#and the underlying expectation that it *should* be him at first

[jennarations]

Landoscar drabble with the prompt combo:

“Omegaverse” + “Do you want me to stay?”

forty minute sprint with my tsgc babes :)

1k under the cut!

The first time Oscar meets his new PR handler he falls for him. Literally.

The man, slight framed but with miles of toned muscle and fistfuls of curls atop his head, has Oscar so dazed that he misses the last step up into the motorhome and falls headfirst into the floor.

But then he’s grabbing at Oscar’s arms, apologizing and pulling him to his feet. The smell of ocean water and fresh cherries fills his nostrils and Oscar has to hold himself back from gulping in that delightful scent.

“I hope you’re usually more coordinated than this?” The man barks out softly as he’s steadying Oscar against the doorframe.

Oscar nods in a hopefully convincing manner and feels a laugh bubble out of him.

—

Oscar hides his underlying attraction fairly well over the next few months, holding back from trying to scent his PR handler in the middle of the paddock, not only for his own sake but for Lando’s.

He and Lando have become friends, he thinks. Hopes.

While they maintain a very professional working relationship, he likes that when they leave the paddock or even just duck into his driver’s room, the professional facade melts off of Lando and he seems much more lax.

“But like. Mcdonald’s is just objectively better than Burger King.” Lando says, lounging the length of Oscar’s bed.

Oscar strides out of the bathroom, toweling his hair ferociously. “Agree to disagree. How about we get Burger King this time and then Mcdonald’s in Singapore?”

Lando mulls this over in his head for a moment before lolling his head lazily towards Oscar. “Only if you’re paying.” He smiles, flashing his canines in the low light of the hotel room.

Oscar pushes down at the heat in his stomach and hitches a shuddering breath. “Sure. But it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Lando squawks and throws himself into an upright position. “You wouldn’t.”

Oscar bites his lip. “Nah, I wouldn’t.”

—

The thing about having omegas in the paddock is that they usually have to wear scent blockers. It’s an old fashioned mindset and Oscar rolls his eyes whenever he thinks of those kinds of rules, but there’s nothing really to be done about it.

The thing with Lando is, even through scent blockers, Oscar can smell him a mile away.

So the moment that Oscar smells Lando’s usual sweet and salty scent flooded with fear, his body is tense and he feels dread pour into his posture.

He stands from the table he’s sitting at with several engineers, forcefully enough that his chair is sent careening backwards.

Oscar is pushing away from the table and catapulting himself out of the motorhome before any of the engineers can even get a word out of him.

All he smells is Lando’s fear. His body feels like it’s on fire and his heart clenches horribly in his chest. He’s pushing through throngs of people in the street outside the motorhomes searching, desperately, for that familiar mop of curls.

When he thinks his heart is about to leap out of his chest, Oscar turns to find Lando trying to push away from an unfamiliar man. An unfamiliar alpha.

Oscar has no idea he’s growling until both men turn to him with big, owlish eyes.

The other alpha flashes his canines at Oscar and tightens his hold over Lando’s arm. Oscar feels a wave of anger overwhelm his system and for a minute he completely short circuits.

He’s against Lando, shielding him with his body and pushing himself between the two. The alpha seems to finally recognize where he is, and who he’s posturing at and releases Lando’s arm. The man blinks several times, taking in a breath, before angrily stomping away.

Oscar turns slowly, and while coming down from the high of adrenaline, he expects Lando to be upset with him, yell at him, tell him that he could take care of himself, because he could. It’s not Oscar’s place even slightly to just assume that he should step into Lando’s business.

But what he finds, however, is Lando gently snaking his arms around Oscar’s neck, pressing himself into Oscar’s space. And Oscar is a weak man. So he winds his own arms around Lando’s waist and tugs him in closer, placing his head over Lando’s shoulder.

Oscar doesn’t realize he’s scenting Lando in the middle of the paddock until there’s a million photos of it flooding twitter later that day.

Scenting Lando was certainly not his smartest move, but what he finds intermingling with Lando’s scent certainly overpowers any care about those pictures.

There’s a second, lighter scent, starting to form there.

—

Oscar threatens to quit the following day.

He stands in front of Zak Brown, and threatens to leave and go straight to the other competitors that have been courting him for months.

The reason? The PR team thought it would be better to fire the pregnant omega that went viral on twitter for hugging their star driver.

Zak has Lando reinstated almost immediately.

—

“Sorry you almost got fired.”

“Sorry I made you go viral on twitter.”

Oscar scratches his head and settles in closer next to Lando on the hotel bed. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time.”

Lando shifts and punches Oscar’s shoulder the tiniest bit, giving him a tired smile.

Oscar feels himself mirror that smile but then his heart plummets into his stomach.

“So. About your scent. The other day.” Oscar starts, unsure where to take the conversation from there.

Lando squishes further into Oscar’s side. “Yeah.” He gets out shakily. “I know.”

Oscar picks at his nails. “Was it? I mean, did you want this?”

Lando snorts. “Did I seem like I was thrilled to be telling that guy from the other day?”

Oscar hums thoughtfully. “I can make sure you never have to see him again.”

Lando rubs a circle into Oscar’s wrist, mindlessly pulling the offending hand away from the other one.

“I don’t know what I’ll do.” Lando says quietly, a little broken sob escaping.

Oscar thinks for a moment. He takes in Lando’s now familiar scent of salt and cherries, noting the slight little change which he registers is now the baby’s forming scent.

“Do you want me to stay?” Oscar offers, turning so he’s looking at Lando.

Lando blinks the wetness out of his eyes, “Would it be selfish if I said yes?”

Oscar simply brushes the hair off of Lando’s forehead and kisses it softly.

“Not at all. You got me for as long as you want me.”

[odysseys-blood]

literally how i feel any time i read this line. absolutely NOT

i think he's a great mirror type character for the mc depending on how much you draw on the default ra-on and their characterization, but more specifically their feeling of inferiority to solomon (which i take for my mc loyal). both the mc and bael are stuck filling in for a role for a king that neither feels they're well equipped for or were even born to hold and the fact that bael's so used to taking the fall that he's automatically ready to do it for you too is just. man. orz

[malfoyscoffee]

call me theo ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader about fluff, angst | 1.7k words | exes to lovers warnings mentions of time skip, use of y/n, and a dumb theo

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

That marked the end of your two-year relationship with Theodore. As he said his final word, you turned away, walking down the winding steps of the Astronomy Tower, holding back the emotions until you returned to your dormitory.

The night blurred into a haze of tears, finding comfort in Pansy’s shoulder as both of you nestled on the dorm floor. Hours passed in a cocoon of sadness before Blaise, Mattheo, Lorenzo, and even Draco appeared with snacks and muggle movies, trying to lift your spirits.

Wrapped up in your distress, you didn't think to ask how they found out about your breakup. Unbeknownst to you, amidst his own pain, Theodore asked his friends to comfort you instead of him.

Three weeks had gone by since the breakup. As promised, you and Theodore went back to being friends, just like before, merely two friends within the same tight-knit circle. But beneath the surface of friendliness, your friends noticed the underlying tension between you and Theodore, silently wishing for a reunion.

It was a random morning in the Great Hall when you announced to your friends that you would be occupied before dinner to take on the extra credit assignment for Herbology. Your friends looked at you strangely, the assignment was unnecessary for someone with such high marks, but inside you wanted a distraction from everything. 

Back in the common room, the attention shifted to Theodore, the elephant in the room finally about to be addressed. 

“So, what led to the breakup?” Blaise relaxed in his chair while Theodore sighed, looking at the ceiling. 

“She didn’t say why, but she mentioned that you initiated the breakup,” Draco said casually, trying to hide his interest in the situation.

“I told her she deserved better.”

Silence.

Suddenly, Lorenzo burst into laughter.

“Salazar, Enzo,” Pansy stood, disregarding Lorenzo's reaction. “So, let me get this straight,” she pointed her finger at Theodore, “You're saying the reason the group has been down is because you decided she deserved someone better?”

Mattheo set aside his cigarette, “Didn’t expect you to be so naive, mate.”

Blaise nodded, “Thinking that's an explanation. Y/n adores you, where will you find a girl better than her?”

Theodore’s face paled, “She’ll find someone better and eventually leave me. I couldn’t handle that.”

Draco stayed composed, “So you ended it first. Well done, Theo.”

Theodore buried his face in his hands, letting out an exasperated groan. “You all know she has a promising future after graduation. Why should she stay with me and be held back?”

“Did you talk to her about this, or did your insecurities make the call?” Lorenzo’s words made Theodore freeze, lost in thought.

Pansy packed up, checking the time. “Dinner’s soon. Let’s go.”

The boys followed Pansy, leaving Theodore alone, contemplating if his decision was right for your relationship.

"I got the job!"

Strolling around Hogsmeade with Blaise and Pansy, you stumbled upon a new place—a wizarding coffee shop. Your liking for muggle coffeehouses sparked your curiosity, pushing you to ask about potential employment.

Excitement bubbled as you shared the news with your friends in the Great Hall.

“We’ve got a place to visit now.” Lorenzo grinned, aware it might bring some joy after a while.

Pansy nudged Draco, "Let’s study there. OWLS are coming up and some muggle coffee might help."

Draco glanced at Theodore, who sat in silence, unsure of what to say. “That sounds like a plan. I could use some muggle coffee.”

They all knew Draco was convincing Theodore to join.

"When do you start?" Mattheo asked between sips of hot chocolate.

You remembered your upcoming schedule, “Next week, Wednesdays and Saturdays? Once I’m trained, next Saturday, I’ll treat you all to some amazing muggle coffee."

The group agreed, planning to meet at your workplace next Saturday.

“Five cups of regular iced coffee, please.” You operated the muggle machine, engrossed in fulfilling the order.

“Oh, hey, Theodore. Are the others here?” You looked around, causing Theodore’s shoulders to slump slightly.

“They're at the big corner table. Enzo insisted the natural sunlight would help with studying…”

A soft chuckle escaped, “You can go back, I’ll bring the drinks over when ready.” Theodore nodded, returning to the café’s corner.

Blaise grabbed the first cup but stopped when Pansy teased him. “Don’t hog! Share!”

“How does it taste?” you asked, turning to your friends.

“Y/n, muggle coffee is amazing.” Mattheo praised, soon followed by Blaise signaling he finished his drink.

“I should tell my father about this place,” Draco chimed in, and before you knew it, all the cups were empty.

“I should get back to work, see you at dinner.”

“What time do you finish?” Theodore's sudden interest surprised everyone.

“Y/n?”

"I'm done around six," You said while feeling a bit overwhelmed inside.

Theodore nodded, indicating your return to work.

Numerous customers kept you busy. Though you didn’t need money, the experience was enriching.

While your friends left at five, Theodore stayed. He moved to a quiet spot facing the counter where you worked.

Ignoring his shift, you focused on the new customers who walked in.

“Y/n, it's six, you can leave,” your boss said, offering a pastry.

“Thanks,” grabbing your coat, you started to leave the kitchen.

“Are you done?” Theodore was poised by the counter, waiting for your response.

“Theodore, did you wait?”

Signaling to walk together, he said, “I had a few assignments that I wanted to finish early so I stayed longer.” His nervous fidgeting gave away his lie, his habit you remembered from your past relationship. 

You hummed, touched by his waiting. 

“I might visit often. I didn't mention earlier, but the coffee’s great.”

Walking back to Hogwarts, feelings for Theodore surfaced since the breakup.

How could you move on when he acted this way?

For two months, Theodore kept his promise, visiting the café every Wednesday and Saturday, bringing schoolwork, and leaving with you.

You felt the emotions returning but you were scared to get hurt. After all, he initiated the breakup, right?

Your friends noticed Theodore’s absence on your workdays, understanding where Theodore was without verbal explanation. 

“One large iced coffee, please.” You prepared a cup, “And your name?”

“Theo.”

“Oh,” You looked up at Theodore. “One large iced coffee for Theodore.” You repeated his order and placed the cup down. 

“Why don’t you call me Theo anymore?” His disappointment was evident.

Meeting his gaze, you explained, “Because we’re just friends.”

Theodore observed the cup, then you.

“You know what, I think I forgot something at my dorm. I’m going to go.” His tone was sharper than he meant, leaving the café abruptly.

“Now you're the clueless one. Salazar, why do I have two of them?” Lorenzo dramatized, earning an eye roll from you.

Theodore disappeared after the café meeting. Unaware of his whereabouts, your friends gathered in the common room, waiting for his return.

“I mean, Y/n, Enzo's right,” Pansy said, sipping the muggle coffee you brewed for the group.

“He ended things months ago. I don’t see why you're all on his side.” Frowning, you didn’t grasp their empathy toward Theodore.

“Y/n, listen,” Blaise interrupted, “Regardless of who initiated the breakup, Theodore has come to your café twice a week for months, just to spend time with you.”

Draco echoed Blaise’s sentiments. “OWLS were done a month ago, yet he still visits. Give Theo credit for trying.”

