#but i put a lot of love into it so i hope you like it

[daydreamingatnight209]

“I Don’t Like Sleeping Without Her”

Authors note - I was confident about this one but now I’m not sure. I hope you guys still enjoy 🥺. As always feedback is welcome, hate is not ✨💕

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summery - In which Charles mentions your habits in an interview on media day. - Fluff 💕

Warnings - None? I don’t think 😂

————————————————————————

You didn’t mean to fall asleep on the sofa, it just sort of … happened.

One moment you were finishing off a last round of edits for a client, scrolling through other projects or drafts or catching up on emails, and the next … your eyes would blur, feeling too heavy to keep open, your laptop sliding off your knee onto the empty spot next to you, waking up hours later with a stiff neck and your boyfriend, Charles, crouching down beside you.

You remember the first time that it had happened, you remembered the panic in Charles eyes when he found you still in the living room at 2am, and how he thought that he had done something to upset you.

“Mon ange, why are you here?” He’d asked you softly, his voice still heavy with sleep.

(Translation - My Angel)

You had smiled, barely awake. “I didn’t want to wake you, you need your sleep”

You knew that he did - between traveling, the races, back to back weekends and his training ensuring that Charles was well rested was a non-negotiable.

On the other hand, your job in the media industry as a videographer meant that your working hours didn’t always finish in the evening. Charles knew this, but he wasn’t used to falling asleep without you just yet.

Over time, it had become a routine, you would stay up late and when Charle did awake to find you still not beside him, the panic would subside as he knew exactly where to find you.

When he awoke out of habit to find your bed empty, he would drag himself out of bed and walk to the semi permanent spot you find yourself in. He would stand for a moment and smile to himself. You looked so peaceful. He never understood how you could sleep like that; curled up on the sofa, one arm tucked under your cheeks and your laptop half hanging off the coffee table. He didn’t feel like just leaving you there that night.

Trying to wake you he whispers his favourite nickname down your ear.

“Mon amour?” (Translation - My Love)

No answer.

So he slipped his arms under your legs and shoulders, carefully lifting you up, trying his hardest not to wake you. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before passing back out with your head against Charles chest.

“I got you Bebe” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. (Translation- Baby)

He made quick work of carrying you through the apartment and putting you down in the bed to rest properly. You were already fully settled when he slid into the beside you as your hand instinctively finds his under the duvet.

These are the parts he liked most, the quiet, peaceful just them kind of moments.

However, come next morning and it wasn’t just between the two of you anymore. A few days prior to that sweet interaction, Charles had done an interview for the F1 media day.

“Charles, there’s been some talk from the paddock… something about your girlfriend falling asleep on the sofa?”

“Ah yes. Y/N she works late,” Charles was saying, standing relaxed in front of a backdrop full of sponsors. “Social media never really sleeps, right?” He smiled a little.

A few journalists chuckled. One asked, “What do you do then?”

Charles tilted his head, thoughtful. “It depends. A lot of times I just join her, other times if I hadn’t noticed till late I leave her to sleep and other times…” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I’m stubborn, I carry her back to bed. I don’t really like to be sleeping without her.”

Someone—you suspected it was one of the Ferrari PR team—had clipped part of his media day interview and posted it online.

“When I’m stubborn, I carry her back to bed. I don’t really like to be sleeping without her.”

The clip went viral almost immediately. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, everywhere.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Charles didn’t say much about their relationship publicly. He wanted to keep you safe and protected from those who weren’t supportive. But when he did, it always sounded exactly like him—honest, simple, no extra words but always full of love and awe.

You showed him while the two of you were having breakfast, you scrolling through your phone and trying not to laugh.

“What?” Charles asked, trying to get a better look of what was making you giggle so early in the morning.

“Look, you’ve gone viral Romeo” you said, holding up your phone.

There were memes already:

• Pierre Gasly on Instagram Stories: “Bro romantic for no reason 💀”

• Lando Norris tweeting: “Charles Leclerc carrying his girlfriend like she’s a Ferrari front wing 😭priorities”

• Lewis Hamilton chiming in on Instagram: “Real love is carrying her and not waking her up. Respect.”

• Carlos Sainz texting the group chat directly: “So you’re the paddock’s softest now? Should I buy you a teddy bear?” followed by three crying-laughing emojis.

Charles rolled his eyes and tugged you gently from your hand, setting it aside before pulling you onto his lap and closer against his chest.

Charles pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Let them all talk,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t have us any other way, mon chéri”

(Translation - my darling)

[supremehavok]

Cake and Ice Cream | m.r

plot: Robby’s teenage daughter comes in with stomach pains and puts all her trust in you, her father’s girlfriend. No pressure!

category: fluff and a little bit of angst

c/w: surgery (appendicitis), inaccurate medical depictions (I’m not a doctor I just play one on tv), IVs (not descriptive), no use of y/n

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: girldad!Robby yayy! I loved the idea of Robby with a teen daughter who’s like 5’10” (I come from a family of a lot of tall women and they’re awesome), athletic and independent but still needs her dad to sing to her when she’s afraid and hold her hand. The story is a bit split between the readers involvement and the b-plot of the relationship between Robby and his daughter and I’m really sorry if it feels like I got too into the b-plot. Also I’m sorry I gave her a name and I’m sorry if you hate it it just felt slightly silly to try and work around no one ever saying her name. Jess Robinavitch sounded fairly natural to me so I hope it’s not too egregious lol. And yeah I know there’s already a Jesse in the show but it’s fine lol

You didn’t get to see the sun rise that morning; early shifts in the wintertime skewed your perception of time. It was awful when an hour passed, but never getting a chance to glance out the window ends up tricking you into believing half of the day had already passed. After discharging your third patient of the day, you took a minute at the hub to sit down in front of an empty computer and rest your eyes. You didn’t bother to check your watch; it would just disappoint you.

You kept your head limp in your hand, slow breaths that betrayed how drained you already were. Every time footsteps pattered around behind you, you hoped and prayed they didn’t ask for you. In your little moment of rest, you were in bed, a warm bed beside a very warm man. It was wishful thinking since you woke up alone this morning; Robby had to be at an attending meeting and budget conference for the entire morning, and frankly, you were just missing him. You became so accustomed to seeing him every other night, seeing him almost every day shift as you both crossed paths and stood across from one another in trauma rooms. It felt silly, missing him when you were just in his bed a few hours ago, but love had a way of overriding all that seemed logical and rational at times.

When someone finally tapped you on the shoulder, you groaned, your shoulders falling slack for just a moment before straightening up and swinging around on your chair. 

“You got a patient in exam two,” Donnie pointed over his shoulder. 

You wordlessly nodded with a tired smile, your hand sluggishly moving to rub the back of your neck, stalling for a moment. You finally stepped out of the rolling chair and took the patient chart from Donnie. You took a quick glance and nearly tripped on your own two feet.

