#I still have an interview again tomorrow and that one is promising

[littlecutiexox]

I'm feeling a little trapped I hate it

[yzzart]

WHEN I WAS LED TO YOU... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji could get used to his routine, but, only with you by his side.

── word count: 982!

── warnings: F!reader, nothing intense, mention of Emi and Mina, Kenji being a little needy.

“Come on…” — A voice, entering the melody with softness and familiarity, passed through the player’s ears. — “…i know you’re awake.” — The statement was accompanied by a laugh.

Kenji could easily — in fact, completely — conclude that that voice belonged to an angel; even though he doesn't admit to being so religious, openly. — By having his eyes closed, in satisfied tiredness and drowsiness, he was more likely to believe in his conclusion.

Even in unpleasant, unstable situations and, insanely, worries about his life — like worrying about his stats in games, trying not to destroy the city while fighting some monster, and teaching Emi something practical and not blunt — and not wanting to hear or see nothing in front of him, Kenji had his refuge; a place to feel safe and at peace, at home.

“Ken…” — You voice pleaded, with more sweetness and, trying, to mix a little seriousness. In addition to moving between the thin, silky sheets of your body, wanting to get even closer to the boy.

In fact, he could melt into the bed, right there, just to hear your voice crying out to him like that.

Releasing a brief sigh, and pulling a breathing line, inhaling your scent, which was stuck to the pillow, Kenji tried to communicate with a mumble; which even he himself had no chance of understanding. — Perhaps, his consciousness still remained trapped in his sleep.

Because you found his action funny, your laugh, a little more hoarse, enveloped Ken's ears again; automatically forming a placid smile on his lips. — Moving his head, the young boy, with his eyes sensitive to the light, comes across your image resting on the pillow and covered, just enough, with the white sheet.

Sato was mentally grateful for the privilege of waking up every day with this vision.

"Good morning, my love." — You said, without holding back your wide smile; something that captivated and welcomed Ken's chest. — Your orbs moved, without haste or greed, across the boy's face, memorizing, for countless times, every little dot that existed in the region.

"Morning..." — He replied, followed by a yawn and another grumble; a sudden and unexpected movement was caused in the bed, obviously, it was the player's body snuggling against your. — Like he wants to fit in with you. — "What time is it please…?"

“Hm…” — Your eyes crossed the clock next to the bed. — “Soon, it will be 9:30.” — With his head buried in your neck, Sato let out a whimper, causing a tickle.

“It’s not possible…” — He complained, almost whimpering; as a sign of caress, your hand entered your lover's soft black hair, causing affection and tenderness.

The oldest settled down, and, briefly, relieving a growl, memorizing a purr; feeling on your skin, a satisfied smile adored by the attention. — A true paradise for young Sato and he had no problem admitting it.

“I think someone forgot about the interview they promised for today, right?” — He definitely forgets; by the way his head moved from where it was, and how wide his eyes were, Ken had nowhere to run. — “Yeah, you forgot.” — You raised one of your eyebrows.

“Wasn’t it due tomorrow?” — He questioned, still not believing and with some messy black locks standing out on her forehead. — “I’m sure i had it scheduled for tomorrow.” — He rushed into words. — “Actually, i’m not so sure.”

End of the season, therefore, decisive games for the team and more efforts towards a high level of dedication; it also meant several interviews and moments of questioning about the games, his teammates and his personal life. — Sato understood that it was important, of course, it was part of being a baseball star, however, when trying to balance his life as an Ultraman, a player and, recently, the father of a giant baby lizard, it wasn't such a simple thing.

He wasn't alone, not to mention Mina, and, thankfully, he had you by his side. — Trying, as much as possible, and persisting in helping him; even when, thinking about your care and certain risks, he warned you that he didn't need it. — Evidently, the guidelines were not followed, for a pleasant reason. — And now, seeing you taking care of Emi, as if she were your child, lit up Sato's eyes.

“It really is today, Ken.” — You confirmed it and, unsurprisingly, another wave of mumbles and incomprehensible words and rolled eyes. — “At least, it will be the last one before they enter the rest period.” — Your hand moved along Sato's long, strong, bare arm, reinforcing his attention.

“At least there is a bright side.” — He murmured, shaking his head, prolonging his thoughts, at the same time, reusing the contact of your hand against his skin. — “I need to take a break.” — He said, turning towards you. — “Urgently.” — Like a somewhat defenseless creature, he returned to his comfort, now, with his head under your chin.

"I know, honey." — Your fingers stroked Kenji's hair, for the second time, while his arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you, with the need to keep you close to him. — “And you will soon.” — Subtly, and delicately, your voice soothed him. — “Don’t worry about Emi, i’ll take care of her for today.” — Kenji thanked, once again and mentally. — “And maybe we’ll make a list of what we can do during these days off and she’ll go along with us.”

Your boyfriend's familiar, radiant laugh spread throughout the room, resounding in your chest. — For a short time, Kenji had understood his relationship with Emi and achieved a paternal image; visibly, it wasn't just him. — The small, and immense, baby witnessed you as a second mother.

“Yes, yes, of course.” — He pulled away, coming face to face with you, looking into your eyes, in pure ecstasy and passion. — “You’re the best, dear.” — Bringing his lips to your forehead, Kenji gave you a long, careful kiss.

[wileys-russo]

Hi , (Leah , apartment, "You set the kitchen on fire?!Just a little, but it means we can start the remodelling sooner, right?)

part of the milaverse remodel II l.williamson

you didn't think much of it when you were stuck at the red light and a fire engine came flying past, cars all screaming to a halt to let them through, humming along to the radio.

you'd just come from a full day of media commitments, starting at 5am with a morning radio interview and ending around 5pm with a photo shoot you were almost certain would require some serious photoshop for the bags under your eyes.

so 12 hours later, utterly exhausted and almost home, you couldn't wait to just curl up with your wife and your daughter. with nothing to do tomorrow at all you'd promised mila a family day you'd cautiously left to leah to plan, hinting heavily if it involved a sleep in and breakfast in bed you'd make it worth your wifes while.

however, every single thought was emptied from your head and replaced with the screaming of alarm bells as you turned the corner onto your street and saw the fire engine again, only this time parked right out the front of your home.

you cleared the gap in record time grateful there didn't seem to be another car on the road and you barely threw it into park before you leapt out, leaving the engine going and the keys in as you pushed your way past neighbours and onlookers without a word.

you heard a few of them call out your name but it fell on deaf ears, shrugging away the hands that poked at you until you were at the front, a tiny amount of relief flooding you as you spotted the back of your wifes head.

leah almost hit the ground as your body hurtled into hers, scowl set and mouth ready to let whoever had just shoved her have it until she realised it was you, your smaller frame wrapping tightly around hers.

"hey hey hey, stop. breathe." you rambled off a million questions a minute as several firefighters came strolling out the front door also unharmed, leahs hand coming to rest over your mouth.

"mila is fine, she's at my mums house for the night, she wasn't even in the neighbourhood when it went up." leah spoke firmly as your eyebrows shot up and you wrenched her hand off you. "when what went up leah? what the fuck happened!" you shoved at your wifes chest, anger masking the fear that was still set deep in your bones.

"thanks mate." leah smiled politely over your shoulder as one of your neighbours handed her the keys you'd left running in the car, advising he'd turned it off and locked it before ushering his own wife away, two police offers having arrived now to disperse the rest of the crowd.

"god this is going to be all over the news tonight." the blonde shuddered at the thought, quickly brought back to reality as you smacked her arm and she whined. "ow!" the defender rubbed her shoulder as you glared at her.

"what. the fuck. happened, leah?" you growled, interrupted yet again before she could answer as the captain of the fire department tapped your wifes shoulder. "you got very lucky. the blaze was contained quite easily and really its only caused damage to the one room-" you tuned him out at that, ducking away and marching off toward the house.

"thank you so much sir. really. its been a valuable lesson learned! i promise this will never happen again." leah rushed out, shaking the mans hand and standing up on tippy toes to catch the back of your head storming toward the front door.

"that the wife?" the man glanced behind him with a small chuckle as leah nodded frantically. "we'll make sure the rest of these lot clear off, and the police shouldn't need to speak to you, i'm happy to rule it an accident. good luck!" the man smiled, leah shaking his hand once again and racing off after you.

"leah. move." you warned sternly as your wife appeared in front of you right as you'd stepped through the door. "babe. now, before you take another step-" the blonde started as you scoffed, shoving past her as she winced and hurried after you.

"look love its not that-" but your jaw dropped, mouth wide open in a state of stunned shock, not a single word of leahs registered as you froze in the doorway, eyes scanning what you were sure used to be your kitchen.

"you-you-this-our-" you stammered out, hands flailing around wildly as leah rubbed the back of her neck with a grimace. "yeahh..." your wife whistled, able to take in all the damage properly herself now, though the chief hadn't been lying when he said she was lucky it was only the one room, the living room mainly untouched.

"you set the kitchen on fire!?" you rounded on her sharply, leah quickly backing up as you advanced until she backed into the fridge with a stumble. "a little?" your wife laughed nervously, your right eye twitching and leahs own gaze darted out to where the knives were, contemplating for a moment if she should move them out of your reach.

"but hey you hated that splash back! and with the insurance money it means we can start remodelling sooner, right?" she perked up hopefully as your mouth opened and closed, not even sure how to respond to that.

"how leah. how did this happen?" you spun back around away from her, eyes scanning the scorned and blackened walls in front of you as leah exhaled a small sigh of relief, subtly side stepping and pushing the knife block back out of sight.

"well. i knew you'd had a full on day and you'd be exhausted, so i organised with mum to take trouble for the night and i thought i'd make dinner-" you scoffed at that, the blonde shooting you a look.

"which i did!" she shooed you out of the way and pulled the fridge, which was mostly unscatched given it was on the other side of the room from the blaze, showing an oven dish of some sort covered over with foil.

"but then i tried making crème brûlée because i know thats your favorite, and i borrowed a blow torch-" leah started as your jaw dropped again and you shook your head in disbelief.

"you borrowed a blow torch!?" you spat out with wide eyes. "a cooking one!" leah tried to defend as you gave her a look. "i was just trying to see if it worked because i was going to finish them off once we'd had dinner and well..." the blonde guiltily gestured around as you exhaled shakily.

"i just-" you could only shake your head, staring at the damage as suddenly a million and one scenarios of how this could have ended very very differently came hurtling to the surface of your mind.

your wife grunted as suddenly you turned and rammed into her, face pressing into her neck and hugging her tightly as leah tensed up in surprised before quickly embracing you.

"i was so scared leah. i just saw the fire engine and-" you trailed off, body trembling in the blondes hold who gently shushed you. "i know love. i know. but i'm safe, mila is safe, you're safe, we're all okay." leah whispered softly, hand rubbing up and down your back as the two of you stood there hugging in silence, your wife not daring to even move until you did.

eventually your death grip on the blonde lessened a little, a few kisses pressed against your lips as your wife repeatedly assured everything was going to be okay but she knew it would take more than words and some time before you believed her.

"i'll call mum, we can stay at her place tonight with mila." leah spoke, reading your mind completely as your body sagged into hers with a small nod, adrenaline all wearing off now as the exhaustion returned and the defender tenderly kissed your forehead as you sighed.

"you are never allowed in the kitchen unsupervised ever ever again."

[circumscribitwrites]

My job agency’s suggested the staff writer role for me. I guess it makes sense, I’ve got a social sciences degree from a top university so they can guess I’m good at writing. I’m not sure what content Men’s Monthly would want from a bear like me though. While it’s only been a year and a bit since I graduated, my muscle pretty much dissolved to fat while I was studying, and I think it’s about working out or something? But it can’t hurt to show up to interview.

You had a great body when you started university. It didn’t last.

The campus gym was closed for “social distancing.” You never left your dorm. All you could do was eat, study, sleep, and repeat. Other people had their freshman fifteen. For you, it was closer to fifty.

Thanks, Covid-19.

You tried one diet after another. You promised yourself that you’d finally exercise again - starting tomorrow, of course. But you had to put your studies first. The weight just didn’t come off. By the time you graduated, you’d replaced every piece of clothing you owned.

Twice.

Health and fitness weren’t your forte - at least not anymore. That's why you never expected Men’s Monthly to reach out to you.

“So,” said the interviewer, “we don’t doubt that you can do the job. But we’re interested in how you’d do it. We want someone who can take a personal approach to their stories. Really get involved, have skin in the game, connect with our audience, all that. Is that you?"

You nodded.

“Alright, great! Now, before we go further, there’s just a little assignment. We want you to write a story - nothing too long. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Here it is: Why do you work out?”

You gulped. You hadn’t been to the gym in…years. And the idea of going in there now, looking like…you? You felt sick to your stomach.

Your stomach.

You blinked. “Sure...That’s no problem.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. Just let me know when you’ve written it!”

The call ended. You let out a sigh. You couldn’t just come up with some fake story. And there was a gym just down the street…

You rummaged through your closest, finding old sweatpants with just enough give to fit around your waist and a t-shirt baggy enough to cover up your stomach. It was easy enough to get a pass for the gym. You ventured beyond the front desk, surveying the equipment: treadmills, exercise bikes, weight machines, squat racks, dumbbells.

Dumbbells.

How hard could they be? They literally had dumb in the name, after all. You walked over to the rack and picked up the weights, one in each hand. Slowly, carefully, you moved them upward.

Your muscles flexed, biceps already bulging.

Why did you work out?

Because you wanted to feel healthy. To be strong.

Another curl. You felt yourself getting warmer, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

Why did you work out?

Because it felt good. And you deserved to feel good.

The weights felt heavier now. Your muscles burned. Sweat ran down your face, falling into your eyes. You kept going, kept pushing.

Why did you work out?

‘Cus this is what you do. Workin’ out’s part of you. Always has been.

Your shirt was drenched. You put the weights down and peeled it off your skin, tossing it to the floor.

Yeah, you worked out.

And it made you look like a fuckin’ beast.

Your shoulders were broad, your chest wide, your arms pumped, your abs glistening. You couldn’t get enough of your own reflection.

They’re gonna want something for that story. Better take a pic.

Thanks for applying, Anonymous!

And if you're looking to Be a Man™, Men's Monthly is still hiring!

[sweatyracoon]

How Skz Reacts to your Anxious Ticks

A/n: I have a lot of anxious energy, and many ticks, so why not do a Skz react? Should I do more Skz reacts?

Warnings: Lots of anxiety, blood (not a lot), pet names(baby), talk about getting sick, stress eating, implied panic attacks

Bangchan: Foot tapping

You would be sitting with the guys in the changing room before a concert. Even though you wouldn't be going anywhere near the stage, you were a nervous reck.

Your worries started when Chan slipped on stage, faceplanting right before his verse, triggering something in you. Ever since then, you always worried.

There was a small ambiance, the staff and group members talking, offering a noise buffer, but it wasn't enough.

You didn't realize your foot was tapping until you caught Chan's stare. He looked between you and your foot, motioning for you to calm down.

All you could do was pause your movements until his attention drifted to Hyunjin.

You kept tapping.

It wasn't long before Chan made his way to you, ten minutes before the show.

"Y/n. You're doing it again," He told you with a smile.

"I can't help it, Channie," you responded, looking at him. "What if you fall again?"

He looked surprised. "Y/n, that was two years ago," he said softly, sitting next to you.

"So? It could happen again," You were being stubborn. It wasn't like you.

"How about I promise you that I won't fall," he reached out with his pinky, waiting for you to take it in your own.

"But you don't know that," you whined, making him smile.

"Okay, okay. Fine. How about...I promise to be careful?" Now he was just trying to make you happy.

And it worked.

You nodded, slotting your pinky into his, sealing the deal. He ruffled you hair before saying a quick good luck, and left to the stage.

Lee Know: Finger nail biting

You hadn't known the boys long, but you all were incredibly close. Bangchan being your brother, he invited you with him everywhere.

You were particularly fond of Lee know, but he seemed indifferent. He cared about you, but he was expressionless all the same.

He had started picking up on random habits you began to aquire, one of them bring fingernail biting.

It wasn't safe, nor was it healthy, so anytime be caught you biting a nail, he was there, a scolding ready.