You sighed, “I care for him, but I don’t want to be hurt again. He should just tell me. His actions are misleading if he doesn’t want to reconcile.”

Lost in thought, the warmth of the common room enveloped you, the crackling fire providing a soothing ambiance.

As evening approached, your thoughts circled Theodore’s sudden exit from the café, leaving you unsettled, your mind in disarray.

Unnoticed, the common room door creaked open. Theodore entered, visibly anxious. His eyes met yours, a blend of hesitation and resolve painting his expression.

The room fell silent as Theodore approached you, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Without a word, you got up and led him out of the common room.

The two of you reached the Blake Lake, facing each other, as the tension filled the air. Theodore struggled with his thoughts, torn between holding back and speaking up.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he started, a hint of regret in his tone. “I didn’t mean to leave abruptly. I've been struggling, Y/n.”

“Struggling? With what, Theodore?”

Gathering his thoughts, he spoke earnestly. “With everything between us. The breakup wasn't about not caring about you. I was scared.”

“Scared?” Your voice softened, understanding blooming within.

Theodore nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. ���I was scared that you would realize I was holding you back and leave me. So I thought if I let you go, you would be better off.”

Your heart ached, his honesty striking a chord with your own doubts. “But, Theodore, you never gave me a chance to choose. You made that decision for me.”

“I know, and I regret it every day.” Remorse filled his words, and his vulnerability was evident. “I visited the café because I wanted to be near you. But I understand if it’s been confusing for you.”

Silence hung, emotions swirling like a storm.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered, emotions stirring within.

He met your gaze, “I don't want to lose you again, Y/n. I want us to start over, I'll do everything to make things right.”

“Let's take it slow, Theodore. Start over and let's see where it takes us.”

A soft smile appeared on his face, relief in his eyes. “I promise, I'll do everything.”

"I've missed this," Theodore confessed softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions.

You gently squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Me too. I think we both needed this time to figure things out."

Theodore stopped walking, turning to face you with resolve. "I want us to try again, to be together, properly this time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through you at his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity that reassured you more than any words could. "I want that too, Theodore. Let's give us another chance."

With that shared agreement, a sense of relief and joy washed over both of you. Walking hand in hand, Theodore smiled for the first time in months.

“Now, will you call me Theo?”

[writingwithcolor]

Not all Second-Language Speakers are Made Equal.

@waltzshouldbewriting asked:

Hello! I’m writing a story that features a character who’s first language is not English. He’s East African, specifically from Nairobi, Kenya, and is pretty fluent in English but it’s not his primary language, and he grew up speaking Swahili first. I’m struggling to figure out if it’s appropriate or in character to show him forgetting English words or grammar. From what I’ve researched, English is commonly spoken in Nairobi, but it wouldn’t be what was most spoken in his home. For context, this is an action/superhero type story, so he (and other characters) are often getting tired, stressed, and emotional. He also speaks more than two languages, so it makes sense to me that it would be easier to get confused, especially in a language that wasn’t his first. But I’m worried about ending up into stereotypes or tropes. For additional context: I’m monolingual, I’ve tried to learn a second language and it’s hard. A lot of how I’m approaching this comes from my own challenges correctly speaking my own, first and only language.

Diversity in Second-Language English

You seem to have an underlying assumption that second language acquisition happens the same for everyone. 

The way your character speaks English depends on so many unknown factors: 

Where does your story take place? You mention other characters; are they also Kenyan, or are they all from different countries?

Assuming the setting is not Kenya, is English the dominant language of your setting? 

How long has your character lived in Kenya vs. where he is now? 

What are his parents’ occupations? 

What level of schooling did he reach in Nairobi before emigrating? 

What type of school(s) did he go to, public or private? Private is more likely than you think. 

Did his schooling follow the national curriculum structure or a British one? Depends on school type and time period. 

Does he have familiarity with Kenyan English, or only the British English taught in school? 

Is this a contemporary setting with internet and social media?

I bring up this list not with the expectation that you should have had all of this in your ask, but to show you that second language acquisition of English, postcolonial global English acquisition in particular, is complex. 

My wording is also intentional: the way your character speaks English. To me, exploring how his background affects what his English specifically looks like is far more culturally interesting to me than deciding whether it makes him Good or Bad at the language. 

L2 Acquisition and Fluency

But let’s talk about fluency anyway: how expressive the individual is in this language, and adherence to fundamental structural rules of the language.

Fun fact: Japanese is my first language. The language I’m more fluent in today? English. Don’t assume that an ESL individual will be less fluent in English compared to their L1 counterparts on the basis that 1) it’s their second language, or 2) they don’t speak English at home. 

There’s even a word for this—circumstantial bilingualism, where a second language is acquired by necessity due to an individual’s environment. The mechanisms of learning and outcomes are completely different. 

You said you tried learning a second language and it was hard. You cannot compare circumstantial bilingualism to a monolingual speaker’s attempts to electively learn a second language. 

Motivations?

I understand that your motivation for giving this character difficulties with English is your own personal experience. However, there are completely different social factors at play.

The judgments made towards a native speaker forgetting words or using grammar differently are rooted in ableism and classism (that the speaker must be poor, uneducated, or unintelligent). That alone is a hefty subject to cover. And I trust you to be able to cover that!

But on top of that, for a second language speaker, it’s racism and xenophobia, which often lend themselves to their own ableist or classist assumptions (that those of the speaker’s race/ethnicity must be collectively unintelligent, that they are uneducated or low class due to the occupations where they could find work, or conversely that they are snobby and isolationist and can't be bothered to learn a new language). Intersections, intersections.

If you want to explore your experiences in your writing, give a monolingual English speaker in your cast a learning disability or some other difficulty learning language, whatever you most relate with. And sure, multilingual folks can occasionally forget words like anyone else does, or think of a word in one language and take a second to come up with it in the other language. But do not assume that multilinguals, immigrants, or multiethnic individuals inherently struggle with English or with multiple languages just because you do.

~ Rina

[radiance1]

Just remembered about the Vortex's lil guy au and decided to write a lil about it.

***

When the Justice League arrived to stop a newly risen villain's scheme, which involved taking holding an entire city hostage with the use of a machine that could control the weather, which also involved expanded after successfully taking over the city.

When they achieved victory, they did not expect a child to be powering the machine.

Shazam, surprisingly, was the first one to react. "Danny!?" He said as he flew over to the boy, gently picking him from the confines of the machine (after they it had been deactivated) and into his arms. "Danny...?" He said a moment later, unsure of himself as his voice wavered a bit.

He shook the boy a bit, not too hard though, so as not to do any accidental harm. Blearily, the boy blinked opened his eyes, staring up at Shazam's worried face. "Shazam?" He murmured, voice rough and scratchy, as if it wasn't used often.

Either this boy-Danny-didn't speak much beforehand, or he was trapped in that machine so long that his voice became like this from a long period of disuse.

Shazam seemed to have thought so as well, and by his expression, it seemed to be more of the later as he floated down beside the rest of the League.

Danny blinked slowly before looking around the area, eyes glancing over every member present, then his surroundings and then finally back to Shazam and, with a curious tilt of his head he simply asked. "Did I get possessed again?"

A wave of concern washed over the group at the way the boy so casually asked such a question. As if it happened often enough that he grew used to it and, if the 'again' was any indication, it might just be the case.

"No." Shazam shook his head, readjusting his hold on the boy as he started to try and wiggle himself out of his arms. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." Said Danny, not even taking a moment to consider the question. As if he didn't just come out of a machine that feed upon his powers for who knew how long. Shazam's eyes narrowed in a glare that could almost give the Bat's a run for his money.

"Danny." The Champion of Magic chided, and the boy's eyes glazed over for a moment as Shazam simply readjusted his hold again. A moment later the boy blinked, a small purse to his lips and the vaguest amounts of concern slipping onto his face. "Oh," The boy said, no longer trying to wiggle himself from Shazam's hold. "My magic is acting weird, that's not good."

"Well yea since you, you know, had your powers drained and all?" Green Lantern said, the end of his question dipping into a question as the boy turned his head in his direction with too empty eyes that, for some reason, unsettled him.

"Who're you?" He asked with passing interest.

Whatever unsettlement Green Latern felt, it was immediately replaced with the vaguest amount of offence as the boy's words somehow wounded his ego more than such a simple question should have once it registered.

Who then immediately proceeded to ignore him.

The boy then blinked again, turning to Batman and giving the man a small wave. "Hello again, Batman." The Dark Knight simply grunted in his direction and nodded. Then pointed to each and every member present and slowly called out their names.

"Wonder Woman, Superman, Martian Manhunter, " Both of the aliens names were whispered with an underlying awe. "The Flash and Aquaman." His finger than landed on Green Lantern, and the boy furrowed his brows. "So who're you?"

"How do you know spooky but not me?!" Green Lantern ignored the Bat's glare in his direction at the use of the nickname, wounded pride and genuine bafflement allowing him to do such a thing.

"We met before." Danny state simply, as if that was the answer to all questions. "You?" He asked again.

This could not get worse. Green Lantern thought.

It could get worse. Green Lantern realized a few moments later after trying-and failing-to get the boy to recognize him as the members present were snickering at his plight.

Even Wonder Woman was trying to hold down a smile.

His eyes accidentally wandered in Batman's direction to see his reaction and he let out a quiet sigh of relief to see the man unmoved with only the slightest amount of disappointment that he didn't crack. Though it was wildly overshadowed by his ego being salvaged-

Batman's lips quirked up into a smirk before falling so fast that he had trouble believing if it was even there in the first place.

Green Lantern's jaw dropped as he stared at the Bat incredulously, who simply stared back. Unmoved, like a stone. As if he didn't just smile at him.

[coco-loco-nut]

loml part 2

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: it’s time for you to finally have some happiness, even if you’ve sworn off drivers

part one masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

A year after the break up, you are still living in George’s Monaco apartment. You keep to yourself, sticking to a simple routine and avoiding Formula One when you can. You could’ve gotten your own apartment with the divorce settlement and your job salary, but George insisted that you take care of the apartment for him.

George and Carmen were with you every step of the way, helping you pick up the pieces and bringing you back to as close to normal as you can.

“I’m done with drivers, I will never date one ever again,” you tell George one afternoon. George was almost offended but you added on the second half.

You go out for a run like you do every morning before work, and on your way home you stop in a bakery you’ve been eyeing. After placing your coffee and pasty order, you accidentally bump into someone.

“I am so sorry, I- Charles. Hi,” you look at the equally stunned man.

“Hi, how are you doing,” Charles says gently, sounding concerned. That isn’t what you expected out of your ex’s friend.

“Better, how’s, um, how is he?” you ask a little bitterly, internally cringing at the clear discomfort on Charles’s face. His name is called alongside yours, so he picks it up and sets it on a table, silently inviting you to join him, and you do.

“I don’t know. After the whole Kelly thing, I argued with him and we haven’t really talked since,” Charles admits, you look stunned.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you can’t really hide your bitter expression as the thought of Kelly runs through your mind. Not even a month after you separated, Max was off playing happy family with his new girlfriend. Your divorce wasn’t even legalized yet.

“I’m not. He lost someone incredible just because he wasn’t willing to put in the work for a good and healthy relationship,” Charles looks you in the eyes. You finish your pastry and process his words and his underlying meaning.

“Charles, everything is still so fresh, I don’t know,” you look out at the streets. You couldn’t deny he was attractive, but you didn’t want to reinvolve yourself with Formula One.

“One date, we can take it as slow as you want to. I know it must be hard, but you deserve to be happy,” Charles reaches out and touches your hand gently.

“I have to get to work. You should have my number, Charles,” you softly smile, leaving the cafe. Charles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Naturally, he asked George for permission first. He knew George was acting as your overprotective brother, and George knew you better than anyone at the moment. Despite you swearing off drivers, George felt that Charles might be what you need.

The first date goes well, and so does the second, and the third. Charles prioritized privacy, and you were grateful. He shows up to your door for the fourth with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, ones that Max always forgot to get. He always gave you chrysanthemums, fitting that he would choose a funeral flower seeing as how he killed the relationship.

“Cheri, are you okay?” Charles asks, seeing you tear up a little.

“Max never did this, and when he did they were always the wrong flowers,” you shake you head slightly, fending off the anger and sadness.

“Well, if he wanted to treat your right, he would. I want to treat you right,” Charles presses a kiss to your head. You invite him in while you find a vase to put the flowers in.

“I want that,” you tell him, his hands find yours.

“Be my girlfriend?” Charles asks, you nod happily.

“There is this restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try, down the street. Maybe I can take my boyfriend there,” you smile, heart racing.

“Lead the way, mon cœur,” Charles tells you. You lock the apartment behind you and take his hand as you lead him down the street to a restaurant that opened a couple months ago. The two of you are so caught up in each other, you don’t notice the table across the restaurant.

Max watches you walk into the restaurant, hand in hand with Charles - the guy who used to be one of his closest friends. You look stunning, and happier than you were the last few months before the separation. Of course Max saw you for divorce meetings, but this is different.

