#but at least it's the weekend now so i have proper free time to just write without having other things get in the way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitbugbites-re · 7 months

Text

𝙳𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻 // 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

As summer comes to an end, you’re desperate to get some pool time in while you still can. However, since it’s now October, you’re pretty much out of luck. Luckily for you, there’s an indoor pool at the Y. Not to mention, it comes along with a cute pool boy!

a03 link

word count: ~8.6k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // drowning // ktober

a/n: literally supposed to be reading the bible for class rn but god be damned, this lady knows how to write erotic fiction !!!

p.s. -- if you're only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

You’re not crazy. You just want to swim.

Frowning, you stared down your phone as you read the most recent messages from your friends. They were replying to the flurry of texts you had just sent.

The first response read: “Girl. Lol.”

The next was: “You didn’t think about this in September???”

And the last response wasn’t even a response. It was a TikTok link leading to a video about things to do while in Vegas. You didn’t even live in Vegas. You’re on the East Coast.

You sighed, placing the phone down for a second before popping a Keurig cup into the proper machine, waiting for it to finish warming the water. When the buttons lit up, you pressed 12oz and leaned over the counter, one of your hands resting on your cheek. With your free hand, you picked your phone back up and re-read your initial texts as you listened to the liquid pour a straight line into your mug.

“u guys”

“I wanted to go swimming at least once this summer but I forgot”

“do u think there are any pools still open??? I don’t even care if its cold im desperate”

Yeah, so maybe you are a little crazy after all. It was October, and there was no way that even one pool would be open. You felt a little defeated, your desperation morphing into disappointment. Suddenly, the whirring of the Keurig slowed before spitting out the last bits of bitterly strong tea, a burning droplet jumping out and landing on your hand. You wondered if that was the Keurig’s way of calling you crazy as well.

Shaking your hand before wiping it with the opposite sleeve of your shirt, you stood up straight and leaned your back against the counter. With your phone in hand, you tapped out a string of shushing emojis in the group chat. Fuck it. You’re crazy and you’re proud.

You then pressed the video on, “Fun Things To Do In Vegas” which was accompanied by three exclamation points and a couple of emojis with their tongues out. The emojis implication almost made you a little scared of what “things” were going to be listed in the TikTok.

Before you could actually watch the video, though, a notification from your group chat popped up. It was from the friend who sent the Vegas video – they likely just now actually read the chat.

“Claire: Wait, what about the YMCA near your house? Doesn’t it have an indoor pool? Probably not the same kind of swimming that u were thinking of, but it’d be swimming lol.”

Oh shit. That’s a good idea. – Is what you both thought and simultaneously typed in response. Not missing a beat, you opened the search engine app on your phone and looked up the YMCA closest to you. Just under the images (which mostly consisted of it’s pool, oddly enough), you noticed that it was open from 5 A.M. to 9 P.M.

It was only 6:30 P.M. right now. Meaning, it was still open.

You switched back to the group chat’s tab and typed away.

“guess who’s going to the pool tonight”

“(it’s me)”

“anyone wanna come with?”

Surprisingly, the responses flooded in pretty quickly. They said:

“Claire: I wish, but I’ve got a class in an hour. I knew it was a bad decision to pick a class at 7 at night smh. Can’t ever meet up with u guys on weekends anymore :/”

“Ada: Can’t. Lots of work. Maybe next time.”

“Jill: Sorry, I’m at work right now. Had to pick up my coworker’s shift again. How about on the weekend?”

You groaned out a whine, throwing a mini-tantrum. You didn’t really want to go alone, because what fun would that be? Nonetheless, you didn’t want to wait for the weekend either. It was rare you guys ever actually had the same schedule, so you were sure the plans would just end up getting canceled or be pushed back even further. You’d just have to go alone.

You typed out a message informing your friends of your plan before placing the phone down with a heavy hand. Dragging your way down the narrow hall to your room, you plopped yourself down on your knees, opening up the dresser drawer that stored your bathing suits. You had an idea of which one you were going to wear, as it was a black one-piece with a deep-wired V down the front – It was appealing in the way that it wasn’t too revealing, but not unattractively modest either. Perfect for a venue that was family-friendly and not as free as the beach.

After a couple of minutes of rummaging, you slumped down to a hunch and huffed. You couldn’t seem to find the swimsuit. Not even after pulling out each bathing suit one by one. You searched, and searched, and searched, but it was nowhere to be found.

You caved to your frustration and picked out a bikini instead. You didn’t have any other swimsuits, so it was either a simplistic bikini or nothing. And after all that hullabaloo in the group chat, you were not choosing nothing.

Changing quickly, you then grabbed your things and headed for the car. It was now already after 6:45 P.M., and you were running out of time before the Y would close.

Soon enough, you were turning your car wheel to pull into the YMCA’s parking lot. You found a spot fairly fast and quickly put the car in park, removing your keys from the hole with a twist and pull of the wrist. As the car’s engine whirred, shutting off, you observed the parking lot. You noticed there weren’t too many cars. Hopefully, most of the people would be in the gym or another section of the Y and not the pool, you thought to yourself.

Stepping out of your car, you held onto the handle as you got dusted in the face by the wind, your hair flinging all over the place. The wind was pretty bad, but the chill alone was enough for you to huddle your arms over your body before running into the building. You were starting to regret coming to the pool so late in the day, especially in October, nonetheless. At least the air smelled nice, though; there must’ve been a place nearby having a bonfire, as there was a heavy waft of burning wood.

You pulled the heavy glass door open, practically swinging it with all your might, and walked in heaving. Maybe you should be going to the gym instead of the pool – how could you be out of breath from only a short jog across the parking lot?

No matter, you walked up to the counter and paid for a day pass. You got to go in free since you’re a first-time visitor, although you felt a little guilty considering it was going to be wasted on a less than two-hour excursion. It was probably fine though – you don’t think you’d need to go to the Y again after this, anyway.

Walking through the building, you admired the decorative furniture and monotone walls contrasted with bright accent walls and signs. It had a clean, modern look and you were pretty impressed by how well-kept it was; it must’ve been hard for the janitors who worked there considering it was a pretty big community establishment. You appreciated how spotless they were able to keep it with this knowledge in mind.

Soon, you found your way to the pool after getting lost and asking a very tired-looking staff member. You almost felt bad interrupting them – their dark undereye mixed with the lighting made them look as if they were ready to be taken out back and put down. Not that you blame them – they must’ve been here for a while now. You were sure you’d look like that too if you had to work until nine at night.

As you pushed the door to the pool open, you were immediately exposed to the hot, humid air. Typical of a pool. You had to admit, though, it felt pretty good as compared to the cold breeze outside. Besides, you probably wouldn’t feel this type of heat again unless you decided to put your heater on full blast in winter. Although that would turn your room into what was practically an oven and not a fun chlorine-smelling paradise – so maybe it wasn’t the same after all.

You observed the area, your eyes immediately landing on the few kids splashing around in the middle of the pool. Great. In situations like these, you tend to sit on the side of the stairs to the pool – but that spot seemed to be occupied by a group of older men and women, so you crossed that option off. You didn’t feel like getting dragged into a conversation about retirement homes, or grandchildren, or…stuff. You weren’t really sure what the elderly chatted about.

Admitting defeat, you decided to just go sit on one of the pool chairs instead. You figured you’d just wait it out, betting that both the kids and the elderly wouldn’t stay for much longer. It was almost pitch-black outside, and seeing both children and old people at night was practically like spotting a leprechaun next to a pot of gold, you thought.

As soon as you sat and plopped your stuff down in the middle-most chair, you took in a breath and looked around. And that’s when you saw him.

You swore your heart stopped beating for a second. He was gorgeous.

Most of the men you came across on a day-to-day basis looked downright horrendous, dressed in sweats and backward caps with dumb labels like “GymRat,” so to see a fit man with a haircut that suited his looks and facial scruff that looked like it was actively trimmed was like seeing that your younger sibling didn’t pick all of the marshmallows out of your favorite cereal and eat them. A blessing, that’s what this is, you thought.

You figured he was the lifeguard, as he was sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, leaning back with one leg dangling and the other using his heel to support his placement on the seat. He had one arm lazing on the armrest, while the other held his tilted head in place as he watched the kids dash up waves of water at one another. Every once in a while, his lips would curve into an amused smile, and he’d shake his black curls out of his face, eyes not straying from the children at play. Cute, you thought.

Watching him for a while longer, you noticed three things about him:

His eyes stayed trained on the kids in the pool, not the elderly. Every once in a while, if they made a sudden movement, he’d sit up, as if he were ready to leap from the tall chair at a moment's notice.

He seemed to be pretty proud of his body, or at least his looks. His posture was confident in nature and he never covered up any part of his body with his arms.

He had a charismatic personality, or at the very least, was on good terms with the janitors. Every time they passed by, he’d quickly turn his head, see who it was, and make a comment of some sort. He always had a grin on his face as he did, and never showed a bit of discourtesy nor dislike, even if the janitor didn’t return the energy.

Of course, those weren’t the only things you noticed about him. You also noticed he had a great body. Did you mention he had a great body? He had a great body.

He didn’t even need to be shirtless for you to tell. His arms and thighs were fat with muscle, his calves fit for a marathon runner, and his chest with mounds big enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew how to flex them one at a time, as a kind of party trick.

You also could tell that he was a pretty hairy guy, not that you were complaining. You liked that in a man. You wondered what it would feel like to run your hands down his arm as his legs brushed up against the skin of–

And then he looked in your direction. He saw you. As you were at your apex of wanting to eat him alive.

Your face burned with embarrassment as his eyes met yours, and before you made a fool out of yourself, you looked away. Grabbing your phone which now felt sticky from the humidity, you pulled up the group chat, pretending to be busy.

“guys”

“there’s a rly cute lifeguard here and he caught me staring”

“im so embarrassed”

You stared at the screen for a while, waiting for your friends to respond, but none came.

Damn. Why is it that whenever you need a distraction, no one is active?

It didn’t take long after for you to give up, slinking your phone back down. You picked up a book instead, sneakily glancing up at the lifeguard once more to see if he was still looking your way. He wasn’t. His eyes were trained back on the kids, which surprisingly, made you feel a little disappointed.

You read for a while until eventually, you received a notification.

“Ada: Lol. You have a crush?”

“Ada: You should go up to him.”

The longer you considered Ada’s suggestion, the more your heart raced. You seriously considered it for a moment, but abruptly shut it down after thinking about how weird it actually might be.

“I can’t do that”

“I don’t even know what I’d say”

Ada replied almost immediately.

“Ada: Then make him want to go up to you.”

It wasn’t bad advice. You thought about it for a bit, staring at the paved concrete below your pool chair. An ant scurried on by, passing your left foot, and once it was out of sight, you snapped out of your daze and returned your head to a forward position.

Once you did, you noticed the lifeguard’s gaze on you. He was looking at you first this time.

As soon as your eyes met, he flung his head to the side, pretending to rub his neck. It was pretty awkward to watch, as his hands moved aimlessly and unpurposeful, as there was really no physical reason for him to need to touch his neck. It was easy to tell that he was only doing it to play off the fact that he was caught staring, too.

His attraction – or at the very least, interest, was mutual, then. You felt a fire of confidence rising in your chest, and you now knew how you’d get him to come up to you first.

You stood up from your chair, keeping him in your peripheral view, pretending to dust yourself off before seeing his head move back in your direction. Good, he was watching you again.

Very slowly, you began to remove the regular clothes that rested atop your bikini. Once fully stripped to your swimsuit, you made sure to fold your clothes neatly. After each article was folded, you would bend over, your behind facing his direction, placing it flatly onto the pool chair. Each time you did this, you couldn’t tell if he was looking, but you were sure that he wouldn’t have been able to resist at minimum, a glance.

Once done, you began to walk towards the water. You felt a little conscious in your stride, your step heavy, but also determined to play it cool. When approaching the stairs of the pool, you grabbed onto the accompanying handlebar, creating a divide in the water as you were further submerged. You passed the elderly group, and once they thought you were out of earshot, one exclaimed, “I wish I still had a young body like that.” The others chuckled, agreeing with the notion. You blushed and continued your journey to an empty spot in the pool.