Or at least, that was his plan. But when he came up next to you, ready to interfere, you would look up at him, pausing your mission, your finger still in your mouth. His heart nearly stopped.

Instead of saying anything, he would gently remove your fingers by grasping your wrist slightly, moving it your side.

He would do this whenever he had to.

Cooking? He would stop everything, washing his hands before and after touching you. Who care about the food?

If he's doing an interview and sees you chewing behind the camera? He'll find a moment he isn't needed just to halt your habit.

If he isn't anywhere near you, but Felix snitched through text? He would call you just to make sure you weren't really biting your nails.

"Are you biting, y/n?"

"No..."

"I'm checking your nails tomorrow. You better not be lying, jagi,"

Instead of punishing you, however, when he sees your shortened nails, all he does is look at you, your hand still in his.

"You got to stop, jagi," he whispers, massaging your hand.

"I'm sorry, Lee know. It's just hard,"

"I know, baby,"

Changbin: Stress eating

You were a known eater in the group along side Changbin and Bangchan. The three of you? Eatracha(lol).

But when Changbin noticed you eating twice as much, he assumed it was stress. You looked sad while you ate, which was new.

He took it upon himself to eat with you, the same amount, and he felt sick. But he didn't want you to feel alone.

It was when you started to physically get sick that he decided to intervene.

"Y/n? Maybe you should stop..." he told you, rubbing your shoulders.

In tears, you said, "But I can't, Bin. I've tried. It's like my body needs me to eat, but it can't take that much," you sniffled, leaning into his touch.

"Oh, honey. It's okay. We can just lower your portion slowly. That way, you can get used to eating less, but at a healthy pace, okay? Sound good?" He asked, moving up to your neck.

Feeling the pleasure from his rubs made your head loll back.

"Yeah..."

Hyunjin: Finger tapping

He thought it was cute at first. You tapping the table gently, hearing the soft thuds of your dull fingers. You had just cut your nails, so it didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it gave him ideas for music, not that you would notice. Hearing the same beat you had recently tapped yourself, you weren’t focused on it.

A few days went by, and you were still doing it. If your hands weren’t busy, tap. Tap. Tap. Hyunjin wasn’t the only one that noticed. Bangchan and Changbin both noticed as well, and Jeonjin later. They all told you what was going on, but you just played it off as a habit from childhood, despite them knowing you for years and not once had you had this issue.

As your nails grew, so did the tune of the taps. They seemed more aggressive, more painful. You hit the table harder.

One of your nails broke, causing your finger to bleed. You didn’t notice. You kept tapping.

It was just you and Han in the room. He was on his phone, distracted. He became used to the tapping. It didn’t bother him. You stared at the wall, still moving your fingers through the bloody table, while Hyunjin walked in.

A small gasp, and rushed footsteps caught your attention.

“Hyunjin? What’s wrong?” You asked, oblivious.

“Y/n! Your hands!” He was struggling to sit still at the sight of your blood smeared on the table. You finally stopped tapping, at least.

“Oh…” Was all you could say before you heard a scuttling in one of the drawers. It was Han. He had finally noticed, grabbing some bandages. “I didn’t..I wasn’t…”

“What the hell, y/n? Do you not notice what you’re doing?” Hyunjin muttered, grabbing the bandages from Han, moving towards your hand. He gently pulled your hands towards his own, quickly wrapping it to stop the bleeding.

“Han?” Hyunjin said, but Han only nodded. You watched as we went to go get disinfectant and towels to clean up the table. “Y/n? Look at me,”

You did, embarrassed that this happened in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you started tearing up, your shoulders shaking. You were so anxious, but you had no idea why.

His gaze softened, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m here,”

Han: Hair twirling

You hair want too long, so it didn’t really get in the way. But you liked hair, even your own. After touching Hans for the first time a few months ago, you were hooked. But you knew you couldn’t bother him all the time just to mess with his hair, so you started playing with your own. It wasn’t the same, but it was different, in a good way.

Every day, the boys would eye your hands in your hair, and they never questioned it. They thought it was a girl thing. Right?

Three months later, you were anxious. Immediately, your hands went to your hair. Whenever you were upset? Hair. It was so comforting. Even when you were angry. Scared? Cover your face with your hair, and mess with the dead ends. It cured everything.

Han tripped and fell one day right in front of you, and it scared you. It was so sudden. You knew he was clumsy, but the way he squealed reached your ears at full volume. It was too much.

You jumped back a little, bringing both of your hands to pull your hair in front of your eyes, using your thumb to mess with the tips.

“Jisung? You okay?” You asked from behind your makeshift shield.

“Yeah…? Are you?” You heard him giggle, patting himself down. He shouldn’t be too dirty, we were only in the kitchen, after all.

“Yeah…” you responded. You dropped your curtain, but kept your hand in your hair, twirling it quickly.

Han noticed this and his smile slowly dropped, replaying every moment similar to this one. And one thing was the same in each. Your hair. He was always confused on what started it, but it didn’t seem to harm you, so he was fine with it. But now, he wanted to know.

“Why are your hands always in your hair?” He finally asked, not really meaning to.

“Oh? I just like the way it feels. It’s soothing, I guess,” you responded, shrugging your shoulders.

He got an idea, one that will hopefully change your habit. “Wanna feel mine?” He raised a brow, sending a smile to you.

Your eyes brightened, making his heart flutter. “Really?” You asked, both of your hands now free from the prison that is your hair.

Han nodded.

You both ended up on the couch, his head in your lap as you played with his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I need this to last forever,” Han whispered as you rubbed a sore spot on his lower neck.

“Isn’t forever a long time?” You giggled. However, your heart dropped at his next words.

“Perhaps it isn’t long enough,”

Felix: Lip biting

It started really quick into the friendship. They wanted you with them for every show, and every event. That’s how close you were. But the random photos from strangers and invading fans were just too much. Your privacy was no longer private, and it worried you. It started to affect your sleeping, your eating, and your patience.

You became extremely anxious, which didn’t go unnoticed by the guys. They were always trying to comfort you with something, but it never seemed to last. But you smiled, not wanting to worry them.

The lip biting started at night. You couldn’t sleep, and was bored. You didn’t touch your phone, not wanting to see what people say about you and your friends. It was an accident at first. You bit your lip, wincing at the sudden pain. But then your teeth grazed them again, catching on dry skin. It was annoying you, so you just bit it. And kept going.

You stopped drinking as much water just so your lips could dry out, wanting to bite them again.

While in the dance room with the boys, you were biting, starting off gently. You didn’t want to bleed in front of the boys. They weren’t dancing, but just hanging out. They had to shoot an m/v later in the day, so they wanted to relax.

Bite. Seungmin was messing with Jeonjin, making him form a fist. Bite. Chan was talking to Lee know about the choreo. Bite. Han, Changbin and Hyunjin were sitting in a circle, playing a game. Bite. Wait…

You felt something warm slide down your chin. Then you smelt it. Blood.

“Y/n? Oh my god!” You were grateful Felix whispered, not catching anyone’s attention.

He stood quickly, grabbing your hand and taking you to the restroom. He walked into the girls bathroom without a care in the world, which would have made you giggle if it weren’t for this situation.

“Are you okay? Is the cut deep? What happened?” He ran the water, grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and brought it to your lip.

“Mm ‘Kay,” you muffled, the towel hindering your speech. You saw the ghost of a smile form on his own, making you feel better.

When he moved the now red towel, the bleeding had slowed, making you lick them every so often. You looked at Felix and his sad expression.

“It was an accident. I promise. It won’t happen again,” you promised.

“You sure?”you nodded.

After seeing his worry, and how he took care of you, you knew you would never bite your lip again.

Seungmin: Finger popping

Seungmin popped his knuckles, so why did he feel yours was unnecessary and annoying? Were you copying him? Or mocking him? He didn’t know. But when he walked into Hans room, he didn’t expect to see you on the floor, desperately trying to pop your back.

When you felt the need to pop a bone, doesn’t matter which one, you must pop it quickly, or else you start to get anxious. This was one of those moments. You had popped your elbows, your knees, fingers and neck. Lastly was your back, but you couldn’t get this part. It was too low, so turning on the ground wouldn’t work. And neither was pushing your weight down from a higher surface. You were starting to panic.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” You ignored his words, desperately trying to relieve your growing stress.

“Y/n?” He said a bit louder, seeing you glance at him as you started breathing heavier. “Hey! Hey? What the matter?” Now he was starting to worry.

“My back..”

He looked you up and down before asking, “Does it hurt?” He went to place his hand where you were holding, applying soft pressure.

“No. Needs to pop,” You whimpered, making his eyes widen.

“What?” He went to remove his hand, but you stopped him.

“Could you pop it please? I don’t like it,” You pleaded with him.

You two weren’t close, so seeing this side from you shocked him. Still, the sound of your uncomfortable plead was enough to break him.

“Okay. Show me where,” you did, waiting for him to apply pressure. “Ready?” You nodded, and gasped when he pushed down. The loud pop echoed through the room, making him flinch, pulling his arm from you.

Sitting for a moment to feel the relief, you then turned to him. Your eyes shined and you had a soft smile.

“Thanks, Seungmin. I really appreciate it,”

His heart felt like it would burst. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling, but he knew that if you ever needed him to pop something, he’d be there. So that’s exactly what he said, making you feel the same way.

“Thank you, Minnie,”

“Your welcome, y/n,”

Jeonjin: Rapid blinking

You were a fan in the audience, not jumping like the rest, but paying the same amount of attention. You were an introvert, no doubt, and didn’t show excitement despite feeling it very much. You had a front row ticket, and was right in front of the eight boys you came to love. Your bias, Jeonjin, was right in front of you, singing his part for ‘I Lose my Breath’, literally making you lose yours.

You started blinking, thinking it was the fog machines effecting you, but it was something else. You didn’t know what until it was too late. The crowd pushing behind you, you felt pressure building inside your chest. No one was touching you, thank god, but you felt the presence of the fans. It was suffocating.

You fell into a blinking fit, unable to keep them open, and unable to keep them closed. This had never happened before, but you weren’t surprised. It was a tic. It would take a while to stop it. So, as to not disturb anyone next to you, you tilted your head, looking at your shoes, or at least, trying to.

You kept blinking, not fighting it, knowing it will make it worse. It started to slow when you felt a tap on your shoulder. It came from in front of you. A security guard? You slowly looked back up, your vision fighting the bright lights. Then you stopped breathing.

Jeonjin?

He was standing in front of you with a worried expression. On stage, it was now dance break, meaning he didn’t need to sing. He was making sure you were okay.

Since he saw you, he felt a pull from that stage, making him linger near your area. He saw that you didn’t even have your phone out like the rest, not jumping or anything. Just swaying lightly on your feet while smiling every time he looked at you. You were a calm in the storm. He liked that. And when he saw you staring at the floor for fifteen minutes, he got worried. Did you not like the show? Did he do something wrong? Did his pants rip?

But when he got to you, he noticed your eyes were watery. He didn’t know why, and didn’t need to either. He motioned for your phone from your front pocket, and you slowly gave it to him, thinking he was going to take a selfie, instead, he was typing. Why? You didn’t know. He came close to your ear after giving it back, and said,

“After the show. Don’t look until then,” was all he said before winking, and walking back to his members.

You stood there confused, but focused on the rest of the show.

After you made it to your hotel after thee show, you checked your phone, wondering what he could have possibly left you. Everything looked normal. You were confused. But when you opened your messages, you saw his name as one of the contacts. What?

You opened it, seeing he already texted himself. You gasped, not sure what to make of it. You slowly typed out something, but didn’t send it, unsure if this was real. Thirty minutes later, you saw his bubbles. He’s texting you?!

“You going to send it or just let it sit?”

[cheriladycl01]

Double the Interviews - Oscar Piastri x GreekOlympicTennis! Reader

Plot: WAG duties consist of you literally being in more interviews than Oscar because of your outgoing and bubbly personality.

"Y/N can we have a minute of your time please?" an interviewer asks pulling you away from your friend who you look over at. She smiles at you and nods, making her way back to the McLaren garage.

"How are you feeling about the race tomorrow?" he asks and you put a serious face on.

"Yeah, I think the car's got good pace, looking to be in some top positions and I'm excited to see what happens!" you nod and the interviewer holds back their laugh.

"Spoken like a true driver!" he chuckles and you start to laugh as well.

"How are you feeling knowing come summer you'll be competing in the Olympics for Greece in Paris while Oscar is also competing in his own sport?" he asks and you nod, carefully listening to the question to not misunderstand him.

"Yeah of course. You know it's always hard when you have those conflicting schedules especially in athlete relationships. You know I'm still competing in ATP and I have been for a while, and then going into the Olympics on top of that is just immense. I get to travel with my best friend who I've played tennis with since 3 years old but at the same time Osc isn't there all the time. I think that's why today is just so important to me, to be here to support him at his home race!" you smile to the man in front of you who slowly pulls the mic back towards him.

"Will we be seeing Oscar at the Olympics this year?" he asks.

"I think at this stage it's hard to tell, F1 has the longest and busiest schedule to date this year and there's more stress and pressure on the drivers than ever with all the changes taking place ahead of 2025 and 2026, so you know I'd love Oscar to be able to come and see me take home another medal, but again it's one of those moments where you can't be in two places at once!" you explain, knowing he'd already planned to come for your first event of the summer, and would try and stay with you, until it ended for you. But even he didn't know when McLaren would request for him in Woking, or if he'd go home to spend a little needed time with his family.

"Well, I think it's safe to say we are all wishing for Gold for you again this year. Good luck to you and Y/BFF/N who we did see earlier, but dipped away last minute before i could invite her!" he smiles at you, and you smile back.

"You'll see us at the Olympics up at the very top. We promise!" you give the camera a cheesy grin before saying your goodbye's and leaving him to question the next driver who was eagerly waiting behind you.

"There you are!" you hear the Australian accent you knew all to well from your left.

"Hey baby!" you smile, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on Oscar's cheek.

"Saw Y/BFF/N come back without you, when she told me you were stolen for an interview i thought i'd come see if you needed saving" he softly tells you placing a light and gentle hand in your smiling softly down at you.

"Ah, you see baby that is where we are completely and utterly different. I love talking to all your work colleagues!" you say, pulling his hand along so you can both walk back together. You wave at people as you walk past saying small hello's and posing for any camera's you spot in your peripheral.

"You consider the media work colleagues of mine?" he asks with a low laugh that has you cocking your head to one side in question.

"You don't?" you offer back.

"No, my colleagues are my team and the other drivers!" he admits with a blank look on his face that just screams that no cogs are turning up there.

"I mean, you work with the media every time your here. I'd say you work with them, they might not be on your team but they are still apart of your sport!" you admit, he goes to argue but you put a soft finger on his lip.

"Would you consider my ball boy's as my colleagues?" you ask, and he thinks for a second before sighing and nodding.

"There you go then! F1 interviewers are your work colleagues and i like talking to them, they always have very insightful questions!" you smile.

"Insightful or invasive?" he queries looking across at you, brows a little furrowed.

"Damn, you really are a young Kimi Raikkonen. I see what the fans mean now!" you laugh at his expression which quickly tries to change but the frown lines remain.

"God, we need to go back to my mum's for some rest and relaxation" you sigh, starting to massage his wrist and up his arm making him sigh.

"Mmmm, we do I really miss that one dish that she makes us!"

"The Tzatziki with the roasted meat and vegetable kebabs or Moussaka?" you ask looking over at him knowing he enjoyed both.

"Oh! I was thinking of the Moussaka, but the Tzatziki is good. My trainer actually said that it was the perfect mix!" he admitted, still holding that blank expression.

"But he tells you off for the Honey Cake!" you sigh knowing that it was a delicacy you didn't get very often too, being an athlete and all meant that you had to have a very strict diet and couldn't lie to your trainer about cheat days you'd have.

"Okay but that Honey Cake is lethal! You cant stop when you start eating it!" he says before starting to quietly ramble about all his favorite foods as you enter the confides of his driver room away from the public eye.

You cant help but just watch and smile at him, people rarely get to see this funny talkative side of Oscar that could actually out ramble you sometimes which should be near impossible as you were very much a yapper. Especially when you got passionate and would slip in some of you mother tongue without realizing.

