#anyway filler tag time I don’t

[russilton]

Bonking them together like barbies once again

[orchidyoonkook]

Personal

Hi.

How did you get over your quarter life crisis?

Because I’m trying not to fall into the vast unyielding void. And I’m failing hilariously.

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

[wcters]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗚 𝟮𝟬

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: you turn 20 and your friends post for your birthday

warnings/notes: established relationship, this is more of a filler/something to read while i work on the podcast imagine. i’ve just been super busy. there might be a couple more posts before the podcast one 🤍

matthew.sturniolo

liked by yourusername, christophersturniolo, and 494,937 others

matthew.sturniolo my baby’s not a baby anymore! love you so much 🤍 can’t wait to put up with more of your antics

tagged @yourusername

view 3,083 comments

yourusername i love you sm 🤍🤍

user they’re too cute i can’t

↳ user i know right?

christophersturniolo happy birthday! cheers to 20 🥂

user i’m not a matt girl, i’m a y/n girl

nicolassturniolo soo cutee

↳ user 🥺🥺

user he loves her so much, you can just tell

↳ user i wish someone loved me like they love each other ‼️

nathandoe8 happy birthday! come visit boston again soon

user cutest caption ever

user crying rn 😭😭

user sobbing. laughing. on the floor.

↳ user me too

nicolassturniolo

liked by yourusername, matthew.sturniolo, and 236,072 others

nicolassturniolo it’s my best friends birthdayyy! forever thanking the world for making you move to la so we could meet. thank you for introducing me to tim hortons (the smile cookie is my fav pic) can’t wait to spend so many more birthdays together

tagged @yourusername

view 2,937 comments

yourusername nick i love you 🤍 you really outed me on this one though

↳ nicolassturniolo it’s what best friends do 🤷

user i want nick to be my best friend

naileadevora happy birthday babe!

↳ yourusername i miss you sm!

user our canadian girlie

user you know she’s going to get so drunk the next time she vists canada 💀

matthew.sturniolo spongebob fit 🔛🔝

user first pic is eatinggg

ariana_greenblatt y/n is living the world slay

↳ user toooo true

user shes so prettyyyy

user minion face masks go hard ‼️‼️

user happy birthday

christophersturniolo

liked by yourusername, larray, and 376,982 others

christophersturniolo happy birthday y/n. praying that you get better sleep while you’re 20 so you don’t fall asleep everywhere like you do now 🙏🙏

tagged @yourusername

view 3,297 comments

yourusername this should be a crime. i don’t sleep everywhere

↳ nicolassturniolo you do though…

↳ matthew.sturniolo we have soooo many pictures

↳ yourusername jail.

larray sis really needs that sleep. anyway, happy birthday <3

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user she’s so real for that though

user chris really said “i got proof”

tarayummy miss you pretty girl 🤍 you can always nap here and we can celebrate

↳ yourusername omw

user 🙏🙏🙏

nathandoe8 she tired of dealing with you

↳ christophersturniolo 😀😀

↳ user were you silent? or silenced?

yourusername

liked by matthew.sturniolo, nicolassturniolo, and 129,244 others

yourusername the big 20 🥂

view 2,197 comments

matthew.sturniolo happy birthday baby 🤍

↳ yourusername thank you ☺️🤍

user her and matt are sooo cute

christophersturniolo 🐐🐐

user wish i went 😔😔

nathandoe8 party was awesomee 🔥🔥

nicolassturniolo cutest girl

madisonbeer happy birthday!

ariana_greenblatt birthday girllll 🤍

user ILY

user girl really living the y/n life

↳ yourusername literally 🤭🤫

tarayummy party was so good! loved celebrating such a big day with you

↳ yourusername marry me 💍

user they are eating those pictures upp

user i don’t know if i want to be y/n or matt

[jazzyjj]

I actually forgot about V’s addition in this episode, but I was pleasantly surprised when I remembered and thoroughly enjoyed the three together.

But after my daily cruising Tumblr tags and tiktok vids and comments of episode 3 it appears that people’s IQs have lowered to room temperature at an alarming rate.

To be blunt y’all are being dramatic.

Yes, is it nice to see a ship you like have a show dedicated to some time to themselves, however, that does NAWT mean we decide to attack the addition of another member when they join in. Y'all are not body language experts, and y’all do not know these men’s true moods and personalities especially not through a damn tv screen. So please do not come on here with your magnifying glasses and your theories abt how they secretly hate Tae’s addition. They are grown men. They don’t like something, I am sure they will speak up if their alone time is really that important to them especially when it's with someone as close to them as Tae.

Another thing for considering, they are literally never fully alone on this trip anyways, they’ve got 25 cameramen and drones, a hidden bodyguard or two probably-cause every ARMY will not be like that sweet girl in the store-and managers with them the whole time.

I’m trying to see some highlights and instead I gotta see goofy comments calling this a filler episode, calling Taehyung a third wheel, and that vminkook don’t have that good of chemistry together so it throws the episode off.

THE MAKNAE LINE?

CHEMISTRY?

DON’T HAVE?

The three individuals with multiple videos dedicated to said chemistry?

The three goobers whose last 2 braincells are so synced that the hyung line can’t keep up with their shenanigans and just watch from the sidelines?

Yeah, go ahead and log off for me.

You wanna talk abt jikook tags being dry? That’s cause y’all let it be dry. Yall decided to huff and puff in the corner and complain instead of doing any posting. That ain’t got shit to do with Tae. I still saw many cute moments of Jimin and JK.

You wanna be bitter and ignore all the fun moments the three had, how hilariously chaotic they are together, or how nice it was watching them decompress, be my guest. But all this whining? Baby keep that shit on your side of the laptop.

In summation, it is episode 3 of what number?

EIGHT

Which means if we pull out our fingies to count and you secure your thinking cap, that leaves 5 left to enjoy, he’s the only guest YOU WILL LIVE.

[paddockbunny]

One

Summary: Aria Armund is hired by Alpine as an "image guardian" for a reluctant Pierre Gasly - AKA she is hired to be his "babysitter". What happens as the season progresses and both of them have their buttons pressed by the other? And what happens when one of them suggests making a rather interesting bet? Rating: 18+. Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Aria Armund (OC) Word Count : 4,418 Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, misogynistic Pierre, language, mention of sex & blowjobs, descriptions of women's bodies etc. 💞Authors Note : This is going to be written from a first person narrative and will switch from Aria's POV and Pierre's POV. No idea how long this will be but I'm considering posting every race day (not sure yet due to work commitments, as usual). OH, and if you want to be added to a tag list then please comment on the newest chapter's before I make a dedicated page for it!!

Pierre

I let out a long, laboured sigh as I slide into the car. I really didn’t want to be doing this. I would much rather have been still in bed with Jessica - or was it Jenna or maybe Jennie, fuck maybe it was Julie? It began with a J in any case. And anyway, who fucking cares?! All that mattered was I had to peel myself away from her this morning to get to the factory on time for this dumb as fuck meeting. A groan escaped me as I suddenly remembered how fucking phenomenal Jessica (Jenna, Jennie or Julie) was at giving head and how I would much rather be getting sucked off right now rather than go to this boring meeting where some big wigs will talk AT me not TO me for a few hours and waste my day.

Ben opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in. He slides into the back next to me and I can’t help but glance over at him as as he checks his watch and tuts about the fact we’re going to be late. I let him stew instead of answering him. There’s no point. Last year I realised pretty quickly he was one of those types of guys. The ones that were so regimented and anal about doing things right and on time that even a minute behind schedule and he would be having an internal meltdown. I just let him do what he wants without input from me. So I pull my phone from my jeans pocket and smirk to myself when I see a DM from a Jocelyn Silva pop up - JOCELYN! Her name was Jocelyn! - so I click on it and it’s a photo. She’s lying in the bed I had just left her in throwing the camera some “come hither eyes” with a tiny little pout dancing across her full (filler injected) lips. But I only fleetingly glance at her face, it’s lower that I pay more attention too and the fact the bedsheet barely covered her exquisite boobs and the deep sun kissed glow from her tanned skin. I’m sure she said she was a model or trying to be a model and really, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine her in a bikini or lingerie in front of a camera. I swallow instinctively upon remembering what she tasted like last night before actually reading the text that went along with her provocative pic.