Jessica Robinavitch.

The ink smeared writing was waiting above the horizontal line at the top of the chart. You looked over at Donnie walking beside you towards the exam room, a slight raise of your eyebrow evident. “Does Robby know she’s here?” you asked.

“Doubt it. She didn’t even want Dana seeing you walk in,” he muttered just as he reached out and pulled the curtain back on the room. 

Jess lay back on the exam bed. Light blue and silver volleyball uniform with the big 10 on the front of the jersey. Her arms were crossed over her stomach like a protective shield, her features curled into a mix of wince and grimace. The second your amber eyes stopped focusing on the floor below and looked up, both you and Donnie reached back and closed the curtain around you all and perked up. 

“Hey Jess,” you took a seat on the stool behind you. Your eyes roamed her patient chart. “You’re having some abdominal pain? Feeling warm too?”

“Already took her temp; 102.8°.”

“Where does it hurt right now?”

Jess moved her hand down the length of her stomach and gestured carefully around the area of her right side, just beside her navel. You pushed your foot to budge your stool closer to the exam bed. After snapping on some gloves, you hovered over Jess’s stomach before pressing on the spot; even the slightest pressure made her jolt upright and hiss. You took her temperature again, the number slowly creeping to 103°. 

You gave Jess a soft look, taking in how her skin looked slightly sallow under the hospital lights. “Your dad’s upstairs; I can go get him if you want,” you offered. 

You were unsure; you could go forward and ultrasound her and order the necessary tests, but it felt wrong. You had the feeling Jess was only just getting used to having you around, and you were trying to push your luck considering you and Robby spent so much time together even outside the hospital: dinners with Jess at home and going to her games whenever possible. You wanted her to like you; she wasn’t ever rude or uninviting, but before you came along, Robby was raising her all on his own, and you understood how close they were. You didn’t want to be the thing that swooped in and removed the fleeting quality time she had with Robby. 

To your surprise, Jess shook her head. “No. I don’t want him to freak out. Mia’s mom brought me in because my fever spiked this morning. I’m hoping I just ate something bad at her house.”

You scribbled a line for labs on her chart as you nodded in understanding. “Then your secret is safe with me. We’re going to run some tests just to rule out a few things. I’ll do an ultrasound on your stomach as well. I’m more worried about the placement of your pain than anything. If it’s anything more serious than food poisoning or intolerance, I might have to get your dad down here. He’ll need to sign consent forms,” you explained before adding, “Or else I’ll end up on his shit list indefinitely.” 

Jess snorted, her hands still clutching her tender abdomen. “I hate the shit list. A few weeks ago I ate the last Biscoff cookie in the pantry, so he moped around the house like a depressed ghost, and then that same night he just so happened to cook my least favorite food for dinner.”

“That really thick buckwheat pasta?”

“Yes,” you could actually see Jess’s lip curl in disgust for a split second, “for a man pushing fifty-five, he’s real petty sometimes.”

“But you love him.”

“But I love him.”

It took a solid hour and a half to get all of the labs back, and after you did an ultrasound on Jess’s stomach, you came to a clear diagnosis. Appendicitis. Her appendix hadn’t burst, but it definitely needed to come out as soon as possible. You sent a nurse to tell Garcia up in surgery to schedule an OR by the end of the day for Jess, and just as you were about to leave and find Robby, you came face-to-face with him as you pulled the curtain back. 

“Appendicitis, OR is getting scheduled,” you said immediately but calmly. You could see the storm in his eyes, that special kind of worry he felt when it came to Jess. “Nothing burst. She’s just a little bit uncomfortable.”

Robby glanced over your head at his daughter in the bed, phone in her hand and scrolling. He gave your shoulders a little squeeze and an appreciative curl of his lips, mouthing a sincere “Thank you,” before stepping around you to sit beside Jess’s bed. 

“Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?” Robby muttered, his hand resting on her free hand and rubbing lazy circles with his thumb.

“A bit disappointed. They don’t give you the good stuff for the pain unless my appendix bursts,” the sixteen-year-old joked with a tight smile. Upon looking back at Robby’s unamused stare, she softened, playful guilt in her eyes. “Kidding. I’m fine, just want to get this over with. Feels like there's a lead ball in my stomach.”

“We’ll get you into the OR as soon as we can,” he assured.

There was a twitch in his foot, a restlessness that was betraying the sureness he was giving off to Jess. Outside this exam room was a busy ED with no attending in sight; he’d already been gone all morning in meetings, and the waiting room was packed with patients still pinging about in exam rooms awaiting beds upstairs. You could tell he knew he needed to get back out there and run the show, but he also didn’t want to make any sudden moves that would lead to him leaving Jess sitting around waiting for her surgery alone. 

“I can stay with her for a bit longer,” you spoke up in the withholding silence. “Princess will be back around to do her pre-op IV, and she’ll keep an eye on her while I’m away. I’ll page you when she’s ready to go upstairs for surgery.” 

There was only a brief flash of hesitation swimming in Robby’s eyes before he squeezed Jess’s hand and kissed her forehead, whispering against her hairline before standing up to leave the exam room. Just as he walked past, you felt his hand grasp yours, a gentle acknowledgment and a tired yet loving look for you before leaving to join the circus outside as paramedics burst through the doors with a fresh trauma waiting for care. 

You stayed with Jess until Princess walked in with the antibiotics for the IV. You felt like your tongue was tied, trying to create appropriate parting words. After Robby had left, you watched Jess become a bit more anxious; the inevitable event of an OR being ready was looming, and that knowledge seemed to put the girl on edge.

Going under the knife was no joke, even for a routine procedure, and the mind always had a way of making someone feel like they're the one in a million that won’t recover. You didn’t know Jess as well as you’d like, but she never seemed like the type to be afraid easily. She always stood tall, sure of herself, and loved to take up space happily. She would stand next to Robby sometimes, and you’d see how alike they were; even if you were just talking about appearances, it was uncanny—she could nearly match him in height, and they had the same dark hair and eyes. You could see all of the values Robby tried to instill in her for years; it was all still present, but it was overtaken by her discomfort and fear that were shrinking her right before your eyes.

You tentatively moved your hand out, hovering near hers to see if she’d take it. She barely glanced at your hand before taking it tightly, her palm clammy with anxiety. 

“We’re going to take care of you, yeah?” you said softly. “When you’re ready to go up, I’ll make sure your dad’s head is with you.” It’ll be all over soon, and then you’ll get to eat day-old hospital food in a recovery room.”

Jess closed her eyes and allowed herself to resign to a smile as the back of her head rested against the stiff pillow behind her. “Can’t wait.”

You were in the middle of signing off on some tests for a patient when Dana told you the OR was ready for Jess. You paged Robby a minute later just as they began to move Jess out of the exam room and towards the elevator. Robby gave the brief “Listen to the senior resident while I’m gone” speech to anyone who was around before stepping into the elevator.