"What?, Why are you staring at me?" he asks, after realizing he'd started to rant.

"I just love watching you talk, you nose scrunches when you get passionate about a topic and it's cute" you smile, looking down knowing he'd be a blushing mess.

"Shut up! You are the yapper here, start yapping!" he says, making you burst out laughing while he goes to sit down on the small sofa.

"I'm going to miss you next week!" you sigh as you sit down on his lap where he wraps his arms tightly around you and rests his head in the crook of you neck.

"I know, but I'll come see you at your next tournament after the triple-header!" he smiles, kissing against your neck your body relaxing against his.

"It's just hard, god I'm clingy!" you attempt to laugh the tears away.

"Lando wants to know if you and Y/BFF/N are down for a rematch" he smirks changing the conversation to a more light-hearted one.

"Oh you boys are so on!" you grin.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri and landonorris

y/user: Photo Dump from the boyf’s homeland! Love you Australia 🇦🇺

View all 278 comments

oscarpiastri: it was fun playing doubles with you and y/bff/n. Best you next time

landonorris: these guys are kinda good at tennis yo!

-> y/user: does the gold medal mean nothing to you?

-> landonorris: not really :0

-> y/user: well … Osc?

-> oscarpiastri: don’t involve me :(

Your Instagram Story Caption:

Double Trouble in Stralia 🇦🇺

Taglist:

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[lemoncrushh]

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored

short lil summary: after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

warnings: smut (multiple positions, multiple orgasms), angst, oral (f receiving), dirty talk - 18+ ONLY!!

word count: 8k+

a/n: this is part 2 of bad idea. read that first.

(obviously both are somewhat inspired by ariana grande songs)

You heard your phone ringing as you stepped out of the shower. Knowing better than to hurry and risk falling on the bathroom floor, you listened for another ring, but none came. Quickly drying off with a towel, you wondered if it was Harry.

The two of you had been texting for the last few days. While he’d continued with his audacious flirting, he hadn’t made another move to see you again until last night.

Wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? he’d texted.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you’d said you had tentative plans with a friend - which wasn’t a full lie since Deliah had texted you and asked to get together - so you should play it by ear.

Stepping into your bedroom, you grabbed your phone from your bed. Your lips twitched into a grin when you saw his name.

Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Thoughts of him had been invading your mind since you’d left his apartment that morning. That morning after the most incredible sex you’d ever had. He’d ordered you an Uber, and offered you breakfast which you’d declined. While he’d been sweet, promising to text you, you’d made sure to keep things casual - especially after seeing that text from Melanie on his phone.

Maybe she was his girlfriend. He’d guessed correctly that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he never divulged his own relationship status. And if he was anything like his brother, he may have a handful of women he was fucking. Not that you blamed him. He was a sexy guy, and despite falling under his spell for one drunken, sex-charged night, you were still his brother’s ex and knew it was best not to get too attached.

One thing you admitted to yourself at least, was that you enjoyed his flirty little texts and the way they made you giggle like a schoolgirl. But you would never say this to your friends. You hadn’t heard from Marcie at all since that night, and Deliah, ever the kind and gentle soul, merely asked if you got home okay and if you had a hangover, saying you two should make dinner plans. Obviously both of your friends knew you’d slept with your ex’s brother. But for now, it had yet to be a topic of conversation.

“Hey, it’s Harry,” he said in the voicemail he’d just left. “Was wondering if you were free. I was just about to head to the coffee shop. Let me know.”

Since you hadn’t heard decisive plans from Deliah about that dinner yet, you tapped the phone to call Harry back.

“Hi, which coffee shop?”

You could see him through the cafe window before you even made it to the door. He sat in a corner booth at the front, another cap backwards on his head. He smiled and waved when he saw you coming, and it immediately sent a warm feeling through your veins.

“Hi,” you said when you approached him, and he rose from the booth, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look lovely,” he commented, his palm running down your back and lingering just above your waist. “I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I’d wait for you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but you didn’t have to.”

Harry shrugged. “I wanted to.”

With a grin, you walked with Harry to the counter to place your coffee order. When he told the barista it was together and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, you didn’t argue. Joining him at the table again, you asked Harry how his day had been.

“Pretty good,” he replied. “Had another interview this morning.”

“How did that go?”

“Went well, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“I know,” you nodded. “Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.”

You both continued to make small talk for a bit until the barista called out his name. You watched Harry slide out of the booth to pick your coffees up at the counter. Selfishly, you stared at his back, his broad shoulders, hoping he was planning to stay in the states instead of returning to London. Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for having such thoughts. He was not yours to claim. Some good dick and a cup of coffee did not mean anything more.

Returning to the table, he set your cup in front of you. Then Harry’s smile spread across his face before he reached for his phone. “Found something today as well,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh?”

Tapping on his cell, Harry chuckled before turning it towards you. Your face fell when you recognized the image. It was your senior photo from high school.

“Is that you?” he asked.

With a sigh, you nodded, wanting to make yourself small and melt into the vinyl of the seat. “Yeah.”

“I told you I thought you looked familiar,” he smirked. “You went to my high school.”

“Where did you find that?” you asked him with a grimace.

“Your instagram.”

“Shit,” you muttered, throwing your hand over your face. You’d forgotten you had an account. You’d abandoned it after you and David had broken up.

Fuck! David!

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up,” Harry continued.

Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you shook your head, wanting to vomit. “I guess you know who I am, then.”

“From school, yeah. Oh, you mean that you dated my brother?”

“Yes,” you groaned, shielding your eyes from him as you looked down at your untouched coffee.

“Honestly? I don’t care much about that.”

Lifting your head, you stared at him in shock. “What?”

Harry shrugged. “David’s dated a lot of girls. I could barely keep track even before I left for London. I was bound to run into one of them sooner or later.”

Making a face, you sat back. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Harry chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re just another chick, sweetheart. You’re anything but that, if I’m being honest. It just doesn’t matter to me that you dated my brother, that’s all. I like you. We had a good time, yeah?”

Color rose to your face as your body relaxed. “Yes.”

“Good.” Harry gazed back at the photo on his phone. “You were really cute, too. I would’ve asked you out if I hadn’t been a dorky freshman.”

A cackle escaped your lips as you looked away, turning back only to find a gorgeous, sexy grin on Harry’s face.

“You’re definitely not dorky now, Harry,” you commented.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

The moment was silent as you looked at him and blinked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I…was afraid it would spoil everything. I was enjoying spending time with you.”

“‘s alright. I enjoyed it too.”

Finally taking a sip of your latte, you looked up at him. “So where does that leave us?”

“Exactly where we were. I asked you here because I wanted to see you again.”

“And?” you tilted your head, hoping he had more to add.

“And…I was hoping we could get together again soon. Like this weekend.”

“Alright,” you said nonchalantly, lifting your cup to your lips.

Harry snickered. “Just alright? Did you have other plans?”

“Well, I might, Harry. It’s kind of late notice, and you don’t know me that well.”

He threw his head back laughing, and you couldn’t help but be pleased. You liked his laugh. A little too much. When he looked at you again, his eyes were dancing with glee. You took that as a good sign. Then he leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. You let me know what time you’re free - either Friday or Saturday evening. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Pursing your lips, you grabbed your own phone from your bag and pretended to be looking at a calendar.

“Hmm, you’re in luck, Harry. I happen to be free both evenings,” you teased.

“That is lucky,” he agreed. “Let’s not play it by ear this time though, hmm? I wanna set a date.”

“Oh. So it’s a real date this time?” you quipped.

“What do you think this is?” Harry raised a brow, acting offended.

You chuckled. “A coffee date.”

“Ah!” Harry lifted a finger in the air. “But it is a date.”

Pulling your lips to the side, you rolled your eyes. “More like a coffee…meet up.”

“Don’t change the terms now, love, that’s not fair.”

You laughed out loud, enjoying the banter. “Alright, Harry. You can pick the night. You’re so stubborn, and if you weren’t so fucking cute I’d tell you just forget it.”

Harry slapped his hand to his chest. “Honey, that hurt.”

“No it didn’t,” you jested, trying not to show how affected you were by him calling you honey. “Drink your coffee.”

His dimples deepened as he lifted his cup. “Friday, okay?” he winked before taking a sip.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“I have a friend whose band is playing. Would you like to go?”

“Sure.” Though you’d just done the bar thing the weekend before, Harry was just out of college and was probably still part of that whole scene. And it was his friend, so you didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Great,” Harry beamed. “I’ll pick you up around eight.”

You nodded again, taking another sip of coffee.

The rest of the coffee date was more flirting and teasing, some idle chit chat. Before your goodbyes, Harry was sweet to walk you out to your car, giving you a gentle, yet sensual kiss. And though it had been on the edge of your mind all evening, you didn’t bring up the Melanie text. You told yourself it was none of your business, but in all honesty, you didn’t wanna know the truth.

“You’re seeing him again?” asked Deliah as she dug her fork into her salad. You’d finally managed to get together for dinner the next evening. And for the first time since Saturday night, Harry’s name was brought up when she asked about your weekend plans.

“Tomorrow. And I saw him yesterday for a coffee date.”

“So it’s getting serious already?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not serious, Deliah. It’s just fun.”

“Oh. Do you like him?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean…” Deliah tilted her head and eyed you.

Shrugging, you reached for your water glass. “If you’re asking about feelings, Deliah, it’s way too soon for that.”

“I don’t know. I fell for Shane on our first date.”

“That’s because you’re special,” you winked.

Your friend smiled as she set down her fork and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Marcie’s still mad at you, you know.”

“I figured as much,” you commented. “She hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”

“She thinks you’re just trying to get back at David.”

“Who gives a shit about David?” you exclaimed. “I’m so over him.”

“Well, she thinks you’re not, and she’s afraid you’ll fall for Harry because he looks like him.”

Sitting back in your chair, you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “He doesn’t, actually. Sure, he resembles him a little because he’s his brother, but they are nothing alike.”

“I believe you, Y/N,” Deliah held up her hands. “I’m only repeating what Marcie told me.”

With a huff, you grabbed your water again and gulped it down. “I thought friends were supposed to support each other,” you added. “Not bring each other down.”

“I support you! I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” you sighed. Then giving a smile, you picked up your fork. “Besides, I’m not in love with the guy. He’s just really hot and good in bed. Like I said, I’m just having fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Deliah nodded.

“So what’ll it be tonight, love?” asked Harry as you took a seat at a high top table near the stage, his hand on the small of your back. “Tequila shots again?”

“Only if you want,” you grinned up at him.

“No problem.” He lowered his mouth to yours for a soft, tiny kiss before making his way to the bar.

Setting your clutch on the table in front of you, you smiled to yourself. Harry had already kissed you a handful of times tonight, starting with the big, wet one he’d laid on you as soon as you’d opened your door. He’d stood there hatless for the first time since you’d met, his usual fratboy attire absent, or at least most of it. He still wore jeans and a button down, but this one was soft and silky, black with a small stitching design. On his feet he wore black boots, and he smelled like heaven.

“Fuck me, you look amazing!” he’d exclaimed, taking the words out of your mouth.

And before you could respond, he’d slipped his hands around your waist and covered your lips with his. It had taken you a few seconds to come down from that kiss before you’d had a chance to return the compliment, only to have him press another one on your mouth next to his car.

The way he kept stealing glances at you during the drive to the bar also confirmed you’d made the right choice in your dress this evening, and you knew without a doubt that an encore of the weekend before was imminent.

The bar was crowded as you gazed around and saw Harry returning, balancing the shots in one hand and two beer necks in the other. You giggled as you rose from your seat.

“Here, let me help you,” you offered, reaching for the shots.

“No, you take these,” he insisted, dodging the people around him.

Grabbing the beers, you returned to the table.

“I’ll be right back, I forgot the limes,” explained Harry.

“Harry, it’s fine,” you chuckled, grasping his arm.

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’s too crowded over there. I don’t need them if you don’t.”

“Not really,” he smirked.

Patting the chair next to you, you urged him to sit. He obliged, lifting one of his shot glasses.

“To you, sweetheart,” he announced.

“Me?”

“Yeah. For looking so goddamn sexy; I may have to cut out of here early or take you right here on this table.”

“Shut up,” you cackled, playfully pinching his thigh.

“Shit, don’t do that either, love, c’mon,” he hissed, grabbing your wrist.

“Harry…”

“I’m serious, babe. You turn me on so much.”

“Well…” you sighed, lifting your tequila shot. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Harry stared at you as you brought your glass to your lips. Then he did the same, shooting it down in the same rhythm you did. When you reached for your second glass, Harry raised a brow.

“Not taking your time now?”

“No,” you replied. “Not tonight.”

When you swallowed back the warm liquid, feeling it pulse through your veins, Harry followed. But when he nearly slammed his glass down, he leaned over and kissed you, sucking on your tongue. You held onto him to keep from falling off the stool.

While the kiss and the heated moment itself had seemed to drown out the noise of the crowd, you both were reminded of where you were when the sound of a screeching guitar interrupted your little private soiree. Wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, Harry gave you a dimpled smirk before whispering in your ear.

“Will definitely continue this later.”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Which one is your friend?” you asked as the band kicked into their first song.

“The lead guitarist, right there,” he gestured. “Lance. He went to our school too, but he was a grade below me.”

“Oh.”

You sat and watched the band play a song you weren’t familiar with, but sounded catchy. Then they went into a song you did know, a throwback from college. Harry smiled widely at you as you began to sing along, then he slipped his hand up your knee underneath the table. You grinned back, covering his hand with yours, still mouthing the words. Reaching for his beer, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig while you continued to enjoy the band, raising your other arm in a fist to shout the lyrics to the chorus.

“This a favorite song of yours?” Harry asked in your ear.

“It was,” you replied. “Just brings back memories. It was one of my first concerts. I got really drunk that night, but don’t tell anybody.”

You giggled as Harry tried to urge his hand up higher on your thigh. “Wish I’d known you then.”

The band switched into a more modern track, and you used the opportunity to drink some of your beer. Your other hand still on Harry’s, you gazed around the room, seeing just how it had filled up since the band had started to play.

“Do you think all these people know the band already, or are they just here ‘cause it’s a bar?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Harry chuckled. “Lance said they have a bit of a following, though.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen them?”

“Since I’ve been back, yeah. But I’ve known Lance forever, and he’s always been in some kind of band since high school.”

Just then, the song ended and the singer spoke into the mic, introducing the band and its members before starting the next song which was an original.

“Do you want another beer, or a shot?” asked Harry.

“I’m good for now,” you smiled. “But I think I’ll make a trip to the ladies’.”

Rising from your stool, you finally released Harry’s hand with a squeeze, then gave him a peck on the lips before grabbing your clutch and turning for the bathrooms. On your way, you noticed a blonde sitting at the end of the bar, her gaze straight ahead, though it didn’t appear she was watching the band. It looked like she was staring at Harry.

If you hadn’t had to use the restroom so badly, you would have done something, though you weren’t sure what. Instead, you hurried in the ladies’ room - as quickly as you could despite the short line - and began to make your way back to your table.

You stopped in your tracks, however, when you noticed the blonde had taken your seat. She looked like she was arguing with Harry, pointing at him and gesturing with her hands. Harry did the same, opening his arms wide as he spoke to her, until he finally shrugged and the girl stepped off the stool and huffed as she strutted away.

Swallowing hard, you slowly continued your steps toward Harry. He had his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the table when you slipped into your chair.

“Who was that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Oh…” he lifted his head. “Shit. Sorry. Do you want another-”

“Who was that girl, Harry?” you said again, firmly.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh. She didn’t seem too pleased to see you.”

“She um…was looking for me, actually. Reckoned I’d be here.”

“She knows you’re friends with Lance,” you commented.

“Yeah.” Harry stared down at his beer bottle, peeling the edges of the label off with his fingernails. You could tell he was avoiding looking at you.

Exhaling through your nose, you placed your bag on the table in front of you. That must have been Melanie. Not really sure what else to say, you took a swig of your beer. The roaring sound of the crowd around you and the high decibels of the rock band seemed to be miles away as you stared at Harry, hoping he would say something. Finally, you spoke, for the silence between you was driving you crazy.