Wading through the water, you then came up near the area where the kids were playing. You went to the side opposite the lifeguard’s chair and leaned against the wall. It was a little noisy – no, very noisy being near the kids. On top of that, you were occasionally hit with splatters of water every time they tried to mimic professional swimmers, but at least your plan was working. You think.

You weren’t really sure because you were too scared to look back up at the lifeguard. But that’s OK. All girlbosses have their weak moments.

While lost in thought trying to figure out your next step on alluring the lifeguard (as, for some reason, he wasn’t already proposing marriage and offering a bride-dowry to your parents consisting of 400 sheep, 200 goats, fifty pieces of silver, a years’ worth of unleavened bread, and seven years’ labor), you noticed two children playing roughly, one a bone-thin blonde, and the other a brunette missing one of his front teeth.

The blonde child was in a small floaty, laughing as his friend tried to swim under the tube and get inside of it with him. Every time he dived under the water, the boy would swerve his donut-shaped float, swimming a few inches away, laughing. This went on for a while, until eventually, the blonde boy switched his tactic and began pushing his friend’s head away from his float while under the water.

You grew concerned as you watched, knowing they were starting to get a little too carried away, and you looked around for their parents. You then spotted a couple of adults on the pool chairs near the towel rack, busy conversing about something you couldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what to do and turned your head back to the kids, and then there was a stifled thump.

Your heart started to race as the blonde boy started to look worried, noticing his friend wasn’t coming up out of the water. You noticed what was happening when the child leaned over his tube, holding his reddened elbow, freezing in place.

The toothless boy was knocked out.

The child with scrawny arms somehow managed to deal a blow hard enough for his friend to lose consciousness. He whipped his head around to get the lifeguard’s attention, desperately screaming, “Help! Help!”

The lifeguard was already halfway down the chair even before the boy started yelling. It seemed like his gaze had been so focused on the children earlier because he knew something like this was bound to happen.

The child was now sobbing, looking around for his parents, of which the whole group was now running over to see what the commotion was about.

You saw the kid whose body started to sink downwards, your heartbeat stammering in your chest.

You had to do something.

Launching yourself forward, you began to swim to the child nearby. As you did, you heard the lifeguard jump in the pool, a loud splash of water mixing in with the cries of the children’s parents.

You made it to the boy under the water first, diving straight down. Once you got a hold of him, you yanked his arm up, pulled him to your body, and positioned his behind on your arm, so that his head would immediately be above the water.

Both of you came up, and you gasped for air, blinking rapidly so that you could see. The lifeguard was right next to you, hurriedly taking the boy from your arms, rushing him toward the edge of the pool, and plopping him down on the concrete. You followed over, as did pretty much everyone at the pool, watching the lifeguard push desperately at his chest.

After a short while, which actually felt like forever, the boy gasped, throwing up the water that was in his lungs. The lifeguard helped the boy sit up a little, rubbing his back as he continued his violent coughs and sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I got’cha, bud.”

Once the brunette had finally gotten a hold of himself, he ran to his parents, who held him and began petting his head. The other parents, who seemed to all be friends, began thanking the lifeguard profusely on both the boy's and his parent’s behalf.

The lifeguard was crouched, slightly hunched over, breathing heavily, simply shaking his head to assure them it was okay. “Just doin’ my job,” he smiled despite the apparent stress on his face, “Actually, you should be thanking the kind lady over there.”

His gaze moved from the worry-stricken parents to you. “She’s the one who saved his life.”

You blushed, your eyes moving from him, then to the parents, not sure what to say. You didn’t think you did that much.

The parents came up to you and began thanking you as well, telling you how brave it was of you to dive in after the boy. You were only able to stammer out a couple of “it’s no problem’s” and “thank you’s” in return.

Soon, almost everyone left the pool, deciding they had witnessed enough of the pool for the night. Even the group of elderly packed their things and headed towards the changing room.

You too had figured it was probably time to go, forgetting your entire plan of romancing the man who had just previously given you all the credit when he was the one to bring the boy back from unconsciousness.

However, as you turned and began walking back to your stuff, the lifeguard ran up to your side, trying to get your attention. “Hey, hey.”

You turned to face him, stopping in place. “Um–yes?” you said, a little taken aback at his greeting, not expecting him to have started a conversation.

“Ah–oh,” he said, tripping on his words. “I just wanted to thank you, for saving the kid.”

You smiled at his words. “Sure,” you said. You then tilted your head, quirking a brow. “I didn’t really do much, though. You did more than me, so–”

He quickly cut you off, a tint of excitement in his voice. “No, no! If you hadn’t gotten him out, he would’ve been under even longer. Every second matters–you saved his life. I only got the water ‘outta his airway.”

You blushed a little at his enthusiasm for your act of heroism. “Well, uh, thank you–”

“You were so cool,” he said, and you swore you felt your heart explode.“Thanks,” you mumbled out, and soon enough, silence grew between the two of you. You were trying to figure out what to say back.

“Well, I should–” the lifeguard started to say, turning his body to leave. You scrambled for a response back, not wanting him to go.

“You were cool, too.” You said, your voice sounding a little wobbly. You felt your face start to grow red, your blood rising in degrees with every millisecond that passed.

The lifeguard seemed shy now, too, raising an arm behind his head, rubbing at his neck like he did earlier. “Oh–really?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out.

There was silence once more before the lifeguard laughed a little and held out his hand to you. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet ‘ya, Phelps.”

You took his hand, shaking it gently. He had a good handshake, and his hand felt huge in your own. “Phelps?” you said, not really understanding why he was referring to you as that.

“You know, Michael Phelps? The swimmer guy? Because you dove in to get the kid?”

You let out a long “ooooooh” as soon as you recognized what he was talking about, and laughed in response. “Pretty rude to call a lady Michael Phelps, dont’cha think?”

He laughed back before running his hand through his hair – which, miraculously, was able to stay dry since you were the one to reach the kid underwater. “Sorry, pretty lady. What should I call you then?”

You blushed a little upon hearing him call you “pretty lady,” a cheeky grin growing on your face. “You can call me Y/N. Or pretty lady, too. I don’t mind either.”

He laughed, shaking his head in an amused manner. He placed his hands on his hips, and tilted his head back a little, grinning. “Okay, pretty lady. How old are you? You in college?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. What about you?”

“Yep. I’m a senior. You?”

You replied, and from there, your conversation began to take off. You talked about things as small as favorite colors, to medium things like what your majors were, to big things like how many dogs were too many dogs for a person to have. You both seemed to click really well, and you had to admit, you had never met someone as easy to talk to before Carlos.

As you both started passionately debating on whether or not the pool slide was white or beige, an announcement sounded over the speakers.

“Attention guests, the YMCA will be closing in five minutes. Please make sure to gather all your things and head to the exit. Those who are still in the building after closing will be escorted outside by staff. Thank you for choosing the YMCA, and we hope to see you again soon!”

You and Carlos looked at one another, not sure what to say.

You realized then, that all this time, you’d been keeping Carlos from leaving when he probably could’ve packed up early for the night. Embarrassed, you jumped up from where you both had been sitting. At some point during your conversation (before its interruption), you both had sat at the edge of the pool, your legs resting in the water.

“Shit, I’m sorry for keeping you–” you said. “I’ll go get my things so you can leave–I’m so sorry–”

As you turned in a hurry to go get your stuff, you felt Carlos’ hand rest on your shoulder, stopping you. “Hey, hey–you’re fine, you’re fine.”

You jumped a little at the contact, your face turning red, and once you turned to face Carlos, you noticed he had realized what he had done.

You were wearing a swimsuit. You had on practically next to nothing. And he, a stranger, was touching you.

He pulled his hand back, going to rub his neck, but pausing as he began to raise it. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself now. “Uh–”

“Sorry, shit–I didn’t mean to–uh,” he stumbled. “Was that weird?”

You took in a deep breath and averted your gaze. “No. No, you’re fine.”

“Are–are you sure?” he pushed.

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m worrying. You can tell me if–”

You sighed and looked him in his eyes. “It’s fine. I liked it.”

Upon hearing the words come out of your mouth, you froze. Your frustration with his reluctance to accept your assurance must have gotten to you, as you didn’t mean to say the last part.

“You liked it?” he said. He seemed a little surprised, with a mix of something else. You weren’t quite sure what.

“Um. Yeah–yeah.” you asserted. And then there was silence again.

Unable to take the awkward tension, you cracked a joke. “I’m flattered by your desperation to keep me from leaving. Very, uh–flattering touch.”

Turns out you weren’t very good at jokes.

Nonetheless, he seemed to like it. He chuckled a little, which made your heartbeat increase in pace. He seemed to have good humor even in cringy situations. You liked that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re flattered, at least. I’d do it again if I needed to.” He smiled.

You blushed, and that’s when your mouth started to move on its own. “Then do it.”

“What?” he said, a little surprised.

“I’m on my way to leave. The building closes in…” You checked the clock on the wall. “...a minute or less. If you don’t want me to leave, then touch me again.” You looked up at him expectantly.

He paused for a minute and it was clear he was debating on what to do. You waited, watching him shift in place – going to rub his neck again, as he had been doing whenever he was nervous.

Suddenly, it was 9 P.M. and the announcement over the loudspeaker played, declaring it was closing time and all the guests who hadn’t left yet needed to begin their way on exiting the building. Your heart dropped a little, taking his lack of response before the loudspeaker’s interjection as a “no.”

You smiled weakly, taking the hint. You turned to grab your things off the pool chair and spoke. “Well, it was nice to–”

In a heartbeat, he grabbed your shoulder with a sense of determination, spinning you towards him. He placed one hand on your hip, pulling you in, before kissing you with wild passion.

You felt the roughness of his stubble first and then the softness of his lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes, kissing him back.

He was a fast kisser, constantly changing the way he sucked at your lips, alternating between tilting his head to the side so that he could press his mouth into yours, and tilting his head downwards so that he could pull your mouth while you struggled to stay connected. He was constantly desperate for more access as if he wanted to make sure you felt him all over your lips, not one spot untouched.

Your hands rested on his soaking wet shirt that clung to his skin from when he had jumped into the pool to save the kid. It felt a little cold, but you got used to it as your kiss continued.

The only thing the two of you could hear was each other’s heavy breathing, along with the smack of your lips as they collided. That was, until, the sound of the pool door opened.

Both you and Carlos separated immediately, your lips feeling cold at the sudden touch of air, missing the warmth of Carlos’ own warm lips. You did, however, still feel the tingle left from his feverish push-and-pull play.

With about a two-foot distance now between the two of you, you both looked over to see what the noise was exactly.

In walked an older woman, one you would’ve guessed was in her early 60’s. Her hair was completely gray, resting in a shaggy bun with little hairs falling out. She looked rough – and ready to go home for the night.

“H–hey, Mary. You almost done for the night?”

She eyed him suspiciously before replying. “Wouldn’t that be a damn miracle.”

She continued to go about her business, and you felt awkward watching their conversation.

Suddenly, Carlos’ head shot towards you and then back towards Mary. “Oh, uh, I was just about to escort this…young, damsel-in-distress out of the building. She didn’t know where the exit was, you see.”

You shot him a dirty look as if saying, “I know where the exit is.”

Mary didn’t seem to care. She simply took the mop out of the water in the cleaning cart and plopped it on the floor. It made an uncomfortably loud squelch sound in an otherwise silent room. “Mmm.”

Carlos grabbed your things for you, and put an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I’ve gotta maintain my status as a gentleman, so…we’ll be on our way! See ‘ya later, Mary!”

It sounded like she mumbled out an “I hope not,” but you weren’t too sure.

The two of you walked quickly to the door, and once it shut behind you, Carlos let go of your arm.

“Well, that was, uh–something?” He smiled, still holding onto your clothes and other items.

“Yeah,” you said, before looking up at him with an amused smile. “Damsel-in-distress, huh?”

He laughed and shuffled on his feet. “What, you the type that doesn’t like to be saved?”

You smirked. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You wanna find out?”

He grinned as he looked at you, raising a brow in an amused fashion. “Only because you make it sound so alluring.”

After hearing his reply, you closed in on his body, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stood on your tippy-toes, whispering in his ear as your cheek brushed against his lengthy hair and scratchy stubble. “I’ll show you every part of me that you want, but you need to take me somewhere private first.”

You pulled back, and you saw that he was grinning. It was evident in his eyes alone that he was excited, although, there was a mix of something else, too. The other kind of excitement, perhaps – it was a very lustful look.

