#actually one of the worst things about being english is the fact that i like england

[an-ruraiocht]

i love that somebody tagged this as "#ulster #i presume" to aid me in my missed connections situation. alas. new blog, still in england. will happily meet trans northern irish tumblr-using cyclists though 👍

yesterday i was cycling home from dunelm with pillows badly strapped to the back of my bike and a cyclist pulled up next to me at the traffic lights who was wearing trans pride shoelaces. "i like your shoelaces," i said. "in an actual way not in a tumblr way although, yunno, also that."

"either will do," said the cyclist, and then the lights went green and we were off

hello trans cyclist if you are reading this, which you are probably not

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[p0orbaby]

Little fic where is alexia dating an English player who finds it difficult how affectionate Spanish people are with each other. Alexia having to reassure her that it’s a Spanish thing and she’ll try to be less touchy etc.

-

You’re not sure when exactly it starts to get on your nerves, but by the time you notice, you’re on a sun-bleached terrace in Barcelona, watching Alexia kiss three people hello in under five minutes. It's an odd thing to obsess over, and yet here you are, eyes narrowed as you sip on an overpriced cortado that tastes like dust and regret. You’re not jealous. Of course not. That would be absurd. You’re simply... perplexed by the excessive touching, the relentless stream of hugs, kisses, and arm squeezes that seem to form the bedrock of Spanish existence. Everyone’s always touching someone.

In England, a handshake is intimate enough, and in London, where you’re from, if anyone dared speak before your tea even cooled, you’d probably alert the authorities. But here? It's practically a greeting card in motion. You’ve seen grown men embrace in the street like they’ve just survived a shipwreck. It's baffling.

Alexia sits down across from you, smiling in that way that makes you feel foolish for being annoyed by anything. She’s impossibly beautiful, and the knowledge of that fact gnaws at you constantly. She’s all golden skin and nonchalance, legs casually crossed, one hand fiddling with her sunglasses as if she’s in some sort of commercial for ‘cool.’

“Are you okay?” she asks, her accent making every word sound softer than it should be, like it's wrapped in velvet. She’s genuinely concerned, or she’s pretending really well. You can’t tell which.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fine”

And then, because you’re not actually fine: “Do you have to kiss everyone?”

She looks at you like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “It’s how we greet people here”

“I know that,” you say, setting your cup down with more force than necessary. “But does it have to be every time? You’ve kissed three strangers today already, and it’s not even noon”

Alexia blinks at you, then laughs. “It’s just being polite”

Polite? You're thinking. In England, you say "hi" and move on with your day. No one has to swap saliva to prove they like you. But this? This is something else.

“Well, it’s... it’s excessive.” You try to explain, gesturing vaguely in the air like you can catch the sheer madness of it all. “People just... touch all the time. And I’m not used to it”

Alexia’s mouth twitches, trying to suppress a smile. “We’re just more affectionate”

“Affectionate?” you say. “It’s like a plague of hand-holding and cheek-kissing”

She finally lets out a laugh, full-bodied, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. “You sound like an old lady”

“Maybe I am,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe England has made me emotionally unavailable”

Alexia reaches out to touch your arm, then stops, hesitating, her hand hovering mid-air like she’s not sure if it’ll set you off again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you sigh, waving her hand toward you, now feeling like the crazy one. “It’s fine. Just... give me a heads-up before the next 12-person cuddle fest”

She grins, leaning back. “I can try”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so annoying”

“And you love it

You do. And you hate that you do, which is probably the worst part of all this. She knows you’re wound too tight for your own good, and she’s infinitely more relaxed about everything, like the world bends to her will instead of the other way around.

You finish your cortado, now cold. “You realise you kissed the barista on the way in, right?”

Alexia nods, grinning wickedly. “She made my coffee right”

You groan, but you’re laughing, which only encourages her. “I’m never letting you set foot in the UK again”

“That’s fine,” she says, leaning in, all confidence. “Spain suits you better anyway. You just don’t know it yet”

[hywonuka]

every step that i take is another mistake to you | jww (intro)

Sypnosis: It's another night out for Wonwoo, except for the small dare he has been given: to win Y/N's heart in 4 months. Could he, a lame virgin who has no idea of how to talk to women, be able to fulfill the dare?

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of virgin wonwoo, they are all dickheads except for minghao, wonwoo is a huge loser

Word count: 623 words

A/N: hiii :) i intend to make this a series (thats why i wrote fluff, angst and smut on genres even if in the intro there is none of it)!! its my first time posting any of my english works, so i hope yall like it!! wrote this mainly cuz i had the urge to read something of this trope with ww but found nothing lmao. as i go on with the different chapters, ill write the respective warnings :3

intro | chapter 1

"No way you are asking me to do that", Wonwoo said, as he took a sip of his drink, looking at Vernon with his eyes wide open. They were at a bar, with some other of their friends, chatting and laughing until Vernon dropped the bomb.

"Yes way, or what, you don’t have the guts??" Mingyu chimed in, laughing at his friend's reaction. Hoshi looked at Wonwoo, who was still stunned at his friend’s dare.

It wasn’t weird that they would dare each other to do random stuff. In fact, it was kinda the most charming part of their hangouts, which the whole group enjoyed and laughed at. It wasn’t weird either that, as they kept drinking, the dare would turn more… interesting. But, what was weird, was that Vernon, out of everyone sat at that table, would dare Wonwoo to do that.

"Y-you seriously want me to court Y/N?", the one with glasses asked, slightly tipsy at that point, but still sober enough to comprehend his dare. "Like, h-how?"

Vernon, who is clearly drunk, and even at the verge of falling of his chair, laughed at the desperation of his friend. "I don’t know, that’s up to you!! I'm not the one that got dared".

"C’mon Wonwoo, it can’t be that bad", Mingyu says, patting his friend’s back, trying to reassure him in some sort of way. They all knew this would be actually hard for Wonwoo, but somehow makes everything more entertaining.

"Worst thing that can happen is that you finally get to touch a boob", as Vernon said that, he immediately got smacked by Minghao, who was clearly against the idea of that dare. "Hey, I’m about to fall!”

“Deserved. That dare is degrading, not only to Wonwoo but Y/N. Have you even thought of how she would feel if Wonwoo goes along with this dare?" The whole table went silent at Minghao's words, knowing he was right.

"It’s not like he is gonna pull her Hao, be honest”. Wonwoo looked at Vernon offended, but deep down he knew the drunk one was right.

“Yeah, like if a 22 year old virgin who is a huge nerd can pull Y/N", Hoshi suddenly said, immediately looking at Wonwoo. "No offence, just… stating the facts”

Minghao was at the edge of punching his friends. How could they be so stupid? The lack of emotional intelligence in men was something that truly made him mad, specially coming from his friends.

“Anyways, are you in Wonwoo?" All eyes were on him, and he knew it. He could sense the gazes of all his friends, expecting his answer. He couldn’t say no, could he? After all, if he said no, he would indirectly accepting the fact that he couldn’t pull Y/N, and that would hurt his pride, even if he knew it would be impossible for him to fulfill the dare.

"What do i get if I win?"

“100$ and me being your servant for a week”

Wonwoo looked at Vernon, reconsidering his words. "And if I don’t?”

“I’ll choose your outfits for a week”

The one with glasses looked at his friend, terrified. He wasn’t scared of Vernon’s fashion choices (even if he should), but mostly at the fact that Vernon could pick a pair of boxers and say that’s an outfit. And trust him, he knows Vernon is capable of it.

“How much time do i have?”

“4 months”

After a couple of minutes of silence, that felt like an eternity for everyone sat down at that table, Wonwoo spoke up. “Cool, I’m in”

Everyone in the table, except for Minghao, cheered the dare, and ordered a new round of drinks. Meanwhile, Minghao could only shake his head, completely disgusted to the situation.

“This is gonna end so badly…”

A/N: aaah, tysm for reading!! if you wanna be added to the taglist pls tell me!! ill try to update the next chapter asap :3

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[asthronauta]

BEST FRIENDS FUCK EACH OTHER│Barty Crouch Jr × Male Reader [NSFW].

Summary: [Y/N] always wanted to fuck his best friend. And Barty wouldn't shut up. He had to do something about it.

Warnings: Sex with no plot, basically. Ftm (trans) male reader, use of words like pussy, clit, pussy lips and basically shameless talking about it. Unprotected sex, Blow job, Fingering, Pussy eating, Cum in mouth, Cum in pussy, Dirty talk, Begging to be filled, Use of the words good boy & bitch, Public kind of thing? Enjoy 😋

Also, [N/N] means nickname. It can be the shorter version of your name or wtv you want.

Btw, english is not my first language so there may be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Barty was so fucking annoying.

Look, Hogwarts was beautiful and magical and huge but the exams were actually terrifying. You did not want to fail an exam. That's why [Y/N] found the most sought-after corner of the library to study. Which was, in fact, the place he always used to pick. A hidden table in the back plus the late hours of the night that occurred were the perfect combination to study without interruptions. Or, that's how it was supposed to be. But Barty fucking Crouch chased him. Which was actually shit because now his secret place wasn't secret anymore and now he'll have to find a new place where he could find some peace and some quiet.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. The most annoying person [Y/N] ever met and also his best friend. Yeah, that's how things worked. In first year Barty used to chase him everywhere and [Y/N] used to hide from him. Well, some things never change. — It was probably three in the morning and [Y/N] was actually worried about his exam, but Barty just wouldn't shut his mouth. It was nothing new but [Y/N] really needed for him to shut the fuck up.

Barty Junior created his own fame. - He knew perfectly well the image people had of him and he revelled in it. He knew the effect he had on people and it inflated his ego in a way he adored. No one escaped it; not even the teachers. Not even [Y/N]. — At first they were children; of course they had no feelings for each other, but as the years went by, the sexual tension grew. Because Barty fucking Crouch was just too hot and the worst thing was that he knew it perfectly well. It was fucking annoying. So [Y/N] really meant it when he blurted-

“If I suck your cock you'll shut the fuck up?”

It was the kind of proposal that if you didn't accept; it was just a joke, but if you did accept..

Barty was sitting in front of him and [Y/N] saw the look on his face when his brain registered what he said. There was a second of silence where Barty looked at him with genuine surprise. Searching in [Y/N] for a trace of it being a lie and when he didn't find it a smirk began to grow on his stupid face. And that was when [Y/N] realized everything went to hell because he was fucking serious and Barty too.

“Is that a bribe?”

The words slipped from his mouth with an air of amusement. [Y/N] had no idea why every word that came out of Barty's mouth made him utterly mad. I mean, they were supposed to be best friends. But every sound Barty made was a reason why [Y/N] wanted to sew his lips together, and that's been happening more often lately. Maybe because Barty was hooking up with more and more people and [Y/N] couldn't stand to have him around anymore. And maybe a 'please shut up' would have worked just right but [Y/N] already walked into the lion's den and oh, Barty wasn't going to let him go.

“Take it as you wish” There was no way [Y/N] was turning back now. Barty would tease him for life if he did. - He was already at the dance; now he had to dance.

Barty looked at him. Smirking. Smirking at [Y/N]'s face cause he knew he already won. “Do it, and I'll stay quiet.”

Yeah, fuck.

•

•

•

[Y/N] wasn't an angel; but he never thought he'd fuck his best friend. I mean, not that it would ever really happen. Because fuck he'd fantasized about that thousand of times. - He was always curious. Can you blame him? He was surrounded by hot people. Anyone in his place would speculate about how his classmates' dicks were like. And Barty dripped with sexual energy. And [Y/N] was just a boy.

Barty was no longer sitting but standing, leaning on the table, looking down at [Y/N] who was kneeling on the library floor. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? he was on his knees about to suck his best friend's cock and he was getting so wet already. And Barty still had all his clothes on. He was literally salivating as he undid Barty's belt - he didn't know he wanted this that much.

Barty didn't say a word. Finally what [Y/N] wanted but fuck he was so nervous he needed Barty to say something stupid. - He had no idea what was going through Bartemius' mind and his own kept going at the speed of light as he undid the zip of Barty's pants, finally catching a glimpse of his underwear. — He was avoiding Barty's eyes but he could tell he was looking at him. At his every move. And he thought he saw a slight, almost invisible blush on the other boy's cheeks.

He was nervous as fuck but Barty didn't have to know that. So when his pants were off [Y/N] was quick to pull down Barty's underwear in one go. And Jesus Christ Barty was big. And hard. So hard it was already standing in front of his face as if his cock was fucking pointing at him. — Fuck, he has a good one [Y/N] bit his lip to prevent that unforgivable phrase from leaving his mouth. - It was thick and looked fucking heavy. His pussy soaked, staining his underwear. He could feel the wetness between his pressed together thighs. As if his body knew that maybe that thing would enter him soon and that made him blush so damn much because fuck he wanted that thing in his pussy-

He took it in his hand, first. He heard the way Barty gasped and how his body tensed and it sent a shiver down his spine. He began to stroke. Up and down. From the tip to the base. His eyes trailing over the tattoo on Barty's hip that ran down to his cock; a snake. Feeling the soft skin on his palm and the veins. Squeezing. Feeling how hard the muscle was. “Yes, just like that” Barty muttered and [Y/N] swallowed the saliva that was gathering in his mouth. He never heard that tone in Barty's voice before and it was doing things to him. — Eventually Barty began to buck his hips against [Y/N]'s hand, fucking that tight, warm grip around his length. [Y/N] was having trouble since he was mesmerized by the scene in front of him so Barty reached down, encircling [Y/N]'s wrist with his hand and keeping his grip still as he fucked it. Barty groaned. [Y/N] could feel the way the muscle tensed and the veins stood out. “Fuck... That's it.. you're good with that little hand of yours” [Y/N] almost groaned at that.

“Barty, fuck” he moaned. Almost pitifully. Because he couldn't believe his best friend was saying those nasty things to him. And he was being a slut for it. There was no words to describe it just fuck. It felt so fucking wrong but also so damn good. — Barty began to move faster. His breathing quickening. As if he wanted to cum. His grip on [Y/N]'s wrist tightened and [Y/N] didn't care to tell him to stop. Because fuck he didn't want him to stop. “Ah, yes, fuck... You're gonna make me cum soon” Barty gasped. [Y/N] sighed. Tempted to rub himself against something because his already soaked pussy was crying out for some attention. He could feel how damn sensitive his clit got.