“Harry…” you leaned forward, placing your hand on his arm. He lifted his head to look at you, but his expression was not one you could easily read. “Do you wanna leave?” you asked.

Sitting up, Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping. Then he shook his head. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Me too,” you mouthed, though you didn’t really say the words loud enough to hear. Then you took his hand and looked him in the eye. “Harry, I’m enjoying being with you. I really like you. But…I don’t wanna be…”

“Shh,” he silenced you, pulling you to him in an embrace. Then he softly said the things in your ear that you’d hoped he would. “You’re not, sweetheart. Don’t even think it. I’ll tell you more about her later, if you wanna know. But it’s been over for a while. Alright?”

Pulling back, Harry looked at you, studying your face. “I don’t wanna leave…at least not yet. I wanna be here…with you.”

You nodded eagerly, believing his words…wanting to believe them. Bringing his hands to your face, he cupped your cheeks and placed a tender kiss on your lips. Blinking your eyes, you decided to let it go for now. He’d said she was an ex. He obviously knew who your ex was now. Maybe you were even.

You enjoyed the rest of the band’s first set until they stopped to take a fifteen minute break. Lance recognized Harry when he set down his guitar, and walked off the stage to greet him. When Harry introduced him to you, Lance gave a smile and a thank you for coming. They chatted and reminisced for a bit, and you half-wondered if Melanie’s name would come up, but it didn’t.

After Lance left, Harry announced he was going to the bathroom and would return with more drinks. You people-watched while he was away, swinging your legs underneath the table to the beat of the music playing through the speakers. You laughed at a handful of frat boys playing darts at the far wall, and snuck a peak at a couple making out in the corner. Your own desire was still amped up, despite the ex-girlfriend thing, and you secretly hoped Harry would decide to take you home soon.

When he wasn’t back in ten minutes, however, you started to get antsy and a little worried. There was still a crowd at the bar, and you wondered if he was there and needed help carrying your drinks. Grabbing your purse, you walked in that direction, but stopped when you saw your date on the other side of the bar talking to the blonde again. Your stomach suddenly in knots, you strode over to them and tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned with a surprised look on his face.

“I’m gonna go,” you announced. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Y/N, no!”

“Yeah…I am. You two obviously have some things to work out. And I’m not in the mood to wait for you to finish tonight.”

When you turned for the exit, Harry grabbed your arm. “Honey, please,” he said. “Don’t leave. I was just telling Melanie to leave, that I was here with you-”

“Melanie,” you repeated. “That’s her name?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Call me when this is over,” you said. “If that’s what you want. Otherwise, don’t call me…at all.”

You heard Harry call your name once more as you made your way to the door, scrambling to get your phone out of your bag. Once outside, you requested an Uber on the app, grateful there was a driver closeby.

You swore to yourself you weren’t going to cry because that would be foolish. You didn’t have any feelings for Harry. He was just some guy. Some really hot, sexy guy who’d made you come four times in one night.

Fuck it all!

You didn’t hear from Harry the rest of the night. Though you sort of wished you would get at least an apology text, asking if you were okay, you got nothing. You got nothing the next day either, nor the day after that. By Monday you’d given up, deciding he was indeed just some guy, and just like his brother, if not worse.

You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you’d insisted it was just sex and told your friends you were just looking to have fun. You couldn’t even call or text them. Marcie would probably say “I told you so,” and Deliah, while she wouldn’t say it, would be thinking it.

It wasn’t until Thursday that you finally got a text from Harry. By then you’d just about forgotten his number was still in your phone. Almost.

Hi.

One word. That was it. Like he was testing the waters, seeing if you would respond. Such a guy thing to do.

You simply replied with the same word. Two letters. No emotion.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry.

Of course he was. Rolling your eyes, you typed back.

What for?

He took a minute to respond. You figured he was trying out different ways to explain without stating the obvious.

For everything, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Melanie. We broke up a while ago, but since I’ve been back she’s been trying to get back together. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Ok. Short and sweet. No need to go further and spew any word vomit. Keep it simple.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really like you, and I’m very attracted to you.

Biting your lip to keep it from trembling, you texted quickly.

So you got back together? You just wanted him to tell you already. Nip it in the bud.

Yes. I’m sorry, Y/N. And I’m sorry I haven’t called.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Then you typed your final response.

Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice life.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you sat on the edge and let yourself cry. Just a little.

Three weeks later…

Summer was in full swing, the sun heating up the pavement as the tropical cocktails cooled your throat. You laid between Marcie and Deliah on the pool chairs, sunglasses on your face and a piña colada in your hand. This time the party was hosted by one of Marcie’s colleagues, Jennifer, whose husband was a doctor. Needless to say, the house was gorgeous, the enormous pool and outdoor bar only the icing on the cake.

You were glad to be hanging out with your girlfriends again. While you’d never gone into details about the Harry charade, you’d merely told them they were right, and that he was just wanting a piece of ass. You told them you were over it - in fact, had brushed it off your shoulders like it was nothing - when in truth, it had taken you a bit until the memory of Harry’s touch, his plump lips on yours, his cock deep inside of you had completely vanished.

Who were you kidding? He was still on your mind, every fucking day. But you weren’t about to tell them that.

Ian came up to Marcie and handed her another tequila sunrise, taking her empty glass from her. She thanked him with a term of endearment and you felt your stomach clench. Sipping on your cocktail, you watched the people in the pool throw a beach ball around. Suddenly, the music that was playing through the tiny, hidden speakers switched from the Sabrina Carpenter song you liked to a rock tune by Bon Jovi, immediately transporting you back to the last time you’d heard it.

You could still see him sitting there in Trevor’s loft, holding the glass of beer, a snapback backwards on his head as he stared at you. And as if he had known you were thinking about him, like magic he appeared.

He stood on the other side of the pool, wearing yellow swim trunks and a white t-shirt, sandals on his feet, and a fucking backwards cap on his head. Black shades covered his eyes, but you could swear he was looking right at you, despite the blonde in the blue bikini holding his hand right next to him.

Greg, Jennifer’s husband walked up to him then, and Harry shook hands with him. Then he turned towards the pool chairs behind him where he removed his cap and shirt and laid them down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was too much to bear, so you shoved your drink at Deliah who glared at you in surprise.

“I don’t feel so well,” you muttered. “Going to the bathroom.”

Slipping into your sandals with haste, you rushed to the back door where Jennifer was just exiting.

“Oh, hey, I just put out more snacks on the kitchen island!” she announced. “Help yourself!”

“Thanks,” you said hurriedly, setting your sunglasses on your head before bolting for the stairs.

You figured a bathroom upstairs would be more private. With relief, you found one halfway down the hall and locked the door behind you.

You can do this! You breathed to yourself. Remember, he’s just a guy.

Taking several more breaths, you used the toilet and washed your hands before deciding you most definitely could do this. It wasn’t like it had been with David. You hadn’t been pining over Harry for twelve years.

Skipping down the stairs, you decided to stop in the kitchen to check out the snacks. You paused when you saw Harry inspecting the fruit and finger sandwiches, laying several on a paper plate. When he lifted his eyes and saw you, he looked surprised.

“Y/N. I…I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sure you did,” you quipped, grabbing a plate for yourself. “You saw me outside.”

“I promise, I didn’t,” he chuckled. “But…it’s good to see you.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, reaching for the dip.

“I mean it. You look…amazing.” You watched his eyes follow down your body in your two-piece bathing suit.

“Thanks,” you clipped as you diverted your gaze and started piling potato chips onto your plate.

Making your way around the island, you stopped in front of the watermelon, grabbing several chunks with your plastic fork. Harry hadn’t seemed to move since you walked in the room. But you heard him speak again when you reached for the sandwiches.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“I really am sorry. I was hoping we could be friends.”

Finally looking at him again, you noticed a somber look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. Regret? Maybe.

“Friends? Sure.”

“You mean it?”

With a nervous chuckle, you shrugged. “Whatever, Harry. But to be honest, I don’t usually become friends with a guy after I’ve slept with him.”

The back door opened again and Greg held it for one of the other guests.

“Oh, can you keep that open for me, please?” you called, carrying your plate of goodies. “Thank you!”

Stepping back out into the sun, you returned to your friends, leaving Harry alone on his island.

The hot afternoon had begun to cool down as the evening breeze blew in. Both Marcie and Deliah had been kind enough to let you know they’d noticed Harry had arrived but would be happy to leave with you if you wanted. You gave them both hugs, assuring them you were fine. Of course it was a lie, but one you were willing to tell for your own sanity.

You hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of him. He stayed on his side of the pool for the most part, and you figured it was mostly due to his girlfriend. Surely she knew you were there as well, and was avoiding any more uncomfortable situations. So other than getting in the pool for a bit yourself, you pretty much stayed in your chair or sat at an umbrella-covered table with your friends.

And of course, the alcohol helped. By four o’clock you’d had a pretty good buzz going and continued to keep it for the rest of the afternoon. It was much easier to have fun and not worry about the hot guy on the other side of the pool when you were tipsy.

By the time the sun was setting, Greg and some of his friends had grilled a delicious feast, everyone partaking with pleasure after the long, hot day. Afterwards, a few people started a game of volleyball in the pool, including Harry. When the other side needed another team member, you decided to join in.

“Y/N, are you crazy?” squealed Deliah.

“No, just drunk,” you laughed.

Taking a spot near the net, you watched Harry as he watched you through his shades. When he missed a serve, you snorted.

“How you gonna see the ball, frat boy?” you heckled. “It’s dark now.”

Slipping his sunglasses off his face, you caught the way he scowled at you. You also didn’t miss the way Melanie leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

The game continued, each team earning two points. But when Harry served, and the ball barely went over the net, you missed it.

“Tough break, princess,” Harry smirked, earning him a piercing look from Melanie.

“I shoulda gotten that one,” said the man standing next to you. “Not your fault.”

You smiled widely at him, knowing full well that Harry’s eyes were on you. This went on for a while. Though it wasn’t a tough game, you definitely got a glimpse of how competitive Harry could be. But you had to admit to yourself it was a turn-on. And though your team ended up losing, you were secretly happy that Harry got the win.

After the game, you grabbed your towel and headed for the house to change into your other clothes you had brought with you. You’d left your bag in a corner beside the sofa, and when you grabbed it and started up the stairs, you heard your name. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Harry coming up behind you.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Just wanted to say that was fun,” he smiled his dimpled grin.

“The volleyball game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you think so? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did,” you nodded, reaching the top of the stairs.

“So we can be friends,” he commented.

Stopping in front of the bathroom door, you turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. His cap was back on his head, his eyes bloodshot from the chlorine. But he looked incredible. His skin was tan, as though he’d probably already been out in the sun many times that summer already. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing his tattoos. And damn if those dimples didn’t make you want to swoon.

“Playing a game with you and your girlfriend does not make us friends,” you remarked.

“Why not?”

“Because…” you paused, gathering up just the right words and the courage to say them. “Because I didn’t wanna be the one who had to leave the bar that night.” 

Harry’s face fell, his expression contrite. He looked like he was about to say something, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it. Instead, you turned for the bathroom, but before you could shut the door, Harry followed you in, locking it behind both of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked this time.

But Harry responded only with his mouth. Colliding with yours, he kissed you fervently, his tongue invading your mouth with purpose and determination. Your brain told you to resist, to push him back and out of the closed space, but your body was doing the opposite. Your hand released the towel it was holding, letting it fall to the floor. With a moan, you threw your arms around his neck. Harry’s hands found your waist, sliding down and inside your bikini bottoms. They felt so warm against your cool, damp skin. He pushed down the fabric, letting them pool at your feet. Then he lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter.

“Harry…” you breathed as you stared at his gorgeous face.

Reaching behind you, he pulled on the string that tied your top around your back, then the one around your neck. Your breasts exposed, he cupped them before licking his lips and lowering his head to suck. You threw your head back, holding onto his shoulders.

When he lifted his head again, he smirked. “How quiet can you be, sweetheart?”

“Wha-what about…your girlfriend?” you came to your senses before he leaned in for another kiss.

“What about her?” Harry asked with heavy-lidded eyes.

You chuckled incredulously. “She’s downstairs, Harry. Or did you forget?”

With a groan, he leaned forward and let his head fall on your shoulder. “Shit. I think I made a mistake, love.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t’ve gotten back with her.” His words were muffled against your neck, but you heard him clearly.

“Oh. Okay…” You hadn’t expected him to say that.

“I can’t get you outta my head, Y/N,” he added, looking at you again. “You’re so fucking sexy…but I think…it’s more than that. We’ve just…we’ve grown apart, Melanie and me.”

“So…break up with her.” You let the words slip out before you realized. Before you even admitted that’s what you wanted.

Harry blinked a few times as he considered your request. When you got no response, you gently pushed on his chest.

“I gotta go,” you said, sliding off the counter and reaching for your bag. You pulled out your clothes and stepped into your underwear.

Harry was still silent as you finished dressing. When you yanked your bag onto your shoulder, you turned to look at him.

“Bye, Harry.” Reaching a hand out, you touched his face, then gave his lips a soft kiss.

As you opened the door, you heard him say. “I will.”

The knock startled you, waking you from your sleep. Throwing your hand out to your nightstand, you searched for your phone, lighting it up to check the time. It was half past midnight. A handful of texts with Harry’s name also displayed. Sitting up, you turned on the lamp, adjusting your vision.

Can I come over? I know it’s late.

I broke up with her.

Please, Y/N, I need to see you.

With a groan, you threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. The incessant knocking grew louder as you got closer to the front door.

“Okay, I’m coming, Jesus!” Swinging the door open, you were met with a familiar face, one you had just left a few hours ago. “Harry, what the fuck?”

“Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“No you’re not.”

Dropping his shoulders, Harry sighed. “No. I’m not.”

Pushing you backwards with his palms, he crossed the threshold, knocking the door closed with the heel of his boot. His arms wrapped around your waist before you could protest, his mouth covering yours.

You hated the way your lips fit together so perfectly. You hated the way your body reacted to his kiss. And more than anything, you hated the way you had wanted this to happen ever since you’d told him goodbye in that bathroom.

He guided you backwards toward your bedroom, or maybe you guided him. His lips didn’t leave yours until his hands tugged on your tank top, and you lifted your arms to help him remove it. Standing before him in just your panties, you stared at him, his fucking cozy flannel shirt, his ever present snapback.

“I broke up with her, Y/N,” he voiced softly, echoing his text.

“So you said.”

“It was a mistake to get back together with her. We just…wanted to try to make it work, you know? See if there was something still there between us-”

“Harry, shut up.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know about you and Melanie,” you chuckled, exasperated. “Why are you here?”

A smirk twitched on his lips as he stared at you incredulously. “What do you mean? I told you I needed to see you.”

“Yes, but are you gonna fuck me or not?”

His smirk widening into a full smile, Harry nodded, pulling you into another kiss. Removing his boots, he laid you down on the bed, his mouth trailing down your neck to nibble on your tits.

“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I’ve missed it so much,” he groaned, his hands sliding down your sides.

You grabbed hold of his hat, dropping it on the floor before running your fingers through his curls. Harry shimmied his body down between your legs while his mouth continued to leave a kiss on each part of your body down to your belly.

“This I’ve missed the most,” he whispered when his mouth stopped at your cloth-covered mound.

You whined softly as he slid his thumb up and down your slit, over your panties. You heard him chuckle low before your eyes met.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes. All yours, Harry.”

“All mine, hmm?” he breathed, reaching for the sides of your underwear.

You lifted your hips so he could pull them down, and he made sure his hands carefully but seductively traced your legs all the way until he reached your ankles. His body now on the floor, he knelt before you and pulled you closer so that your bottom was on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he growled. “And all mine.”

His ringed finger held your thighs open as his wet tongue slid up your slit, resting on the bundle of nerves. Your toes immediately curled, your fingers grasping the bedding underneath you. You moaned as he slowly began circling and tapping on your clit, a quickly heightened sensation that you’d forgotten you craved.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you whined.

You felt him moan against you which only accelerated your pleasure. Tugging on his hair, you urged him closer, needing to feel the friction and release. When his fingers joined in on the fun, you arched your back, crying out his name.

“Harry, oh god, make me come!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the plan.”

