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davdcorenswet · 2 months

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🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them.

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him.

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours?

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: whirlwind.#thank yuuu for reading! 🥺🩷

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

hii can I get whiskey w Steve Rogers for oral/face riding?

Adjusting.

warnings - smut. cursing.

nomad steve makes me feral. that's all. I was feeling this one.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's adjusting, to this new life.

He's shy. Taking it one day at a time. Reminding himself to breathe when things get overwhelming.

Soon, he finds his feet. Regains his confidence. Starts asking for things, setting boundaries, taking what he wants a little more.

He keeps surprising you. With his knowledge, new slang he uses, his ability to use a phone. He's a fast learner.

He's braver, now.

He's adjusting.

Trying to get used to the fact that women aren't as seemingly fragile as they were. They run the world more openly, now, and Steve loves it.

He loves you.

Tries to show you how much when he's got you between his sheets, kissing every inch of skin he can find. Gentle, tender, careful.

You tell him that you know he loves you, no matter what. He doesn't have to be so tentative. It doesn't change the way you look at him.

He's in a lust fuelled haze when he finds the courage.

"Sit on my face."

You choke on your breath, gasping for air.

"What?"

"You heard me, honey. Sit on my face. Now."

You've never seen him like this. Frayed at the edges, feral almost. His eyes are as dark as the wet spot between your legs.

You quirk a brow at him in challenge, but he doesn't back down. So you grant him his wish. Crawling up his body until you're hovering over his pretty face, deep gaze focused on you.

"Is this what you want?" you whisper.

"More than anything."

He's practically growling, voice lower and rougher than you've ever heard it. You owe a thanks to whatever has got him so riled up.

He tugs you down to his mouth with two strong hands around your thighs, grip hard enough that you know you'll bruise tomorrow. You can't wait.

You tangle your fingers through his golden blonde locks and tug, whining when he groans, from the depths his chest. The two of you are animalistic, finally tapping into the carnal desires that have been there all along.

You're practically riding the gorgeous ridge of his nose, reveling in the way his tongue slips inside and curls. He might not have much experience with this, but he's always been naturally gifted. He's one of those people that's good at everything.

He's groaning, humming, murmuring, enjoying this just as much as you are. Your hands almost splinter the headboard, skin pulled taut across tense knuckles. You're so close you can taste it, honey sweet and saccharine.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl. Come on my face, honey. Please."

It's the broken please that gets you, the desperation in his tone and the tightening grip on your hips. You see stars, dizzying and clear, blood rushing to your head. Steve doesn't let up, determined to see how pretty you look when he finally pushes you to your limit.

You collapse against his chest, leaning into his touch like a kitten. Rough fingertips trace patterns across your back, your arms, your hips. He's waiting for you to give him the green light.

You kiss him with force, tongue sliding into his mouth with no room for protest. You bite his lip and grin. America's golden boy. Lying under you with your come smeared across his face.

He leans up to whisper in your ear, rough tone filled with promise and mischief.

"I love you," he murmurs, tongue gliding across your neck. "Let me fuck you like I don't."

You've never been one to deny him. You're not about to start now.

He's adjusting, after all.

#murphy's 3k celebration #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #captain america x reader #captain america smut

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tinyarsonist · 8 months

Text

Volume: Up

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI 18+ Only

TW: idol!Chan, IdolTrainee!Y/N(fem!), drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, masturbation, dumification, nipple play (fem!), cum on stomach, PleasureDom!Chan, switch!reader (fem!), pull out, cum on stomach, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold is in Spanish. Rest in English.

Volume Series: Part One | Part Two | ?

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?" Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic. The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body. His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question.

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes.

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis, kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection. Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer.

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow.

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

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sleepyangelkami · 8 months

Text

NS//FW ALPHABET .vi

☆ WORD COUNT - 5.3K

VI (ARCANE) X FEM!READER

☆ WARNINGS - smut, nsf//w themes, much much more but unfortunately i will not be typing them all out because this entire post is around sexual themes, read at your own risk ! intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

AFTERCARE, what they're like after sex vi likes to be a little rough, this is no secret to you or her. but she makes sure to change that as soon as it's over. she'll take the harness off her hips, discarding it before crawling back up to you, placing kisses on your cheek and shoulder. "you okay?" always wanting to know what's going on inside you're head. "was it okay? too rough? no?" of course she likes it rough, so do you, neither of you would have it any other way but she also wants to make sure that you can communicate your limits, even through your fucked out glossy lips. "good girl, that feel better?" she'll already be rubbing cream on the little bruises, whether it was on your hips or across your ass. she doesn't care where it hurts, all she cares is to make it better. "my pretty girl, did so well." she'll make sure to murmur as she cleans your bottom half with a cloth, trying to ignore your broken whimpers as she coos, attempting to shush you. you'll both sleep naked, skin to skin with your arms woven around her neck, hers around your waist and holding you close.

BODY PART, her favourite body part of hers and also yours it's no secret that you're obsessed with her arms, it made her a little obsessed with them too. she loves her biseps, the way they flex and most importantly, the way you stare at them, all wet-mouthed when they do. she also loves the strength in her arm to keep you pinned against the bed, stopping you from writhing under her or the way they sit at either side of your head, watching you get wide eyed at feeling a little trapped yet awfully flustered. she loves how much you love them. she adores all of you, truly every inch of your body but she'd be lying if she said she didn't love those thighs impossibly more. she loves grabbing at them, pushing your little skirts and dresses up to reveal the skin that she can push and pinch at. she adores nothing more than being inside you, head thrown back yet still, her hands are on those precious thighs, kneading and playing with the plush skin. they're like two stressballs in her hands and you can't help but writhe against her as she does so.

CUM, anything to do with cum really vi can squirt pretty easily, it just comes naturally to her. but what she loves even more than squirting is making you squirt. when you'd looked away, all shy and embarrassed after telling her you'd never been able to squirt before, she just had to take it on as a challenge. and when she was fingering you, pumping her fingers in and out as her mouth sucked on your clit, she couldn't help but grin at the spurts coming from your cunt. "atta girl." she'd coo, pulling her mouth away and pressing a slap to your pussy. "that's it, good girl." all proud of herself for being able to achieve the said impossible.

DIRTY SECRET, a dirty secret of hers vi wouldn't call herself a criminal. sure, she spent her fair share inside stillwater though she thought those circumstances were sort of unnecessary. she thought once she got out, she'd left her thief days behind her. not that she'd call it stealing, she always said she was just doing what she needed to survive. but if that were true, your white cotton panties wouldn't be hidden in her drawer or your lacy pink ones wouldn't be sitting in her back pocket. she was so discrete about it, waiting until you'd turned away or even walked away for a second before slipping them between her fingers and into the back of her pants, right in the pocket. she was good at being sly about it, after all, she'd had practice. you'd come back, looking through your laundry basket or the folded clothes on your bed, brows knit together all confused. "something wrong, cupcake?" she'd question, pretending not to be interested as her eyes studied the comic book that had been sitting on your bed or something or other. "jus' looking for something." you'd mumble distractedly, fishing through your clothes once more, you'd think you'd gone insane. but vi then turned her attention on you, feigning confusion. "what're you looking for?" she'd smirk at the way you'd flush then, turning away. "n-nothing."

EXPERIENCE, how experienced is she? does she know what she's doing? you know, most people think vi doesn't have much experience seeing as she was in prison for a couple years but i BEG TO DIFFER. you cannot tell me this girl wasn't getting around behind those bars. every lunch, every dinner, every time she got out, she was eyeing up someone knew. she didn't care whether they were desperate or played hard to get, she had no preferences when it came to that prison, not that she had a lot to work with anyway. but aside from that, she was pretty much open to just about anything. she didn't care who it was, if they were willing to give, she was willing to take. though, it was often in the most uncomfortable places in the world. in the janitors closet or some other remote area where she wouldn't get caught. times could get tough inside prison and sometimes all you needed was to blow off some steam and get that anger out which is exactly what she did. i think vi would be very experienced in that department which is why it was so different when it came to you. both in a soft bed, no pressure, no need for stress relief. it came calm to her, like she didn't have to rush unlike the people in the prison where if the quickie didn't hurry up, they'd be getting caught by enforcers. which is probably not what one would want to see as they... you know, finish?

FAVOURITE POSITION, self explanatory I think vi likes having you in missionary. there's something about her holding you close, one hand coming beneath your chin to force your head up. "look at me when you take it, 'kay baby?" her voice filled with little whimpers here and there because as much as she tried to stay strong, she couldn't help the way you made her feel. she wants you to keep eye contact all the time, forcing you to look at her whenever your eyes drift away or shut closed. when you're mumbling about being close and she can feel your cunt tightening around the strap, she can't help but grab your face roughly again. "look at me when you cum." it's not a suggestion nor question, it's an order.

GOOFY, is she humorous in the moment? does she make jokes? during sex, vi is usually serious. she's not serious in a scary way that would make you rigid but she doesn't often bring in goofiness to the situation either, unless, of course, you'd asked her to. she wouldn't mind if you'd asked her for something more lighthearted but when vi has sex, her usual instincts take over. she becomes a much more serious person, her entire mind switching to one thing, pleasuring you. the whole point was to make sure you felt good and the last thing she wanted to do was make you insecure in any way. with that being said, she might murmur a couple things with a humorous chuckle. "yeah? you like that cupcake?" when she does something slightly out of your guys' normality. but of course, she knows you like it by the way your back is arching and moans fall freely. but she can't help it but tease.

HAIR, how is she groomed? does the carpet match the drapes? i'd imagine that vi shaves pretty regularly. something about being in prison for so long and not exactly having the option to. now, she has a sense of freedom about it and seeing as she can have longer showers and such i can imagine that she'd be in there for over an hour, shaving too. it also probably makes her feel a little cleaner after being in the prison (not that it's dirty not to shave some people just find it makes them feel cleaner afterwards) but when it comes to you, she really doesn't care. she'd probably prefer you to be a little shaved but i don't think she'd care to the extreme that you'd have to be bald or anything like that. she'd just prefer you to trim, at least, otherwise, you're good! as long as it's not too much.

INTIMACY, how is she in the moment through romantic aspect? vi prefers it intimate. even if she's degrading you, perhaps she's praising you, either way, she's worshipping your body completely. being in the prison, she's had so much meaningless sex that this is so important for her, you're important to her. and having sex is one of the most vulnerable things you can do. she wants not only you to be comfortable but herself to be too. she's not big on 'fucking around and getting it over with' not anymore, at least. with you, she likes to take things slow, even if it's teasing. but don't get me wrong, you can still take things slow to a intimate level and still make sure you're covered in bruises and looking up at her with big watery eyes. she supposes it's just the aspect of caring. there's a difference between degrading some random girl in the janitors closet than degrading you, her beautiful cupcake, even if she's calling you a pathetic slut. even her praises are laced with love, strangely enough.

JACK OFF, anything to do with masturbation vi doesn't masturbate a whole bunch. she's done it many times before, of course, as everyone has but she's not the biggest fan of it. she prefers to feel someone else. before, when she was in the prison, she could have any girl she wanted at her fingertips so she didn't need to. but now that it's just you and her, she has you in her clutch almost always. but of course, as every relationship, there are times when you guys can't be together. and if she's horny then, she has no problem trailing her hand down her own pants, rubbing one out to the thought of you. even if you're not there, you're still the only thing plaguing her mind. she'll think of your whimpers and moans while trying to keep her own at bay. her head stuck in your pillow.

KINK, a kink of hers don't get me wrong, you're one hundred and ten percent vi's pillow princess, she just loves having her fingers burried inside you and her mouth on your weeping cunt. she's just not always sweet about it. vi will edge you until you can't take it anymore. she loves the way she feels you clamping around her fingers, mumbling all needily about how you're close, so so close and it's as if one more pump of her fingers could do it for you. but before you finish, her hand is leaving your body, slapping down on your pussy gently before kissing your shoulders. she loves the way you cry out for her, tears filling your eyes and she has no problem mocking you afterwards. "awh, baby, were you close?" and you'll nod, all sniffly. all you needed was the sweet relief she'd promised you beforehand and yet it was the only thing she wasn't sticking to. it felt good, definitely, amazing even but you just needed to reach the edge and she was denying you of that. "poor thing." she'll push her hand down again, pleasuring and pleasing you until you're seeing stars. and just as you're ready to cum once more, that familiar knot inside your stomach, her hands leave you again. "stop whining." she'll murmur, slapping your cunt again. "or else you won't cum at all."