He held out his hand, and as you took it, he led you down the hall. You both laughed a little at the situation, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was cold in the building, probably mostly because you still only had on a bikini, but you weren’t too focused on it. The warmth of Carlos’ hand and the anticipation for what you both were about to do were the main things on your mind right now.

Soon enough, Carlos pulls you into a room, and you look around, observing it. It was a locker room, although you hadn’t noticed whether it was for men, women, or unisex. You figured it didn’t matter all that much, though – it’s not likely that anyone would walk in.

Carlos twirled you around, pulling you into his chest again. He looked down at you, smiling before leaning down and kissing you.

This time, his kiss was soft and exploratory. He took his time, not making any wild moves, although still leading the pace like he did the first time he kissed you. Maybe you were a damsel-in-distress after all – it was starting to seem like you were swept up in his game with no escape.

After a while, he broke away from the kiss, looking at you with gentle eyes.

“I don’t have a key to lock the door. Someone could walk in. Is that okay?”

You laughed a little, smiling. “Let them walk in.”

He chuckled back, speaking in a soft voice as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re a bold girl, huh?”

Before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. His hands moved down your back before interlacing his fingers, keeping you pressed to him.

The kiss you shared was slow again at first, but it didn’t take long for it to pick up again. At the apex of your kiss, Carlos pulled his lips away, moving them to the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, and finally to your neck. It tickled at first due to his facial hair, and you let out a small laugh, but eventually, it started to feel really good.

He found all of the sweet spots on your neck, sucking and licking, desperate to hear the pleased moans that escaped you every time he touched you the way you liked. Once he seemed to want more, he began to travel further down your body. You smiled when he ventured over your breasts, gasped when he reached your stomach, and paused when he kissed your pelvic area.

Petting his hair, you spoke. “Carlos?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, looking up at you. He was waiting for you to give the go-ahead.

You felt a little nervous asking, but you knew it was important. “Have you been tested recently?”

He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been sexually active for a while, so I haven’t gone to get a test any time recent. The last time I did, though, there were no concerns.” He then picked up your leg, throwing it over his broad shoulder. He placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Is that okay?”

You nodded your head and returned to running your fingers through his curls. He smiled up at you and started kissing through the bottom piece of your swimsuit again.

Once he figured he had done enough teasing, he removed your leg off his shoulder, slipping the bottoms down. You stepped out of it, and he picked your leg up again, placing it in its former position on his shoulder.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy.” he said nonchalantly, placing a kiss on where the slit started.

You laughed a little, pulling his head back to look up at you. He let you do it. “And you’ve got a pretty face to look at while you eat my pretty pussy.”

He let out a small exhale of a laugh, and you felt his breath brush up against your clit. Your grip on his head shivered, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Soon enough, he was licking and kissing your soft spot. He took his time, remaining very gentle and attentive. No tremble, no shake, no quiver went unnoticed while he worked.

As you started to get closer to orgasm, you pulled him by his hair, tilting his head up at you. His eyes were half-lidded, staring up at you, his lapping at your folds unwavering.

You rubbed yourself a little more forcibly into him, grinding against his face. He seemed to like it, as he placed a hand on your hip, bringing you down even harder onto him every time you pushed up against him.

You felt yourself getting close, and the moans you had been stifling were getting hard to hold in. “Fucking god, Carlos, I’m close.” you murmured.

Carlos didn’t respond, nor speed up, he simply shut his eyes and kept the pace he had been going at. You stared down at his eyelashes, admiring how long they were as you came.

Your body shook a little, and once the high was over, you were panting, relying on Carlos to hold you up. He slowly pulled away, placing your leg back down, running his hands up your body as he stood up with you.

He held you for a moment, placing your head against his chest, and rubbing your back as you calmed down.

Once your breathing was steady, you pulled away from him, grabbing him by the shirt. His eyes widened, and he gave you an amused look.

You clung to him for a moment, before running your hands down his body as you got onto your knees in front of him.

Panicked, he took your hands off him and held them gently. “Hey, hey– you don’t have to–”

You looked up at him, still panting a little. “I’m paying you back.”

He shook his head, and then let go of one of your hands to caress your face. “Nah. Not this time. You can pay me back another time. After all, if I let you pay me back now, you might just run away and I won’t get to see you again.”

He smiled down at you as he said it, and you blushed a little when you realized he said not this time. That meant that there would be other times.

He then helped you up to your feet and kissed you again. It was a gentle kiss, but after your last orgasm, you were feeling needy for something faster.

You took the lead from him, kissing him as aggressively as you could to show that you were ready for him to be a little more rough with you. He seemed to get the hint but pulled away from the kiss.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, seeming a little downcast at the thought.

You smiled at him, your arms now around his neck. “I do.”

He perked up a little and smirked at you. “You’re a little too prepared for a damsel-in-distress, aren’t you?”

You laughed and replied as you went to get the condom from your purse. “I’d say I’m just the right amount of prepared.”

As you walked back over to him with the condom, he pulled you in and started kissing your neck once more. He moved from up, down, up, down, then up again before whispering in your ear. “Think you’re prepared enough to put it on me?”

You laughed at his smooth words, and you whispered back. “What, you don’t know how to put one on yourself?”

He chuckled, and pulled away, taking the condom as you handed it to him. He tore it open using his teeth, staring down at you as he did it. Once it was open, you made a smart remark. “You know you’re not supposed to use your teeth to get it out, right?”

He chuckled, placing the wrapper and condom in his palm. He made a closed fist and went to remove his clothes. You admired his body as he did – and in regards to your earlier comment about him being a hairy man, you were right. He had just the right amount of chest hair, as well as a happy trail stemming from his trimmed pubic area. “Guess you were right – I don’t know how to put one on, after all.”

You laughed, watching him slide the thin condom onto his shaft. He was pretty big – you were a little worried about being able to fit all of him in.

Once he was certain the condom was on well, he looked over at you before picking you up in a rush. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your head in his neck. After a couple of seconds, you felt the cold wall against your back, and arched into him a little, trying to escape from the freezing touch.

He made a hmm noise that sounded amused at your squirming and then began pecking little kisses on your neck. You slowly eased back against the wall, getting used to the cold.

Once you did, Carlos began to press his body into you. You could tell Carlos enjoyed getting as much skin-on-skin as he could when intimate because he was always somehow buried in your touch.

His hips ground his cock into your stomach, humping you slowly as he continued to suck your neck. You were starting to get a little impatient now, wanting him inside you already, and so the next time he ground into you, you ground back.

He didn’t seem to be expecting it, as he let out a throaty, closed-mouth moan. He got the hint, though, as he pulled back a little, and propped himself at your entrance.

Slowly, he lowered you down onto his cock. He inserted the head first, watching your expression to see if it was okay. You winced a little, and he noticed.

Whispering, he tried to encourage you while he eased into you. “You’re doing good, Y/N. Most damsels-in-distress would’ve given up by now.”

You laughed, feeling him sink into you more. He smiled, watching your face as you adjusted. “Want me to make some noise for you?” he said, lowering his voice.

You nodded your head, interested in what noises he was going to make.

He placed his head on your shoulder, beginning to make subtle grunts and moans the more his cock delved into you.

You started to get a little more wet from hearing his voice, turned on by the presumable pleasure he was feeling as he moved in deeper and deeper. Eventually, he was fully in, and you were more than ready to get started.

You tapped his shoulder, insinuating that you were good to go. He picked his head up from your collarbone, then pressed his forehead against yours as he began to pull out, then push back in.

Both of you gasped silently, gripping one another as a way to express how good it felt. He continued to move, alternating the way he did it, going from rolling his hips in a continuous rhythm to jerkily bucking into you. Carlos was proving to be a spontaneous lover, and you had to admit, you enjoyed being kept on your toes.

Eventually, things started to pick up, and Carlos was now thrusting into you with a feverish desire. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, hearing his heavy breathing every time he pulled away for air. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he came, and so you decided that you would start making your way to orgasm as well.

One of your arms reached down to your clit, and you began to rub yourself while Carlos buried himself in you. He pulled away from the kiss with a pop, which actually wasn’t as audible, since it was drowned out by the sound of both of your breathing, moaning, and collision of skin.

He buried his head into your neck, a slur of whines, grunts, and moans escaping his lips.

You listened to his voice, closing your eyes, and focusing on reaching your climax. It didn’t take long after he caught on that you were right there, and whispered in your ear, “Do it. Cum on me. Cum on my cock.”

As you came down from your high, you trembled in Carlos’ arms. You noticed he was starting to become shaky himself, and you were a little worried as you felt his hands wobble underneath your bottom. It was likely that his arms were getting tired from holding you up for a prolonged amount of time.

You pulled his head in close, whispering in his ear. As you did, you heard his breath hitch, panting as if he were desperate for air. “Carlos,” you said, “Let me help you cum. What do you need?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a moan came out at first. “My back…scratch up my back.”

You listened to what he asked, digging your nails into his skin, softly at first, and then a little more rough once you felt him shiver. He seemed to like it a lot.

He continued, which surprised you a little. You thought he would’ve stopped at his one request, but he didn’t. He must’ve been a needy man. “Kiss my neck,” he huffed, “please, Y/N.”

You followed what he asked, kissing on his neck as you clawed up the muscles on his back. It didn’t take much longer after that, and soon enough his entire body was trembling. He thrust a couple more times into you, grunting as he did, and you felt his cock jerk as he spilled his warm seed into the condom.

As soon as he came, his hands lost most of their grip on holding you, and you unwrapped your legs around his waist, jumping down. You felt him press into you, heaving as if he weren’t getting any air. You smiled and decided to comfort him as he did for you earlier after eating you out.

Pulling him into an embrace, you felt his head rest against the wall, trying to reach your shoulder, but failing as he was too tall. You chuckled and began to rub his back, talking to him in an endearing tone. “You good, Carlos?”

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good.” he huffed, and soon after his response, he pulled back, standing straight as he looked down at you.

“So, was it good? For you, I mean.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

You laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “It was really good. The best I’ve ever had, I’d say.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and kissing it, “It was good for me, too. Turns out I really like saving damsels-in-distress. Who knew, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. The two of you then continued your back-and-forth witty remarks, while agreeing on going to wash yourselves off quickly in the showers that were a part of the locker room you just had sex in. As you both bathed in separate stalls, you continued to talk, practically yelling over the bustling of the shower head as the water fell.You hoped no one was nearby outside, because it was likely they would have heard you.

Once finished, the two of you got dressed and grabbed your stuff. Luckily enough, the locker room that you went into was the men’s, so Carlos was able to grab his things from the locker he usually uses when on lifeguard duty.

The two of you then walked out of the building together, acting like a newlywed couple. You teased one another, laughing and joking around as you had the entire night.

Once outside, feeling the chill on your skin, you both paused, not sure where to go from there. You both didn’t really want to go your separate ways.

You desperately wanted to ask for his number, but you weren’t sure how to do so in a witty and playful way. You didn’t want to ask outright, because for some reason, even after all you just did, you worried it would come off as desperate. Even though you were desperate.

You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by Carlos. “Hey, so, if it’s alright with you–you wouldn’t mind me asking for your number, would you?”

You giggled, happy that he was thinking of the same thing. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. I was just thinking of asking the same thing.”

Carlos smiled, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers. “Make sure to give me a cutesy name and contact photo.” He said playfully grinning at you.

And that gave you an idea. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture right now? That way we both get to have a cute contact photo.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair, and then let you hold your phone up, ready to take the picture.

“Cheese!” you exclaimed, and he laughed as you pressed the camera button.

After taking the photo, you sent it to him straight away. The two of you then realized it was getting late, and you couldn’t drag your time on with one another any longer. You said your goodbyes, and both went in different directions to get into your cars.

As soon as you got into your car, you started it and began to think about your night. Your cheeks blushed, and you immediately grabbed your phone. You had to tell your friends what happened.

Unsurprisingly, they all freaked out on you, exclaiming how they were wondering where you went. You laughed a little, typing out a quick summary. After hitting send, one of your friends began to ask strange questions.

“Jill: Wait, what does he look like?”

Puzzled, you typed out a relatively simple description. After a couple of minutes, your friend responded.

“Jill: Wtf I think I know him”

“Jill: He’s in my science class???”