You felt the tension in your core as his fingers hit the tender spot inside. Light-headed, you could feel yourself steadily reaching the precipice until the coil snapped and you cried out again, your legs trembling around his head.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl,” Harry cooed as you came. “So fucking sexy.”

Your chest heaving, you moaned his name, over and over, as if you were finally spilling out all the times you thought about him, all the times you wished he was in your bed.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…”

With a chuckle, Harry slithered up your body. “I like that,” he said before kissing you. “Love to hear my name on your lips.”

“Mmm, I can’t help it, Harry. I needed you so bad.”

“Yeah? Been thinking about me, baby?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You worried you’d confessed too much, but when Harry’s expression softened, and he whispered the words “me too”, you considered perhaps you hadn’t.

Sitting up, Harry removed his flannel and the t-shirt underneath. With a grin, you sat up too, on your knees, sliding your hands up his torso. He sighed when your lips met his chest and you kissed the ink that was displayed there.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” he said, his bedroom eyes on you when you gazed up at him.

Your fingers quickly found the button on his jeans, your hand slipping inside to cup his prominent bulge while your mouth continued to kiss his flesh, your tongue tracing the top of his butterfly tattoo.

“Fuck me, Y/N, you’re so hot.”

“So are you, Harry. I need to feel you.”

“Yeah? You want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded up at him with pouty lips.

Harry smirked as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh you are so fucking sweet, aren’t you?”

You nodded, meeting his lips and sucking on his tongue. He moaned against you before crawling off the bed to remove his jeans and underwear. You reached into your bedside drawer to get a condom, happy to roll it on his incredible erection.

“C’mere, honey,” he growled as he stood at the foot of the bed. He pulled you to the edge again, aiming his hard cock at your entrance.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“Very,” you exhaled, as he tested the waters for himself.

“Always so wet for me,” he grinned before entering you slowly. “Mmm yeah, so good.”

Holding on your waist, Harry fucked you slow and deep. Running your hands down your chest, watched him as he watched you, his green eyes dark in the lamp light. Your breaths quickened as he thrust faster, his hands sliding underneath you to lift you higher.

“Oh yeah, fuck me…” you cried. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

“So much. Oh god!”

You watched his arm muscles flex, his stomach tighten as he fucked you harder. His jaw slack, his beautiful lips opened as he puffed out heavy breaths. He looked so sexy, you could barely stand it. When you cried out again, he slowed, lightly patting your behind.

“Turn over, babe,” he instructed.

Getting on your hands and knees, you scooted to the edge of the bed again where Harry eagerly grabbed your hips, guiding you to where he wanted you. You felt the pressure in your cunt as he slipped inside your walls, enveloping his cock and dripping down your leg.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he pressed his palm to your back.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, you feel amazing. Nice and deep.”

“Ohhh Harry!”

Harry’s moans got deeper and more guttural as he pounded into you. You grasped at your sheets, needing to scratch at something. When he slapped your ass, you almost came undone.

“Fuck baby, this is so good, but I wanna see your pretty face when you come,” Harry groaned. Pulling out, he urged you to turn around again. “Grab hold of me.”

You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you up as you wound your legs around him, his cock sliding back into place. You bounced on him, impressed by his strength as he held you up.

“Oh my god!” you cried out again.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Harry moaned, thrusting harder. “God, you drive me crazy, Y/N. Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Mmm, me neither.”

He kissed you then, a deep, sensual kiss before lying you back down on the bed. As he hovered over you, the lamp reflected in his eyes, his gorgeous face full of desire. He resumed his thrusts, driving deeper and hitting the sweet spot, making you cry out all over again.

“Fuck me, baby!” you demanded. “Just like that, don’t stop. Make me come.”

“Yeah, you gonna come for me honey?”

“Yes!”

“Touch yourself. Touch your sweet clit while I fuck you.” He lifted your legs to his shoulders while you reached for your clit. It only took a couple thrusts before you were writhing underneath him, calling out his name.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Y/N, you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

He kissed you tenderly then as you trembled in his arms. Your heart beating heavily in your chest, your breaths quickened, you held on tightly, urging him to continue.

“I’m so close already, love,” said Harry through his own heavy breaths. “You feel so fucking good.”

He slipped his arms underneath your back and cradled your neck in his hands. He stared at you as he sped up his thrusts, deep groans rising from his throat.

“Ahh fuck yeah…ohhhhh…” Harry buried his face in the crook of your neck as he emptied into the condom. When he lifted his head to look at you, you both chuckled.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I know,” you smiled.

“That was so fucking good,” he commented before dropping his head again.

You ran your fingertips up and down his back soothingly, giving him a minute to come down. When he rolled off of you, he gave you an amazing smile, his eyes cute and squinty.

“Mind if I stay the night?” he asked.

“Definitely not,” you replied, reaching to touch his curls.

“Good. Because I’d like to do that again.”

taglist: @daphnesutton, @freedomfireflies, @cohnfusedarling, @heartateasee, @buckybarnessimpp, @behindmygreyeyes @carpiovanessa-blog @ottawaoutlander @fairytale07 @finelinepie @hisparentsgallerryy @mj-loves-rejjxxxx , @cherrymojitoo @fangirl7060 @kittenhere @ghoststyles @harryyloverrr @monicaalexandraaa @lovebittenbyevans @babegoalsreads @gurugirl @lillefroe @adorebeaa @daydreaming-laur @fkinavocado @nataylia13 @fruitmans @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @miraclealignertlsp369 @adoredeanna

i hope i didn't miss anyone! thank you all for reading, reblogging and commenting! it means the world to me!

[81folklore]

heaven - PIASTRI - part 3

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: oscars girlfriend attends her first grand prix and the public get to see just how proud she is of oscar

authors note: ive honestly missed writing for oscar and priv!reader so we are back in honor of oscars FIRST EVER WIN AND INCREDIBLE SPRINT RACE!! im genuinely so proud of oscar and im honestly in shock. i also follow ZERO wag pages so i have no clue what they are like, if people actually follow them etc.

authors note 2: short-ish and sweet for OSCARS FIRST WIN?? i started writing this about 30 minutes before the sprint race so i had no clue where this was going to go but HE WON!!

part 1 part 2 masterlist

f1wagupdates

liked by user5, user81, user9 and 7,289 others

yn entering the paddock for the first time today! she followed shortly after oscar, spoke to some oscar/mclaren fans and handed a few who were unable to meet oscar, on his way in, some signed things she had. we absolutely love her already!!

view comments

user81: omg she’s literally the sweetest thing😭

user17: I LOVE HER ALREADY

user61: the fact that oscar fans already love her🫶🫶

user9: oh she looks so cute!!

user72: i was one of the girls she gave something too! she said she had been following behind oscar and kept an eye on anyone who he missed to give them something after he left. she was very very shy, but she made sure to speak to everyone who oscar missed and was asking us questions about us, overall she was very sweet!!

user22: this makes me love her even more😭and congrats on the signed stuff!! do you mind me asking what it was?

user72: thank you! and of course, we all got something different! i got a signed polaroid of oscar (im still in disbelief?! and it must have been one she took herself bcs i couldnt find the photo online anywhere), someone a bit down from me got what looked like a drivers card and i saw someone else get a picture of his car!

user22: A POLAROID?? oh you won😭😭

user1: i wonder if we will see her again

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 9,619 others

first qualifying in the paddock was a rollercoaster of emotions, not the result we were hoping for, expected or wanted but its ok because oscars gonna smash it tomorrow and we’ll pretend today didnt happen!!

view comments

oscarpiastri: glad you had fun����

oscarpiastri: my goodluck charm wasnt goodlucking today

yourusername: dont say thattt☹️ill try and be extra lucky tomorrow promise!!

oscarpiastri: i love you

yourusername: i love you more🤭

user3: the photo difference😭

user14: loved seeing you in the garage today

yourfriend3: i love you but those photos😭😭

yourusername: stoooop i was so nervous all day😭

yourfriend7: wish oscar luck from all of us back home!

oscarpiastri: 👍👍

user81: u are so cute☹️

user2: so unfair how they told oscar during the interview!!

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,182 others

changed outfits but we are ready for the sprint!!

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri: love you lots and lots, thank you for coming🧡

yourusername: I LOVE YOU!! and you dont have to thank me, ill always stay with you🤍🤍

f1

liked by yourusername, mitchevans_ and 817,175 others

PIASTRI STORMS TO SPRINT POLE IN QATAR!🤩🔥

He just keeps getting better and better!

view comments

mclaren: YESSSSSS!!!👏👏👏

user6: P1ASTRI

yourusername: INCREDIBLE🤩🤩

user18: more than deserved!

user73: absolute legend

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri and 6,289 others

user6: AHHHHHH

user81: LOOK AT HIM GO

oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 10,278 others

oh how i obsessively adore you.. today you took your first f1 pole position, hours later you became a formula one race winner (idc if it was a sprint you still won!!)

i have been on this incredible journey with you long before your first f2 race. i was by your side at your first f2 win and im still by your side now youve won in f1

i know how much this win means to you, i know how much you wanted to prove yourself to everyone and you have. you never fail to amaze me, especially coming back after the shit show that was yesterday

you are truly incredible and you are so so special🐨

i love you so much, congratulations🧡

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

user61: WHAT IF I STARTED SOBBING

user11: THE KOALA😭😭

user72: so deserved🧡incredible drive!!

user68: the f2 race winner picture😭😭the f1 race winner picture😭😭THE SMILEY INTERVIEW PICTURE😭😭

oscarpiastri: my favorite goodluck charm🧡

oscarpiastri: thank you so much for sticking with me through it all

oscarpiastri: i appreciate you so much my love

yourusername: you are so special, lovely🩵

landonorris: usually i hate your sappy posts but ill make an exception this time..congrats mate!!

oscarpiastri: you too mate!

yourusername: knew id get you to love these posts eventually🤭

formula2: we’re so proud of our aussie🥹🐨

oscarpiastri and yourusername added to their stories

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 722,519 others

*text on first photo reads: my favourite thing is when i open my phone after a race and i see the photos yn sent me during the race🧡* *text on second photo reads: i love seeing my boy do what he loves*

oscar’s replies:

user52: shes so cute☹️

user12: tell me that was when you won the race and not before

user61: where can i find someone like her😭

yourusername: babyyy i didnt know youd share these😭😭

oscarpiastri: just had to show everyone how grateful i am for you🤍

user49: get yourself someone who supports you the way yn supports oscar!!

yn’s replies:

user17: oh i love you guys so much

yourfriend2: we are all so proud of oscar!!

oscarpiastri: i love you so much more than i can ever express

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ i hold so much love and adoration for you

oscarpiastri: wait when did you take this photo??

yourusername: i watched the final lap in the bathroom so i could sob in peace😭

[billyg4en]

The Nanny

Part 1 (maybe)

batmom reader (i am a novice if you like it i put the part 2 , english is not my first language be nice please )

In Wayne Manor in Gotham, after several interviews more useless than the others, Alfred had tidied the office and prepared tea to soothe his headache, except. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door and when he opened it, he was faced with a strange lady who was completely unknown to him. Not having the courage or the strength for yet another celebrity journalist, he didn't give the young woman time to speak and said, "Master Wayne does not respond to any interviews at home, please leave."

But this young woman replied, "Hello, I am [... ] I am here for the nanny interview." Alfred raised an eyebrow and said, "I have already received all the applications sent by the agency. If you are late, it is not my problem, you are not accepted."

Thinking to get rid of the young woman, Alfred prepared to close the door once again and finally have his tea. But to his astonishment, the young woman still had things to say, "Please let me explain, I don't come from the agency, a friend from the agency told me you were looking for a nanny. I am the one you need, just take my curriculum vitæ and I'll leave, I promise. I promise you won't regret it, I'm the best on the market. And I know for sure that it was the seventh nanny agency you sent away."

While speaking quickly, she took out her curriculum vitæ, Alfred hesitated, but she was right, Master Wayne and he had not found a single suitable nanny for young Master Grayson. Despite all the catalogs of the seven agencies. They were desperate, Alfred is getting old, Master Bruce is a young adult and he travels a lot for his "day job". The young master needs a real presence, especially after the tragedy.

"Fine, I'll take it, I'll study it and if it interests me, I will contact you tomorrow morning for an interview. Come on time, if you are late, don't come, I will refuse to interview you. Goodbye and have a good afternoon." While his face was stern, he became astonished when the young woman jumped into his arms shouting, "OH thank you thank you, you won't regret it, I swear, I'll be on time." "OH sorry for the surprise hug, I couldn't stop myself. See you tomorrow, sir," she said as she walked away. During all this time, Alfred said nothing, frozen by this surplus of emotions that were no longer familiar to him.

He surprised himself by thinking that the manor could use a ray of sunshine like Martha Wayne in the old days.

[lightsoutmatthews]

Second Chances - Sidney Crosby

summary: Disappointment broke your relationship apart. When you see Sidney again, a year after you broke up there´s still so much to talk about and maybe there also is a second chance for you written in the stars.

pairing: Sidney Crosby x female!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: angst, mentions of break-up, cursing

authors note:

In honor of me getting tickets to see Sid at the Global Series in Sweden in November

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

This year was the first time in your life where you dreaded the return of summer. Nova Scotia was beautiful during this time of year, Halifax blooming with the wonderful nature around it.

But this year it was different. This year the summer would mean it had been over one year since you and Sidney had broken up and you returned here on separate planes, on separate days instead of together like you were supposed to.

It made you remember the day you came home from the last game of the season.

ONE YEAR PRIOR

It was the first time in years the Penguins didn’t make the playoffs. The mood was somber. In the arena, on the drive home from the last game of the season, stepping into the house.

The week leading up to this day had been equally as bad if not worse. Sidney stopped talking. His usual calm and composed presence in your life being replaced by something heavy, something tense.

You knew he took the early end to the season hard. They missed the second wild card spot in the East by exactly two points. One more win, two more games going to overtime and they would have been in.

They might not have made it out if the first round, the division winning Hurricanes better equipped for playoff hockey but you knew just making the playoffs would have gone a long way in the locker room.

The shift in Sidney´s behavior obviously took a toll on your relationship. He stopped being affectionate. Kisses goodbye turned into him leaving for the rink without a word. Falling asleep in each other´s embrace turned to facing away from each other. Back-to-back, not acknowledging the other until the morning.

The shift was hard on you. Obviously, you knew what you signed up for dating a man like him, but you hadn’t expected it to turn this bad. During the week leading up to the end of the season you hardly exchanged more than ten sentences a day.

You knew he was blaming himself for this. Talking himself into believing that he had not worked hard enough to carry the team to a chance to win the cup again. Telling him he was not the only player on the team wouldn’t help. He would only look you dead in the eyes and say something about how he is the captain, and he should have done better for the others.

Swallowing the lingering feelings of not being able to do this for much longer you tried to talk yourself into believing that it would get better when you returned to Halifax that summer.

Being home always relaxed Sidney. It was the place where he could let lose, relax and forget about life in Pittsburgh for a while.

Unfortunately, you never made it back there together.

Two days after the last game of the season exit interviews were held. Something was different waking up that day. Sidney was already up when you opened your eyes.

The soft April sun peaked through the half-opened curtains into your bedroom with the promise of a beautiful day outside.

When you made your way into the kitchen you found your boyfriend hunched over the counter, starring at his phone. “Good morning,” you mumbled. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the painful feelings about all this down. It will get better tomorrow, today is the hardest day. You kept repeating in your head.

“I´m leaving, don’t know when I´ll be back.” Sidney´s words were like a punch in the gut. Taking a deep breath, you looked him over. Shoulders slumped, eyes tired, underlined with bags.

He didn’t meet your eyes, but you knew that he knew you were looking.

This wasn’t the man you fell in love with.

He was out the door before you could say another word and when he returned hours later, head hung low but with a firm determination in his eyes you almost felt like you knew what was coming.

“We need to talk,” he said a heavy breath leaving his mouth. “You´re breaking up with me,” was the first thing you replied. His lack of reaction to your accusation proving you right immediately.

“Wow, Sid,” you huffed, not being able to articulate what you actually wanted to tell him.

