipped into the charging port on his lower back, and he came on the spot.

he was soooooooo embarrassed.

"i-i...darlin' I didn't know that could even happen to me..." You assured him that it was fine, and that it was rather hot.

he'll find himself on his hands and knees, his port being teased from your Skillful hands and he melts. he whimpers and moans so loud, already on his 3 orgasm.

kinda hard to overstim him, he doesn't feel alot through his metallic skin, but if you make him cum a few times, he gets so whiny and needy.

he's mostly a top, he prefers to have you wrapped around his finger. literally.

but in the case that he decided to be a bottom, he cries your name, telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you, all the things he wants to do to you. he really can't shut up.

after you two finish, he lays next to you for a moment, allowing his fans to cool his overheating body down, and for you to regain your breath.

"so...how'd I do?" He'd ask with a cheek grin on his face. he knows he did good, but he wants to hear it straight from you.

he'll run you a shower or bath, whichever you prefer. but since he doesn't exactly need to shower (and it makes him rust) he'll stay on the outside. helping you with whatever you'd need.

and while your busy washing up, he'll clean off himself with his cleaning kit, oil his fingers and joints, make sure he didn't screw up his alignment.

once you're done, he won't allow you to lift a finger. he'll change the sheets, get you food or a drink, dress you, help you with your skincare, everything. since his body is robotic, he can just charge and won't get sore. he wants to make sure that he didn't mess you up too badly.

once everything is done, he'll lay you in bed ever-so gently.

he'll cuddle up next to you, burrowing his face into your chest, listening for your heartbeat. yes, it brings him pain that he no longer has a beating heart, but as long as he can lay with you and hear yours, to know you're safe, all is well.

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

 And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone.  Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing.  Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal  in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

 „Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof.  It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

[coco-loco-nut]

Guilty as Sin?

pairing: Oscar x Reader

summary: you can’t help but to long for the Australian boy you met

a/n: sorry it took a while, i was adding ✨plot✨ and did as much research I could

masterlist ttpd masterlist

———————

Being the younger twin sister of the heir apparent to the throne is stressful, but it has allowed you to do a lot of things, such as attending the Dutch Grand Prix. Obviously you were there to support Max and meet all the Athletes, but it’s where you met and befriended Oscar. The Australian was nice and didn’t treat you any different because of your status, not to mention he was cute.

Since then, there’s been a shift in your mood. You are bored more than ever, the guilded cage of the castle that contains you is no longer fine. You text Oscar about it, requesting a song recommendation to change things up, he sends you a song that you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you want to cry, the idea of being stuck here forever until your sister marries and has children. For now you are stuck in the castle, pining over a guy who only knows you via texts.

Lately your dreams have been of cracking the locks that keep you in. When you escape you’d go on adventures with Oscar, crashing into him like the ocean waves crash onto rocks. Each dream leaves you longing for him more and more.

You can’t tell if he is just being cordial and politely responding, or if he is interested and flirting. Every time you flirt, things seem to get cold after. He’s a paradox over text, leaving you wondering if you are mad for thinking there was a chance.

You turn to your older sister for advice, telling her about what he does to you in your dreams. Secret trysts in the hedge maze, messy kisses, hands roaming each other’s skin. You keep recalling things you never did, as if he’s written mine on your upper thigh. You’d die happy if it were real.

“You know, there’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. I’ll talk to Papa about maybe going to Spain for a race in couple months,” Amalia says, invested in how this will play out.

You go on a few dates with various wealthy and noble guys your age, trying to distract yourself from the longings locked inside a vault deep inside you. Every date leaves you unsatisfied, counting down the days until you are in Spain. The fatal fantasies visit you in your dreams every night, leaving you feel like you’ve made a vow to Oscar that you are supposed to uphold somehow, despite knowing it’s all make believe.

You and Amalia fly out to Spain without the rest of your family, spending the week with the Spanish royal family. You are friends with the princesses and their cousins so it is a great distraction.

“Y/n, who is your favorite driver?” Leonor and Sophia ask as you lay on the floor of Leonor’s room together.

“Oscar,” Amalia answers for you as your cheeks flame. “She’s always texting him,”

“Amalia,” you groan, hiding your face with your hands.

“We are definitely stopping by the McLaren garage then,” Sophia grins, nudging you. Their cousins Irene, Miguel, Pablo, and Victoria arrive tomorrow morning to complete your group that is attending the Grand Prix. You had a crush on Miguel growing up, but it quickly passed once you turned 15.

“Girls, it’s time for Amalia and Y/n to return to their hotel, and the four of you have to be up early for tomorrow,” Queen Letizia says, opening the door slightly.

“Alright, we will see you tomorrow for breakfast and the driver reception,” Leonor sighs as the four of you stand up.

“Thank you for having us,” Amalia thanks the queen as you leave.

“You are always welcome, we will see you girls tomorrow,” she smiles, making sure her assistant gets you to the chauffeured car safely. The trip from Palauet Albéniz to your hotel is relatively short, one you didn’t realize was housing multiple drivers. You don’t notice Oscar as you walk into the hotel, a small security escort around you, but he notices you. He’s tempted to text you and ask why you are here, but Lando distracts him, giving him his room key and number.

Your room is plush, but lonely. You stare at your texts with Oscar, tempted to let him know you are in Spain, but something stops you. The morning is busy, your alarm waking you up early to shower and dress. You choose something simple but beautiful for the day. Your light blue dress lays nicely on you with matching heels, and your hair is styled neatly, a headband in place of a tiara. Your visit isn’t a state visit, so it is nice to have flexibility in your attire. A knock on your door tells you that Amalia is waiting outside for you.

Once again, you don’t notice Oscar as you leave, your eyes looking ahead, surrounded by the security detail.

“Your girlfriend is here,” Lando teases Oscar, noticing who he was looking at.

“She’s a princess, I would never be able to date her. She flirts over text, but I don’t want to hurt her,” Oscar sighs, watching you get into a car and leave.

“I think you already have,” Lando says, letting Oscar think.

You arrive to the palace, eager to see your friends again. Breakfast is wonderful, and afterwards you all go outside to the gardens to catch up. Despite only seeing each other every few years, your group chat is alive and well.

“Go talk to Miguel, he’s been eyeing you since breakfast,” Sophia tells you, you look over to her cousin. He has aged well since you last saw him. “Ask him about school, oceanography,” she nudges you in his direction.

“Oceanography? How’s that?” you slide up beside Miguel, deciding it’s a good idea to try and move on again. You listen enthusiastically as he talks about his studies and living in London.

“What are you studying?” he returns your question.

“History with minors in French and German. Nothing terribly exciting,” you say, a slight blush appearing on your face as he focuses on you. The two of you unconsciously separate from the group, caught up in conversation. Victoria and Irene grab the two of you, informing you that it is time to go back inside for the drivers welcome and lunch. Miguel’s hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you walk up the stairs.

“We will wait for you at lunch,” Pablo says to Leonor and Sophia, the six of you ready to find something to do as the drivers arrive from their hotels.

“No, join us. Mama and Papa would want you there,” Leonor says so you follow her in. The six of you stand a few behind the four royals, following royal protocol in that regard. You are chatting with Irene and Miguel quietly when the drivers walk in.

“Accompany me to the Opera tonight,” Miguel says quickly, you nod and blush a little before turning you attention to the drivers, eyes instantly meeting Oscar’s, your blush deepens a little before you put on your royal mask. It doesn’t matter if your date with Miguel goes well or not, deep down you know that you’d drop him for Oscar immediately if asked. One by one, the drivers are introduced before you are allowed to mingle before lunch.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” Max bows before you and Amalia as the two of you approach him.

“Max, it’s wonderful to see you again. Please don’t bow, you only need to in formal situations,” you smile, greeting the champion.

“Yes, no need to bow when we aren’t here formally visiting. We will be cheering for you this weekend,” Amalia says and you notice Oscar standing nearby.

“Excuse me,” you excuse yourself from the conversation, Max takes no offense as he sees you beeline to the Australian, Amalia continues her conversation with Max. It would be a bad look for the heir apparent to brush off her own countryman.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” Oscar asks happily, unsure if he can hug his friend, acting like he didn’t know she was here.

“Surprise visit. I didn’t want to wait until the Dutch Grand Prix to see my friend again, and I wanted to visit my friends. My sisters and I are close with the princesses and their cousins, but Amalia and I were the only ones who flew out since we like the sport. Sorry, I’m rambling,” you laugh nervously.

“That’s okay, it’s cute,” Oscar says with a cute smile, not quite realizing what he was saying.

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you can’t openly flirt with the Australian here, but you do your best.