LOCATION, where is her favourite place to do it vi prefers your bedroom. you have a big upcity house in piltover so the girl could live in your bed if she wanted. it was surely big enough. and with your massive house, walls so thick, she didn't have to worry about anyone hearing you both. there's a difference between you and the other girls she was with, she wanted to take her time with you, make sure you were as comfortable as she would so she could touch you in all the places that she wanted to. vi thought that being comfortable was important and for her, she didn't think she'd be so comfortable doing the things she wanted to you in a public bathroom or a friends house. she loves having you in your bed, the scent of you filling the room, everything was so unique and fit to your personality. she loves being surrounded by your sheets when you finish or having your music player in the corner of the room, one of your favourite songs a low murmur as you whimper and whine into her shoulder, trying to keep your noises down but as always, she didn't like that. "don't do that, wanna hear you." because you had the power to be as loud as you pleased seeing as you were home and comfortable.

MOTIVATION, what turns her on and gets her going vi isn't someone that would get mega turned on easily although it's seemingly always in the back of her head to try and turn you on. she's done it so much that she now does it subconsciously. she doesn't mean to talk to you in that tone at the worst possible moments but when she does, she can see it on your face what she's done. that is what gets her going. she loves when you suddenly get all flustered, a little bashful, especially in front of people. perhaps you're trying to talk to cait when she puts a hand around your waist, touching you a little too much for it to mean nothing. she loves seeing the way your cheeks heat up and you suddenly stumble on your words. she just loves putting you into your place, watching you get all subby and dumb for her so quickly. the way you'll look at her to finish your words for you, or stand a little closer, almost behind her. she loves the way you lean on her mentally, making it seem as though you were incapable of doing anything without the help of your vi. then, at least, everyone would be able to grasp the fact that you were off limits.

NO, something she wouldn't do, turn offs pick this as you please, there's no kink shaming on this blog ! 🩷

ORAL, preference in giving or receiving, skill, ect vi's a giver. and she's good at what she does. she knows this, you know this, it appears as though everyone does. and this makes her awfully confident. she loves having her strong bisep holding down your hips as she licks you out, lapping you up like a dog without any shame. she loves the sound of squelching that you both unintentionally make and she relishes in it. she watches your back arch off the bed and smirks against you, her tongue embedding itself in your hole. however, if you did want to give, she wouldn't exactly have a problem with it. she'd have you lying on your back, looking up at her through your lashes as she sits herself on your face. "look so pretty under me." she'll murmur as she gets herself off on your face, her hips rolling as you did everything in your power to make her feel good, licking and lapping at her with your little kitten licks. she was so good to you, it was only fair that you gave her the same feeling back in return.

PACE, is she fast, slow, stamina, ect vi has stamina like you've never seen before. when she has her strap embedded deep inside you, it's like she can't stop. she's rough with her hands grasping your hips and thighs, squeezing the plush as she fucks herself into you over and over. vi loves edging as we know, but the night usually ends with overstimulation. and between both that and the roughness or her hands on your body, you're so fucked out and subby by the end of it that you're practically putty in her hands. vi can go many rounds all while holding her fast pace without so much of a stutter of her hips, she can withstand much more than you can with her high stamina so if you're willing to let her, she'll use you like her little toy for as long as she pleases once you're fucked out and crying into the mattress.

QUICKIES, her opinion on them? how often? ect not the biggest fan. don't get me wrong, of course you turn vi on. sometimes, she's sitting in a restaurant with her legs folded over themselves, squeezing them together as she tries to stop thinking about it. she fails, of course. every little thing that you do, looking at her with your doe eyes, your bottom lip between your teeth, even your grabby hands at her biceps, you make her go crazy sometimes. but as badly as she wants to bend you over the bathroom counter and take you then and there, she won't. this way, she won't get to spend all her time using you, won't get to take her time when dragging your panties down your legs or edging then overstimulating you until you can't walk. but that doesn't mean she won't tease. and boy, does this girl love to tease. she'll put her hands all over your body, squeezing at your thigh or pushing them around your waist. she speaks to you in the very tone that has your face hot as rocks and whispers things in your ear. but she won't take you then and there. she'll wait, until she thinks the time is right. then, she'll make a steady exit with you in her arms, bringing you right on home. as soon as you reach home, she's making her move. and as you moan with your eyes rolled back as her hand reaches your puffy clit, she can't help but grin. "this what you wanted, hm? got you all pent up, huh? so mean." she'll mutter, ready to finally put you where she wants you.

RISK, is she game to experiment? does she take risks? usually, vi isn't one to take risks, she likes having you inside your big bedroom, everything so you as she fucks the stars out of your head. with that being said, you did still live with your parents. and sure, your walls were thick enough but sometimes, just sometimes, there may be a couple... complications. if vi is fucking you, she's not stopping. it's her rule. so, if your mother is at the door, twisting the knob and asking why your door is locked, you're trying to respond in the steadiest voice you can. "'m j-jus'- nngh- exercising, mom!" worst excuse ever but it's all you could come up with as her fingers are stuffed in your hole. "are you alright?" she'll ask hearing the noise you'd tried to keep at bay. you mentally cursed yourself. "think i-i hurt my leg, 'm fine!" she'd ask if you needed help to which you'd instant tell her no. with a strange expression, she'd walk away from your door. "such a peculiar child." or, if someone was calling you, you'd ignore it. vi though, she'd always answer her phone, no matter the situation. "yes?" her voice wil ring through the phone, despite the fact that her fingers are still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. when the person at the other side of the phone would ask what the sound was at one of your particular whimpers, vi would smirk. "i got a dog." she'd almost laugh. "a dog?" they'd question, in confusion. "yeah, a cute little bitch." you though, were too fucked out to care.

STAMINA, how many rounds can she go for? how long does she last? like i said before, you'd never met someone with the stamina that vi had. it was truly unearthly, you thought it was slightly concerning, actually. vi threw you around like a rag dog, her big arms allowing her to do so as she fucked her strap into you, strings of curses and moans falling from her lips. it would get to the part of the night where you're just too fucked out to even say anything, babbling though you were sure they weren't even real words, the only thing you could say was one particularly short word, vi's name. it was exactly how vi wanted it, she wished for the only thing to be running through your head to be her and that pretty pink strap in your hole. vi can last long too, it's almost incredible how she can fuck at least two orgasms out of you before cumming herself. however, when she does eventually finish, she likes to make sure that you're right on the edge too so you can do it together, there's something so intimate about having her hands enveloping yours, both of you seeing nothing but white at the exact same time, your climax enveloping you.

TOYS, does she own toys? does she use them? nothing is better than coming home and having you either bouncing on her cock or laying down as she pumped it into you, getting rid of every nerve in her body. though, as much as vi adored her strap, she'd be lying if she said it were her favourite thing to use on you. vi own's a vibrator and boy does she put it to good use. she doesn't care how you take it but if that vibrator is on your clit, she's going insane. it's one of the ones with the big wand so she'll force your legs up, holding it down to your clit and cooing as your back arches. "awh, feels good, sweets?" and you'll barely be able to respond, so wrapped up in your own thoughts and pleasure as the wand vibrates against you, sending shocks through your entire body. or perhaps she's using it on you both. she's done it before where she's hovered over you, rubbing her clit against yours and just before she gets close, she decides to add a little more fun to the mix. she'll place the vibrator between you two, watching as your clit is vibrated against it, her own doing the same as she holds back her noises, her juices mixing with your own. her favourite thing about scissoring is how messy it gets so when she's given the option to put a vibrator between you two, knowing it'll only get impossibly messier, she can't not take the opportunity.

UNFAIR, how much does she like to tease? sometimes it seems as though vi knows you better than anyone else in the world, she likes to throw this around every now and then. like when your eyes flutter closed and your hole tightens against her fingers. she knows you so well, she knows that face and those strings of moans. "you close, baby?" she'll murmur against you and when you nod with a whimper, she'll take her fingers straight out of you, tongue coming down to lick the juices from it. you'll whine at the sudden loss of contact, feeling cold and empty without her long fingers to fill you up. but when she asks what's wrong, you simply can't speak, all nervous and hot. she loves this side of you and uses it to her advantage multiple times. she likes when you're shy, but she makes sure you know it won't slide with her. "what is it you want, sweetheart? gotta say it or else you won't get it." but when you're merely whining, her hand will come down to press a slap on the outer fat of your thigh. "you have words." she'll remind you while grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at her even through your glossy eyes. "use them." and when you do, you get your way as promised. as soon as you're babbling out the words about needing her fingers, her mouth, her strap, whatever it is you desire in that moment, she's pressing little kisses onto your skin. "see? wasn't so hard was it, pretty girl?"

VOLUME, how loud is she? what sounds does she make? whimpers. what? she can't help it. poor girl just wants to please you by slamming her 'cock' into your cunt over and over, repeatedly hitting exactly where you need it. but the way the base of the strap hits against her so good, she can't help the whimpers that fall from her mouth. "hmmph, cupcake, y'feel so good." she'll mumble, too fucked out to degrade you. that's when you know it's gotten her, when you know she's close. when she's too wrapped up in her own mind, dizzy and seeing stars. she's not able to get the words out to call you her filthy slut so instead, the words tumbling out of her mouth are like praises, sweet nothings even. and when she knows you're getting close too, her mouth is like a waterfall that simply refuses to stop. she'll utter and mumble things to keep herself grounded, trying to focus the attention on you and not her flaming cheeks. "so g-good f'me, angel, always so good- huuh~" trying to utter the words before being stopped with a gasp, one that shows she's just as close as you are. the spurting feeling follows soon after.

WILD CARD, random head cannon talking about herself in third person is something vi often does. whether she's alone, telling herself that everything will be fine she just has to fix it or she has you wrapped around her little finger, loving the sounds you make. your head will be looking down to her own face, sitting between your thighs, eyes trailing over the tattoo on her cheek. you'll be a whining mess, just wanting her to touch you so you can get your sweet release. her biceps will pin you down, holding you against the bed. "shh, baby, vi will make you feel good." talking about herself as if she isn't in her own body. though you have to be honest, she did hold that promise up as her head dipped further between your thighs, tongue flat against your clit and tasting you. or perhaps she has your face in the mattress, your ass up in the air as her strap fucks into you. you're whining as you squirt again and she just cant get enough of the juices flowing out of you. but you? you're mumbling and babbling incoherently about how you're making a mess. you'll be so worried about the juices falling all over your sheets and now it's getting so messy that you can't think of anything else. vi, though, to soothe your worries, merely fucks the strap so deep inside you that you can't think of anything other than her, soothing down the skin of your hips. "shh, sweetheart, vi'll clean up the mess either." reassuring you like the sweet girl she is.

X-RAY, what's going on underneath them clothes? a bright pink strap. she loves the strap as it goes with her outfits, and her hair and everything else belonging to you. she loves having you bounce on it, whining about how you can't take it anymore but vi won't let you get out that easily. she's telling you to keep going or if she can truly see the exhaustion in your eyes, her hands are finding way to your hips, bouncing you up and down so you don't have to do any of the work. the last thing she needs is her princess getting too tired before she can finish with her. you also go slightly feral over her boobs. perhaps she's laying on her side, your legs propped up with rope she's bound against your body and you're just writhing. she has the vibrator sat pretty against your puffy clit. you're whining and whimpering, not able to keep still and before you know it, your lips are on her boobs. she's trying to contain her sounds, trying to hold the vibrator upright while your tongue swirls around her nipples. you can't get enough, just needing your mouth on something and the way her boobs feel snug between your lips, your warm drool falling all over the milky skin. you just can't contain yourself as you feel yourself approaching yet another orgasm. but this time, vi's too focused on the way your lips feel against her boobs to have any power left in her to tell you not to come.

YEARNING, how high is her sex drive? sometimes, vi can't take the way you are around her. especially in public. the way you're grabbing at her or standing close yet a little behind her when interacting with other people. she just loves it so much that she's sure she could dick you down then and there. but, as said before, she lets the tension build up until you both break. but that doesn't mean she doesn't get horny quickly. my god, this girl cannot for the life of herself go through one day without feeling a wet splotch form in her boxers. then, she blames you. perhaps it was because you'd bent over once to pick something up or you had your hands behind your back and she'd imagined tying them that way. you'd always just stare up at her and ask her when she'd take accountability for merely being horny. she'd shrug her shoulders, telling you never. and you'd believe it.

ZZZ, how quickly does she fall asleep afterwards? vi just has unlimited energy, it seems. when you guys are finished, she wants to make sure that you know you're safe, at home, with her. the sheets will be slightly messy but oh well, that's a tomorrow problem. Her main goal is to make sure you're okay. she'll place the wet rag where you need it, washing you off with the energy that she still has. then, you finally find yourself in her arms, her skin hot against your skin but thankfully the cold sheets offer a little relief. vi will talk to you while she's still awake, about anything and everything. just because she knows you like falling asleep to the sound of her voice and god knows she has enough energy to keep talking. "really?" you'll babble, all tired as your eyes are screwed shut. she's telling you random facts and stories that you've probably already heard before. yet every time, you seemed more impressed. "really, baby." and she'll only stop talking when she asks if you're still listening and receives no response. she knows you're sleeping so she tries to stay as still as she can while playing with your hair strands between her fingers, smiling softly at how good you were for her. she still has energy so she'll lay awake for a while but she won't leave, fearing you'll wake up and she wont be there. she wants you to know that she will be there, always.

main masterlist/vi's masterlist

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lethesbeastie · 4 months

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Hi, I saw your post about practicing drawing fat people and I was wondering if you could compile like a list of resources or references?