Barty was close. That thought gave him chills because he could see it. Right in front of him. And it was him who was giving Barty that pleasure. It was him that Barty was so eager for. [Y/N] could see how Barty's swollen, red cocktip bobbed in and out of his fist. Moving tantalizingly closer and then away from his face. He had a close-up of how the tip became wetter and wetter, leaking with precum that eventually ran down to his hand and then to the floor. “Wait” he gasped. Fuck. It must be salty, he thought. He didn't give a fuck. He couldn't let Barty's cum on the floor. It was his; he was causing it. He couldn't let it on the floor. “I want it in my mouth”

“Atta boy” Barty growled and [Y/N] almost came. He leaned down, closing his eyes dreamily before taking the wet tip into his mouth. “Ah, fuck” Barty hissed, feeling every swirl and suck as [Y/N] lapped his precum. One of his hands held tight on the edge of the table while the other found its way to [Y/N]'s hair. Squeezing the strands between his fingers. Getting a proper grip that left the other boy's head immobile; just so Barty could move freely. - He pushed the rest of his cock into that eager mouth. Well-, half. Cause Barty didn't get to sink completely when he felt his cockhead hit the back of [Y/N]'s throat. “Oh yes fuck” Barty gasped, looking down to find [Y/N]'s eyes looking up at him. “Mhm.. this is what you wanted, right?” He hummed as he began to move slowly. Tentatively bumping against the back of [Y/N]'s throat, gradually sinking deeper. “Fuck [N/N], I can't believe I'm fucking your mouth” [Y/N] sighed on Barty's cock at that. The fact that Barty was using his nickname only made him feel guiltier and hornier.

He was trying; relaxing his throat, letting Barty dictate the pace. He didn't want to disappoint him. That morning they were having breakfast with Reg and Evan; as they had been doing for years. Who would have thought that by the end of the day Barty would be fucking his mouth. — [Y/N] closed his eyes; and Barty saw it as a sign to let go. He began to fuck his mouth properly; urging, pushing [Y/N]'s head closer as his hips moved in and out of that wet mouth. “Fuck yes, take it” he hissed, pressing his lips together. Frowning as he felt himself getting closer to cumming in his best friend's mouth. “Fuck [N/N], you're making me fucking close for you, fuck... ” he was trying to keep his voice down; although the library was empty the place echoed and maybe a fucking prefect would come to spoil his little fun here. “Yes.. you like that, don't you? Having me deep into that pretty little mouth of yours,” He looked down, only to chuckle when he saw [Y/N]'s helpless face as he choked on his cock. “Fuck, look at you... I didn't know you were such a slut for my cock, [N/N].”

He began to pound, holding [Y/N]'s head with both hands as he hit the back of his throat over and over. His balls hitting [Y/N]'s chin every time. “Fuck [N/N] I'm cumming inside your mouth-” Barty cried before he came. Moaning as he pressed [Y/N]'s head hard against his pelvis. Squeezing his locks as he began to feel the spurts coming out, hitting the back of [Y/N]'s throat as he filled his mouth up. “Oh yes oh fuck” he cried as he stayed still. Letting every drop out deep into [N/N]'s mouth.

Barty's cock slipped out [Y/N]'s soaked, swollen lips only when he made sure [Y/N] swallowed it all. [N/N] coughed, gasping for air. Drool dripping down his chin. Eyes tearing and the messiest Barty had ever seen him. Barty came in his mouth. Barty came in his mouth and he swallowed it all as the slut he was for his thick cock. He couldn't believe he just did that. He couldn't believe he let things go to hell like that. What the fuck did he just do? There was no turning back after this. His friendship with Barty would never be the same again.

“Fucking hell [N/N]” Barty chuckled. Triumphant smile on his face. As if he didn't give a damn about what just happened. “I didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth there, fuck.. I came so hard for you” he grabbed his spend cock shamelessly. Stroking it lazily as he stared at [Y/N]'s helpless form. Trying to catch his breath. A sticky mess between his legs. Barty's smile grew bigger. “Now what's up, [N/N]? Did the mice eat your tongue? It was me the one supposed to keep quiet”

“Shut up Barty”

“That's my boy” Barty approved as he watched [Y/N] stand back up, Barty quickly wrapping an arm around his lower back and pulling him into a hungry kiss. Saliva, tongue, teeth and the salty taste of Barty's cum in between. Muffled moans from both of them and Barty's thick snake pressing against [Y/N]. “Barty” [Y/N] moaned against his mouth. Not stopping kissing for a second. His arms wrapped helplessly around Barty's neck while his were wrapped around [Y/N] as well. “Ah- Barty-” He gasped his name like a mantra. Unable to believe what that name meant now; the name of the man he was so eager for. The man he needed so bad. No longer the name of his best friend but the name of the person he wanted to be pounded dumb by on the library table. “Barty please-”

“What do you want baby?” Barty muttered against his mouth. Tight grip on the other boy's waist. “Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you”

“Want you-” He gasped. Barty's mouth was too good to let go. “Want you in my pussy Barty please fuck me.”

[Y/N] felt the vibration against his mouth as Barty groaned deeply. As if those words awakened something wild in him. “You want that?” He tested, speaking between kisses. Catching the other's lip between his teeth. “Mhmm, I can do that for you, baby, but you have to promise me something” He pulled away to look at him. Green eyes dark, deep. He cupped [Y/N]'s face with one hand; it wasn't tender, it was rather possessive. Firm. Squeezing his cheeks. “Once I get into that tight little pussy of yours, there won't be turning back, baby” he said, shaking his head as he spoke “I won't stop 'til I cum deep inside. Nowhere else, yeah? Just deep inside your pussy. Is that alright? Are you okay with that?”

And how could he refuse such a generous offer?

He nodded. Heart eyes on Barty. “That's a good boy” he said, letting go of him “Now be a sweetheart and bent over on the table for me. I want to pound that slutty pussy from behind” [N/N] did. Because at this point he would do anything for Barty. — Barty pushed his pants down carelessly. Baring [Y/N]'s ass and needy pussy to the air. “Oh, look at that” Barty mockered, [Y/N]'s face turned red. “You're leaking wet for me [N/N]” Barty's hand shamelessly wandered down there and tested the slit, his fingertips gliding easily over the lubricated area. [Y/N]'s whole body trembled. Letting out a shaky, needy gasp. Barty didn't stop. Tracing up and down until suddenly pushing one finger inside. “Holly shit” Barty cursed over [Y/N]'s moan because he took that finger way too fucking good. Sliding in easily like a wet, slick little mouth - his cock spasmed with interest. “Fucking shit [N/N] you took that finger so fucking good baby” he praised, feeling how [N/N] throbbed and squeezed around his finger “You're a wet little bitch, aren't you?” he purred. Biting his lip as he moved his finger in and out, watching as [Y/N]'s wetness soaked his ring. Getting out of him those tiny little moans he liked. He slipped out; sucking his finger clean. “Mhm, that cherry tastes good” he hummed. So damn naughty. [Y/N]'s face was bright red and he couldn't do anything but let Barty use his body. “Need to have a taste of that before going in, don't you think?”

[Y/N] could hear the smirk on Barty's face; he didn't need to see him. He was about to turn to look as him but he didn't manage to when he felt Barty's face buried deep in his ass. Tongue lapping at his pussy juices. He moaned, a moan that echoed in the empty library and stirred the candlelight. His head abruptly turning forward again. Staring into nothingness as he felt Barty devour him. “Barty-!” his gasp died in a shaky cry, feeling how Barty fucking Crouch caught his pussy lips between his lips. Sucking them. Gently biting them— He was in heaven, with the stars and the moon. Barty was eating him like he meant it. Tongue moving everywhere. Lapping at his sloppy hole, guitar-playing with his clit. He could fucking feel the metal of Barty's tongue piercing on his pussy and he was about to-

Barty pulled away. [Y/N] almost cried at that. He was about to protest when he suddenly felt Barty's thick, wet tip resting against his hole. “Barty-” he gasped. Okay, this was really happening. “I'm going to fuck you” Barty groaned. An statement; not a question. [Y/N] sighed almost in fear. Barty was there; just one move away from penetrating him and fucking him bareback. Of crossing a line from which they could not return. — Barty was holding his heavy cock aligned with [Y/N]'s helpless pussy hole. Stroking it. His other hand teasing his balls lightly. He was fully hard again already. Leaking. [Y/N] could feel the swollen tip pressing just a tiny bit in. He fucking mewled. Barty's leaking cockhead was splitting his tender lips apart. He needed him inside.

“Barty- Barty please, you're killing–”

The words choked in his throat as Barty plunged his cock all the way in.

“Fucking take it” [Y/N] let out a pitiful moan. Almost a whimper. As Barty took a hold of his hips. Starting to roll his almost desperately from the start. “Oh you fucking tight bitch you're squeezing me like crazy” Barty groaned, pounding. His balls slapping against [Y/N]'s untouched clit. [Y/N] was speechless. Not even moaning at first as he felt the slight burn and huge presence of Barty in his pussy. His legs were weak - it was thick. So thick. He could feel it stretching him so much he couldn't help but clench around it. Barty was being so damn rough; no mercy for his tender pussy that was taking him so deep. “Yes-” [Y/N]'s little moan went unnoticed under the thuds that echoed through the place.

“You're not letting me go, are you? Fuck, you're slick as hell baby-” Barty moaned. Biting his lip as he threw his head back. Closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of fucking that small, slippery pussy for a second. Barty knew he was big but [Y/N] was fucking tight. Squeezing his cock like he wanted to fucking suffocate him. A tiny, slippery tunnel that Barty was ravaging. “Fuck, look at us” he said, looking back down to see how [N/N]'s pussy hole was stretched open around his thick cock. Swallowing it all like the good boy he was. Letting Barty go balls deep with every plunge. “You're taking me so good baby fuck you were made for me [N/N]” He licked his lips, saliva leaking from his mouth. His eyes locked on their union. On the way his cock moved in and out of that welcoming cunt. “Fuck, I can't believe I'm fucking your pussy” he shivered, thrusts getting messier. “Fuck [N/N] I'm fucking fucking you.- fuck” Barty leaned down. Pressing his chest on [Y/N]'s back as he pounded deeper. One hand palm open on the table and the other holding tightly to [Y/N]'s hip. Keeping him in place. - His lips searched for [Y/N]'s lips with closed eyes and found them. Tongues dancing as Barty didn't stop his rhythm.

“So good” Barty gasped “Fuck, so good. Your pussys so good” he hummed against [Y/N]'s ear, pounding impossibly deep and hard. Getting little 'ah, ah, ah's out of [Y/N] with every thrust. “Barty-” “[N/N]” Barty moaned back as he pounded against [Y/N]'s arched back. Holding him impossibly close. “Beg for me baby, beg for my cock” he moaned helplessly, leaning down to nip and suck at [Y/N]'s neck as he relentlessly pounded into him.

“Barty please” He blurted messily. Feeling like his clit rubbed against the edge of the table. Swollen and unattended. But he wasn't going to touch it. His clit was burning with need but he wanted to cum just from Barty's cock alone. And he was close already. He could feel it. And he could also feel Barty's cock throbbing and leaking inside. He was going to come. “Please- Inside. Not pulling out, fuck, Barty. Please fill me up-”

Barty let out a low, dark chuckle from the back of his throat against the skin of [Y/N]'s neck. Pulling away. Standing again as he looked down at him. “You want every last bit of me inside that cute little hungry pussy of yours, don't you?” he asked with a low, dangerous tone. Hands gripping [Y/N]'s waist almost painfully as he began to hammer again. “You'll have it.. mhmm fuck yes I'm cumming inside you”

“Oh god fucking thank you,” [Y/N] cried. Legs shaking as he was so damn close.

“Oh yes that's a good boy, you like having your best friend's cock pounding your pussy don't you? Fuck I'm coming-” Barty gasped. He was a mess. He could feel his swollen tip hitting the bottom of [Y/N]'s insides and it was just too much. He squeezed [Y/N] tight as he began to pound fucking deep. The table shaking. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, baby I'm coming- oh, oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck-” Barty moaned pitifully before burying himself all the way in. As deep as he could go. His body pressed against [Y/N]'s. “Inside-” he managed to cry as he began to unload. Thick, heavy spurts of creamy babies began to shoot out with each spasm of his cock, deep inside that pussy. “Oh shit” he whimpered as if he was in pain; body tense and stiff as his thick load was planted. Letting out a muffled moan the moment he felt [Y/N] cumming just as his cum began to fill him. Milking him.

The moment Barty finished unloading his body fell exhausted on top of [Y/N]. Breathing hard against the skin of his back. Where he planted a kiss when he finally caught his breath. “...Fuck”

“Fuck indeed” [Y/N] sighed. Finally regaining his voice after a while. Both their chests rose and fell, having exhausted all their stamina. Especially Barty who could feel himself getting flaccid inside [Y/N]'s slippery hole.

“I came... so fucking hard” Barty mumbled. Hands still on [Y/N]'s waist. Holding him firmly close. As if he wanted to cuddle. He was a big baby. [Y/N] rolled his eyes.

“Me too” he shifted a little. Feeling all the stuffing that Barty just pumped into him.

“We should do this every day, [N/N]” Barty chuckled a little. Humming after. His cock tender and soft now. Letting the liquid drip down his balls and [Y/N]'s thighs. Cheek still pressed against [Y/N]'s back. “...I think I may love you”

“Fuck... shut up, Barty.” Barty pouted.

[katiascraft]

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ "Maybe i should've told you i miss you. But i don't know if you feel the same" | OP81 ✧₊⁺

parings: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: your insecurities lead to lose the love of your life, but destiny always play its worst (or best) cards for you. in the aftermath of it all, two souls become one (again). or that's what you'd like.

inspired by: gracie abrams music ⤦

⟢ ‘almost said I miss you’ EP: tracklist

➥ track 1 - mean it

➥ track 2 - stay

➥ track 3- I miss you, I’m sorry

word count: 6k.

warnings: angst. and a little fluff. mentions of insecurieties, trauma and depression. not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) erros. not proofread.

MASTERLIST

「 ✦ The ticking clock ✦ ���

You took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking and your stress levels were at their peak.

“You are always picking fights, y/n. I'm tired, "Oscar said, clearly annoyed. Is not that you always fought or had a toxic relationship, no. but lately, things got harder between you two. Stupid fights now and then. Dead silence that creeps you out everytime. Coldness was the new dynamic you had going on. And it hurts.

Everyday hurts lately.

“Oscar, I'm not always picking fights. For fucks sake, just wanted to know why you are so cold all the time to me!” you didn't want to raise your tone but desperation never took the best out of you. He was shocked, his head disapproving. Probably done with all of this. Done with you. You didn't want to admit it but maybe it was true. 

“I'm not being cold to you, y/n. I already explained it to you: I'm tired. My job it's complicated enough to come home to be even more complicated. Just stop” he said leaving the kitchen, leaving you behind hanging in your words. That made you so you followed him down to the living room. 

“Oscar, don't leave me talking alone, please! Why do you always have to run away? I have feelings actually you know? I would love to express them to my lover so we can have a proper conversation, what do you think about that?”

“y/n, bullshit. Don't act like I'm a monster who doesn't listen to you. If i didnt we wouldn't have this argument. Stop playing the victim for once. You don't hear me out either anyway” he gritted his teeth trying not to follow you down with your anger. He didn't want to raise his voice towards you. 

“Playing victim? You're an impossible oscar. I only asked you a fucking question, what did i do wrong for you to ignore me and act so cold? And you said you're just tired and that's bullshit” you were so angry by now. Offended. Hurt by his words. Hurt by the fact you were happy once and now everything is falling apart. You never hurt this deep before. 