“Jill: Dude sucks at science lmao”

You were a little taken aback by the revelation of Jill knowing Carlos, although you were a little more shocked at him sucking at science. He seemed like a science-y kinda guy.

As you continued to chat with your friends, you got a notification from Carlos. Your heartbeat quickened, and you wondered what he had to say so soon.

Upon opening the notification, you saw that what he had sent was a screenshot of your contact name and profile picture in his phone – it was the selfie the two of you took, along with the name “Damsel.”

You reply with your own screenshot, which also used the selfie the two of you took, while his name was set to “Phelps.” It didn’t take long for him to reply,

“Phelps: Hey, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to call a gentleman Phelps?”

You laughed out loud, and could already tell you’d be spending the rest of your night talking with Carlos.

Oh well. The night was still young.

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

#carlos oliveira #carlos resident evil #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira fluff #resident evil smut #resident evil fluff #resident evil #resident evil oneshot #kinktober 23 #kinktober #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #instalove #pool boy #re3 remake #size difference #re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #smut

143 notes · View notes

mellowsadistic · 1 year

Text

Tiffany finished putting on her business suit and hurried down the stairs. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when she saw her boyfriend sitting in the kitchen, still in his dressing gown. But she couldn’t complain really, she knew. He worked from home, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t make good money. In fact, more than once he’d suggested she quit her job and be a stay-at-home girlfriend. Tiffany wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very thought. She was a career woman, not some dumb housewife! No matter how much she loved her boyfriend, she couldn’t stand the thought of being dependent on him like that.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and hastily drank the morning coffee he’d made for her. It tasted a little funny, but she was grateful all the same. Usually she had to stop off at Starbucks on the way to work for her caffeine fix. In fact, now that she thought about it, it was odd for her boyfriend to be up so early at all, especially since they’d been up late last night for Halloween. Most of the time he went right back to sleep after she got out of bed, after cuddling her tightly and preventing her from getting up for at least five minutes every morning. Maybe he was finally developing a proper work ethic… She drained her cup and headed over to the front door.

“Where are you going, little lady?” her boyfriend asked in a bright, syrupy voice.

“What?” Tiffany replied, bristling a little at his tone as she fumbled with her coat. Little lady? She’d have to have a word with him about his condescending attitude when she got home that night. Or at the weekend. Or whenever she had some free time. “I’m going to work, obviously.”

“Silly girl,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Halloween’s over, baby. It’s time to take off your costume.”

Tiffany turned around, looking irritated. “What are you talking about?” Then she blinked. She suddenly felt very dizzy. She looked down at her clothes, at her professional linen suit. Charcoal grey, with a white shirt beneath. That wasn’t a costume. Was it? Her head felt strange and tingly, and she had to put out a hand to balance herself against the wall. Her coat dropped to the floor. What was the matter with her?! She glanced sharply at the empty coffee mug. No. Daddy wouldn’t do that. She must just have low blood sugar or something... Then she blushed hotly. Daddy? Where had that come from?!

“What have…” she mumbled, her words coming out slurred. “What you… done?”

“It’s alright, baby,” her boyfriend sad gently, walking over and holding her steady. “I’ve got you. I think you’re a bit confused, sweetie. This is just a costume, remember?” He brushed his hands over her suit jacket. “You dressed as a big girl for Halloween. A big, smart businesswoman. But it was just a costume.”

“Nooo…” Tiffany groaned. She hadn’t even dressed up for Halloween, had she? Didn’t she think that was stupid? Her head felt so funny, but she could tell something was very wrong here. “Dat’s not… That’s not pwetend!”

“Yes it is, little one,” said her boyfriend, more firmly. “You don’t really go to work, Tiffy. You’re far too sweet and silly for that, remember? You’re just a baby.”

“Baby?” Tiffany echoed, stupidly. Why did her mind feel so foggy? “Nu… Nu-uh! Notta baby! I’m a big giwl!” She glared at her boyfriend. “You… You doing somefing to me!”

“Tiffy,” he said warningly, “Daddy says it’s time to take off your costume. No more playing pretend now. Do you need a smacked bottom, baby girl?”

Tiffany whined. She shook her head. This wasn’t right!

“Then go upstairs and change into your normal clothes,” said Daddy. “They’re in the spare bedroom. Off you go.”

He patted her on her bum to send her on her way, and Tiffany found herself heading back upstairs obediently. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she ought to put up a struggle. She ought to resist. But it was so hard to think properly, and she didn’t want to get a spanking. She walked down the hall and into the spare bedroom. When she saw what was laid out for her on the bed, her face reddened and she let out another whine. But she knew better than to disobey Daddy.

She started with her suit pants first, stripping them off and folding them neatly on the bed. Her big girl underwear went next, and she couldn’t help pouting as her panties dropped to her ankles, never to go up again. She sat her bottom on the thick nappy that lay on the bed and taped it up around herself snugly. Then she stood up, the bulky diaper crinkling noisily between her legs, slipped off her suit jacket, and started unbuttoning her grown-up shirt. Her bra followed quickly, then her shoes and socks, and soon Tiffany was nude but for her nappy. Fully dressed for the day. She felt a bit better after that. She’d done what Daddy told her to do. She smiled. What a good girl she was. The tingles in her head were growing stronger, becoming more and more powerful, and with them came a rush of pleasure inside her skull. Her nappy felt right, even if it was embarrassing. That must be what she normally wore, not the boring old grown-up costume on the bed.

Then Tiffany suddenly became aware of a pressure in her bladder and her bottom. She frowned, thinking hard for a few moments before she remembered what it meant. She had to go potty! She took half a step towards the door, towards the bathroom, before she stopped herself. Because she was being stupid. She was just a sweet, silly baby. She didn't know how to use the potty! Giggling at her own silliness, Tiffany squatted down and started doing her morning poo-poo in her pants, just like she did every day. She did a big pee-pee too, filling her oversized baby pants to the brim with tinkle.

Once she was done, she straightened up, grinning broadly, and waddled off to find her Daddy again, Pampers jiggling between her thighs. She wasn't after a diaper change of course, because she knew it was up to Daddy when she got a clean nappy. No, she’d forgotten to give him his morning blowjob! She was such a little dumb-dumb! How could she forget her only job? Then after that Daddy would feed her breakfast, and they’d have a nice, long cuddle, followed by a full day of playtime. She couldn’t wait!

#mellowsadistic

455 notes · View notes

bubblessunshinehoney · 1 year

Text

Big Fan (part4)

chapter 4: he's back, there's shyness and eagerness for the both of you, and pancakes, there's pancakes.

don't be shy, reblog, comment, like!

Enjoy, Cloudy

not beta read, english is not my first language. all mistakes are my own

tw: none, fluff, they are a warning... bucky and reader, just...ugh, so cute.

serie masterlist

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

If you don't want to miss any udpate, go follow my sideblog: @cloudysideblog

🥰🌷

Two weeks, it’s been already two weeks since you’ve almost got your date with Bucky. And since that morning he was MIA.

You knew his job made him unable to text or call you, but still…you were anxious and missing him. You found yourself looking at your phone way too much and you couldn’t sleep right at night.

I just hope he’s okay…

On the start of the third week, since you last saw him, he texted you.

From Bucky:

Hiya doll, I’m back. I know it’s not the weekend, and its like…3pm but, are you free?

From Y/N:

Hey cowboy! I can make banana pancakes for 4pm! Come whenever you want. I’m home.

You didn’t care if you were too eager in your text, he seemed too. And you just wanted to see him to make sure he was okay.

You started to clean your all flat and baked the pancakes, then you realise, you didn’t have coffee…

“Shit, shit, shit…”

And this was the moment your doorbell rang.

“I’m coming!”

You opened the door, and here he was, standing, in front of you, no bruises. Well, none that you could see. He looked tired, more beard too, but you won’t complain, he was beautiful.

“I don’t have any coffee left”, was all you could say, while looking at him. He chuckled and kissed your foreheand.

“Hi Y/N”.

“Sorry, I panicked, Hi Bucky, how are you? “you stroked his cheek, feeling him leaning into your touch.

“I’m tired, but okay, doll. How are you?”

“I’m glad you’re back”.

Your brain had decided to speak your inner thoughts a bit too much today, but the smile that came on his face, didn’t make you regret what you just said.

You invited him inside and let him take place on your couch. He looked around him with a small smile.

“This flat is totally you”, he said. “Warm, inviting and calm”.

You giggled and blushed. “I…why thank you”. “Do you want coffee or tea is okay? I can go to the market down my street if you want coffee…”

“Tea and pancakes will be perfect, doll, it smells delicious”.

“okay, perfect, I’ll go make it and then you can join me at the dining table!”

He smiled bigger and got up to follow you. “I’ll help you, I feel bad to interrupted your day”.

“You didn’t, I wasn’t doing anything. I took today’s off, I felt under the weather.”

He held your wrist to make you look at him. “Are you okay?”

You nodded “Just didn’t sleep well, I’ve been a bit anxious.”

“Why?”, he asked, and you looked down, a bit shy to let him know because it was about him. “Doll? Why, how can I help?”

You looked at him and pouted. “Text me at least once, next time you’re on a mission? Please? But I know you and I…we are just like a little something, nothing serious, we didn’t even kiss. But I like you, the little time I spent with you I really liked it, and you just went missing for almost three weeks and I thought maybe you didn’t want anything to do with me in the end…sorry.”

Bucky dragged you in his arms and he held you tight. “I didn’t know if I could text you. I hesitated so many times. I’m the one who needs to be sorry.”

You chuckled sadly “dammit, we sound like these bad romantics movies with all the miscommunications.”

He held you more and slowly back out, looking into your eyes. “No more miscommunications then. I will text you next time and we are not a little something in my eyes, I’m just old fashioned and I was waiting for the proper date to kiss you… but I guess now could be a good time.”

You smiled and nodded, “I think it is a very good time to kiss me”.

He closed the gap between you and kissed you softly, his lips were soft, and his beard was tickling you in the right places. You held his waist and got closer.

When he stopped, you leaned for more, he smiled and kissed you again. After a few minutes, he said against your lips. “So what about these tea and pancakes, I’m starving”

You laughed and pecked his lips, “come on, you’ll help me settle the table!”

THEY KISSED WHOHOOOOO

If you don't want to miss any udpate, go follow my sideblog: @cloudysideblog

138 notes · View notes

soleilceirinen · 8 months

Text

Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 6

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! Part 5 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 7

Unlike most people, you liked Mondays. To you, it meant the beginning of a new week, a reset. But this Monday was different and so far, you hated every second of it.

After your kiss with Cillian last Friday, you decided not to go further that night so he drove you to your flat. Once there, you said goodbye with a bunch of tiny kisses and the promise to talk later but it never happened.

You had spent the weekend staring at your phone, waiting for a reply to the text you had sent him. It just said “Good morning!” and a flushed emoji but he never answered. So, considering his lack of response, you sent him an email with your project progress, to which he didn’t reply either.

And now, you had been sitting in the classroom for forty minutes while listening to him talk about Margaret of Austria’s portrait collection. Forty minutes in which he didn’t look at your direction at all, as if you were invisible.

You continued taking notes until the end of the lecture, breaking the paper sheet a couple times due to the pressure with which you were writing. When the other students had left the classroom, you walked to his desk to confront him.

“Good morning, Cillian.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the papers and books scattered around his desk when he answered you.

“Mr. Murphy is the proper way to address me, miss Y/L/N. Can I help you with something?”

You looked at him in disbelief.

“Well, I texted you and you never said anything back, I was worried,” you admitted. He just shrugged dismissively.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, Mr. Murphy,” you said bitterly, “I also sent you a few new pages of the project so you could review them and give me some feedback.”

Cillian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“I looked over it, it’s okay but be careful with the paragraphs and the structure. If you need something else, my tutoring sessions are Tuesdays at 11 a.m. and Thursdays at 18 p.m., you can find me at my office.” He looked at you briefly, before saying “Have a nice day, miss Y/L/N.”

You didn't know how to react to his sudden coldness so you frowned and left the classroom with the ghost of tears stinging your eyes.

The rest of the week went by the same way, with Cillian ignoring you and only addressing you to make a comment about your project. As far as you were concerned, you had no idea what could have caused that change in his attitude but it made you feel quite miserable, just to think of what could have been and wasn’t.