“I’m sorry, Lando is beckoning me to him, visit me in the McLaren garage, yeah?” Oscar asks.

“I’d love to,” you smile, watching him go to his teammate. You rejoin your sister and Max, effortlessly sliding into the conversation. You can tell Leonor had a hand in the lunch seating because she placed you between Oscar and Max, Amalia was on the other side of max. Carlos and Fernando were sat near the King and Queen.

“Y/n, how does this work? I’ve never been to a royal meal before,” Oscar discreetly asks you.

“Follow the pattern for who to speak to, It will be dictated by the king, for everything else just follow my lead. King Felipe is a slower eater so you should have time to finish your meal, and this is more laid back than a state dinner. If I were wearing a tiara, you’d be in trouble,” you joke, Oscar seems relieved at your explanation. You turn to Max first, discussing the race and things he misses about the Netherlands. Once the meal is served, you turn to Oscar.

“This is a lot less stressful than what I imagined,” Oscar smiles, having trusted your quick overview of what to do, one he just shared with Lando.

“Not every meal is full of such protocol, usually just for guests and important meals. You should’ve told me you’d be here, I could’ve answered your questions. I only thought that Carlos and Fernando would be here,” you admit and he shrugs, balancing his talking and eating.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Sometimes I forget you are third in line to the throne,” you scrunch you nose, cringing a little.

“Don’t remind me,” you laugh a bit so he knows you are joking. “Where are they housing you?” you ask, taking a bite of food.

“The Hotel Arts,” Oscar says, ready to act surprised when you say where you are staying.

“Ah, Mr Fancy Pants. Living it up like royalty, I see,” you smirk, glancing around the table to make sure you are eating at the right pace.

“I take it you are staying there as well then,” Oscar says, taking the hint.

“Yes, we should get breakfast one morning before you go to the track,” you suggest, a little hope in your heart.

“I’d really like that,” Oscar thinks back on Lando’s words, deciding to take the risk. He’s worried about your life as a princess more than anything that will happen to him if he were to date you.

“Maybe not tomorrow though, I am going to the Opera tonight so I will be nursing a wine hangover,” you appreciate the light and easy conversation you are able to have with Oscar.

“Sounds like a deal, we can play it by ear,” Oscar smiles. The two of you turn your attention to your meals. The rest of the day passes quickly, the drivers having left after the lunch.

You and Amalia go back to the hotel to get ready for the opera. You just finished putting your heels on and securing your tiara when there is a knock on the door.

“Oscar?” you say confused at the Australian standing outside your door.

“I brought wine, figured you’d want to get the party started early. You look stunning, by the way,” He says, inviting himself into the small living room space.

“I thought drivers don’t drink before race weekends,” you smile, carefully sitting beside him.

“One glass won’t hurt,” he pours two glasses, carefully handing you one. It’s a cheaper wine, likely bought from across the street rather than from the bar downstairs.

“I’d also take shots, but wine is nice. Thanks, Osc,” you sip the white wine. Oscar chose a safer choice than a red. You have time before heading down with Amalia where one of the cars will pick you up.

“So why the tiara?”

“The opera is considered a white or black tie event, I don’t remember which it is. Plus, I agreed to go as Miguel’s date so I have to look perfect or else the media will slaughter me,” you sigh, taking a large sip of the wine.

“Oh, that sucks,” Oscar digests the last bit of information.

“He’s a great guy, but I think he’s more of a friend. I have my eye on someone else anyway,” you add on, quickly glancing at Oscar who regains his hope, noticing your glance.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you,” Oscar says as Amalia enters the room.

“Hello, Oscar. Y/n, we have to go, they are close,” she says, the two of you finish your wine.

“Thanks for the glass of wine, good luck tomorrow if I don’t see you,” you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, following Amalia out the door. You trust Oscar to leave once he cleans up the wine.

The opera is nice, and the next two days are fun as you spend time in the paddock. You wake up early to join Oscar for breakfast on the race day.

“Orange? For me?” Oscar grins after you order. You are wearing an orange blouse with white pants and heels. Since it isn’t the Dutch Grand Prix, you have a small pin with a bull and the number one on it attached to your blouse.

“For Max, but also for you,” you smile back.

“It’s actually papaya, I can get McLaren to gift you some stuff,” he says, leaning back in his chair a bit.

“That’s okay, I have enough Red Bull team wear in my closet. I wouldn’t even be allowed in McLaren clothing unless there was a better reason other than being friends with the driver, unfortunately Max takes precedence there. Also, I have money to buy McLaren merch, they are better off gifting merch to other fans,” you say, sipping your water.

“So what can I do to get you to openly support me?” he asks, knowing one of the answers.

“Well, if you get a podium at Zandvoort I can hand you your trophy,” you tell him and he nods.

“I can do that, maybe I will beat Max,”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” your laugh is music to him. The two of you finish your breakfast, both having obligations to attend to. You and Amalia arrive to the paddock together, only joining the Spanish royals for the actual race.

“Welcome to Red Bull, Your Royal Highnesses,” a hospitality employee greets you as you enter the garage.

“Hello, Max,” Amalia greets the driver with a smile.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highnesses. Welcome to our garage,” Max smiles, a girl and a woman with him.

“Maxie, are they real life princesses?” the little girl asks. She pulls at your heartstrings, your royal foundation works with young girls.

“We are, what is your name?” You kneel down as she looks at you with wide eyes, curtsying.

“Penelope,”

“Hi Penelope, my name is Y/n. You curtsied beautifully, but there is no need to curtsy to a friend,” you tell her, glancing up at Max and the woman who you assume is her mother.

“This is Kelly, my girlfriend, and her daughter, Penelope,” Max introduces them to you.

“Would you like a picture, Penelope?” Amalia asks, the little girl nods.

“That’s my big sister, she’s going to be a queen one day,” you tell Penelope as if it’s a secret.

“Can I, Mommy? I want Maxie in it too,” Penelope asks, when Kelly agrees, you carefully pick up Penelope. Both Red Bull and Kelly take photos. You chat with the group until you realize there isn’t too long until you will have to join the royal family, so you excuse yourself to walk a few garages down.

“Can I help you?” someone in papaya stops you from going too close.

“Yes, I’m here to visit my friend, Oscar,” you start, looking into the garage.

“Y/n! You made it,” Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulder, guiding you inside.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Princess. My name is Lando Norris of the United Kingdom,” Oscar’s teammate extends his hand, you find the childish antic amusing. You give him your hand, he bows slightly, lightly kissing the back of your hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Norris,” you giggle, feeding into the antics. Oscar went from worried to amused in those thirty seconds.

“Alright, she’s my friend, not yours. Find your own princess to hog,” Oscar pulls you away, his smile betraying his annoyed tone. You get some silly pictures together, and he puts his helmet on you before one photo.

“I could totally drive one of these,” you say, lying to see his reaction.

“When we get to the Netherlands, I’m racing you in karts and taking you on a hot lap then,” Oscar laughs as your eyes widen.

“Bring it on,” you don’t back down. Oscar could kiss you right now, but he never did ask about how your date to the opera went, so he doesn’t.

“Oscar, I’d like my sister to be returned, please,” Amalia says, walking over to the two of you.

“Oscar, I found my princess!” Lando grins, Amalia’s confused reaction causes you to snort and Oscar to laugh.

“She’s off limits to you, Lando. You aren’t king material,” you tell him, gently patting his shoulder.

“But Oscar is prince material?” Lando asks. Amalia drags you out of the garage before either of you can reply.

The race is exciting and you watch eagerly.

“Who is your favorite driver?” Pablo asks, watching from beside you.

“Politically, Max. Personally, Oscar Piastri, he’s a close friend,” you say, watching the track as Oscar passes, fighting for P3.

“It’s a shame my brother and you aren’t a match,” he says, referring to the Opera.

“We are better off as friends, something we realized quickly. Once we realized that we weren’t teenagers anymore, the Opera got much better,” you chuckle.

You are aware of the cameras watching your box as the race ends. You and Amalia celebrate carefully, not doing much other than clap and excitedly talk to each other. The podium ended with Carlos winning, Max in P2, and Oscar in P3. Max dropped in the last couple laps, his tires degrading too early.

That night you show up to the club with Irene and Victoria, being the only girls who could go out and not be yelled at. Your black party dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but your coat doesn’t let photographers know as you step into the club with them. After checking your coat, you head to the bar where you notice drivers taking shots.

“This round on me,” you tell Irene and Victoria. You order your round and a vodka Red Bull for after the shots.

“Princess! Oscar, your princess is here!” Lando slurs, calling over a slightly less drunk Oscar.