“It's not!” he couldn't anymore with all of this. He didn't want to raise his voice but you made him feel exasperated. “You see? You don't trust me! Im telling you im just tired and you say its bullshit and then you play the victim card that i dont listen to you and im a fucking monster? I see how things go now. I'm done” he didn't even want to look at you. He just sat on the sofa looking at the floor. But you heard what he said under his breath. What you were most scared of what’s happening. 

You started crying out of desperation, anxious that all of this was gonna end right there and then. You just left him there and went back to the kitchen as if that way he wouldn't see nor hear you crying. You just couldn't keep talking or being around him. Your heart was sinking.

He sighed frustrated and stood up sprinting to his studio and banging the door. You gasped hearing the door closing so violently. No that he noticed what he said. Nor that he cared you thought he didnt care you anymore, that was for sure. 

(...)

You haven't talked to Oscar since yesterday. He didn't sleep at your shared apartment. He said he didn't want to see you. That hurt a lot. Your heart was already broken. You didn't know what to do anymore. You've been on this rabbit hole for several months. You didn't understand what broke between you or when it was. You felt confused, lonely and scared. What would your whole life be without him? Once, you only wrote love songs because what you felt for him was beyond what your body could handle so you needed to take it out. Now, you didn't write anything for months. You felt too much sadness, it felt like you didn't feel anything at all. Just emptiness. 

You were playing with your food, not really that hungry that you thought you would be. Another night alone without him. Would life be like this when he gets rid of me? I don't wanna leave. 

The doorbell rang. You frowned, not sure who it could be knowing it was almost 10pm and I couldn't sleep (just as yesterday and every time you had an argument with him). You looked through the little visor of the door seeing your boyfriend was back home. But telling from the look on his face, things wouldn't be better anyway. You opened the door after taking a deep breath not sure if you would survive another fight. 

You two just looked at each other for a few seconds. Probably analyzing how you were feeling now that 2 days have passed by. Neither of you smiled. Not that you had the energy or a reason to anymore. You moved from the door so he could get into the apartment and closed the door once he was in. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asked quietly. You swallowed hard not knowing what to say by this point.

“I can't sleep since you are gone, so. No, you didn't” you didn't want to sound cold, especially after you fought because he was acting like that with you,but you felt like shit and didnt have energy to pretend you were okay with it all. You felt miserable. He nodded without saying a word and looked at the floor for a moment. 

After a moment of really uncomfortable silence you broke it with something you didn't even think would slip out your mouth “are you seeing someone else, oscar?” your words cut through him as if they were sharp glass pieces just thrown directly at him. 

“What?” He was surprised and hurt that you thought about him like that. You shrug.

“I mean, it's not that you don't kiss me anymore, so.and i think you're not tired because of your job, i think you're just bored of me, tired of me, done with me” you sat on the kitchen table again. He followed you there but stayed standard. He was confused and hurt now. 

“When did I ever say that to you?” he was tired of all of this, for sure. But he wanted to make things work with you. He just didn't know how to.  It was hard for him to understand you, but he was trying. He finally sat in front of you staring at your plate. It was full, you kept playing with your doodles, pretending to eat like you used to. He felt so guilty for all of this. He knew at that moment. That he broke you. He didn't know how or when but he did. His face softened in sadness.

“You said it. You said you were done and you know what? I get it. I mean, it's not as if I am easy to love. I know I'm complicated and a pain in the ass for everyone so I wouldn't be surprised if you found someone else that makes you happy for real and you don't wanna tell me out of pity. I'm ready to hear it though. Just say it” your voice was empty and plain no emotion detected just numbness. He didn't want to think it was too late. It Has been a long time since he has seen you like this. At that time it wasn't him who made you feel like it. 

“I didn't mean to say it, y/N. I Was tired because of work and fighting with you. I don't like fighting with you. I wanna make things right, please. I wouldn't ever do that to you, you know it” he explained desperate for a moment. He wanted you to believe him. But your face didn't say anything. He couldn't read you and made him scared. You looked unbothered, way far gone now.  

You shook your head “i know you mean it and i know you are tired, but i don't think you really want to be with me anymore” your sincerity cut like a knife in both of you. Like, you over thought a lot about it but it still hurt. He was lost and didn't know what was going on anymore or was going through all of that. “You didn't deny it either” you continued.

“I'm not with anyone else, y/N, please” he cut you off with his deep voice, kind of cracky now. 

(...) 

You just didn't know how you ended up moaning his name once more. His mouth is in your centre. His hands are grabbing your tights. Your fingers on his hair.

How easy is it, right? To love someone. One moment, you destroy them.. Then, you fix them with makeup sex. Making them see the stars so they forget how shitty things are. So that pleasure it's more important than gentle affection. Always pretending to be sane then doing insane shit like this as if memory didn't exist when it came to you and him. As if feeling him inside you was the only thing that could fix your mind. That it was the only way to communicate properly. As if it was your love language, then ignore each other. 

His hands of your body grabbing you as if you were about to break and he was trying to keep all of your pieces together. As if he could save you or your relationship that was already 10 feet down buried. He would like to think sex could fix it. That it was the best way to communicate if then you didn't trust him. He was hurt and you didn't trust him. You were hurt because he didn't love you anymore. Unfortunately, your minds couldn't agree. You were the love of his life, he wanted to help and make you trust him. But you just didn't, you already convinced yourself he didn't love you anymore and that everyone was better than you. He wanted a team when you just wanted to run away from him. Or from yourself?

「 ✦ Destruction ✦ 」

“I'm done with you for real, y/n! Everytime an important day comes for me, you just like to ruin it!” He was mad as hell. Fed up with all your bullshit. 

“You really think I do it on purpose? oscar! “ He left the room so you started following him around your shared apartment. “I wouldn't if you didn't ignore like you always do! I don't know what to do anymore! Nothing seems enough for you!” you started crying out. Your heart couldn't take it anymore and this time it felt different. So much different than any time before.

“Why is it always my fault? Why am I always the one doing something wrong? The only thing you do is complain about me and then you just want me to kiss you?! You are insane!” His words cut you deep, so deep you thought they cut you in half and you were nothing anymore. You couldn't breathe for a moment. He called you insane just the way your parents made you feel your whole life. Maybe they were right after all. You deserved all of those years in a psychiatric hospital. You deserved even when he

 was the first one to say your parents were monsters and you were more than okay. More than normal. More than lovable. How ironic, right?You wanted to laugh but couldn't. You just couldn't move. 

Oscar realised what he said. He knew when he saw you. He felt terrible at that moment.

“Look, y/n i-” you cut him not wanting to listen to him anymore. 

“Dont talk” you said shaky under your breath. You had to sit down on the sofa because you felt you were about to faint. In shock - a lot of moments of your relationship replayed in your head. How could someone who said he loved you more than anything and anyone, end up thinking just as your parents? It was your fault. Of course it was. How could you ever think someone would love you? You were miserable. How can someone love a miserable person? 

Oscar started breathing heavily and he had to sit on the floor trying to calm down. He is always so collected and rational, these kinds of feelings he had never experienced, not even with his ex. 

“We can't be together Oscar, I make you miserable. And you're right. I'm insane, how could someone love me right? No one wants to deal with my bullshit, not even myself” you said quietly. His throat closed for a moment. He remained in silence for a few seconds processing your words. You didn't look at each other, you couldn't. Guess this was it. How sad, right? Oscar started crying realizing what was about to come.

“I promise y/N, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it that way. You aren't hard to love, actually the opposite. But yeah, i don't think this is working for us anymore whether i like it or not” he said wiping his tears away of his face as he could. 

You nodded even though you didn't hear a word he said. It was over. Your life is over.

「 ✦ time heals it all, right? ✦ 」

It's been exactly 8 months and 25 days since you and Oscar were not together anymore. Yes, you had a countdown. You created it to see how far you’ll survive because you didn't believe you would last this much. You thought your life was over and for a few weeks it was. You didn't get out of bed. The break up depression, i guess. Your friends suggested you go back to therapy because they were really worried about you and your mental health. They knew how much Oscar meant to you: he was your everything. And to be honest, that was your first mistake going into the relationship with him. 

You shouldn't have made him your everything because you were nothing suddenly when you left. You didn't know who you were without him, what you liked or what you would like to be. All of your future plans had him in them. There wasn't a future without him. He was everywhere in your life. You shaped your destiny around him. You wanted to get married and have kids with him. And you never wanted to be a mother but he had changed that until he was gone. 

You couldn't go back to dating. You tried but failed every time. You were a little too afraid to get hurt again. You had to work through your insecurities and traumas first. There was a lot of your history that needed to be let go. You needed to go through really ugly times in your past to find some perspective. Forgive yourself, putting yourself first, understanding yourself. You just worked on knowing you and becoming the person you always wanted. 

And you grew and changed so much. You felt proud of yourself. You started writing again. Creating was the best way to mourn your relationship with Oscar alongside your old self that left him. To mourn that part of you that is gone forever. Creating was what kept you sane all this time. What brought you back to life. You wrote so many songs about him. Blaming you, blaming him. Blaming the universe for not putting it easier on you. 

So music, once again, saved your life. 

Oscar’s life changed drastically. Not only by the fact he didn't have you anymore on the paddock to cheer him on, but also he didn't have you in his apartment to share his life with. He missed you everyday he woke up to an empty bed. Mourning what you had changed him forever. He blamed himself for not knowing how to get to you, how to understand you and be able to help you through it. So he started reading about psychology to learn how to understand people better. He wanted to improve his emotional intelligence. He knew that maybe you wouldn't be there anymore, probably forever, but at least he could be better to the people around him. 

He didn't date anyone. His way of mourning was trying not to think about it occupying his space and time with work and training and racing and reading. He couldn't do anything else.  

He always found himself not being able to think, wondering where you were and especially how you were. After that night, you went to cero contact. And he knew it was the best, but he couldn't get you out of his head yet. He felt guilty knowing that he can understand your needs better when it's a little too late. He just wished to press rewind and do it again but the right way this time. He knew it was impossible and that dug a hole in his heart. He knew that it would be there forever. You were the love of his life. He really thought he couldn't love anyone that way, ever again. You were a force of nature for him. Blowing him away every single time. 

You never went back to races. He knew how much you adored the sport and how in another life you would have loved to be an engineer. You dreamed of one day to see a woman on the podium. You actually sponsored two girls from F1 Academy. The boys didn't see you again either. Actually he knew you did see lando a few times because you two became really close during your relationship, but lando always lied and told him that he didn't see you. He knew Lando was trying to be a good friend. He even tried to introduce Oscar to some girls but it never worked. He tried though. But he found himself thinking that he was kissing it was you. It was heartbreaking to see. He was kind of stuck on you. 

So he decided he would take his time to grow and figure out who he was by himself. Find comfort in his own company. Doing dates  by himself. He found it cringe to call it that way but his therapist insisted on calling it that way so he could deprogram himself from you and anything and everything related to you. 

He was proud of himself though. He was doing alright again, actually enjoying his job, his friends, and his own company. He even won races, he did podiums and everything he dreamed of. But still, he hoped you didn't feel like you needed to leave to let him shine. He wished you were there every time to hug you and shower you in  champagne. 

He really missed you in his life.

「 ✦ Too far gone, don’t know where we started ✦ 」

So here you were more than a year later at the Azerbaijan GP 2024. The Mercedes team invited you as a star guest so you came with your friend because alone you would have died. Actually, before coming to the paddock you had an anxiety attack and if it wasn't for your friend who made sure you felt safe and okay to go, you would’ve been on a plane back home. It was the first time since you broke up with Oscar you felt okay enough to be able to go through it. You were invited by different teams at least 15 times now. But you always lied and said you couldn't make it. You just needed to stay at home or the studio writing as far as possible from oscar and anything related to him. But you went through all of that with your therapist and she said that if you liked the sport and you really enjoyed races or anything related to it, you shouldn't let Oscar or the thought of him or what happened, deprive you of it. 

It was sunday, you preferred not to come on friday or saturday just because there were more possibilities you would bump into him. And you just weren't ready to see him. The race was insane so far. Actually, Oscar was doing more than okay. Your heart was pounding, you could hear it loud and clear. Your best friend held your hand all the time in that garage so you don't forget she’s there for you. And that you’re okay.  You knew you shouldn't be afraid of him because he was an angel. But you were scared of yourself and how would you handle that situation. You came to terms that actually, everything that happened between him and you, it was that your insecurities just made everything so toxic that he couldn't handle it all. It didn't feel good when you realised that but it is what it is. You didn't know better and forgiving yourself for that was the hardest part of the process. 

You squeezed your best friend's hand, it was the last lap. Your heart is almost out of your body. You are wearing an old Oscar hoodie. You really liked it, plus you came here looking like shit in your opinion. You didn't even brush your hair nor that you needed it like before, now your hair is super short. Everyone in the garage was watching closely and before you could actually process what you ‘ve just seen. Your friends shouted “omg” in unison not believing what they saw.

Destiny had its twisted ways to be honest. Osca won the race. he won. You were just shocked. 

You were here and he won, like, what are the chances of that to happen actually? First race you’re back and he wins. and in that way. Your friends hugged you. 

“Holy shit that 's really insane shit” Nikola said, watching the screens at the garage. 

“We need to go guys, i don't wanna see him, please” you didn't know why you started to panic like that. Sonny looked at Nikola and just got you out of there. 

At the Mercedes hospitality you felt safe while the celebrations were held. There was no reason or chance Oscar walked into the Mercedes building, right?  You were drinking some coffee with you girls trying to focus on the conversation about any other driver but Oscar, just around strategy and stuff. You were trying really hard but you couldn't stop thinking about the fact that maybe he could come into you any time. Now that you see destiny hates you. 

“y/N, you okay bestie?”Sonny tried to get you out of your drawing though by touching your arm so she could catch your attention back to reality. 

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking,” you said, adjusting yourself on the chair. Nikola looked worried. 

“y/n, we can go if you need to. We don't want you to feel uncomfortable, okay? Just tell us” she said, comprehensively describing the situation and her friend's feelings. You licked your dry lips.

Before you could answer her someone interrupted you. 

“y/, is it you?” that. Fucking. Voice. Your friends’ eyes widen as surprised as you were. You turned to the voice to find, in fact, your ex boyfriend watching you so confused. You were speechless for a moment. He looked so pretty and sweaty. His eyes are shining brighter than ever you have seen. 

“Oh, hi oscar. Yeah, it’s me” you tried to play it cool but to be fair, you felt the butterflies on your stomach just like the first time you met him at that  birthday party you didn't want to go to. But luckilyyou did. Destiny is always playing dirty for you. Or geniously. You didn't know anymore. He smiled widely.

“Oh, wow, hi, yeah. I didn't know you were coming” he said nervously. Your friends looked at each other noticing. 

“I was invited by George, actually. I almost didn't come tho. How crazy, you win right? You did an amazing race. "You were surprised that you could even have a proper conversation with him while your heart was hurting out of anxiety, nervousness and butterflies were everywhere. 