After a long morning of lectures you were finally free to go and have lunch. You and Olivia had met to eat at a Japanese restaurant near the university. Once seated at your table, you noticed that she was quieter than usual.

“So, how is everything going for you?” you asked. “Are you still seeing that guy, the artist?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No way. At least not after he painted my pussy on a 120 x 160 canvas and displayed it for everyone to see.”

“Well, I can tell you something, it was sold” you comforted her. “By the way, I thought you knew which part of you he was painting.”

Olivia groaned and hid her face in her arms.

“He never told me, said it was a surprise. His favourite part of me, you know” she added, rolling her big eyes. “But let’s talk about something else, what about you? You look sad.”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing, I’m a bit overwhelmed with my final project but…” You stopped talking when you saw a group of people sit a couple of tables away.

They were teachers, you realised since some of them had taught you in recent years, plus Cillian was among them. He also noticed your presence, you caught him looking at you but he immediately looked away. Olivia looked at you with half closed eyes and then she turned around to look at the teacher’s table. You grabbed her arm to make her stop.

“Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” she asked suspiciously while you tried to hide the fact that you were starting to blush.

“That’s my final project tutor” you whispered. “Don’t look!”

Olivia made a face of annoyance at you. “If I can’t look, how am I supposed to know which one is your tutor? I’ll just take a little look, they won’t notice, I promise Y/N”, she assured.

You nodded slightly, accepting the fact that they would notice anyway. “Okay. It’s the guy with blue eyes.”

After a failed, as expected, attempt to be subtle, Olivia focused again on you leaning on the table so that nobody else but you could hear her. “He’s handsome but he looks like he’s sucking on a lemon.”

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding choking on your soda.

“Olivia!”

She giggled with you, satisfied with herself.

“At least I made you smile.”

The rest of the meal was uneventful, just you and Olivia catching up. It had been a long time since you had such a good time with your friend like this but sadly, it had to end. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get on time to work. Olivia led the way to the door, taking the opportunity to look closely at Cillian as she passed their table. You followed her, nodding in his direction as you walked past him.

“Y/N”

You turned around slowly. Cillian was about to get up from the table, some of the teachers looked at you with curiosity and others with recognition. You smiled at them politely.

“What is it, Mr. Murphy?”

“I need to talk to you”, he said. You wanted to slap him in the face, right on his stupidly perfect cheekbones. You felt your blood boiling with his audacity after ignoring you for a whole week

“I’m sure it can wait until Monday, or you can send me an email. It’s very simple but I guess it’s up to you. Goodbye Mr. Murphy, have a nice weekend everyone.”

Later, you were sitting at the art gallery office with your final project opened on your laptop. On calm days like that, you used to take the opportunity and study. Maureen and Laura didn’t care about it.

A knock on the door made you take your eyes away from the laptop screen. There was Maureen, with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun while holding a plastic bag.

“Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m fine, everything is quiet here. I was trying to write some more of my research but I think I’ll give up for today. What about you?”

She took a seat next to you and started searching for something in the bag while talking.

“Don't get saturated, sometimes it is better to let a few days pass and return to the project with more energy and inspiration.”

You nodded in agreement. Then, Maureen took out a small photo album and started flipping through all the pages.

“We want to make a video for the wedding with photos of us from when we were children and teenagers, you know, until we met. So yesterday I spent all day going through photo albums and came across this, I thought you might like to see it.”

She held a polaroid in front of you. Carefully, you took it and examined it in detail. In a handwriting that you recognised as Maureen’s, it said Summer ‘99. It wasn’t difficult to tell who they were since they looked the same, but younger.

“It’s you and Cillian” you stated.

“We took that picture the summer after we graduated from university, we were about your age there.”

“So, you and him know each other really well or just as former classmates?” you wondered, still looking at the polaroid. She sighed.

“We are very close, even though he likes to disappear from time to time.” She took out another picture and gave it to you, putting the other one back in the album. “You can keep that one, since you see Cill more than I do, you should have a chance to give it to him. It could bring back good memories, right?”

You stared at the polaroid and nodded absentminded. From the corner of your eyes you saw Maureen get up after hearing Laura call her from the gallery, she gave you a little squeeze in the shoulder before disappearing.

In the photograph was a young Cillian smiling from ear to ear, with messy hair and a sunburnt face, which surely would explain the amount of freckles he had now. Also, the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners was still the same, although more accentuated with the years.

Despite all that had happened, you couldn’t help but feel a certain nostalgia.

A sound coming from your laptop made you look, there was a new message from Cillian. He wanted to meet you in his office on Monday afternoon. Your answer was concise, just to let him know that you would be there.

Only then you were aware of the knot that had formed in your stomach. You were hoping for things to develop smoothly and go back to normal, as they were before that week. But just like it happened with your roommate Brad, deep inside you had the suspicion that what Cillian had to say wasn't good news.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #teacher x student #reader insert #fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #alternate universe

48 notes · View notes

melonba11s · 11 months

Text

Playing along (Strade/Fem MC fic)

A sort of revamp of an old drabble, now a proper longform fic! I hope you all enjoy it!

I have a bit of an epilogue planned that I hope I can type up soon!

Contains: Strade, Ren, Female MC, Canon Typical Violence.

One more person in front of him. He watched as they dumped a pile of random items onto the counter.

"Hi! How are you?!" that voice, picked up by several pitches, ringing with syrupy sweetness. Eyes bright with near manic alertness, smile stretched as far as it could be. All the motions were completely unnatural, all of them working on the man she was helping.

Her energy bounced off the walls as she made small talk, letting out a little laugh at the man's lame joke. She was deftly quick with her job. Items scanned in successive order, fingers tapping the screen with barely a glance, piled into a bag and given along with the receipt.

"there you go! You have a good day now!" she waves him off then turns, aiming that beam of bright sunny smiles at him. Then the recognition flashes in her eyes.

"Oh, Hey Strade!" Shoulders relax, she hunches over to lean against the counter, eyes meeting his. So easily she stripped off her lies the moment he appeared.

"Hey, buddy! Working hard as usual?" he liked her. This side of her at least. The one that didn't feel the need to wrap herself in a sweet candy wrapper.

"oh you know it." she rolled her eyes, a gesture she'd never make with another customer. She carefully gathers his items into a neat row, taking her time. There was no rushing to get him in and out, she wanted to extend the time they had together as much as she could.

It had been several weeks before he first stopped in for a simple jug of milk, it was a bit of a ways away from his neighborhood but he had been out anyway. And just as she did with all the other customers she had blasted him nearly off his feet with her cheeriness. Something about it made him want to peel her open, expose her core, so he returned. He made small talk, got her to open up.

Watching that simpering and ass kissing attitude morph into the person she really was. And realizing something else. The way her eyes truly lit up when she saw him, how if she noticed him before he came to check out how her eyes would follow him, the way her cheeks would glow if he complimented her. He could tell easily when someone was smitten.

So he played into it. He asked her about her hobbies, her friends, her family. He asked her about her job.

“This store’s in kind of a dangerous area, I hope your camera system is good!” he had once said, slapping the cover of a nearby newspaper, who’s headline mentioned a violent crime in the area. Her expression furrowed slightly.

“Uh, listen. You know those signs we have? “Smile, you’re on camera!”?... They’re just there for show. We actually don’t have a security system. Company says we aren’t high priority enough for one.” She shrugged sadly. She didn’t notice the glint in Strades eyes at what luck he had. No cameras, no evidence.

"oh, you know what? I better get a lottery ticket." Strade said, bringing himself back to the present. He leaned across the counter to hand her the cash.

"Make sure it's a winning ticket." he said with a wink. A joke she no doubt heard hundreds of times, one that made her smile flicker for just a moment when someone else told the same joke.

She laughed though, he could get away with it.

"So Buddy, any big plans for your weekend?" he asked, watching her make her way to the lottery terminal.

"Uh, not really. I actually have the weekend off for the first time in ages... I may just spend it resting."

An opportunity. Blood in the water. Strade raised an eyebrow, his fingers curling on the counter. She was planning for a weekend watching those romance movies she had admitted she had an addiction to, dreaming of a man to come by and sweep her off her feet. Perhaps it would happen in a more literal sense…

"you know what? I got a lot of free time too." he mused, as she handed him his lottery ticket.

"So. Saturday night, let's go out and have a drink then?" he watched in delight as her eyes went wide with shock, her entire face turning bright red.

"w-wha???... drinks with... you?" she stammered, frozen stiff.

"Well of course, on me... go ahead and write your number on this ticket here... Then maybe we'll both be lucky" he slid the ticket towards her, smiling. If she had not been so innocent, unaware of the world, she would have ran the moment he bared his teeth.

Instead, with a shaking hand, she got out a pen and hastily scribbled her number down.

"D-drinks... yeah I'd... like that... I'll see you Saturday." she was curling a finger in her hair now, looking away in a shy manner but with a goofy smile on her face.

The trap was set, the bait planted. Strade let out a chuckle, pocketing the little piece of paper.

"I look forward to really getting to know you." he waved, heading out the door. As he got into his car, he settled his hands on the wheel, taking in a deep breath.

He didn’t usually play such a long game like this, spending time with a target before he finally brought them down. He was too impatient for that, he could usually pick out someone at the bar and get them into his car with close to no hassle.

When he first met her he hadn’t even considered her as an option. But seeing her little crush on him had piqued his interest. Then he had learned that her family lived hours away. Learned about the lack of security cameras on the premise.

Learned about how lonely she was, how on a day when she had been down, how she had admitted that she didn’t really feel like anyone would ever be interested in her. Not like that.

She had quickly apologized and asked him to forget she said anything afterwards, stating “oh no, I’m on the clock I can’t be venting like this to a customer!”.

He hadn’t forgotten though, he had tucked that bit of info away with the rest of things he knew about her.

He just needed to wait a little longer… He was really interested in how different the reactions would be from her if he tore off those rose colored glasses at the very last second. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he got an idea. It almost took too long to pull into his house.

“Ren.” He said, handing the fox the bar of chocolate he got him. Ren was curled up on the couch, attention held by the TV. One of his cartoons.

“Yeah, Strade?” Ren’s ears were flattened, probably expecting to be dragged into the basement. He knew a bit about Strades current target, it wouldn’t be out of the question for Strade to grow impatient and need to take out some of his urges on Ren.

Not tonight though. He simply leaned over the couch, squinting.

“Do you know any good romance movies?” he kept his tone light, simple. Ren’s expression morphed into confusion, then thinking. Then he nodded, a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

“Good.” Strade clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Need to do some er… Research.” He turned to go grab himself a beer from the kitchen.

“... Is this for the girl you met? The one you want too… you know. Bring over?” Strade gave a grunt in response, jerking his head in a nod.

“... You’re trying to impress her aren’t you? Woo her? Why? You could just grab her and drag her like the others.”

He really could. It would be so easy too. Ren was right.

“Not this time, Fuchs.” he said with a sigh, pushing that idea out of his mind. “I want to try something different. Play along with her little fantasies, see what happens when I tear the mask off at the last moment.”