Jocelyn_S_Silva: 💋 last night was fun Papi, let’s do it again sometime?xxx

Was it too soon to ask if she would be down for tonight? That picture she sent was enough to give me blue balls for the rest of the day. I clear my throat so I don’t laugh aloud at how ridiculous I sounded. No pussy was that good to go chasing after so quickly. So I sent a stock response back;

PierreGasly: until we do…give me something to remember you by?🍑

And click off my phone to stare out of the window hoping I could stay in control of the blood rushing down toward my dick. It was raining (again) in England. The country looked so dull and grey in comparison to some of the other places we visited with the travelling circus that was F1 but they wanted me here, in Enstone for a meeting ahead of flying out for testing next week. Ben’s ear had already been significantly chewed off about that. I was supposed to be at the PSG match tonight, had a date lined up and everything - Aletta Dekker, sister of Lars Dekker the Dutch tennis player. We’d gone out a few times, fucked a lot, but I actually got on well with her. We could chat without feeling the need for it to go anywhere. It was just some fun with no strings attached. I didn’t have the balls to let her down over the phone so chickened out and text her saying I needed a rain check. The irony now as the rain hammered down on the car as we drove down a monotonous English motorway was not lost on me.

It took close to two hours to get to the factory. I never stayed near it simply because there was fucking nothing there so we’d come up from London to the factory and go back when the day was over. It wasn’t like all those years at AT where you could at least be in the beautiful Italian countryside and take in the stunning landscapes out the window, not fields and copious amounts of cows and sheep. When we finally pulled in front of the building where all the offices and important rooms with important people in them were, Ben finally asked if I knew what this was all about. Seriously, he didn’t even question this random meeting until the moment he stepped out of the car and I couldn’t help but shake my head at him. I liked Ben, he had become a good friend over the course of last year. It’s hard not to grow close to someone you see pretty much every day and does everything with you.

“No idea.” I told him as he rounded the back of the car as I shut the car door. “Hope I’m getting a raise for dealing with all that shit last year though.” Ben laughed at my words, which weren’t intended as a joke but must have sounded like one. As two of the guys from Alpine came out from the building to greet us, apologise for the bad weather and issue us inside my phone buzzed in my pocket and I wondered if that was the photo I had asked that Jocelyn girl for earlier. Took her time didn’t she? I made sure I didn’t scoff and tried to stay professional as we walked through the building while the guys I had met a million times before talked about the weather and asked me if it was better in Paris - clearly not clocking the tan I was sporting to realise I had certainly not spent my winter break in Paris.

“We’re just in here, Pierre.” The shorter, more rotund one of the two opened the door and held it open for me. I’d been in here before. It was where I had that big meeting with the big bosses after the incident in Singapore but the less said about that the better. I recognised everyone in the room. Otmar and the like were all sitting around the oval table and got up immediately to welcome me. But my eyes were firmly trained on the mass of long brown curls and feminine shoulders that were still sat at the table facing away from me. This was a new addition. There hadn’t usually been a woman at these meetings before. I glance around and confirmed no one had been fired and I hadn’t found out. So maybe she was just a new PR girl or one of the girls that worked in the offices at the factory. Otmar suggested I take a seat and so I did. The mystery girls head turned slightly, enough that I could make out some of her features. Cute straight nose, naturally full lips and high as hell cheekbones. She had to have only been around 23 or 24 perhaps? But maybe I was wrong and she only just looked younger - I wasn’t the best at women’s ages and my I knew better than to presume I knew anything about the feminine being anyway - anyway, as Otmar started speaking I would be sure to find out exactly who this new addition was.

“As you know, at the end of last season I told you I would be discussing things with some of our bosses and whatnots at the end of year review we have. The big debrief meeting where all the heads of department get together and talk about the good things and the not so good things that happened and how we could look to improve in the future. Y’know, like our race debriefs at the end of a race day….” Yeah Otmar, I know, I’m not fucking stupid get to to point. I pull my leg up and rest my ankle upon my opposite knee while I sit back in the chair and nod in the right places. “Well, one of the things that kept coming up was the tension between yourself and Esteban and the incidents that arose last year.” He means him running me off the track at two separate races, trying to break test me anytime I was behind him, me bashing him in front of the cameras any chance I got but it was probably, the public near fight caught by cameras in Singapore when I tried to get my own back by flirting with his girlfriend that was what he was really referring too.

“Pierre with your results last year there’s no doubt of your future within the team but the negative attention the pair of you have garnered has raised a lot of concern.” “Otmar I…” I was going to tell him it takes two to tango and if this conversation was happening with me it better be happening with Ocon too. He was as much to blame for last year as I was. But a hand made me pause while he continued. “However, after some deliberation on how to resolve the conflict and how we can possibly move in a more positive direction for all of us involved. We have decided to bring in an image guardian.” I look at him like he’s grown another head. What the fuck was an image guardian? And that was when I saw his hand flick over toward the girl that had momentarily occupied my mind before Otmar started talking.

This time, when I looked over at her, she was looking straight back at me with quite possibly a pair of the most striking blue eyes I had ever seen before. A soft, sincere smile spread across her lips as her hand rose from her lap in a “that’s me” gesture. Fuck, I couldn’t help but imaging those eyes staring up at me while she had her lips wrapped around my cock. Which involuntarily twitched in my jeans while I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t daydreaming. The words “image guardian” were still ringing in my ears so I most certainly in reality and not a twisted dreamland. “Sorry, what exactly is an image guardian?” I had truthfully never heard of the term and was one hundred percent certain they were making this up. “Well, we felt that the added pressure that the press and marketing teams had to face last year was rather, unfair to them. Their jobs turned into looking after or, perhaps that’s not the right words, making sure the both of you were looked after which meant some of those PR people weren’t as focused on their jobs as maybe they should have been.” I knew he was indirectly referring to Claudia without actually wanting to say her name but the less said about her the better. “So we created the role of an image guardian specifically to make sure your own PR game is onboard with ours. Someone who can liaise from your side with regards to meeting the needs of the team.”

Things took a minute to click in. He was bullshitting. This was a totally made up job so they could make someone my fucking nanny. “A babysitter?” I exclaimed loudly, my anger clearly evident in my voice and body language mimicking it. My foot fell back to the floor and I leaned in. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” I glance back over toward this girl whose name I didn’t even know (but who moments ago I had envisioned fucking) that was now labelled as my fucking au pair. “Pierre, it’s image guardian and we feel that you do.” Otmars voice changed tone. He was now not as breezy has he had been. He turned direct and much more commanding. “This is bullshit.” “Esteban has also been given an image guardian who will consult regularly with Miss Armund to ensure a more harmonious season this year. I can’t stress enough how this needs to work, Pierre. You know what can happen if it doesn’t.” I fucking knew. I had seen how people like Ricciardo and Mick Schumacher had been treated. Fuck! How I myself had been treated a few years ago at Red Bull. But a minder? Really? “And what is it she’ll do?” “I think Miss Armund is best to talk to you about that.”

“Hi…” She was nervous. She took a pause after simply saying hello. I was probably glaring at her like I wanted to set her on fire which might not have helped, but rage ran through my veins like boiling hot lava. “Firstly, I just want to introduce myself. I’m Aria Armund. I was born and raised in France till I was 10 and then moved here to England so if you want to talk to me in French you can, I’m bilingual.” There was a pause when she looked at me and I could tell she was waiting for me to say something polite (probably in French) but absolutely nothing came to mind that I wanted to say to her. She took a little breath in and it was usually while I was giving girls the come on when they got this nervous around me. I rolled my eyes and pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth as the pause seemed to get longer. I observed her straightening up and let out a quick exhale. She seemed to be gathering herself and I clocked her little touch of the bracelet on her wrist as if it was somehow giving her the strength to keep going.

“So basically, what I’m here to do is to look after you. You’re not particularly incorrect in thinking I’m a “babysitter” as you called it. My sole purpose is to keep you out of trouble. To minimise any issues you may have with your team mate and prevent them from leaking into the media. I’ll also help make sure your image doesn’t suffer from all of your liaisons with various….friends, and you don’t end up on the gossip pages as you have done in previous years. I’ll make sure your reputation and that of Alpine isn’t damaged in any way, shape or form.” Where did her sudden directness come from? Her nerves seemed to evaporate immediately. It was confusing it happened at such breakneck speed. But how she managed to take control of herself and take charge was nothing shorter than a major turn on. She could take control of me anytime she wanted. “Ok?” She smiled and it was now on me.