Oscar Felt his chest tighter. His stomach was happy to see you, he knew. “Thank you,” he said sweetly. You looked so pretty under the light of the Mercedes building. You were his hoodie, your favorite, but he didn't know if it was appropriate to mention it. Your hair was so short and looked so beautiful on you. It actually made you look prettier. Your face was the face of an angel, he always thought that. But with that haircut it only intensified your perfection. He felt stupid. Just like the first time he saw you at that party he wasn't even invited directly. Destiny always played on his favour with you, until that night. He didn't even want to remember it. You looked so different yet you felt the same. Your perfume was the same, he knew. It’s the one he gifted you on your 6 month anniversary. You used to celebrate each month. 

An awkward silence makes its presence between you two, not knowing what else to say or comment. 

“Congrats oscar on the win” sonny tried to save you from misery right there capturing oscar’s attention. He smiled gently, thanking her and nikola. He recognized them and gave them a hug. He seemed happy to see them. You smiled remembering your nights playing uno and drinking wine and baking canela rolls when winter break came around. You Missed him more than you’ve ever thought you would. And something inside you just felt exactly the same you always felt with him. He altered the chemistry in your brain so easily it was kind of scary. 

“Hey osc! Zac wants to talk to you! What are you doing here?” Lando Norris came into the building as well. He was your friend. when he saw who Oscar was, he grinned. “Hey, bestie, whatchu doing here?” he said happily, giving you a comforting hug. He was genuinely surprised because you didn't even tell you. He suspected Oscar was here because George told him you were here. He can't keep secrets. And he knew it was George because he was sure Lewis didn't even know you. 

“George invited us,” you explained after he stepped back.

“Okay let's go, great to see you girl. Hope to see you around more often "Oscar said while looking directly at you in the last sentence to then disappear dragging Lando out of the hospitality. Your friends looked at you and you looked at them.

“I need a whole vodka bottle down my throat right now” you sentence, making them laugh. But you didn't. You felt scared of what you felt a few moments ago. 

(...)

New year is here. You were invited along with your friends by lando to his beginning of the year party here in Monaco. And oh you knew Oscar was gonna be there. Of course, he is one of his closest friends also.

This time you felt more calm and collected around the fact you were going to see him again. I think being drunk was the thing you were thanked for. If something felt rare,you would drink straight vodka or tequila and the problem was solved. You didn’t even have to think about it. 

Your friend helped choose the sexiest dress for you. It was a satin white little dress with broderie endings. Pretty subtle but at the same time suggesting. Just how you were. Angel face, dirty minded. Problem was you couldn't date people because of the Oscars. Because since you saw him those seconds in Azerbaijan, you couldn't stop seeing his shiny eyes and beautiful smile every time you close your eyes. You didn't interact all of this time, you didn't even follow each other on social media. 

Mystery drove you I guess. And who could blame you? It was Oscar Piastri, the one you had to forget. But I just couldn't. You missed his touch, his breath, his voice, his lips. 

Your friend took you out of your thoughts telling you they needed to go to the bathroom. You Followed them around the party up to the toilets. They got in but you decided to wait outside because the music was just so good you wanted to enjoy it. You always wished you could write a party song but it isn't your thing at all. Nor you didn't have the personality for it. You were too deep of a person. You needed to cut deep. Be someone to suffer along with. Or at least that’s how you perceive yourself as an artist. 

“y/N?” not that voice again. That damn voice. Though this time you were waiting for it. You looked up to find a drunk Oscar in front of you. You were breathless for a moment. How can a man become so much hotter in just a year? You smiled at him feeling your strawberry lip gloss. 

“Hoy, osc. What’s up?” you said easily. The alcohol made it easier actually. When he smiled you almost died. You Adored his smile since that party you didn't even want to go to. You thought you fell in love with him just right there. Just right here…?

“I was looking for Danny, have you seen him?” he said normally, ignoring his heart, almost skipping a beat when he saw you in that short white dress. He hoped not to be drooling in your face. Since he saw you again, he couldn't get you out of his head. You were everyday hunting him. He wanted to text you but he wasn't sure if he should. You seem so happy now, he didn't want to ruin it. He convinced himself that probably the best for you was staying away from him as much as possible. At the end of the day, he was the reason you hurt, right? Or he wanted to believe that. 

For a moment you watched his lips talking to you. His drunk voice always turned you on. But you couldn't show it. Not anymore. You looked back at his eyes. Half smile on your face while shaking your head “no, i didn't. Iwas waiting for my friends that are in the bathroom” you explained and he nodded. 

“Well, I'll keep looking then. See you around” he told you to go back into the crowd to look for his friends. Hesaw the way you looked at his lips. He had to be the stronger one. It was better this way. As much as he wanted to eat you out right there and then.

He hurt you. He didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. He made sure to protect you from himself. Even though all he wanted was to be with you.

「 ✦ the (your) truth is out ✦ 」

yourusername made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, user456, landonorris and 1,543,678 others

yourusername: i'm so excited to finally tell you our biggest secret! my new ep 'almost said i miss you' will be out february 14 <3 (trying to resignificate the date lol) these songs are really important to me and i can't wait till they finally become yours. thank u to the bestest bestie in the worl for guiding me and helping me through it all, it wouldn't have been possible without you. and you guys for the support, you don't know how much you mean to me :,) thank you for listening to my music since day one. i feel so lucky! see you in a few weeks :D

tagged: sabrinacarpenter, y/nhq

view more comments

sabrinacarpenter: so proud of you baby, my fav artist forever. just keep smiling! it's so beautiful to see you happy <3

nikolabff: we are so proud of you gorgeous! the prettiest songs I’ve ever heard 🥹

sonnybff: girl you always serve, thank you for sharing your art to the world I admire you like crazy. So proud of you baby, I love you <3

user489: 'trying to resignificate the date' WHY AM I SOBBING AT WORK

User99: THE TRACKLIST 😭😭😭😭😭

↳ user87: “I miss you, I’m sorry” I CHOKED

user45: it hurt

user12: so excited

landonorris: can`t wait for the world to cry their eyes out just like i did when i heard them :( (it still hurt and I cry before falling asleep)

↳ nikolabff: bro same 😭😭😭

↳ maxverstappen: babygirl

↳ landonorris: get outta here 😡

georgerussel: I know who will cry listening to this

↳ danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri

↳ landonorris: @/oscarpiastri

↳ sonnybff: guys knock it the fuck off

hattiepiastri: so prod of you girl! Can’t wait to listen to it!

↳ user67: NOT HIS SISTER OMG

↳ user08: I don’t wanna be delusional but girl you

don’t help

↳ user134: they NEED to get back together I don’t

wanna suffer anymore I know Hattie

wants it too 😭

user1: I’m not alright knowing these are for oscar tbh IM DEAD and I haven’t even listened to them yet

taylorswift: and artist of the year goes to…

olivirodrigo: my day to day inspiration

user975: I love girls supporting girls

user56: @/f1gossipofficial is there something about this you’d like to share????

「 ✦ The aftermath - february 14 ✦ 」

Oscar was back to the UK training for the beginning of the new season. It was the coldest winter he experienced. He got back home from mclaren hq. He took a hot shower to warm himself. His apartment was silent. It felt empty for the first time. Like something was missing. He went straight into bed. He wasn't that hungry anyway, but he was tired indeed. 

“Hey, listen to it. I think you need to” 

He saw his sister Hattie's notification pop up on his screen confusing him abit. He went into the messages app and opened his sister’s. When he did he understood what she was talking about. A knot on this throat formed. It was y/n ep. Guess he now understood taylor swift’s exes. It’s hard to date a musician ust because of the aftermath of the relationship. 

“Just do it. You will understand why once you did” 

Another message popped up on this screen and sighed heavily. Probably his sister was right but at the same time he was scaredas fuck. He opened it on spotify, she looked as pretty as ever on the cover of it. ‘Almost said I miss you’ - that was the title and only had 3 songs. By the names of them he suspected it was about him but he tried to believe they weren't even though his sister already told him that they were. He decided to listen to it in order.

He took his headphones from his nightstand so he could hear your voice clearly. All over his head. Cutting deep into his fiber. 

The first piano tiles started playing and his heart was already sinking. Hearing her voice so raw and close and clear sent shivers down his spine. He heard every single word you said. It described perfectly that horrible and forgettable night you broke up. Hearing your voice crack broke his heart into a million pieces. It wasn't even half of the song when he started crying. He knew what he said under his breath that sent you both straight into hell. He felt so guilty about everything. He really just wished to talk to you. 

When he started to hear the second song he knew it was about that race you went. He hoped to see you in the next one, and the next one. But you didn't go again. The lyrics were so real his skin felt every word. 

When he heard you saying that you felt sorry his tears streamed down his face more violently. He didn't recognize this person. But you always had this effect on him. With you he was a feeler, one that felt way too deeply. Unlike the person he shows to people. You always knew the real him. He couldn't lie to you. Even though you thought he would cheat on  you. He would never. Hearing you wanting to hold him broke his heart. Why did you both have to do this the hard way? Why didn't you just be happy with each other? He really missed you. He missed everything about you. Your presence around him. He was his best version with you. Now he feels like a ghost of who he used to be. 

The last song just ended him. 

‘Do you remember being happy together? I do, don't you? Then all of the sudden, you’re sick to your stomach. Is that still true?’ he whipped his tears the best he could. 

You never called her or told her you missed her. But he guessed you would have liked it like that. 

‘everything i know brings me back to us. Everywhere I go leads me back to you’ he felt the same. 

He didn't know what to do. He had a battle inside him. He promised himself he would stay away from you so you could be happy just like you deserved. But at the same time he wanted to be happy and he knew you made him happy. He was happy with you. 

“So? Call her please oscar. You both deserve to be happy and figure things out along the way, together”

Hattie read his mind. Her text just in time when he is back into the silent apartment. The empty and cold apartment that once was full of laughter and music because you were with him. He missed you so much. He missed hearing you play guitar rumbling words then writing them down. You hugged when he was back home, you cuddled in bed when he was sad, your perspective on things. He missed every detail about you.

But was he ready to come back to you?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

author's note: SO I DELETED IT BY MISTAKE AND I HAD TO REDO IT :(((((((( i've never been this sad but I hope you like it anyway. (This like a 2.0 version) it's the longest fic i've ever written and i love it sm :,) oscar piastri i deeply love you.

idk if I should do a part 2, should I?

also shout to to my international friends nikola and sonny, you girls at the best mwak mwak 💌

don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hi, can I have a request? 😇

I just loved your Steven x virgin reader fic, but what if they are both virgins and Marc talks through Steven where to kiss and how to touch 😏

HI! :D

Of course you can, feel free😊

Oooh, sounds like a beautiful idea😏

The guiding voice

Virgin!Steven Grant x virgin!fem!reader

I'm sorry in advance if there are some butchered words, mistakes or other spelling errors, English isn't my native language.

Warnings/Triggers: Loss of virginity, mention of blood, p in v, fingering, Marc being Marc.

Summary: Marc guides Steven through the process of his and your first time.

"Steven, all you have to do is to listen to me."

Steven looked up, seeing Marc's reflection in the mirror. Steven was nervous the whole time and Marc tried to calm him down. When Steven told you he was still a virgin, he got red like a Tomato, too embarrassed for his own good. But when he heard you were one too and saw you getting flashy red he cooled down.

"But I'm afraid I'll hurt her..." Steven chewed on the inside of his lip.

"You're not going to hurt her. Trust me buddy." Marc shot Steven a charming smile "Oh and I mean, you've jerked off before, you know how that feels, but with a woman it feels better, everything's better."

Steven raised his eyebrows at Marc "Lucky you, it must be easy for you sayin' all that, innit."

"Want me to do it?" Marc's words came out dry but he couldn't hide the sound of his amusement.

Steven looked back up at Marc, "What the actual f- you can't be for real now, mate..."

Marc just shrugged like he said the most harmless thing in the world, "Uhh, just saying. Worst case..."

Steven stepped back, checking himself out in the mirror before glancing back at the clock. Steven and you had been dating for quite a while now, he hasn't told you about his mental condition with Marc living rent free in his head, thinking it might scare you off, he planned to tell you about it when you two got something serious though. Steven expected you to knock at his door any minute, you two agreed to take it a step further tonight.

Steven didn't notice Marc admiring him in the reflection, too anxious about the time.

Marc whistled seductively at Steven, "Ouuh, look at that fine Brit. Mr. Grant about to get into business with a girl. Go get her buddy."

Just after Marc said that, there was a knock on the door. Steven turned back to him, "Bloody American." who in return leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and just grinned cheekily at Steven as he went to the door. He opened the door, seeing indeed you standing there with a smile.

"Hi Steven."

Steven beamed, his heart racing wildly in his chest "Wow, you look amazing!" he greeted you excitedly seeing how you blushed instantly.

"Look at this fine gentleman infront of me." You grinned as Steven stepped back to invite you in.

-

Later that night, you and Steven went into bed together for the next step. Steven was above you, gently kissing you until he heard Marc's voice again

"Quite the catch you got there. Can you feel yourself getting hard? I know I would."

If there was one thing Steven hated about the whole head sharing thing, it was the fact that he couldn't talk back mentally to tell Marc he isn't that inexperienced.

"First, you need to get her all needy. Kiss her neck and work yourself up to kiss the spot behind her ear. Gets the girls purring like a cat."

Steven almost cracked up into a smile at the last part, but he trusted Marc, moving to kiss your neck softly and working his mouth upwards to press a kiss on the sensitive spot behind your ear, which draw a soft moan out of you. Steven smiled internally, pleased with himself knowing he did something good.

"Just like that, and now move one hand slowly down between her legs, start teasing her."

Steven complied, his hand skimmed softly over your skin while wandering down until it was just above the waistline of your panties. Steven continued to kiss you, he loved hearing your noises escape your lips. You don't know how happy it makes him. He dipped the tip of his fingers under the waistband, inching closer to your warm core.

"That's right buddy, keep going, you're doing good." Steven could hear how pleased Marc is with him.

His hand now dipped into your panties, reaching your clit and started to rub it in slow circular motion. You let out a needy moan, getting wetter with every circle he drew and arched into him.

"Oho, you're more experienced?" You asked suddenly, giggling.

Steven pulled back just enough to look at you "Maybe it's natural?" He teased you, feeling more bold now deciding to do the kiss behind your ear again which surprised you, given how good he already makes you feel at rubbing your clit.

"Steven..." You began moaning softly.

Steven rubbed your clit a tad bit faster, he felt the wetness of your juices starting to get on his fingers, which is a very good sign for him.

"Ask her if she's feeling comfy enough to take one of your fingers. One, not all of them." came Marc's voice again.

In response, Steven guided his fingers closer to your wet hole "Are you alright to take one finger?" Steven asked gently with a tiny note of concern for your well being in his voice.

Once you nodded, Steven's index finger pressed gently on your entrance before entering softly.

As you felt his finger stretching you, you let out a short gasp at the intrusion, but it was easier to handle thanks to the fact your entrance was wet, thus making it less uncomfortable.

"You alright love?" Steven asked concerned.

"Yes." You nodded reassuringly.

Steven pumped his finger slowly, making sure it gets coated in your juices.