Ren made a small “mmm” noise, going back to his show. It was shaping up to be an interesting Thursday night. He should probably text her in a few hours, and let her know where they should meet. Two days until Saturday. He could make himself wait that much longer.

~~~~

Strade waited patiently at his favorite bar, The Braying Mule. It was his usual hunting grounds, the staff never paid any attention, they never even ID’d for alcohol. No way for anyone to accidentally remember someone's name or face based on a little photo. The only camera they had faced the lone register, not any of the tables or door. It was such a perfect place.

“H-Hi Strade.” Her voice was a small squeak from behind. Strade turned around to face her. He had only ever seen her at work, so he half expected to see her still in uniform, hair up, looking tired.

He was pleasantly surprised. Plain light wash jeans, a cream colored sweatshirt, hair down. A casual look, but nice enough for a first date. He didn’t miss how low cut her sweatshirt was, and raked his eyes over her form for a moment, before looking back at her face. She was very red in the face, and looked ready to break into a sweat.

“Come on, sit down! Don’t be so nervous!” he let out a laugh, before remembering a move from one of those movies. He sat up, a bit too quickly to be natural, and pulled the chair out harshly. It made a grating sound against the floor that made him wince.

As clumsy as his gesture was though, it got the reaction he wanted. Her eyes were practically sparkling as she took a seat, staring at him.

He ordered a round of drinks, making sure to ask her what she liked. Vodka Soda, with a cherry added. Painfully sweet, easy drinking. He had his usual beer.

He followed his perfectly crafted script as the night wore on, leaning in to listen to her, brushing a hand across hers, tilting his head. She wasn’t used to this, she must have been being truthful when she said she couldn’t imagine someone wanting to date her.

“Listen, uh…” she finally said, her cheeks a little flushed. She had only had a few drinks, so she couldn’t be that drunk. Just a little buzzed.

“I… I don’t want you to think I’m… that sorta woman. Loose, but…” her eyes flickered away. “Could I… come home with you?” The moment the words left her mouth she was hiding her face in her hands. How cute. He wouldn’t even have to tempt her to come home with him. Just a bit longer now.

“You know… I think I’d really like that.” he reached out, placing a hand on top of hers. “Wait near the door, I’m gonna go pay, alright?”

The excitement in the air from him was tangible, he was surprised the cashier didn’t explode from how volatile it was. As he rejoined her, she was bold enough to take his hand in hers. Strade did his best to keep his smile relaxed, eyes half lidded, as much as he wanted to tug her along, scare her, force her into the car.

“Aah.” Shit. His car. The lack of handles on the inside. Not usually an issue. Until now. He needed to think of something…

“Is something wrong?” she asked, looking at him with mild concern.

“Well… My car, see, I got it second hand if I’m honest. The previous guy who had it had the inside door handles on the passenger side removed.” He braced himself for the shock on her face, for her to pull away. It never came. Instead, she laughed.

“What a weirdo!! Why would he do that?” She trusted him so much. She was so naive. Strade laughed too, for an entirely different reason.

“I have no idea, if he was a criminal he made a mistake selling it. Think of how much evidence he’d given away.” Strade rolled his eyes, opening the passenger side door for her.

“It’s a really nice car too, what did you say you do for a living?” Strade closed the door on her, and walked over to the driver's side before answering.

“Aah, I actually make content. On the internet. Mostly for other people who are into tools, knives and all the interesting things you can do with them.”

“Oh, so you build things?” He wondered how she came to that conclusion.

“Eeh, More of, I test their limits in extreme situations.” He pressed on the gas, thinking of a bullshit example. “Like if an advertised waterproof drill can still work after being frozen in a block of ice.”

“You’ll have to show me it sometime! That sounds like it’s fun.” Strade glanced at her, coming to a slow easy stop at a traffic light.

“Maybe you could star in one of my videos sometime, I bet you’d like being in on the fun~” He gave her a cheeky grin, watching her blush yet again. She was so easy.

The conversation during the ride home was easily kept up, Strade didn’t need to think up any more lies or half truths to tell. She was getting more quiet the closer they got to his place, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweater as they pulled into the driveway.

Just a bit longer, play along a bit longer. He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her over the stick shift and into his lap. A move that went a lot smoother in that one movie, he had forgotten its name. She gave a small “eep!” as she banged her knee against the cup holder, looking absolutely shocked as she was suddenly face to face with him.

“What, never been in a guy's lap before?” he asked, teasingly. She shook her head very quickly.

“N-No I… There’s a lot of stuff I’ve never done, I-” he let her continue to stutter, raising a hand to her face. He remembered holding Ren down under him to practice for this, though he didn’t really care if he was that good.

He pulled her closer in, watching her close her eyes as their lips met. He supposed he should close his eyes too, but he wanted to keep an eye on her. Tugging on her lower lip, resting his hands on her hips, giving them a light squeeze.

“...I’ve never even kissed a guy before…” she admitted after pulling herself away. Her cheeks were more pink now, eyes half lidded as she looked at him, her arms around his neck.

“Oh?” Strade pulled her in until she was fully straddling him. “So you’ve never been in a guys house? Do you even know what will happen when we get inside?” he teased, breathing hot air across her ear.

“Yes! We uh…we…” she was teetering off again. Quiet little thing, he’d prefer it if she were less shy, more loud. There would be time for that later.

“Don’t worry… I’ll guide you through it all.” he comforted her, before swinging his car door open. “Now let's be quiet, alright? Can’t wake any neighbors.” he held a finger up to his mouth, winking with a mischievous smile on his face.

The click of the house door behind him sealed her fate, it set something at ease within him. He had her, there was no way out for her now. He pinned her to the wall in the hallway, working a hand up her shirt fervently as he nibbled on her lips again. Ren had told him not to use his teeth, but he really couldn’t help it. She just seemed like she’d taste so sweet.

She was moaning anyways, so that must mean he was doing it right. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had someone over for sex, just sex. She wasn’t very active though, letting him continue to maul her and not doing much more than clinging to him and letting him strip her down. Shirt first, then her jeans. He snapped the elastic of her underwear playfully, drawing out a “yip” from her.

He had to admit, this one sided wrestling did do something for him. He was already hard in his pants, though maybe that was because of the knowledge that soon he’d have what he wanted… He just needed to find the right moment to strike.

She was in his bed now, completely naked, and clearly fighting not to hide her form from him. His gaze raked down her lustfully, from her breasts down to her soft stomach, to her thighs. So many places to mark her, and make her his.

First he needed to undress though. He pulled his button up off with haste, and then his socks. There really was no sexy way to take those off, and he really didn’t care. He smiled at her, his grin beginning to take on a more predatory look in the dim lighting.

Her eyes were trained on him, she was waiting with bated breath. He pulled his pants down slowly-

“Eep!” she let out a squeak like a mouse as his erection sprang free, and she hid her face in her hands. He paused, his grin flickering in confusion.

“No! No, I'm sorry! I’ve just… never.. Seen a penis before.” she was stammering quickly. “Oh my god, I sound so stupid, I’m sorry.”

Strade really couldn’t help it, he tilted his head back and let out a full laugh, deep from within his chest.

“You really are such a cute thing.” He grinned, climbing into bed with her. She seemed small underneath him, curled up in herself. He was being a bit impatient, grabbing her knees to spread her open.

She wasn’t stopping him though, and she was glistening with her own fluids. He wondered how long she’d been wet for him. He rubbed his cock against her folds, letting out a groan, listening to her breath hitch as the head of his cock rubbed against her clit.

Even if he let himself, he felt like he wouldn’t have been able to shove it all in at once. Damn, she was so tight. His smile flickered and he groaned as he pushed himself inside, pausing every few moments to adjust.

It was almost painfully tight… He looked up into her face, and almost laughed again. Eyes closed, face screwed up, she was clearly in a bit of pain, fighting down little whimpers. Yep, a definite virgin. He didn’t think of himself as having a kink for virgins, but there was something nice knowing he was her first experience… and would be her only experience.

“Relax.” He instructed, lowering himself so that they were chest to chest. Her skin felt great against his. She nodded, keeping one eye closed as she looked at him.

“I-It’s just… really big.” she managed to gasp out, wrapping her arms around his neck. Strade arched an eyebrow, letting out a small chuckle.

“Aaww, you big flatterer.” She was relaxing though, allowing him to move. Strade nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelt good, a mix of sweat, sticky sweetness from her drinks, and something floral, he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A perfume or something, he figured. He ran his tongue along her neck, groaning as he thrusted in and out of her.

She was giggling now, though letting out small gasps and moans.

“Your scruffy cheek... It tickles.” she whispered, hooking her chin over his shoulder.

“Is that all you feel?” he asked, trying not to sound exasperated. She shook her head.

“N-No… It feels good. Please keep going.” she added on that last part, a subtle beg. He wanted her to beg more.

He lifted himself off her, setting himself up for a better angle before continuing his thrusts. She was unfolding for him, a dusting of pink on her cheeks as she stared up at him with lust and admiration. She really liked him so much. She was such a sweet little idiot.

No matter how romantic he attempted to make it though, it didn’t stop this from being his favorite kind of fun. Messy. They were sweaty, pubic hair sticky with eachothers fluids, how she licked her lips to try and catch the drool that was finding its way out.

She was moaning his name in earnest now, shaking her hips to match his movements.

“Strade… I-I’m so close… Please don’t stop.” Strade flashed her a grin through his haze. He had no intention of stopping. He wouldn’t stop for a long time. The perfect time to strike suddenly hit him and he readied himself.

The way her hips stuttered, her moans rising, voice warbling. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, he felt her nails draw blood. Now.

He moved with frightening quickness, wrapping a hand around her neck. Confusion, hearing that last gasp of air leave her lips as he tightened his hold. First begging, mouthing, asking him what he’s doing without a voice.

His hips snapped into her as she began to writhe and struggle against him. There it was. He grinned down at her as her eyes widened in fear, as she began to panic. No Oxygen.

Her hands left his shoulders to scramble at his wrist, trying to pull him off. She was tightening around him, no longer relaxed. That didn’t matter to him anymore though, he was so close.

He groaned as she kicked out, trying to fight back, her walls were flexing, her back arching.

“Oh wow, are you cumming you naughty little thing?” he asked, watching her face turn redder by the second. Tears were trickling down her face now, her grip on his wrist was getting weaker.

It was enough to push him over the edge, he gripped her hip with his spare hand, hard enough that he was definitely leaving bruises. Emptying himself inside her, he tilted his head back, sighing in bliss as he felt her go limp under him.

He spent a few more seconds like that, basking in the afterglow before letting go of her neck.

“Still Alive, Schatzi?” he asked, slapping her cheek before feeling for a pulse. Fast, but still there. She was just out, exactly what he wanted. He pulled himself out slowly, looking around for his boxers.

“Ren!” he shouted, after finding them and pulling them on. The shorter man appeared in the doorway almost instantly. Had he been listening in on them? Strade supposed that would be very classic for him.

“Do me a favor buddy.” He wiped his forehead, he was a bit out of breath. “Help me drag this fine guest down to the basement, alright?” Ren’s gaze traveled to the collapsed woman on the bed.

“Yeah, sure… Uhm… When she’s down there. Could I-?” Ren cut himself off, but his question was there. Strade hummed a bit, tapping his chin as if he were deep in thought.

“Yeah, sure, you can take her for a spin too.” he smiled, grabbing her by the legs as Ren pushed his hands under her arms.

“She was so tense before, but I got her all nice and relaxed now!” he said with a wink, watching Ren roll his eyes as they began moving her to what would eventually be her final resting place.

#boyfriend to death #strade #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death fanfic #Strade btd fanfic #Strade boyfriend to death fanfic

57 notes · View notes

canirove · 2 years

Text

Red & Blue | Chapter 25

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“C´mon, c´mon. Where are you?” I mutter, checking my watch for the millionth time in the last hour.

After our time with the national team, that literally flew by, we started looking for a couple of days where we both were free and that would allow us to travel and see the other. But it was harder than we thought. Or at least it was until Mason’s hamstring said no more.

He is gonna be out for a month, and since Chelsea is playing away this weekend and I am playing in Madrid, it was the perfect opportunity for him to come and visit me for the first time. And with our anniversary just around the corner.

“Holy shit!” I scream when I hear the phone buzzing. “Hello?”

“Your guest is here, miss” the guard set at the door of the urbanization where I live says.

“Finally! Let him in, please.”

The moment I put the phone down, I run to the door, my eyes fixed on the screen that shows my front door, waiting for Mason’s car to show up.

“It only takes you a couple of minutes, where are they?” I say to it.

As if hearing me, I see the car stopping, and I run out the door, not bothering to confirm if it was him or not. I just can’t wait any longer.

“Fucking finally” I say, throwing myself at Mason.

“Hello, gorgeous” he chuckles.

“Why did it take you so long? I was starting to worry.”

“The driver said there was no traffic, that I would actually arrive early.”

“Really?”

“Yes, miss” the driver says, putting Mason’s luggage on the floor. “We were very lucky.”