I had nothing to say or at least nothing came to mind as those swimming pool blue eyes stared into mines like they were trying to read my mind. As she turned her head away and Otmar went to speak suddenly a question did pop into my head. “Who does Ocon have?” I asked the question in the direction of her turned head. When she looked away some of her glossy curled locks fell across her shoulder and drew my attention directly to her ample chest. She was a woman - very much a woman - and I had a horrible feeling that Alpine might have been trying to set me up for failure. What with everything that happened with Claudia. “Excuse me?” Otmar seemed confused. “Who is looking after Ocon? You said he had a babysitter too.” In those minutes my question went unanswered, I hoped it would click on someone’s brain about why I was asking and I wouldn’t actually have to fucking say it. “Uh….” Otmar sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at me in a fashion that told me he twigged and he realised the intonation behind my questioning. He didn’t expect me to react like this, did he? During the increasingly awkward pause I fully believed that he was imposing this girl on me as a way to trip me up so he could get rid of me at the end of the year. If Esteban got a guy babbysitter then there was my answer. He would be getting off with his dickhead behaviour last year. “Mr Ocon’s guardian is Kyle Gilby.” Aria spoke up and I let out a quick exhale of air. Why the fuck did this not surprise me? I knew it. I could sense it from the way Otmar was staring at me. Ocon gets someone he can talk to, level with and I get stuck with her? Typical. “Is there a problem Mr Gasly?” Fuck her calling me Mr Gasly. Girls only usually called me that in the bedroom, not a boardroom.

I pretend there isn’t but there is. The whole thing is totally fucked but what can I do? I don’t want thrown out my seat so I have to play ball. And if that means I have to have a babysitter then fine, I’ll do it. This whole thing was feeling like a massive, risky, fucked up game of temptation? I made an audible scoff because I know where this is going and I know she won’t last long meaning they’ll probably get their way. I can’t help the fact I was born a flirt and women always fell for it. I’d give it two or three months before they’ll be having conduct meetings with me after she breaks her fraternisation contract clause after firing her for sleeping with the person she’s there to manage. It’s happened before and it will happen again. After all, it’s their own fault for hiring someone that would look more at home in Playboy or Sports Illustrated than working in an F1 team. They seriously couldn’t have hired someone less, tempting? They couldn’t have given her to Ocon and at least pretend they weren’t setting me up for failure?

Thankfully the meeting was over rather quickly. There were orders to go with her somewhere so she could do something or other and go over stuff but by that point I was zoned out. I cancelled my plans for this? They could have just told me over the phone. I didn’t need to be here in person when it would have been a quick email. I try not to sigh when I lean forward in my chair to get up but notice her move first. When she rises from her seat I can’t help but cast my eyes over her body. A perfect rack was hidden behind a satin-y type blouse and her smart, tight trousers did little to stem my attention away from her perky, peachy rear practically begging to be spanked. I was right. Playboy or Sports Illustrated. She would look so pretty on her knees. Give it a few weeks, I tell myself. By Miami she’ll be begging for me. I can tell.

Fifteen minutes later we were sat in a smaller, more bland impersonal office while she tried to convince me to hand over my social media passwords. “Mr Gasly, I assure you that your accounts and information will be safe with me. I simply need access in order to keep on top of any potential Alpine related business.” She was getting me riled up at this point. “Last year I believe there were, incidents, over social media with some questionable comments?” She was referring to the emoji’s wasn’t she? The PR girls laughed about them last year but she said it with a straight face. “I simply need to be able to delete anything that would be unsavoury toward your own reputation and the team.” “Telling people my favourite sex position through an emoji is not damaging to my reputation or the team.” I retort back with a smooth laugh. I thought it would throw her but the silence and stoney face I was met with made me push it even further. I smirked before adding; “it’s the dog by the way.” Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I couldn’t recall the last time I wasn’t able to flirt and smooth talk a girl into at least raising a smile. But there was nothing from her. “It’s the dog because my favourite position is doggy…” “Yes, I gathered that Mr Gasly.” She hastily shut me up and I noticed her roll her eyes. Was she not into men? Maybe that’s why my forwardness wasn’t doing it for her.

“Please, your passwords.” I watched as slowly she placed her pen on top of a notepad and pushed it across the glass topped table toward me. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. They stayed trained on me as if she had gone through military training. Unflinching. I would have been complaining if they weren’t so fucking captivating. You could get lost in these eyes.

“Earn them.” I glanced over toward Ben and smirked again. It was a game at this point. I couldn’t help myself. “Excuse me?” “I said, earn them.” I didn’t even know where this was going or why it was coming out of my mouth. I just went with it. I liked how women would squirm a little when I turned it on and I desperately wanted to know she was eating out of the palm of my hand, so sue me. But if I expected her to crumble like all of the others she surprised me. She sat back in her chair and took a deep breath before exhaling. For a brief second I thought I won and I managed to rattle her but unfortunately for me, apparently not.

“Listen, looking after a twenty-seven year old self confessed playboy is not something I thought I would be doing when I got this job so if you think your flirting will have an effect on me and I will pull a Claudia, was it? Then you are very much mistaken.” It was I that was rumbled. And she had to mention last years indiscretion by name so she had clearly been told all about it - or had she read about it online and didn’t need anyone else’s judgment about it to pass her own judgment on to me? “Now…Mr Gasly, your passwords.” Touché. Fucking Touché.

I reached for the pen and notepad and noted how much I felt like a child. It was as if I had been sent to the Alpine School’s principle’s office for being naughty in class. As I wrote down the passwords for her highness, my phone buzzed again in my jeans pocket and it suddenly l dawned on me that she would see everything I received. She would see all of the DMs I was sent along with the mountains of nudes (such as those waiting on me from last nights hook-up) that various girls sent me, mostly without a single shred of prompting. I should probably have felt a little embarrassed or ashamed by them in all fairness but for some reason - probably because she was acting like a fake ball buster she actually was one - I wasn’t. Let her look. There’s probably a fair few suggestive ones of myself on there she could find too if she really wanted too. I cursed the route of thought my own mind suddenly drove me down as now I was imagining her sliding her hand down past the waistband of her tight trousers to get off on the risqué pics I had floating around in some conversations. But she didn’t seem like the type. Fortunately for me the passwords were enough to appease her, for now. She smiled - a fake one of course - and said that was all, I could leave before adding she would would see me at testing. She would be at testing? This girl was really going to be sticking to me like glue, wasn’t she?

Thankfully, this whole fiasco was clearly coming to an end and I glanced toward the door and was desperately trying to think of something smart to say and a way to get out of here. I didn’t want to hang around for any longer than I needed to and certainly not long enough for her to continue getting one over on me or getting a metaphorical upper hand again, but it looked like she had and there was nothing I could do. When I happened to look toward Ben I realised he was smirking and clearly holding back a laugh. He was married and so never really joined in (nor understood) with the flirting and flustering behaviour I was king at. Now, after I had lost the opening match against her, it was as if he could read my startled little mind and I certainly didn’t like that. I arose out if my seat opposite my new babysitter and stared at her for a moment. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever worked in F1 - or even just a sport - before because she didn’t act like how all the girls usually acted around guys in sport. She simply seemed unimpressed. Stoic almost. “Goodbye, Mr Gasly.” A normal girl would be turned on by saying that over and over again. By now imagining how it would feel to be bent over the glass desk and having me rail them into next week. But she used it formally, professionally and without a single shred of sarcasm. I just about managed to get to the door to the office when my phone buzzed loudly one more time and I paused to remove it from my pocket.

“I hope that isn’t something I am going to have to get involved in?” Her sweet, soft voice echoed from behind and my sudden laughter filled the room as my brain had come up with the most perfect of perfect responses. “Not unless you want to make it a threesome?” I didn’t hang around long enough for her to respond and mentally high fives myself for my quick retort. She lead herself into it and my brain couldn’t catch up to my mouth. She may have been hired to be my babysitter, but that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for her.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 9: "Returning to the scene of the crime"

The heroes, finally reunited, traverse a few in-between eras, sail across Wind's Great Sea, and then end up in a much older era. Four really doesn't want to run into the current captain of the guard.

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Not Febuwhump (honestly just filler tbh)

Read On AO3 Warnings: None

Things eventually got back to normal.

The next era after a pair of heroless ones was Wind's, which Legend found much more enjoyable when he wasn't struggling to meet basic survival requirements like food, fresh water, and warmth. Even the sailing, though he hated it and his nerves were shot the whole time, was better than sitting on a flooding island as it stormed.

Four's era came after and Legend managed to pay back the people he stole from without being noticed by guards. He did keep the cloak, he liked it.

They were approached by guards though.

"Ey! Link! Welcome back!" One said, offering a high five to the Smithy. "Finally off medic leave?"

Remembering what the one medic said, Legend scowled.

Four clearly had his own reservations but complied with the high five. "I'm not on leave, Thomas, I resigned. Full time blacksmithing, remember?"

"Yeah, right," they waved a hand dismissively. "If you're looking for the captain, last I heard he took a patrol out for just outside of town."

"Thanks. Anyways I need to go, so..."

"Yeah, yeah," they said dismissively and gave a sort of condescending farewell.

Four's shoulders slumped and he looked over his shoulder at them. "Sorry about that, they umm... Most people here don’t fully believe me about the content of my adventures nor their aftereffects."

Legend glared in the direction the soldier went. "I noticed."