While the surgeons scrubbed in the other room, Robby sat on the sliver of stiff mattress. He mindlessly adjusted the flimsy surgical cap on Jess’s head, tucking in nonexistent loose strands. 

“How long am I going to have to take it easy after this?” Jess muttered.

“Six weeks. Maybe a bit more, and you might end up having to sit out the rest of the season.”

“Is that the medically accurate estimation or yours?” she raised an eyebrow skeptically, the tone in her voice indicating she already had an answer in mind. 

“There’s an MD by my name, isn’t there? All of my answers are medically accurate—“

“Until proven otherwise.”

“You’re going to have a lot of healing ahead of you. You don’t need to put any unnecessary strain on yourself and risk breaking open your stitches or aggravating your body after it’s been through something like this.” Robby’s words held a subtle plea, the plea of a man who was used to arguing with his hardheaded daughter, who practically took joy in making an argument out of thin air just so she could practice making her case. 

“Yeah, but the whole season? C’mon, this isn’t even—” the words stopped short.

“We’ll talk about this afterwards. Can you live with that?”

Jess relented with a sigh and a nod. She tossed her head back on the pillow to try and relax, but Robby knew better. He could see her fingers trembling, her eyes darting, and the restlessness in her legs under the thin blanket.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, a bit rhetorically, but he pushed that notion aside. 

“A little, I guess,” Jess tried to shrug, but the motion felt ridiculous given her much more sincere body language. She let her head lazily turn away from her father and glance at the tubing of her IV before turning back to face him. Her eyes focused just above his head as she sheepishly asked, “Don’t laugh, but could you sing the song?”

Robby raises his eyebrows, surprised but not so much that he even thinks to question it any further. He nodded before moving slightly closer and putting his arm over Jess’s shoulder to keep her to his side. He cleared his throat in an attempt to delay for a moment. 

“If I go a million miles away, I'd write a letter each and every day. Because honey, nothing can ever change this love I have for you,” his voice came out in a near whisper just shy of an actual tune, as if he was afraid of anyone hearing him except for Jess.

“Make me weep, and you can make me cry. See me coming and you can pass me by, but honey, nothing, nothing can ever change this love I have for you.”

Jess let her neck rest and dropped her head fully down on her father’s chest. The rumble of his softly spoken tune vibrating against her ear and making her feel like she was six years old again, being comforted under the glow of a nightlight in a dark bedroom.

“You're the apple of my eye, you're cherry pie. Your cake and ice cream. Your sugar and spice, and everything nice. You're the girl of my dreams.”

The door to the room opened, but the sound seemed to fade into the background as Garcia stepped inside to tell them the OR and surgeons were ready. The scuff of her shoes stopped rigidly; she felt like her back was glued to the door and her words were caught in her throat. Her surgical mask was thankfully still pulled up so it covered the expressions she was glad to keep hidden.

“But if you wanted to leave me and roam. When you got back, I'd just say, welcome home, because honey, nothing, nothing, nothing can ever change this love I have for you.” The lasting lyrics felt final, Robby’s voice as quiet as a passing breeze. He felt his daughter’s shoulders release obvious tension; he even suspected her jaw stopped clenching. 

Garcia cleared her throat. “Ready?”

Sixty minutes. Routinely performed, and a clean scar on Jess’s abdomen is proof. Garcia let out a long groan as she scrubbed out because even though Robby stayed in the viewing gallery the entire time, she could feel his eyes on her and the team like a sniper laser after every incision and every pull of thread afterwards. It was a relief to not feel like she was burning up under a protective paternal microscope anymore. 

You waited outside the recovery room, your pager on your hip staying silent—for now. You shuffled your feet around awkwardly until the door opened and Robby slinked out through the small sliver he opened for himself. “She’s still pretty out of it. She’ll probably nod off in a few minutes,” he said as he carefully closed the door.

“Everything went well then?” you opted to confirm.

“Everything went great,” he nodded. Robby glanced around at the still scene of the surgical ward before speaking again. “Thank you so much for everything you did today. You’ve been amazing, more than I could ask for.” 

You felt taken aback but definitely not unappreciative. A warmth spread to your cheeks, and you smiled without truly meaning to move the muscles. “You don’t need to thank me. I was happy to help.” 

Robby looked at you as his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. You could practically see the cogs turning, the creases around his eyes telling you that he was most likely overthinking.

“I love you so much.” The words were quiet, intimate, and powerful as they left his lips. “I mean it. You were everything today. Jess said you made her feel safe when I wasn’t there. I can’t explain how much that fucking means to me. She’s grateful, and I’m grateful.” 

“Grateful enough to rub my back after this shift is over?” you teased, but the slight tremble in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled softly.

You swallowed thickly, “I love you too. Jess is so special to you, and I hope she knows how special she is to me too. You two are a family, and I don’t ever want to intrude on that or force myself into the dynamic you and she have, but I do really love you, and I hope one day I can find my place within that dynamic.” You never thought it would feel so scary and suffocating to wear your heart on your sleeve like that, but the lump forming in your throat showed you otherwise.

“You never have to force your way into anything. You’re always welcome. If you’d have us, that is.”

“Of course I would.”

Everything felt settled like dust after a crash. Robby’s eyes softened in a gaze, a gaze he reserved only for you and one you were only used to seeing in the amber light of a dim bedroom and not here under terrible fluorescent shadows. It was a look you wished you could capture and look at forever, but your current environment was still so painfully obvious. The pitt consumed all that entered until they spit them all out for shift change.

“I should get back in there,” Robby said, glancing at the closed door behind him. “She’s still a bit hazy from the anesthetic. She kept saying she wanted to keep the appendix and put it in a jar on the mantle above the fireplace.”

“Right next to all that Indiana Jones shit you keep there beside all those Christmas cards,” you raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call my childhood collection ‘shit,’ and I’ll see you later tonight.” Robby reached out and cupped your cheek in his hand, letting the touch linger before pulling back and leaving back into the recovery room. 

The warmth on your cheek seemed to stick around even as you went into the elevator. You glanced regretfully at your watch, grimacing at the time and hitting the floor number for the ED. The fuzzy feeling of hearing Robby say, “I love you,” hopefully keeps you motivated to make it until shift change.

[oztri]

Sigh, Oscar who doesnt choke you in public but will slide a hand to grip the nape of your neck to keep you close or as a silent sign for you to stop being a little shit UHGHHH

him leaning down with a simple

"Behave."