“Max is here,” you quietly tell Charles.

“Don’t worry about him, he won’t cause a scene,” Charles reassures you, knowing his old friend. You are grateful for the man sitting across from you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, causing Charles’s hear to soar. can’t believe he is finally happy.

Charles is by your side during the rough days, especially the day that should’ve been your wedding anniversary with Max. You couldn’t help but to be upset, and healing takes time. Charles didn’t push you to do anything, he just kept you company and followed your lead.

When you were together for six months, you felt comfortable enough to reintroduce yourself to Charles’s friends and family. It helps that the two of you adopted a dog.

“These are my sons, Ollie and Oscar,” Charles tells you as you stand in the kitchen, watching over the dinner you had been working on. He would’ve invited Liam, but that would be awkward for everyone.

“It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Y/n. I suspect you know Leo from social media. Would either of you like wine, or anything from the fridge? Please, help yourself,” you stop yourself from fussing. Charles recognizes it as your hormones kicking in, making you fuss over them.

“Thank you, need any help?” Ollie asks as Oscar plays with Leo.

“Thank you, but you are a guest. I couldn’t let you. Now, I think Charles has a really expensive bottle that will pair well with this meal, let me grab it and pour a couple glasses,” you wink.

“Only the best for you and the kids, Cheri,” Charles yells from the dining room where he is setting the table. Ollie takes the glass you poured for him, he wouldn’t mind you being his grid mom.

“Charles, come help me bring food in while the boys sit down,” you tell him, giving Oscar and Ollie a little glare when the move to help you.

“Of course, mon cœur,” Charles smiles, carrying the heavier plates in while you grab the wine bottle and the two empty glasses for you and Charles.

The two boys try to make sure they don’t come off as interrogating you, but you don’t mind. They are avoiding the elephant in the room, and both you and Charles know it.

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” you say gently, knowing it’s eating Oscar alive. He’s like you and George if you two had an idgaf attitude.

“Is it true that you and Max, um,” Oscar pauses looking for the words.

“Yeah, he’s my ex-husband. He did me a favor though, without him I wouldn’t be with Charlie,” you look adoringly at your boyfriend.

“Ask George and Carmen, they will give you the best version of the story,” Charles laughs and so do you.

“This is really good, I might need you to cook after races for me,” Ollie changes to topic, groaning a little at how full he is.

“She’s our mom, of course it’s good,” Oscar replies, you can’t fight the grin on your face.

“Of course I will. I can send some frozen meals for you to heat up along to the with Charles,” you tell them.

“Or you could come to the races and keep me company,” Ollie says, looking at you hopefully. You are one hundred percent adopting him. Charles looks at you a little panicked, you never really talked about being in the paddock as his girlfriend. Of course, he has publicly talked about how he has a girlfriend who he adores, but no one knows it’s you, except for a few people.

Max never told anyone about your relationship, despite him seeing your date and reporters asking him about you. It would be an asshole thing to do after he moved on so quick, and you deserved better than what he had done to you already.

“I’d love to, but don’t regret it when you are being mothered,” you point your fork at them.

“Wait, why only Ferrari,” Oscar pouts.

“I can visit you too, I’ll even bring cookies,” you tell Oscar. He pumps his fist in celebration.

Charles is happy to hear you are okay going to races again. You have to be a little stealthy about it at the start. You go the first couple times as George’s guest, and slowly increase how long you are with Charles each time.

Things change when you miss your period. You and Charles have always been very careful, but there have been a couple time that you forgot a condom.

“What does it say, mon cœur?” Charles sits beside you in bed, rubbing soft circles on your shoulder. You take a shakey breath and turn the stick over, ready to be shown another negative.

“Positive, I’m pregnant. I thought I couldn’t have kids,” you feel Charles brush tears from your cheeks.

“We will be the best parents, I’m so happy,”he reassures you, and you can see how happy he is. From then on you go as Charles’s partner, Ollie is happy to have you with him in the garage, and even accompanies you to visit Oscar. Ollie claimed it was to protect you and the baby against Max, but that doesn’t work when Max is talking to Lando at the same time you visit Oscar.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Max asks a little hesitatily.

“I’m really well, how are you?” you ask, pushing down the bitter parts of you. You truly are very happy now.

“I’m okay. Do you think we could talk at some point this weekend? I think it’s been long enough and you deserve closure for yourself,” Max scratches the back of his head.

“Message me on Instagram. We can find a time,” you agree, needing to get a couple things off your chest. That time is the next morning in an open room in Red Bull hospitality.

“You wanted to talk,” you say as you sit down across from Max. Charles was apprehensive when you told him of your plan, but he trusted you and was supportive of your choice.

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you at the end, it was unfair to you,” Max tells you, clearly pushing through his pride. “So, I’m sorry. I can’t say it’s easy seeing you happy with someone who isn’t me. Are you happy?” Max asks, needing to know.

“Of course I am. It was really hard to move on. Charlie makes me extremely happy, and he’s given me the greatest gift I could ask for,” you smile, subconsciously putting a hand on your stomach. Max feels his stomach swirl with jealousy. Charles is living the life he should be living, Charles is doing everything he should be doing for you, but he fucked it all up.

“I, uh, wow. Congratulations, I know how much you wanted a kid. I’m happy for you, schatje,” Max says, pushing down his jealousy. It’s his fault he lost you, now he has to live with the consequences and be mature about it. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten with Kelly so soon he would be with you, but it’s too late now.

Max did try. He constantly asked George where you were, or to convince you to talk to him. George was protective though, he saw how hurt you were and knew you needed to heal on your own time. So he did what any overprotective best friend would do, talk reasonably and show Max why he needed to stay away.

“Thanks, Maxie, that means a lot,” Maxie, a dagger through Max’s heart. “I can’t be friends with you right now, but maybe someday. I like this version of you, maybe Kelly was the right one for you after all,” you can see the pain in Max’s somber eyes, the same one you see from the end of your relationship, and the same one that haunts you.

“I really am sorry,” Max’s voice cracks. “You’re the love and loss of my life,” tears well in his eyes as he looks at you.

“You’re the loss of mine as well,” you stand up and move towards him, pulling him into a hug. “You are going to be okay, Max. We weren’t right for each other, but now you can move on,” you say softly. In your heart you can feel the closure you’ve needed. Max felt it too, and when the day came, he would be ready to be a good friend.

Until that day, he is publicly supportive of your family with Charles. Max repairs his relationship with Charles first, then he slowly repairs it with you. When Julianna Herveline Leclerc graced the world, he was one of the first people to send a gift and well wishes. And when you and Charles finally make it to the alter, Max is standing beside Charles, happy to support the two of you.

[janaispunk]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 3

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

Standing up on the podium, not being able to do anything as you watched Oscar run off was torture. You had to stay there while your national anthem played that should have been amazing considering it was you, Lewis and Lando all up there together.

And of course, there were no breaks for you afterwards. Everyone wanted you, from SkySports, to F1, to Netflix. Everyone was throwing questions at you and asking how different your achievements feel now knowing that your the first woman to have completed many of them.

You were fine answering them, because like they said. All of your previous achievements were now bigger than they were as Ghost. People could tell that you weren't fully with them, you were a little spacey and sometimes struggled with hearing and answering the questions.

Most of them put it down to the post race fuzz of the win and revealing who you were, but upon getting to the Sky Sports Team who consisted of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Natalie Pinkham and Danica Patrick questions turned sour.

"So Y/N aside from racing we caught light of Oscar Piastri's quick depart after the reveal, any insight on this?" Danica asks, making you look down.

"I don't think these questions are necessary" Jenson says just as the Red Bull PR manager was about to ask for racing related questions only.

"Yes please stick to racing questions only" the Red Bull PR backs up, nodding before taking a step back. You look back up, straight to Nico who had a soft look on his face.

"I'm just interested, you raced for Alpine last year when he was a reserve driver... for Alpine and you've been promoted to Red Bull this year while Piastri's made the move to Mclaren. Can't help but wonder if its underlying sexism that's made him this mad, you all cant deny he was blunt and rude in his interview with us earlier" Danica pushes and you head snaps up. You feel a hand on your shoulder as if to stop you from what your about to say but you go ahead anyway.

"I've hurt a dear friend. So how dare you stand there and try to victimize me, when he is the one that I've hurt. He knew me as Ghost's assistant and media manager... we were close and I've not been truthful to him for obvious reasons. So don't stand there and try to make him out to be a misogynistic twat when he isn't. I don't know what you experienced in NASCAR Danica but in F1 all I've experienced today is love and support. Just because your sport sucks doesn't mean mine does" you snap, and recoil shocked that you'd just said all of that. She looks at you also in shock, Jenson and Nico were trying to stop their laughter.

"Well, some strong opinions there from Y/N Y/L/N" Jenson says as he watches you turn away and walk off. You were done with interviews for the day. You just wanted to find Oscar and talk to him now.

"Lando! Lando" you shout as you see the curly haired boy ahead of you walking into the Mclaren motorhome.

"Hey, Y/N or should i say Ghost" he smiles before pulling you into a hug.

"I was not expecting that bombshell today, and I will admit I'm sorry for assuming you were some ugly guy... your very obviously not" he laughs.

"Where's Oscar" you ask, you didn't want to seem rude but of course he was your priority right now.

"Y/N, I don't think its a good idea to see him right now. I think maybe just wait for him to come to you. He's upset and" he starts but you look him dead in the eye.

"He upset me too, he just ran off... at my first race win" you say as selfish as it was... but he also ruined that experience for you.

"I know, but you did like lie to him for just under 2 years" Lando says softly not wanting to rattle your already unstable cage of self hatred.

"And what was i supposed to do Lando, tell him a secret that Red Bull had me sign an NDA over and break my contract and risk loosing my seat?" you ask, hoping he would start to understand.

"Look Y/N you really should go..." Lando pushes looking around the area you were currently in. He put a hand on your lower back as to guide you back out, but you planted yourself still.

"No, I'm not leaving till i talk to him" you grunt.

"Y/N I'm telling you this as your friend and your co-worker. You need to go" he says, you'd actually never seen his eyes this serious before and it had your head cocking to the side in confusion.

As your about to ask him why the hell he's being so twitchy, two people stumble out of the next room a little disheveled and both laughing. You eyes lock on them.

"O-Oscar?" you ask in shock, the girl looks up at him confused and his face turns red but also a sour expression comes onto his face.

Before any of them can say anything your turning away from them, everything feels slow motion, all the voices around you blur and your heartbeat comes erratic.

You couldn't understand why it hurt so much, the thought of him not even for a moment being happy for you up on a podium that he come here to be with some other girl ... or was it because in the time you'd spent with him you'd fallen for the racer.

You round the corner, stumbling behind the Mclaren motorhome so that you could just breath. You crouch down, your head leaning back against the side.

"Fucks sake" you say to yourself, once you'd calmed yourself from the initial shock you fully sat down on the metal edging outside the Mclaren motorhome.

"Y/N?" you hear a voice ask, your head peaks up and you spot Alex and Logan.

"Oh, hey guys. Great Race today!" you smile.

"Why are you just sat outside the Mclaren motorhome?" Logan asks raising an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, erm no reason. I just got lost on my way back to Red Bull" you smile standing up and walking to the long strip and turning left.

"Your still clearly lost, Red Bull's that way" Alex says pointing to the right hand side, that you weren't facing.

"Right, yeah i knew that" you smile, turning round and scuttering off the other way.

To say that the UK was the start of something spectacular was an understatement. You didn't go out and celebrate that night, you stayed in with your family.

The next race was Hungary where you proceeded to take the win away from Max in the last 3 laps, being on the fresher tires. They asked you to let Max take the win but you begged for them to let you fight it out. You shared the podium with Max and Lando, in Spa you came second, sharing the podium with Max and Charles and in The Netherlands you came 4th.

Throughout all of this Oscar hadn't reached out to you. You'd kept in contact with Lando, asking how he was and what had been going on. However Monza changed things.

An article came out about an interview Oscar had done about you and how you hadn't spoken to him since. He hadn't spoken very nicely about you when all you'd done was stick up for him. You guys got into a massive argument outside the garages that of course people caught on camera.

You had a really bad qualifying, the car just didn't have pace and your mind wasn't in the right place. So you were starting P14 on the grid, after a cry to Christian that you were so overwhelmed and him assuring you that it was today that really mattered.

You had turned off everything when you got in the car on the Sunday. No thoughts in your head just the racing. On the start you managed to get yourself to P12 overtaking Liam and Nico right of the bat.

"Excellent start Y/N lets keep pushing"

Martin Bundle - I have to say that Y/N is incredible with these races where she starts down in the back of the grid, and she gets those amazing starts where she slips in the middle of the two drivers ahead and is able to confidently get herself up too places

"Okay, and Alonso are ahead, you have DRS" your engineer tells you, and you are able to overtake Yuki who doesn't go as aggressively into the chicane as you do. You have a little spin but recover enough to pull up aside Alonso on the straight, going for the overtake.