The other heroes had similar glares or winces of sympathy, Hyrule's magic felt a bit more volatile, and Wild's hand was twitching toward his slate.

It hit a bit close to home. He had his fair share of non-believers when he was young. Most everyone unaffected by mental magics believed him by the time he killed Ganon the fourth time, but...

"It's alright," Sky promised. "Where to?"

"The market. Hyrule Town has everything and we can restock. I'll go ask the captain about monster reports," Four said, and Legend caught his eye.

"I'll tag with you."

A few other pairs were made and Legend followed Four to the guard station he had run from last time.

"What happened last time you were here?" Four asked, eyes glinting lavender as they walked.

"I got caught for stealing some bread, and a guy I heard someone call Captain Smith caught me. I escaped again, ran into monsters, and almost passed out if not for adrenaline keeping me awake. Then I threatened that captain and more specifically the medic who helped me."

Four frowned. "Why?"

"Because he called you guys insane."

The smithy flinched, looking away. "They... What did you say?"

"I said that you guys are real, sane, and they need to pay you the respect you deserve after sacrificing your childhood for their safety."

Four looked up at him, the myriad of colors in his eyes fading behind a film of scarlet.

"You keep saying "you guys" and other plural forms of address... Why?"

Legend gave a wry smirk at the hero who came centuries before him. "In my era, the Heroes of the Four Sword are known and they're known well. Your stories... The stories of your adventures helped me through my first one, I know time and embellishment or censorship may have altered the truth of them, but every legend I ever read agreed on one thing and it is that you are heroes."

Four was silent. They had stopped walking at some point and he was staring at Legend with wide, glassy, iridescent eyes.

"We... We're known?"

Legend didn't miss the strain in his voice. He made a note to make sure all of his companions were aware of the stories told about them, at least the ones who he knew came before him.

"You are. Not that well known, I'll admit, I had to dive pretty deep into our history, and frankly, all the legends about you are written in my ancient Hylian, which almost nobody knows anymore. The Sheikah have very little on you too, so I had a roadblock there, but..." Legend shrugged. "I... I needed to find proof that my quest wasn't hopeless, and finding your story gave me an assurance that I could win and survive."

Four nodded, clearly thrown off balance. He gave Legend a wobbly smile.

"Thank you, vet. For telling me. I... I needed to hear that."

"Anytime... Now let's go see if your dad has any information for us."

Four made an agreeable noise, Legend almost missed when he wiped his face and he definitely didn't notice whatever had been wiped, but he saw the end of the movement right as Four continued ahead.

He followed after. They entered the guard station, the guards greeting Four familiarly.

"Link! You must be back to yourself then if you're..." a familiar voice trailed off, making a strained noise.

Four made a face before he looked at the medic whom Legend gave a sharp grin.

"What do you want, Johnson?" Four asked, voice carefully neutral.

The medic squawked. "Nothing! Sorry! Uhh, thanks for all your hard work, Link!"

He scrambled off. Four made a confused face while Legend snorted.

The bell visibly went off in the smithy's head and he whipped around to give Legend an incredulous look. "What was that?"

Legend grinned, watching the medic dart away. "That would be the medic I threatened."

"You--" he sighed heavily, an azure sheen settling over storm cloud gray. "Goddesses, if this is the shit you pulled here, I can't wait to see what happened in the other eras."

"Eh, I was sick in the Sailor's and whoever's came after his. For the others I just kinda ran and killed things. Like a normal adventure."

"I really don’t believe that."

When Four's father showed up, they actually already got the information they needed from a lieutenant who knew Four and had been more than happy to provide the information.

As they exited the station, Four stopped in his tracks and Legend looked to where his pale, slightly panicked eyes were looking at and his own narrowed.

"Smithy?" Legend lightly tapped his foot against the other's ankle.

Four shook his head. "S'fine. I got it." He moved forward and the knight noticed them. "Hey, Dad."

"Link, what're you doing here?"  Smith Senior sounded a bit confused, a bit worried, and Legend didn't miss the unsure glances sent his way, but ultimately he sounded blunt and detached. Legend reminded himself that he had his sword now, he had his pegasus boots, and his body wasn't drained and exhausted. He could take just about anything as he was currently.

"Passing through. Some friends and I are taking up mercenary jobs to handle problems the army can't really do thanks to bureaucracy or manpower," Four said, voice detached and cold, as blunt as he had been when the group first met him only without that cerulean sharpness.

"I see... Interesting choice of friends," Smith Senior said with a glance at Legend.

"He's weird," Four dismissed.

Legend shrugged. "I travel more and further than you think, time has never been a limitation."

Smith Senior made an odd face and with how increasingly annoyed he seemed, Legend could see the family resemblance. Oddly though, this man was not the same as the one he'd met last time. He was... colder, and less understanding.

"Yes, well... We have to go. I'll see you around," Four said, grabbing Legend's arm and dragging him on.

Legend glanced over his shoulder and met the knight's eyes. His own narrowed, considering.

The man he met before had seemed to actually care for his son, though he clearly had struggled to understand him and didn't wholeheartedly defend him... however, this man that Four was dragging Legend away from, was cold and at the very least acted as though Four wasn't good enough.

He didn't get it.

Next>>

[jungwonderz]

SECRET IDOL EXTRA - chanyn hangout

desc ; in which yn has a secret stan acc , and lee know finds it under his alias : lino. nothing could go wrong when the two idols meet under different identities and start talking to one another, right?

wc ; 558 (not proofread)

as soon as chan opens the passenger door to yn’s black BMW , he was immediately greeted with the smell of lavender and the sound of ‘the lakes’ playing. “finally , the great bang chan decides to arrive 7 minutes late.” yn says as she checks the time accompanied by a playful smirk. “you’re acting like you weren’t just late to your practice, and now you have to get dinner for everyone. so shut up and start driving.” chan retorts back in a quiet voice. even though he thought he said it quietly, yn could still hear it perfectly fine, seeing as he wasn’t as quiet as he thought. yn gasps dramatically as she says something about him being so sassy today, while she turns up her music and starts to drive to the cafe. “don’t even mention that tragic event again… they all want fried chicken and dumplings. and what’s even worse is that i have to drive them too! but hopefully the staff won’t let me drive, so maybe one of them will drive.” yn stops to take a breath then continues. “it’s horrible, they all act like hungry animals who have never eaten in their life when i have to pay for things.” yn continued. chan laughs at yn’s ‘tragic’ event as he opens his phone to be greeted with spam messages from the straykids groupchat.

a while later, they are still driving in the car with the only sounds being heard are; yn humming, taylor swift’s evermore album playing, and chan typing and occasionally laughing or sighing. that is until chan says, “your driving actually isn’t bad. i thought this was gonna be my revenge for not giving you lee knows number.” yn does a little shrug and says “nah, im not worried about that. anyways, how is your little mischievous undercover twitter account going?” chan stays silent for a while. “i dont know,” he murmured. “its not like i was actually trying to get followers or make friends. i just wanted see how and what stay were doing, buuuutt it seems like i never get what i want.” he finishes, before picking up his phone to check the account.

yn makes a confused face, but before she could ask a question chan changes the topic and says “turn left here, why aren’t you paying attention?” she softly hits him on the shoulder in a playful matter and says “oh im sorry sir chan, would you like to drive on the way back since you are so much better at driving than me?” she jokes. chan looks at her weird and says “maybe i will if you continue to risk me getting in a accident. i have to prepare for a comeback.” yn rolls her eyes and is about to say how her driving isn’t even bad, but they already made it to the cafe and she decides to stay quiet and focused to find parking.

a few minutes after, they found parking and are walking into the cafe with masks on so no one recognizes them. “could you order for us while i get seats?” yn pleaded. “there’s a certain seat i like to get in here and i want to take it before anyone gets it!” she says while getting her card out to give to chan. “ugh fine just go you loser.” he says playfully as yn smiles and goes to find the seat.

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a/n - i suck at writing so nobody talk abt that��� but also this was just a filler so yeaa!!

taglist - open, bold cant be tagged. @lcv3lies @m111nho @nikisbf @aroyaldarknessblr @felinows

[louisisalarrie]

heyy, what relationship do you think louis has with F? I know you don't believe that's his son, but personally I have many doubts on the whole thing and one of the main reasons is that i think he genuinely cares about him. I mean the way he talks about him and everything, and i dont mean interviews only, for example that time after a show when he met a little fan and he asked them how old they were and then he said something like "my little F is 7", he just said that bc he wanted to, so why would he do if he doesn't care about him? and I'm not saying that proofs that's his son, I'm just asking bc most larries that I see they claim that lou doesn't give a fuck about F, but I think he really does

hello lovely! if you are having doubts and want more info, check out this tags page that has a heap of bbg content from over the years that may help you make your mind up. and thank you for being respectful of what I believe even if you’re not sure 100% where you stand on it. so thank you and great to have you here!