It can be difficult to find resources for drawing the wide variety of forms fat bodies can occupy, so I've done my best to bring together some resources I've been able to prove have some degree of diversity in the references they offer!

My primary resource recommendation for drawing fat people is Morpho Anatomy For Artists: Fat And Skin Folds! It does a wonderful job breaking down where fat accumulates on the body, how it interacts with the familiar landmarks of human anatomy, and what sort of shapes it tends to form under the influence of gravity. It's a phenomenal reference and my top recommendation for anyone seeking to improve at drawing fat people!

When it comes to finding decent photo references for fat people, the pickings are frustratingly slim. Most sites that specialize in pose references either don't have fat models or have all their images behind paywalls. Of the resources I looked through, the best sources for pose references were Adorkastock and Line of Action.

@adorkastock actively seeks to provide an incredible profile of pose references with diverse body types, and as an added bonus you can access a lot of their images for free on their site/Tumblr or join their patreon for early access to images! Line of action is a site aimed towards practicing figure drawing, providing images and a timed function to challenge artists to sketch within a set time limit. I took the time to go through roughly 300+ images and was pleased to find that during my session around two-to-three out of every ten photos were fat models. The only caveats to this was the fact that most of the images were of the same individual, limiting the applications for studying the variants of fat bodies. Still, it's an amazing tool that has a free mode and allows you to filter the types of references you want based on age and level of nudity.

Beyond sites that specialize in art reference photography, there's also the ever popular Pinterest, which is the site where I typically seek references for my personal studies. Due to the nature of Pinterest's extensive collection, there's a vast variety of references for different fat body types that includes a lot more "everyday" people. The primary issue with Pinterest however is the rampant reposting and lack of proper credits for images, which can make things dicey depending on how you wish to use the references you find. For personal studies this isn't really an issue, but for any sort of professional or paid work is something to be aware of just for the sake of accountability.

* For those who are 18+, porn photography of real people also offers an incredible wealth of visual resources for fat bodies and how they interact with gravity/movement/etc. The variety of positions and angles offer many opportunities to study human anatomy, and it's a pretty well-known fact that drawing NSFW art can be an important learning experience for those struggling with drawing anatomy. In the end, it depends on your personal level of comfort with viewing/drawing explicit images, but it's not something you should completely overlook.

Last but not least, look at the work of artists you admire who draw fat people! While I typically recommend sticking to photo references for learning anatomy, studying artist's portrayals of fat people is also incredibly helpful for learning different tactics for simplifying and/or stylizing fat bodies to better fit ones own style. There are also plenty of artists who've crafted tutorials detailing their approach to drawing fat folks, so I highly recommend you check them out as well! I hope the resources I've linked here can help you in your studies, and feel free to drop another ask if you have any more questions! I'm planning on posting a tutorial on how I do studies for fat people soon, so that will be an additional resource for you once I've got it posted!

#artists on tumblr #beastiebites #asks #art resources #drawing fat people #thank you for the ask! lemme know if u have any more questions!#im working on drawing up a tutorial for another ask so that resource will also be available!#let me know if any of the links fail #tumblr is trying to kill them but i stay silly :3

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bbydoll18xx · 5 months

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I'll Be Your Temporary Fix

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Based on this request:

'Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).'

Word Count: 2.3k

I absolutely loved this request! There will be a second part posted in a few days.

Thanks for reading!

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

You look up from your camera as the sounds of an argument cut through the bouncing of basketballs and squeaking of sneakers against the floor of the gym.

Azzi and Paige are at it again.

This was not the first time you had seen them sniping at each other this past week, and sure it was concerning. They were best friends.

What could possibly be the issue?

Being the head of the media team for the women’s basketball team at UConn meant you had formed some very close friendships with the girls. Today, you were attempting to finish filming shots of this week's practices to post on Instagram. The new season was soon beginning, and it was crucial that the rest of the world was able to see what you saw in these girls. However, that was proving to be a challenge with the incessant bickering coming from Paige and Azzi.

“C’monnn, just please go ask her,” Azzi whines loudly, looking over in your direction. You frown, confused as to why their arguing would have anything to do with you.

“I can’t just ask her to do that. She’s too nice, and you know it’ll make her feel all weirded out!” Paige retorts, equally as loud.

They really were not subtle.

As practice ends, you put away your equipment, feeling Paige’s eyes on you. Looking up, you see Azzi retreating back in the direction of the locker room, with Paige slowly sauntering towards you looking nervous.

That was odd. Paige never really looks nervous. She was smug as hell, pretty much always. It was something you envied and admired.

“Good job today, P,” you say as she comes to stand in front of you, eliciting a broad grin that caused your belly to do several happy flips.

“Thanks, gotta have someone to show off for,” she responds with a wink and laugh. She continues after a beat, “Listen, I have a weird request and feel free to say no, but I kinda promised Azzi I would ask.”

You nod for her to continue, wondering what the blonde could possibly need from you.

“The fans are kinda obsessed with the idea that me and Azzi are in a relationship, and Azzi is super uncomfortable with it. She has a bit of a crush on one of the guys on the men’s team, and even he thinks we’re together.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the information, trying to process what she was saying.

“Okay…so how do I fit into all this?” you ask puzzledly.

Paige bites her bottom lip apprehensively, “well we thought maybe if the fans saw me with someone else, they’d forget about ‘Pazzi’.”

You look at her blankly. “Wait, me?” you ask. “You want to pretend to date me?”

“Only if you want to. We just thought it’d be a good idea. The fans love you, you’re actually gay, and you’re not exactly bad looking,” Paige mutters the last bit, causing you to turn a bright shade of pink.

This was certainly not a good idea. It was a terrible one.

You had harbored secret feelings for Paige since showing up day one with your camera and a head full of ideas.

Pretending to date Paige Bueckers was a surefire way to fall head over heels, and that was something you had spent a generous amount of time trying to avoid.

You sigh, going over the pros and cons in your head.

“Pleaseee,” Paige pouts, drawing out the syllables dramatically. “Ya know, you kinda owe me. I did introduce you to Steph Curry that one time…”

Your eyes narrow at that. She really decided to pull that card. “Fine,” you clip, in a way that was more hesitant than you actually felt.

Paige throws herself against you in a joyous hug, whooping loudly in your ear. You giggle at her antics.

“Thank you so, so much. I promise Imma be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had! Why don’t you come over tonight, and we can start planning,” she smirks excitedly.

You agree and go your separate ways, your stomach already rolling at the idea of doing anything romantic with the tall blonde.

Later, you walk towards the door to Paige’s apartment feeling thoroughly fucked. You had gone over every scenario in your head just about a million times since your conversation earlier. Your pessimistic disposition could not see this ending well.

The noise levels were alarming, and as you peered your head around the corner of the door, you saw multiple girls from the team lounging on Paige’s couch. They whoop as you make your presence known, feeling grateful for a buffer. Sure, you loved being alone with Paige, but the idea of having to feign intimacy was so foreign. You weren't sure if you were capable of that.

“She’s here, P,” Azzi shouts towards Paige’s bedroom door, causing her to quickly emerge with a shy smile.

“I hope you don't mind, but I figured we could go live with the girls tonight and get these rumors rolling,” Paige explains to you.

“Course not,” you respond breezily, wanting to keep up an air of indifference. You secretly hoped everyone else thought you were chill and not at all dying at the thought of people thinking you and Paige were together.

Azzi gets up from her spot to stand next to you. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s not going to bother you, is it? People talking about you?” She has the eyes of a puppy dog, and you immediately feel better agreeing to the scheme.

“Nah, nothing really bothers me,” you shrug noncommittally. ‘Except having to fake intimacy with the person I want most,’ you add in your head bitterly.

Considering it was Ice who was live the last time shit had gone down with Paige and Azzi, everyone thought it would be hilarious for her to do it once more. It was so fitting.

KK, Ice, and Azzi were sitting on the couch in the living room of the apartment, leaving you and Paige the small armchair in the corner. It felt like something out of a cheesy movie. The girls giggle as you realize that you both cannot comfortably sit side by side in the chair, your cheeks aflame once more as you put the pieces together in your head. Paige takes a seat first, basically manspreading, as she does, before patting her lap tantalizingly.

Shit.

Before you can protest, Paige is grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit down on your lap. Her muscular arms circle your waist in a way that has your pulse racing instantaneously. Despite her skinny build, she is so fucking comfortable, and she pulls you towards her chest, encouraging you to melt into her body. This had to look natural to work.

Satisfied with your positions, Paige gives Ice the green light to start the live with a nod.

“Hey y’all, what’s everyone up to?” Ice begins, giving you and Paige a sly nod. You struggle to hold back a snort at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

KK, Azzi, and Ice take turns answering questions, showing off the tiktok dances they’ve been practicing and being straight-up obnoxious. After 10 minutes of sitting on Paige’s lap, the lack of action was making you feel antsy. The unknown of what was coming was eating at your anxieties.

Suddenly, KK reads out ‘We wanna see Paige,’ causing her to dramatically flip the phone toward where the two of you were nestled together. Paige gives a wave, smiling smugly, as if she could see the faces of the fans already.

Feeling shy all of a sudden, you bury your face in Paige’s neck, trying to disappear from the camera and the hooting girls holding it. You try to ignore the way Paige lets out a tiny moan as your lips accidentally meet the pale, smooth skin. You think you’d spend the rest of your life wanting to pull that noise out of her lips again.

Ice grabs her phone back out of KK’s grasp and continues asking questions, as if nothing had happened. You let out a breath, and come up for air, looking around at the girls.

Azzi looks pleased, watching the comments carefully and gauging the reaction of Paige’s loyal, and extremely passionate, fans. Out of reach from the camera, she sends an enthusiastic thumbs up, signaling that the first phase of the plan was a success. You just didn’t realize how successful it would end up being.

Phase two was deemed ‘Project Bow Bow Bow’ by KK. You had protested, saying, “what the hell does that even mean?” KK had just shrugged, so you went along with it.

It was decided that you and Paige had to be seen in public together, showing considerable amounts of PDA. “Ya gotta really sell it,” the girls had said with a laugh. Again, you just went along with it, but the idea of people seeing you with someone so loved by the public terrified you. What if people thought you weren’t good enough for Paige?

Foregoing your usual bar, Paige decides a house party would be a more intimate place to delude the UConn students into your fake relationship. Trusting Paige to take the reins, you accompanied her into a colossal, and if you were being honest, ostentatious, house just outside of the university’s campus. Your eyes widened at the stately staircase, its grandeur diminished by the drunk students already perched upon it. The noise of the house pounded through your ears, almost distracting you from the way Paige had intertwined your fingers together, rubbing soothing circles onto the top of your small hand. It was blissful.

The tall blonde leads you past hoards of students through the house. You’re too busy avoiding the looks you’re earning to question how Paige knows her way around so well.

A tall and muscular guy bumps into you, causing you to stumble in the heeled boots you wore. Paige glares at the kid, eyebrows furrowing harshly, and removes her hand from yours to wrap protectively around your waist. She pulls you in, making sure you are fine before continuing to lead you into the kitchen.

“Want a drink?” Paige asks, leaning into you, struggling to converse over the pounding noise of the bass.

You nod, grateful to have something to dull your overwhelmed senses. Paige pours you a drink, making you wince at the amount of vodka that ends up in your cup. She holds the cup to your lips, encouraging you to tentatively sip the beverage. You welcome the burn that slides down your throat, settling into a warm pool in your belly that makes you feel more relaxed in seconds.

As the kitchen fills up with numerous people, all looking for refills, you and Paige take solace in a sitting area in a more closed off area of the house. You are pulled onto her lap once more, a wink reassuring you that everything was going to plan.

You talk over the noise of the party, faces close together. One of Paige’s hands settles on your inner thigh, almost possessively. She rubs slow, teasing circles onto the sensitive flesh, the pressure deepening in a way that had you holding back moans of pleasure.

“I-I gotta run to the backroom. Be back in a sec,” you stutter, feeling suddenly appreciative that the darkness of the party hides your blush. Before Paige can even respond, you shoot off her lap, and run to the bathroom.

It takes a few tries to actually find the bathroom, accidentally walking on several horny couples getting it on in random rooms. As you lock the bathroom door, you sigh and slide onto the floor, feeling overloaded with the fake intimacy. It had been awhile since you had dated anyone, and stress of it all was starting to get to you.