"Amazing Y/N, that's P10 right now. Keep pushing"

Eventually you were left fighting Carlos, Max clipped a tire and was now down in 4th fighting with Charles.

"Y/N this has been a fantastic race, from P14 up to P2, Carlos is 1.8 second ahead. Lets get him and bring home a double podium. Max is fighting for P3 right now. 5 laps to go" he advises.

"Tell him to speed up, I'll give him DRS we can overtake Sainz together so its a 1.2" you advise looking seeing the Ferrari behind you. You slow down on the hairpin, breaking early, which Charles didn't expect where he was concentrating on defending from Max. You speed up, watching as he spins out a little leaving room for Max on the inside.

"Okay, Sainz has sped up there's now a 2.6 second gap"

"Copy that" you say, Max was using your slip stream, but didn't go for the overtake, you easily defended from Charles together while gaining on the other Ferrari.

"Okay last two laps, Sainz, 0.3 second gap"

"Yeah i can fucking tell I'm riding his rear end" you say, the minute you get onto the straight you and Max both go either side of Sainz, sandwiching him in as your about to go into turn 11. He breaks early falling back leaving you to take the optimal racing line and get ahead of Max.

"Is Max fighting this last lap?" you ask.

"He's been told is free to fight. Mode push and bring us another win" your race engineer advises, you breeze through the final lap, it was a close call but you came first.

"Y/N Y/L/N winner of the 2023 Italian Grand Prix" your race engineer says a big grin coming onto your face as you flip up the visor holding your fist up as you see all the Red Bull crew cheering for you on the fencing.

"Where did Oscar place?" you ask, you hadnt thought about him up until now. Even as you passed the orange 81 car, it was just another car then.

"Not a good race for Piastri, P12 behind Lawson"

"Okay. Thank you for the great drive today. Thank you Christian" you say before preparing yourself for the podium.

Would Oscar be there?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[luveline]

hiiii, I miss Eddie and Roan so much. Could you write something about them pleaseee? ❤️❤️❤️

eddie and roan try not to fall asleep while (almost stepmom) reader bakes a tray of brownies, 1.5k

Eddie can't sit on the couch, he lays down. He has ever since he can remember, and while he tried to be polite when he first moved in (unlike Roan, who made herself at home delightfully quickly), you're way past that now. 

"You look uncomfortable," you fret, tilting your head to the side as you look down on him in concern. "You want a pillow?" 

"I want you to lay down with me immediately," he says, making grabby hands at your stomach. 

You refuse him with a stunning, angelic, beatific smile, the kind that makes him think fuck I should marry her, before he remembers he's already going to. If there's one thing about Eddie Munson, it's that he wholeheartedly believes that you're the prettiest woman he's ever met. Maybe you started that way, maybe he loves you so much you've metamorphosed into an intoxicating creature of good looks, but whatever it is, he's obsessed with it. 

"Lie down with me," he demands. 

"I'm gonna make little brownies," you say, shaking your head, "but I know someone for the job." 

He's half expecting you to scoop Mr. Porterson out of his tank and hand him to Eddie in a cup, but you head upstairs to Roan's bedroom. He can hear your voice through the floor, and his daughter's answering gasp. She all but runs down the stairs, demarcated by you and Eddie shouting the same thing, "Don't run down the stairs, Ro!" 

She's huffing and puffing by the time she gets to the living room, rounding the couch to stand in front of Eddie. "Hello," she huffs. "You need a hug?" 

Eddie opens his arm and drags her in. He should say something cheesy and loving, like, don't I always? He's not a super serious guy, but it's been on his mind a little more often as the wedding approaches and Roan gets taller how lucky he is to have you both, and how things could be totally different. He never expected to be a dad and he honestly didn't want to be before he saw her little face.

Eddie remembers picking her up when she was still smaller than his arm, two inexperienced hands under her armpits raising her up because he realised he could. 

Her legs scrunched up toward her chest and he thought, oh, my god. And now she clambers on his chest and does her pill bug curl with her knees, reminding him so much of her baby scrunch and the way her head smelled. He drapes a gentle arm behind her and tries to pour every ounce of love he possesses into his touch as he pats her shoulder, a steady thump, thump, thump. 

"You smell nice," Roan accuses. 

"That's weird. Maybe check again." 

She sniffs him. "You smell yummy, like Y/N's shampoo." 

He may have ran out of body wash, and he may have used a dollop of your shampoo. He doesn't think it'll matter in the grand scheme of things and all you're sharing, but he puts his finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispers, "don't tell." 

"You said I'm not supposed to have secrets," Roan says. 

"You're not." Eddie draws a line down her back just to hear her giggle. "Except this one." 

"That's what you said about the last one." 

"This one and that one, then." Not like she managed to keep that one secret, either. What was he thinking, telling his five year old he wanted to propose? She lost her mind aloud. 

Then again, she spilled the beans and you immediately told Eddie he had to move in with you (he can't remember it perfectly now, but he's pretty sure you said, 'I think you better move in', which was just bossy enough to have him falling in love twice over). 

"I don't like secrets," Roan says.

Her voice strengthens as she gets older, and her pronunciation of things grows smoother. Occasionally she speaks and she sounds much older than she is. Currently, she talks with a funny cadence, emphasis on things that don't need it and, and an underlying sense of awe like she can't believe what she's saying. 

"Fine," Eddie says, pulling her closer still, "we won't keep this one secret. But if she shouts at me I'm going to have to sleep in your room tonight." 

"I'll sleep with Y/N." 

"No, because I'll need you to dry my tears." 

Roan nods into his chest, the faux silk of her sleeve shushing against his shirt as she brings a hand up to his hair. "Okie dokie," she says, twisting one of his curls around her fingers. "But don't cry." 

"I'll try not to, sweetheart." 

She smiles and relaxes fully into his arms. 

"Are you tired?" he asks. 

"Don't think so." 

"You've already got your jammies on. You don't want a bath tonight?" He's feeling affectionate for his life, adding, "Mommy has new bubble bath, it smells like chamomile. I'm sure she'd love to share with you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm-hmm." His eyes are getting heavy. Maybe he's tired. The thought of a bubble bath almost puts him to sleep. 

"Don't fall asleep," Roan whispers. 

"I'm not, Ro. Just resting my eyes. You don't have to stay and cuddle if you're busy." 

"I like you," she says. 

"I like you too." 

— 

Little brownies are the best thing ever. You make a very wet brownie batter and pour it thin in a big baking sheet. You barely cook them, and then when they're cooled and cut you freeze them, and when they defrost (at a time of your choosing) they're perfect for eating or putting into Roan's school lunchbox. You set the last tupperware of them into the freezer and wipe your cold hands on a dish towel, happy. 

It's a bit strange, but before you met your Munsons, you had no idea how peaceful it could feel to have done something for someone else. You weren't an overly selfish creature but there's this unnameable feeling that comes with doing this kind of 'chore'. Taking care of the people you love… 

Well, it feels good. Not as good as this is about to feel, you guess, turning off the kitchen light and locking the front door as you go. Eddie and Roan lay on the couch with the TV set to a loud volume. You'd assumed they'd both be awake, but it seems they've fallen asleep despite the odds. You're gonna languish in it with them just as soon as you can tetris your way into the pile.

Roan has crawled up the length of her dad's chest to press her cheek to his, and Eddie's wrapped his arms around her tightly, tucking her in with nowhere to turn. 

You can't fit into their cuddle pile without disturbing the peace, but you can't be expected to abstain, surely. 

You sink down onto the floor by Eddie's head, bringing your hand to his sleeping face. Careful, you stroke a twisted baby hair against his forehead, the dark kink of it like a thread through pale skin. 

Roan stirs, or wasn't as asleep as you thought. She yawns wide, lips smacking as she asks, "What are you doing?" 

You grin at her loud whisper. "Just looking. You okay?" 

"He's squeezing me." 

"Too much?" 

"No, I like it. I feel like a sardine." 

"Yeah?" You rest your upper body on the couch, her pyjama top satiny under your hand. "You like it? You're not claustrophobic?" 

She gives you a daunted look.

"It means squished, pretty much," you say.. 

"I like it," she reaffirms. Roan pulls her arm out of Eddie's grasp to touch yours. "Dad says I can have some bubble bath." 

"Of course you can, princess. You know you can have anything of mine." Except the top shelf stuff, but she can't reach that high. "I left you some brownies for ice cream." 

"You did?" 

"Yeah, I did." You meet her eyes, formidable baby browns that you never stood a chance against. Her cheek is warm as you lean in for a quick peck. "You're beautiful. I love you." 

Roan gasps happily. "You're beautiful-er!" 

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, smirking as he starts to wake from his nap. 

"Time d'you call this, Eds?" you ask fondly. 

He turns his face one way and the other, agonised. "Oh, but I was so cozy! My girl is so soft and she's pretty much my blanket, and she was being so nice to me!" He sighs, a picture of distress, his voice croaky with the edge of sleep. "Can you ever forgive me?" 

"Sure!" Roan says, laughing. 

"Just this once." 

He squints at you. "This is pretty much your fault anyways." 

"You'll forgive me. Please?" He leans up for a kiss. "S'what I thought," you say into his lips.

You nudge him back and squeeze onto the couch. He has to go on his side for you to for and Roan ends up half on top of you, a knee jabbed into your stomach. Still, it's fine for now. Your quiet desire to be cuddled with them is abated, a strong arm behind your back and a much smaller hand sneaking inside your shirt sleeve to warm the attached, similarly small fingers. 

[teaaleefs]

Second Best - K. Bakugou

word count: 1746

pairing: 3rdyear!Bakugou x nb!reader

cw and notes: might be ooc because i’ve literally never written this guy before Hurt/Comfort, Cussing it’s bakugou idk what you expected. Soft bakugou, Hopefully i did it right tho- comparing yourself to others, jealousy, envy, low self esteem, pet names (baby), unedited asf good luck reading it because i certainly didn't, good ending :)

synopsis: you can't stop comparing yourself to your boyfriend and one day it just gets to you

Always second best. That’s what you were.

Second best to Katsuki since… Well, always. Your boyfriend always strove to be number one, always strove for perfection in everything. He was number one in class, the most promising student in class 1-A despite his rough and brash personality. But even then, he was the best at everything. Even things you told yourself you were good at.

Cooking? He could make your mom’s recipe almost exactly the same way she did, always fine tuning the details. But you? You always changed something up, always forgot a step. Too much salt, too little garlic, not enough pepper, forgot the vegetables… and despite being with him for some time - for nearly 3 years now - during your time in UA, you grew almost resentful.

At first you felt guilty, because why would you ever compare yourself to him? Why should you be upset that he’s doing well for himself? But the thought that you were always falling behind, always miles behind and him miles ahead, it bubbled up jealousy. You never acknowledged it when you were around him. You always acted normal, acted the same. Had your usual spats and squabbles with him, had your small dates with him and exchanged vulnerable words. But the feeling kept gnawing at you. Especially during finals, always during finals or big exams. You both would work your asses off. Hell, he even helped you to study the majority of the time. 

Still, everytime you found that he was just better. Better at everything. Better with his quirk, better at studying, better at retaining information, better at testing, better at cooking your mother’s damn soup, better at planning dates, taking you out, getting gifts, better, better, better.

It left you upset late at night most times. Whenever you weren’t sleeping in his room your mind would whir with ways for you to improve - for you to catch up. And even when you were sleeping in his room, when he was already asleep you would still find yourself comparing and comparing and wishing you could just be better at one thing. Anything, just one thing.

Sometimes it made heat rise to your face when you would have these thoughts while looking over his sleeping form. His chest rose and fell with soft breaths while your eyes stung and burned and you tried to blink back your jealousy. Usually blinking them back and telling yourself to get over it did the trick. But one night it just didn’t. And you ended up wiping your eyes and turning away from him, settling into the pillow beneath your head and forcing yourself to fall asleep. 

But this night wasn’t like the others and no matter what you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Your eyes kept flooding full of tears just for you to keep wiping them away, just for you to keep quietly sniffling and hiccupping and for your mind to keep milling over your jealousy and underlying disappointment with yourself because it honestly wasn’t fair! You were trying just as hard as he was, but he was always more driven, always more something and tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

He heard you before he saw you. Back turned to him, quiet sniffles filling the otherwise silent room save for the sound of the fan. Scooting closer to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist. He knew better than to ask - he knew you weren’t the type to say it outright. 

“Oi, what’s wrong with you?” He asked anyway, his gruff voice having gone soft. It didn’t hold its usual snark or aggression, only a hint of the underlying concern he actually felt. When you didn’t answer, he sighed and held you tighter, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. 

You could feel light kisses brushing against your skin, murmured words of comfort that he normally wouldn’t utter. See, he was even better than you at comforting his loved ones. All you usually managed was an ‘it’ll be okay’ or a hug, feeling too awkward when it came to making others feel better. Your throat tightened as did your chest, the heel of your palms pressing against your eyes as you tried to will yourself to stop crying over nothing. To stop being a baby and a jealous little shit. There was no reason to cry from an outside standpoint. But here you were, silently balling your eyes out for no reason (that’s what you thought Katsuki might be thinking at least). 