I’ve touched on something similar to this before, in which, we know how much louis loves kids. him and his little sisters and bro, young fans, his sisters’ kids etc. like every situation we see him with a kid in, he lights up. same with Harry

anyway, I think bbg got out of hand and when it became far more long term and he had to be pictured with this child, he probably felt very frustrated and shitty that it got this far. He probably feels bad for the kid that his family got him involved in this, and now this kid won’t ever have a normal life. and so, he’s hung out with this kid every once in a while, watching him grow up, and I can imagine he probably does care about him a lot. He’s a very caring guy in general, and so under the circumstances, he’s trying to make this work the best he can.

He’s not gonna sit there and be like “gross kid get tf away from me” lol, but he’s balancing this distance of not being too close to become such a permanent fixture in his life, and not hurting this kid’s feelings. Again, it’s hard to know what F believes as he’s only like 8 or so, so I’m not sure how much they’ve divulged with him, but I’m pretty positive he’d know louis isn’t his dad by now tbh. but louis probably just feels shitty and wants to at least have the kid spend time having fun with him, rather than miserable for a life he didn’t choose.

Re your comment about him talking about F to the fans… in my opinion, bbg is now at the level of pretty much a strictly fan service stunt, and has been for a while now. we get the little gap filler articles from bored journalists like “all about louis tomlinson’s son!” etc. every once in a while, but otherwise it’s not really gaining him much publicity these days. he’ll mention him when he does those random Twitter chats, interviews here and there, and we get our annual Christmas photo (nothing for Father’s Day this year tho cough cough), but the GP don’t… care about it. But we as fans who follow his sisters’ accounts and are more invested, bbg is brought up for us. So because it’s not shoved in our faces from the press all the time, it’s easier to keep going with it by doing a mention about it here and there.

they still have this stunt as a bombshell to drop when necessary, though. Louis could gain some mad publicity with the end of it and still come out looking good, so it’s kinda just there until they find a suitable time for it to drop, which I have a feeling will be soon since it is so fan focused now.

lining up the end of stunts with releases/other big press news etc. is also quite tricky. this one has to be delicate because it’s got a kid involved, too.

[thesparklingwriter]

lunch is served!

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,”

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, they have a daughter, and reader still can’t cook (sorry)

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

Hi I’m back, I did not forget about this I swear!!! Anyway I’m gonna go in with the usual spiel, requests for this are always open, and leave a comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) I’ll sort out links iab because mobile is being mean to me lol

When little Jingmei is fast asleep on her father’s lap after succumbing to a nap she’ll later deny the existence of, you often try to find topics to entertain Zhongli with as he waits patiently for his daughter to wake up. When you’re not around, he’ll pick up a book, or take a nap himself, but he takes great pleasure in talking to you like this.

When you open your mouth to start a new topic, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him. And you do, nuzzling yourself into his chest, and pretending that you don’t notice the subtle sigh of content he lets out.

“Li,” you start, relaxing into him fully. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Zhongli chuckles. “I am almost certain that this is some kind of trick.”

“It is not.” You scowl. “Am I not allowed to ask why my husband loves me?”

“You are, provided you don’t start a row when I give you my answer.” Zhongli’s hand trails up to your hair, gently massaging circles in your scalp.

If Zhongli really had to think about why he loves you, he’d probably struggle to quantify it. He’s been in love before, of course, but the way he feels with you is somewhat different. Perhaps it was initially your determination that drew him to you, or it could be your positivity, or the fact you brightened the days of all who were near you. But more than anything, it’s the fact that being with you feels like home. You’re his treasure—a gem he’s spent millennia searching for, and now he has you and he knows you love him as much as he does, he’s at peace. But expressing that in a few simple words will only lend itself to misunderstandings and you accusing him of using filler and metaphors to get away with not answering his question.

“I know my question wasn’t that hard.” You tease, prodding him slightly. His body is somewhat firmer when he’s in his half dragon form, yet at the same time, his touch envelops you in warmth and comfort. He tilts his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile.

“It was, my dear. How do you expect me to translate years of affection into one sentence?”

“I expect you to do it with enthusiasm.” You joke lightly. Jingmei stirs ever so slightly, muttering to herself as she adjusts herself, her tiny rounded horns digging into your thigh. “If I asked her why she loved me, she would answer immediately.”

“Jingmei would say it’s because you feed her.”

“And that is a perfectly valid and acceptable answer.”

“For an infant. I know you well enough to know you would not accept that from me.”

It’s true, you would not accept that from him. You expect his millennia on Teyvat to grant him the vocabulary necessary to express his love. But at the same time, seated the way you are, you can feel that he cares. It’s in the way he cradles you head to his chest, the way he strokes Jingmei’s hair with contented pride, the way his breathing slows as he savours the moment he’s sharing with you. Yes, you’d love for him to bullet point everything that's led him to this moment, but what’s to point in that?

“I changed my mind. Don’t say anything.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll probably just make me cry, and then Jingmei will wake up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love.” He chuckles. His laugh almost rumbles through him, stirring your daughter slightly. You pout, as if to complain, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t want her waking up any other way. But then her head drops and she falls back asleep again, whispering softly to herself.

“I do wonder what she dreams about,” Zhongli marvels.

“Probably food. On that note, I’ll make lunch.” As you stand to leave, Zhongli’s hand wraps around yours.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Pretending your cooking is edible is an arduous affair. Let’s wait for Jingmei to wake up and then we can make something together.”

“You insult me.”

Despite the fact that your honour has been attacked, you wait for your daughter to wake up before tackling the matter of making lunch. At the mere mention of making food, Jingmei disappears up to her room, decking herself out in a chef’s outfit she’d gotten from Xiangling for her birthday.

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,” Zhongli jokes, helping her onto her stool so she can reach the kitchen counter.

“I am a good cook, Daddy. Promise.” She shoots back, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I believe you. Your father is just a big meanie.” You pull her into a hug, smothering her face and cheeks with kisses until she’s falling apart with giggles. “We should leave him here to make the food and play with your toys instead as punishment.”

“Let’s go!” Jingmei turns away from the counters and grabs your hand as she runs upstairs.

“You two are such cheats.” Zhongli complains quietly as he turns to the stove. His words fall on deaf ears as you’re already too far away to hear him.

[imminent-danger-came]

Anon chilling on the precipice of madness again, and I’m so glad you liked that last ask! Truly, there is much joy to be found in discussing how much we enjoy (*cough* are dealt immense emotional damage on a daily basis by *cough*) the monkey show. Also, since I apparently can’t stop bugging you, for clarity’s sake I’m going to call myself Unhinged Anon if I submit any future asks lol. 

As always you make excellent points, and I am very normal about you bringing up the ‘MK smiling at his reflection’ thing because the motif of reflections in this show (see also: S2E5, S3E4, some others I’m probably missing, and especially S4E1) doesn’t make me even the tiniest bit insane. Nope! Not at all. But this time, it’s actually something you said in the tags that launched my marbles into the stratosphere for me to never find, because now I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want, like… a Sandy spinoff series or something. 

And I don’t mean a lore-heavy, epic adventure rich in heavy themes and conflicts like we have in the main series, just with Sandy at the center instead of MK. I want Sandy's series to be almost exclusively season one-style laid back episodes. But the good kind of laid back episodes, you know? Stuff like S1E6&7, that a lot of people dismiss, especially on a first watch, as nothing more than filler but actually serve as a subtle expansion/exploration of characters (“I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” still haunts me) and dynamics hidden under the guise of a silly little adventure with funny jokes, great animation, and fairly low stakes. 

I want to see what an appointment with Sandy’s therapist looks like, or even just the shenanigans he gets up to during those episodes where he’s mysteriously absent and only Tang seems to notice. 

I want to see Sandy teach Tang how to make tea, and maybe nerd out about those theories Sandy mentioned having about the gang's whole deal with the OG Companions.

I want to see Sandy’s endless teddy bear energy clash with Red-wants to seem intimidating but will also grab his new friends warm milk if they ask-Son. 

I want to see Wukong forced to have an extended conversation with Sandy, or really anyone from the team that isn’t MK or actively yelling at him, and getting to really see how they work off of each other. 

I want to see the secret ‘how do we help our clearly not okay friend?’ talks Mei and Sandy have behind MK’s back whenever he starts acting weird, and all the gossip that goes on during the yoga sessions they start doing together after Mei gets the Samadhi fire. 

I want to see Sandy talking with the little girl that LBD possessed, especially since something kind of similar happened to him during season 4, and accidentally becoming her new (and favorite) giant blue uncle. 