“Oh” I say, blushing a bit.

“Let’s go inside. You aren’t wearing a coat and I don’t want you to freeze to death. Thank you very much” he says to the driver, shaking his hand.

“Thank you, sir” the driver says. “Enjoy Madrid.”

“This looks much better in person than on the videos you showed me” Mason says as he walks into the house. “And much bi…” I don’t let Mason finish that sentence. I push him against the door, closing it while kissing him.

“That was… intense” he laughs, our lips still very close.

“And I just started. Would you like a tour of my room?”

“I would love that.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Are you sure you know how to do that?”

“I do, Mason. Don’t worry.”

“Ok…” he says, leaning on the kitchen counter. “And you say one of your teammates taught you how to make it?”

“Yep.”

“Can you say it in Spanish again? It was very funny.”

“Tortilla española” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Yep. Too funny” he says, pinching another bit of bread.

“We are supposed to eat that with the tortilla, not on its own.”

“But it is so good… Back home it doesn’t taste this good.”

“I know” I say. “Now, ready for the fun part?”

“You mean the dangerous part.”

“Meh meh meh” I say, putting a plate on top of the pan. “One, two… three!”

“Holy shit!” Mason says when he sees me turning them together, the mix now on the plate.

“See? Everything is ok.”

“Do you have to do that again?”

“A couple of times, yes. You need to make sure it is cooked on both sides.”

“And there is no other way to do it?”

“Nope.”

“Spaniards” he says, rolling his eyes and eating another bit of bread.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Are you sure this is edible?” Mason says when we sit to have dinner, looking at the slice of tortilla on his plate. “I’m here for just 48 hours, I don’t want to spend them dealing with food poisoning.”

“You will probably spend them with neck and back pain for sleeping on the couch if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Ok, ok” he says, trying to hide a smile.

“Should I try it first so you can see it’s fine?”

“No need” he says, finally eating.

“And?” I ask. Though his face already is telling me everything I need to know.

“This is so good, love. So so good.”

“I know” I say, grinning like an idiot while I see him devouring his food.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Mason, can you please stop fidgeting?”

“I’m not fidgeting. I’m just cold.”

“I told you to bring a proper coat. Madrid isn’t Ibiza.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“They are gonna like you and you are gonna like them, you’ll see” I say, hugging him so he stops moving.

“I hope so” he says, hugging me back.

We are outside my house, waiting for Marco Asensio and his wife Sandra, my neighbours and the people who have made me feel less lonely these first few months in Madrid.

“Sorry for making you wait” Marco says from his house’s door. “Sandra couldn’t find her phone.”

“I couldn’t find it because the last person who used it, somehow put it on his underwear drawer” she says behind him.

“Don’t listen to her” Marco says. “Mason, right?” he says, offering him his hand.

“Yes, hi” he replies, shaking it. “Nice to finally meet you outside the pitch.”

“Same” Marco says. “This is my wife, Sandra.”

“Nice you meet you” she says, giving Mason a kiss on each cheek, definitely catching him out of guard. “Didn’t you tell him about this?” she asks me.

“Oh, she did” Mason says. “But it still feels a bit weird. And who are you, gorgeous?”

“Hey, that’s my nickname” I say when I see him bending down.

“Sorry” he says. “But you can’t deny this is one of the most gorgeous dogs you have ever seen.”

“That’s Rome, our dog” Sandra says. “And he is one of the most gorgeous dogs I have ever seen, I agree.”

“Whatever” I say.

“Don’t listen to that woman, Rome” Mason says, playing with the dog. “She is a cat lady, she doesn’t get it.”

“Should we go for that walk now? I don’t want Chelsea to sue me for kicking their star in the butt and injury him more than he already is.”

“Ok, let’s go” Marco says, trying not to laugh.

“I would never kick you in the butt though” I whisper to Mason once we start walking. “I like it way too much.”

“Oh, I know” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“They are really nice. Marco and Sandra” Mason says while watching me pack my things.

“They are. I knew you would get along.”

“What’s the schedule now?”

“My car should be picking me in 15 minutes. You can stay here until lunch time, or you can already go to Marco’s house, they said they don’t mind. Then you eat with them, and go to the Di Stefano together to watch me play.”

“And then we all go somewhere for dinner.”

“Exactly.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we have the whole day for ourselves. I thought about going out for breakfast, maybe eat some churros with chocolate. Or we can order them and eat them here if you don't want to go out into the cold that early. Then we have a reservation at a restaurant, and then I thought we could go for a walk to El Retiro, this beautiful park they have here.”

“If we stay home for breakfast, what are we supposed to do until it is lunch time?”

“I don’t know. But I can think of a few things” I say, sitting on his lap.

“Can you?” he says, hugging me by the waist and pulling me closer to him .

“Indeed. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Shame. Where are you going?” he says as I try to get up.

“To finish my packing.”

“But I don’t want you to leave” Mason pouts.

“I have to go kick some asses. Maybe score and dedicate you my goal.”

“Will you do one of my celebrations so I know it is for me?”

“Yeah... no.”

“Then you are not free to go” he says, throwing me on the bed and starting to tickle me.

“Mason, stop!”

“Say that you will do one of my celebrations!”

“Mason!” I say, starting to cry while laughing. “Ok, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think if you are tickling me.”

“Ok, fine. But you must tell me before you leave.”

“I will, I promise.”

“I love you, gorgeous” Mason says, putting a lock of hair behind my ear.

“I love you too.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #football fanfic #football imagine

101 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 year

Note

GETTING MATCHING NIPPLE PIERCINGS W EDDIE (gender/poc up to you)

You are the literal devil. I will be billing you come Sunday.

Anywhoosies. Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader. This one is short and sweet, but I hope you like it anyhow!

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

________________________________

You don't know how the conversation came up. You think it might've been after the second beer and definitely before the fourth. But if you're honest, you don't care to remember how it came about. It was just supposed to be a silly fleeting thought. It wasn't supposed to take more air than needed to utter. It wasn't supposed to take on a breath, sprout legs, and come to life. It's all supposed to just be a not fully sober bo9t not tipsy thought that you let slip over your lips after it jumped up your throat and it's supposed to die just as quickly as it's uttered.

But in the time it takes for you to laugh it out, "What if we got nipple piercings? That would be hot," a seriousness and a desire plants itself in Eddie's chest. He manages to laugh with you in the moment but when you crawl into his bed later in the night, taking both pillows to hog leaving Eddie to prepare for the fight that will ensue with your unconscious body for one of the pillows back, Eddie creeps into the kitchen. He settles down at the counter, digging out the phonebook that he's not sure how they acquired--it feels like it's always been like the wrappers and cans--and flips through until he reaches the t's. Tattoo shops being his first line of defense. He'll try P's if nothing else strikes him.

Eddie grabs the white pad that he and Wayne use mostly for grocery list as haphazard as they are, and starts to scratch down names, addresses, and numbers. Only of the places he thinks the van could get there and back and that sound halfway decent to him. Besides, it could be a fun weekend trip to go into the city on a Friday look through the shortlist and then on Saturday make it a day of getting the piercing.

He knows he's doing a lot for something that you may not even actually want, but goddamn does he love the idea. So the least he can do and show you that he's for it.

It's not a shock that you rouse awake before Eddie. You always would. He had a habit of staying up. You weren't sure if he was trying to outlast something--ensuring that he would be the last one awake, or if he was trying to exhaust himself so when he did fall asleep no other thoughts could plague him. However, given the habit, you know he'll be out until almost noon. You creep into the kitchen, knowing Wayne is most likely just getting to sleep or has only been asslep for a couple hours.

Sure enough on the cot, you catch Wayne's sleeping frame and catch just the tail of his snore. You're as quiet as you can be to grab the box of cereal of the top of the fridge--a box you know they only have for you and you get the milk from the fridge with minimal rattle from the door hinge. It feels like any other Saturday morning until you catch the sight of the open phonebook.

Now you're here, sharing a receiver with Eddie to ask shops about healing times, proper after care, shop times after what what supposed to all just be a drop in the universe and never take stake. You don't know whether to thank or curse that beer. You don't know whether or not to thank or curse the universe. But you see the glee in Eddie's eyes as you narrow down to four different shops.

You're picky and Eddie's okay with it only because you're agreeing to the whole plan. He'll let you be as picky as you need to be; it only matters that you keep saying yes each time he asks if you really want it.

"What if I cry?" Eddie asks the question paused outside the glass doors. "If you go first and don't cry, I'm going to look stupid."

You roll your eyes, taking his hand again. "Then you'll just have to look stupid."

He squawks at you, "Hey! You're supposed to tell me it's okay to cry because it's manly to cry and then I'm supposed to say I'll go first and show you it's not a big deal."

"Next time, director, give me a clearer script and I'll follow it," you tease, yanking open the door.

"Welcome in." A lanky man and a shorter woman greet you as you two approach. You smile at them and return a greeting before launching into your desire for a piercing.

The woman nods, "Hazel, I'm the piercer here. I think I remember your voice. Y'all called about a week ago?"

"Eddie," you say pointing over your shoulder and then point to yourself and give your name. You don't even think about the fact that you're still holding his hand until Hazel asks who's going first and Eddie raises boh your intertwined hands.

You sigh. "Him, please tell me he can get a lollypop after. He's nervous."

"I think that can be arranged," Hazel laughs.

The two of you pick out your jewelry. You going with a simple internal threaded bar with what almost look like opals at the end that screw the piercing in place. Eddie goes for silver hoops though Hazel warns they might be a bit rougher to heal. Hazel wavves for Eddie to follow her after all the forms are signed. "Bring them with you," Hazel calls out when she notices it's just Eddie. "I'll let you hold their hand. How does that sound Eddie?"

"Honestly, wonderful." He turns to you and you can see the plea in his big brown eyes--the stare is almost hypnotic and you push out of the leather seat at the front and follow behind.

Hazel is thorough, wiping down the chair. She washes her hands, slips on gloves and then as Eddie remove his shirt. She explains all the steps again, the dots to make sure they're even, the forceps to keep the needle straight as it goes through, the jewellry, her screwing the ends on. It doesn't sound terrible. Not fun, but not horrible.

Eddie's hands shake just a little and you forward, Eddie being in front, to take his pinkie with yours. He squeezes the digit for a second and then loosen the grip, but never letting it fall. Eddie can breathe a bit easier with your touch. You are a buoy. You keep him floating in a thrashing sea.

In the end, Eddie doesn't cry--as in he doesn't blubber during the piercing, but his eyes definitely water and you press a kiss to his cheek when it's done. "A true badass," you tease.

"I know you're teasing me, but it's actually helping so please continue by all means," he returns, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. It's a quick brush before Hazel brandishes a small clear dishes of lollypops. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Hazel winks up at you. "Keep them for the parents that want their daughter's ears pierced. You'd be shocked at how much a piece of candy does the trick."

"I concur," Eddie slurs out around the red lollypop he's chosen.

You slip onto the table after Hazel gets it resantized, gets into a new pair of gloves and grabs new and clean equipment for you. Eddie offers his hands, a wiggle of his digits and brows, but you shake your head no. He pouts. "It's okay if you do," he whispers.

"Do you want me to hold your hand so you aren't the only one who needed it?"

"Absolutely." He says it so definitely and you can only snicker before taking his waiting hand.

Eddie will admit he keeps waiting for the squeeze. But all you do is lay there. Even as Hazel pinches, pierces, threads, and screws into place, you lay there. The only sign that you're in discomfort is the held breath. You release it as Hazel finishes up on the left side and Eddie watches in the mirror as you take in the sight of your new piercing. He smiles when your face lights up.

It is undeniable hot to see your nipples decorated so pretty, but it's going to be a long twelve weeks. Though he wonders now that he's back in his shirt, if it just never wearing a shirt would help make the time go faster.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #h writes #stranger things

67 notes · View notes

katenepveu · 6 months

Text

Museum for Art in Wood (Part 1)

This weekend I was in Philadelphia for social reasons, but squeezed in a short visit to the Museum for Art in Wood. This was delightful and frustrating in equal measures!

It originated as a museum for woodturning, in which wood is put on a lathe and spun at high speeds while being carved and shaped—like a potter's wheel, but at 90 degrees. (I like watching Andy Phillip on YouTube to relax sometimes, if you're looking for examples.) It has since expanded to include all kinds of contemporary art using wood, as well as art made with woodturning techniques.

It's free. There's a first-floor shop and temporary exhibition space; the next exhibition was being installed so I got to spy on that a bit from the second floor, which overlooks the exhibition space and houses the research library and the permanent collection.

This is where the delightful and frustrating part comes in:

There are hundreds of wonderful objects in the permanent collection, all on display ... and maybe twenty of them have actual labels. All the rest merely have small numbers next to them. If you want to know even so much as what a piece is called, you must look up that number on their website.