“It’s not fair.” You managed to choke out, words mumbled and muffled between a sharp intake of air. 

His hands rubbed soothing circles against your skin, his hold on you never faltering, but his lips stopped their soft brushes against your shoulder. “What’s not fair?”

You fell silent again. Should you tell him? But that would be selfish, what if it caused him problems? No, realistically, he would hold back for no one. Not even you. but what if he decided that you were being dramatic? What if this lead to one of your usual tiffs over nothing? What if you really were just being a crybaby? What if, what if, what if he’s too good for you? 

One of his hands abandoned your waist in favor of caressing your hair, rough fingers running through the strands all the way down, down, down to your neck and then back up again to the top in a calming fluid motion. “Breathe, baby. I can feel you tensing up.” He murmured against your ear, his rough voice growing increasingly softer. 

You stiffened for a moment. You hadn’t even realized you were taking in shallow breaths, but now you were hyper aware of your breathing and how tight your chest felt. Nodding to show that you heard him, you drank in slow, deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before releasing them. 

You could hear him shifting behind you, both of his hands moving to cup your face. You could sense him hovering over you even as your hands stayed pressed to your eyes. You could feel the feather light kiss he pressed to your cheek and how quietly he asked you to move your hands. When you didn’t immediately comply, he gently encased his hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away himself.

Through bleary and wet eyes, you could make out the crease between his brows, his expression hardened into displeasure as he released your wrists. His displeasure wasn’t directed at you - never at you when you were like this.

He brushed the corner of your eyes free of tears with each thumb before pulling away. Settling back onto the bed and laying on his side, his warm hand brushed from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you towards his chest. You let out a breath before you finally let yourself cry without holding it back; without the sniffling and bit back and choked sobs.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked as he held you tight, chin resting atop your head.

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to tell him that you were crying because of him. It wouldn’t be fair and you had convinced yourself you were being childish. He let silence fall between you two, not wanting to push anymore when it was obvious that you weren’t going to say.

But that was fine. He was fine with just holding you tight and grazing his lips on your forehead. He held you for a while after that, murmuring sweet words into your ear, rubbing your back and hair and telling you that everything was okay, meanwhile you just couldn’t stop for the life of you comparing and wondering about how he’d react if you told him why you were crying.

Until eventually, you broke it down to him, blubbered and mumbled and choked words of explanation finally tumbling from your trembling lips. You told him about your jealousy, about the comparisons, how you felt he was miles ahead and you constantly fighting for a way to at least catch up. How he was just better, how you thought you were being silly and dramatic and that “there was no reason” for you to be crying like this - breaking down over this. How he felt out of your league, how he was just too good for you. But as soon as he heard you tell him all that he fell silent and that made your stomach drop. Was he silently agreeing with you? Did he also think you were being a crybaby? Childish? Dramatic–

He held you so tight you thought your bones might break. His head buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, he scolded you.

“Don’t fucking say shit like that.” He rasped, voice barely above a whisper, “There’s no way I’m out of your league. If I was, I wouldn't have dated you in the first place.” His words were honest and straightforward, blunt but needed. “Baby, you’re fine the way you are. Stop comparing yourself to me, it’s unfair to yourself.” He said before pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your eye, kissing away your plump tears. “We’re different people, of course things are gonna come differently to each of us.” He soothed as he pulled away to kiss the corner of your other eye. “There’s a lot of shit that you're better at than me, so give yourself some credit, baby.”

You managed a few soft noises of acknowledgement and muffled “okay’s”, taking in a few heaving breaths as you worked to calm down. He didn’t stop holding you, he didn’t stop muttering comforts to try and quiet your tears, didn’t stop telling you all the ways you had one upped him, even in the smallest of ways. He tried to show you that you had your own accomplishments, that even he couldn’t do it all - and that was the thing absolutely hated to admit, but he did it for you.

He didn’t stop holding you, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns against your arm, not even as your breathing regulated and you sniffed here and there. Not even when you fell asleep against his chest, your fingers clutching onto his shirt in an attempt to keep him there. Not that he was moving anytime soon. He didn’t even let you go when he fell asleep too, his arms falling slack around you, but still there. Still resting against your waist, his legs tangled with yours and his face buried against your shoulder.

[shentheauthor]

Hello! I’ve seen the harbingers reacting to the reader liking them... But what if we turn the tables around and it’s them realizing the have a huge crush on the reader!!! Will they confess? (I hope they do, well... mainly I hope Pulcinella does but anyways) Will they stay quiet??

Ooo this should be fun

Harbingers realizing they have a crush on the reader

Also I finally figured out how to add the read more thing!!!!

Pierro

Well first of all, it’s been a LONG time since he’s felt this way

He almost doesn’t recognize the feeling

When he realizes what’s up, he would immediately be flustered and confused

Why? How? HOW DID YOU DO THIS???

Unfortunately he’s probably too dedicated to his cause to think of anything else

He wouldn’t want to put you through that

So he’ll keep quiet

He won’t tell you, and just sit and pine sadly

I’m sorry, he caught feelings at the worst possible time in his life

Capitano

He is also confused

He definitely doesn’t feel this way often

He is also very dedicated to his cause, but he at least has more room for stuff like love, I think

He won’t be too shy about it, but he seems like a relatively quiet guy in the first place

He will confess

Probably in private. No grand gestures, just a simple “I have feelings for you”

He’ll also say that you have every right to turn him down

Offers to remain friends as well

Literally one of the most normal people in this whole cursed group

We’re starting off calm before we get into The Horrors

Dottore

The Horrors™️

He treats it like a science experiment

I’m being srs

Hypothesis: you like him back

Research? Hanging around you more often

Hovers over you like a vulture

You turn the corner and there he is like :)

If one of him likes you, all of him does

The segments will be SO annoying, I’m so sorry

He won’t confess outright, but honestly his behavior is more than enough to tell you what’s going on

He is highkey scary, but we love him for it

Columbina

She isn’t very flustered when she realizes tbh

Of course she likes you! How could she not?

She’ll ask you to her private chambers and just.. hang out with you

Her way of flirting is singing to you and doing your hair

If you don’t have hair? Scalp massages

Very touchy feely and kind of obvious with her affection

There is an underlying darkness to everything she does, but Yk if you like her back, you’re probably into that

She’ll confess in private, during the night

It’s shockingly romantic, with candles and flowers waiting for you

She does fully expect you to say yes, but she honestly wouldn’t ask if she didn’t already know you would

She’s like 5 steps ahead of you

Arlecchino

Mmmmmmmaaaaannnn

We already know she’s unhinged, Yk?

When she’s in love, her first reaction is “ew”

She doesn’t have time for that shit

But Yk, she’s intrigued by you, so she abandons that thought pretty quickly

She won’t flirt or confess, keeping you at arm’s length

But she does have a clear favorite

She’s nicer to you. She gives you less difficult tasks

She doesn’t want your pretty face getting hurt

You’ll only find out she has a fat crush on you if you do get hurt

She is.. protective…

Good luck getting blood out of your clothes when she’s done with your attackers

At least she would ask if you’re ok? Yeaahhh

Pulcinella

This one’s for you bestie (me when I go in rank order and he’s not at the top)

He’ll get flustered when he realizes

He’s kinda old, so it’s been a while, but hey it’s never too late for love!

He’ll give you the old fashioned courtship rizz

Flowers, gifts, walks under the stars

He will def accept a rejection, but come on, look at him

You can’t reject him

He’s a quiet romantic, and he doesn’t have a stick up his ass

So he’s better at this than the others

You cannot tell me he doesn’t have a soft side, you CANNOT.

Scaramouche

MAN

This man is so emotionally repressed, you know he would HATE having a crush

He sees it as a waste of time

A disgustingly human emotion

He’ll push you away, I’m sorry

He doesn’t have time for this, he doesn’t want to deal with it

He would fire you if he could, but for the sake of this post, he can’t for whatever reason

Maybe you aren’t a fatuus yk?

But yeah he’d only confess if you make it clear that you’re hurt by him avoiding you

And if you’re persistent (HELLA persistent)

He’ll eventually blurt out “it’s because I LIKE you, you idiot”

Yes, he is that trope

Hopefully he gets over himself sooner rather than later lmao

Sandrone

Run for your life

I’m being srs, she is uh…

She will confess, but in a creepy way

“I want you to become one of my dolls” (affectionate)

Try your damn hardest to convince her you’re more interesting as a living human

I love her, but hooooweeee

Scary ass woman

This one is shorter bc it’s… pretty clear what she’s like in canon 🤡

Signora

She hasn’t been in love since Rostam

Genuinely

She’s confused at first, then honestly a little sad and angry

Why now? Why centuries after her heart was broken?

But yk, it is what it is

She will most likely never confess

Just… keeps you at a distance, much like Pierro

She’ll try her hardest to get over it too, but you know she isn’t exactly good at getting over things like this

I mean that with love in my heart

If she ever does confess, it will likely be if she thinks she’ll never see you again

This woman is so tragic… I love her

Pantalone

THIS MAN.

He will become your sugar daddy

Like, literally, he will shower you with gifts

He could not be more obvious about it

Normally he guards his heart, but honestly if you’re in private and he’s sure nobody is listening, he will be so open

Of course those moments are rare

But he’ll still give you gifts in public, just… less obvious

Giving you money to buy food bc “you can’t work on an empty stomach”

Gives you clothes for missions/whatever and says you can keep it bc he doesn’t want it

He’s used to people using him, but it’s clear you don’t want to, so he feels safe in giving stuff to you

Confesses in private

It has to be SO private, no guards or anything, bc he doesn’t trust anyone not to tell

At least he’ll be a little romantic. Gives you your favorite foods and flowers, plus new clothes or hell, paying your rent

His love language is gift giving, change my mind

Tartaglia

Oh he is so annoying about it

Literally aggressive flirting

Literally

He will try to spar with you, to see if you’re strong enough to be his equal

If you’re not, that’s fine, but if you are, oh man he gets ten times worse

He’ll also be a theater kid about it

Bouquets, opening doors for you, bowing and throwing you a “rakish grin” (his words)

He’s kind of a dork

A murderous dork, but Yk

He’ll either confess during combat, or he’ll take you out on the town and does it in public

Well, if he isn’t sure you’ll say yes, he’ll do it in private

Also if you don’t like crowds

But if you don’t mind public spaces, he will be so dramatic about it

“Will you conquer the world with me?”

It’s very sweet, even if he means it completely literally

Just. A nerd (affectionate)

[another-goblin]

How Aventurine would process their relationship. Just some fun options to explore. I do ship them, but it will work with them being just friends. (I wrote "just friends" and realized that it would probably be the first time for both of them to have an actual friend, so there is no "just" here.)

1. I can see him possessing enough emotional intelligence to realize what's going on and allow himself to accept Ratio's care and reciprocate his feelings. It's quite a nice and comforting option to explore. It can happen immediately after 2.1 or slowly, with them continuing to work together or hanging out from time to time. It's nice to see that like 95% of all the post-2.1 arts of them are examples of this (it doesn't mean that I don't love the remaining 5% btw).

He might also see it as a giant gamble. ("For the first time in my adult life I allow myself to be so emotionally vulnerable, opening myself to get really hurt, but the risk is worth it.")

2. He said something about only seeing friends as tools. I think he often uses his charm and wits to win people over, to make them act in his interests, to make them think that they actually like him. As a kind of subconscious self-defense mechanism, he would convince himself that Ratio only acts this way according to his own cunning manipulations and should be discarded after he'd outlived his usefulness. (cue angst)

3. Psychological problems. There is a whole sad collection to choose from, all deep-seated and subconcious. Mistaking Ratio's care for pity and getting offended by it. Feeling like he's not worthy of love. "I suffered alone my whole life, where have you been all this time, now it's too late, I don't need you anymore". And countless others. There's no way he's ever going to therapy, so they'll have to sort it out by themselves.

4. The most delicious option (and by that I mean SUFFERING *looks at two previous options* that is, MORE SUFFERING). A big part of his survivor's guilt is the supersticious idea that he owes his luck to his family's death. The only people he ever cared about and who ever cared about him died because of it. Being close to somebody means danger to them.

He knows that Ratio wouldn't accept his superstition based concerns. So the only way to save him is to hurt him emotionally to drive him away. 

But. What if Aventurine overcomes it and discards all these supersticious concerns (as he should). They get closer. And then Ratio does get hurt. It's serious, like, he's in the hospital, he lost an arm, something like that.

Imagine Aventurine's panic: "I brought it on him, I couldn't protect him, the only way to save him from worse is to leave him forever, immediately." And Ratio, recovering from a devastating injury, the first time in his life when he needs (and expects) support - he's abandoned.

It would probably crush his underlying philosophy of doing big good things for humanity (the way he cured that terrible disease, resolved the universal energy crisis, and is currently spreading education because he thinks that humanity is worthy of it). I mean, it's easy to care about humanity from afar, detached from it. It's much harder when your first attempt at a personal relationship ends in devatating pain.