I want an episode of MK and Sandy hanging out. Just chilling on the boat, playing with Mo, going for a little walk around town until BOOM! Sandy brings MK to his unsuspecting therapist, who’s about to get the most interesting case of their career. And maybe, if we’re allowed a little angst, a discussion about how scary it is to be born with a lot of power that not only can, but will, hurt a lot of people if it isn't carefully controlled. About how they’ve tried, and failed, to avoid causing pain. About wanting to never cause pain, and how the futility of that sentiment almost outweighs the importance of trying anyways. 

And above all, I DEMAND a Pigsy-Sandy origin story! 

Anyways, this is basically just me edging ever closer to the brink of madness after you accidently inflicted No Thoughts, Only Sandy syndrome upon me with your last response. But, it's also an invitation to gush about Sandy some more, if you want, and also share anything you would want to see in a hypothetical Sandy show!

Unhinged Anon I got you, here's a motif post where I have every MK reflection in the whole show.

AND “I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” HAUNTS ME TOO. There's something about the way those shots are set up, cracking from blue to gold:

MK also becoming a "master of focus" in this ep, with focus becoming important later in episodes like 1x09 and 3x11/12 with Mei.

BUT ANON.

Imma use this ask as a spring board for one of my fav personal theories, which is this: OG Sandy, from the original jttw pilgrimage, is also our current day Sandy!

I'll probably throw this into an official theory post later, but for now I'll go into this theory underneath the cut:

First, let's start with 2x08 To Catch a Leaf, during which Sandy has several PTSD flashbacks:

So, the first one is some sort of battlefield, and the second one...

Is of Zhu Bajie?

Now, we know Pigsy has never worn an outfit like this based off of this comment in 4x05:

Pigsy: "Blue ain't really my color, but it beats looking like that monster, Zhu Ganglie."

-

The Pig Demon in that flashback from 2x08 HAS to be Zhu Bajie of the original jttw pilgrimage. But why would Sandy have a memory like that?

Next is the fact that while everyone else in 4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids is compared to their past life, Sandy notably isn't.

Tang knows friendship, but unlike Tang Sanzang isn't studious.

Mei is bold and brave, but lacks Ao Lie's caution.

Pigsy like Zhu Bajie is stubborn, but he has the heart his predecessor originally lacked.

Yet this is all Subodhi has to say to Sandy:

Subdohi: "You have nothing more to learn my hilariously blue student! Another star for you!" Sandy: "Dooww thank you wise master!" Subodhi: "But! You're far too nice for your own good." Sandy: "Uh huh, you noticed!"

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

It's exceedingly strange that in an episode where Subodhi breaks down everyone's character arcs, Sandy is told he's all good. He has nothing more to learn, and no more character development to go through.

Unless of course...Subodhi quite simply couldn't compare Sandy to his past life because there was no past life to compare him to.

Another detail in s4 that's always intrigued me is how Sandy is brought back to himself from Sha Wujing in 4x06.

Pigsy's heartfelt speech on the legacy of their past lives not defining their current one, or how they're not monsters, doesn't work. It's instead Mo offering Sandy wholehearted love that brings Sandy back:

Which, of course Sandy has a close bond with Mo, but Pigsy's speech wasn't anything to scoff at either:

Pigsy: "No. No! Just cause we look a certain way, cause our monster ancestors were, well, monsters, none of that matters! I won't let his legacy define mine, and neither should you! Your the strongest, the biggest, the bluest guy I know! But all you've ever used those muscles for is to help people in need—your friends. That don't sound like a monster to me." (4x06 Show Me the Monster)

As far as we know, that should have been the exact thing Sandy needed to be freed from his past life, and yet it wasn't.

That would be because, at least under the confines of this theory, the guy Pigsy is saying Sandy wasn't like was indeed who Sandy used to be. Yes, Sandy has far outgrown the person who fought to establish his own place in the world, learning that "hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength". But here's the thing, who you used to be matters. Unlike Pigsy's relationship with Zhu Bajie, Sandy's relationship with who he was in the past can't as easily be written off. It's still a part of him.

There are also certain other details. like the fact that Sandy knows his way to Flower Fruit Mountain in "A Hero is Born", or how he's so knowledgeable on ancient powerful remedies like the crimson jimson weed. Of course these details could be chalked up to plot convenience—which is by no means a flaw or complaint—but I've always wondered if there was anything more to it.

But, Sandy's more laid back reaction to most things has always intrigued me, and it would re-contextualize certain scenes like this one from 2x10 in a fun way:

Pigsy: "No! What could have been so important that you'd leave MK alone to face that- that thing! You're supposed to be his mentor-"

Sandy: "ENOUGH!" "I think we should give Mr. Monkey King, a chance to explain."

(2x10 This is the End!)

Of course with this theory comes a few questions, like why Sandy didn't meet the same fate as the other pilgrims, or why he wouldn't let Sun Wukong know he was alive, or why he would bother to pretend he wasn't the OG Sha Wujing at all. And honestly? I don't have an answer to these questions!

But what I do know is that Sandy's friends are greatly important to him-

Sandy: "Hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength—took me a really long time to realize that. As long as I'm doing something to help out a friend, I don't mind what it is! I just want to be there for 'em when they need me. Cause at the end of the day, helping my friends is more important than anything else in the world!" (2x08 To Catch a Leaf)

-and losing them would affect him greatly.

Whatever happened to the og jttw crew, that could very easily be the reason Sandy was "the most dangerous, deadly, rage filled warrior [Pigsy] ever [knew]". Based off of that 2x08 Zhu Bajie flashback, Sandy could very well have watched his friend die.

But, now that Sandy has his friends back in his life? Of course he's going to do whatever he can for them!

Which would include anything from making tea to breaking his vow to never fight again.

And please for the love of god give us a Pigsy - Sandy origin story. I'm begging. WHAT IS THEIR HISTORY MAN. WHY DID PIGSY KNOW HOW TO COMMIT A JAILBREAK.

[fountainpenguin]

"I keep pushin' forward, but he keeps pullin' me backwards... (Don't pick up the phone; don't let him in; don't be his friend...)" (x)

Top 10 Hanahaki Life Hacks (#8 Will Shock You)

Sour Petals AU Guide

❤️ Read on AO3

🧡 M - Ongoing multichapter

💙 Blog Tag - #Sour Petals AU

💚 More MCYT AUs

And she should apologize, but the words that gush out are more like, “You cheated on me,” which isn’t an apology at all. Unless it is (between the lines). Martyn winces, still shaking coffee from his arm. “I was coming back… I just took the wrong subway car. I swear… I was coming back.” No. No, not this again. Cat and yarn; hold the mouse. Cleo’s nails dig into the lines in her palms, scraping out cinnamon flecks. “Martyn, Scott heard it from Pearl’s mouth. Just… Tell me you were drunk or something. At least try to make up a story I’ll believe. Do you even care? Am I just…? Does it even matter to you, what I think?” And with a hasty backpedal, “If she took advantage, you can tell me. You can tell me. She’s Scott’s ex anyway; I’ve got her blocked everywhere I could think of. We never talk.” “It was late and I boarded the wrong subway,” Martyn says again, but he is lying. It’s always an excuse; never an apology.

Martyn coughs up flowers for years after the divorce, making bank as a florist, dye salesman, painter... anything he can put his on-and-off Hanahaki disease to use for.

Cleo just wants to move on.

Double Life SMP & Limited Life SMP-themed Hanahaki AU, set in a modern Hermitcraft universe

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

New Rules

- 🥀 -

Martyn Littlewood started dyeing at age 31.

Every day, 6:15 AM, Cleo stands by the stairs that lead down to the subway, waiting by the window while Martyn rips flowers from his skin. The stems snap off, but the roots remain. They’ve got him so fiercely, tongue-tied and ripped apart, that every time he laughs, he sounds more undead than alive. How many surgeries can a florist afford to get those things removed? Or does he do it all himself? He looks awful sometimes (especially in the summer) when thorny vines wrap his arms and legs. Sometimes his arms hang like limp meat at his sides. The tubes, canes, and chairs he uses look increasingly expensive.

32-year-old Martyn Littlewood runs the flower shop in Aqua Town. Cleo’s stepped through that door to stand among lush, strong-scented plants more times than she’d care to admit. They’re… cordial. At least, Martyn doesn’t seem to hate her. She’s never hated him.