You had to get it together. Taking a few deep breaths and giving yourself a pep talk, you walk back out into the chaos of the party. As you find your way back to where you and Paige had been sitting, you see some girl talking to her. Jealousy settles into you, before remembering you had a role to play; you were actually allowed to stake your claim on Paige.

Walking up to the two girls, you plaster a sultry smile to your face and take a seat back on Paige’s lap as if it belonged to you. Paige’s eyes widened in surprise; this week she had initiated nearly every touch between you two. Little did you know, she was secretly very pleased at this new behavior, arms immediately wrapping around you once more.

Without saying anything, the girl rolls her eyes and walks away You try desperately to keep up the act of nonchalance; the smirk that crawls over your face ruins it real fast.

No one bothers you the rest of the night, but you continue your act. You play with her fingers and she traces patterns onto your thigh. And despite the commotion transpiring around the two of you, the entire world disappears.

Paige drops you back off at your apartment that night with bright blue eyes, hazy under the spell of intoxication, but she was drunk off of more than just the alcohol. She places a small kiss on your cheek, lips grazing the corner of your mouth before bidding you a good night.

You spend the whole night dreaming about it, over and over again.

*You can now read Part 2 and Part 3

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #paige #fake dating #fluff

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye.

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary.

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest.

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets.

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation.

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you.

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence.

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour.

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?”

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him.

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son.

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed.

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son.

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy.

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by.

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well.

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.”

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side.

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.”

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features.

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare.

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.”

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-”

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation.

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be.

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure.

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?”

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.”

“Pretty…. Mom, please.”

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.”

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right.

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him.

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat.

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her.

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank.

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently.

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute.

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?”

“Mom!”

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.”

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls.

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you.

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again.

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange.

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-”

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.”

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off.

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears.

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.”

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply.

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?”

“Yes.”

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?”

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-”

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him.

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?”

“You're serious?”

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.”

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face.

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.”

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?”

“Definitely.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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mrschtappen · 6 months

Text

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄

I : The Call of the Circuit -> II : Dreams Ignited (soon) -> III : Untitled (soon)

masterlist

Max Verstappen x Schumacher!reader

Synopsis: childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers....?

Monday, 10th December, 2018 Faenza, Italy

You sat alone at your new office, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen of your phone. The Twitter announcement you had posted earlier that day was still causing ripples across the internet, igniting a firestorm of reactions and responses from fans and followers around the world.

As you scrolled through the flood of comments, memes, and well-wishes flooding your feed, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The overwhelming wave of support and excitement from your supporters served as a poignant reminder of the incredible journey that lay ahead.

You made sure you turned off the lights of your new office when you were about to go. Settling inside your Audi R8, the soft chime from your phone took your attention away from driving.

As you read Max's message about bringing a Michael Schumacher merch from Germany, a wave of mixed emotions washed over you. The mention of your father's name, especially in connection with Germany, brought back vivid memories of the ski accident that had changed your lives forever in 2013.

your heart felt heavy, a subtle ache resurfacing as you recalled the challenging times that followed your father's accident. The uncertainty, the hope, and the unwavering support from loved ones, including Max, during those difficult years played like a reel in your mind.

Despite the pain and the bittersweet nostalgia, you weren't angry with Max for bringing up those memories. In fact, you felt a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and the comfort of your shared history. Max had been a pillar of strength and understanding throughout your journey, and his genuine care and friendship meant more to you than any merchandise ever could.

Sitting alone in your car, you took a moment to let the emotions wash over you. You reflected on your journey and the pivotal decision to join Formula 1, a deep sense of determination and purpose filled your heart. Since you were three years old, the dream of racing in F1 had been a beacon of hope and ambition, driving you to push boundaries and defy expectations.

You knew that stepping onto the track wasn't just about fulfilling your childhood dreams; it was also a tribute to your father and the legacy he had built. The memories of watching Michael Schumacher's triumphant moments, especially his 6th championship title, had ignited a spark within you, fueling her passion and commitment to chase after her own aspirations.

Despite the challenges and the weight of the past, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and pride. You knew that your journey was a testament to your resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you, including Max.

Sunday, 12th October, 2003 Suzuka, Japan

As a three-year-old, you may not have comprehended the complexity of Formula One racing, the excitement buzzing in the air, the infectious energy of the crowd through the grandstands. The vibrant colors of the racing cars zooming past, the deafening roar of engines, and the flashes of cameras captured your attention, painting a kaleidoscope of sensory impressions.

Although your understanding was limited at such a tender age, the sight of Michael Schumacher, dressed in his iconic red racing suit, elicited a sense of pride and admiration within your young heart.

"That's my dad !" your little fingers pointed at the red car zooming the finish line, practically screaming at everyone as you started clapping then.

The warmth of your mother's embrace welcomed you as you cheered together, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

your eyes wide with wonder as you watched your father bask in the spotlight and as Michael Schumacher descended from the podium, triumphant and beaming with joy, his eyes sought out you, your mother and your older brother Mick in the crowd. With a tender smile, he reached out to scoop up his young daughter, lifting you into his arms and hoisting you high above the crowd.

the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted into applause, you enjoyed the attention, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to be held in the arms of your racing hero.

The image of your bond captured for all to see, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever—a moment when you felt truly seen and cherished by the man who meant the world to you.

your dad, Michael Schumacher.

Saturday, 27th November 2003. Gland, Switzerland

you stepped onto the karting track for the very first time, your heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The whole family was there along with your dad's friend's family, the Vertsappens. With your tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of your go-kart, you were confused on how the whole kart operates.

"You've got this schatzi !" You heard your dad cheer for you from a distance, calling you a nickname that means sweetie in German.

Frustrated, you spoke

"How do I do this ?"

Max Verstappen, the seasoned six-year-old racer, flashed you a mischievous grin as he leaned over to offer his expertise.

"Watch and learn, little rookie. First, you gotta push down on the pedal like this..."

With a swift motion, Max demonstrated, his foot pressing down on the accelerator pedal with practiced ease. You watched intently, your eyes wide with fascination.

"Like this?"

you mimicked Max's actions, but your foot hesitated on the pedal, unsure of the right amount of pressure to apply.

Max chuckled, reaching over to gently guide your foot.

"Almost there, y/n ! You just need to press a little harder."

you nodded eagerly, determined to master the art of go-karting with Max's help.

"Got it! Thanks, Maxie !"

As you zip around the track, the conversation turned to your shared love for Formula One racing.

"Do you think we'll ever drive in Formula One, Max ?"

Max grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Of course! And when we do, I'll be the world champion, then Mick and you will be my trusty sidekicks."

you rolled her eyes playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Dream on, Max! I'll be the one leaving you in the dust!"

"Hey, you two ! How's it going ? " a familiar voice chimed in from behind you, causing both Max and you to turn around

Max grinned, giving Mick a playful nod.

"We're having a blast ! little rookie here is a natural behind the wheel."

you blushed at the praise from Max

"Thanks, Maxie ! And hey, Mick, I'm going to beat you someday !"

Mick laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Is that so ? Well, I look forward to the challenge ! Let's see who can get to formula one first"

Your banter filled the air with laughter as the three of you raced around the track, your friendship growing stronger with each passing lap. And as you crossed the finish line second, just a few millisecond behind Max, a smile grew wide on your face.

"Looks like you've got a prodigy, are you sure this is her first time ? She's a natural" Max's dad said, a chuckle escaped from your dad

You crossed the finish line just 4 tenths of a second later than someone who was 3 years older than you. You can feel the pride surging even when you were just so little.

"wow you're fast" your older brother said, giving you a high five as you returned it enthusiastically with a tiny jump

"yeah, not so bad little rookie !" Max also gave you a high five

you smile with your tiny teeths showing, your dad embraced you, lifting you up in the air

"my daughter is a soon to be formula one racer, and the world shall know you as for you are, not the daughter of a six time world champion but y/n Schumacher."

you couldn't help but feel grateful for everyone's guidance and support, knowing that with them by your side, you knew you were able to achieve anything.

Thursday, 14 March 2019 Melbourne, Australia ROUND ONE

As you took your first steps out to greet the fans, a wave of exhilaration and gratitude washed over you. The energy from the crowd was palpable, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and overwhelming support. The sight of fans waving flags, holding up banners, and wearing team colors was a surreal and heartwarming experience for you.

Walking along the barricades, you were met with a sea of merchandise bearing your name and face, along with the iconic Michael Schumacher memorabilia that fans had brought along. The presence of the Michael Schumacher merchandise added an extra layer of emotion to the moment, reminding you of the legacy you were a part of and the immense responsibility that came with it.

As you greeted fans, signing autographs and posing for photos, several fans couldn't help but comment on the striking resemblance between you and your legendary father, Michael Schumacher. Their kind words and compliments about your beauty and resemblance to your father filled you with a sense of pride and humility.

Amidst the flurry of interactions, one fan caught your attention with a cheeky remark that left both of you laughing.

you backed away with laughter, cupping your mouth, looking at a marriage certificate by an older fanboy, a good looking one you couldn't lie.

"I'm 19 !" You exclaimed, a wide laugh still visible on your face

"Maybe in a few years !" You joked, before moving to another fan, signing her cap with the number 57 on it, a number you chose to drive for.

It was media day today which means there's no driving and the press conference began with Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel of Ferrari, Daniel Ricciardo from Renault, Max Verstappen of Red Bull Racing and of course yourself, y/n Schumacher from Scuderia Toro Rosso.

"We’re gathered under very sad circumstances, following the news that Charlie Whiting, the FIA’s Director of Formula One died during the early hours of this morning. I’d like to start this press conference by asking each of the drivers present for their thoughts and memories of Charlie. Lewis, could we start with you, please?" Lewis spoke to the mic

"I’ve known Charlie since I started in 2007. I made some comments this morning on my Instagram. It may have not worked, as I think it’s down but obviously incredibly shocked this morning to hear the sad news and my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. What he did for this sport, I mean, his commitment… he really was a pillar, as Toto said, such an iconic figure in the sporting world and he contributed so much for us, so may he rest in peace."

as the other drivers stated their comments regarding the passing of the late Charlie Whiting, it was your turn to answer

"How about y/n ? I believe this has come to a big shock as well as your father was also racing when he was the f1 racing director ?"

"yes, my father raced during Charlie's tenure as F1 Racing Director. I've met Charlie a few times and found him to be a wonderful person. His dedication to safety and fairness in Formula One was unmatched. Charlie's ability to connect with everyone in the paddock and his unwavering passion for the sport made him irreplaceable. My thoughts are with his family, friends, and the entire FIA community during this tough time. His legacy in Formula One will always be remembered"

as they continued tho the next question, you were shocked as to how bold and daring for this male interviewer to ask the whole lot of drivers with you

"Given the whispers around the paddock about nepotism getting y/n Schumacher this seat due to her father's legacy, and considering she is the sole female on the grid, do you drivers genuinely believe she is as competent as the other drivers, or do you acknowledge a potential gap in her skill?"

As the interviewer's words cut through the tension of the room, your face tightened, a blend of disbelief and frustration clouding your features. The weight of the question bore down on you, amplifying your discomfort and vulnerability in that moment.

You felt exposed, the spotlight glaringly bright, intensifying the scrutiny you felt as the only female driver on the grid.

Sensing your discomfort, a subtle shift occurred amongst the drivers on the panel. Eyes darted towards you, expressions reflecting concern and empathy.

Among them, Max Verstappen's gaze lingered a moment longer, his usually confident demeanor softened by genuine concern for his fellow driver.

The collective silence that followed the question seemed to stretch on, the atmosphere thick with tension. But within you, a resilient fire ignited. Drawing strength from the supportive glances of your peers and your own unwavering determination, you steadied yourself. You would not let this moment define you or shake your belief in your own capabilities.

"could we start with you again Lewis ?"

Lewis's expression tightened, clearly upset by the nature of the question.

"Honestly, I find it disappointing that in this day and age, we're still having these discussions. Women have proven time and time again that they can compete at the highest levels of motorsport. I've been a staunch supporter of women in racing, and I've seen firsthand the talent and determination they bring to the track."

"Look, in Formula 1, everyone's path to the grid is different. Yes, some of us come from racing families or have certain connections, but ultimately, talent and hard work are what count. I've faced skepticism throughout my career for various reasons, and I've always chosen to let my performance on the track speak for itself. As for y/n, she's shown promise and skill in her journey to F1. The sport is better when we have diverse talents, and I believe she deserves her place here"

"Thank you for the answer, could we move on to Vettel next ?"

Vettel's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing indignation. "It's disappointing, really, to hear these questions. Every driver on this grid has earned their seat through dedication, hard work, and skill. Formula 1 is a tough environment, and to suggest that anyone is here purely because of their name or gender undermines the effort we all put in. I've met y/n and seen her commitment firsthand. She belongs here as much as anyone else."