THE WAY I KUST JHFBWICHOWNXOC I NUST GASPED OUT LOUD HEA DIN MY HANDS. IM ELABORATING ON THIS WHEN I GET HOMEEEE FUCK U!!!!!!!! GOD PLEASE!!

okay i hope u like this. i need him so badly.

oh god. okay. oh god okay… im gonna say smth probably controversial (depending on who u are) but to ME. to ME!!!! oscar i dont think is much of a brat tamer. he doesn’t really get into that side of D/s often. keyword being often. you’ve dabbled in it, definitely. a little orgasm denial here, a little overstimulation there. you’ve switched a hundred times, played with titles in bed. oscar’s down for anything at least once, if i’m honest. but he doesn’t really have a thing for taming. stay with me here.

oscar is a patient man. it takes a lot to get him riled up. to get him to the point of snapping, putting his hands on you in public. but, when he does, it lands like slap. like thunder and lightning crackling around you everywhere. his hand is heavy, like a weight to remind you of who you are. more importantly, what you are.

he’s shy, for the most part. in public, the most you’ll get is a hand on the knee under dinner tables or gently intertwined fingers while you walk somewhere. he’s not a huge pda person, preferring to keep it to a minimum and save all of his love for when the two of you are alone.

but today, you’ve tested everything you knew oscar to be.

it’s some sort of dinner event. sponsors, alcohol, fancy outfits. the whole 9-yards. you both would rather be anywhere but there, but y’know. oscar does kinda have to show face if he wants to be employed. it’s literally in the job description.

oscar was busy talking with a few people, offering polite smiles and hearty laughter when the joke skewed just the right side of comical. and boy, did he look good. fitted suit, dress shirt done up all the way with a cute little bowtie. his pants were tailored perfectly around his thighs and his watch glittered under the lights. you had no idea what he was talking about. stocks, shareholdings. who gives a shit, you thought, eyes stuck on oscar. how could you care about anything except for how good he looks?

your mouth waters as he reaches up to ruffle his hair a bit, grown long and soft, just how you like it, lithe fingers flicking a long strand from his eyes. his hands. all thin fingers and knobby knuckles. they’re always so soft, despite the calluses on his palms. he’d just trimmed his nails that morning, too. you’d been begging him to let you do it.

suddenly, the open bar is a little more appealing than before…

you saunter over, passing oscar. he glances at you, a short, subtle check-in as if to ask, “you good?” you nod back, smiling and making the motion of taking a sip with your hand. he lets you go. on your way, you’re not at all subtle about how your hand grazes his ass, giggling when he jumps. who could blame you? it was just… there!

your drink is cool in your hand. some specialty cocktail the bartenders were making for the event. it was a shade of blue you couldn’t pronounce, but it went down easy as you sat back down at your table. oscar had made his way back, too, smiling fondly at you when you pressed to side once more.

“try this,” you coo, holding the drink out. he raises an eyebrow, but takes the drink at your insistence. his face screws up, nose wrinkling.

“that is so tart,” he grouches, making you giggle. the drink is set on the fancy, white table cloth, oscar’s hand find your knee under the table. he gives it a soft squeeze, loving. fond. you reach down to hold his hand, offering the same squeeze.

the event drones on as marketing executive after social media manager after shareholder sits next to oscar, talking his ear off. you grow bored.

thinking nothing of it, you lift your hand, catching a stray curl that’s fallen into oscar’s face. he startles, eyes glancing at you. you just smile, shrugging as you pull your hand away. “sorry. looked soft,” you tell him. the wife of the man he’d been talking to just laughs.

their conversation carries on, oscar doing his best to pay attention when you’ve now got your hand on his knee. it’s innocent at first. tentative, a grounding pressure. he smiles when you first rest your hand there, covering it with his own. it’s beneath the table cloth, he’s relaxed. there’s no harm done.

his shoulders hunch immediately when your hand slides up, just the slightest. your fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, gently. his eyes go just the slightest bit wide, imperceptible to everyone but, well, you. you knew him best. better than anyone in the room. the muscle under your fingertips tenses, a slow breath leaving through oscar’s nose.

giving him a few more teasing squeezes, you release his leg, sitting up a bit. a sip of your drink, a polite smile at the couple across from you. you’re as innocent as ever. no one would be none the wiser.

oscar’s eyes dart toward you when you shift. “all good?” he mumbles, voice a bit stiff. he cracks a bit on “all”, making you grin.

“‘m fine,” you breathe out, reaching for his hand, resting under the table on his leg. he was rubbing his palms against the material of his pants. you tsked, taking his hand and bringing it to kiss his knuckles. the couple cooed at the two of you, but you saw the flicker in oscar’s eyes.

as the couple dismissed themselves, smiling and offering soft, parting pleasantries, oscar turns to look at you.

“what are you up to?” his eyebrow raises, lips parted as he waits for an answer.

“nothing, osc. just enjoying the event,” you sigh, letting your eyes trail over the room. the gaudy curtains hanging from the ceiling, the obnoxiously orange inflatable in the corner, meant for taking photos with #ad in the caption.

he opens his mouth to say something when lando comes over, clapping his hand down on oscar’s shoulder. “oscar, boy!” he cheers, squeezing through the suit jacket. “alright, mate?”

oscar nearly jumped out of his skin, hand clutched to his chest. your eyes trail over it, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“jesus christ, lan!” oscar laughs, shaking his head. “was good til you almost gave me a heart attack.”

their conversation fades in your ears, too busy tracing the lines of vein on the back of your boyfriend’s hand. imagining the way those deft fingers wrap around the neck of a trophy. how they look when he’s lifting weights. when he’s got them shoved in your—

“honey?”

you blink. once, then twice. you swallow, jaw clicking with it as your brain practically reboots itself. “sorry, did you say something?”

lando looks at you, amused, while oscar’s eyes widen, then narrow with faint recognition. he knows that look. the way your pupils are a little bit bigger, the way your lip is tucked away between your teeth. the way your eyebrows relax into this expression of want.

oscar’s voice is a little bit lower, words slowed down. “lando asked if you could check the name card next to you.”

you process the question, before you’re reaching for the small card. it’s a pretty cream color, with black calligraphy and golden embellishments. in thick ink, sure enough—“it’s got lando’s name on it,” you mutter, glancing up at the two. he smiles, easy as he sits next to you, letting go of a heavy breath.

“i tell ya, osc. these things never get any easier,” lando grumbles, leaning back in the chair. it creaks under the weight. “seven years and you’d think you’d be used to this shit by now, but no.” he waves his hands around, flapping them as he speaks.

and, of course, you take notice.

lando’s hands are like baseball gloves. he could probably palm a basketball, easy, you think. his palms are wide, fingers thick and long. completely different to oscar’s. oscar didn’t have small hands, not necessarily, but they certainly weren’t whatever bear paws lando norris was working with.

and oscar, your oscar, who knew you just as well as you knew him, caught the way your breath stuttered in your chest. he caught the way your mouth parted, just barely. your eyes followed his hands as they moved, explaining something that he’d had to cancel to be here tonight.

oscar’s hand lands on your thigh, heavy and grounding. at first, you don’t really think anything of it. really. it’s just oscar being affectionate. then, he squeezes. it isn’t hard. there’s no harshness to the way his fingers dig in, but it certainly does catch your attention.

and, oh. oh.