“Well, you’ve made me a rich man. I don’t spend a lick on material. It just comes to me.” He crushes blue petals with a squeeze of his hand. Cleo grips her bag in one hand, gazing back over the rims of her sunglasses. Martyn has stitch marks up and down his face. All over his hands. There’s one right across his forehead. He wears a neck brace now. Or if it’s not a brace, it’s some sort of bandage. All her own marks are zombie-themed tattoos. They fit her zombie aesthetic. The aesthetic came first. He smiles, painfully from behind the counter, and threads baby’s breadth in a bouquet as a filler flower. It’s coming back in style, he says, after a decade of it being overdone. Honestly, Cleo doesn’t get why he even tries selling the flowers; he should stick to dye. Everything is dying here. Except his energy, when he says, “What brought you in here, m’dude? Hot date tonight?”

There’s silk and chocolate in his voice. It catches her through the gut, like she tripped and speared herself on a stalagmite. Uh. Cleo lifts one finger to the window. “You took down your neopronouns sign. I just wanted to ask what’s up; if you’re okay.”

The sign was mangrove wood and cut in the shape of a peony. Martyn flicks his eyes to the place it used to hang, then goes back to work. “Aw, that… Well, flower pronouns aren’t super practical when I’m in the shop. I’m looking for others. Something more versatile. Nothing has that same rush, but I’m not giving up.”

That makes sense. Does that make sense? He doesn’t look at her. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” she says without thinking. Martyn stops. His eyes stay pinned on the nearest wilting rose.

“Yeah. Are you not cool with that?”

It’s not a challenge, but she knows he’d shove back if she pushed. It’s easier, running fingers through her hair. “Honestly, it’s fine. Mine’s still on the bathroom counter. I see it every day. Sometimes I still wear it. Mostly when I’m out with Scott or Cub.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Martyn nods. His hands move again, fluffing the tiny flowers from below. “People talk.”

“They do.”

He clears his throat in his fist. Cleo moves away, examining the fridges in the back so he can cough up petals without an ex hovering around him. His coughs are thick and damp. He stands and leaves the room.

- 🌹 -

Martyn’s work often took him away from Hermit Hills. He and his best friend ran a summer camp called Dogwarts out in the flats, in that little piece of rumpled land that sat too near the desert for the local farmers to take an interest. She met Martyn because of that camp, actually, when they were 24 and 25 and he reached out with a little Hey, I love your work and we’re mutual friends with Scott and Pearl email to ask if she’d do a presentation on insects and other forest wildlife for the kids. He said his usual presenter was out tagging eagles that week, and honestly… Where do you even go from that? He and Ren offered good money, too. She could probably type up her research remotely for a few days. A few weeks. Even if she didn’t make as much progress as she’d like, the network opportunity might be worth its weight in diamond blocks.

“You should,” Scott encouraged when she called him up to check if this Martyn guy really was his friend. “Pearl and I are counselors. We can all hang out together! And you can tell the kids about that time you bottle-fed the bear cubs.”

… Yeah, all right. She worked more often with bats, but talking about the bear cubs always turns eyes her way. Wildlife rehabilitation isn’t really a standalone career, and that’s a good thing to prepare kids for at an animal-lovers camp. She could still smell the baby formula blended with blueberries, the cubs with creamy droplets smeared across their muzzles and cheeks.

She took the offer. Three weeks later, there she was… Camp Dogwarts and its insects, poison ivy, and whatever else lay waiting for her. Cleo basked a few last seconds in the bliss of the air conditioning, then switched off the car and stepped into summer sun. Martyn and Ren both shook her hand, beaming. He/him or flower/rose. He/they/it or neopronouns that fit a canine theme. They said it back to back, fluidly and effortless.

Cleo paused. Then, “She/her professionally. I’ve… considered experimenting, but my social life’s been tied to work for so long, I don’t know where to start.” With Scott, obviously, but pronouns sounded like such a big commitment. Ren clasped their hands; if they’d had a tail, it would have wagged. And he probably would have loved that.

“Oh, dude! We have so much to talk about! Can I call you ‘dude?’”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Martyn gave the tour while Ren and the counselors kept an eye on the kids. The hilltop pergola made a perfect lookout point. Martyn shielded his eyes, then pointed across the field to a second hilltop building in the distance. “Bean Hill. Rrrrright over there, that’s the edge of camp.”

His eyes? Flower’s eyes? She understood the pronouns in theory, though trying to wrap her mind around them left her suddenly aware of everything she didn’t know. She felt like she’d been stripped, her clothes dunked in the lake. “Cozy place,” she replied. “You and Ren built all this?”

“Yes, ma’am! Placed every block with our own four hands.” And they talked about that, soaking in the sunlight, until Cleo asked the itchy question that wouldn’t leave her thoughts alone.

“Real quick… You don’t have to get into it, but how did you find neopronouns that were right for you? Or… how did you decide to take that leap? I imagine people talk. Ask a lot of questions. So, you must be pretty committed to them if you share them openly.”

Martyn gazed out across the hill, sighing through his(?) nose. “I use them at camp. Not so much at home. I don’t dare discuss it with my parents.” Then, leaning rose’s shoulder (was that right?) on the pergola support, flower said, “You know that discourse that goes around every once in awhile about gift giving being a ‘selfish’ love language? Or have you ever heard someone talk about how they’d never be able to stand dating someone who sort of expected gifts throughout the year?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that. I’ve always thought gift giving wasn’t so much about what was given as it was about the thought that you exist in someone’s mind even when you’re not there in front of them. Like, they care enough about you, they wanted you to know they saw something and thought of you. When someone puts the thought into my pronouns… it means they thought about me. And the world is better.” Flower bent down and pulled a dandelion from the grass. “Ren says it would probably be called it/its more often if it really did have a werewolf form, and sometimes that feels good and sometimes it’s lonely. I dunno… Everyone’s just out here getting by, I guess. It’s worth having something to smile about every day. Neopronoun use is like that for me. Free smiles in the tip jar.”

“I’m not sure tips are free.”

❤️ Read on AO3

[stellasfictionalworld]

part 7.

part 8 (out now)

a/n: kinda a filler, but builds out some stuff. already posted the next chapter as well!!

let me know if you wanna be on a tag list <333

reader x andre anderson 

cw: (i mean you’ve watched the show so) negative views of sex, reader seeing sex as a tool rather than pleasure, implied sex, toxic ex's, drugs, drinking, angst, eventual fluff, slut shaming

word count: 2k

You read off the script teleprompter with a forced smile. Your lips were coated in an overly expensive lipstick brand. Then you shifted your eyes to the mirror on the set. You wore a skimpy pink dress with white fluffy white wings on the back. You drew a heart with a bow through it and panned to the camera again. 

Then you blew a kiss at the camera and someone shouted “It's a wrap!” afterward. Your shoulders dropped and you immediately walked off the set. The white lights made you see spots in your changing room. You ripped the dress off and scrubbed off the pink on your lips. You rushed to get into some jeans and a pink top. You were in the middle of tying your laces as you heard a voice. 

“Well, my daughter is a bit overwhelmed. After all, she’s doing so much,” your mom’s voice felt like listening to nails on a chalkboard. Fuck. You sighed, trying to think of some sort of diversion or a plan to get out of here. She called your name outside the door. Fuck.

“Yeah just a second,” you said before wearing a gray hoodie. You took in a deep breath and then forced on a smile. The door unlocked and there was your mother. She stood tall in her black office dress. You were practically a spitting image of her, even your fake smile matched the one she wore.

  “Hi Mom,” you said and looked down at your phone. You fixed your hair as you looked at the camera and walked to her. You both smiled into it and you posted it on your story. Writing, 

done shooting for a commercial, mom came too ♥ .

“What’s up?” you asked and put your phone away. You walked past all the staff and she was by your side. 

“What’s up?” she quoted. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks,” she said. 

“That’s not true. We literally saw each other two days ago,” you glanced at her. She was holding her tongue, the frustration building up. 

“To sign paperwork,” she said. “I mean really talking with you, I’m worried,” her voice was low. 

A pit formed in your stomach, you already knew where this was going. 

“The headlines of me being a slut for a guy? Yeah, I’m fucking fine,” you slammed the door to the exit. You threw up your hoodie as your mom scoffed. 

“Well,” she dragged out the word and you looked at her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed together. The pit in your stomach grew. 

“God Mom,” you groaned, “I haven’t even fucked him yet,” you said. 

“Jesus, don’t have to go that far into detail,” she said. 

“Well you wanted to know,” you shrugged. You stopped at a vending in the hallway, pressing the numbers. 

“Do you like him?” she asked. 

“I think so,” you muttered as a KitKat got stuck in the vending machine. “Fuck,” your head hit the glass. 

“Oh stop being dramatic,” your mom said. “Anyway, figure it out. It’s good for branding if you’ll stick to a guy. Maybe it’ll finally bury the slut shaming and those pictures,” she said like it didn’t twist the knife in your heart. “Just actually stick with someone this time, I don’t fucking care who,” she added with a snark. You jammed in the number again and the other KitKat fell on top of the other. You then tried to shake the machine but it didn’t budge. 