[starsreminisce]

SJM has a specific way of describing females when they meet their mate, often illustrated through the females staring at their mates unabashedly. This was particularly pronounced in the way she differentiated how Elain was when she first met Lucien and Azriel, and how Gwyn was the first time she met Azriel compared to the second time after her shellshock.

In regards to Elain, SJM made sure to show her fear towards the Illyrians, but with Lucien, she only cringed away once before allowing him to hold her while Nesta was under the cauldron and then staring at him when she was taken away from him.

In ACOMAF, Feyre's experience and Rhys's recounting of their initial meeting highlight this dynamic as well. Rhys described an underlying sense of fear and apprehension, yet there was an undeniable connection. This pattern suggests that SJM intentionally creates an initial sense of tension and unspoken attraction between mates.

Gwyn's encounters with Azriel, especially the second time after her shellshock, also emphasize this distinct dynamic. By having the females stare at their mates unabashedly, SJM underscores the unique connections and the deep, instinctual draw mates feel towards each other, showcasing this inexplicit yet powerful bond.

Feyre with Rhys

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me. For a moment, we said nothing. Thank you didn’t seem to cover what he’d done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak—made me want to run in the other direction.

Nesta with Cassian

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?” Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.” Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely.

Gwyn with Azriel at Sangravah

“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it. Morrigan arrived a few minutes later, and then Rhysand appeared, and it became clear some of the soldiers had gotten away with the piece of the Cauldron, so Azriel headed after them. Mor healed me as best she could, then brought me to the library. I couldn’t … I couldn’t bear to be at the temple, with the others. To see Catrin’s grave and know I failed her, to see that kitchen every day for the rest of my life.

Gwyn with Azriel two years later

Gwyn had been distracted today—one eye on the other side of the ring. Cassian could only assume she was watching his brother, who had given Gwyn a small smile of greeting upon arrival. Gwyn hadn’t returned it. Cassian cursed himself for a fool. He should have asked her if she’d be comfortable with Azriel here. Perhaps he should have asked all the priestesses about including another male, but especially Gwyn—whom Azriel had found that day in Sangravah. She’d said nothing about it during the lesson. Only glanced every now and then toward Az, who remained dutifully focused on his charges. Cassian couldn’t read the expression on her face.

Elain with Lucien

There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints. Tamlin remained leashed on the ground, a gag of white, iridescent magic in his mouth now. But his eyes were on Lucien as— As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him—Cassian again stirred—trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again. .... Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way. The bonds on Tamlin vanished, along with the gag. He was instantly on his feet, snarling at the king. Even the fist on my mind lightened to a mere caress. As if he knew he’d won. ... Nesta slammed into Lucien, grabbing Elain from his arms, and screamed at him as he fell back, “Get off her!” Elain’s feet slipped against the floor, but Nesta gripped her upright, running her hands over Elain’s face, her shoulders, her hair— “Elain, Elain, Elain,” she sobbed. But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain— Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

Elain with Azriel

Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. Elain trembled in the upholstered, carved wood chair to her left. I did them all a favor and took the one to Nesta’s right. Cassian claimed the spot beside Elain, who clenched her fork as if she might wield it against him, and Rhys slid into the seat beside me, Azriel on his other side. A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers whiteknuckled on that fork, but he kept silent, focusing instead, as Cassian was subtly trying to do, on adjusting his wings around a human chair.

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 16)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (2.6k words, jealous nando, face fucking, daddy kink?) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I watched the '06 Chinese gp while writing the first bit but it wasnt in english so... idek what happened}

last part - masterlist - next part

Sebastian ran up to Lance, who was walking next to Lawrence, having just parked his car when he caught a glimpse of the Racing Point driver.

"Lancey!" He said, arm wrapping around the Canadians shoulders "Funny seeing you here"

"Wow, BMW called you back?" Lance laughed, faking the surprised look on his face

"Okay, dick." Sebastian mumbled before laughing too, shoving Lance away as they walked into the paddock, not noticing how Fernando glared at the German boy as he walked next to Lance.

Qualifying came and went, Lance once again going straight to Sebastian after he finished.

"God, expected you to do a little better Mr. Race Winner" Seb teased, knowing nothing was ever serious between the two

"Fuck off" Lance shook his head, hoisting himself up onto the counter in the BMW garage, his friend's hands settling on his leg as they continued speaking.

Fernando watched the exchange from a distance, his eyes narrowing as Sebastian and Lance continued their playful banter. Despite his focus on the upcoming race, a twinge of jealousy gnawed at him. He knew Lance and Sebastian had been friends for a while, but seeing them together always stirred something uneasy inside him.

As Fernando approached, Lance caught sight of him and his face lit up. "Hola, Nando!" he called, waving him over. "Just catching up with Seb."

Fernando forced a smile, though his eyes didn't quite match the warmth. "I see that," he said, glancing briefly at Sebastian. "Nice to see you driving in FP1 again Sebastian."

Sebastian nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Fernando. Congrats on pole. You were flying out there."

"Thanks," Fernando replied, his tone polite but clipped. He turned his attention back to Lance. "Ready for tomorrow?"

Lance nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, P10 is not too bad. Should be able to make up some ground during the race."

Fernando's expression softened a bit at Lance's excitement. "You'll do great," he said, his voice genuinely encouraging. "Just stay focused."

As they talked, Sebastian's phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. "I gotta go," he said, looking back at Lance. "Team meeting. Catch you later?"

Lance nodded. "Sure thing. See you, Seb."

Sebastian waved and jogged off, leaving Fernando and Lance alone. Fernando immediately felt the tension in his shoulders ease. "So," he said, trying to sound casual, "you and Seb seem pretty close."

Lance shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, we've known each other for a while. He's a great guy, and an okay driver sometimes."

Fernando hummed noncommittally, looking away for a moment. "Just-" He started, unsure what he wanted to say "make sure you don't get too distracted by him."

Lance raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying tension. "Nando, are you jealous?"

Fernando's eyes snapped back to Lance's, his mouth opening to protest, but no words came out. Lance slid off the counter, stepping closer, placing a hand on Fernando's arm. "You know you're the only one I care about, right?"

Fernando sighed, his posture relaxing as he met Lance's gaze. "I know," he admitted quietly. "It's just hard sometimes, seeing you naturally go to him."

Lance smiled, his hand giving Fernando's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You have nothing to worry about," he said softly. "I promise."

Fernando nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Okay," he said, feeling a bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. "Let's get ready for tomorrow, then. We have a race to win."

It rained before the race and lingered into the first few laps. Lance was excited to drive in the now damp conditions. They were now lined up on the grid and Fernando, starting from pole, had an excellent start, leading into the first turn. The rain played to the strengths of the Michelin tyres, giving him an early advantage.

Further back, Lance managed to navigate the conditions without incident, maintaining his position and focusing on a steady race. The chaos of the opening laps saw a collision between the two Roberts, resulting in Kubica being knocked off track and Doornbos losing his front wing. Lance, keeping his composure, avoided the turmoil and continued his race with a steady hand.

"Doing good, Lance. Be careful."

"Will do, Brad. Thanks"

Later, as the track dried, Fernando was struggling with his degrading tyres. Schumacher caught up to Fisichella by lap 19 and was gaining on Fernando, who was struggling with his car’s grip and having several off-track moments.

Fernando pitted on lap 22, changing his front tires but leaving the rears, Lance not far behind.

Renault's decision proved costly as his tires quickly lost performance. His earlier pit stop left him vulnerable, and within a few laps, his 20-second lead evaporated.

Meanwhile, Lance was running a consistent race, taking advantage of the changing conditions and maintaining his focus. His steady approach paid off, keeping him in the hunt for points.

"Alonso P1, Coulthard and Liuzzi are ahead. You are faster." Brad spoke, Lance smiling at the mention of Fernando (and the fact that he would most likely be able to pass two two cars ahead of him.)

On lap 35, Fernando pitted to switch to dry tyres, but a problematic wheel nut extended his stop to over 19 seconds, dropping him to fourth and over 50 seconds behind the leaders.

In the closing stages, Fernando rediscovered his pace, setting fastest lap after fastest lap, closing in on Schumacher. Fisichella let him past without a fight, but despite his rapid pace, he ran out of time to catch Schumacher, finishing just three seconds behind in second place. Fisichella still in third.

Lance's steady drive earned him a valuable point, finishing 8th. His engineer quick to praise the boy over the radio once he crossed the finish line

After the race, Sebastian was waiting in the Racing Point garage to congratulate Lance. As he walked in, tired but pleased with his performance, Sebastian approached him with a wide smile.

"Great job, Lancey! You did amazing out there," he said, pulling Lance into a tight hug, arms snaking around the Canadians waist.

Lance grinned, rolling his eyes at the stupid nickname the German boy had began calling him. "Thanks, Sebby. It was a tough race, I'm still all wet, but I'm happy with the point."

From a distance, Fernando watched the two with a tight jaw. The podium celebrations were going to begin soon, but his eyes were fixed on the Racing Point garage. Seeing Sebastian and Lance together, laughing and celebrating the boys race, stirred that familiar jealousy. He knew he had nothing to worry about, but the sight of them so close continued to cause a pang of insecurity. Seeing Lance so close to an attractive man his own age made him wonder why Lance had chosen him out of everyone he was surrounded by.

After the podium ceremony, Fernando found Lance in the garage. Lance saw the look on Fernando’s face and sighed. "Nando, it’s just Seb. We’re friends."

Fernando hummed, ignoring what Lance said as he grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the Canadians drivers room, a situation that was all too familiar for them.

Before Lance could even ask the man what he was doing the door was locked and his back was pressed against it. It was almost scary, the look in Fernandos eyes. Was he seriously this upset over Lance having friends?

"Nando, what's wrong?" He asked, hands pressed against the Spaniards chest as he waited for him to respond, the only response being his lips finding their way to Lance's neck.

His eyes closed at the feeling, breath shakey as Fernando kissed and nipped at the skin from his jaw to his ear, sucking on it long enough to leave light marks for everyone to see.

"F..Fuck, Nando" Lance breathed, fingers getting tangled in the Spaniards overgrown brown hair, head falling back against the door as he felt himself getting hard, bucking his hips forward to brush against Fernando's core.

"Stop it." He practically growled, hand gripping the taller boys hips to keep him still, not planning on giving him what he wanted.

Fernando was already changed out of his race suit, now in normal clothes unlike Lance who was embarrassingly hard in his half unzipped race suit, toes curling in his pink boots.

"Please" Lance whined, hand finding its way to Fernando's buldge, pawing at the tent in his jeans as the Spaniard pulled away from his neck

"Please, what?" Fernando asked, cocking his head to the side as if he didn't know what his boy wanted. Of course he knew, but he wanted the boy to beg. Wanted Lance to beg for his cock.

"Need you, Nando" He pouted, obediently falling to his knees when Fernando shoved him, big brown seal pup eyes staring up at the man above as he waited for anything, he'd take anything.

"Do the work, then."

They'd done a lot since July but every time they'd been intimate Fernando was the one doing the work, touching Lance, showing him what to do, instructing his every move. Lance had never done anything for himself and Fernando didn't feel like being generous

"Nando, I-" Lance started, eyes level with the bulge in Fernandos jeans "I don't know-"

"Figure it out," Fernando said bluntly, reaching out and cupping Lance's cheek, brushing his hair out of his face as he cooed "You're a smart boy, Lancito. Can my smart boy do as he's told?"

He simply nodded, not wanting to disappoint the Spaniard in front of him. It was risky, obviously, being on his knees by the door with Fernando standing over him. The garage was crowded when they'd gone into his drivers room so someone had to have seen. He had to be quick.

Lance didn't hesitate to lift his hands, unzipping then pulling down the Spaniards jeans and boxers just enough so his cock was exposed. They couldn't take off too much, his dad was at the race, he had to have some kind of excuse if he knocked.

He looked back up at Fernando, needing some form of confirmation that he was doing alright. The Spaniard knew what he needed so he nodded, hand still on Lance's cheek as he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out slightly.

At first he just licked the tip, surprised Fernando was already leaking precum just from the sight of Lance on his knees.

He was taking too long in Fernandos opinion, he had to hold himself back from forcing himself all the way inside and taking advantage of Lance's mouth. But he could only hold back for so long.

Lance wrapped his lips around just the tip, cautiously taking in more, not wanting to scrape his teeth against the sensitive skin. As he got closer to the base he began to gag, Fernando's cock too large to fit all the way inside.

The Canadian looked up again, apologizing with his eyes for not being able to take it all.

"C'mon, Lancito, can you not take it all? Am I too big for your pretty little mouth?"

Lance hummed in response, cock twitching at the sight of Fernandos face contorting from the sensation.

"Do you need my help, Mi sol?" He asked, letting go of Lance's face, silently telling him it was okay to pull away and he did.

He looked up at Fernando and nodded, pleading for the older mans help.

"Use your words." He said harshly, something about his tone making Lance squirm under his gaze

"Please, need you to help me, papi." Lance whined, face lighting up when Fernando moved his hand to the back of the boys head, gripping his hair slightly.