“I need to focus on hockey. I can´t let this happen again next season. I don’t need any distractions.” Your breath hitched. Him calling you a distraction was not what you expected and that´s why it punched you in the face twice as hard.

“Almost three years of being together and you´re calling me a distraction now? That´s low, Sidney. Letting yourself allow to have a life outside of hockey is not a bad thing and definitely not the reason why you did not make the playoffs. But keep telling yourself that it is.”

You patted his shoulder, anger that had bubbled up inside you slowly turning into something worse, pity.

You pitied the man in front of you. He was ready to give up on everything you had built because of one win that never came.  

“I´m sorry…” he tried, but you interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. “No, you´re not.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours in a panic.

“It´s just something I have to do.” A sarcastic laugh left your mouth. “Breaking up with your girlfriend of almost three years is just “something you have to do” suddenly.” You drew quotation marks around the words as you threw them back into his face with a raised voice.

“I pity you, Sidney but I hope you find whatever you´re searching in doing this. You can leave now, I´ll pack up my things and be out of your hair in a few hours, you know, so I can´t distract you anymore.”

PRESENT

The memory of leaving his house that day still stung but the anger you felt when he left the house after you asked him too was long gone.

When you returned home that summer you stewed in it for a while, but it was overtaken by sadness which was worse.

It took you weeks to get out of it but after that you were ready to move on.

You moved back to Halifax, got a new job, spend more time with family and friends you hardly saw when you were living in Pittsburgh and eventually you started to date again.

Sidney kept your relationship under a tight wrap. The people knew you were together but hardly any more than that so it was nice to walk around with someone out in the open without having to worry that someone would snap a picture and share it to social media.

But those dates weren’t working out like you hoped. More often than not you found yourself comparing the guys to Sidney. Even going as far as rejecting a second date with someone because he said Sid was a bust.

You stopped dating soon after that. Deciding that it was not worth it to try now, not until you were completely over your ex.

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

Months later summer was on the edge of coming. The Penguins season once again ended early, which meant Sidney would return to Halifax sooner rather than later and you knew he would show up at places you frequented.

The hockey rink, where your niece was taking figure skating classes was the first time you saw him that year.

He was with a group of teenagers who looked like they were hounding the superstar for tips and tricks as to how to get better on the ice. You knew he enjoyed teaching them, taking the time to answer every one of their questions. That’s who he was.

Your eyes locked for a split second as you looked around the room, waiting for your niece to come back from the dressing room so you could take her out for ice cream before taking her back home.

His eyes widened for a second as he spotted you. The last time you saw each other was at the “end of summer break” barbecue Brad Marchand and his wife had thrown last summer. They all knew you had broken up, but they invited you anyways.

You looked away withing seconds, but you still felt his glace on you for minutes after.

The second time you saw him was when he jogged past you down by the water. Your eyes once again locking for a split second before he was gone again.

You didn’t miss the hint of something close to longing in them. Maybe you just imagined it, but it still sent a shiver down your spine.

The third and most significant time you saw him that summer was when Nathan and Charlotte invited the crew to a “welcome home” barbecue a few weeks after he and Brad returned after being knocked out in the second round of playoffs.

You were still friends with Charlotte and that´s why she still invited you to these things. Always with the addition of “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but we would love to have you there”.

And you always went. Because you loved her and Katrina.

Sidney eyed you up and down in your flowy summer dress, eyes lingering on your face for longer than it would normally be appropriate. You were in conversation with one of Charlottes friends, but you could still feel his eyes on you.

These instances continued throughout the afternoon. Every now and then his glance lingered on you. Sometimes you caught him red handed, him looking away immediately, eyes furrowing.

“Has something happened between the two of you?” Charlotte asked when she caught on. “No, I haven’t spoken a word to him since he arrived, but we keep meeting for some reason.”

“The longing looks he´s sending your way are definitely something.” You sighed. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. You´ve been miserable since breaking up with him. Don’t you think I didn’t realize that you compared all of these other men to him? You still have feelings for him and if you believe what Nate has been telling me, breaking up with you is and I quote “the biggest regret in his life”.”

The words smashed in your chest like a freight train. You had thought about what you would do if something like this every came up. But in the end, nothing could have prepared you for this.

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your full composure. Thinking about the way he broke your heart a year ago. “Well, that’s his problem.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Sure thing.”

As the evening went on, you and Sidney kept shooting glances at each other. The look of love he shot your way when you talked with Brad´s kids, familiar but that´s when you had enough. He stood a little further away from the crowd, so you took your opportunity.

“We broke up a year ago, you have no right to still look at me like that.” The older man turned around slowly and smiled. “Hello to you too.” You rolled your eyes. “No, Sidney.”

He ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath before looking at you again. “I´m sorry,” he breathed out.

You weren’t sure if you were imagining things again, but this felt heavier than just an apology for starring at you all day. His voice was laced with a hint of regret and a pinch of hopefulness.

“I fucked up last year,” he continued. You swallowed, you would really do this right here and right now.

“Yeah, Sid. You fucked up.” You wouldn’t sugarcoat this for him.

“You threw away everything we had because you could not deal with not making the playoffs. I got why you were frustrated, I truly did, and I tried telling myself it would get better when exit interview day was behind us, but you decided you´d rather quit than work things out.”

Running your hands over your exposed arms as the early summer breeze grew colder. The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting the sky in a colorful mix of orange, pink and red.

“I was ready to forgive you for how you acted in the week leading up to that last game, because I love you, and I knew we could work this out.” You voice grew quieter the longer you spoke.

“I know,” he breathed, defeat heavy in his words. “I fucked it all up because I didn’t know how to deal with this disappointment and gave up the best thing I had in this life.”

Goosebumps spread down your spine at hearing these words. The best thing he had in this life.

“There is nothing I could say that could excuse my behavior,” he stated firmly. “I acted on emotions, thinking everything will go better this season if I throw the life I had during last away. But it didn’t. I had to come to terms with the fact that the team isn’t what it used to be and that a rebuild is inevitable at this point.”

He brushed his hand over his face again. The voices of the other party guests had started to blur into the background. The breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees you were surrounded by.

“And then I came home to the empty house every day and was reminded of what I let go.”

Tears started to pick at the corner of your eyes.

“I´m sorry, I´m so fucking sorry.” He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. He reached out to grab your hand. Interlinking your fingers before softly brushing over the back of it with his thumb.

“I know, Sid,” you said, squeezing your lips so a sob couldn’t escape.

“How can I make this right? It´s your choice. If you want me to leave you alone for the rest of your life, say the word and I will. But I needed to get that off my chest.”

Taking deep breaths, you looked up again, straight into his warm eyes. The reflection of the sinking sun gleaming in them.

“No, but if you´re serious about this there´s still so much we need to talk about if there is a second chance for us. And not here.”

“Yeah, there is but I´m serious about this. I want to make this right. Because I still have feelings for you, even after a whole year. My life isn’t the same without you.”

Then he stepped forward to pull you into a hug. You immediately melted into his embrace and when he softly lifted your head and placed a tender kiss to your temple, you knew the both of you would be okay.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Anonymity [Track 2]

⏮ Anonymity

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!singer!reader

Summary: During your final tour show, you sing to Tim Bradford rather than the thousands of people watching. Despite the reason you're both wearing masks, you can see each other clearly.

Warnings: fluff! brief angst and mention of harassment, Tim is sarcastic and yearns for his wife🤭

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You lift your arms as your costume designer, Amelie, measures around your waist. In the corner of the small shop, Wendy swipes through videos on her phone, stopping occasionally to watch one. When the same audio clip from your song Jacket plays for the third time, you groan and tip your head back.

“Did I pinch?” Amelie worries, standing up quickly.

“No, sorry, Amelie,” you reply. “I just think that if I ever have to hear Jacket again I’m going to become a recluse and never sing again.”

“It’s your fault,” Wendy chides, swiping again. “Flirting with a security guard during an already viral song was not wise.”

“Oh, right, because I absolutely thought of that outcome before it happened.”

“We have new offers,” she adds, locking her phone and quieting the room.

“I don’t do interviews, Wendy, you know that.”

Amelie taps your elbow, and you lower your arm so she can measure it. Changing your costume has been on your mind for a while, and as your tour ends and you begin working on new music, you figure there’s no better time than now.

“It’s a typeform interview,” she argues. “You’d only have to talk to me.”

“And you know that they’re going to want to know things I don’t want to answer. It’s not happening, Wendy.”

“LA Times?”

You smile, glad you have a persistent manager and entertained by the fact she’s still trying. “No,” you answer.

“Daily Breeze?”

“No.”

“LBCC gossip column?”

“What? No.”

“Come on,” Wendy groans. “We can do something, get out ahead of this.”

“We can’t get out ahead of something that already happened, Wen. The entire point of this is anonymity. Who cares if people want to know who the security guard is? Let them fuel their own delusions and come up with a story. It’s what they normally do.”

“Fine,” Wendy agrees. “But they’ll want something.”

“I can do something,” you promise. “But it won’t be an answer.”

Wendy hesitates as she stands. “I… make it work, Scinan.”

Tim clenches his jaw when his phone vibrates for the tenth time in five minutes. Angela and Lucy have their heads down, scrolling through ClipTok while waiting for Sergeant Grey to arrive with today’s special assignments.

“Oh my gosh!” Lucy exclaims with a laugh. “Have you seen this one?”

She turns her phone so Angela can see, and they watch together before smiling.

“Send me that one?” she requests. “That’s amazing.”

Tim’s phone buzzes again, and he lifts it from the table to silence it. “I didn’t ask for it, Chen.”

“Come on, Timothy,” Angela replies. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah, five million people romanticizing my marriage is adorable,” he deadpans.

Lucy chuckles and shakes her head. “You think it’s only five?”

“Not the point,” Tim responds as Sergeant Grey enters the roll call room.

“You’re all off-duty tomorrow and into the weekend, right?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” Tim, Lucy, and Angela answer together.

“So are Aaron, Nyla, and Nolan,” Wade adds, looking up with raised brows. “You all going camping together or something?”

“Going to San Diego for a concert,” Angela answers.

“Scinan?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lucy replies. “How’d you know?”

“Luna is going, which means I’m going.”

“Then who’s in charge? Smitty?” Tim inquires.

“One of the night sergeants is covering for me,” Wade explains. “Today, I need the three of you on desk duty. According to one of Harper’s CIs, someone is stealing lottery tickets from convenience stores without triggering any sort of alarm.”

“We’re going through security footage?” Lucy clarifies. “Is there a description of the guy, time window, anything?”

“Everything we have – and it isn’t much – is loaded onto the computers in the bull pen. Best of luck.” Wade opens the door before he adds, “And feel free to listen to some music to make the time go faster.”

“What would you recommend?” Angela asks, smiling.

“Uncover, then Hunger, in that order.”

After the door closes, Lucy and Angela look at Tim with matching smiles.

“Not a word,” he demands.

“Are you aware that marriage records are public?” you ask, pushing a cart through a San Diego department store.

“Yes,” Wendy answers, stepping past the cart to lift a blue dress. “I didn’t tell the people at the Times that’s why we decided against an interview, but it crossed my mind.”

“Cute,” you murmur. “I think it’s too dark.”

Wendy flips the hanger so the dress faces her and holds it up to you before she drops it into the cart. “I say we try it.”

“Wendy… thank you. I know I don’t say it enough.”

Wendy smiles, circling the cart to wrap her arm around you. “You don’t have to. We’re friends first.”

“Then I need you to be incredibly honest when you answer this question.” Wendy crosses her heart dramatically, and you point straight ahead to ask, “Could I pull off that red dress?”

“Nineteen hours,” Lucy sighs, tapping the keyboard to load a new video.

“Hey,” Nolan calls as he approaches the desks in the bullpen. “I told Bailey that I got her tickets upgraded and now she wants a new outfit. Any chance you could send her a picture of what you’re wearing?”

“Of course!” Lucy answers while Angela nods and reaches for her phone.

“What about your wife, Timothy?” Lucy asks. “Any idea what she’s wearing?”

“Clothes, presumably,” Tim deadpans.

“Oh, he’s got jokes! I hope whoever is carpooling with him is prepared for that.”

Tim pauses the surveillance video he’s surveying and raises his head to look over the monitor. “You’re carpooling?”

“Of course we are,” Lucy replies.

“We’re staying in the same hotel,” Nolan adds. “It made sense.”

Tim rolls his eyes as they begin talking about who is riding with who and where they want to stop on the way.

“Ooh!” Lucy exclaims suddenly. “We should all take pictures together at the concert. We’re all front row, right?”

“I’m not,” Tim says. “But I’d pass on the pictures anyway.”

“Wait, you’re working?” Nolan inquires.

“No.”

Lucy gasps, slapping her palm against the desk as she says, “You’re staying backstage!”

“That’s where I normally am, yeah.”

Shaking her head, Lucy mumbles, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this jealous of you before.”

“What is wrong with you?”

The conversation is interrupted by Tim’s phone ringing, and he answers it before Nolan can read the caller ID.

“Hi,” you greet, smiling when you hear Tim’s voice. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re still at work.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assures, punctuated by the soft click of a door closing. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Wendy and I just got back to the hotel; we went shopping for a new outfit… I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Everything’s okay?”

You laugh, promising, “Everything’s okay. How are you?”

“We’ve been scouring convenience store security footage for six hours.”

“Riveting. I’ve been turning down interviews all day, want to trade?”

“The lives we chose,” Tim muses.

“Speaking of which…”

“I knew something was wrong.”

“Not wrong, but in need of attention. We need a way to keep my security team’s identities private. One of them is getting harassed on Instagram because someone figured out who he was from one of the concert videos.”

“Call in reinforcements,” Tim encourages.

“We did. SDPD is sending a few units to help us out during the concert. It wasn’t my preferred solution, but it will help us out for now.”

Tim hums, then suggests, “Treat your team like UCs. Cover their faces when they’re somewhere they may be recognized for the wrong reason.”

“You’re so smart,” you applaud. “I miss you.”

“Just a few more days,” Tim reminds you. “And I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Wendy knocks on your open door, and you apologize to Tim when you tell him you must go.

“One more thing,” he adds. “Get them some breathable balaclavas. No reason to let one of your own smother himself.”

“I’ll reword that before I present the idea,” you tease. “Love you.”

“I love you.”

You end the call and meet Wendy in the hallway. She gives you a quick overview of what you need to do this afternoon, but your thoughts wander to Tim.

“Tim had an idea about the security incident,” you begin.

Tim stretches his arms over his head after he gets out of his truck. The drive to San Diego isn’t bad, but the morning traffic and growing desire to see you made it feel like a cross-country trek rather than a few hours. It’s nearing lunchtime, so Tim hopes to steal you from your pre-concert duties long enough to take you out.

“Badge?” an SDPD officer asks when Tim approaches your circle of trucks and buses.

Tim pulls his VIP badge from his back pocket, accidentally tugging his sergeant’s shield out, too.

“Sergeant,” the man replies, nodding once. “Go on in.”

“Thanks, officer,” Tim replies. He steps past the blockades and walks toward the unassuming bus he knows you prefer to spend your time in. Most concerts are only a night apart, but you have three days to spend in San Diego before your concert, so you’re either relaxing or working nonstop. Tim hopes for the former but prepares himself to find the latter. He knocks on the trailer door and shakes his head when Wendy calls, “Who is it?”

“Sergeant Bradford,” he replies.

The bus shakes gently as footsteps echo inside. Tim steps back just before the door opens, and you jump into his arms.

“Glad to see you too,” Tim mumbles against your shoulder as he holds you. “Spare a few minutes for lunch?”

For once, you don’t bother to check with Wendy before you agree. She waves at Tim as he takes your hand to lead you to his truck.

Two hours before the concert, Aaron and Lucy meet Angela and Wesley in the hotel lobby. They haven’t spoken to Tim since they left work two days ago, but they know he’ll be somewhere at the concert venue. As they arrive at the restaurant Lucy and Angela chose, Angela’s phone chimes with an incoming message.

“It’s Tim,” she says. “I’d say he's asking but there’s no please… We can stay after the concert again.”

“Yes!” Lucy cheers.

“Me too?” Wesley inquires.

“As long as you bring a pen and an NDA mindset,” Aaron jokes.