Then they moved on to Danny. His jovial demeanor momentarily shifted as he heard the interviewer's pointed question directed at you. Being someone who often exudes positivity and fairness, Daniel values meritocracy and respects the grind every driver goes through to reach Formula 1. Hearing a fellow driver being questioned on the basis of nepotism and gender struck a chord with him.

"Ah, the old nepotism and gender card. It's not a new question in F1, but it's one that misses the mark. Sure, having a famous last name might open some doors initially, but it won't keep them open if you can't deliver on track. As for being the only female driver, I think it's about time we focus on skills and capabilities rather than gender. I've had the chance to get to know y/n, and she's got talent. End of story."

Then they moved on to Max, who is known for his fierce competitiveness and straightforwardness. It was clear that he was infuriated by the audacious implication and the discomfort it caused you.

Seeing you visibly uncomfortable only intensified Max's emotions. He felt a surge of protective anger, recognizing the unfair scrutiny and challenges you faced as the only female driver on the grid. In that moment, the friendship among drivers was evident, as Max's concern for your well-being was palpable.

His eyes flashed with fury as he seized the opportunity to address the interviewer's audacious question. His voice dripped with venom as he unleashed his pent-up frustration.

"Firstly, the audacity to question anyone's place on this grid based on gender or family name is just absolute garbage. She's earned her spot on this grid through sheer talent and hard work, just like the rest of us. Anyone who suggests otherwise is either blind or just plain ignorant."

His words were sharp and cutting, each syllable laced with disdain for the backward mindset behind the question. Max's aggression was palpable as he continued to tear down the baseless accusations.

"In case you missed it, Formula 1 is about racing, talent, dedication, and hard work, not gender or who your parents are. It's disappointing to still be facing these backward stereotypes in this day and age. We should be focusing on racing and the incredible talent we have on this grid, not trying to create controversy where there isn't any . For the record, I've raced alongside her, and I've known her my entire life. Y/n is an extraordinary racer through and through, and she's proven herself time and time again."

He paused, taking a breath to temper his rising emotions before continuing,

"So, how about we focus on the actual sport instead of dredging up this garbage ?"

Max's aggressive defence reverberated through the room, leaving no doubt as to where he stood on the matter and silencing any further attempts to undermine your place in the sport.

As you listened to Max's vehement defense, a mixture of emotions washed over you. Initially, there was a sense of relief and gratitude. Max's and the other drivers' unwavering support and fierce defence of you felt like a shield against the unfair scrutiny you had faced. It was reassuring to know that your fellow drivers stood your her and were willing to call out the injustice.

Your eyes briefly met Max's intense gaze, conveying a silent thank you and mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Then it was finally your turn to answer

With a poised demeanor, you addressed the room, your voice steady and confident.

"I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to my fellow drivers for their support. It speaks volumes about the fellowship and respect we share as competitors."

Pausing momentarily, you continued with a touch of irony,

"Regarding the questions raised about nepotism and being the only female on the grid, I was under the impression that Formula 1 valued skill, determination, and performance above all else. My presence here is a testament to my commitment, capability, and qualities I believe are fundamental to every driver on this grid."

Maintaining your composure, you added, "While these questions may have been posed, my focus remains unwaveringly on racing. I am here to compete, to challenge, and to succeed, just like every other driver. I look forward to letting my performance on the track speak for itself. Besides, I don't see 19 men ahead of me, I see 19 challenges to be conquered."

With this response, you gracefully but firmly addressed the issue, highlighting your professionalism and determination to rise above the noise and excel in your chosen profession.

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obsessedwithceleste · 6 months

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The Stages of Grief

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Prompt 5 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge🫶🏽

Summary: They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

word count: 6.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Denial

“Oh you’re kidding,” you groan as you finally spot your name on the list of assigned pairings for your next potions assignment.

You loved potions; in fact it was one of your favorite classes at Hogwarts, despite its demanding course work. You ironically found its rigid, methodical nature to be quite relaxing as moving step by step through the different recipes seemed to practically be second nature. It was a rhythmic dance that you followed religiously, finding thrill in the ever changing contents of your cauldron.

What you did not love however, or who you did not love to be more precise, was Lorenzo Berkshire. Flirtatious, carefree, and devilishly handsome, you were fairly certain that that boy could chat up a corpse. Or he could if he or his friends ever bothered showing up to class. It’s not that you disliked the boy per se, but to allow him onto your sacred ground? Into your sanctuary? You’d rather not.

Yet, there his name was, scrawled neatly next to yours on the board. It was like the universe had it out for you. Or your professor more likely.

“Tell me I read it wrong,” you complain turning to Daphne who was sat beside you.

The two of you had made an unlikely pairing in second year herbology and been inseparable ever since.

The girl just rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh come on, he’s really not as bad as you make him out be,” she sighs, scribbling notes from the board onto her parchment.

“Maybe not to you, but you’ve known him your whole life,” you grumble.

Personally, you’d always found the boy to be a bit of a prick. He was a pretty boy and he knew it, giving him a rather inflated ego you thought.

“Yeah, so don’t you think I might know him a bit better and perhaps be a better judge of character?” She asks.

“Maybe the professor will let me work alone.”

“Oh honestly, y/n. Look, at least he’s in class today. You’ll be fine, promise. And if he annoys you, even a little, I’ll owl his mother,” Daphne replies, not even bothering to look up from her notes. She was used to your dramatics by now.

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down,” your professor calls out, moving to stand at the front of the room before you can complain any further. “This next assignment will take course over the span of the next month or so, as you will be expected to collect some of your ingredients outside of class. So. Who can tell me a little bit about what this next potion that we’re brewing is?”

Your hand shoots into the air as soon as the question leaves your professor’s lips.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It doesn’t really create love though, but rather infatuation which makes it one of the most dangerous potions in the world,” you recite.

“Yes, yes! Very good, y/n! Five points!”

“Really if it’s so dangerous, I don’t see why they’re teaching a bunch of sixth years how to brew it,” Daphne mumbles to you under her breath.

You let out a snicker. She had a point.

You turn back to the front of the classroom, tuning back into the lesson as your professor begins scratching away on the chalkboard once more.

“The ingredients that you’ll need to gather are as follows. Two ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals. You’ll have the next two weeks to gather your ingredients with your partners, so I suggest you begin,” your professor announces.

You feel your shoulders wilt at the thought of purposely seeking out Lorenzo, but you can already feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Do you think if I ignore him long enough he’ll get the idea and just go away?” You whisper to your friend.

Daphne just rolls her eyes at you once more, shaking her head.

“Go,” she sighs, giving you a light shove in his direction before moving to join Theodore Nott at a different station.

With one last sigh of despair, you make your way over to the station where Enzo sits waiting for you, silently mourning your potions grade. And your mental and emotional stability.

“Mornin’ love,” he greets giving you a bright lopsided grin as you approach.

“Hi,” you respond dryly with a tight lipped smile.

“So, what’s our game plan going to be, darlin? I reckon we’ll want to get the hardest ingredients to come by first yeah?” He pushes on, ignoring your clear disinterest.

You nod your head in response.

“The peppermint, rose petals and thorns will be easy. We can get all of those in the greenhouse. The pearl dust- I assume we’ll need fresh pearls, we can probably get from the Black Lake.”

“Great. I think I have a moonstone in my ingredient collection. We can crush it down for the powdered moonstone,” Enzo offers.

You raise your brows at this. Moonstone wasn’t necessarily rare by any means, but you weren’t really expecting Enzo to offer up ingredients from his personal collection.

“That would work. We can also find them in the dark forest,” you reply.

“Nah, save us the hassle. Pretty girl like you doesn’t have any business in that musty old forest anyway,” he responds with a charming grin.

Ignoring his comment, you continue on to the last item on the list.

“I’m really not sure where we’re going to find those eggs. I don’t think we can find ashwinders on the school grounds, and they’re quite risky to breed.”

Enzo stares at you blankly.

“Remind me what an ashwinder is again love?” He says sheepishly.

“Magic serpent. Born from the embers of magic flames that are left to burn. You’re a Slytherin, shouldn’t you know all about snakes and such?”

“Yeah, let me recite to you the alphabetical list of all known magical serpent species that us Slytherins actually use as the password to our common room.”

You purse your lips at the boy’s obvious sarcasm.

“Fair enough. Still don’t know how we’ll get the eggs though.”

“I can see if we have any in our stores at the manor. Probably our best bet if we don’t want to risk burning down the school.” Enzo replies.

“Are you sure? We’re already using your moonstone,” you say, beginning to feel a bit bad about raiding the boy for supplies.

“It’s the least I can do really. I’m useless at potions, so least I can do is provide you with the ingredients that we need,” he says honestly with a light laugh.

“Well alright. Shall we meet up on Friday then to collect the pearls?” You ask, scribbling down your plans in your notebook.

“Sounds good, six o’clock? By the dock?”

You nod in agreement.

“Well alright then. See you then, love.” And with a grin and a cheeky wink thrown your way, Enzo is off.

At least he was pulling his weight in gathering ingredients you supposed.

Anger

“Y/n! Are you headed down to the docs?” Daphne asks slightly out of breath as she runs up to you from across the court yard.

“Yeah. Enzo tell you?”

Daphne nods her head in response as you two begin to make the short trek down to the lake.

“Hope you don’t mind if Theo and I join you?”

“Course not. Probably better that I’m not alone with Enzo by the lake anyway. Wouldn’t want him to try and drown me.” You say lightly, only slightly joking.

“Oh piss off. He’s a nice bloke once you get to know him.” Daphne laughs.

As the two of you arrive at the edge of the lake, you can already see Enzo, Theodore, and Mattheo splashing about in the water. Draco and Pansy are watching disdainfully from the shore.

You hadn’t realized this was going to be a whole party.

“Daph, please get these boys under control!” Pansy shouts when she sees the two of you approaching.

“I’m not their mum, they won’t listen to me,” Daphne replies dryly.

“Sure they will. Or at least Theo will, and the other two dimwits will follow whatever he does.” Pansy replies.

“Theodore!” Daphne shouts, turning to the three boys who were waist deep in the water by this point.

“Bella?” He calls back, visibly perking up at the sight of your friend.

You watch with amusement as Daphne points a finger at the boy and then again at the ground next to her. Theo slowly sulks over to the four of you, Mattheo and Enzo following in his wake.

“Really Theodore? You’re sopping wet,” Daphne sighs, only to be met with a sheepish grin.

“Hey love,” Enzo greets, prancing over to stand beside you.

It takes everything in you to focus anywhere but Enzo’s soaking wet shirt as it clung to his chest and abdomen like a second, very see-through skin. Bloody hell.

“Hi Enzo,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure we’ll even find pearls here? I thought pearls were from the ocean, and I don’t want to risk getting wet for nothing,” Draco says, eyeing the lake warily.

“Hogwarts a History says that fresh water pearls are common in the Black Lake,” you reply.

“What’s the difference?”

“Saltwater pearls are generally rarer, more expensive.” Pansy replies easily.

“Fresh water mussels can produce multiple pearls at a time, but oysters generally only produce a single pearl in their entire lifetime,” you explain.

“So how exactly are we going to collect these mussels?” Theo asks.

“Accio.” Daphne responds, as if it should’ve been obvious. Which it was.

Your now rather large group makes it way onto the dock, squinting into the murky water for any trace of mussels in the sand below.

Daphne finds the first one, and after that, they slowly start pouring in. Eventually, there’s a sort of system in place with you, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco scanning the dark waves for the elusive mussels, while Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo crack them open to retrieve the pearls.

It’s all going swimmingly until the boys begin to get rowdy once more, with Mattheo sending a small wave of water at Enzo when his back is turned. Daphne gives the boys several warning glares as the waves gradually grow larger, only for them to start up again the moment your backs are turned.

Eventually it turns into an all out water war between the three of them once more, and you scowl as you feel a splash of water hit your leg.

Could they not cause a ruckus for one afternoon? You thought bitterly as another mussel flew into your hand. You go to place it in the pile with the others when you feel a weight hit you like a ton of bricks. Then cold. Everything is cold as you feel yourself hit the water.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim once your head breaks the surface and you frantically wipe water from your eyes.

You look over to see Lorenzo in the water near you, a grin plastered across his face. His smile quickly fades however when he sees the pure murderous intent in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, swimming over to him, and shoving him under the waves.

“Y/n! You can’t drown him!” Daphne yells from the dock.

“Watch me!”

“It was an accident, swear!” Enzo gasps when his head re-emerges once more.

With one last scream of rage, you make your way to land as Daphne runs to catch up with you.

“Seriously Daphne? What is wrong with him?” You rage as you storm up the hill back to the castle.