“You look incredible,” his smile causes you to blush. You notice Max and Carlos observing the interaction.

“Shots for the podium! And ladies, and I guess Lando,” you declare, ordering seven shots. You all take them and you are feeling a lot braver at flirting with Oscar.

“What are you drinking?” Oscar asks, standing close to you, his breath warm on your ear.

“Vodka Red Bull,” you tell him, sipping the drink.

“Hey Max, your princess really is your fan. She’s drinking a vodka Red Bull,” Oscar tells the Dutchman.

“It’s a good choice,” Max smiles, unsure how he feels about partying with the third in line to his home country. Carlos, however, has no problems, talking to Irene and Victoria.

“Dance with me,” you tell Oscar as you finish your drink, he follows you onto the dance floor, bodies close. His hands stay on your hips, holding you close but trying to stay respectful. A couple songs later you kiss him, and his hands wrap around you, pulling you into him.

Soon after, you are getting your coat and heading back to your hotel, pulling him into your room. Scenes from nights you’ve spent together flash through your mind, ones where he has you screaming his name, building up like waves and crashing over and over again. His hands roam your skin, bedsheets ablaze, maybe you can be guilty as sin this time.

You wake up in his embrace, his soft snores tell you he’s still asleep. You think about your options. After this weekend, you’ll face criticism anyway, why not go after someone you’ve been pining after. The public will always have opinions about who you date, but the way it feels when Oscar holds you is so right. The only way they will be happy is if you never date or marry until you’re thirty. They don’t know how keeping the crush to yourself haunted you every night, and how he is stunningly perfect.

“What’s going through that pretty mind of yours?” Oscar asks sleepily, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I choose you and me, no matter what the public says,” you whisper, looking in his half awake eyes.

“Finally. I choose us too,” he smiles, pulling you into his chest.

“I still can’t openly support you as opposed to Max,” you smile, Oscar’s eyes open again.

“I will propose right now,” he says, quite seriously. You giggle, running your hand up his chest.

“Don’t, that’s a whole process and a lot of conversations that I don’t feel like going through yet,” you say, feeling Oscar’s chest vibrate as he hums in agreement. He looked up what would happen if he were to marry you one night while texting you. He’d have to become a naturalized citizen, your parents would announce the engagement, then the parliament would have to approve the marriage in order for you to stay a member of the royal household.

Oscar gets up half an hour later, needing to board a plane to Austria with the team. As he waits to taxi, he sends you the link to a song, the same one he sent a couple months ago. The past twenty four hours have been better than any dream. Are you allowed to cry happy tears?

[kika-writes]

wingman - l.n

Warnings: funny funny haha I’m deunk

Pairing: Lando Norris x piastri!fem!reader

Summary: Oscar helps Y/N hook up with someone after she’s been single for ages

A/N - I see a lot of fics about like Oscar/Lando being, like, ‘I don’t want you to date him’ but this is kinda around my brother, he’d get protective but he’d, like, support me ig? Just an idea lmao

“Hi Oscar,” you said, jumping from one foot to the other as he raised an eyebrow. “Who’d you kill?” he said sarcastically as you scoffed. “No one! You’re always so mean,” you crossed your arms. “Sorry, force of habit, what’s up?” he asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Need to tell you something,” you muttered. “Ah, so you did kill someone?” he said, stifling a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help myself!” your brother snorted as he saw your face. “I, uh, I may like someone?” you said, cheeks flushed red as Oscar hummed. 

“Oh yeah? Do I know him?” he asked, putting his phone down. “You could say that, yeah,” you shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the massage board as he looked up from his be. “How long?” he asked, the usual questions he asked when you liked someone new. “Like, I dunno, a few weeks,” you replied, you didn’t measure how long your crush spanned. “Who is it?” he opened his phone, ready to check if he had them in his contacts. “I…uh, Lando,” you said quietly, voice high with unease as he dropped his phone. “Lando?!” he hissed, knowing that the other driver was in the room besides his. 

You nodded, confirming his hearing wasn’t malformed as his eyes widened. “Like, that Lando?” he gestured vaguely at the wall, as you gave the same confirmation. “Damn,” he acknowledged slowly, “this is gonna take a special type of brother wing-manning,”. You could always rely on your brother to help you out with anything, even if it was getting with his teammate. You and Lando had a pretty strong relationship - you had each other’s numbers, you spoke every time you saw each other, you hung out with each other in your free time, you had hour long calls almost every night. Now you just needed to build on it. 

“Hi Lando,” Oscar said pointedly, walking towards the Brit as he looked up grinning at Oscar. “Me and some of the drivers are planning on getting lunch at this little place near the pier,” your brother said coolly, “you interested?”. Lando nodded, more than happy to go, but little did he know, the driver’s had a plan for the pair of you. George had asked you the same question and you’d all arranged to go to a restaurant on ghetto 16th floor of skyscraper hotel. Oscar’d plan was simple. Time each of your entrances to the elevator perfectly and then do a little snippy snippy on the wire. Easy. 

“Hey Y/N,” a voice said behind you as you waited for the elevator, nervously adjusting your short, black dress. “Lando, hi,” you stepped into the open empty box as Lando followed. “You going for the dinner?” you asked, trying to prompt conversation. “Yes, I’m -fuck!” Lando gasped, the lights of the elevator immediately flickering as the box shook violently.

“Lando!” you shrieked, almost like a normal reaction, your body fall into his as the box tilted to one side suddenly. “Hey, you alright?” he asked, struggling to find his phone. “Y-yeah, it’s dark,” you gulped, your hands scrunching into his shirt as held your body close to his. “You good?” he said, eyes roving your face for any signs of fright. “Yeah, just shocked,” you said, “Lando, I don’t like the dark,”.

“My phones dead,” he groaned, you’d forgotten yours. “Lando,” you shook his hand lightly as he pulled you closer. “Cold?” he asked, feeling your shivering body against him. “Yeah,” you hummed, hands on his as you struggled for balance. You heard him shuffle, sliding down so he was sitting, before taking your body into his. “Sit,” he said, as you rested your head onto his shoulder.

A/N - idk how to end it.

[jaqofalltrades]

Barracks Bunny

COLLAB WITH @ace-of-spadez GO FOLLOW!!!

POV: You're a barracks bunny and didn't think the Colonel knew.

König x bb!reader

CW: (Part 1) Age difference (König early 40's, reader mid 20's), sparring ig. (Part 2) Size difference, size kink, authority kink, breath play, overstimulation, choking, over-the-desk, public but also not public, multiple rounds, hair pulling, fingering, cunnilingus, headboard banging, creampie, biting, marking, etc.

______________________________________________________________

You were going on the third week in your new base. Kortac. It was mid afternoon and you were making your rounds. Your evenly paced steps created tiny clicks on the hard floor, ringing out in the relative silence. A shout could be heard every once in a while from every other training room, usually someone being berated and called a maggot. This place was no boot camp, but they strictly kept up with training to whip everyone into shape. You yourself could’ve used the extra cardio, but instead you’re on your way to put bullets in walls.

You turned a sharp corner and took only a few steps, your eyes rested on the shadow of a lonely recruit sitting solemnly by himself, with only the open broom closet across the hall to illuminate his face.. You made an abrupt stop and tilted your head slightly. Your voice cut sharply into the stale air, “Soldier, is there a reason you aren't at your station right now?” 

The man’s head abruptly shoots up in your direction, eyeing you incredulously as he rises to his feet quickly straightening his posture. “What’s it to ya?” The corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. The soldier takes a few steps closer coming into the light of the main room, showing a rather rugged man but also well-kept. 

“Sarg was taking roll and sent me to seek out the stragglers.” You gave him a knowing look, already aware of the soldiers that were missing in training. You stood up straight and took a step back as the lone soldier finally entered the hall and stood over you with a strange glint in his eyes. You knew that look all too well, he wanted something. Although that ‘something’ was not clear, you had an inkling of what it was. As soon as that feeling appeared, it disappeared just as quick.

“How can you be certain that my name is on that list? I could outrank you for all your knowledge.” He grinned slyly as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Your name soldier.” You stood your ground as you looked at him, unmoving. As your conversation goes on, you’re both unaware of the new looming presence a few feet down the hall behind a cracked door.

He gave you a quick glance up and down, already aware of your position as a barracks bunny. One of his fellow companions had leaked that little detail the other night at meal time. “The name’s Marshall Matthers. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voiced dripped sensually. “Although I may know you more than you think.” Matthers unfolded his gear clad arms and shrugged with a smile.