“lando,” you say, snapped out of whatever reverie you’d fallen into.

he quiets immediately, turning to glance at you. “mhm?”

“do you have to have custom gloves made?” his eyebrows furrow, visibly confused. he opens his mouth, trying to speak, but you cut him off. “it’s just—your hands. they’re huge. there’s no way the fit in a standard racing glove.”

you watch the flush that tinges his ears with some unbridled glee. he pinches the tip of his ear between his fingers, a clearly nervous tic. he’s flustered. oscar’s hand tightens around your thigh. you spread your legs just a bit, feeling a low, warm curl through your gut.

“i mean, they’re not that big?” lando’s voice pitches up, soft giggle leaving him. “are they? i don’t think my gloves are any different from oscar’s. are they?” he looks past you and at oscar. and, oh, the look on oscar’s face is more gratifying than flustering lando could ever be.

his jaw is set tight, biting down on his molars like it’ll keep him from doing anything crazy. his nails dig into your skin, despite how you’d clipped them earlier.

lando makes a motion with his hand, asking for oscar’s. “here. l-let’s see,” lando stutters, taking oscar’s hand. not the one that had been firmly pressed to your thigh, but his left one. they line their palms up, and there’s a very clear winner. lando’s fingers span nearly an entire knuckle past oscar’s, and his palm is wide and boxy, where oscar’s is thin and rectangular. that low curl in your gut twists.

“me next!” you say, sitting up. lando, confused, looks between the two of you before he does the same, lining your palms up. his hand practically dwarfs yours. your head spins, mouth dry. opening your mouth to say something else, you’re startled by that warm, heavy again. this time, it sits on your shoulder.

it starts there, fiddling with the strap of your dress, before it slides up, up, up, fingers tangling into your hair. he plays it off like he’s just being a loving, doting boyfriend, massaging your head a little.

for a moment, you think you’re in the clear, hand falling to your lap as lando, flustered and flushed turns to talk to someone else that has taken a seat at the table. he’s sipping his water, ears pink. pride would claw at you if not for the way oscar’s hand weighs down on the nape of your neck. it’s solid and hot. you squirm in your seat, able to feel his thumb against your heartbeat, pressing in just slightly. it makes you gasp.

“oscar—“ you start, but it’s cut off by a honeyed voice, thick and low, kissing your ear.

“behave.”

you’d crossed a line. pushed too far. you could feel it in the curl of his fingers on your tense muscle.

oscar was a patient man, a benevolent man. someone who didn’t get into jealousy and insecure feelings. he wasn’t possessive nor boastful. but that… seeing the way your eyes locked onto lando’s had been enough. seeing the way your fingers practically trembled against tan skin and ocean-wide palms? well… oscar couldn’t have that. he needed to remind you exactly who you were there with, bring you back from whatever little cloud you were on.

your breath hitches, eyelids fluttering closed, submissive under the weight of that palm.

and oscar? he knows he’ll have you exactly where he wants you when you get back to the apartment.

[goobstars]

Hallo! I've never done one of these before, but I love your writing, and I was thinking about a Jax x reader where he sleepwalks into her room by accident and falls asleep next to her. Goofiness ensues. Idk, it's silly/fluffy romantic tone.

It's really dumb but I figured it'd be cute, you don't have to do it or anything!

Thanks! <3

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃

summary : usually when you woke up, you'd be met with the boring sight of your room, but today, you were met with the view of jax asleep next to you.

tags : romance, a suggestive joke for giggles, and very silly stuffs.

note : i love when people elaborate on goofiness because then that means i don't have to take this seriously. i hope you enjoy the sillys.

if you had to choose a favourite thing to do in the circus, it would be sleeping.

not the adventures, not the 'friends you made along the way'—it was sleep.

sleep meant that you got to forget all about this place, and you didn't care if it was just for a little bit. when you were asleep, you weren't in this digital hell.

the only downside to sleep was that when you woke up, you were reminded about where you were. you were reminded with every glance you'd give around your oddly decorated room. usually, that was the first thing you'd see when you woke up.

but today was different.

you slightly moved around your bed while your eyes remained closed, and you turned your head to the side before partially opening your eyes.

instead of the sight you were used to, you were met with the view of jax.

his eyes were closed while his chest rose with every breath he took, and you paused for a moment as you blinked a few times. were you imagining his presence? why would he be in your room?

you slowly reached out a hand to poke his arm, and you shot up once you actually felt something.

your reaction seemed to wake up jax as he let out a groan, and he opened his eyes before staring at you in confusion. "what—"

you didn't give him a chance to speak as you screamed.

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED!?"

"your bed?" jax repeated as he let out a scoff, "i'm pretty sure this is my room, dollface—"

he paused for a moment before he slightly sat up, and he looked around before his eyes widened. "how did i get in here...?"

"through the door?"

his head slowly turned as he frowned at you, and he gave you a fake laugh. "very funny." you only gave him a thumbs up before flopping back down on your pillows, and you shifted so you were on your side so you could look at him. "anyways, you can cut the act, jax. why did you come in here?"

"you're very accusing, you know. what if you kidnapped me from my room and put me in here so you could cause drama?"

"you're too heavy for me to pick up."

"first you accuse me of sneaking into your room, and now you're judging me? you have a lot of nerve for someone who stole me from my room." jax smirked once you rolled your eyes, and you snatched the blanket from him while he pouted at you. "you're really going to let me freeze to death?"

"i will unless you admit that you snuck into my room."

jax let out a dramatic sigh before he flopped back down on the bed, and you frowned at him while he rested beside you. if you were being honest, you wanted him out. you wanted to go back to sleep because it felt like it was early in the morning, despite time not existing here.

"listen, doll—i didn't sneak into your room."

"then how did you get here?"

"through the door." he mocked you from earlier, and you only shot him a scowl as he shrugged. "i don't know what else you want me to say, i'm telling the truth."

you narrowed your eyes, but all you saw was a genuine look in his eyes. he wasn't lying, but then how did he get in here?

"do you sleepwalk?" you bluntly questioned, and jax paused for a moment. his eyes slightly widened while his mouth went into a straight line.

that expression was your answer.

"why didn't you just say you sleepwalk?"

"because ragatha told me she found me walking around while i was asleep, but i thought she was lying to get back at me for putting a centipede in her hair."

his answer made you let out a snicker as you leaned back against your pillows, and you got comfortable while jax just stared at you in confusion. "what are you doing?"

"going back to sleep."

at your answer, he was perplexed as to why you didn't want to talk about the issue further, but he didn't say anything. he just started to get up from your bed because he assumed you would want him to leave.

but instead, he felt a hand grab his own.

he peered over his shoulder to eye the way you held his hand, and you gently tugged it before mumbling, "why don't you just stay here? your room's so far away..."