“I really don’t think he meant for you to get shoved into the lake. The boys can get pretty tunnel visioned,” Daphne offers as she follows behind.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who went for a swim,” you mutter between chattering teeth, the cold really beginning to sink in.

“Oh I’m not defending him. Not completely I mean. He was totally acting like a right git. The other boys too. I don’t blame you for being upset, I would be too. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be too hard on him? It was an accident after all, and he really did look sorry.”

When you only shrug in response, Daphne sighs.

“Look. Give him one last chance, and if you still think he’s the worst person on earth, at least exploit the fact that he really does feel bad, and milk it for all he’s worth. Okay?”

You let out a smile at this.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, Daph.”

Bargaining

The following Monday when you take your seat next to Lorenzo in potions, he immediately turns his head, almost like he’s surprised you hadn’t demanded to be reassigned partners.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t mean for you to end up in the lake, Theo just shoved me and I grabbed on the closest thing which happened to be you. I really am sorry,” he rambles, fiddling with the quill in his hand nervously.

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident, so let’s just move on, alright?” You say with a sigh.

Maybe if the both of you just moved on, this nightmare of a pairing would be over sooner.

“Really?” Lorenzo asks, his bright personality snapping back into place.

“Sure Enzo.”

“Excellent. Because I was able to get us these,” he says proudly, carefully pulling two little eggs and a medium sized moonstone out of his bag. “Oh, and the pearls.” He adds, placing the eggs, stone, and glass container filled with pearls on the table in front of you.

You eye the ingredients carefully before determining that they were in fact all up to standard.

“Perfect. I’ll begin crushing up the pearls, if you take care of the moonstone?” You say, already pouring the shiny orbs into your mortar and pestle.

The two of you work surprisingly well together for the rest of the class period, almost as if you’d been working together for years. It takes you by surprise how easy the brown haired boy is to work with. You hadn’t been expecting much, knowing that potions wasn’t Enzo’s strong suit. But he made up for it by making sure you never wanted for anything. Needed a vial for your pearl dust? It was in your hands before you even had to ask. A fire needed to be lit beneath the ashwinder eggs to keep them from spoiling? Enzo’s wand was pointed in their direction before you had the chance to open your mouth.

As class winds down and you go to make your exit, you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Y/n?” Enzo says, stopping you. You turn to look at the boy.

“Look uh, I know that you’re not my biggest fan, or at least that’s what I gathered from Daph,” he begins to ramble, scratching the back of his neck, “but, could we maybe like, just start over?”

You’re a bit skeptical at first, but seeing his nervous smile melts something in you. Being friendly couldn’t hurt, you reasoned. And it would certainly make working with the boy easier.

“Alright, Enzo, we can start over.”

“Wicked.” He says with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d like to meet in the greenhouse later then to gather the rest of our ingredients? Promise I won’t drag Theo and Matt along this time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The both of you agree to meet right after classes are released that day, and as you make your way down the cobblestone path to the greenhouse, you can’t seem to push the memories of wet hair and an infectious smile from your thoughts.

“Hi love!” Enzo calls out as soon as you push open the doors of the greenhouse. The boy is elbows deep in soil, pulling at the roots of a suspiciously pink colored plant.

“How’d you get here so fast?” you ask, glancing at the clock to see that classes had ended not even ten minutes ago.

“Herbology is my last class of the day,” he explains, brushing some of the dirt off his gloves.

“Ah. So you wanted to meet right after classes ended so you wouldn’t have to make the trek back out here?” You ask, fingertips brushing the soft petals of one of the many flowering plants growing within the greenhouse.

“Well, and I wanted to see you again sooner,” he replies with a shrug and a cheeky grin.

You roll you eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen.

“So where are the rose bushes?” You ask, looking around at the distinct lack of roses within the building.

Enzo gives a nervous chuckle. “About that. Apparently Professor Sprout didn’t think that the common rose was, ah, dangerous enough, for her plant collection,” Enzo says, gesturing towards the various plants, “so, uh, there are none. But! We can grow them pretty easily. It might take a week or two to grow a full bush to peak maturity, but it should be fine.”

You let out a sigh. Of course Hogwarts wouldn’t grow something as simple and common as a rose.

“Alright, well. Let’s begin I suppose.”

Enzo immediately perks up as he goes to fetch a large pot and a bag of soil and you begin to rifle through the cabinets to find rose seeds. After several minutes with no success, you feel a warm presence behind you as Enzo leans over your shoulder and plucks a packet off the top shelf.

“You certainly know your way around,” you murmur, looking up to find the boy’s face much closer than anticipated. You feel heat rise to your cheeks once more and you duck under is elbow, making your escape.

“Herbology is my best subject,” Enzo says, trailing behind you.

“Ah, so you’re the Slytherin version of Neville Longbottom then eh?” You say with a grin as you watch him fill the pot with soil.

Enzo grimaces, making a face.

“No, I’m much better looking,” he says with a smirk.

Bloody self-aware bastard.

It only takes a few minutes for Enzo to bury the seeds in the soil and place several incantations over the dirt before he looks up at you with a triumphant grin.

“All good to go,” he says happily. “Though we should probably check back in daily to refresh the enchantments and such.”

You nod your head at the boy.

Over the course of the next few days, Enzo uses your time spent together to pick your brain for any morsel of information he could get out of you. He really was determined to be your friend apparently.

“What’s your favorite plant?” He asks you on the third day of your little meetings.

You tilt your head a bit in consideration.

“No, no, wait, I bet I can guess. Is it peonies? Your perfume is peony scented right?” He asks.

“Yeah, it is. Peony and vanilla,” you say, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Knew it,” he says, looking rather self satisfied.

“And yours?” You ask, leaning against the table to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite flower? Or plant that is.”

Enzo pauses for a moment, eyes flickering around the greenhouse for a moment before landing on you.

“I like roses.”

“Really?” You say, scrunching your nose a bit.

“I’m a romantic, what can I say?”

“Gross. That’s so cliche.” You tease, a small smile gracing your face.

As the days go on, your time spent in the greenhouse becomes longer and longer as you and Lorenzo banter about the ridiculous questions he’d come up with. Did owls have knees? Which house would win in hand to hand combat? Were Theodore and Daphne secretly hooking up in the fifth floor prefect’s bathroom? (The answer was yes.)

You were shocked to find that, while still a bit of a prat, Enzo really was rather smart and witty. As the days went on, it became easier and easier to open up to the boy until the two of you were talking like old friends.

It happened slowly. You really didn’t even notice at first. But by the second week, you found yourself looking forward to your daily meetings, and found yourself thinking of the handsome brunette when he wasn’t around, and you caught yourself staring at the boy a bit too long after he’d already looked away.

Over the years of being friends with Daph, you’d often been forced into the proximity of the boy. Always noting the way he’d easily move from one witch to the next, his charm never seeming to fail him. You had been so determined to make sure that you would never be one of those witches. Just another tally on Lorenzo’s ever growing list of conquests.

But it had happened. The unimaginable. The impossible. You were falling for Lorenzo Berkshire. No, this simply wouldn’t do you thought to yourself as you made the familiar trek to the greenhouse.

Your mind raced as you thought of ways to stop this madness. Maybe if you went back to pushing the boy away. Or if you just ignored him. Yes. If you just shut him out, these feelings would go away.

Sarcasm

The next several days for Lorenzo were miserable. And that was putting it nicely.

“She hates me!” Enzo wailed dramatically, hanging upside down off the edge of his bed.

It had been three days since your terrifying revelation in the green house, and Enzo was very convinced that he was going insane.

He could still remember clearly the day that Daphne had introduced him to her new friend after one fateful day in herbology. You had been so wicked smart, and kind, and funny, and your smile had melted his heart. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with you ever since. But he was lucky if you even acknowledged his presence most days.

“Can you blame her? Didn’t you send a flock of peacocks after her when we were all visiting Draco’s last year?” Mattheo asks, squinting at his friend.

“I thought it’d be romantic! How was I supposed to know they weren’t friendly?”

“There’s also that time in third year, you knocked her off her broom playing quidditch.” Draco adds, scowling at the memory of Enzo harassing the birds on his family’s property.

“I caught her after!” Enzo protests.

“She still sprained her wrist.”

“Oh yea. And then you tried to give her a kiss as an apology, but ended up with a nice bruise on your jaw instead,” Mattheo laughs.

Lorenzo wasn't going to lie, that was a particular sore spot for him.

“And let’s of course not forget the most recent offense. Trying to drown her in the lake. Thank Salazar I wasn’t there for that scene.” Blaise mutters.

Enzo winces.

After the incident at the lake, Enzo was sure he was done for. The look of pure rage in your eyes had felt as though you had stomped on his heart, and then cruciod it for good measure. But then you had accepted his apology and even agreed to start things over. Enzo had felt the first real burst of hope after four pitiful years of pining.

Sure he’d made some missteps over the years. As his friends so graciously enjoyed reminding him, but he meant well!

The two of you had talked. Laughed. He’d even allowed his hand to brush up against yours a time or two, delighted when you didn’t flinch away.

And then, as if the switch had flipped, it was back how it had been before. Enzo felt like he had whiplash with the way you had turned right back around to treating him like a total stranger.

Theo eyed his roommate with concern.

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than you pining over Daphne,” Mattheo mutters, jabbing an elbow into Theo’s rib cage, earning him a sharp glare.

“I don’t understand! Things were going so well! She was actually talking to me and everything, and now it’s like I’m right back at square one,” Enzo sighs, ignoring his bickering roommates.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from us mate. You’re supposed to be the romantic one of the group. Though with your track record, I’m not sure why we’ve been taking your advice all these years. You’re a wreck.” Blaise says, matter of factly.

“You tried talking to Daph bout it?” Theo asks, not quite sure how to help his slightly delirious friend.

“Ask me about what?” Daphne asks, seemingly materializing in the doorway of the boys’ shared dormitory.

She makes her way into the room, face morphing into one of both concern and disgust as she takes in Enzo's distraught state.

Theo eyes his friend, as if to say “good luck mate.”

Dragging himself into an upright position, Enzo considers the girl in front of him. How had he not thought of it before? Y/n’s best friend had been at his disposal this entire time, and he’d never thought to simply ask her.

Lorenzo turns to look at Daphne.

“Daph?”

“Yes Enz?”

“Does y/n fancy anyone?” He asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Daphne raises a brow.

“If you’re trying to subtly ask if I happened to know of her feelings towards you, you’re doing a lousy job."

Enzo pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and honestly looking quite pathetic.

"For Salazar's sake, what happened?" Daphne huffs, making herself comfortable on Theo's bed, much to his delight.

“Enzo is down bad. Obviously.” Mattheo states.

Daphne shoots the boy a glare, rolling her eyes at the curly haired boy.

"We've been working in the green house together, and I thought things were going so well. She was talking to me, and laughing and everything.” Enzo says, falling back into his bed dramatically.

“Well then what’s the problem? You like her I thought.” Daphne replies with an annoyed huff.

“That’s just it isn’t it? It wasn’t a problem. But then suddenly, a few days ago, she went completely cold again. Like the last couple weeks never happened." he laments.

Daphne opens her mouth. Then closes it, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of- she loved you. Truly she did. But you were going to be the end of her.

“I’ll take care of this.” She announces, promptly rising from the bed just as Theo was about to sneak an arm around her.

He glowers at Enzo who gives him an apologetic grin.

Daphne had been your best friend for years at this point, and most of the time, she was convinced that she knew you better than you knew yourself. She wasn't blind. Or dumb for that matter. She knew that there were some strong feelings between you and Enzo, though she had never really bothered to figure out if they were positive or negative. Clearly she should've and all of this could have been avoided she thought wistfully to herself. At least this explained the strange tension between the two of you as of late.

“Y/n.” Daphne huffs, sitting next to you on a bench in the court yard.

“Daph,” you greet, looking up from your book.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fancy Lorenzo?” She asks, staring you dead in the eye.

You feel your mouth gape like a fish out of water.

“Right Daph. Like I’d ever fancy that peacock.” You reply, doing your best to appear disdainful.

“Don’t you get an attitude with me.” Daphne responds. She’d always been able to see right through you. “Enzo told me everything. The chatting. The giggling. The immediate turn around as if nothing had happened. Textbook case of realizing you like someone while being emotionally constipated!” Daphne announces.

“Shhh!” You hush your friend, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the scene. “You know that being mean and sarcastic is my only defense mechanism!” You hiss.

“Oh honestly y/n. We both know you won't be able to use that excuse forever.” Daphne says with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, he likes you too. Why do you think he’s always preening when you’re around. He’s trying to impress you, you dolt.”

“Fantastic. He’s only a prat when I’m around. How romantic,” you mutter.

“Well you certainly didn’t think he was being a prat when you were spending all that time in the green house together. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two disappearing for several hours. No one is spending that much time every day looking at flowers.”