You shifted your weight onto one foot and crossed your arms, lifting a brow in question. You should be telling him to get back to training, as informed to do. “And what, Private Matthers, do you mean by that?” Taking a firm step forwards looking at him quizzically. A small squeak of a door could be heard by someone that was paying attention. 

“It could mean whatever you want honey.” Matthers responded. You could tell what he was hinting at, his tone being more obvious than storm clouds in the sky. 

A hint of a smirk crossed your lips as he spoke. You cocked an eyebrow up at him and you gathered your composure to stop yourself from telling him off. You go to speak when you notice the man’s face in front of you drain of any and all color. His eyes go wide and he immediately looks back to you, apologizes and practically sprints down the hall to his designated training room, suddenly more interested in being berated than teasing you more. Your brows furl in confusion, mouth frozen in position as the words died on your tongue. 

A looming presence behind you sends chills up your spine and anxiety coursing through your veins. You take a step forward and slowly turn around, seeing a building of a man staring you down. Is this the nearly seven foot giant that has been whispered about around the base? Theres a lump in your throat as you try to swallow, mouth unbearably dry. You straighten your posture to the best of your abilities, putting a stern look on your face attempting to hide your uncertainty and uneven breath.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You notice the man looking you up and down, almost sizing you up rather than checking you out. Clearing your throat with a quick, “ahem,” the mountains eyes snap to your face. “And your name soldier?” You try to hide the small waver in your voice, if it had been anyone else you’d think it would go unnoticed, but the man noticed immediately. His eyes crinkle lightly, as if he were smirking under the veil of a t-shirt with two eye holes cut into it. 

“Colonel König, ma’am. And you?” he spoke lowly, thick austrian accent catching you off guard. His voice was smooth, slightly higher pitched than what you’d expect from a man of his build. Large broad shoulders, tall and wide stance, muscular arms crossed against his chest, clad in a bulletproof vest and enough gear to fill a tank. You found yourself spaced out, realizing you must have just been staring at him for a good five seconds before being quick to respond.

“My apologies Colonel, I was not made aware of who you are.” Standing about four feet apart, you and König stood, you clearly trying to remain professional while practically shrinking into yourself and him clearly enjoying having so much of an effect on you. “I was simply sent to collect any missing men for training. And now that I have, I will be on my way.” You nod and start to walk away when you hear him call from behind you.

“You don’t happen to be headed to training room C-16, do you?” The question stopped you in your tracks, how could he have known? I mean yes, he is the Colonel and should be aware of all the soldiers ranks and schedules. But the question remained, why would he be asking if he knew?

“That is correct Colonel. Is something the matter?” you ask over your soldier, hoping to avoid the uproar of anxiety you get from making eye contact with him. 

“Oh not at all, I am to be assisting with training in your group today. Shall we walk there together?” He took two long strides towards you, bumping his elbow into your shoulder as he passed. Clearly not a request, but a statement. You attempt to keep up with his fast pace, walking in silence with the tower of a man next to you. 

As the both of you neared the open training door, you slowed your pace slightly, as to enter behind him. His head peers back over his shoulder for a second before looking straight on. As you step into the full room, everyone's eyes seem to immediately land on the Colonel and then you, trailing in behind him. A few smirks and chuckles could be seen all around. You knew what they were thinking, seeing as your track record is quite widely known amongst the other men.

You walked to the side of the training room, feeling a few eyes still watching intently. König seemed to have realized the thoughts of the soldiers. He stopped in the center of the room, folding his hands behind his back, observing everyone. He knew of your midnight adventures, hearing about it from other soldiers personal conversations that he eavesdropped on. He decided to shut any ideas down before they could fully formulate. “Alright soldiers! Settle down and pay attention. No need to act like a bunch of idioten the moment one of your female comrades enters the room.”

All of their eyes snapped up and their postures straightened, everyone immediately resuming their work. You however were left standing in thought. Why would he feel the need to stand up for you like that? You two knew next to nothing about the other, much less have enough of a relationship to defend you like he just did. Was it purely just out of respect? Or did he have a underlying reason behind it, a different intent maybe? You’re snapped out of overthinking by a large hand waving in front of your face. 

“Welcome back to reality soldier, afraid we lost you for a second there. Everything alright?” König asked calmly. You didn’t know how to respond so you simply just nodded and walked over to a bench to place your stuff down. Although you weren’t yet aware of who your training buddy would be quite yet, you still sat down and quietly began preparing yourself for sparring. Just as you were about get up to ask who you would be partnering with, you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

“Looks as if you’ll be working with me today. I was told you are to work on sparring with enemies much larger than you in preparation for an upcoming mission.” Your heart jumps to your throat as you hear König continue. “I will be teaching you some strategies along with what not to do when up against an enemy twice the size of you, if the opportunity were to ever arise.” Frozen in place you begin to panic, how in the hell are you supposed to take down a man like him? He could easily snap you in half in seconds. You could already tell that today was going to be rough.

There was no doubt in your mind that your were strong, hell you would even be proud to announce that you were stronger and more agile than most of the men in the room currently. But König? That was where your confidence slightly faltered. Putting aside your worry, you confidently strided over to the mat, getting into sparring position with a determined look on your face. Across you stood the giant, now barren of his gear and equipment, t-shirt no longer over his face, instead wearing his baklava which he only wore during sparring. 

He’s stood straight, hands clasped in front of him and facing the group of fellow soldiers. “May I have everyone’s attention!” He spoke up, instantaneously getting the eyes of all in the room in which he continued. “I will be providing a scenario in which it may be difficult to fight back, I will be showing different moves and maneuvers that you may need to use to your advantage.” All eyes were on you and König, your breathing uneven. Looking back to your sparring partner, you see him getting into position. Before you even have time to react, he has gotten beside you, splaying his arm across the entirety of your chest holding onto your opposite shoulder pushing back; sweeping his foot into the backs of your knees, you fold immediately. 

You try to recover quickly, rolling over onto your stomach, attempting to push yourself up off the ground when he places his foot in the center of your back holding you down. He lectures the others on what you could have done in order to avoid this but it all goes in one ear and out the other as the air gets pushed out of your lungs. Finally, you get let back up as you gasp for oxygen, swiftly darting behind König to jump onto his back, locking your legs around his waist and putting him in a chokehold. Everyone looks shocked for an entirety of 2 seconds before you get flung over his shoulder, your back aching as you smash into the ground. 

Your eyes opened as you groaned. The sight you are met with is the Colonel’s body looming over yours, looking down, his eyes looked like they were holding a satisfied grin behind them. He reaches his arm out, and you grip onto it, being yanked up quickly onto your feet with your head spinning slightly. 

König faced the crowd of soldiers again, his voice cutting into them, “Okay. Now you have seen what not to do when facing a larger opponent. I’ll demonstrate again, but this time I will show what to do, ja?” His eyes looked around, seeing nodding heads as confirmation they were listening. He turned to you, holding his hands up, “Be in a standard defensive position, hands up, covering your stomach and head. The weakest spots.” He started to circle around you, so you moved opposite of him. He was speaking directly to you now, “Use your size to your advantage. You are smaller, so you can move quicker, and be harder to grab. Stay low to the ground, try to throw your opponent off balance.. Think on your feet. And never, ever second guess yourself.”

The second he completed his speech he darted towards you, and you drop like a bag of rocks in order to trip him. He stumbles but stays standing by which you grab his wrist and pull him over you, using the momentum of his rocking. He braces himself and somersaults forward to try and recover but as he goes to sit up, you lock onto him from behind. Your legs around his hips with your ankles crossed, locking his legs together as you wrap your arm around his neck and fall back. König tries to reach back and unlock the chokehold you have him in, when he realizes he can’t he starts to get even more harsh. Thrashing and attempting to retrieve airflow that he doesn’t think to pull your ankles apart, and finally he taps. 

You release your hold on him with a triumphant smirk, hearing him gasp for air inflating your confidence ten-fold. Obviously you offered him a hand and asked if he was okay, that’s more important than beating the nearly seven foot giant, that not a single person would ever think to go into a one on one combat with willingly. 

He stood with a lighthearted chuckle. He looked down and nodded his head in approval while replying, “Yes, I’m fine. That was good Corporal (L/n), I am more than mildly impressed with your efforts. And thank you for helping with my demonstration.” You stand straight with your head held high, eyes scanning the room, seeing the faces of the soldiers filled with a mix of nervous confusion and impressed anger. To think the only person to have the balls to attempt to take down the brick wall of an intimidating giant would be the one and only 5’6, 140 lb woman in the entire group.