"Alright buddy, and now add a second finger but do it slow, make sure she's wet enough, rub her clit again if you have to." Was Marc's advice.

"May I add another finger? To get you more prepared, y'know." Steven looked down at you with a soft gaze.

Once you nodded, he moved his thumb to rub your clit again to get the wetness pooling before he prepped his middle finger at your entrance, coating the tip with your juices and slowly joined his index finger, stretching your hole. Given the thickness of two of his fingers stretching you, you felt a slight uncomfortable sting but it got better when Steven started moving his fingers slowly inside of you. When Steven felt you getting more comfortable he slightly sped up his fingers and kissed you again to make it easier for you to forget the stretch.

"Grind yourself against her, use your thigh between her legs to move against her if you have to in order to get more possible friction to make her feel good while making her feel how hard your cock is against her leg." Marc's voice was focused, he genuinely wanted to make it as easy as it gets for you.

"Does it hurt love?" Steven asked, grinding himself against you like Marc said, making sure to brush his one thigh against you as much as possible.

"No, it's bearable." You replied, letting out soft moans as the wetness made you feel get a good feeling from Steven's fingers and his rubbing on your clit. At the feeling of Steven's hard erection rubbing on you, you felt yourself getting more wet if it was even possible and lifted your knee up, getting a heavier pressure on Steven's erection which made him moan at the surprise.

"Gettin' a bit eager are we, love." Steven teased, leaning in to kiss your neck again and biting down gently, causing you to tighten around his fingers. Steven felt it, and when you got comfortable again he felt how you've got used to something bigger inserted into you.

"You think she's ready for you, bud?" Steven heard Marc's voice again.

"Love, you think you're ready for me?" Steven asked you, slowing down his fingers.

"Yes, I think I am." You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him to get better access as Steven slowly pulled his fingers out of you, making sure to not hurt you.

Before Steven could get his aching cock out, he heard Marc chime in again "You okay with blood, right?"

Steven paused, looking back to his little bathroom mirror to look at Marc, giving him a curt nod.

He saw Marc nodding in response before turning his attention back to you and pulling his cock out. Obviously his dick is bigger than his fingers, so when he caught you looking, he gently reassured you "Don't worry love, I'll be slow for you, gonna be as patient as you need me too."

"Thanks, Steven." You smiled softly, knowing you're in good hands.

"She likes what she sees, otherwise she didn't stare at it like that." Marc was teasing, he could hear the literal grin in his voice and Steven knew he couldn't just talk back at him in order to not scare you.

Steven slowly pulled off your panties and positioned himself between your legs but before he could get any further he heard Marc again

"Please do me a favor and don't miss it, just point it at the wet leaking hole."

Steven wished he could whack Marc mentally sometimes. He continued moving his cock to your entrance and gently nudged it with the tip.

"Alright buddy, now enter her slowly, if she makes an uncomfortable noise stop for a second, maybe ask if she's alright and then continue."

Steven obeyed, he pushed inside slowly, inch by inch. He couldn't help but moan at the tightness of you around him, loving how it felt.

"At one point she will hiss or something and you'll feel and see blood, 'cause congratulations you broke her Hymen. It'll bleed for a while before it stops, so don't panic."

Steven's girth stretched you, more than his fingers and you felt a stingy stretch slowly creeping up, making you tense a bit and gasp.

"Get her more wet. Rub her clit again, it will make it easier." Marc chimed in again.

"It's okay love, it's okay, 'm here." Steven cooed softly, proceeding to rub your clit again.

His cock stretched you further the more he pushed in, the sting was more prominent now but it was bearable with the wetness from Steven rubbing your clit.

When Steven pushed further and more of his thickness inside you felt a sharp sting, feeling like something has ripped inside you, and a second liquidy feeling getting mixed in, feeling thicker and warmer, it caused you to tense and let out a soft yelp, your eyes were watering up a bit at the pain.

Steven immediately stopped his movements, looking down to see some blood coating his cock, "It's okay love, you know what this means, right? It can't get any worse now." He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you and wiping away some tears that had escaped your eyes "I'm proud of you, you were so brave."

He saw you smiling back at him, then asked "Want me to wash the blood off, love?"

"No, the blood is alright, we will clean up later anyways." You smiled.

Steven nodded, starting to move again. The stingy feeling was still there, but your wetness soothed it, allowing you to relax.

"There you go buddy, you popped her cherry. Made her a real woman now." It was Marc again. Oh how badly Steven wished he could talk back to him, sometimes Marc acted like an asshole, and when he did, the little American inside his head really started to get going at it.

Soon, as Steven continued to move you felt the sting getting replaced by a more pleasurable feeling, one that made your brain go numb.

"Steven..." You moaned, arching your hips up at him.

"Starting to feel good, yeah?" Steven teased, increasing his speed "God, you feel incredible love. So good."

-

You could feel something inside building up, the faster Steven moved, the faster it approached you, "Steven, I-I think I'm close." You moaned, breathing heavily at your impending release.

"Gettin' close too, love." Steven grunted, his pace increasing even more as he was now pounding into you, loving the tight sensation of your hole around his cock.

Before you knew it, the sensation became too much and you felt yourself tightening around Steven, gushing all over his cock while your eyes rolled back into your skull. Steven lost it the moment he felt you squeezing his cock, his orgasm was inevitable and he allowed himself to shoot his sticky load into you. He held himself inside you for a couple seconds before he pulled out, letting the fluid mess between your legs drop onto the towel under you.

"That was so intense." Your chest was heaving.

Steven rolled off onto the side, facing you "It was unbelievable. You did so perfect, love." He leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Both of you laid there, calming down from the lovemaking before you broke the silence "Shouldn't we clean ourselves up?" You giggled.

Steven snapped back to reality, his mind was still clouded with the experience they shared "Yeah, right." He chuckled, standing up and extending his hand for you to pull you up before grabbing the towel, and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

-

After the cleanup, you changed into your sleeping clothes, heading straight for the bed and occupying it before wrapping yourself up in the soft covers. When Steven returned he saw you already sleeping with a soft smile on your face. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head, looking back at the mirror to confront Marc, who gave him a dirty smile in return.

"I'm already scared on what you're about to say, Marc. Judging from your smile." Steven said.

"Did it feel good?" Marc couldn't resist but ask.

"Bloody hell..." Steven sighed, it sounded like the sigh someone would make as if they'd question their own existence "You're a freakin' pig, mate."

"I am just curious." Marc defended himself "Will you introduce me to her?"

Steven cracked into a smile "Of course. I'll introduce the little American man living rent free in my head."

Marc beamed, happy with the answer "Thanks!" He replied, visible excited.

Steven looked back at your sleeping from, walking around the bed to the other side to lay down beside you. "She took all the covers."

"Happy wife, happy life. Don't you dare wake her up." Came Marc's response.

Steven almost choked, "Hap- what?!"

"It's as simple as that, buddy." Marc just grinned at Steven.

-

[bunni-v1]

hi! congratulations on 500 followers! could you make the full nsfw alphabet list with Idia please? (sorry for the bad English)

🍓I POSTED!!! I've had this sitting in the drafts for a week and I finally decided to post it (YAY!!!). I've also got Jade's qued up for later today, and I'll be working on Azul and Floyds in my free time (when I get free time that is). Sorry I took so long to post, life has been tough on me and I just didn't have the tools to deal with it. I'll be back and posting irregularly until December when I can actually take time and write again.

Idia NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare: Idia Shroud is the WORST at aftercare, and I say this with so much love and kindness to the walking punching bag that calls himself a man. Genuinely though, sex overstimulates him so badly, so he cannot handle anything after the fact. He’s the kind to roll over off you (more like slide you off him) and fall asleep immediately. Of course, he mumbles out something about it feeling good and all that stuff, but 9 times out of 10 he’s out like a light.

B = Body part: He is a thigh man. He doesn’t care if it's thick and meaty, he just wants to rest his head on it. Maybe give it a nibble, if you’d let him of course (consent is key, even for a dirty Otaku like him). For him… he doesn’t like most things about himself, but if you seem to like something about him a lot, he grows to like it too. So if you like his hair, it’s probably his hair, if you like his lips or teeth it’s them. (What can I say, he’s weak for you).

C = Cum: SALTYYYYY! He doesn’t take care of himself what did you expect. It’s unpleasant to taste, and there’s A LOT of it to taste. It’s a pretty thick consistency and really sticky, fun to play with and watch dribble down your stomach and face. 

D = Dirty secret: He wants you to peg him. I wouldn’t say that’s much of a secret, but he thinks it is. 

E = Experience: NONE. Zip, zero, zilch. I make fun of Malleus for being a Virgin, but IDIA IS A VIRGIN. He’ll blush to hold your hand, it’s that bad. However, he does watch a LOT of Porn (Hentai specifically), so he has… an idea of what to do. He’s really nervous first time around, but once he gets comfortable with you he’s pretty good, just a little unrealistic in his expectations sometimes.

F = Favorite position: Doggy! Especially if you’re wearing cute little puppy or kitty ears! He likes watching the way your back arches, and he’s a big fan of pulling your hair or squeezing your hips. Other than that, he loves face-sitting. Surrounded by your thighs, oh that’s a good death for Idia Shroud.

G = Goofy: Initially, he is entirely on accident. He wants to be serious and cool about it, but he’s like a blushing schoolgirl and making a million mistakes. His line delivery is so… cringe and embarrassing you can’t help but laugh. It humiliates him, but eventually, he learns to just embrace it, and he becomes pretty goofy. He loves cracking jokes just to see you smile, cause the one thing he loves more than your thighs has to be your pretty little smile.

H = Hair: I know it’s blue flames too, I just know it. That shit is not tamed either. Like he trims, but honestly it’s hard to control something that's constantly shifting and changing. And, before you ask, yes it does flare up with his emotions like his hair does too. 

I = Intimacy: Depends… Idia isn’t someone I would ever describe as romantic, but he is a sweetie. He likes it hard and rough so it’s hard to say it’s very romantic, but he does like you close and he loves looking at you. You catch him smiling down at you like you’re some kind of goddess sometimes. You won’t catch him saying cheesy lines like how much he loves you or how pretty you are (cause it will actually kill him if he does).

J = Jack off: Mastrubating champ of NRC. He’s alone in his room 90% of the time with unlimited access to the internet and is also an Otaku. Sorry if you disagree, but you’re wrong. I know he gets off at least once a day, more if he has the time. 

K = Kink: Another biter, he just loves marking you up and sending you off with a pretty bruise for everyone to see. He’s a sadomasochist too, depending on whose topping. He wants you to push him around and hit him, make him feel helpless, it’s his favorite thing. Also into pet play, cosplay, roleplaying, and… any kind of play honestly. The weirder the better for him.

L = Location: His room and his room alone. Maybe yours, but he does not trust anyone in your dorm to respect your privacy. Besides, if he’s in his room he knows where everything is, and he can ensure no one will be getting in and seeing you that way.

M = Motivation: Most things, honestly. Be nice to him? He’s hard. Be mean to him? He’s hard. Beat him in his favorite game and act all smug (he let you win)? He’s hard. Lose and pout about it? He’s hard. He’s a sensitive guy, okay, and he thinks everything you do is super hot. Not his fault.

N = No: Share or let someone watch. Absolute nos from him. The idea of sharing you with someone and you like them more? Hah, he’d kill himself. He’s also not a fan of anyone seeing either of you in such a compromising position. He’s too nervous and possessive to let that out of the privacy of his room. Also, this might be controversial, but I can’t see him being into any kind of sibling shit. Too weird for him, he’d never want to think of his precious little brother like that, so why would he want to think of you like that?

O = Oral: He prefers receiving because watching the way you tease him with your sultry gaze as he sinks impossibly further down your throat is… heavenly. Though he isn’t bad at giving either. His tongue is long and boy can that thing move, it can reach places you didn’t even know were possible. Plus his teeth nipping at your most sensitive areas? Praise the seven, that’s good shit.

P = Pace: Fast and rough. He likes to just go at it, and he doesn’t like to stop for anything. Prepare to be pounded into next week with no stops!

Q = Quickie: He likes them, and they’re pretty common, but they’re not his favorite. When he has sex, he likes going for more than one round, and the whole point of quickies is that they’re quick so he doesn’t prefer them.

R = Risk: Yeah, he’s game to try some more risky things, but he’ll back out so fast if he’s uncomfortable for even a second. There are some things he wouldn’t consider, like bringing it out of his room. He’s a big fan of risky texts though. Like, a video of you fucking yourself in the bathroom while he’s in a meeting with the other housewardens? No one’s gonna know if he takes care of himself quickly. 

S = Stamina: He goes for multiple fast and quick rounds. He can usually do about four of them before he’s done for the night, but he’s willing to keep going if he doesn’t satisfy your needs along with his (sometimes).

T = Toys: He has a collection, actually, of really wild shit. Tentacles, ‘alien’ dicks, and even the infamous horse cock. He likes to put a bullet in you and control it from his room, watching you struggle to talk to your friends on the cameras he’s definitely allowed to have access to. 

U = Unfair: He likes to tease, but he forgets to sometimes lol. He gets so caught up in his own pleasure that, occasionally, he’ll just forget he wanted to tease you and make you all sensitive and whiny. He also likes to be teased, so please feel free to torture him when you’re topping <3

V = Volume: He tries very hard to be quiet, but bless his soul he is not. He’s so whiny and whimpery and pathetic, it’s very cute. He wants you to make as much noise as possible so that he can hide his shame, but he’ll still cry into your ear since he can’t contain himself.

W = Wild card: He sometimes prints out the pictures you send to him (with permission) and keeps them in his desk. There’s no real reason why, because he has all of them digitally, but something about having physical pictures is more thrilling to him.

X = X-ray: Hehehe, oh Idia. It is long and it is thick, bless his dad’s genetics. I’m talking like almost seven inches big, like… he’s big. It’s veiny, with one really prominent one on the top that runs from the base to just below his tip. Which, by the way, is blue like his lips. 