You peek out into the arena from your place at the side stage, and your eyes widen at the sight. There are thousands of people watching the opening act. Wendy mentioned that your final tour stop had been sold out, but you didn’t actually expect to see a full arena. Taking a deep breath, you turn away from the curtain and rub your hands together.

“You alright?” Tim asks.

Looking up, you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Wearing his own balaclava – Wendy’s idea because she said, “He was in the videos, and these people are bloodhounds, but with better sight" – all you can see are his eyes. Granted, his face has told you more than his voice ever has. Yet, it’s strange to talk to your husband without being able to see his lips moving.

“You’ll be right here?” you ask.

“All night,” Tim promises. “Garrett gave me a walkie, too, so if anything happens, I’ll jump in.”

“Kiss for good luck?” you request, tipping your chin up so he can see your lips beneath the bottom of your mask.

“You don’t need luck,” Tim argues as he leans forward.

The kiss is short, and you somehow manage not to smear paint across his face. As the opening act leaves the stage and the lights dim, you squeeze Tim’s hand, take a deep breath, and get into character. The moment your fingers slip out of Tim’s, however, you feel a growing desire to be near him, and it becomes insatiable as you sing about him.

“We didn’t get masks!” Lucy yells over a guitar solo, watching your security guards.

“No one did!” Angela replies. “Something must have happened.”

“Tim would have told us.”

Angela laughs as Aaron says, “No, he wouldn’t have.”

You flip your microphone in the air, then catch it and start singing, walking toward the VIP section where Tim’s fellow officers and your new friends are clapping and singing along. Waving to them, you smile at Lucy’s excited bouncing. The woman standing beside Nolan – Bailey, you remember – is wearing a shirt from your last tour and hasn’t missed a word yet. The couple you assume are Wade and Luna Grey appear to be having a great time, and Aaron is attempting to help Wesley learn the words to the song as you enter the last chorus.

The next song on your setlist is Hunger, one of your favorites to perform live. Your fans have pulled a lot of different interpretations about its meaning, some good, some that don’t make any sense to you, and one too many likening it to cannibalism. From the moment the chorus popped into your head until now, it’s only been about one thing: Tim Bradford. The bridge is about being so desperate for something, hungry with desire and yearning, that you’d give anything to have it. Or him.

You turn during the chorus, your eyes locking on Tim waiting in the wings. He’s been by your side since you decided to become Scinan, through the good, bad, and ugly. That hunger has never faded. You walk toward him, beckoning him to come to you as you sing. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rather than accepting this, you decide to give in to your desires. Walking toward Tim, you give him another chance to join you willingly. When you sang the song at home for the first time, attempting to find the harmony you wanted, Tim knew what it was about. He used the word yearning, and you smiled rather than pointing out he would know. Whether or not he knows that the bridge is about how he displays his desires to you may always be a mystery, but you bear your heart in every song you sing.

Tim doesn’t move, so you disappear from the stage to reach him. The crowd grows louder as you hook your painted fingers beneath his balaclava and walk backward, leading him onto the stage. Their cheers turn to screams as your husband follows you, leaning toward you because you’re pulling him but also because you’re magnetic. You stop, lifting the mask up just enough to see his neck before you drop your hand from his face and rest your wrist on his shoulder, blocking the bottom half of his mask from the crowd.

Tim’s eyes are locked on yours, seemingly ignorant of the people watching you. It’s as if you’re singing for him and no one else. Tim watches you, and when he remembers how much teasing he received after the last time you sang to him, he remembers something else. One of the videos Lucy sent – yes, he watched them, but he’ll take that to his grave – played so many times that it finally skipped to the next video. It was a couple dancing as they got ready, and the boy fell to his knees, holding his girlfriend’s waist as he looked up at her, reverent and in love.

You lower your handheld microphone during a break in the song and smile at Tim.

“You want to give them something?” Tim asks, leaning toward you.

“Something more?” you reply.

Tim nods, and you smile, letting him do whatever he wants. When this concert is over, when the fame disappears, you will still be you, and Tim will still be yours. So, being together and being yourselves on stage is more than these people deserve, but is what you desire.

Tim grabs your waist as he sinks to his knees, holding eye contact with you before he wraps one arm around you and runs the other over your hip. The crowd screams, phones up in your peripheral vision as you lay your hand on the side of Tim’s neck, still blocking his masked face. The bridge begins, and you sing to him and him alone.

As quickly as you decided to pull him out, he stands and retreats into the shadows on stage, and the show continues. The memory of his touch and warmth lingers, and you credit the best performance of the tour to that.

After you perform Blade, you exit the stage. While the crowd leaves, you lean against Tim’s side and drink a bottle of water, enjoying the quiet backstage. Tim invited his friends to stay, but you leave your mask and new dress on rather than changing. The people you’ve yet to meet haven’t made the same decision as the others, so you don’t want them to feel like they must keep your secret.

Half an hour later, you walk out onto the stage again. The house lights are on, and your team is packing away the set decorations and equipment. You’ve pulled one of Tim’s jackets on over your new dress, and Tim pulls it closed before he helps you off the stage.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you tell Lucy, Angela, Nolan, and Aaron. “And nice to meet the rest of you.”

“That was amazing!” Luna Grey says. “You were great.”

“Thank you so much,” you reply. “It means a lot. Although, I hear Lucy can sing and didn’t tell me.”

“No,” she argues, shaking her head. “I mean, I do and I guess I know how, but… not like you.”

“I think I should get to be the judge of that. Still up for some karaoke?”

Lucy’s jaw drops, and Tim interrupts to say, “Remember what we said about drooling on her.”

 You turn to Bailey and Nolan, offering your recently washed and paint-free hand. “Hi, I’m Scinan.”

“Bailey,” she replies. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Wesley,” Angela’s husband offers. “I’m a new fan.”

“I’m honored,” you say. “I’m glad you were all able to come; the support and encouragement means more than I could ever say.”

“Any idea when you’ll be releasing new music?” Wade asks, glancing between you and Tim, though there isn’t much space between you.

“I’ve got an EP coming in a few months, after a break,” you answer.

“After a nearly completely sold-out tour, you deserve it,” Lucy replies.

Tim sighs when Wendy walks onto the stage, her ever-present clipboard against her chest.

“Are you all prepared to sign an NDA if she takes her mask off?” Tim asks. “You’d have to keep her identity to yourself. No admitting that you even know her.”

 “Of course we would do that,” Bailey answers. “But don’t take it off if you don’t want to. Your privacy and your safety is more important. We could be friends even with the mask.”

You smile. The honesty and care are refreshing, especially after the incident with your security team and the videos from LA.

“If you’d like to meet me for dinner after we’re all home, I’d love to do that,” you say.

“Absolutely,” Luna answers. “Change your mind at any time.”

“Depends on how long Nolan can keep his mouth shut,” you tease.

“I’m not the one who brought Bradford out on stage,” he replies. “Again.”

“It was you in LA!” Wade exclaims.

“The videos have already started,” Lucy warns you. “So far, the best caption is along the lines of walking him like a dog.”

“I should’ve stayed backstage,” Tim grumbles.

“I liked it,” you argue.

Tim looks at you, his eyes communicating that he did too. After you say goodbye to your friends, you return to Tim’s hotel and shower, ridding yourself of the paint. As you walk into the room, Tim is seated on the end of the bed and watching you. He pulls you forward between his legs, tilting his chin up to kiss you slowly.

“Are you tired?” he asks as he pulls back.

“Not really,” you admit. “You?”

“Not at all. Maybe we should go home.”

You smile, nodding in agreement. As yourself, as Tim Bradford’s wife rather than Scinan, you follow him to the elevator. He has one hand in yours as he carries his bag with the other, and each step gets you closer to home. Although, you think as you climb into Tim’s truck, home could be anywhere with him. There might be a song in that.

Bonus:

“Do you need to check those?” you ask when Tim’s phone vibrates again. “I can drive for a while.”

“It’s Lucy and Angela sending me ClipToks, as if I wasn’t there,” he grumbles.

You laugh at his reaction, then suggest, “We should do it in private next time.”

Tim doesn’t reply, but he does speed up.

[not-magdi]

"Be my Valentine?"

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Lando surprises you on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 1k

Reading Time: 4min 12sec

A/N

I am so sorry for not updating again, but life has been really stressful lately. I sadly can't promise you that it is going to be better a school is about to start again but I'll try.

Love y'all Magdi <3

February 13th, tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and you just ended a call with Lando, who was currently in Barcelona testing the new car. When he first told you he would be away for the 14th, disappointment and sadness were the only emotions you felt.   

Valentine's has been your favourite holiday since you were a little girl. It didn't matter if you had somebody or not. The pink hearts everywhere, the smell of roses in the air, and people all around being in love made it so special for you. 

And for two years, you got to spend Valentine's with the love of your life, Lando Norris. Although every day was special with Lando, he always made extra efforts for the 14th, such as preparing breakfast in bed, presenting flowers in a rainbow of colours, and gifting sparkling jewellery.

So, him not being here home with you this year crushed your spirits for tomorrow completely. Lando felt incredibly bad when he found out when the tests were, but nothing prepared him for how the spark in your eyes disappeared when he told you. 

Guilt was eating him up the entire trip to Barcelona. Even Oscar noticed and asked what was up. 

------

After you hung up with Lando, you decided to cuddle yourself up on your couch and do some self-care while watching some nineties rom-com. 

You knew it wasn't Lando's fault he didn't have a say in when the testing was going to be, but you were still really disappointed he couldn't be with you. 

------

Your stiff back and sore neck were the result of you falling asleep on the couch yesterday. The TV was still running when you decided to get up and make yourself breakfast. 

The second you unlock your phone, you are bombarded with posts of couples enjoying Valentine's Day together.  

Letting out an annoyed huff, you throw your phone on the couch and decide to take a shower, wanting to escape all that valentines crap for a bit. 

Afterwards, you felt way more refreshed and optimistic for the day. So you decided to throw on some of your favourite jeans and your most flattering top and head outside to the centre of Monaco. 

------

You spend your whole day wandering through Monaco, strolling through a few shops and taking a few breaks in some cafes. And even though you were still a bit mad at Lando, an addition to Lando's Valentine's present made its way into your bag. 

Your mood improved gradually throughout the day, but not hearing anything from Lando made it hard to stay positive. You texted him, "goodmorning ❤️" to show him you were not ignoring or mad at him. 

He reacted to your message, but it has been complete silence since then. You thought that maybe he was too busy, as he told you that today would be the media day, but not hearing anything from him hurt you were not going to lie.

------

And you were indeed correct in your assumption. Lando was incredibly busy today but not giving interviews and making content. No, he tried to convince Zak to let him fly home earlier today so he could spend some more time with you. 

"Oh, come on. Please Zak, I'm done with all my stuff, for what do you even need me here?" Lando begged his boss, quite desperate to let him fly home. 

Zak looked at him with a slightly tired expression. "Do you really have to fly home. I mean it's just Valentine's day."

Lando tried to put on his best puppy dog eyes. "It's really important for Y/N. I can't do that to her." 

That seemed to do the trick, as Lando is currently on a plane home to Monaco. He spent the whole flight on his phone, trying to make the time go by faster. A smile made its way onto his face when he saw you posted a photo of you sitting in one of your favourite cafes, enjoying the sun.

He felt so incredibly guilty after your call yesterday, already forming a plan for how he can make it up to you.

------

The second he touched the ground again, he immediately rushed to your favourite florist to get you the biggest bouquet of sunflowers he could find. 

The friendly old lady who runs the shop smiles as she sees Lando entering. You also visited her today, telling her your dilemma while buying a bouquet of pink tulips. 

So seeing Lando buying your favourite flowers made her happy for you, knowing you weren't spending the day alone anymore. 

------

You just came home from your trip, putting the flowers you bought in a vase and starting to make yourself some dinner. 

You were about to start eating when you heard the doorbell ring. Confused, you make your way to the front door. Looking through your peephole, you rip the door open in excitement.  

You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw your boyfriend standing before you. Well, you could barely see him between all those sunflowers. But what you could see. Was his adorable smile while he held a pink sign saying, "Be my valentine?" 

Rushing over to him, you tackled him in the biggest teddybear-hug, burying your face in his neck. 

"Hi baby." Kissing your head, Lando wraps one arm around you, squeezing you tight. 

"How-when, why are you here?" 

Chuckling slightly at your confusion, Lando answers, "Well I couldn't leave my girl alone on Valentine's now, can I? Besides, Zak couldn't withstand my puppy-dog-eyes." 

Laughing, you tilt your head, giving Lando a loving kiss while murmuring a sincere "I love you" against his lips.

"Mhm, I love you too, baby."  

------

After standing in your hallway like two teenagers, you ushered Lando inside, not letting go of his hand, wanting to have him near you all the time.  

You were now cuddling on the couch, your wrist decorated with a new bracelet, a sparkling "L" adorning its front. 

Lando broke the comfortable silence you two were basking in, "You didn't answer my question from earlier." 

You look up at him, confused. "What do you mean?" 

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he says, "Will you be my Valentine?" 

Laughing, you take his face to kiss him, "Yes, Lando, I'd love to be your Valentine." 

------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !!❤️

[captain-joongz]

Thinking about free use husband!Joshua…

Coming home to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind while he is cooking .. kissing his neck and shoulders and teasing him until he gets hard

Making him keep cooking while you start to touch him cruelly, praising and degrading him in the same breath

And he loves it, letting you do whatever you want to him, making him submit, even though he would do it willingly, this way makes his body shake, until he has to turn off everything and stop before he collapses on the floor…

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense, maybe it does, I cant really tell im too tired 😭

- ✨

(Btw you’re gonna get that job!!)

so sorry for the delay darling, i ended up taking a little break for dinner and a shower, but now i'm back and more ready than ever to tackle this delicious scenario~

and thank you for the encouragement! i honestly don't know how to feel about the interview today, but hopefully it didn't go completely awfully haha! i have another one tomorrow afternoon, so there's more awaiting ! but that one is for an english teacher, which i think should be perfect for me <3

here's your delicious little story ✨anon <3 and as always, hard hours continue and will continue for another week !!

warnings: cursing, marking, subby Shua, handjob, cumming in pants

ooooh now, Joshua is a little bit of a wild card, isn't he? i feel that he has a strong and easy-going enough personality that people would assume he'd like to naturally lead, but also there's this air of gentleness and prettiness about him that just screams "i'll let someone take care of me", not to mention that he's a sassy little bastard

so maybe he would sometimes brat out a little, have some cheeky remarks, but deep down he just loved submitting to you, especially when you came home all fired up from a long hard day at work. oh he'd know that you'd need to get your hands on him and unwind with the fierce aura of exhaustion and frustration enveloping you

he'd at least hoped he'd be able to finish the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, but then you were in the kitchen, wrapping your hands around him in a back-hug, smushing your face into his shoulder

"hard day?"

"oh god, you don't even know. janet from accounting is being a cunt again, it's crazy."

for a few moments the chatter between you flowed without interruption, you hanging off of him and loudly complaining about a coworker that's been making your life ten thousand times harder, and he'd started to relax and focused back onto cooking

but that's what you were waiting for

the second you could feel him untense in your hold, your hands started to wander. at first only slowly caressing his sides or across his tummy, touches that could easily be read as comfort, but then your hand strayed a little too up and pressed up on his nipple just as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, both feeling and hearing his breath hitch under you

"baby..." he'd say breathlessly, trying to reprimand you but his body would already be heating up with the promises it came to understand from your hands

you wouldn't stop, for anything, busying yourself by leaving hot laving kisses to his neck and behind his ear, one hand carefully massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair while the other one slyly made its way under his t-shirt to tease his nipple without the barrier of clothing

you'd love the feeling of him tensing under you, his body going all high-strung when you'd press down on the stiff little peak and push it around with your lazy fingers, breaths leaving him in huffs and sighs every time you'd tug his hair a little harder

he'd still try to pretend to be fully focused on cooking, but it would all grow hazy in front of his eyes, his lids threatening to fall shut with every electrifying rush of lust and pleasure from your ministrations, and soon he'd start messing up - clumsy hands dropping the spoon, crushing the ingredients in his palms on every hard bite you distributed to his neck, and you'd chuckle at his plight

"what is it, baby? aren't you a little clumsy tonight?"

he'd huff at your words but say nothing, stubbornly trying to ignore you and your games - and that would only stoke your fire and provoke you into upping the ante

now sticking your both your hands under his clothes, one migrating to give attention to the other nipple while the second naughty hand travelled south until you were cupping his half-hard cock and punching a moan out of him

"Shua, baby, you're not paying attention to the food at all, i'm so disappointed. i was looking forward to your cooking all day, but you can't focus long enough to not burn it..."