“Alright soldiers, back to work. I want to see each and every one of you working hard. You have 2 hours.” König stated to everyone as he turns to refocus his attention on you. “Corporal (L/n), if you would please come with me, I would like to discuss the mission plans with you in my office.” You felt confused as to why he was asking about this when the mission isn’t for another couple months. However, swallowing down the confusion and putting on a blank face, you give him a curt nod and follow him out of the training room.

“I don’t mean to doubt your knowledge, Colonel, but if I’m not mistaken the mission isn’t until 4 months from now. How is it possible to have all of the information and suspects needed to start formulating plans on something we aren’t certain the future of?” The rhythmic pace of footsteps echoing in the empty barracks hallway. You and König walk side by side and the slow rising and falling of his chest helps to soothe the tension in the air.

To be continued...

I'm not totally sure when the second part will be out but take this for now...

[cocteaucherry]

co!worker nanami x reader

cws-perv nanami, pillow humping, masterbating (m), nanami being just pathetic overall, not proofread

(a/n- silly thing I wrote a few weeks ago

co!worker nanami who physically can’t be around you for too long.

It’s almost like an allergic reaction, his throat starts to close, his heart rate intensed and his skin turns a bright plush pink.

“Nanami-san! Do you think you can read through these papers for me?”

This was only one of the few times you ever spoke to him and Nanami automatically perked up.

“Y-yeah! No problem!” Smoothe he thought to himself mentally hoping he could take that out of the air.

“Great, just let me know!”

He watched you walk away, his eyes drawn to the sway of your hips and the way your pencil skirt hugged your ass

Nanami felt like- no WAS a perv for you and he didn’t appreciate his mind at all, you were a kind, classy person he didn’t need his mind to defile your image.

He felt the forbidden twitch his his slacks causing him to readjust his waistband, “fuck..” he whispered to himself glancing at the clock, he could last a few more hours only one more interaction with you.

You eventually came to get your paperwork back and his small talk mad wasn’t horrible just a few ‘no problems’ and ‘yeses’

When six pm hit his watch he was already packed up and ready to go, he made his way to the elevator strangely no one else was heading towards the elevator.

He was ready to finally exhale before he heard your voice, “Hold the door please!” Without thinking his hand stuck through the crack of the door it automatically opening to reveal your flushed face,

“Not now not now..” he scolded his mind immediately bringing his suitcase to cover the very apparent bulge in his slacks.

“Thank you Nanami-San! So any plans tonight?” You asked, stepping into the elevator as the first floor button dinged.

planning on fucking my pillow and hand thinking of you

The door closed and nanami cleared his throat, “Just gonna relax like usual,”

“Ah, forgive me for asking personal questions, how come you never go out drinking with us on Friday’s?”

Truth be told he never cared much for drinking with his colleagues but he’d surely change his opinion if you invited him.

“Never am interested, I don't choose to see anyone from my workplace during off hours.”

“Well I guess I can understand that, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess!” That damn smile you put on your face was too much, God he was such a freak.

“F-fuck..” the bed continued to creak under his movements as he thrusted into his folded pillow, his hands gripped the sides of the pillow imagining it was your plush hips and not this damn pillow.

He shut his eyes trying to imagine your intoxicating scent in that elevator, precum oozed into his pillow as he picked up the half finished bottle of lube squirting it onto his weeping cock.

Yup his pillow was done for sure.

“Damnit, keep fucking me- keep fucking-“ he grabbed his cock focusing on stroking only his top and giving his balls a tight squeeze.

A guttural groan came from his lips as he hunched over his abs clenching as he felt his hot seed spill onto his abs and his pillow. “That’s a good fucking girl,” he hummed slapping his softening cock on the pillow immagining it was your bruised soft ass.

A sigh left his mouth as he stood up walking towards his personal bathroom, he leaned on his counter staring at himself in post- nut clarity.

Why the fuck was he so pathetic?

[kaishinbigbang]

Kaishinbigbang 2024 Artist WIP Doc Revealed!

Hello there friends! Writer sign-ups open this Thursday, May 16! This means it’s time to reveal what the artists have been working so hard on these past few weeks!

If you are a writer and interested in collaborating with an artist to create something new for the Kaishin fandom, this event is for you!

Important info

Writer sign-ups begin MAY 16 and go until MAY 21 or until all artists are claimed, whichever comes first. Writers should have looked over this document prior to signing up as the claiming process goes quick!

Writers must write a minimum of 3,000 words

More information can be found on the faq page, and the schedule is here.

An overview of the process

Writers will have five days to peruse the WIP doc to see if someone’s art or summary catches your eye! Please use the link below to check out our amazing artists.

Interested writers will sign up when the form opens at 9:00 CDT on MAY 16. At the end of the form there will be a link to the claiming document. Claiming will be first-come, first-served. It is a good idea to have several artists in mind when you go to the claiming document!

A more in-depth explanation will be posted the day before sign-ups open, so keep an eye out!

follow the link to check out the artists’ work!

If you have any questions please feel free to ask!

Thank you @eventfeed @thebigbangblogproject

[abouttofillhisshoes]

lenaaaaaa god help me I’m so high rn I’m thinking about mpind matty pole dancing ans also giving girlie a lap dance fhis isnt good or my health I think

dont be shy pass the spliff

also mpind comeback after a bunch of wank everyone be happy x

Love me - Matty Healy

A/N: bit wanky, barely spell checked except for @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff 's weird sim reactions to whatever i write. Legend anon i hope this is filthy enough for you my love xx

wc: 4.5k

content warnings: smut, fluff, tw: my shitty comedy, handjobs, strip clubs, its george's birthday!!, begging, teasing, lap dance, matty in lingerie pt. 43, mentions of alcohol, lots of swearing, cumplay, grinding, it gets a bit sappy guys soz, sub!Matty

“A strip club? Are you never scared of being a cliché?” you scoff as the venue comes into view, strobing neon flashing in your face. The summer night is warm, a breeze kissing your skin as the gravel crackles under your feet, your quite high heels still not making you taller than George. 

His birthday, the big one eight, was today, and his chosen place was of course, a local strip club.

“If that cliché is seeing half naked girls, no.” he sniggers, Matty’s bickering with Ross and Hann faintly heard behind you. You hook your arm into his as you approach the bouncer, the line surprisingly short. 

“I forget you're an actual man sometimes.”

“How can you possibly forget?!” he lets go, flexing his muscles at you as some sort of display of masculinity, making you giggle behind your hand.

Matty takes this ample opportunity to swoop in from behind, pressing the side of his body up against yours. The four of you watch George proudly present his real I.D to the bouncer, a wide smile on his face as he takes it from him. The bloke gives him a weird once-over, waving him and the rest through without a hitch. 

It's bright inside, but not in the way you would assume. Different colored lights strobe around, switching every 20 seconds or so, the heavy bass of the music thrumming through your veins. Matty hangs on your arm as you look around, George immediately booking it to a booth with a stage as the table, wanting the best front row seat to the show. You roll your eyes at his eagerness, but then again, who could blame him? 

Everyone files into the booth, George ending up wedged in the corner of the seating, uncomfortable but glass he could stretch his legs out under the table. 

“Round of pints on me, happy birthday G. '' Everyone cheers, excluding Hann, who glares at Matty from across the table.

“Oh so now you have money? What about last week?” Ross lets out a quiet snigger, liking this turn of events. 

“Shut up you cunt, it's G’s birthday! Lighten up a bit, old man.” 

“Matty when I get my fucking hands on you-” Ross to the rescue, he presses a hand to his mate’s chest, keeping him seated. 

“Alright girls, break it up.” he gives up, mouthing a curt ‘fuck you’ at Matty, rolling his eyes. 

The waitress returns from the bar, bringing a platter of glasses with her. She sets them down, smiling at you before walking away, the neon lights of the club making her eyes shimmer. 

“Cheers, happy 18th mate.” Matty plants a wet kiss on George’s face, making him squirm away in disgust. 

“Get off you grade A wanker, your girl’s right there.” You blow him a kiss as Matty turns to you, licking a fat stripe up the side of your face, from your jaw to your cheekbone. Everyone at the table groans at his odd display of affection, Ross dramatically shielding his eyes and muttering incoherently as Matty finally sits back down, downing the rest of his pint. 

Sure enough, right in the middle of Hann’s interesting story about his last date, a dancer comes over to the table. She climbs up, eyeing George, twirling around the pole a few times before doing this flip you didn't even know was humanly possible. The bralette she’s wearing glimmers in the light, reflecting off and into your eyes, distracting you.  

George stares blatantly, eyes raking up and down her body as she dances, not letting her leave his line of sight. It's so obvious and she smirks at him, turning her body to face his direction before bending over, exposing her cleavage even more.  

“Don't be a knob.” you hiss, not wanting to seem rude.