They do have a computer in the collection for you to use, if you don't have a phone on you. But this is still incredibly laborious and really puts a dent in browsing, at least for me. I ended up just taking a picture of anything I was remotely interested in and looking it up later, because I was already planning on making these posts and because I had limited time. (Not only that, but the website information and the information on the few labels present aren't always synced up; and there were works with incorrect labels, or no labels at all.)

Here are two pictures that give a sense of what I mean:

First, here is a picture of three beautiful wood-turned vessels by Ray Allen (scroll down past the books for links to individual pieces).

Very pretty, very traditional, very cramped; also the labels have gotten mixed up for 717 and 300. (Apologies for the shadows and reflections; it was not easy to take pictures, and in later posts I have sometimes resorted to pictures from their website where better, which sadly often they are not.)

Second, here are the Kiss My Ass Chairs, by Silas Kopf and Thomas Coughlin, on either side of Conversation Through a Table by Stephen Hogbin.

Great fun in an incredibly cramped space; does putting the unrelated table between the two chairs fully work for the pieces of art? I'm not sure.

All of which is to say that I have a new daydream of playing and winning the lottery: giving this museum an enormous donation on the condition that they get a bigger space, add labels to things, take proper high-res pictures of the collection, and generally make it as awesome as it definitely could be.

Okay, now that I've got that rant somewhat out of the way, I'm going to make a bunch more posts with actual art.

#sculpture #woodworking #Museum for Art in Wood #Philadelphia #mine-ish #art

12 notes · View notes

em0elm0 · 18 days

Text

Tips To Improve Your Oc's!

(Day Two/Part Two)

Hello there! As someone who has been making oc's for as long as I can remember, I thought that I'd give some pointers on how I make a believable character come to life in a story! And on how you can make the smallest tidbit of info really play into their story!

What is their hobby/hobbies? Does this involve any physical work?

Okay, so firstly, hobbies generally bring more depth into an oc. It shows what they enjoy doing and how they spend their time. But you can also invest more into these hobbies than Jenna likes playing kickball. For example, Person A, they enjoy woodworking in a small workshop their during free time. Sounds like a fun thing to mention in a story once in awhile, but don't end it there. One thing I know from when I was in a design and technology class, not too long ago, is that saw dust is a very real risk. You can give Person A poor vision or some sort of eye pain due to this dust getting in and scratching their eyes. This is easier to apply if they are the reckless type that refuses to wear proper eye protection, otherwise you can imply respiratory issues such as shortness of breath, or something such as a dry/sore throat, and more. You already have a few situations to make this a little more dramatic now then some rando taking a breather. Simple things such as that just sound better when it can be communicated without the: "Oh, I must catch my breath, for I've been running for far to long." I cannot tell you how many times I've read that before, or just heard it. At least tell me their lungs ached, and their back groaned in protest, I couldn't care about Kris and taking a breather next to his ever-so-hot love interest as he chokes on saliva. (Last part is a wish yet to come true.) Please keep in mind that you can keep on going with this idea in any way you want. Say Person B used to go fishing every weekend with grandpa, till grand-man let him toss the fishing line without proper instruction and got himself a dandy scar from the hook getting, well... hooked, into their skin.

(If you liked this I can always make more! Would love to assist in answering your questions if anyone has any!)

#oc #ocs #oc ideas #original character #creative writing #writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #ideas #fic ideas #story ideas #story prompt

6 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 2 years

Text

New around here (Charles Leclerc)

Note: english is not my first language

I realised I did not have any pieces wirh Charles where the reader wasn't already in a relationship with him so there's this

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mention of a previous car accident (non F1 related) and injuries (does not go into too much detail)

Since you could remember yourself as a proper Formula One fan, you would always tell your father, who was the one that made you watch the races in the first place, that one day you were going to grow up and do what that lady was doing, interviewing the drivers. And soon enough, thanks to hard work, persistence and a bit of luck, you managed to land yourself a job at Sky Sports, going through all the ranks of being just an intern pushing cables and wires around and writing notes for presenters to being sat in the room waiting for your colleagues Naomi and Natalie.

"Y/N, dear, how many times have we told you that you don't need to be so tense about things?", Natalie arrived and gave you a hug, seeing how you had already scribbled a few things down on the notepad ahead of the meeting, "today is a slow day at least, because this weekend we're back in the paddock, and you're coming with us!", she cheered as Naomi made a little celebration dance. And yet you stayed stiff as a board, if you were still a little bit tense in the mornings everytime reality downed on you that you were working with your idols, no one can imagine the nervousness that installed in your core at that revelation, "I'm going to SPA with you guys?", you asked, still unsure wether you had caught it correctly, "Yes! Myself and Natalie feel like you're ready, the rest of the team think so too, so you're coming with us, you'll do a few broadcasts, show your face for a change", she chuckled. You had participated in a few races' broadcasts, giving your opinion through audio only, sitting comfortably in the studio away from the cameras, and despite live TV broadcast being your end goal, you were still unsure. "Don't worry, we'll be there, the whole team will be there too, it's going to be great!", Natalie assured you as the three of you sat down and started discussing the plan for the weekend ahead.

Arriving in Stavelot on Thursday, the day was already scheduled down to the fullest since there was a lot to report and to find out after the summer break, making you drop your personal luggage quickly in the hotel room you were staying in before heading to the track. Even though you and your father had the tradition to go to a few races every time you could, you had never been to Spa-Francorchamps, leaving you to take in the view of the and from the track in awe, "Quite spectacular, isn't it?", Natalie said from behind you, "yeah, it feels like a dream really", you mused. You started arranging everything for the next day, going over the schedule and practicing some lines for the eventual broadcasts you'd be in.

Friday morning rolled around, your alarm waking you up and making you go and get ready for the long day ahead, picking an outfit that was presentable enough for television but also comfortable, knowing how long the day would be. You arrived in the paddock, scanning your pass and making your way to the place where you would be broadcasting soon, "And today we have a new face joining us", Naomi said, "her voice should be known to all of you by now as Y/N Y/L/N has been with us for the last 8 months commenting from the studio, and before that she was writing up our guidelines, so here she is! Y/N, tell everyone a little bit of your way here!", Naomi introduced, "like you said, I have been with Sky Sports since before I even graduated, I used to apply for summer jobs and I guess they liked me enough to keep me for my internship and now my full time job! I used to go karting up until I was fourteen but due to medical reasons I had to stop", you said referring to the car accident you had that left some damage on you back that, despite not being a trouble for day to day life, made you leave karting behind, "but I've always been a fan of Formula 1 so I'm very excited to be here this weekend!", you smiled as you kept discussing the day and what you expected to see around the paddock. Wrapping up the broadcast, the team all clapped and whistled, "Congratulations on your first broadcast girl, that was amazing!", Natalie cheered before getting a group hug from everyone, "You're a natural Y/N, well done!", Naomi finished before bringing you in a hug.

The cheers caught the attention of George, Charles and Lewis, who saw that Naomi was out of broadcast and excused himself from the group, making his way to where you stood, "Naomi, hi, how are you?", he greeted her before waving at the team, "Oh Lewis, this is Y/N, she's new on the paddock team", she said as Lewis stretched his arm, your won stretching too and meeting his fistbump almost out of memory muscle, "Hi, how are you?" before the short conversation came to an end, the team now needing you in the media pen, "You'll be there too?", Lewis asked, "yeah, and be nice to her Lewis, or she'll ask mean questions", Naomi teased before bidding goodbye. Lewis Hamilton had just fistbumped you and held a casual conversation, you could not wait until your dad heard about this.

The interviews in the media pen went smoothly, and you were waiting for the last one before Free Practices began, Charles Leclerc the last name on your notepad, "Hi, I'm Y/N for Sky Sports", you began asking your questions away, waiting patiently for Charles to give his final answer before you thanked him, "You're the new one, right?", he asked you, only managing to nod before he interrupted you, "Sorry, I thought I would've recognised your face if I had seen you before, and- and I heard the cheers back in the paddock", he quickly said, not wanting to come on too weird, "yeah, it's my first time at a GP", you smiled, "Well, I hope I'll see you around, I- I- mean, hopefully it's not your last", he replied as a slight pink tiny coloured his cheeks before he excused himself to get get ready.

Saturday had a whole another atmosphere going around, more fans in the circuit and just a genuine thrill for the qualifying sessions, everyone speculating how the new changes in the cars would change the grid positions. Finishing the final broadcast of the day, you felt a tug on your pants, making you look down to find a little girl no older that 7, her light brown hair in a braid and a huge coat protecting her body from the colder weather, the sun playing the usual tricks in Belgium. "Hi, how are you? I'm Y/N", you said crouching down so you were face to face with her, "Hi, I'm Emilia and when I grow up I want to be like you", she said sweetly, making you melt inside as you looked around to see any adult that seemed to be in charge of her, "thank you Emilia, that's very kind of you! Are you here alone?", you asked her gently, "No, daddy brought me here with him, he's an engineer, look, that's him in the red t-shirt!", she pointed happily to a group of men dressed in Ferrari team member clothing, a wave from one of them being the actual only way to find who her dad was. "One day, I'm going to have a microphone and talk about the fast cars to the camera too", she beamed, looking at the one you had in your hand, and a quick look around the team prompted you to make her an offer, "Do you want to hold this one?", and the little girl squealed in excitement as her wide eyes looked at you, "really? Can I go show daddy too?", she asked and you nodded, handing it to her and following her to her father, not wanting to be responsible for broken equipment on your first day. As she was showing the microphone around the group, you heard a French accent behind you, "What do you have there, Emi?", he asked, "Charles, you're here! How do you feel about the race tomorrow? Do you think you can get in the podium?", Emilia said into the microphone before nearly shoving it in Charles' face. Earning chuckles from everyone around, the monégasque answered, "I think tomorrow will be difficult, we seem to be off the pace a little bit but we're going to see what we can do about it", he replied as if he was in a serious interview, you vaguely remembering the same answer he had given Natalie that afternoon when she asked him a similar question, "You're going to take me out of my job darling, that was very good, very well done, voice placed correctly too, maybe next time just put the microphone a but further away from his face", you smiled at the little girl as she handed you the microphone back, her father thanking you for the opportunity, "Don't think she will shut up about it now!".

The race, as always in Spa, was full of action, Max making it to the podium from the back of the grid pretty easily as you watched Charles in particular, knowing how his season had been going and paying attention to the strategies, one of the things that made you fall in love with the sport, "Did I ever tell how how much I wanted to be a strategist when I was younger? I used to borrow my cousin's laptop and draw graphs on the screen and pretend they were stats from the race, and my little cousins would be driving their toy cars around the living room", you commented earning a chuckle from Natalie, "Seems like you would do no worse that Ferrari have been", she sneered slightly, taking the opportunity that she wasn't live or reporting to discuss with you the different points of view.

After the race, you were in the media pen checking your order as you nodded over to the communication advisor next to Charles, him signaling to Charles to head your way, a tight lipped smile on his face as he felt another interviewer tug on his arm, "Oh sorry, I'll talk to you after talking to her", he said politely despite the unhappy look on the other man's face.

You had already finished your interviews for the weekend and were now helping the team gather the equipment, making sure that nothing was left behind when you heard your name being called, "Ah, Y/N, you're still here!", Charles said, approaching you as you zipped the last camera bag and handed it to your colleague, "So, how was your first GP as an interviewer? How do you rate the experience?", he asked and you stood still for what felt like an eternity to Charles. Maybe it was weird for him to come back here, maybe he shouldn't have listened to Carlos when he said he had nothing to lose in checking if you were there still, until you spoke, "Oh, it's like I expected it to be, so tiring but so worth it! The atmosphere is so different from just being a fan out there, watching everything happen up close, truly the best thing ever", you exclaimed, the crinkles around your eyes more visible since your smile was the biggest it had ever been, making Charles' heart flip for a second. "Well, why don't we make it even better and swap numbers so we can have dinner when you get to Monza?", Charles tempted, knowing that worst case scenario he would get a no and would have to run away from you for the rest of his career, a small price he would have to pay for at least trying. Smiling at him, you took your phone out of your pants' pocket, handing it to him, "I'd like that very much", you said shyly as he gave you his phone, writing your number down and smiling at the prospect.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

332 notes · View notes