"you askin' me to sleep with you, doll?" you tightly squeezed his hand while jax let out a chuckle, "i'm just kidding...i guess i'll stay, even though you're making me lose the possibilities of getting my steps in."

you let out a tired laugh at his words, and he got back onto your bed before shifting onto his back. the blanket was tossed onto his legs, and he moved it up to his chest while he put his hands behind his head. he stared up at the ceiling before glancing at you, and he noted how your eyes were already closed.

he slowly shifted onto his side while resting his head against his arm, and the other one moved to fidget with the blanket as he eyed you.

were you already asleep?

by your quiet breaths, he assumed so.

he didn't know how he got here, and as much as he wanted to think that he sleepwalked here, it was more than likely the truth. ragatha had made comments about how she saw him roaming the hallways, but he didn't want to believe it.

why? because every time ragatha said something about him walking, it was always the same nights when he had nightmares.

the nightmares weren't constant, and after ragatha had stopped saying anything after a bit, he believed that he had gotten over the sleepwalking. yet, last night, he had a nightmare about ribbit. the name itself was one that made his stomach churned, and the nightmare didn't help that. replays of the abstraction whirred in his mind as if it were playing a movie, and he hated it.

usually, he'd wake up in his own room after the nightmares, but this time, he woke up in yours.

and for some odd reason, a while before you woke him up, the nightmare vanished like it had never even occurred. the nightmare typically continued until he woke up or was woken up, but that wasn't the case this time. the nightmare stopped midway.

was that around the time he came into your room? why did it just randomly stop?

his eyes flickered across your face, and he let out a low breath.

why did he come into your room?

he'd figure out the answer later, for all he wanted to do right now was sleep. it was his favourite thing to do in the circus.

besides being around you, of course.

[pichichuu]

Heya :3

I was wondering if I could request two things in one ask(one nsfw and one sfw)

So for the sfw I would like to ask for the saja boys (seperate) with a partner that's a menace to society as in always pulling pranks and teasing their boyfriend hehe >:3

And then the nsfw ask is like reader trying to tease the saja boys (again seperate :D) only for it to back fire and it ends up with them teasing and flustering the hell out of the reader (possibly leaving them hot and bothered for trying to tease;3)

Hopefully this isn't too long of a request (I just tried to explain my ideas to the best of my ability T3T)

ofc! the sfw answer is above the cut, so mdni under the cut please :)

this was a bit of a challenge, but i hope you enjoy!

Teasing the Saja Boys (gn!reader)

m.list

Jinu often doesn't know how to respond to your pranks. he gets scared easily, so his reflexive reactions always seem natural, but he's usually confused until someone around him realizes what's going on and starts laughing. usually this person is abby. it's really fun to make him flustered and jumpy. his reactions are always so cute. he rolls his eyes at you a lot as a joke, but still falls for your teasing every time.

Abby publicly plays pranks and teases you in response to your menace behavior. it's quite the spectacle for fans. you've even been able to organize a prank with his fans, blocking him on social media and getting your followers to pull the prank in secret. it's not like the toxic prank wars you see on youtube, but you two do mess with each other frequently. your pranks are always harmless. you guys joke more than anything though, and your inside jokes even make their way into interviews sometimes.

Baby encourages you to prank the other members of the saja boys. he's like the ultimate accomplice. he's so good at playing dumb and acting like he has no idea what's going on, even though he helped you plan the whole thing. he gets a little frustrated when you tease him, although he's usually just upset that he didn't predict your pranks.

Romance acts like a drama queen about it, which only makes you want to tease him more. he'll whine about things going wrong, but if he finds out you're the cause, he's quick to accept the situation. he usually responds to your antics with a loving gaze, much to your chagrin. he loves your pouty face when your pranks backfire, and always pulls you in for a hug when you tell him to have normal reactions, your balled fists drumming gently on his chest.

Mystery puts on an act like he's done with your antics, but his eyes are so joyful under his hair. he's a pretty quiet guy, but he loves how mischievous you can be, especially when it's just the two of you. if you're in public, he'll try to keep a composed appearance for the press and paparazzi, but if you're alone, he'll play along, poking fun at you when you stumble over your sentences or hide things from you when you're looking for them.

Jinu becomes a whiny mess when you tease him. you're his weakness, and you both realize it. you'll kiss the sensitive spot on his neck and press hickeys into his skin, hands working over his back, sides, and hips as he shivers under your touch. usually, you're able to just barely stop before he turns the tables on you, but sometimes, he snaps, pinning you under him and grinding his hips into yours, moans echoing in your mouth. you usually top him, but you love it when you break him. he takes what he wants, always taking care of his own needs first, but he always makes you finish too. he thinks not making you cum first is punishment enough.

Abby doesn't let you tease him for long before he takes control. he'll whisper the filthiest things you've ever heard, breath hot on the shell of your ear, while his fingers plunge in and out of you. he'll promise to make you cum, but he'll edge you the whole time, only letting you finish if you've been good. if you try to tease him in public, he has an especially dirty mouth, holding you in front of him to hide his raging boner. his dirty talk is relentless, even if you're in conversation with others; his goal is to make you noticeably flustered. he loves watching you try to cover your tracks when people ask if you're doing alright.

Baby is the meanest of the group. he'll play along with your teasing, acting like you have control over him, before retaliating, kissing and touching you in your most sensitive spots. he uses you to get off. he usually fucks your throat, degrading you throughout, but will refuse to help you finish, believing you've dug your own grave. if you decide to touch yourself, he'll watch, lazily stroking his half-hard dick. sometimes, he'll record you. it may not seem like it, but he loves when you tease him.

Romance is a sucker for your teasing, much like jinu. it takes a lot for him to break and take what he wants; he's always been fond of slow sex, no matter whether teasing is involved or not. but, without fail, you can make him snap if you set a teasing pace with your hips or tongue. nothing drives him crazier than being inside of you and moving at such a slow pace. if you aren't cockwarming him, he at least wants constant movement or a consistent pace. he'll grab onto your hips or the sides of your head, gently bucking into you. he'll beg for you to stop teasing and go faster even after he's taken control, mind too clouded with pleasure to realize it's pointless to ask now.

Mystery will keep his hands off of you as you tease him, hands and mouth roaming wherever you like, he'll get fed up if you get close to cumming by grinding on him, pushing you off right before you finish. he'll sit back, undoing his own belt and stroking himself instead, long fingers wrapped around his shaft and setting a brutal pace. he'll make you touch yourself too, so he can watch, but he doesn't really care whether you can make yourself finish or not, but he'll put up an act like he wants to help you. after he finishes, he'll lean down and plant a kiss right on your slit, giving you a kitten lick before leaving the room, leaving you hot and bothered.

m.list

Taglist: @lamogliedizayne

[maximoffwitch]

shoot your shot | e. prentiss

summary: you enlist tara to teach you how to shoot a gun, not thinking your girlfriend would ever find out. but of course, she does.

word count: 2.4k

tags: guns, suggestive at the end, protective (and lowkey possessive) emily, also smug emily lol

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

You fired off three shots, flinching at the recoil of the Glock in your hand. As you lowered the weapon, you sighed, frustration and disappointment practically radiating off of you. Out of the three shots you’d fired, only one of them had actually hit the paper target—the hole in the bottom corner taunting you. 