“She’s fit and it's quite literally her job!” a small laugh escapes the woman as she goes to speak, flattered at the exchange. 

“It’s alright love, look all you want.” 

“See!” George shouts a bit too loudly, proud of his correctness in strip club etiquette.

You sigh, nodding at her as Matty pokes your side. 

“She is fit.” you whisper quietly, gesturing to her. Matty perks up, shoving you in offense.

“I'm fitter, don't forget.” you giggle at the statement, refusing to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.  

“She’s literally sparkling, I need to know what brand that is.” The rhinestone adorned lingerie set she was wearing captivated everyone at the table, hugging her curves in all the right places.  

“Who’s to say I'm not either?” your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but you brush him off.

“Shut it, don't be a tosser.” his hand grips yours right before he speaks, bringing it down to the waistband of his jeans. “I’m not.”

He uses your fingers to pull it down about an inch, revealing a pretty string of purple under his bottoms. Your breath hitches at the realization, eyes snapping up to meet his. Was he serious? Now?

“It’s George’s birthday.” you state, voice hushed so the others could overhear your conversation. Hann was already off to buy another round, leaving Ross and George to make ‘friendly’ conversation with the dancer, shamelessly staring at her tits the entire time. “He won't mind, just look at him.” 

Sure enough, George is ogling the dancer, lips parted and being such a boy it hurts. She’s clearly enjoying the attention as he leans forward, stuffing a wad of cash into the flimsy waistband of her thong, smirking. 

“He’s already imagining a future with her, look!”

She sets a paper crown on his head with the words ‘birthday boy’ on it, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. A boyish blush spreads onto George’s face as her kiss leaves a mark of lipstick, Ross quickly snapping a photo of him to take the piss when they left.   

“He desperately needs a lay, it's sad.” you comment, knowing it had been ages since his last girlfriend or even hookup, too focused on his coursework and music to go out more than the few times you forced him to. 

“So do I, so I'd prefer it if we didn't drag this out.” 

Matty gets up, climbing over you despite your quite loud protests, announcing his trip to the dance floor. You wait a few moments before following him, the sway of his hips and faint back muscles under his mesh shirt flexing as he walks, convincing you to just go with it, hoping whatever he had planned wasn't totally scandalous and wouldn't get you kicked out of the place. 

He turns right past the dance floor, leading you into a narrow corridor off to the side. You catch up to him, close behind him as he slips a dancer some cash, nodding as he makes his way to the door at the end of the hall. Matty rushes in before you, the door almost slamming in your face. ‘Private room’ flashes back at you in yellow neon, making you raise your eyebrows.

The room is dark for the first few seconds as you hear Matty shuffling. Suddenly, the room lights up, giant mirrors covering the walls and ceiling, reflecting the light back and forth. You glance around, eyes landing on Matty. 

A tall pole is the centerpiece of the room, pink metal running from the floor to the ceiling. Matty leans on it, left hand wrapping around it as he spins, smirking at you as you watch him, something stirring inside of you. 

“Did you plan this?” you ask, a skeptical look on your face.

“Maybe.” his fingers run up his chest, playing with his nipples right in front of you. His voice drips with lust, coating your mind with only a few words, making it difficult to get even semi-coherent sentences out.

“Jesus, you're mental.” you gasp softly as he moves, fluid and sure, captivating you with every change of direction.

“But you love me, now sit.” you listen, not knowing what else you were meant to do in this situation. The chair is soft, cushions letting you settle in comfortably. 

“Everything is so pink.” you mutter, gesturing to the mirror frames and pole, every surface some variation of the same color.

“Sort of the point, yeah? To set the mood.” he smirks, trailing his hands up his waist, letting his nails graze against his skin, mimicking the same thing you do to him. “Mood for what?”

“You’ll see, be patient.” you roll your eyes at his words, the palms of your hands rubbing against the soft pillow of your chair. “That's rich.” 

“Please, for me?” He sounds so sweet, like he was asking you to bring him a glass of water, not to stay still while he touched himself in front of you. 

“We both know I can't deny you.” 

“How true.” he sucks in a deep breath, throwing his head back as he holds eye contact. 

“Watch.” 

“What do I-?” you stutter over your words, your heart beating rapidly against your chest as he feels himself up, fingers ghosting over his tattoos.

“Me, keep your eyes on me.”

He turns his attention back to the pole next to him, strutting around it as the music from the dancefloor dictates his movements, his back pressed to the cool metal. Matty parts his lips as he slides down it, running a hand over his chest performatively, watching your every reaction. 

Your breathing becomes more shallow as he moves, thousands of fantasies running through your mind. He knows the effect he has on you, everything he does is purely to rile you up, make you lose your composure. 

“You’re mad, this is-” he cuts you off with a sly smile.

“Incredibly hot? I’d rather you enjoy the show than talk over it.” you scrunch up your face at the implication that this was a performance, even if you did expect nothing less from Matty. 

“Show?”

He runs a hand through his slightly messed up hair, showing off his neck as you stare at him, biting your lip between your teeth to keep from embarrassing yourself. 

“I hate you.” you mumble as the music changes, some hip-hop song coming on. The faint cheers of the people outside are barely audible, but it serves to remind of just where you were. The guys were still at the table, most likely speculating the reason as to why the two of you have been missing that long, Ross surely already making crude comments that neither Hann nor George wanted to think about.

“You won't if you just wait.” you grip the edge of your seat, blushing profusely as he struts over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck. His breath is hot against your neck, leaning over you as he settles into your lap. You finally clock it.  

“Stay still.” he ‘orders’, attempting to mimic the way you speak to him when he doesn't listen.

“Are you giving me a lap dance?” he frowns at you, shaking his head in disappointment. A chuckle escapes you as the reality of the situation dawns on you. 

“No need to define it darling, let it be abstract.” of course he’d say something like that, try to salvage the ‘artistic’ affair, failing miserably. 

“You’re giving me a fucking lapdance, christ.” it's genuinely amusing. Your heart swells up at the thought of all the effort that went into this. Paying off the dancer with god only knows how much money, turning you on at the table just enough so you’d follow him, and probably even setting up the lighting in the room himself. 

“You're such a bore, let me have my fun.” he kisses you, giggling into your mouth. His lips are warm against yours, your lip gloss rubbing off on him. “Oh, I will.” you promise, letting your hands fall limp as he grips your shoulders, rocking his hips back and forth. His movements are exact, practiced even as he grinds down onto you before lifting his body back up, bringing his hip tattoo up to eye level. 

You don't think, mind clouded with desire and want. His shirt had ridden up a bit, and your rough tongue drags across the inked skin, warm against it as he shudders, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the sensation. 

“No touching the dancers” he tuts, coming back down on top of you.

“I’m exempt from that rule.” you say, your voice surprisingly steady despite the white hot heat pooling between your legs.

“According to whom?” 

“You.”

You let your hands settle onto his waist, gripping him so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next day.

“Fuckk, yeah okay,” he groans, the pressure on the front of his jeans increasing as all the blood in his head rushes south, his mind hazy. 

“C’mon baby, finish your little performance.”

He moves to get off, smirking as you let him. You can see indents in his skin where you grabbed him, the sight making your breath hitch. He circles around you like a predator does his prey, wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

His hands trail up your chest, fingers grazing over your exposed collarbones. Your skin flushes under his touch and you let out a soft moan at the feeling, earning a proud smile from Matty. 

“You’re so gorgeous. I have to force myself to not get hard whenever you look at me.” his voice is sultry against your ear, making goosebumps bloom on the skin of your neck. “Oh, way to exaggerate.” you snigger, not quite believing him. 

“Honest truth.” he swears, instinctively doing the ‘scouts honor’ sign with his hand. 

You snort, your little giggling fit interrupted by his mouth trailing sickly sweet kisses up your neck and to your jaw.

It doesn't take him long to make his way back around, your heart skipping a beat when he comes back into view. His chest is glistening with sweat, the warm temperature of the room clearly getting to him. Most notably, you notice the front of his jeans is unbuttoned and unzipped, flaring out on both sides, revealing almost the entirety of the silky, purple panties he had chosen to wear. 

He relishes in your reaction, the attention making his ego grow exponentially as he moves back into your lap. Your hands trail up his chest, doing your best to not immediately pay attention to the underwear. You can't resist, though. 

“These are new.” you toy with the thin straps, silk reflecting the colored light beautifully. You can see a note of pride ripple through him as you admire the material, grazing his cock through it.

“Got them just for you, you like?” The question is so obviously rhetorical. Of course you like, no, love them. “So much.” your words are laced with love, soft and appreciative of all the effort he puts into getting you off, fulfilling your fantasy.