"don't be so mean" he'd whine and you'd tsk at him

"is that any way to talk to me?" gripping him harder, you'd love the way he'd groan under you, hands abandoning the utensils to grip at the counter, but you'd quickly grab them and push them back to the pot

"go on, baby, cook for me if you want my praises"

and Joshua would give it a valiant try, he really would, stirring the food in little aborted motions while you rolled his nipples between your fingers and kissed at the bitten and marked skin of his neck, hand massaging and squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and the kitchen would be full of the sounds of hissing cooking food and his little sighs and breathless moans

but he'd know it's game over town the moment your hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock. the skin on skin contact was almost enough to send him crashing to the ground, knees buckling and knocking into each other with the surge of pleasure. and yeah, he definitely didn't even see what he was doing anymore, head tipped back and whines spilling out with every slow measured stroke on his cock

you'd see his hands shaking on the utensils, you'd see how he'd start losing focus, not moving them anymore, instead jerking his hips in tiny little circles to fuck into your hand - and of course you'd still him and tell him he needed to do better - and of course he'd moan at that, his cock jumping in excitement

"i c-can't, fuck, wanna cum please-" you'd recognise the tell tale signs he was close, the way he'd squeeze his eyes shut while his mouth fell open, the way his whines got more and more high-pitched and his hips shook as he supressed the need to pump them into the tightness of your fist

"go on, baby, you've been such a good boy for me"

and that would be all it took for him to frantically start turning the stove off, barely managing to catch onto the counter before the combined stimulation of you biting his ear and squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock sent him over the edge and he came in his pants, shaking in your arms with soft cries

Shua would turn to jelly in your embrace, barely even holding up on his own two feet while the half-cooked food cooled down on the stove, but it would be hard to pay attention to anything else except for his body thrumming with the release and the gentle kisses and praises you whispered into his lips for listening to you so well

divider by @cafekitsune

[f0point5]

I just saw the picture of Max kissing Kelly after the sprint race and I just realised how much content that would have given for the Max smau 😭😭😭 him and Emilia after the sprint race I need it pretty please

Okay so I did a thing. Because that picture/video was so cute but I also could not get out of my head that it was very contrived so…I did a thing. But I think it’s still pretty cute

Also I knowwww I’m going to regret using this title for this and not something more dramatic but it fits too well

He just comes running over to me

It’s Christian who suggests that you wait for Max at the gap in the fence when he wins the sprint. In all the excitement, and frankly, relief, that Max was able to pull some performance out of that possessed jalopy, you don’t realise that he’s setting you up.

You realise now. Because none of the engineers bother to crowd around you, jockeying for the chance to congratulate their boy on his first win in months. Because the moment the track photographers are done taking pictures of the drivers getting out of the car, half of them make their way over to the edge of the track before you’ve even poked your head through the gap. You realise because the only Red Bull employee that does follow you to the gap is Anna, Max’s paddock PR this year.

Someone must have pointed you out to Max, because after wiping his face he makes his way towards you. He’s beaming, even with his cap obscuring some of his face as he walk you can tell. You don’t even care who planned it or why, or how many cameras you have to share it with, you’d give anything to see him so unburdened up close.

He waves to a crowd that actually cheers for him this time and you think you might start tearing up from that alone. He deserves it now, but he always did.

“Finally,” he says when you’re in earshot. It’s an exhalation, and his smile is brighter than you’ve seen it in months, his cheeks red under the lines pressed into his skin from his helmet.

You grin back, reaching your arms through the gap to pull him into a hug. “You were so good, Löwe,” you whisper, feeling his jaw move against your shoulder as his smile widens.

No sooner have you let go of him than one of the photographers asks, “Can we get a kiss?”

You look over to them, all waiting, as if they know they haven’t got their promised money shot yet. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and flip them off all at once. You’re now even more sure that this was all pre-planned.

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” you answer sardonically, forcing yourself to smile. Your admonishment doesn’t change the fact that they’re watching you expectantly, and you look over at Max, raising an eyebrow at him.

We don’t have to.

But he’s already leaning up towards you, so you meet him halfway.

He’s more practiced at this - the art of PR. Despite his well known dislike of media, he’s not above fulfilling his obligation, which today means proving that your relationship is as strong as ever, and that Red Bull Racing is indeed getting back to normal.

When Max pulls away from you the noise of camera shutters fades are suddenly audible again.

“Mwah,” you exaggerate the noise to make a point, and with his face turned away from the cameras slightly, Max rolls his eyes.

“They can leave us alone now,” he says, noting how most of the photographers have now melted away. It’s only Vladimir and a couple of b-roll videographers lingering, but you pointedly ignore them as you look down at Max.

His eyes look bluer, face redder, hair fluffier. He seems more himself than you can almost remember him. Because you know he’s happy, and that if his career ended tomorrow he would still be happy, but the track is still where he’s alive. That won’t always be the case, there will come a day when the balance shifts, when winning isn’t what gets him up in the morning, when home doesn’t smell like sweat and fuel. But it’s not today.

“The car looked a lot better,” you say, as Lando’s interview is broadcast over the speakers.

Max nods. “Yeah, the balance really felt like it used to. Couple of things we can do before qualifying maybe, but it was nice to drive a car that actually lets you go forward,” he says with a chuckle, squinting as he looks at you. “You look pleased,”

You shrug. “I have to. These pictures are going to be all over the F1 Instagram,” you say, deliberately angling your head so the sun is hitting your cheekbones like you’re being kissed by the heavens. “People kind of like me, you know,”

“Oh, I know,” Max chuckles.

“No, I’m just,” you shrug, ignoring the prickling of your skin. “I like watching you win,”

Max nods, leaning towards you again. “One more,”

You smile as you press your lips firmly to his, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. You gave the media their kiss, this one is just for him.

When he pulls away, your fingers ghost across his jaw as he drops down from his tiptoes. He smiles at you, something about it so boyish that you can feel a blush rise to your cheeks like you’re thirteen again.

Winning looks so goddamn good on him.

Like he can read your thoughts, he smiles wider.

“Shut up,” you say, reaching to tip his cap forward as you roll your eyes. “Now go get your little plaque thing,”

“Ik heb de prijs al,” Max says, giving you one last tight lipped smirk before he starts back towards Lando to wait for his interview with Guenther.

You watch his retreating back, eyes drifting directly into Mario’s lens. You wonder what he’s seeing, if you look half as in love with him as you are. You doubt it’s possible.

Stepping back off the edge of the wall, you meander down the pitlane towards the Red Bull garage. Max’s voice comes over the speakers and you smile.

“Feels a bit like old times,” he says, and the crowd erupts.

It really does.

[aetherdoesthings]

hanahaki!reader x arlecchino part 2

forethoughts: i'm aetherdoesthings, of course i don't stick to my schedule. anyways, apologies if the timing of this fic seems wonky. i had specific scenarios in my head when i was planning this, with each stage of filming, which i have no clue about because that is not the path i took, so yeah :]. enjoy early upload!

notes: alocohol mentioned!!! drinking is in this!!! reader does drink!! don't be like reader this was just for plot drink responsibly guys!!! modern setting, arlecchino and reader are actresses, fem!reader, hanahaki au

“So, how’s everything? Still coughing up a storm?” You choked on your coffee when you heard that familiar voice, echoing in your head like a broken stereo. 

“I guess you still are. Wow, an entire year?” Arlecchino chuckled, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine. “So what did the doctor say? Just a cough? Cold? Colds don’t last for a year. Doesn’t look like a fever.”

“R-Right, u-um, just a cough. Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head, mustering up a smile.

Damn it, Y/N, you’re an actress. Act. You scolded yourself on your performance. 

“Alright then.” Arlecchino gazed at your smile, one finding its way onto hers. “I hope you’ll be okay; tomorrow is all about shooting promotion videos and the day after traveling from studio to studio to do interviews.”

Your face instantly paled at Arlecchino’s words. Shit. Promo week. No rest, non stop smiling, repeating the same phrase over and over again on different networks and platforms. The worst part was that Arlecchino was right by your side the entire time during the shoot, acting all lovey dovey towards you to sell to the audience that the two of you were playing a pair of couples. Then again, you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to read comments after comments of netizens shipping the two of you together. Your heart fluttered at the thought, the child inside you kicking their feet in the air as you held back a grin. Well, you held the grin back, but not the cough.

Your left hand shot up to your mouth, your body already letting the cough take place, letting the petal travel up your esophagus and into your palm. You didn’t like how your body was already used to the feeling of having a part of a flower regurgitate out of you, muscles immediately jumping into action and making way for the disease in your lungs. Your stomach churned as Arlecchino rubbed her hand on your back, trying to comfort you and make you feel better.

“Oh, Y/N…” Arlecchino’s hand took the hand that was on your mouth, holding it in hers as she made you look at her. It took every single willpower inside you to not blush or let any sort of heat course through your body, biting down a whine as her fingers found its way to your chin. Your bones turned into toothpicks, joints threatening to disappear. 

“Are you sure you are going to be alright? You don’t need to power through all those interviews if you physically cannot-”

“I can.” A surge of stubbornness and pride overpowered your senses. Arlecchino didn’t know you were in love with her, and Arlecchino certainly did not need to know you were in love with her, and that you were a weak little coward that let a disease run your life.

“I can.” You repeated yourself, nodding your head. “I’ll power through. I promise.”

You felt like you were telling yourself that more than you were telling Arlecchino. 

Arlecchino stared at you, those crimson eyes giving you no clue into what she felt. Arlecchino pursed her lips, before removing herself from you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling.”

And just like that, Arlecchino left the room, her hands leaving your body. You let out a gasp at the missing touch, confused and baffled by her actions, cheeks flaring red at her nickname for you. All alarms in your brain all went off at once, your stomach doing a backflip and your vertical toothpicks turning horizontal. You looked at your left hand, noticing the empty palm. That’s strange. A flower petal was always there after your skin turned red and you got lightheaded. Your mind flashed back to Arlecchino’s hand around yours, how you thought her act of intertwining your fingers was supposed to be an effort to comfort you. 

Oh, how naïve you were.

Arlecchino had the petal.

Arlecchino knew.

Arlecchino was going to have the evidence she needed to confirm her suspicions.

How would she even know-

You always coughed whenever she got close or when you talked to her, you idiot, and she’s a fucking genius, so she’ll piece everything together! Your brain quarreled with each other, your body leaving the room as you stood there like a soldier made of stone, palm open and empty.

Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time. One side argued.

There always is one. 

But maybe there wasn’t.

You leaned onto that sentence, clinging onto it as if it was your lifeline. Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time when you coughed. Maybe it really was just a cough. It wasn’t a cough from your stupid crush on the beautiful, intelligent-

She definitely knows.

You stared at the bread knife on the table, stabbed into a piece of baguette. If only that baguette was your heart, perhaps you wouldn’t have to deal with the constant yes or no that battled in your head, no side willing to raise the white flag yet. 

This was Arlecchino. Hollywood star with a hundred million followers. Everybody knew her name. No haters, no drama, just an absolute queen living among peasants. And… you were one of those peasants. 

As if Arlecchino would ever love you back.

As if Arlecchino would ever want to spend time with you, a total D tier so-called actress.

But maybe there wasn’t a petal this time.

Maybe. How that word was able to make hope fill your heart and shatter it into tiny pieces.

Furina was giving a speech. You were amongst the crowd of both cast and crew, a glass of wine in your damp grip. Your finger drummed against your pants, waiting for her monologue to end so you could ditch the party. 

Somehow, you managed to survive through the whole filming process, despite having to cough up petals every day. Yes, people turned their eyes towards you, then towards the other normal people to talk about the freak you were. Coughing and disrupting every other scene where Arlecchino’s character had to be in close proximity with you. The minute Furina ended her speech, you snatched a full bottle of wine from one of the serves, disappearing into the blank hallways before anyone could start a conservation with you. You ducked into a nearby broom closet, the walls managing to drown out most of the sound of laughter and conversations. You closed the door behind you, sinking down to your knees as a sigh of relief passed through your lips instead of a petal. With the bottle of wine already opened, you wrapped your lips around the front, chugging all the wine down your throat, hoping that’ll be enough to make you forget your situation, even better end your predicament for you. If the disease wasn’t going to kill you, alcohol will. And you were a much bigger fan of the latter.

The noise did not die down for the rest of your time you spent in the closet, your head resting against the wood. Maybe no one will find you here, and leave you here to rot. Yeah. No one paid attention to you, even though you were supposed to be the co-star of the movie. After all, it was Arlecchino you were working with. Arlecchino. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted a picture with her. You? You were just there to hold her bags. That was all you were worth.

“Oh, Arlecchino.” You laughed into the darkness, head rolling against the door. “Why must you be like this?”

You despised the feeling of helplessness and dependency on another person.

You never intended to fall in love with Arlecchino. The constant need to see her and hear her voice was never desired.

And now there was a damn disease you were plagued with that forced you to confront something you wish never existed.

There were two options to get rid of hanahaki forever. Either you confess your love to Arlecchino and she says yes, or you confess your love to Arlecchino and get rejected. 

“Like she’ll ever love me back.” You laughed, bringing the glass to your mouth, even though it was empty.

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing you to fall onto the wooden ground, drunken eyes readjusting to the harsh lights, a crimson and white figure partially blocking your sight.

“Hmn. So this is what people stricken by hanahaki is like? They drink themselves out of their misery and hide in a broom closet?” Arlecchino’s voice echoed in your head, that signature snarkiness and mockery in her voice. Though there was a tint of warmth and concern in her voice as well, or maybe you were just hallucinating again. 

Yep, you’re done for.

[scuderia-hamilton]

okay, so now that i ate, drank a coffee and i more or less feel like a person, let's talk about some things...

first of all, McLaren trying to paint themselves as the underdog (again) when they're like four tenths ahead the rest of the field is honestly old and embarrassing at this point. you've built a good car, at least be proud of it. the only good thing about this is that Oscar has the potential to win a WDC before Norris, i don't care about anything else.

i hate red bull, perish.

Sauber and Haas look extremely slow, but congratulations to Gabriel Bortoleto who dragged that tractor into Q2 in his first ever F1 qualifying. i was familiar with your game, but that was still unexpected, yet super cool.

whoever cursed Ollie Bearman, come forward, we can talk about this.

Alpine looks decent, Jack did okay considering that he has to drive with Flavio Briatore breathing down his neck, looking for any minor mistake, so that he can put Colapinto in the cockpit.

the VCARB/Racing Bulls or i genuinely don't know what they're called this year, seems okay, Isack did a phenomenal job, i love him. Yuki outperformed that car by miles, that was the lap of his life. i adore them actually.

Aston and Mercedes were just kind of there, George showed some potential, so we'll see.

i love that Williams seems competitive but i hate it at the same time. i love it because Alex Albon deserves to have another shot in a car that actually functions as a race car. i hate it because i hate Williams and Carlos Sainz and nothing good should happen to them.

and now, the elephant in the room: Ferrari. i would be lying if i said i am not disappointed, but we have to keep in mind that this is literally the first race. last year's car didn't seem that competitive in the beginning either but at the end we've almost won the constructor's title. we don't even know how the race pace is yet and considering that there might be rain tomorrow, hope is not lost. Charles said that he knows what went wrong and what they need to work on, which is a positive. Lewis seemed happy during his interviews and he managed to get closer and closer to Charles with every session, which is amazing, he's getting used to the car super quickly. the truth is that, nothing's lost yet, i have a flair for dramatics too, but we have to keep in mind that the season is long, there will be upgrades, tracks that suit the car more etc. the car showed some promise during free practice, so it has potential. so let's just focus on one race at a time and trust Lewis and Charles.