“How do you guys shoot these things and actually hit what you want to hit?” You groaned, clicking on the safety before pulling the earmuffs off your head so they hung around your neck. 

“Practice,” Tara chuckled, also removing her ear protection. “Lots of practice.”

“Great,” you huffed. 

Being a kindergarten teacher, you had absolutely no use or affection for guns, or any sort of weapon for that matter. You always made your girlfriend lock away her weapons when she entered the apartment, and, knowing your disdain, she made it a habit to never carry around you. 

Sure, you knew about Emily’s job and the potential danger in put you in, and she had told you about the horror stories of the team’s loved ones being targeted. But never in your wildest dreams did you think you would hold a gun, let alone have a need to.

It wasn’t until your apartment—the one that you shared with Emily in every way but on the lease—got broken into – the unsub clearly hoping you were there – that you decided to take it into your own hands to bolster your self-defense skills.

Emily was of course worried, nearly scared to death when she found out what had happened, and made you move to a different apartment, one in a much more suburban neighborhood, albeit further away from your work. However, despite her worry and fear, the thought of arming you with anything but a first-class alarm system never crossed her mind. 

It did cross yours though, which is how you found yourself in your current situation—firing round after round in the FBI shooting range with Tara Lewis.

You knew you could have—and probably should have—asked your girlfriend, who was a skilled markswoman, but you also knew she would have shut your idea down immediately. The thought of you being anywhere near her dangerous world of violence and heinous crimes, when your days were filled with shining innocence and crayons, shook Emily to the core. She didn’t want that for you, or for herself. 

Hearing Emily’s imploring refusal in your mind, you figured having her teammate, who had boastfully bragged about being a perfect shot one too many times at team dinners, teach you was a suitable next option.

“You’re getting there,” Tara encouraged with a nod and a small smile. You responded with a quiet snort and an eye roll. Teaching five-year-olds for a living, you had come to master the sugar-coated encouragement and could spot it a mile away.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I”m not,” she insisted firmly. “Here, keep the safety on but act like you’re going to shoot.”

Following her instructions, you picked up the gun and aimed it at the target. 

“Okay, first,” Tara stepped forward so she could critique your positioning better, “you want your arms slightly bent, not completely locked.”

You let your arms relax a little bit but kept them flexed in preparation for the kickback. 

“And you want a wider stance, keeping your shoulders square and knees engaged.” She used her foot to gently kick your feet out.

“There.” Tara backed up, scanning your form with an approving look. “Doesn’t that feel stronger already?”

Nodding, you had to admit that the slightest adjustments in your positioning did make you feel more comfortable. 

“Good,” she said as she moved to put her muffs back on. “Now give it another shot.” 

You rolled your eyes at her pun but complied nonetheless, putting your earmuffs over your head. However, before you could even switch off the safety—

“What the hell is going on here?”

 You froze.

Emily’s voice sliced through the air, sharper than any gunshot. You turned your head, dropping the gun on the small counter in front of you, and immediately locked eyes with Emily, who was standing just inside the doorway of the shooting range, her arms crossed and jaw clenched so tightly you could practically hear her teeth grinding.

“Em,” you started, your voice filled with an odd mixture of panic and warning. “I–”

“Don’t ‘Em’ me,” she snapped, walking briskly towards you, her boots echoing loudly against the concrete floor. “A gun? What are you thinking?”

You flinched, guilt settling in your stomach, but you didn’t back down. “I’m thinking,” you huffed, “that I need to be able to protect myself.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you were doing this?” She waved her hands, motioning to the industrial walls of the federal shooting range. 

“Because I knew you’d react like this,” you argued back, your voice quieter than hers but no less firm. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emily scoffed, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Am I supposed to be happy to find out my girlfriend is sneaking behind my back, shooting guns – with a member of my team, no less.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice, Em,” you exclaimed, running your hands through your hair. “You scoffed at the idea of me bringing pepper spray to work. 

“But I need this, okay?” Your voice quieted as you started the conversation you’d been putting off having with her for weeks. “Ever since the break in, I’ve been feeling powerless. And I know”— you cleared your throat, swallowing the knot that was beginning to form—“I know you want to protect me and can protect me, but I need to do this for myself.”

Hearing the vulnerability in your words, Emily softened, the creases on her forehead soothing themselves. “Tara–” she turned to the other agent, addressing her for the first time since storming in– “can you give us a sec?”

Tara nodded, handing her earmuffs to her unit chief. “I should get back to my files anyways.” She gave you an encouraging look before slipping out of the range, leaving you alone with your girlfriend.

A silence hung over you, and you were suddenly aware of how large and empty the room was. 

“You should’ve–” Emily started, her frustration boiling to the top, before biting her lip and taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her question was understanding this time, not as accusatory as it had been a few minutes ago, and you knew she was referring to more than just the shooting lessons with Tara. 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater. 

Emily sighed and let the hardness in her expression completely fade as she bridged the gap between you. Her hands gently cupped your face, forcing you to meet her deep brown eyes. “I’m your girlfriend,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m always going to worry about you.”  

You felt your chest tighten—anxiety and security fighting for grasps on your heart—as Emily’s thumb brushed over your cheek, her touch grounding you.

“I know,” you whispered. “I just don’t want to burden you anymore than I already do.”

“Burden?” Emily frowned, the crease between her brows reappearing as she furrowed them. “Honey, you could never burden me. You hear me?”

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes looking anywhere but hers.

“Hey, look at me,” she directed, her tone not leaving much room for argument. Unwillingly, you met her gaze, a fierce determination reflecting back at you. “You are not a burden.”

The weight of her words sank deep into your chest, easing the tension that had started to build. 

You nodded, your eyes still locked with hers so she knew you believed her. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I should’ve told you how I was feeling.”

Emily gave you a soft and understanding smile, her hands dropping to rest on your shoulders. 

“And, I’m sorry about the gun thing,” you mumbled reluctantly as you felt a flush of shame creep up your neck. “I just thought if I’d asked, you would say no.”

Biting her lip, Emily brushed a hair behind your ear. “You’re right,” she mused. “I would’ve said no.”

You waited for her to continue, trying to ignore the growing pit in your stomach.

“I hate the idea of you need to use one,” she continued softly. “The idea of you being put in a situation where this–” she motioned to the Glock still resting on the counter behind you– “is the only way for you to defend yourself terrifies me.”