“We were just talking,” you defend.

“Mmhm. And then you stopped talking because you got scared and now Enzo is a wreck.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant to hurt Enzo. You hadn’t thought that he actually might like you too.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow in class, I guess,” you mutter.

Daphne sighs.

“Look. I’m not saying that you have to date him, or even tell him you like him. But you’re both my friends, and I don’t like seeing either of you upset.”

“I know Daph. I’m just confused is all. I thought I hated him.”

“Well, I’ve always been told that the line between love and hate is fine.” Daphne replies.

Bloody hell, when had your friend become this philosophic?

“I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Promise.” You tell her.

Daphne nods, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good. And word of advice. Drop the sarcasm, Enz might cry if you put him through anymore emotional whiplash.”

Acceptance

You sat nervously in the potions classroom having arrived close to fifteen minutes early as you couldn’t shake away your nerves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, your classmates should start filing in at any moment.

You’d finally managed to gather all the need ingredients for your potion, so today would be the day that you and Enzo would be able to brew your amortentia.

Your fingers twirled the stems of the roses you’d collected mindlessly as your thoughts buzzed between your conversation yesterday with Daphne, and the fluffy haired brunette boy that had taken up permanent residency in your every thought.

Remembering the silly game one of your roommates had played years ago, you began plucking the rose petals off of the stem, one by one. You were going to have to do it eventually anyway. He loves me, he loves me not, the phrase repeats in your mind.

“Look nervous,” A voice comments from behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts, you look up just in time to see Enzo take his seat beside you.

Clearing your throat, you give the boy a small smile.

“Just thinking about the potion. Not going to be an easy one to brew today, and I’d like to get a good mark,” you reply.

“Of course.” Enzo replies, a strained look on his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time then.”

You open your mouth to reply, but close it again when no words come to mind. Instead, you opt to sweep your rose petals into a small pile and begin shaving off the rose thorns as Enzo wordlessly takes out the gold cauldron, lighting a fire beneath.

“So,” you say awkwardly, the deafening silence finally getting to you. “How bout that weather?”

You hear a clatter as Enzo drops pestle he was holding to look at you incredulously.

“I know some of my conversation attempts were bad, but that was downright criminal.” He says with a snort.

Unable to hold back your laughter, you let out a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll see myself to Azkaban for that one.”

And just like that, the two of you fall back into your comfortable rhythm of idle chatter, jokes, bickering as you work seamlessly together.

You can’t help but watch with silent admiration as Enzo dutifully stirs the cauldron, careful to keep even counter clockwise strokes. A few tendrils of soft brown hair fall in front of the boy’s face and he gently blows them to the side with an annoyed puff.

“Pearl dust?” He asks, reaching his hand out.

As you hand him the vial, your fingertips brush softly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. The heat from the cauldron must be really getting to you.

“If you just want to add the powdered moonstone, we should be all done,” Enzo says after a moment, taking a step back to allow you to complete the final step.

Slowly, you approach the boiling cauldron, carefully sprinkling in your meticulously measured moonstone powder. You stir the concoction a bit longer until you see a familiar pearlescent sheen and swirling tendrils of steam.

“Think we’ve done it,” you say with a smile, looking over at your partner.

He grins back, joining you in leaning over the steaming cauldron.

“Well? What do you smell?” He asks cheekily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“We both take a wiff? On three?” Enzo asks.

You nod in agreement, watching the swirling colors within the cauldron. They say that amortentia smells like the things you’re most attracted to, and you’d always been curious what scents the potion would elicit for you.

“One, two, three.”

You lean in, and immediately you’re hit with the earthy scent of fresh soil, a soft hint of rose, and something else- oh. Oh. You feel your eyes widen.

“Peony. And vanilla.” Enzo murmurs, head still hovering above the cauldron before he turns to look at you.

The moment your eyes meet, you both know.

“I need a moment,” you mumble, hurrying out of the classroom.

As you rush past Daphne’s table, you hear the girl run after you into the corridor.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Daphne asks as the two of you come to a stop in a small alcove that’s somewhat hidden behind one of the many large stone statues that decorate the halls.

“It’s Lorenzo. My potion- it smells like Lorenzo. Or, it smells like fresh soil, and roses, and that stupid expensive cologne that he always wears,” you gasp, out of breath.

“Oh? And what did he smell?”

“Me. My perfume. Peonies and vanilla.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it? That you both smelled each other? I know when we talked yesterday I said you don’t necessarily have to tell the boy you fancy him, but, if you both really like each other that much. What’s the harm?” Daphne tries to reason.

“I don’t know! I just didn’t realize I liked him that much and it freaked me out. And I’ve been icing him out these past couple days, so he’s probably so cross with me. But he’s been so nice today, I don’t know what to do Daph. I’m not good with feelings. I was never going to act on anything!”

“Is that why you did all that? Back there?” A voice asks. “And why you’ve been acting strange the past several days?”

The two of you whip around to see Enzo staring wide eyed at the both of you, mouth slightly agape.

“I think I’d best let the two of you sort this out,” Daphne says, slipping out of the alcove and back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t meant to hear any of that,” you start as Enzo wordlessly approaches.

“You like me?” He asks once he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He looks genuinely surprised at the notion as he stares down at you intensely.

You nod slowly. “Smelled you in that bloody potion,” you mumble.

Enzo’s smile falls.

“Is it that bad? Liking me?” He asks, hurt written across his face.

“No! No it’s not! I just thought I didn’t like you- no, that’s not what I meant. I was surprised that I fancied you is all, and didn’t know what to do. Because we’ve know each other so long, and we haven’t necessarily always gotten along. And I didn’t really realize I liked you at first, and I got all freaked out and then I panicked, and-“

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” Enzo asks, interrupting your rambling.

You freeze, looking up at the boy in front of you.

“Yes please,” you murmur.

Without wasting another moment, Enzo’s lips meet yours with a hunger and passion you didn’t realize the boy had in him.

Any last trace of doubt or worry you had disappears as his soft lips move against yours, melting you into him like putty in his hands.

Right as you’re about to run out of air, you feel Enzo’s lips trail off to your cheek, placing gentle kisses as he trails down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“Enz,” you mumble softly as you feel the warm, sucking sensation against your skin in the crook of your neck.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips meeting yours once more.

You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation as he moves against you until Daphne’s voice brings you back to reality once more.

“Just so you’re both aware, we are still in class,” she calls from around the corner.

You feel your cheeks heat up as Enzo lets out a soft laugh above you.

“Rest assured love, we will be coming back to this later,” he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and leading you back into the classroom.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ll take any excuse to write a cheesy amortentia fic🤪

Special thanks to @finalgirllx and @pizzaapeteer for editing and rvwing🫶🏽

#hogmarch challenge #slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #matteo riddle #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #Enzo Berkshire x y/n #daphne greengrass #pansy parkinson #amortentia #mattheo riddle #theo nott

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year

Text

Blue Jeans

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: request from @agent-dessis-posts - leon is looking extra fine in his jeans and when he gets out of the shower. you can't help if you stare... and maybe do a little more. i hope you enjoy!! (sorry i couldn't find a pic of him in jeans for the header)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v

word count: 2k

a/n: hello fantasizers! (that's what i'm calling you guys now cause i am delusional) back again! thank you all for encouraging my flip phone delusions on my last post. this post is a request. if you sent me a request, know that i am working on it as fast as i can. just be patient with me pretty please :) as always i'm giving you 1000 smooches for your reblogs or comments (they really make me smile and laugh so tysm) <3

Leon looked extra good today. You didn’t think he did anything different to his look this morning, but something about him was hitting you just right today. It was like you couldn’t help but stare at him since he had come home from work. You were trying to get some of your own work done on your laptop at the dining table, but he was unknowingly making that a challenge for you.

He was reclined on the couch, sprawled across it with his arms behind his head, half-paying attention to whatever was playing on the tv. His thick biceps emerged from his tight white t-shirt and framed his face. The thin fabric did little to hide the definition of his toned abdomen and chest.

Your eyes trailed down his body from your place across the room, settling on his jeans. The way he filled them out was driving you a special kind of crazy today. His muscular thighs wrapped tight in that blue denim. You feel like you can practically see the outline of his dick against the material. Soon, he starts to sit up and you avert your eyes back to your screen.

Leon walks over to the kitchen, seemingly unaware of your ogling. He has his back to you while he surveys the fridge for a snack. You try not to drool as you continue to gawk at him. The muscles of his back were all but visible through that white shirt. But even better than that, your favorite part, his ass. Looking like it was sculpted by an actual god, you had to stop yourself from openly salivating over your boyfriend standing just a few feet away from you.

He turns around, again snapping you out of your lustful daze. This time, he catches it though. A slight smirk appears on his face.

“You know, honey, I could just give you a picture. You could clip it to your laptop, so that way you can at least pretend you’re working,” he says. So he had noticed.

“Oh shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “Like you don’t want the attention. You’re laid up like a fucking Calvin Klein ad.”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy it,” he says, his smirk growing as he walks to you. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your shoulder in a way he knows will work you up.

You look up at him, half-unamused, half-needy. You wrap your arms around his waist from where you sit, sliding a hand beneath his t-shirt to feel his skin.

“Maybe, you could give me some attention in return. Might help me focus,” you suggest as you drag your nails lightly over his side.

“Nope, you’ve got to finish your work, and I’m going to shower,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you say before pinching his side and snaking your hand out of his shirt.

He lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “Be good while I’m gone,” he teases.

“Mhm,” you hum. As he begins walking away, you smack his ass, your hand making a muffled clap against the denim-covered flesh.

He turns his head, also trying to seem unamused now, but you can see the love in his eyes. You smile innocently at him.

“Mhm,” he repeats sarcastically.

“I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go,” you tease as he exits the room.

It isn’t long before you hear the shower turning on in the master bathroom. It takes a minute, but with him out of the room, you’re able to focus enough to get a substantial amount of work done. You’re clacking away at your keyboard, lost in thought, not really noticing how much time has passed or that the shower has shut off.

Your concentration is shattered, however, when your personal work of art himself comes strolling past you into the kitchen with nothing on but a towel around his waist. It seemed like he was glistening, every muscle shimmering in the aftermath of his shower. The towel hung low on his waist, accentuating his v-line and exposing his happy trail. The smell of his shampoo engulfs you as he struts by without giving you a second look.

Internally, you felt like a cartoon character with your jaw dropped and tongue rolled out, an outline of your heart beating against your shirt. You try to keep it cool though and not let on how desperately you want him right now.

“Really?” you ask incredulously, “That’s how you wanna play?”

“Am I not allowed to walk through my own living room now because it distracts you?” he asks, “I know I’m pretty babe, but c’mon.”

You can hear that teasing lilt in his voice and it’s just stoking the flames of arousal inside you more. You close your laptop and stand up. Coming up behind Leon, you lace your arms around his waist and press your cheek to the warm skin of his back.

“You’re very pretty,” you agree, “My beautiful guy. Who’s also an attention whore.”

“I’m an attention whore for existing in your vicinity?” he asks, turning around in your hold so that he’s facing you. He returns the embrace and rubs your back with his thumb.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, you’re my attention whore,” you coo and squeeze your arms around him.

“I guess that’s ok then…” he says as he tilts your chin up and connects your lips in a soft kiss.

You return the affection, your need pouring through your actions. His scent overwhelmed you in such close proximity. You move your mouth with his while your hands glide down to his waist. A couple of your fingers slip beneath his towel, gently tugging it loose. The cloth starts to fall from his hips, but he catches the center, holding it so it still covers his length.

You break from kissing for a moment to catch your breath and take in the sight before you. The gray towel hanging between his legs, leaving his thighs and and hips exposed. You look him up and down, and your hands lower to his ass to feel up the muscles there.

“Like what you see?” he murmurs as you make out.

“Mhm,” you hum, not moving your lips away from his long enough to speak.

He backs the two of you up toward the counter, spins you around, and bends you over the cool marble. You feel both of his hands gripping your hips and the towel now crumpled on the floor against your ankle. He then slides his palms over your ass, kneading the flesh before giving it a firm smack. Sliding himself between your legs, he rubs his semi-hard cock against you over your shorts.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he breathes, his voice raspier as he rocks his hips back and forth, “This what got you so hot when you’re supposed to be working?”

“What can I say? You’re irresistible,” you tease, but it comes out more as more of a moan than you intend.

“Cute,” he chuckles before pulling down your shorts and panties, letting them fall to the floor with his towel.

He drags his tip up and down your folds, teasing you as the head nudges your clit. You’re gripping the edge of the countertop as a whine falls from your lips.

“Baby, no more teasing,” you whimper.

“My eager girl. So impatient,” he says as he finally pushes himself inside of you.