The way he looks at you is sinful, thoughts dancing behind his eyes visible as he stares, waiting for your next move.

He lets out a soft groan when you push him down into your thigh, biting his lip at you provocatively. “You're hard.” you smile as you say the words, his gaze softening when he sees the blissed out look at your face, eyes raking over his body. Even (almost) fully clothed, he was absolutely beautiful. 

“See? Wasn't lying.” he presses a kiss behind your left ear, gently moving your hair out of the way. It’s loving, so honest. “You sure it's not because of the mirror behind me?” you still cant help but tease him, gesturing to the giant mirror your back was facing. He blushes in response, stealing a glance at his reflection. 

“You’re so cruel! I’ll just stop then, seeing as all you see me as is some egotistical deviant.” he threatens, crossing his arms over his chest in retaliation. You bring a hand up to cup his face, stroking his cheek softly, almost patronizing. Your mind swims with the power you have over him. 

“You wont stop, you couldn't if you tried.” For the first time that evening, you call his bluff, the way he reacts to you exquisite as his lips part, no words coming out. Silence fills the room, even the music on the other side of the door seeming to die down. How long have the two of you been here?

“Am i right?” you question, not letting him off the hook like you usually would.  

“..yeah–” his words are small, and you know you have him right where you want him. The lightest, slightest touch could send him hurtling over the edge, his hips rutting desperately into your hand as you palm him through his underwear.

“So pretty for me, doing all of this. Thank you baby.” you whisper into his ear as he gasps under your touch. It's so incredibly intimate that you can't help but drop your facade for a few seconds, kissing him sweetly, his lips moving against yours with desperation.  

“Anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Mhm.”

You take his cock out of the confines of his underwear, a sigh of relief falling from his parted lips as your fingers ghost over the tip, teasing him. 

“Just stay still, let me make you feel good.” you murmur, feeling him up under his shirt, your nails digging into the skin of his back. He shifts on top of you, his body yearning for your touch.

“Please.”

You reach down to wrap your manicured fingers around his cock, the sight of the pretty colors of your nails around him making his eyes roll back in his head, his mind spinning with all sorts of possibilities, mostly focused on not finishing right in that moment. 

Tugging lazily on his cock, you drag your fingers from the base to the tip, a satisfying whimper spilling from Matty’s lips, the sound spreading through your entire body. His back arches against you and the kiss he presses against your mouth tastes like the cigarettes he chainsmoked on the way to the club, mixing deliciously with the hint of alcohol on his breath. 

“Let go for me, feel it.”

He trembles, the noise he lets out is desperate, filthy, shooting straight to your core. Everything is heightened. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he leans forward into you, chest pressing against yours as you run your fist up and down his cock, small whimpers of pleasure spurring you on. 

“Fuckk, that feels so good–” 

Matty’s words are choked, his effort to hold back a bit obvious. He’s hungry, wanting, evident in the way he ruts into your hand, his fingers digging into the skin of your shoulders, the sharp pain making you sigh, pleased. 

“Be nice and loud for me, let me hear you.” you coo into his ear, your free hand dragging up his back under his shirt, the mesh bunching up. “So good to me, treat me so well, god– shit.”

He twitches as you dig your thumb into his slit, a shiver spreading through his body 

The way he’s not even undressed is obscene, the fabric of his jeans gathering under his hips as he’s perched on top of you, feet planted firmly on the floor for leverage. You watch him, engrossed in pleasure, completely blissed out expression on his face. His head is thrown back, exposing his pale neck, faded hickeys and marks still visible from your last encounter. 

“You're staring” he breathes, your eyes snapping up to meet him. A filthy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, your focus on him and only him. His hair falls over his face, obscuring it slightly, much to your disdain.  

“You're giving me reason to” you brush curls out of his face as your movements still, letting him speak properly, uninterrupted. 

“Yeah, I want you to look at me.”

You smile lovingly, cocking your head slightly to the left as you tease him, one of your fingers twirling his hair. 

“Gets you off, my attention?” he doesn't even try to deny it, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere. 

“Mhm-m” he nods, panting. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, silently begging you to continue.

His hips stutter as you grip his cock tighter, your other hand stroking his face sweetly as you stare into each other's eyes, his face flush as pornographic moans spill from his lips. His back arches again, your bodies pressed against each other as your hand snakes between the two of you.

“F-fuck, i’m so close, please let me cum, please.” His voice is high-pitched and whiny, tears threatening to spill at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“You beg so nicely, let me hear you baby.” you whisper words of encouragement as his hips buck up into your hand involuntarily, every ounce of self control in him dissipating. 

“I need it so bad, please i've been so good for you.”

He hiccups in a way that almost makes you feel bad, his desperation so obvious. You speed up a bit, just a bit, giving him that sweet, sweet relief he’s been begging for for god knows how long now.

“P-please, oh fuck, yesyesyes fuck.” precum bubbles at the tip of his cock, and you smear it down, coating him in his own arousal. It's unbelievably hot, his entire body twitching at the sight of your fingers on his cock, a sight he desperately tries to commit to memory. 

“You’re leaking all over my hand darling, so filthy.” he whines into your neck, and you lick across his jaw, making him shiver

“Make a mess, c’mon, come for me.” an animalistic groan fills your ears as he rapidly approaches his orgasm, writhing under your touch.

“Y-yeah– fuck thats so good, your hand feels so good, fucking made for me.”

Matty’s possessive nature made your head spin with lust, his eyeliner smudging down his face as he stares into your eyes with such an intensity it felt like he was going to consume you.

His skin glows under the soft pink lighting, making him seem ethereal, like a true angel. His noises are like music to your ears as he spills into your hand, spurts of cum coating your bare stomach, barely missing your (quite expensive) cropped shirt. Matty kisses you immediately after, hands threading through your hair as he drinks you in, stealing your breath straight from your lungs. 

Wordlessly, one of his hands moves down, gathering the remnants of his orgasm onto two fingers, tapping your mouth with the other. You indulge him, parting your lips to let him push his digits past them, the salty taste of him taking over your senses. His pupils are completely blown out in desire, not able to process what was happening in front of him, a loopy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart swell up with love 

“Perfect.” he mumbles as you lick his fingers clean, smiling mischievously at his dazed gaze. Matty pulls you in, holding you close, desperate to not let go.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where were you two?” Ross’s voice is accusatory as the two of you finally return to the booth, the dancer from before having already left. A faint blush spreads onto your cheeks as the memories of not 20 minutes go flash through your mind. Hann doesn't help your situation at all.

“Probably shagging, just look at him.” your head turns, seeing Matty’s blissed out expression, a content smile replacing his usual nasty grin. You elbow him in the ribs, a silent plea to say something, but he promptly ignores your silent begging. 

“Shut up you dickhead, you don't know shit.” 

George points at Matty, now grinning wildly, reminiscing about the events of tonight. He’s oddly calm, which would be concerning if it wasn't for the monstrous case of post-sex hair he currently had 

“Jesus, what did you even do to him?” George is taking the absolute piss out of you, and for good enough reason. 

“I don't kiss and tell.” you attempt to change the conversation topic as you settle back into the booth, commenting on the pint glasses. You're ignored in favor of laughing at you further while matty remains completely unbothered, the glow he emitted so fucking obvious it hurt.  

“Well he sure does, I've heard much more than necessary.” Ross sniggers, pulling a face at the not-so-distant memory of Matty’s sex bonfire-storytelling session that had happened a few weeks prior (not at an actual bonfire, but on the floor of your living room, completely pissed while you were out with your girlfriends.)

“Did you at least wash your hands?” Hann asks, the question directed at Matty, whose hands were loosely wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass. 

“Didn't have to.” he grins, waving his hands in Adam’s face proudly, like it was some sort of achievement. 

“Oh fucking hell, too much info.” George groans, cupping his face in his hands at the mental image of what he thought had just happened. You laugh inwardly, the whole situation absurd. This was the furthest you had ever gotten in discussing anything relating to your relationship with Matty, and it honestly felt weird.

“I’m never touching you again mate, no fucking way.” Ross stated, a disgusted look on his face. “Awwe Ross, how will you do without my touch?” You make grabby hands at him, climbing over George to drape yourself over the booth, touching his hair and face, Matty’s and Hann’s hysterical laughter spurring you on. “GET OFF ME!!” he yells, clawing at you to push you away, absolutely mortified. 

George, slightly more pissed than the rest of you, announces his mission to get the dancers number, swearing up and down that “She had this look in her eye, i’m so fucking serious.” he manages to stumble over his shoes about three times before finally standing up straight, brushing off any ‘dust’ (crisps) that clung to his raggedy band tee. 