Y = Yearning: High, if that wasn’t made obvious before. He craves sex a lot, and it only seems to get worse after he gets with you. You’re just so pretty and perfect he can’t help it <3Z = Zzz: I said it at the start, but it’s near immediate. He gets tired easily after all that physical exertion, he just wants to nap and cuddle, you can clean up in the morning. Let him hold you :(

[chiasaaa]

— truly, madly, deeply…

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: everyone has a moment of weaknesses. you happen to have that after being overworked to your limit and sometimes, all you need is one person to feel better.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— dating a football superstar like itoshi sae has its pros and cons. for someone as busy and goal-driven as you, the pros have always contributed the heavier weight on the scale. dating sae couldn’t be more perfect with the how you easily align in terms of career plans. he had always been destined to become one of the greatest football players in the world, and you have glued your eyes on your fashion empire from the very start.

even so, sae always made sure to have time for you the same way you did to him. while you bend heaven and hell just to watch his matches, he always whips through sand and snow to celebrate every milestone and every occasion with you.

truly, you couldn’t ask for more from the loyal guy.

or so you thought.

recently, with the amount of work you’ve been drowning in, you couldn’t help but wish he was by your side to hold you through a breakdown. you never allow yourself to be vulnerable, especially when you’re alone. you need sae to be with you for you to actually let out a tiny bit of your feelings.

quite ironic, if you think about it.

the only person you can be vulnerable to is the one person in the world who seems to be rid of emotions. contrary to popular belief, sae is just the perfect person to confide to at one’s worst—well, maybe only yours.

you: i miss you

it was an attempt to start a small conversation tonight as you’re drinking your frustrations away with a glass of wine kept in your shared home. though, it feels more like it’s a single-person house with how much he’s spent time overseas.

the scent of his cologne no longer lingers in your cozy home. the scented candles that he gifted you so you won’t feel alone had run dry. even the love note he left on the fridge before he left fell down just this morning.

it isn’t like you to be dwelling too much on the little things, and you simply brush them off when it does come to mind in passing. whether it’s the alcohol entering your system or the fact that you’re reading the tabloids as to how so many of your loyal customers are expectant of your valentine’s product line, you simply knew that your emotions are running your mind.

not an ounce of logic is with you right now. quite the rare sight, would be sae’s opinion if he were there.

four hours turned to five and sae’s yet to respond to your desperate text. by now, you’ve downed at least half of the newly opened bottle and finally allowed a few beads of tears slip down. not enough to bawl your heart out, but to allow your vision to clear up a bit as it already pooled to the limit.

itoshi sae had no idea you’re going through such a rough patch in the three weeks he’s gone. supposedly, it was only for three days to settle his passport back in japan, but the blue lock project certainly caught his attention and had him cancelling his flight. he informed you of the changes and the reason to do so, and you were completely fine with it.

if anything, you hoped it would help your boyfriend somehow mend his messy relationship with his brother, and you were fully supportive of the notion. no one could have expected this, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault at all.

three weeks passed by so fast that the tear-stained baby that was you didn’t even notice that tonight was his flight back home. you heard keys faintly jiggling from the other side of the wooden door, sniffing as you figured it’s just another neighbor mistaking your home for theirs.

“ya llegué,” i’m home.

sae didn’t know what to feel the moment he sees your disheartened figure sitting on a stool by the bar counter, but the moment he hears your sobs, he dropped his bags down the floor and hurriedly walked to your side.

“what’s wrong, mi vida?” he asks gently, taking you in his arms upon instinct. the stool complied as it twists you around to face him, allowing you to finally go full-on sobbing on his chest. the sound of your wails brought a crack to his heart with every cry, and sae could only wish he’d endure the pain in your stead.

in the three years you’ve been together, sae had only seen you break down twice. the first wasn’t even meant to be a breakdown if it weren’t for him encouraging you to be more honest with him. the second was a little more intentional, surrendering to the fact that you’re in need of comfort amidst a lonely year.

this time, however, he doesn’t know what plagues your mind enough to start talking. instead, he placed a hand at the back of your head to soothe your scalp while the other ran itself up and down your back. he silently stood there and let you release all of your pent-up frustrations until you’re capable of speaking again.

“w-why are you here so soon?” you snap back to reality after a few minutes, lunging back straight to wipe the remaining tears in your bloodshot eyes. “don’t you have that match against blue lock? it isn’t til the 25th, right?”

“it’s already the 26th, cariño.” sae cups your cheek with one hand, wiping away a stray tear with his gentle thumb. he hates seeing you like this. one moment you’re completely out of your wits, then the next is your body returning to its natural programming like you didn’t just feel human enough to express emotions. sometimes, he wonders if you look at him the same. with how he’s cut off from his feelings most of the time and how he’s yet to actually go through a breakdown within your presence, maybe it’s a little hypocritical of him to wonder.

“the 26th? oh, god! i need to email the suppliers for next week’s shipment!” you were about to hop off the stool when sae stopped you and kept you planted down. “sae, mi amor, i’m glad you’re home. i just—“

“this isn’t just about me stepping foot in this house five minutes ago, mi vida.” he takes your chin between his fingers, fixating your gaze at his teal-hued eyes. “you’re overworking, and i’m yet to understand why you’re crying.”

“but—“

“please, take a small break.” he leans his forehead down to yours, hoping for you to receive his sincerity. “stay in the living room for me, mi vida. i’ll make us some tea to relax.”

you took a glance at the clock, realizing it’s already past midnight. sae must be tired from his trip, and yet he carried you down the sofa so effortlessly before heading back to the kitchen to make tea. you turned to watch him from the living room, noticing how he glared at the half-empty wine bottle and the wine glass you were about to finish. he swiftly drank the rest of it in one go, muttering how it does taste good and he now understands why you kept drinking it.

he brewed, he cleaned, and he sat down with you like how a therapist would approach their patient. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol kicking in again, but you can feel tears brimming your eyes as you realized just how much he cares for you.

“god, i’m so stupid.” you mutter, hiding your face in your palms.

“what did we talk about?” sae sighed, pulling you against his chest once again.

you flinched. “don’t berate ourselves…”

he nods, then takes your hand in his. with a swift motion, he intertwined your fingers and planted a kiss at the back of your palm.

“what’s going on, mi vida?”

and so, you talked about the entire process that led to your ugly breakdown. how you hate the silence that comes after a long day and the realization that sae’s someplace else. how it hits you like a ton of bricks when you read the tabloids that a lot of people are expectant of your creations. how both worlds somehow collided when you read the morning newspaper with yet another scoop on how sae may be dating behind your back, and how sae was conquering the world out there and you’re stuck in spain to chase after your own golden egg.

“i’m sorry. i was just feeling a little sensitive, so the sadness grabbed the chance to use it against me.” you joked, chuckling awkwardly as you now played with his fingers out of anxiousness. “i’m not usually like this. please don’t take this seriously. you don’t need to worry about me whenever you leave—“

sae must have been annoyed by how you’re suddenly patching up your scarlet wounds with useless bandaids because he shut you up right away with a slow and passionate kiss. he was never good with words, and his progress is quite slow, but he knows that the best way for him to communicate with you is through his actions.

the kiss was no mere act of affection that night. it was an assurance, a promise telling her that he will take care of her no matter how messy she can get. that he will be more attentive to her feelings, especially when he’s away.

“you act too tough sometimes,” he whispered against your lips, “you don’t have to be like that with me. i’m here now, mi vida.”

that was all you needed to hear to finally get a proper rest. sae didn’t stop you from dozing off after you both finished your tea, carrying you back in your shared room after a long day. as he laid beside you, he watched in earnest how your nose would scrunch in your sleep. how you resemble a baby and how he wishes for your future children to look more like you one day.

“te amo, mi vida.” i love you, my life.

[retrocesosdestacion]

ALCOHOLIC LIES. | keira walsh

keira walsh x williamson!reader

genre: minor funny fluff, surprised love.

warnings: leah being made a fool, reader leah's younger sister, without many touches, not a romance-focused fic, drunk r.

notes: finally started writing again, i really wanted to write keira and r totally in love but i didn't have a better idea, soo i just made leah and r fight + defending her girlfriend. request

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: It's okay to date your sister's friend, right? Just keep it a secret... If you can.

“Every day I fall in love with you more and more. Except yesterday, yesterday you were pretty annoying.”

Earl E. Bird

❝ Hey, enough of that now, [reader]. ❞ Keira said as she removed the glass of alcohol from your fingers.

Reddened cheeks, sore expressive marks from the smile printed for so long and of course, the smell of the classic beer between the lips.

❝ Just one more round, please. ❞ The sly tone came out deliberately from your mouth, while you firmly grabbed one of the english's arms.

❝ Leave the child. It's been a while since she touched a bottle of alcohol. ❞ Stanway said between chuckles, also drinking.

❝ No?! Leah will kill me if she sees that I let her drink so much. ❞ It was very clear how desperate she was. ❝ And well… You know. ❞

❝ About the fact that she's going to go crazy not just because of this? ❞ The other english asked.

❝ Exactly. ❞

❝ I already said that Leah doesn't have to interfere in my life. ❞ You grumbled at your girlfriend’s negligence.

❝ Don't say it like that... ❞ Walsh was practically defending the english defender's side.

In fact, you were a little to blame for this whole situation and Keira was right. You should have told your sister from the first day you started dating.

And that's been five months.

It could even be a record, you could never keep a secret for that long. One day or another, Leah will find out.

❝ What the fuck are you whispering my name now? ❞ A mature and feminine voice rose from the beginning of the division between the living room and the kitchen.

❝ Nothing of your interest. ❞ You shout louder than usual.

Georgia and Keira burst into giggles at your sudden cheer.

The four of you were in Stanway's apartment, which was one of the main meeting points for drinks almost every weekend.

Leah and you were the famous dynamic duo of sisters, while the blonde english has a very strong personality, you are the complete opposite.

Seriously, it was actually a shock to Stanway when you took on Keira; You had gotten a girlfriend even before your older sister.

You two were also mostly known for fighting a lot; not just on the pitch. The defender is a completely protective woman when it comes to you.

Maybe because of her protective parental instinct; the fear of being hurt or even for reasons that Leah never told you.

And currently, Leah knowing about you and Keira would probably be the worst thing in the world. First, you lied to her and second, you're dating one of her friends.

❝ Gossiping about others is bad, you know? ❞ The older english made fun of your whispering to the girls, while bringing another bowl of snacks and placing it on top of the central table.

❝ I thought you said you didn’t care about other people’s opinions? ❞ You replied back.

❝ Shut up. ❞ Despite everything, Leah sometimes had a typical stupid attitude. ❝ Didn't you say you had already stopped drinking for today? ❞

Leah looked at Keira across the table, indirectly expecting some answer. After all, she was the one in charge of taking care of you.

❝ I tried. ❞ Walsh defended herself.

❝ Can you stop being like this? ❞ Your lips gestured in a sullen tone.

❝ There are two people older than you here and neither can take a drink from you. ❞ Leah was at least right.

❝ She's not seventeen anymore, Leah. ❞ Stanway opined. ❝ And theoretically it is you who should do this. ❞

Keira turned her eyes to you, eyes that conveyed the only understandable message: begging to stop drinking in Leah's company.

Pout with the lower lips, gradually turning into a short smile. Walsh's concern and advocacy was incredibly adorable.

It's a shame you can't give her a kiss in return.

❝ Okay, do whatever you want, then. ❞ The older blonde clearly didn't want to stress about the whole situation. The responsibility is yours from now on.

❝ Sheesh, you are worse than mom. ❞ You bantered.

❝ Fuck you? ❞ Leah grumbled, snacking on a snack from the bowl.

❝ You go. ❞ You countered.

It slowly turned into an exchange of insults, Walsh and Stanway just watched.

❝ You get ridiculously boring when you drink. ❞

❝ And you don't even have to touch alcohol to know that about you. ❞ That clearly must have hurt Leah inside. Mainly because of her open-mouthed expression.

Georgia tried to put an end to this. ❝ Can you two stop— ❞

❝ Get someone to be your personal babysitter before you say anything. ❞ The English defender spoke louder.

❝ I already have it. ❞ You said without thinking twice.

A regretful silence fell in the living room. And within seconds, you realized the shit you had said; your eyes almost explained.

It was very clear the reductive fear and surprise that hit Keira, especially because her face slowly turned towards you, in disbelief at what you said.

Everything went down the drain.

Stanway was different, she giggled. Because she knew exactly what was coming. ❝ Oh, shit. ❞ She murmured between giggles.

❝ Huh? ❞ It was a pretty loud noise, to be realistic. Eyebrows raised, lips half-open, Leah gradually seemed to squint, trying to understand. ❝ How is that? ❞

It took you exactly seven seconds to formulate some justification. ❝ I meant… ❞

❝ …You. ❞ You cleared your throat before saying that.

And Leah clearly didn't buy it.

❝ Shut up, liar. ❞ Williamson slowly came back to reality. ❝ Who? ❞

❝ Who what? ❞ Don't look to Keira, don't look to Keira, don't look to Keira. Play dumb.

❝ Don't act stupid. ❞ Leah replied.

Walsh kept contact with the glass on the table, touching her index finger to the rim of the glass as she begged you not to say anything. The last thing Keira would want was to die in Stanway's messy apartment.

Leah looked at Georgia. What no one told you is that Stanway can't keep secrets in front of Williamson. ❝ Did you know that? ❞

❝ Yes…? ❞ She replied.

And the defender looked at you again. Now worse, you told everyone in your social circle except Leah.

❝ You too? ❞ Referencing Walsh.

Anyone could confirm that she was very nervous. She avoided contact at first instance, and as Keira was at your side; her free fingers played with yours, anxiously under the table.

She just nodded in agreement.

❝ Why didn't you fucking tell me? ❞ Leah grumbled in her own way.

❝ Because you would be harassing me my whole life. ❞ You answered for Keira. In the first few weeks from now on, Williamson will make fun of you a lot. ❝ And you are very threatening. ❞

❝ No, I'm not. ❞ She defends herself. You were turning Leah into a children's story villain.

You looked back at Keira. The alcohol was like a river in your body, alcohol was so effective that it made you the most shameless person in the world. And you must do this.

❝ It's Keira. ❞ You gestured your lips without any fear.

Eyes wide, eyebrows raised and so scared that she seemed to have heard the worst thing in the world; what it actually had been. ❝ What?! ❞

It had been so sudden that Walsh didn't believe it the first time. You crossed your arm around her neck, bringing her closer to you.

If Leah had the onset of a heart attack, you can be sure she would have had an attack right then and there. It wasn't like she didn't like you dating, in fact, Williamson was just afraid of the consequences.

But the fact that Walsh's name was mentioned instead of someone stupid or unknown relieved Leah.

The english defender knew her, which meant she also had knowledge of her previous relationships. And to be honest, Keira Walsh was the best person to date.

However, at the moment, this information was not very useful. Especially when your field of vision only had Leah in shock.

❝ Are you fucking my sister? ❞ Williamson desperately released the words from his lips.

❝ Fucking is a very bad word. ❞ Keira murmured back.

Again, silence remained in the middle of the table. Stanway just blatantly watched the three of you argue, you hugged Walsh with one arm and Leah seemed to think about her words.

❝ Fine. ❞ Leah said with an understandable intonation.

❝ Fine? ❞ You questioned back, after all, such an attitude from your sister was the least expected.

❝ It could be worse, for example, if it were Geo. ❞ This caused Stanway to choke on her own drink, forcing the glass onto the table.

❝ Hey! ❞

Leah stretched her arms and laid her back completely on the floor, grunting, probably tired from all this.

You looked first at Stanway, who still seemed affected by the blonde's comment, wiping her mouth; your eyes moved to Keira's face, giving her a victorious smile.

Your arm used to pull your girlfriend away, slowly moving towards Walsh's long fingers and intertwining them. ❝ You was the only one who didn't know, but now everything is great. ❞ You reported it.

❝ What? Was I the last to know? Why always me?! ❞ Leah stood up so quickly that her knees hit the bottom of the table.

❝ To be honest, I was going to tell you once, but you never have patience. ❞ Keira replied. ❝ And you would probably hit me with a chair for dating [reader]. ❞ The english bantered, but there was a little truth in her speech.