You had been trying to think of a reply, but your thoughts get hazy as his cock fills you. You groan, and your head falls forward to rest against the smooth tile. That doesn’t last long because Leon’s hand is in your hair a second later, lifting your head back up and turning it slightly to face him.

“C’mon sweet girl, you were staring so much, now you can’t even keep your head up?” he grunts as he pumps in and out.

You whine and nod, letting his grip support the weight of your head. He smacks your ass again in time with a deep thrust and a strangled moan falls from your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes flutter.

“That’s right, baby. Let me clear that pretty little head so you can work. Can’t think straight unless you’ve had me inside you, yeah? It’s all you care about till you’ve had your fill,” he rasps and grips your hips harder.

His eyes roll back momentarily as your walls squeeze around him once his words sink in. You pulse and feel the hot coils of pleasure tightening in your stomach. He lets out what sounds like a growl at the feeling. The sounds of your skin meeting his fills the room as he picks up the pace.

“Getting close, angel?” he says and pulls you closer by your hair. Your back is arching and you straighten your arms to support yourself upright. You hear his heavy breathing directly in your ear and feel the hot air fanning your skin.

You frantically nod in response to the question.

“Well, not yet baby,” he says and pulls out of you. You whine, about to complain, but he turns you around and boosts you onto the counter. He slides back in with a groan. “No, none of that. Just wanna see that beautiful face when you cum.”

The new angle has him battering your sweet spots with renewed vigor. He’s got one set of fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh, holding it up so he has room to work his hips for you. His other arm is wrapped around you and supporting your position.

You’re breathlessly whimpering, one leg wrapped around his waist and a hand in his hair. Your skin felt hot against his while the counter felt cool on your ass, especially after you felt the sting of his hand there a few times.

You were already close in the previous position, so you’re barely able to hold it together now. He can tell from the way you’re wildly fluttering around him. Your breathing becomes more like gasps as you approach that familiar edge. His hand on your back slides up to your head and pulls you closer so that his face is in the crook of your neck when he lets out a primal sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a growl.

“You there, honey?” he asks against your skin.

“Mhm,” you hum immediately, nodding again.

“Me too, baby. Let go for me. Squeeze me nice and tight, just like that,” he says, his voice strained and breaking off into a whimper at the end.

You shudder against him and gasp before letting out a long, low moan as you cum. Your body twitches and your head tilts back slightly. He presses some sloppy kisses to your neck before grunting and biting his lip, a choked sound of pleasure emanating from his throat.

His hips sputter and his thrusts lose rhythm as he releases too. You feel his hot, thick cum flooding your insides, the sensation making you tremble with satisfaction. His fingers press hard against your skin while his forehead rests on your shoulder. You feel his ragged breathing on your skin. It’s slightly cool from the light sheen of sweat you’d worked up.

The two of you take a second to catch your breath before disconnecting and untangling your bodies.

“You feeling better now? Less distracted?” he teases, brushing some hair from your face and kissing your forehead.

“Mmm, yeah, but I think I have to take a shower now too,” you say with a grin. You peck his lips in return and then hop off the counter and playfully smacking his ass again.

“I don’t know. You still seem to have something else on your mind,” he says, his own smug smile returning, “I didn’t think my girl would be satisfied after one round. Maybe a few more and then I’ll join you for another shower.”

“I think I like your plan better,” you say as he grabs your wrist and pulls you off to the bedroom.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine

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saistappen · 7 months

Text

Mariquita | CS55

In which Carlos' appendectomy triggers a huge emotional chaos in you and makes you realise just how big your feelings for the Spaniard actually are

In which your concern for Carlos clearly shows the Spaniard that you probably feel the same way about him as he does about you

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The last few days have been pure confusion. You could clearly feel this at Ferrari.

After Carlos' appendicitis was announced, on which he had to undergo surgery, the young Briton Olli Bearman was brought in to replace Carlos and chaos began to reign in the team.

Some things had to be changed, such as the adjustment of the seat, as well as various other things up to the well-known gift in the social media.

The hustle and bustle could be clearly felt throughout the team. But the excitement was not just for the young 18-year-old Brit, but also for the Spaniard. Because most of the time, the team's thoughts were on Carlos, who should soon have the operation behind him.

" Have you finished the Instagram post yet? " Lucy asked me as she sat down at the table opposite me.

" Uhm, what? " confused, I lifted my eyes from my mobile phone, which I kept glancing at hopefully to be the first to hear the news about Carlos' condition.

But so far there was still no news, which slowly started to make me more and more nervous.

"I wonder if you've already posted on Instagram that Carlos has come through the operation okay," Lucy continued in a gentle voice and put her hand on my arm.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in and for me to really understand what she meant.

" W-really? " I stammered, while at the same time a huge stone fell from my heart and I began to feel the tightness in my chest, which had been there since yesterday, loosen.

" But I didn't read anything in the group. How do you know that? " I was sure I hadn't read anything, because for the last ten minutes I'd been checking the Ferrari chat on my mobile phone, hoping I hadn't missed anything.

" Fred just came up to me. He was talking to Carlos Senior. Everything went well and he's now recovering in hospital. " Lucy gave me a soft smile as her thumb gently stroked my arm.

Not only was she my best friend on the team, she was also the one who knew how close Carlos and I actually were.

When I joined the team about a year ago, Carlos was the first to welcome me with open arms and show me around.

During my first day at work, the Spaniard kept coming round to ask me how things were going.

When he invited me for a meal at the end of my first shift and listened attentively to what I had to say about my first successful day at work, a friendship developed within a few weeks.

"Thank God," I whispered quietly as a relieved smile crept onto my lips.

All your fears and worries that something could have gone wrong during the operation vanished within a few seconds.

"I'll post it straight away! " I almost shouted as I reached for my mobile phone and then opened the Ferrari Instagram account that I was partly responsible for.

One of my tasks in the team was to keep the fans up to date via Instagram and Twitter. I also had a say in the C2 Challenges on YouTube, where I always created fun content for the fans.

It wasn't long before I had chosen a photo of Carlos and typed up a short text about his condition and then posted it.

"Now I can get back to work feeling better," I mumbled as I reached for your fruit salad, which had been sitting untouched on the table in front of me, and started eating.

" I believe you. It's about time my favourite colleague was finally back at work with a smile on her face. "

Yesterday almost flew by, which was probably due to the good news that had lifted my spirits so much that I was completely back in the swing of things.

Olli had done well in the third free practice session and in qualifying, as had Charles, who would start today's race from second place.

This lifted my spirits even further, so I entered Ferrari Hospitality with a smile on my face and greeted a few of my colleagues who were already having breakfast.

"Morning sunshine," Charles greeted me with an amused smile as I stood next to him at the buffet and reached for a plate.

"Morning my favourite Monegasque," I replied brightly and then reached for a croissant.

" Do I want to know why you're shining like the non-existent sun today? " Charles asked as he reached for a bowl of muesli and then continued. " Well, actually, I know what it is..."

Charles winked and then began to waggle his eyebrow dramatically, which looked rather strange.

"Are you all right? " I asked him, while I also secured a bowl of muesli and placed it on my tray.

" I'm doing great. I'm ready for the race, but that's not the issue right now. Try not to get distracted," he almost admonished me and raised his index finger in the air in warning before continuing. "Could it be that your good mood is back thanks to Carlo's successful operation? Because since this was announced, you seem to have changed. "

" It's race day..." I tried to talk my way out of it, but I couldn't, as Charles hovered his index finger over my lips to indicate that I should be quiet.

"I'm neither stupid nor daft. I know for a fact that there's something going on between you and Carlos. It's certainly none of my business, but I can see that you're good for each other and I think that's great. Don't stop doing good for each other, okay? Okay, great! See you then! "

Before I could open my mouth to give Charles an answer, the Ferrari driver had already fled, almost running, with his tray.

Shaking my head, I looked after the Monegasques for a few seconds before I ran over to one of the free tables with my tray and began to eat my breakfast in peace.

And as I sat there eating my breakfast in comfort, my thoughts kept wandering back to Charles' words.

Were Carlos and I really on good terms? And if so, was Carlos and my behaviour really so obvious that others had probably noticed?

Once again, a tightness began to spread through my chest, so I pushed the breakfast on my tray to one side in disgust and began to sigh softly.

But before I could even begin to think about Carlos and me, Lucy appeared in front of me.

Her blonde hair lay dishevelled on her face, her cheeks shimmered red and she put her hands on her hips, out of breath.

" Lucy are you okay? " I asked cautiously and all I got in reply was a squeezed " Water. "

After I handed Lucy my water, which she drank within a few seconds and then just stood there for a few more seconds, I got nervous.

I could sense that something wasn't right and the fact that Lucy just wouldn't come out with it made me even more nervous.

" Lucy... " I almost urged as you began to shift restlessly on the chair.

" Carlos is here! " she almost shouted so loudly that one or two Ferrari employees turned to us both and looked at me in confusion.

"Sorry, I meant Carlos is here," she repeated more quietly as she dropped into the chair opposite me and rested her elbows on the table.

" What? Why is he here? He just had an operation yesterday! " I looked at the person opposite me with wide eyes as I almost jumped up.

" I have no idea! I saw a story on Instagram where he's walking through the paddock. Or should I say crawling? He can barely walk, he looks absolutely pale and like he's in pain! " she continued, making strange hand movements that I couldn't interpret at all.

" What?! " I repeated again, almost stunned, while my heart began to beat faster.

Why was he here and not resting? He couldn't be serious.

I immediately began to worry so much that I jumped up and ran off without waiting for an answer from Lucy.

" Thanks for breakfast! " she called after me, but I hardly noticed because I only had one thing on my mind. Carlos.

I kept dodging various members of other teams as I ran, keeping my eyes peeled for Carlos.

It wasn't long before I found him and a few other Ferrari employees in the pits, where he was greeted warmly with hugs and a few words.

I stayed in the background and watched Carlos from a distance. And indeed, he looked anything but well.

His posture was more hunched than upright and his face was rather pale, which occasionally even showed that he must clearly be in pain.

Why the hell wasn't he lying in bed and resting?

It took a few minutes for the Spaniard to catch sight of me. Within a few seconds, his face brightened and he literally crept over to me.

"Mariquita," he greeted me with a smile on his lips and pulled me into a warm hug shortly afterwards.

I carefully wrapped my arms around him, hoping not to cause him any more pain.

" Carlos, what are you doing here? " was the first thing I said to him.

" How about a "Oh, hello Carlos. I'm glad you're doing well and that you've come through everything okay?" " he asked as he let go of me and then leant against the wall next to me.

He seemed to find it difficult to even stand up straight. He was even still wearing his hospital bracelet. It was as if he'd literally fled from the hospital and gone straight to the track.

" Are you crazy? You had appendicitis, had to have an operation and haven't even rested for a day? You can barely walk, you look incredibly shitty and you still seem to be in pain! " I spoke in an angry voice and didn't care if anyone was listening. Because apparently I was the first person to say these words to him.

And probably the only one who was thinking straight.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure me, but he seemed to realise himself that this wasn't the case.

" No, you're not! " I looked at him seriously for a few seconds before turning on my heel and leaving.

Carlos' warm hand grabbed my arm and caused a slight electric shock to run through my body.

"I'm sorry, Mariquita. Let's talk in peace," his voice sounded soft and calm.

He carefully led me into a kind of storeroom that I had never been in before.

A few things were stored here, such as drinks and spare items for the mechanics, like a sofa that stood in the middle of the room.

Carlos slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, grimacing slightly, and then carefully pulled me next to him.

The sofa was so narrow that we sat there more or less pressed against each other and the touch of our knees and arms made my heart start beating faster again and I became slightly restless.

" You have every right to be angry with me and to worry. That's really sweet of you, but it was entirely my decision to come here. In hospital, the ceiling would have literally fallen on my head and I wanted everyone to know that I was okay."

"But you should take it easy, Carlos..." I almost mumbled and looked at the Spaniard, whose eyes were on me.

"I will, I promise," he assured me as he came a little closer to me and I felt his breath on my cheek.

Shortly afterwards, I felt his warm lips lightly on my cheek, which made the area start to tingle warmly and the heat shot up my cheek.

" I've heard from some people how worried you were about me. That was really incredibly sweet of you, Mariquita," Carlos began and gently stroked a strand of my hair behind my ear before continuing.

"We both know that there's more between us. And that's why I want to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me? " His brown eyes rested calmly on me while a soft smile formed on his lips.

His words caused chaos to awaken in my stomach, as all the butterflies that had just been lying there quietly for a long time began to awaken and turn my feelings completely upside down.

" Yes, but only if you take it easy. Otherwise you can forget the date," I replied with a partly serious and partly worried look.

It was important to me that Carlos recovered fully from the operation and regained his strength so that he would soon be fit again and able to get back into the car.

"I promise, Mariquita."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #scuderia ferrari

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