“Good luck mate, not that you need it.” Hann tries to be encouraging, knowing just as well as the rest of you how George got when he had a few too many pints. Terribly emotional and impulsive, there was no stopping him once he had his sights set on something, or in this case, someone.

“I definitely don't” he glares at you over his shoulder, strutting across the dance floor in direction of where he’d last seen her. 

As he walks away, Ross sniggers.

“He definitely does.” and you can't help but giggle along as he trips over a stray stair, falling right onto his face. Hann goes to help him up, ignoring your collective jeers to “Stop ruining his chances at true love!”

With an ice pack pressed to his face, George can only roll his eyes at the various comments for the rest of the night, despite it being his birthday.

[chaesparklez]

금빛 노을 아래 한 고백 | gunwook x reader

wc: 1.5k

reader: gender neutral

content: flashfic, fluff, some teasing, romance, school setting, kissing, fluttery feelings <3

a/n: this is my first time writing for gunwook! the title translates to ‘a confession under a golden sunset’. as my bias wrecker he has such a special place in my heart and i hope my writing captured him as beautifully as he is. also added the bibi song since i had it on repeat writing this and feel like it encapsulates the vibe of this scenario so well. enjoy!

warm sunlight streams through the blinds spilling onto the desks of the empty classroom, silent aside from the distant sounds of a few students shuffling through the corridors going home after their extracurriculars.

the classroom is bathed in a golden glow from the the waning sun. you stretch your hand out before you, waving your fingers and tilting your head to the side as you watch the silhouette of your hand dancing on the wall before you. you bring your hand closer to your eyes so the dark shadow draws nearer and nearer till it obliviates the wall in a mass of black...

"hey! what are you doing?"

you jump so hard you nearly scream. gunwook leans against the doorway with a cheshire cat grin plastered on his face.

"what the hell gunwook?? god, you startled me. my heart's beating so fast." you scowl.

"isn't that just because you like me?"

"what the fuck."

you and gunwook had a contentious relationship. in simple terms, he always annoyed the hell out of you. you don't even know when he popped into your life, but all of a sudden he was always around you, teasing you and pulling pranks acting like you'd known eachother for years. you weren't sure whether you found it funny or just annoying.

'where even were you? teacher kim put us both on cleaning duty today.'

"why are you so interested in me?" he replies, wiggling his eyebrows in mocking.

you roll your eyes. "whatever. i'm halfway done anyway," you sigh. taking the chalkboard eraser and beginning to wipe logarithms from the board with long swipes.

he clears his throat.

"hey... im sorry. i actually wanted to help this time." he says, scratching the back of his head and giving you a bashful look.

you snicker. "what the hell? why are you being nice to me? are you going to shove a fake cockroach down my shirt again?"

he'd already tried that one three times this week, the last time culminating in you chasing him down the hallway screaming and being caught by teacher kim- hence you both ending up on cleaning duty.

he begins to move closer.

"do not come closer, park gunwook. i swear to god, one more fake cockroach and you'll be on the floor crying."

"no, i-"

the classroom is suddenly filled with an eruption of screams and laughter. gunwook hadn't listened to you (as usual) continuing to grow nearer- so you'd clapped the erasers in his face creating a poof of chalkboard dust in the air.

"what was that for?" he coughs, tempting to wave away the billow of dust.

"it's what you get!" you jeer, happy to have caught him off guard for once.

you place the erasers back and begin to sweep. gunwook follows you with all the manner of a lost puppy, just awkwardly trailing next to you as you make your away around the room.

"gunwook, i literally can't see with your big head in the way."

"what do you mean big??"

"your shadow is so massive it's covering the floor and i can't see."

"don't make things up."

"i'm not! look at your shadow! you’re practically blocking the sun like a titan.”

"well.. don't you like tall guys?"

you pause at the sudden but earnest question. a pale pink blush was seeping across his cheeks, his eyes fixed on some other spot in the room. what was wrong with him today?

you sigh, too tired to ponder on it, and continue sweeping.

"what are you even saying.." you mumble in reply. 'just get out of my way.'

"okay, fine. is there at least a task for me to do?"

"go sharpen the pencils. at least make yourself useful if you're gonna bother me."

~~

"sung hanbin." he says from the other side of the room.

"what?" you swivel your head to where gunwook stands sharpening the pencils. his eyes hadn't left the floor, continuing his task calmly.

he stays silent so you draw nearer to him, puzzled. "what do you mean?" you ask again.

"you mentioned it to haneul the other day," he says quietly. 'that you like sung hanbin. that he's so kind, and dances so well, and he's so tall..."

you squint your eyes at him. did he listen to your conversations?

‘i'm tall too. my mom said by the time i turn 21 i'll be 190cm.’ he says, knuckles white as his hand grips the pencil sharpener. he pauses. ‘and im taller than sung hanbin.’

"what are you even saying?" you laugh. you place the broom aside and perch yourself on a desk. 'why are you suddenly mentioning him?'

"what's your ideal type?" he asks suddenly, voice cracking a little at the end of the sentence.

you snort and nearly blurt out a tart reply before noticing he's not teasing you. his blush had spread across his cheeks as he stared down at his hands bashfully. you blink, confused at this awkward vibe he's been channelling since earlier. you clear your throat attempting to think of an answer.

"well.. i mean, i don't have a fixed type. i guess it depends on the person. and i don't *like* sung hanbin," you say, attempting not to make a sarcastic remark. 'i just think he's handsome. like literally everyone else at school.'

"so you do like him?"

"oh my god, gunwook, i just said no. why does it even matter anyway? do *you* like me?" you say, exasperated.

his pupils waver as he stops sharpening the pencil for a second. he swallows.

"and what if i did?"

"i'd throw myself off the roof,” unable to hold in the sarcastic reply this time. what was he even getting at?

he places the tools down, his eyes finally breaking away from the pencil and gazing at yours.

"am i really that bad to you?" he asks, pupils wavering in his big brown eyes.

you're so caught off guard by his docility that you just blurt whatever comes to mind.

"i-i mean, i didn't mean it that way. you make me laugh, and you're smart, and you are tall like you said.. but you're always teasing me so i never thought of you that way.."

gunwook begins to take slow steps towards you, visage illuminated by the sunset.

"do you know why i always tease you?"

you blink, confused. "because you want a reaction?"

"because i want your attention. i want you to notice me, to look at me. i like your laugh, and your expression when i annoy you, and everything about you makes me want to carry on making you notice me. you’re always on my mind."

somewhere through his monologue your heart had started beating so hard you could almost see the pulsations through your white shirt. your pupils waver as you look at him.

"do you understand what im saying?" he asks.

"gunwook, i..." you say, voice coming out in a whisper.

"i like you."

your heart almost stops beating. now standing before you as you perched on the desk so you had to crane your neck up slightly to meet his shining eyes. he swallows as he gazes into your eyes, expression soft.

and in the golden glow of sunlight, you notice for the first time that he is beautiful. the sun illuminates his eyes the shade of honey, his jet black hair moving gently over his dark brows from the balmy wind breezing through the classrooms. and he really was so tall. tall, with wide shoulders and big hands that would give the warmest safest hugs…

he gently places a large hand on the small of your back, the distance between you even smaller now. the sound of a nearby wind-chime rings softly from the window as you look up into his eyes, your gaze travelling down to his lips.

and he kisses you. gently, sweetly, the rashness that you knew him for distant. his touch is delicate, the temperature of his warm hand on your back relaxing you into his embrace. his full lips are soft and warm against yours. he cups your face with his other hand, thumb brushing over your cheek. you lock your hands around his neck, melting into his touch.

his lips part and move in time with your own, allowing you to deepen the kiss. in that moment, your heart feels full and warm in his gentle embrace. both your hearts beat wildly as you slowly retract, hearing the quiet sound of each other's rugged breaths. your lips tingle with the lingering sensation of his lips on yours, your eyes remaining on his as you stare at his face inches from you.

his skin golden from the sunlight, rosy cheeks glowing, you suddenly feel the urge to touch his soft skin. you brush a finger along his smooth cheek, feeling the heat of his skin from the blush. he smiles as he looks into your eyes, and you notice something for the first time: a faint dimple on his right cheek. the very smile that you had always found so annoying, you had suddenly become fond of at the sight of it.

“i never noticed you had a dimple there before,” you whisper, caressing his cheek.

“look at me more from now on. i’ll smile lots for you,” he replies, taking your hand and leaving a gentle kiss on your knuckle.

the sound of the wind-chime harmonises with the laughter you share, dust particles floating and shimmering in the air under the golden sunset.