❝ No, never! I just think it's funny that you started dating before me. ❞ Leah said pointing at you. ❝ Anyway, I hope you don't do anything bad. ❞ Williamson spoke in a not-so-enthusiastic tone indirectly to you know who.

Walsh was finally able to rest her face on the side of your neck, crossing one of her arms over yours for support. ❝ You've known me for years! It feels bad to say something like that to me. ❞ She murmured.

The three of them laughed, it was the typical humor of long-time friendships that you weren't used to yet.

Leah coming to terms with your relationship was a huge relief. You placed a peck on the top of Keira's head before hugging her. ❝ We should celebrate Leah not killing us… You know. ❞ You sounded like a drunk.

❝ This is just an excuse to drink more, right? ❞ Yes, exactly. Stanway was right.

Williamson rolled her eyes before pushing the last bottle of beer onto the table. ❝ Ask your babysitter for permission. ❞

❝ Leah! ❞

❝ What? ❞ The defender said between laughs.

❝She's not my babysitter. ❞

Of course, Keira Walsh no longer needed to hide behind the playful nicknames that Leah always gives. After all, she was now your girlfriend; no more secrets.

[mnnuni]

Always, more than enough

Evan Buckley x Female reader

summary: Reader is going through somenthing at uni, but Buck's the perfect boyfriend words: 1484 warnings: smut Author's note: this is the first of my work that i ever publish, so please try and be kind. Also, english's not my first language so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes and stuff

(Y/N) had just finished her last lesson of the day;she didn't imagine the second year could be even worse than the first, not that she didn't like her major or studying for it ... It was the ambience that she started to despise. Even if she found a solid group of friends, there was this bunch of girls that she really really couldn't stand. And it was so frustrating that at least one of them was in every lesson of her everyday schedule.

It wasn't like she argued with them or somethingbut the fact that they always had to say something about her and her life

The worst was when they spoke about Evan.He literally was the perfect boyfriend and (Y/N) couldn't tolerate their comment about their relationship.

"You sure he doesn't need a nurse? I could be his" said Sarah one time, and for this (Y/N) could blame her jealousy for her reaction because she knew Evan was an extremely attractive guy. But when Jennifer said "I really don't know why he's with you..." and then Carmen "yeah I'm sure he would want more than someone like you".

(Y/N) was sure of her relationship and in fact never really answered that type of comment...But there was that part of her she didn't have the strength to blame for being hurt about them.

How can a girl say that to another girl?

She couldn't answer that either.

(Y/N) was currently walking through theuniversity's courtyard to go to the bus station, all while recording an audio to her boyfriend about her day after he send her some texts when he woke up later in the evening after his shift.

"God I'm so fucking tired Buck, Mr Brown really has to learn how to not shout bec-" she suddenly stopped at the sign after her "no fucking way".

Her phone registered that too and when she arrived inches from Evan his phone rang for her notification.

"what the hell are you doing here?"

he was smiling.

God.

"surprise?" and then he smirked. (Y/N) nearly jumped to hug him and wrap her arms around his neck, but when they were about to kiss she reminded him "not here" and glanced around.

Evan knew she wasn't a fan of PDA and so when she would rather kiss him in private he didn't ask her too much about it. But now it was starting to feel strange she got so nervous near him at college...

"come on, you're at mine's tonight".

(Y/N) only smiled brighter and followed him to his car while she told him all about her day; and Evan listened to everything she said, every topic she defined interesting so he could bring it up later, every stop at the coffee shop she did so he would regulate her caffeine for the night and let her sleep, every essay she said she would forget so he could remind her eventually. He loved to listen to her. He loved when she rambled like that because she actually stopped his overthinking of everything when she did.

"shit! I was supposed to grab dinner at myparents's tonight" she suddenly said when they entered the car.

"already did that." He answered. She didn't know whether to be confused or impressed.

"I called your mum and told her my plan. Because I know how you hate Wednesdays and your mum cooks for you on them. After work I stopped at your parents'house and grabbed dinner -which by the way smelled delicious- and then came grab you"

Yeah... She was definitely impressed

She bent over Buck's car console and kissed him. (Y/N) was beyond grateful to have him in her life.

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

The first thing (Y/N) did after she took off her shoes the moment Evan closed his house door was to grab his face and pull him in a desperate kiss. He was kind of shocked at the sudden urgency of her hands on him but he couldn't really complain, it was so long since they could kiss like this because of their packed schedules.

Bucks groans in (Y/N)'s mouth and starts to fidget with her jeans untill she stepped away to get off her shirt first. Buck was so distracted from kissing her breasts that he didn't realise she stripped down her pants too. (Y/N) took his face again and licked his lips, smiling, "now strip".

She was so demanding, Evan's cock twitched just for her tone. He quickly took off his shirt while (Y/N) turned around to go in the bedroom. It was then that he smirked, finally realising how tiny her panties were.

"look at that, my super smart slut" he said smacking her ass. She let out a yelp but she was smirking too while she led him to his room. Evan just followed like a lost puppy trying to get out of his jeans on the way.

The moment he saw (Y/N) finally, completely naked he pinned her to the wall and got on his knees

"can I?"

It was such a turn on that even after years of being together and the fact that (Y/N) was ready naked and all for him, Evan still asked for her permission.

She answered putting her hand through his hair and putting his head close to her.

He was so good at licking her.

It didn't last long because Evan was entering her pussy with his tongue and then he started sucking on her clit and -

"Evan" she breathed out.

The first time she did it, Buck was shocked at how he was affected by the sound of his name from her lips. But now he got addicted to it.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess and Buck started to alternate a lick and a bite to her lips, "Baby I-I really love this but-" , another moan at the sign of Buck stopping immediatly and looking at her from his lashes.

He was so hot.

"I need you".

That was enough for Buck to grab her by the thights and put her on the bed; he crawled over her and smiled but that didn't last long because (Y/N) started to stroke his cock and he fucking whimpered.

"Sweatheart" he started moving his hips in her hand, "yes baby?", she smirked at his flushed state "ple-se". (Y/N) put his cock near her entrance and when he felt her wetness Buck completly lost it and pushed into her. They both moaned at the new contact.

Evan gave her few moments to get adjusted before he started thrust so hard she scratched his back with her nails.

"Yes! Keep going Evan"

He kissed her neck and never once thought to change the pace because he could feel (Y/N) clench around him signaling him she was close. It was only when Buck started to moan more loudly that she allowed herself to really be in the moment and come on his dick. He followed shortly after her.

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

They stayed on the bed readjusting their breathing and cuddling for another half an hour before Buck got up and microwed them some food to eat in bed. (Y/N) couldn't even think to get up, Evan only worsened her tiredness.

The atmosphere was so confortable while they eat half covered with Evan's sheet, (Y/N) covered in one of his shirt, that she thought it was the right moment to answer the dubts that was forming in her boyfriend's mind since some weeks;

"I'm sorry", he looked up at her confused but she wasn't looking at him so he knew she needed time to actually talk.

"Do you think I'm enough for you?" at this Evan put his napkin away and got closer to her "what are you talking about baby? You're everything for me"; (Y/N) left a breth escape her lips and a light smile starts to form on them, but she got Buck worry now.

"What happened (Y/N)?" he put his hand on her thigh and followed her eyes in order to got her to look at him. She breathed in again. "Some girls at school... let's just say they think you could do better than me". Evan immediatly wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh love, you know they only say this 'cause they're jelous of you", she chuckled "yeah i know, it's stupid and I'm sorry I got you upset by avoiding you around campus but i really hate when they comment about us and it's even more stupid because I never cared for others opinion but when it comes to you I-"

Evan stopped her by kissing her.

"Thank you for finally telling what you were stressing about" another kiss "don't ever think you have to apologize, to me of all people, for your feelings" another kiss "and don't you ever, ever think you're not enough"

(Y/N) smiled at him.

"I love you". It was her that kissed him now.

"I love you too".

[familyabolisher]

hi if u don’t mind me asking, could u please elaborate on your thoughts on the critique of contemporary anti-intellectualism (specifically on social media)? i’m legitimately curious and enjoy a lot of ur analysis and commentary i mean this in good faith :)

Broadly speaking, the philosophical concept of anti-intellectualism tends to critically describe the ideological + rhetorical relegation of intellectual production to an elitist practice fundamentally at odds with the interests of the layman; and, crucially, the treatment of these categories as fixities. I disagree with the propositions of that philosophical discourse as well, but that’s not always the form that the discourse takes on this website. On here, ‘anti-intellectualism’ is more of a vague catch-all used to describe anything from people who express frustration with the literary canon & mainstream schooling in ways that don’t coddle the sensibilities of people with literature degrees to people who come out with outright fascistic views on provocative art; it attempts to corral what are in fact very disparate positions and perspectives under the umbrella of insufficient ‘intellect,’ often shorthanded to ‘reading comprehension’ or ‘media literacy’ (or ‘[in]curiosity,’ a new favourite) without any materialist investigation into what we mean when we talk about intellect and literacy and a lack thereof or whether this is a politically expedient description of the dynamic[s] in question.

When I say materialism, I mean it in the Marxist sense, ie. as a counter to idealism—because what’s being described here is a fundamentally idealist (and therefore useless) position. The discourse of anti-intellectualism as it exists on this website relies on idealist propositions—people lack curiosity, they lack interest, they are ‘lazy,’ they are ‘illiterate’ where ‘illiterate’ is not a value-neutral statement about one’s relationship to a socially constituted ‘literacy’ but communicating a moral indictment, at its worst they are ‘stupid,’ ‘idiots’—these descriptors rely on an assumption of immutable internal properties rather than providing a materialist description for why things are the way that they are. These aren’t actionable descriptors; at best they’re evasive because they circumvent serious interrogation of the conditions they’re describing, at worst they’re harbingers of an inclination towards eugenicist rhetoric. The discourse casts those who are ‘illiterate’—which in this capacity means those who fail to perform conventional literacy, who lack a traditional education, who don’t demonstrate sufficient interest in classic literature—or the more unkind ‘stupid’ (which, frankly, is what people want to say when they say ‘illiterate’ or ‘incurious’ anyway, lmao) as socially disposable and places the onus of changing one’s behaviour (so as to not be cast as illiterate/incurious/stupid) on them rather than asking what conditions have produced XYZ discourse of social disposability and responding with compassion and ethical diligence; I hope I don’t have to explain why this is eugenicist.

The discourse also lacks an ability to coherently describe what is meant by the ‘intellectualism’ in question—after all, merely appealing to ‘intellectualism’ is a similarly idealist rhetorical move if you don’t have the material grounding to back it up—and indeed tends to dismiss legitimate critiques of intellectual + cultural production as ‘anti-intellectual.’ People love to talk about ‘literacy,’ but don’t like expounding on what they’re actually describing when they do so—the selection of traits and actions that come together to constitute a correct demonstration of ‘literacy’ are built on the bedrock of eg. an ability to thrive within the school system (a mechanism of social control and stratification), fluently speak the dominant language by which this ‘literacy’ is being assessed (in online spaces like Tumblr this is usually English), and engage with the ‘right’ texts in the ‘right’ ways where ‘right’ means ‘invested with legitimacy and authority by the governing body of the academy.’ Literacy is used as a metric of assimilation into hegemonic society by which immigrant and working-class children are made rhetorically disposable unless they demonstrate their ability to integrate into the hegemonic culture (linked post talks about immigrant families being rendered ‘illiterate’ as a tactic of racism in France, but the same applies to the US, UK, etc); similarly, disabled people who for whatever reason will never achieve the level of ‘literacy’ required to not have Tumblr users doing vagueposts about how you deserve a eugenicist death for watching a kids’ show are by this discourse rendered socially disposable, affirming the paradigms which already make up their experience under a social system which reifies ableism in order to sustain itself. (This includes, by the way, the genre of posts making fun of the idea that someone with ADHD could ever struggle with reading theory.) ‘Literacy’ as the ability to understand and respond to a text is difficult and dispersed according to disparate levels of social access, and a lack of what we call literacy is incredibly shameful; any movement towards liberation (and specifically liberatory pedagogy) worth its salt needs to challenge the stigma against illiteracy, but this website’s iteration of ‘anti-intellectualism’ discourse seems to only want to reaffirm it.

Similarly, the discourse dismisses out of hand efforts to give a materialist critique of the academy and the body of texts that make up the ‘canon’—I’m thinking of a post I saw literally this morning positing a hypothetical individual’s disinterest in reading canonical (“classic”) literature as an “anti-intellectual” practice which marked them as an “idiot.” (Obviously, cf. above comments re. ‘stupidity,’ ‘idiocy’ as eugenicist constructions.) People who will outright call themselves Marxists seem to get incredibly uncomfortable at the suggestion that there are individuals for whom the literary canon is not even slightly interesting and who will never in their lives engage with it or desire to engage with it, and this fact does not delegitimise their place in revolutionary thinking and organising (frankly, in many areas, it strengthens it); they seem determined to continue to defer to the canon as a signifier of authority and therefore value, rather than acknowledging its role as a marker of class and classed affects and a rubric by which civility (cf. linked post above) could be enforced. (I believe the introduction to Chris Baldick’s The Social Mission of English Criticism touches on this dimension of literary studies as a civilising mission of sorts, as well as expounding on the ways in which ‘literary studies’ as we presently understand it is a nineteenth-century phenomenon responding to the predictable nineteenth-century crises and contradictions.) People will defer to, for example, Dumas, Baldwin, Morrison, to contravene the idea that the literary canon is made up of ‘straight white men,’ without appreciating that this is a hugely condescending way to talk about their work, that this collapses three very different writers into the singular category of ‘Black canonical writer’ and thus stymies engagement with their work at any level other than that of 'Black canonical literature' (why else put Dumas and Morrison in the same sentence, unless as a cheap rhetorical ‘gotcha’? I like both but they’re completely different writers lmfao), and that this excises from the sphere of legitimacy those Black writers who don’t make it into the authorising space of the canon; and, of course, reaffirms the canon’s authenticity and dismisses out of hand the critique of loyalty to hegemony that the ‘straight white men’ aphorism rightly imposes.

The discourse operates on a unilateral scale by which the more ‘literacy’ (ie. ability to speak the language of the literati) one has, the greater their moral worth, and a lack of said ‘literacy’ indicates the inverse. This overlooks the ways in which the practice of literary criticism wholly in line with what these people would call ‘intellectualism’ has historically been wielded as a tactic of reactionary conservatism; one only has to look at the academic output of Harold Bloom for examples of this. People will often pay lipservice to the hegemony of the academy and the practices by which only certain individuals are allowed access to intellectual production (stratified along classed + racialised lines, of course), but fail to really internalise this idea in understanding that the critical practices they afford a significant degree of legitimacy are inextricable from the academy from which they emerged, and that we can and should be imagining alternative forms of pedagogy and criticism taking place away from sites which restrict access based on allegiance to capital. Part of my communism means believing in the abolition of the university; this is not an ‘anti-intellectual’ position but a straightforwardly materialist one.