Fernando started slow, being patient and gentle with the boy as he tried to fit his full length inside his mouth. He felt as his tip hit the back of Lance's throat, the Canadian gagging again.

He realized that if he continued at this pace nothing would get done. Lance would simply continue to gag around him if he didn't force himself further.

He gradually picked up the pace, watching as Lance's eyes squeezed shut as he repeatedly thrusted into the back of his throat.

The boy started drooling, spit dribbling down his chin as Fernando only got faster. Lance's eyes filled with tears quickly, already looking so dishevelled and the Spaniard had barely started.

Lance tried his best to keep his teeth covered, not caring how much he gagged or how many tears he shed if he was making Fernando feel good. His vision was blurry, unable to see the expression on the mans face but the stream of noises leaving his lips confirmed he was getting at least some form of pleasure out of this.

The shorter man only got rougher, grip tightening as his cock twitched in Lance's mouth, practically shoving Lance into the door behind him over and over as he pulled his head back and forth onto his dick.

It was weird, to Lance, how much he was enjoying being used by Fernando like this. No matter how much he gagged or drooled or cried he still found himself getting closer and closer to his release every time Fernando's tip slammed into the back of his throat.

Lance closes his eyes again and attempts to relax his throat. Even as he tries to open himself up more of the Spaniard he's well aware he's not able to comfortably take Fernando's full length in his mouth, it still seems like progress.

Fernando continues at the same exhausting pace, not even thinking about stopping until he feels himself getting closer, knowing that if he continues like this he wont be able to for long.

Lance could tell, the way the Spaniards cock twitched in his mouth and his moans slowly turned to groans he knew his boyfriend was getting closer. His only goal was to make Fernando cum.

"Fuck, Lancito." The older man muttered, pulling away from Lance, watching as his cock stayed connected to the boy through strings of saliva. "Such a good boy for me, letting me use your pretty throat, did so good."

Lance whimpered at the praise, close to his own release even without being touched. He couldn't form words but he was praying the look on his face said enough. Need your cum.

Fernando let go of the boys hair, smoothing it down gently, only now feeling bad for how rough he'd been. When his eyes met Lance's again he knew what he needed, know how much of a cum slut he could be.

"Go on, take what you need."

That was all he needed, he reached out and began stroking Fernandos length, pleased with how little it took to make the Spaniard cum. He painted the Canadians face with thin white streaks, slowly dripping down his pale skin. He was almost embarrassed at the fact that Fernando cumming on his face is what pushed him over the edge.

"Bet Sebastian could never make you feel this good, hm, Lancito?" He asked, pulling his boxers and jeans back up before kneeling, adoring the pathetic sight of Lancs sticking his tongue out to collect what he could, swallowing as much cum he could reach.

"No, papi," The boy shook his head, a mix of cum and tears on his cheeks as he met Fernando's gaze. "Only you can make me feel this good, Nando"

His voice was hoarse, jaw sore as he waited for more orders from Fernando

"Good, now let's get you cleaned up then warn your trainer about the mess she'll find in your suit." Fernando hummed, helping Lance get up before wiping off his face with tissues the Canadian happened to have in the corner of the small room.

[bangtanficsforyou]

They Reject You (maknae line)

Pairing: maknae line x reader (fuckboi! Jimin x Reader, Co-worker Taehyung x Reader, Idol Jungkook x Reader)

Warnings: swear words here and there.

Word count: 4.6K

Park Jimin

"Well if it isn't my favourite girl." A voice slurs slowly, right next to your ears which makes you flinch in surprise.

"Jimin, gosh, what's wrong with you?" You say in an annoyed manner, immediately recognising the person. "Also, maybe keep some distance?"

Jimin pouts exaggeratedly and puts extra effort into widening his eyes for special effects. "Don't you find me being this close to you, heart racing-ly desirable?"

"Heart racing-ly? That's a new one," you snort and roll your eyes. "But to answer your question; no. It is not heart racing-ly desirable." 

"Lie all you want but we all know the truth," Jimin smirks and you can't help but wonder how on earth he manages to remain this cocky even when drunk.

"Cut the crap and stop wasting my time." You turn around to leave, not wanting to give Jimin the time of your day. From your previous experiences, you know that Jimin only ever causes trouble.

"I'm not feeling good, Y/N," he whines, all cockiness suddenly gone from his tone as he pleads gently. "Don't leave me."

You contemplate for a split second before huffing in defeat. "What do you mean by you're not feeling good?" 

"I don't know," he shrugs with a sad frown. "I just don't feel good."

Instinctively, you place your palms on his forehead only to find his skin to be burning hot. 

"Jimin!" You exclaim, your feelings of indifference instantly turning into that of concern. "You have high fever."

"That might explain why I was feeling so hot," he nods. "But I thought that was because of how attractive I am."

Any other time, you would have retorted with a comeback but right now you pay no attention to his words. "Come with me, we need to get you back to your room. You need rest." 

Much to your surprise, Jimin doesn't throw a protest and lets you hold his hand as you make way for the both of you through the partying crowd. 

Thankfully his room is only upstairs (one of the many pros of being a frat boy living in a frat house) and you don't have much trouble getting there.

Making Jimin sit on the bed, you look for medicines that can help with his fever. "How long have you been feeling unwell?"

"For about an hour."

You have half a mind to lecture him on how drinking should be the last thing he should have done while feeling unwell, but you decide to keep it in. Maybe when he's sober and in a better health condition, you will give him an earful.

Right now, it's more important to understand the severity of the situation.

"Did you stay out for too long at night? Or stayed with wet clothes on? Or something that might have led to you having a fever?" 

Jimin's drunk mind feels perplexed by the series of questions you're throwing his way. "Does it matter?" 

"Yes, it does," you respond shortly.

As a nursing student, you know how important it is to know the source of any sickness. If his fever can be tracked down to any possible cause, you'd have this reassurance that there's most likely nothing to worry about. However, if the fever seems to have appeared out of nowhere, there are chances that it may be a symptom of some underlying infection.

Your response makes Jimin think. Has he done anything in recent days that could have led to this? At first, nothing comes to mind. But after a few moments of intense brainstorming, something clicks in his brain.

"Does having two hours of shower sex count?" He queries seriously.

Your hands momentarily falter on their journey of looking for the first aid box but you recover quickly. 

"Should have expected something like that from you," you grumble in annoyance.

"Don't be mean," he complains in a whine. "It's not my fault that the sex was so good. Plus, she kept asking for more and you know I can't say no to that."

You slam the drawer shut and aggressively open the box, having finally found it. You take out a tablet and hand it over to Jimin with a glass of water. 

Once Jimin has taken the medicine, you arrange the pillows for him and take a blanket out. "Go to sleep. Let your body have some rest."

"Are you leaving?" He asks in a quiet voice, reminding you of a small child asking a question they already know the answer to.

"I don't think I have any purpose being here. I'll ask Jungkook to stay with you in case you need something."

"Jungkook won't take care of me the way you do," Jimin replies with a huff, thoroughly displeased with the idea of you leaving him.

"That's not my issue," you shrug.

Jimin switches to his last option, one that works every time and on everyone; his famous, irresistible puppy eyes. "Do you not have any sympathy for me?"

You scoff, your patience running thin. You really don't want to have a fight or speak your mind while he's having a fever, but if he continues to prod you this way, he will be responsible for the inevitable outburst.

Jimin feels unhappy with your lack of response and he attempts once again. "Won't you do this much for me? Please?"

That's it. The way his soft voice pulls at your heartstrings does it for you.

"Can you, for once, not think only for yourself?" You snap.

Now that was not the reaction Jimin was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"Don't try to play dumb," you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Don't tell me you have no idea how I feel about you."

Although drunk, Jimin's mind registers the seriousness of your words and he immediately looks sheepish. "I don't."

Well, that's a lie and both you and Jimin know it.

A sarcastic smile appears on your face. "I'll spell it out for you, again. I like you Jimin."

Jimin looks down and starts fiddling with the end of the bedsheets as he nods, having no other response. 

You sigh, wondering why you expected any other, perhaps a more thoughtful reaction from him. Feeling disappointed with yourself, you make your way out without another word.

On your way, however, you make sure to find Jungkook and ask him to look after Jimin. 

Once you're out of the frat house and have booked a cab to your rented apartment, you sit on a small bench and take a deep inhale to relax. Sadly and much to your frustration, the emotions that have come to the surface refuse to let you have your peace of mind.

You really should have stayed away from Jimin, from the very start.

Your brain chimes at you and it reminds you that perhaps there's no one else to be blamed but you. You are the one who has been entertaining Jimin all in the name of not entertaining him. 

It was a frat party much similar to that of today's when Jimin had first tried to add your name to the long list of girls he has had sex with. You were surprised, caught off guard and admittedly a little flattered by his flirtatious actions but irrespective of that, you weren't willing to be a part of his list.

You had asked him to fuck off and to leave you alone. Which he had done at the time but only to return later with much more determination to win you over. By then, you weren't feeling flattered by his repeated attempts, you were annoyed. Something, which Jimin found amusing.

The more he tried, the more your annoyance flared and so did Jimin's amusement. It went like this for a couple of weeks.

Things started to change when you stumbled upon a drunk Jimin sitting alone on the terrace. That was the first time the both of you had a proper conversation with each other. It made you realise that the whole fuckboy thing he has going on, is only a small part of him. You realised that there's much more to the guy than what meets the eye.

From then on you stopped treating him like a guy whose sole identity was that of the 'campus fuckboy'. 

That doesn't mean that his actions stopped annoying you. But you sure found it more tolerable.

However, exactly when your feelings for him turned romantic, remains debatable. Was it the night when he drunkenly kissed you? Or was it when he drunkenly confessed that he enjoys your company more than anyone else's? You don't know. 

But you do remember, exactly when you realised that your feelings for him don't fall under the category of platonic. It was when you saw Jimin making out with a petite blonde in a bar. The pain and jealousy that shot through your veins was an indication enough for you to see how your feelings have bloomed into something more.

You, upon realising, did not hesitate to confess. His response to your confession was simple. He does not do relationships and he sees you as a friend.

You could do with that. You weren't expecting Jimin to return your feelings or to commit to you. After all, you were well aware of his lifestyle and how he likes having lovers instead of a lover. 

The only reason you had confessed to him was in hopes that he would stop trying to bed you and realise that it isn't just fun and games for you anymore.

Unfortunately, Jimin didn't stop with his antics.

Annoyed and angry, you had decided to cut Jimin off. But of course, he wouldn't have that. He would, in some way or the other, sneak into your daily life and cause a ruckus as if it were his birthright. 

Truth be told, you weren't hurt by his rejection as much as you were by his total disregard for your feelings and how his actions and choices could affect you. 

The events from today serve as another example of the kind of emotional turmoil he stirs within you. The question is how long will you put up with this?

Your cab honks to announce its arrival and it causes you to break out of your thoughts. You give a small nod to the man in the driving seat and get up. As you walk towards the cab, you make up your mind. 

You're not going to entertain him any longer. 

Kim Taehyung

You: that's very mean of you 👿

You type with a wide grin plastered on your face.

Tae 🐻: mean? me? Never 🥺

You: putting that emoji won't help you 👿

Tae 🐻: ☹️

Tae 🐻: I sent you the snap of the chocolate because it reminded me of you 😔

You: that was NOT your intention 😤

You: you do this every time and then i start craving chocolates 😭

Tae 🐻: then have some 🙇

You: i have to complete the excel sheet by today :(:

You: which mean i can't go out

You: and if I opt for ordering online, I'll end up ordering a bunch of other stuff along with it and that won't be good for my wallet 

Tae 🐻: awwww

Tae 🐻: It's okay! I'll bring you chocolates tomorrow 

Tae 🐻: from your favourite brand 😉

You: you sweetheart 🥺

Tae 🐻: says the sweetest ❤️

A bashful giggle escapes from your lips when you read his text. He sure has a way with words.

You: now let me do my work

You: shoo

Tae: ☹️

Tae: I'm being chased away 

Tae: but okay xD

Tae: I'll let you get back to it. 

You bite on your lower lip to stop smiling like a fool and try to focus your attention on the computer screen. Keyword; try.

The butterflies in your stomach and the fluttering of your heart make it extremely difficult for you to think about anything else that's not Taehyung.

Gosh, he really is the greatest distraction of them all.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you find a big pack of chocolate from your favourite brand, on your desk. Attached to it is a note that reads for my favourite girl ;). You smile involuntarily and wonder what you ever did to deserve someone like Taehyung in your life. 

You sit on your chair and while the computer boots, you take a small bite from the chocolate bar. As you relish the sweetness that spreads in your mouth, you can't help but think of Taehyung and how much he has come to mean to you, in the few months that you have known him. 

When he first joined the company he was shy, barely talking to anyone and having a hard time socialising with his co-workers. It took him about a couple of weeks to get comfortable and once he did, there was no going back. He somehow became everyone's favourite. 