“Jesus Christ, listen,” she scoffed. “Your image is on the line, so don’t go fucking it up again,” she put a hand on your shoulder. There wasn't a single ounce of warmth in her voice, just the professional boss you knew the day you told her you had powers. You numbly nodded and she patted your shoulder. Nodding like it was your fault those pictures were taken like you had a fucking choice. You bit the inside of your cheek till you tasted pennies. Then a phone rang and she pulled her hand away. 

“Yes, this is her,” she paused, “no we canceled his sponsorship. Yeah just send those pallets to someone else, someone more fucking woke whatever,” she continued for a couple of minutes before hanging up. You were still staring at the vending machine in the empty hallway. Your chest got tight. Your mom sighed. “We were supposed to have this huge sponsorship but the guy had to leave evidence of being a pedo,” she shook her head, “the beauty community is a fucking shit show, so much drama.”

“Mom,” you turned around and she gave you a blank stare. “Do you think I’m a slut?” you asked.

“Oh honey,” your mom frowned and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Young people go through so many phases, it’ll blow over,” then her phone rang. She picked it up. You stared at her blankly, your heart shattered to pieces. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve gotta go,” she said, “take that hoodie off by the way, or get something pink instead,” and then she walked towards the exit. When the door clicked you slid down the vending machine, tears falling down your face. You brought your knees to your chest and let it all out. You’d learned last summer that bottling it up would only make it worse. You stifled back sobs and let it pass. 

When you were done you wiped away the tears, thankful the hallway was dead. Anyway, if someone saw you cry, at least the hoodie protected your face. You wouldn’t want a phone call from your mother, shouting at you for still wearing gray and crying in public. Speaking of people, footsteps slowly made it your way. You stared down at your sneakers, fiddling with the zipper of your hoodie. 

“Cupid?” Luke asked. 

“Yep,” you muttered and wiped away your remaining tears. 

“Oh shit, are you okay?” he asked. You nodded your head up and down, then side to side. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. You shook your head and he didn’t say anything. He walked around you to put in the code for whatever he wanted. The machine whirred and something landed with a loud thud. 

“Fuck,” he said and you looked up at him. “I was gonna share a KitKat with you… but it’s stuck…” he said. 

“Fuck,” you laughed, “the ones under it are mine,” you said. 

“That is so unlucky,” he said and then asked you to move away from the machine. He then shook the machine and all three of them fell. He grabbed them and handed you your share. You thanked him and he sat beside you. You unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite. 

“I don’t want to pry but, are you upset with Andre?” he asked and you whipped your head in his direction. 

“No no, it’s not us,” you said, almost shocked he even thought to ask. He cracked a smile for some reason and you tilted your head to the side. “Should I be upset with him?” you raised a brow. 

“No, not at all,” he shook his head. 

“Good,’’ you sighed. You and Andre had been seeing each other for almost two weeks now. Except for the last couple of days, he had some promotional shit to do with his dad. You two usually hang out in private. Inside each other's dorms usually, or one of his friends' places. It was something your mom suggested, saying you wouldn’t embarrass Andre that way, which she was right. Also no, you hadn’t even had your first kiss with Andre yet. Just small pecks on the cheek and lots of holding hands. He seemed okay with it, never pushing you to be as affectionate as he was. However, you were afraid you’d bore him soon. 

“I’m going to be honest,” Luke started and you held your breath. “You make Andre happy, like I’ve never seen him so… infatuated with someone. He really likes you,” he said. 

Your brows knitted together and you smiled softly. “Really?” you asked, not that Andre never told you the same things. He adored you and let you know every single day. Though you’ve had people in the past tell you the same things and it was all a lie. 

“Yep,” he said with a proud smile. You smiled wider, looking down at your KitKat. Then looked up at Luke with a brow raised. “Infatuated is a pretty big word for you,” you joked and he looked offended.

“That’s rude, after what I just told you,” he playfully said and put a hand over his heart. “I confided in you,” he continued. 

“Not my fault Cate is your chatty tutor,” you said and bumped his shoulder. 

You both laughed softly in the quiet hallway and ate your KitKat’s. Luke then got a text and sighed. Worry lines traced his face but then he plastered on a smile your way. It was so easy to spot, that you sometimes wondered why all of you tried to hide it from each other. You didn’t press it, you two weren’t exactly that close for you to comment. 

“Sorry, I have to do more training,” he said and got up. “But if you ever need a KitKat break, let me know,” he said and you nodded up at him. 

“Thanks,” you softly smiled and he was off. There was warmth in your chest as you finished your second KitKat.

… 

You unlocked your dorm room door and headed inside. You stared at the messy bed across from yours. Ashley and you were not on talking terms recently. It had been almost over two weeks since you told her you needed a break. She begged at first, but when you calmly stated you needed space, she respected it. Sorta. She still did text you, simply about school, trying to get you back. However, you just ignored them. 

You dropped your bag on the floor and collapsed on your bed. You breathed in your lavender sheets and tucked yourself in. You reached for your charger and your knuckles brushed up against some paper. You looked at your nightstand to see a bouquet sitting on it. You sat up in bed and picked it up. 

Your favorite flowers with a couple of others were arranged beautifully. You took in their floral scent and gently pried off the taped envelope. Your name was written with a heart next to it. You opened it and took out the letter. The handwriting was clean and in pink ink. 

Heard you had a rough day, baby. 

Hoping these make you feel better.  

– Andre♥️

P.S. I’m definitely making up for the time I’ve been gone. 

Your heart burst and you smiled stupidly at the card. Immediately you sent a selfie of yourself with flowers. You added every single heart emoji you could find and thanked him. You opened your Instagram account, pulling up the photo to share on your story. Your thumb hovered over the send button, wondering if Andre even wanted to be more associated with you. It was eating you up on the inside, the shame of just being who you were. You shut your phone off and slammed a pillow over your face. Letting out an embarrassing and much-needed scream. 

This guy fucking liked you, a lot. You liked him just as much. He set butterflies in your stomach still and made you feel like you were on top of the world. Seriously, when was the last time a guy cared about so much? Your heart hammered against your chest and you pulled the pillow down to your chest. You needed to stop beating yourself up, eventually everyone would forget.  “Fuck it,” you said and got your phone. You made sure to tag him. You hit send and then put your phone on Do Not Disturb. Your chest felt heavy but you also felt giddy. You tried to sleep afterward, it being 10 pm already, but you were so restless.

[mvnces]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what made you pick up the muse you have?: I know that I usually have a type but a lot of the time? it's literally just me consuming a piece of media and going 'i like this lil dude! they're mine now!' and writing them even if it's for, like, two days

is there anything you don’t like to write?: it's not that i don't like writing it but I don't know how to write action/fight scenes rip

is there anything you really enjoy writing?: the silly shit, every day type of scenes. think of it as 'filler' between the main plots/story line but just the little interactions that build the character and relationships

how do you come up with your headcanons?: it pops into my head like a vision

do you write in silence or do you play music?: it varies but for the most part? I have a youtube video (like video essays, gaming videos, etc). for background noise as I write. not to out myself as a s/mosh enjoyer but i've been using their betrayal legacy videos my main background noise recently

do you plan your replies or wing them?: it depends on the reply but it's usually winging it. honestly? even when i do have a plan... i end up winging half of it anyways

do you enjoy shipping?: I enjoy it a concerning amount tbh

what’s your alias/name?: stiles

age?:  24 (i literally had to think about it because my sister said i was 25 one (1) time & it just stuck in my brain)

birthday?:  november

favorite color?: it changes a lot but i like yellow rn <3 and blue or green

favorite song?: rn it's bloodsport by sleep token . moth introduced it to me & i will make it everyone's problem <3

last movie you watched?  i completely forgot about it but i watched the mario movie!

last show you watched?: hawaii 5-0 i think?? it's been a good month since i watched a show (i need to start s3 for abbott elementary though)

last song you listened to?: cop car by mitski 

favorite food?: i don't know what tf they're called but my mom used to make lil cresent squares filled with chicken and veggies? shit slaps

favorite season?: spring! the flowers are pretty

do you have a tumblr best friend?: @kurjaks @camptw1nk ... i kiss on their lil heads <3

tagged by : i took it from @guttcrson

tagging: i am pspspsing at all of u

[pleuvoire]

didn’t want to tag spoilers but the first 13-ish eps of gaim where it was about dance team turf wars was sooooo incoherent and no-sense-making you can really tell that urobuchi was just fucking around until the big reveal. really just doing some “uhhh blah blah filler plot i don’t care about ANYWAY NOW ITS TIME FOR THE REAL STORY. SIKE” shit. what an absolute skill issue as a writer