A final core problem with the 'anti-intellectualism' discourse is that it's obscurantist. As I explained above, it posits the problem with eg. poor engagement with theoretical concepts, challenging art, etc., to be one of 'intellect' and 'curiosity,' idealist rather than materialist states. In practice, the reasons behind what gets cast as 'anti-intellectualism' are very disparate. Sometimes, we're talking about a situation wherein (as I explained above) someone lacks 'literacy'; sometimes we're talking about the reason for someone's refusal to engage with and interpret art with care and deference being one of bigotry (eg. racist dismissals of non-white artists' work, misogynistic devaluing of women's work, etc.); sometimes we're talking about a reactive discomfort with marginalised people communicating difficult concepts online as a 'know-your-place' response (eg. backlash against 'jargon' on here is almost always attacking posts from/about marginalised people talking about their oppression, with the attacks coming from people who have failed to properly understand that oppression; I've been called a jargonistic elitist for talking about antisemitism, I've seen similar things happen to mutuals who talk about racism and transmisogyny). All of these are incredibly different situations that require incredibly different responses; the person who doesn't care to engage with a text in a way that an English undergrad might because doing so doesn't interest them or they lack the requisite skill level is not comparable to the person who doesn't care to engage with a text because they don't respect the work of a person of colour enough to do so. Collapsing these things under the aegis of 'anti-intellectualism' lacks explanatory power and fails to provide a sufficient actionable response.

Ultimately, the discourse is made up of a lot of people who are very high on their own capabilities when it comes to literary analysis (which, as others have pointed out, seems to be the only arena where all this ever takes place, despite the conventional understanding of ‘media literacy’ referring as much to a discerning eye for propaganda and misinformation as an ability to churn out a cute little essay on Don Quixote) and have managed to find an acceptable outlet for their dislike of anyone who lacks the same, and have provided retroactive justification in the form of the claim that not only is [a specific form of] literary analysis [legible through deference to the authority of the literary canon & the scholarship of the nineteenth century and onward surrounding it] possible for everyone, it is in fact necessary in order to access the full breadth of one’s humanity such that an absence thereof reveals an individual as subhuman and thus socially disposable. A failure to be sufficiently literate is only ever a choice and a personal failing, which is how this discourse escapes accountability for the obviously bigoted presumptions upon which it rests. In this, all materialism is done away with; compassion is done away with, as it becomes possible to describe the multiplicity of reasons why someone cannot or does not demonstrate ‘literacy’ in X, Y or Z ways in the sum total of a couple of adjectives; nothing productive comes of this discourse but a reassertion of the conditions of hegemony in intellectual practice and the bolstering of the smugness of a few people at the expense of alienating everyone else.

As I’ve said countless times before, the way to counteract what we might perceive as ‘incuriosity’ or disinterest in challenging texts is to talk about these challenging texts and our approaches to them as often as we can, to make the pedagogical practices that are usually kept behind the walls of the academy as widely accessible as possible (and to adjust our pedagogy beyond the confines of ideological hegemony that the academy imposes), and to encourage a culture by which people feel empowered to share their thoughts, discuss, ask questions, and explore without being made to feel ashamed for not understanding something. The people who cry ‘anti-intellectualism’ because they saw someone on Tiktok express a disinterest in reading Jane Eyre are accomplishing none of this.

[lovely-p-issues]

I have this fanfiction idea for times when my English will become acceptable: (it was in my drafts for months and tbh if I didn't post it today like this, with mistakes and stupid parts, I wouldn't have posted it at all, so, sorry ig)

Book 1: The war

How it all started

Let's make Azulon not madly-evil, but just regular-size-evil: he didn't plan to kill Zuko, because it's a stupid idea to get rid of your possible heir, he just wanted to take a son from Ozai - so he decided to make Zuko Iroh's heir, de facto making him Iroh's son (let's not focus on formality, just assume that you can switch your fathers if you are highborn enough)

(Zuko's life isn't in danger, so Ursa doesn't kill Azulon and he'll be ruling at least to the end of that book)

It may seem a great idea (especially in comparison with killing Zuko) but we can't forget that Iroh just lost a son and is still in grief, absolutely not ready to take care of another kid. He still needs to learn how to find a new path and calm his spirit and now he needs to do it with Zuko around him.

Iroh decides to take Zuko with him for his journey - Azulon approves this, seeing his son (and heir) needs to learn how to live after losing Lu Ten and thinking that Iroh may finally teach Zuko some actual fire bending

"I do not want to want to leave, Azula. I'm sorry, little sister."

"Whatever, Zuzu. At least you won't be distracting me from my lessons. Finally, something good comes from this whole fuss around you."

(In fact, she's not happy. Not at all)

______

At this point, Iroh is not yet the nice old man you know from ATLA. He's a broken man, trying to find a purpose in his life, triggered by Zuko's alikeness to Lu Ten and tired of being imposed on things like taking care of a teenager.

He's not Ozai, he's not cruel or even just bad, he just can't force himself to care.

They don't really talk, only sometimes to establish a plan for their further journey. The worst moments are when Iroh calls Zuko Lu Ten's name and then suddenly stops, looking at him in shock. After that kind of incidents, they stay silent for days.

Zuko starts to blame himself for being, well, alive, when his much better cousin is dead. He convinces himself it would be better if he died and Lu Ten lived.

Zuko spends most of his time alone. He hates making Iroh sad and upset so he chooses to stay away. He doesn't know what this all thing with White Lotus, he just likes the idea of his uncle/formal-dad having friends.

Yet, they travel all around the world and for the first time in his life Zuko sees what sharing progress and civilization by Fire Nation looks like. And he doesn't like that.

He's still loyal to his family, so he doesn't believe that his grandfather knows what is happening.

He decides that he needs to make a proper report (soul of writer, ya know).

He makes notes and talks with people, even if he hates how awkward it is. He believes that it's necessary to help them.

I think it's a wonderful idea to see Zuko interviewing - I mean, investigating-

Zuko's raport list - random traders complaining about the difficulty of staying afloat, - migrants who are fleeing war or have lost their homes to fighting, prisoners of war (this doesn't go down too well, thank goodness Zuko is still a kid and his passion seems adorable so no one kills him), - strange ladies in nice outfits who are paid by horrible men for no one knows what, - malnourished scarred soldiers of the Fire Nation, - children of the Earth Kingdom who teach him their stupid game (once he understood the rules, it wasn't THAT stupid, but still), - crazy old ladies, who won't stop pinching his cheeks, - a young girl with a scar on her face who didn't want to tell him much, but Zuko knew what accidental burns looked like and this wasn't one of them, - a group of artists whose theatre burned down after they refused to perform plays approved by the Fire Nation authorities, - a mother who asks him if he knows what happened to her son who was an earth bender and one day. .. just didn't come home

But we all know that Zuko always prefered to act than think. Pretty often Sometimes he disappears for a night. With him disappears an old, theatre mask.

Son came home and left with his mom. Someone left some gold for the soldiers to buy food. Someone bought the most useless things from traders. Someone left burn ointment made by someone who must have grown up surrounded by fire, on the doorstep of the poor girl. And many other, strange things happened.

Of course no one suspects anything or anyone. Trust me. Not a single soul.

______

Zuko is still training but can't even be angry enough to make a big fire. He's just frustrated and that makes him choke with smoke more than anything.

But with every other day, he feels worse. He gets letters from Azula who started to receive more attention from their mother since Zuko was away. When Ozai's influence is limited, she becomes a little more normal. She's still sharp as a knife and dangerous, but feeling loved by both her parents (even if Oazi is more focused on trying to control her and transform her into a weapon) decreases her psychopathic behaviour.

"Mom asked me to take care of your stupid turtle ducks, dum dum"

She thinks he will be happy hearing that she spends time with their mom, and Zuko, honestly, is happy. It's just-

"Am I even still her son since I'm Uncle Iroh's heir?"

-where is his place now?

For the first time in days, he feels an actual rage. And just like this, his fire bending becomes hundreds of times better, even unhinged and dangerous.

Iroh sees this while coming back from meditation (or whatever) and in a second feels that something is wrong.

He reaches out to Zuko, offering him some advice and lessons, but Zuko, a 13-year-old, harmfully lonely and practically neglected at this point prince, can't hold back anymore:

"YOU WANT TO TEACH ME AFTER MONTHS OF IGNORING ME? YOU'RE JUST LIKE FATHER, HE LOOKS AT US ONLY WHEN WE ARE ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE! WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME WHEN I COULD NOT HOLD A LITTLE FLAME IN MY HANDS? I DON'T NEED YOUR STUPID ADVICE NOW! YOU WEREN'T THAT WISE WHEN YOU LOST BA SING SE AND GOT LU TEN KILLED"

Iroh sters at him calmly for a few seconds.

"You are right. I wasn't. I'm trying to do better. If you change your mind about training, you know where to find me."

Zuko comes to his Uncle by night.

They don't really train. They drink tea instead.

And it becomes a habit.

After a few days, they start to actually train.

They need to breathe a lot. It's too much for Zuko, but Iroh is rather stubborn about this one.

After a few weeks, for the first time in his life, Zuko feels that fire bending is soothing and just pleasant. It feels like home.

It can't last forever. Of course.

______

They stayed for a long time in the Earth Kingdom. One day Zuko sees Ba Sing Se and vast fields of previous battles, trampled, dry land and piles of burnt bodies.

It's not the work of some mad general or bunch of scared soldiers fighting for their lives. It's his chubby nice tea-loving uncle's work. This is not an accident, an accidental casualty of war. They are the pride of the Fire Nation. This is their honour. This is their civilisation and progress.

That's what his family is doing to the world. Purposely.

Something is breaking inside him. Thoughts of mourning for Lu Ten. No one has ever mentioned all those bodies, the people who died here too. His uncle, his good uncle, his father, the pride of his Nation, only cried over his son. He never even hesitated to burn to a crisp anyone who defended his home. Against them.

Zuko isn't very smart, as we know. He screams a lot at Iroh. And then he leaves.

He thinks to himself, that Lu Ten, who actually fought in those battles would understand that it was wrong. But Lu Ten would also know what to do about it.

He wanders for days, trying to avoid people, untill

He crushes into something.

"Why are you running, flame-boy? Your pants are on fire?" *wild laugh*

And this is how Prince Zuko met Lady Toph Beifong.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

thinking about Emma Frost again. let's imagine for a second X-Men matters and my opinion must be shared.

When I was a kid I really respected and liked Professor X. I thought his stances on issues were calm and reasonable and I thought his efforts were, while ultimately fruitless, the best ones in the fictional conversation about inclusivity and race and all that. this is a subtle reference to the fact I only watched the cartoon and the movies as a kid.

When I grew older and learned English I started engaging with the comics and realized that oh, turns out the adaptations are superficial at best and fladerizing at worst, and there's a lot more to Charles than Being Correct. He's actually in fact a scathing critique of control and flawed leaders of good faith ideals, and how you're supposed to grow over those who created the words you use to free yourself from tyranny. Professor X is a jerk, Magneto was right, all that.

But over time I realized how much that erases Emma Frost, villain turned voice of reason extraordinaire.

Emma starts her tenure in X-Men as Claremont's personification of everything that is bad with high society, accosted by Sebastian Shaw, which is that but male. Emma is genuinely awful when Claremont writes her; a GOOD awful, on purpose, but she's not supposed to be relatable. She has her own mutant school, her own team of mutants, her own answer to Cerebro. She's the most genuine Evil Xavier we get for a full two decades. and she's great at it! Even if the hellfire club almost always truces with the X-Men for the sake of fighting a more important battle, there's no question that you're not supposed to root for Emma.

And then in the 90s something changes, Claremont goes away for a second, other people approach the character, and the question becomes, why are we treating her like evil Xavier? She's building community. She's giving a voice to the disenfranchised. She's training them and she's caring for them and at no point is she asking of them things they actively disagree with, which can't be said of Charles. And so starts the process most every X-Men villain goes through: humanization, complexity, redemption. And fuck does Emma redeem herself.

Ten years into not being a caricature of high class, Emma has accrued a tragic backstory, several positive projects in canon, renown as a genius, positive relationships to several characters, and a main team spot in a highly acclaimed, influential run as of New X-Men. A whole new generation of readers introduced to Emma, new powers, new MO, new everything. Other characters are changing drastically, usually backwards, to accompany the movie's success -- Magneto is evil again, Jean goes back to being the Phoenix, Charles is a lot more like Captain Picard. But Emma? Emma gets to keep going. She changes things wherever she goes.

She hooks up with Cyclops, her daughters become their new Cerebro, she becomes the new heavy-hitter, the Hellfire Club becomes more Shaw and Shinobi's deal than hers... obviously, this isn't consistent. She's got low points and moments that don't agree to her new character. But this woman, who started as commentary on how the rich will destroy you for fun, is now a key positive portion of the world because at some point in time, she had a point -- Charles *isn't* the end-all-be-all of the matter of teaching young mutants, Erik *isn't* the best way forward as far as mutant armadas go, there *is* nuance to their dualistic conversation, the dichotomy is only enforced because they're loud, but she can be louder, she can be louder than any of them--

And then Krakoa hits. Yes, there's a full ten years of bad X-Men stories, many of them including Emma, at least one of them including Emma genociding a few Inhumans. But then Krakoa hits, and every character gets a new project.

Cyclops? Seeing the world move on in ways he might not approve of. Wolverine? Being happy, and realizing he means to fight to keep it going. Erik? Charles? Apocalypse?? Seeing how strong their "dreams" are when they compromise, and realizing oh, I am willing to do *anything* to keep this going, quite literally anything, there is no crime predicted by man or god that would be beyond my reach if it meant paradise would not be lost.

Emma? Emma keeps doing what she's been doing from the word go. Keep it fabulous. Keep the children safe. Don't fall for the lies. At some point someone will invade your privacy and try to take everything away from you. Your job is not to simply destroy them. Your job is to showcase to them how this too was accounted for.

Emma, alongside her planning, her alliances, her leading of the resistance, her unfathomable internal strength and her willingness to see the world for what it is, won the war for Krakoa. Charles wanted things to stay the way they were, Erik wanted things to be the way he dreamed they could be, Apocalypse wanted things to impress him.

Emma wanted them to be safe and sound. Emma wanted the children to be safe. And when Krakoa rose and left, now fully developed and having outgrown her as well, she picked herself back up and went to train a new generation.

There's always children to keep safe. There's always a new generation. The work is never finished.

Yes, the O5 have their own version of Xavier's dream fulfilled, but Emma is the only one who managed to keep herself genuine while evolving. In a room with religious zealots, war criminals, villains and ancients evils, Emma could always look at Kitty Pryde and think to herself, look at what we're doing, my friend. Look at what we have to work with. We're not saving them from themselves, we're saving everyone they're willing to sacrifice.

I wish those adaptations would make Emma Frost sound like she does to me. She's not just a third option to the Professor X-Magneto dichotomy. She's a person asking why is this a dichotomy in the first place. She's too busy actually caring about people to bother with the bickering.

For the children, they said when they wanted her to join their little utopia. For the children, she sighed back, realizing that if she didn't say it, quite literally no one else would.