However, the way you two became friends is a bit different. 

Four months ago, on a fortunate day, there was a huge mishap with the data files. Small groups were formed to work on the mistakes and correct them as necessary. As fate would have it, you and Taehyung were a team. And the amount of jokes you two made about your higher-ups, were perhaps the only source of energy for you both to carry on with the work and ultimately, finish it. 

And those three intense working days were enough for the two of you to become friends. 

It started with having small conversations via text, which then turned into full lengthy regular conversations. In the midst of all of that, when the flirting began, you have no clue. All you remember are those nights when you stayed up late, talking to him and smiling into your pillow, feeling like a teenager. 

He would sneak little compliments and warm affectionate words that would have you looking like a tomato in a matter of seconds.

Most importantly, he has become one of your closest friends. He has been there whenever you needed him and has confided in you whenever he faced challenges. The bond you two share is something you treasure deeply. He has become such an integral part of your life that there hardly goes by a day when the two of you don't talk to each other.

It's one of those 'more than friends' but 'not really dating' scenarios.

You had never given much thought about giving a label to what the two of you were. You were happy having him the way you do. But recently, you can't help but think of taking things to the next level. You find yourself wondering what it would be like to call him your boyfriend. 

As the all too familiar windows tune plays, notifying you of the booting process being completed, you decide to subtly ask him about it. 

----------------------------------------

"Did you like the chocolates?" That's the first thing Taehyung asks as you take the seat opposite to him.

"Do you think I would not like it?" You answer his question with a question of your own. Because honestly, that's a very silly question to ask. Anyone who knows you knows how much you love chocolates.

Taehyung grins, his boxy smile making an appearance. "I mean, it would still be nice to hear it from you."

"Well, then, I loved it." 

He nods, satisfied with your answer. Placing one of his hands on his chest, right above his heart, he bows. "I'm honoured to know that."

You chuckle softly, endeared at his actions. "How was your day so far?"

He rolls his eyes. "Eh, the usual. Mina got some files messed up and I had to do twice the work to fix that."

"That sucks," you grimace. "Work has been so tiring lately, I wish we could take a small break from all this shit."

"Oh, that reminds me–" Taehyung exclaims suddenly, startling you, "–I have got these free tickets to a movie, would you like to go with me?"

Excitement bubbles in your stomach. "Sure! I'd love to."

"Then it's set! I'll let you know of the date and time later, okay?" 

You nod, feeling giddy at the thought of watching a movie with him. It won't be the first time for sure, but it has been a while since the two of you last did something like this. Work hardly leaves any spare time for rest and fun.

However, the thought of spending some alone time with him, makes your mind go back to what you had decided while you were devouring the chocolate. You clear your throat before bringing the topic to the table. "Tae?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing?"

He looks up from his food, with a confused smile. "What do you mean by that? We are eating lunch." 

You shake your head softly, and make your question more obvious. "What are we?" 

You see as his confusion clears out and his smile fades. A look of discomfort appears on his face as he swallows the food. "Well, we are friends." 

"Are we just friends though?" You raise a brow in question, not willing to accept his answer. 

A soft sigh escapes his lips when he realises he can't really back out of this or push the conversation away for some time later. "You aren't just a friend to me. I like you. I like you a lot."

You stay quiet, sensing that there's a but coming. 

"But I don't think I'm ready to be in a relationship." He adds, figuring out that there's no way to put it subtly. 

That wasn't the answer you were expecting and naturally, you feel disheartened by his words.

Taehyung notices the way your face has dropped and he immediately feels guilty. "I know I should have told you this before. My intentions weren't to string you along, I genuinely do like you–"

"Then why?" You cut him off, confused and unable to understand what could be the issue if he really likes you the way he claims to.

"I am scared it will distract me from my career."

Your first instinct is to counter his statement and say, it doesn't work that way. That relationships are not a distraction. But you hold yourself back from saying so. 

If he believes that having a relationship will distract him, you cannot force or persuade him to believe otherwise. If anything, you understand where he might be coming from. He has only recently joined the company and you know he has experienced financial issues while growing up. You can see why he might be scared of something making him lose his focus. Having an established career is what he wants and what seems to be his priority.

Although you have been hoping and looking forward to putting a label, you know you can't expect that from him anymore. You could try and ask him to reconsider his choices but what good would that do? 

Even if he were to get into a relationship, he would most likely still have that thought in the back of his mind and will keep worrying about getting sidetracked. What's the point of committing to someone if you can't really enjoy it to the fullest? What is the point of calling someone yours, if you can't fully feel the beauty of it? You see none.

"Maybe, we can wait for each other?" He suggests meekly, too scared to see what your reaction to the question is.

Now, waiting for each other and whatnot sounds really romantic in movies and romcoms but you have to remind yourself that this is not a movie. In real life, irrespective of the intentions the individuals may hold, somewhere along the line, something usually happens that causes chaos and turns things sour. 

"How about we just let things flow and see where it takes us?" You suggest as that seems like the best possible choice at the moment.

Taehyung nods knowing he's in no place to bargain. He will take whatever you will give him. However, it bugs him to no end when you spend the rest of the lunch in silence and with a frown on your face.

Jeon Jungkook

"Can you sit still for a moment?"

The person in question, aka Jungkook, pays no attention to your words and hollers when something exciting occurs on the screen of his mobile phone. 

You sigh and place your palms on both of his cheeks and make him look up. However, the adorable sight of his squished cheeks, pouty lips and doe eyes wide in surprise, has you snorting. When you let go of your hold, he frowns, offended by your laughter.

"What's so funny about my face?" He grumbles.

You shake your head and apply blush on his cheeks. "You just looked like a real bunny for a second there, couldn't help but laugh at that."

He pouts. "That's supposed to be cute, not funny."

A fond smile appears on your face at his displeasure. "You're both cute and funny, I guess."

Jungkook grins at you, now satisfied. "Now make me cuter."

"I'll be able to do that if you stay still for a moment," you retort. 

Jungkook huffs and closes his eyes. "Fine! I'll stay still."

You hum in response and get to work. 

Being Jungkook's make-up artist was fairly easy. You just had to make his beautiful face appear flawless for the cameras. Nothing too difficult. Jungkook was friendly and so were the other BTS members. The pay was, of course, more than satisfactory.

Recently, however, being Jungkook's make-up artist hasn't been easy. It hasn't been easy being this close to him and keeping the fluttering of your heart under control. It hasn't been easy to see his eyes this up close and not let yourself get lost in them. It hasn't been easy to notice that small mole under his lips and resist the urge to kiss it. Oh no, it hasn't been easy at all. 

One might call you unprofessional and to be honest, you don't have much to defend yourself with. Rather, if someone questions your professionalism, you'd challenge them to take your job and not fall for the guy.

You think it's simply impossible.

But you see, that's the simple part. Falling. The consequences of falling, however, are where the complications begin. 

The very first question that comes to mind is; what are the chances that they might feel the same? Then one realises that there's no way to answer this for sure as it's only the other person who's aware of what they feel. Which leads to a major dilemma; to confess or not to confess. 

Confessing your feelings is a very vulnerable thing to do. It feels like exposing yourself at one's mercy. Like a delicate bud that you hand over and whether the flower will bloom or wilt, totally depends on the other person. 

It's beautiful yet scary.

For a long time, you haven't been willing to be that vulnerable with Jungkook.

All anxieties that come with confessing aside, you can't ignore the fact that he's a world-famous idol.

You are not worried about word getting out about you falling for him. You hardly think that it will cause a stir. If anything, the fans will probably make memes out of it and will agree with you on how impossible it is to not fall for the guy. The memes will be all over the internet for a few months and after that, they will be gone and will resurface every once in a while. That doesn't seem like much to you and you think you can handle it.

What does worry you is word getting out and you getting fired and not getting a job henceforth (you're pretty sure that the agencies won't take up on your 'don't fall for Jungkook' challenge). 

This particular fear is what has been holding you back from letting Jungkook know of your feelings. 

However, the thing with love is, you cannot bury it no matter how hard you try. It's like the sun that comes out to shine no matter what. Love blooms in the heart and it refuses to stay hidden for too long behind whatever fears the mind comes up with.

After all, in the battle of mind and heart, when has the former ever won? 

Once you're done with the finishing touches, you let Jungkook know that you're done.

Jungkook opens his eyes and they automatically land on yours. The sharp spike in your breathing rate and the loud thumping of your heartbeat, makes you look away immediately.

You clear your throat and take a slow deep inhale to calm your racing heart. "I'll put the lip balm and foundation in the kit. Just in case you need it."

"You say that every time before a performance as if you're not going to be backstage," he chuckles in amusement.

"Jungkook, the performance is in fifteen," Taehyung says loudly from the other side of the room.

It's like a switch being flipped on. Jungkook's eyes widen and he gets up from his seat instantly. Bidding you a quick goodbye, he exits the room in a hurry. 

You sigh in relief, finally feeling like you can breathe again. Taking a seat on the chair previously occupied by Jungkook, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You notice the red hue on your cheeks and your lips part in awe at how flustered you look. Almost, as if you have run a mile. 

Something about this moment makes you come to a quick decision. For a long time, you have been toying with the idea of confessing but have always backed out every time you had a chance. But not anymore. 

You grab a small piece of paper and a pen and write down what you have been wanting to tell Jungkook.

You make it direct and simple and put it in Jungkook's handbag. 

The moment you zip the chain, you feel this urge to take the chit out and throw it in the dustbin but you somehow, withhold yourself from doing so. 

You are aware that he won't notice the chit until he's back in his dorms. The bag contains all the skin care products (handpicked by you) he uses before going to bed. Which also means you would have to wait until tomorrow when you're back to work to know Jungkook's answer. 

Seems like it's gonna be a sleepless night for you.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you go to work with nervous excitement. While in the car, you couldn't wait for your destination to arrive yet at the same time dreaded it. It's this mixed feeling where you can't decide what you want but in the end, realise that it's better to just get over it.

However, while you're walking towards Jungkook's make-up room, Namjoon calls your name.

"Y/N," he shouts to get your attention. Once he notices he has it, he walks up to you. "My dressing room is the other way." 

"I know that," you say with a small frown, wondering why he is telling you this.

"Oh," Namjoon realises that you're unaware of the changes. "You don't know, do you?"

You shake your head, your confusion only increasing. "Know what?"

"Jungkook has requested a new make-up artist. So now, you're in charge of my make up," he replies. 

Namjoon's words ring in your ears and you feel the world around you fade. You knew that there was always the chance that he doesn't feel the same way. You knew if that were the case it'd hurt but you'd accept it. However, you didn't expect Jungkook to do this. 

It feels like the unbloomed flower has been stomped by someone and you're left to feel the crushing pain. 

A/N: if you wish to support me and want to have early access to all my works, consider visiting my patreon!

[sokkastyles]

What would you say are your MAIN MAIN reasons for disliking Maiko? (I dislike Maiko too I’d just like to maybe hear your main reasons summarized, ty for reading)

The main reason I dislike Maiko is because the narrative wants you to dislike Maiko, up until the finale when the show kind of threw up its hands and decided they needed to pair Zuko up with someone to nerf zutara. Like, I honestly did not expect her to be back in the finale and was thrown through a loop when she was. I think I literally laughed out loud, and not because I was supposed to.

Mai is written as an obstacle in Zuko's redemption arc. It's not a relationship that feels like the writers care about or want their audience to care about. The first time I saw the show, I thought I had missed a scene when Zuko and Mai were suddenly together in the awakening. I think I also laughed in "The Boiling Rock" when Mai showed up, not to help Zuko out of prison, but to yell at him for breaking up with her. Not because it was funny, but because it was so nonsensical.

Mai often feels like a sexist caricature of a "strong woman" / bitchy girlfriend stereotype. The writers don't care about her and neither do I, because there are plenty of other places I can get my fix for well-written female characters, even within atla itself, so I don't need to sit through the writers talking down to me.

That's also why her behavior often comes across as toxic, by the way. I see a lot of people blaming zutara fans for saying that Mai is abusive, but the thing is, she acts this way because of sexist writing, and zutara fans are not wrong to point it out. Because she is given so little narrative space, her actions are often exteme and cartoonish to make up for it. This is a phenomenon that's well documented, so blaming female fans and accusing them of some kind of jealousy over a fictional love interest seems like it's missing the forest for the trees, when the real misogyny is in the writing itself. This article says it best:

That a female character is allowed to get away with behaviour that, in a male character, would rightly be seen as abusive (or outright murderous) may seem – if you’re MRA minded, anyway – an unfair imbalance in her favour. But really these scenes reveals the underlying deficit of respect the character starts with, which she’s then required to overcome by whatever desperate, over-the-top, cartoonish means to hand. She’s in a hole, and acts that would be hair-raising in a male character just barely bring her up to their level.

So when I say that telling your boyfriend - who is recovering from an abusive childhood - to never break up with you is Bad, Actually, I am not saying it because I feel some kind of seething estrogen rage at Mai for having Zuko, I am saying that I demand more from my female characters, and so should you.