“I don’t want to need one either, Em. Trust me,” you added, a small smile threatening to tug at the corner of your mouth.

“I just needed to regain control, give myself a peace of mind that I could protect myself,” you asserted, your voice finding its strength again. “I saw this as a good option, and it’s not like you guys are lacking resources around here.” You tried to inject some humor into the air, earning a fond roll of the eyes from the other woman.

Another moment passed between you where no words were spoken, but you could see the wheels inside Emily’s head turning as she observed you and contemplated her options.

“If you want to learn to shoot a gun,” she said finally, “I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes widened, blinking slowly. “You will?”

Emily hummed as she completely invaded your space, her warm body brushing against yours, and reached behind you to grab the gun. “Tara may be a good shot–” she handled the weapon with such ease, you were torn between swooning at its attractiveness and crying at the familiarity she had with the killing machine – “but I’m better.”

She punctuated her words with a wink, a wide grin appearing on her face. You could only shake your head at her cockiness, trying not to show how much it affected you—it would only inflate her ego even more.

“You’re unbelievable that’s what you are,” you muttered under your breath as you unsuccessfully hid the amused grin tugging at your lips.

“You love me,” she quipped, stepping even closer to you, leaving you no option but to turn around to face the target. As her body pressed up against yours, her bergamot, citrus perfume invading your senses, she placed the gun in your hands.

“First lesson,” Emily murmured, her breath tickling your ear as her hands slid over yours, adjusting your grip and flipping off the safety with a careful but confident touch. “Don’t fight the recoil. Let your body move with it and absorb it. You’ll feel steadier.”

You swallowed hard, doing your best to focus on the feeling of cool metal against your fingertips instead of the heat of Emily’s against your back. “You know you’re quite distracting,” you mumbled, your body betraying you as you leant into her touch.

Emily gently moved you back into an upright stance and chuckled lowly, the sound causing your stomach to flutter. “Am I distracting you, or are you just looking for an excuse in case you miss the target again?” 

Scoffing, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re distracting,” you deadpanned. 

Emily’s smirk deepened as she pressed a ghost of a kiss to the shell of your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “You ready to give it a shot?”

You nodded, as a warmth flooded your entire body, and you momentarily closed your eyes, letting the distraction of your girlfriend run its course. 

“Focus, sweetheart.” Emily brought you back to the task at hand as she moved her hands down to your hips, giving them a small but firm squeeze. 

With a deep breath, you pushed everything else out of your mind except for the lethal weapon in your hand and the target in front of you. 

“Still distracted?” She whispered, her lips so close that you felt the words as much as you heard them.

You fired the gun with a loud bang, mostly wanting to quiet her teasing.   

The shot rang out, echoing through the empty range. You flinched slightly at the kickback, but Emily’s hands on your hips kept you steady. Lowering the gun, you squinted at the paper. 

Bullseye.

There was a moment of silence, you too shocked to speak and Emily quietly amused. 

“A bullseye, huh?” Her voice low and warm with pride, and you could practically feel her grin against your skin. “Not bad.”

You stared at the neat hole in the center of the target, still blinking in surprise. “I can’t believe I actually hit it,” you laughed, the adrenaline catching up with you. 

“Guess you just needed the right teacher.”

“Oh,” you drawled as you clicked off the safety, dropped the gun, and turned around to face your girlfriend. “So Tara was the problem all along?” 

As soon as an inch of space separated you, Emily closed the distance, her hands still on your hips as she gently pressed you against the counter.

“Sweetheart, Tara’s good,” Emily countered with a smug smirk before her voice lowered. “But I know exactly how to handle you.”

“Do you now?” You played along, toying with the collar of her shirt. 

Emily’s smirk didn’t falter for a second as her fingers traced small patterns on the skin of your hips, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

“I do,” she said, her words dripping with confidence.

You raised a brow, trying to hide the arousal that pulsed through you. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because you just proved it, sweetheart.” Her lips now barely brush over your own.

Swallowing hard, you felt every ounce of your composure threatening to crumble under her.

“I hit the bullseye,” you purred, your eyes drifting down to Emily’s lips. “Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

“A reward?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, fingers curling in the front of her shirt, drawing her impossibly closer.

Emily’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening as she kissed the corner of your mouth, not quite giving what you desired.

“I think you’ve earned a few,” she agreed with a hum before closing the last fraction of space between your lips. 

The kiss was soft at first—teasing and gentle—but quickly deepened as Emily’s tongue swiped your bottom lip before entering your mouth. Her hands slid from your hips to cup your face, her touch setting you on fire, and you melted against her, the cold edge of gun and shooting range fading away until the only thing you felt was Emily. 

When air became a necessity, you broke apart, resting your forehead against hers. Emily’s thumb grazed over your bottom lip, which was now red and slightly swollen, her dark eyes shimmering with mischief. 

“We should get out of here,” she said. “It’s my turn to hit a bullseye.”

[garez19]

hellooo!!1 tysm <33 i also hope i never go bald… you’re highly appreciated. and ofc you can!! ;))

the remedy for lovesickness

yandere actor! x gn! makeup artist! reader. yandere themes, power imbalance, manipulation. 2.6k wc

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

he was born in a small town.

he spent the majority of his life hating it, a total waste of a land full of fussy and old people. it didn’t have enough bars to socialize, nor did it have a swimming pool for him and his friends to enjoy. it didn’t have enough area for him to let his emotions out. there weren't enough people for him to express himself. 

no, there weren’t enough experiences this small town could give him.

maybe that was the reason he became so good at his job. he didn’t have a place to express himself, yet the classroom had plenty of empty seats to think about how one must feel in certain situations. he didn’t have many reasons to get angry, but he could always watch the old man in the neighborhood going crazy over the kids making too much noise. he could read books about agony and love.

at first, he did it for laughs. the jester way of conveying the message. then it became a hobby. then— an overgrowing passion.

and, safe to say it paid off well. a pretty face with talent -with the devotion to get it right-, and of course, a little bit of luck finally helped him get out of that shithole. a pretty face and the obsession with imitation got him places, unlike what that one girl from highschool had said. 

it got him fame, thousands of people who cheered him on, lovely apartments, and numerous opportunities to try and catch a glimpse of new lives, of new roles.

still, he didn’t like the metropolis any better. a total waste of a land that’s too industrialized for his country-boy tastes, although he might have not liked to admit. it didn’t give people enough time to process their feelings, and the crowd wasn’t something he thought he could get used to. 

but he still loved his job, and he most certainly had thousands of inspirations.

except for that one role. the story of a prince and his undying adoration for his lover. the one his manager didn’t stop blabbering about. he had considered it for an hour or two. “no,” he then decided. it was a role he had never got the chance to explore. he wouldn’t know how a lovestruck guy would act and talk like. he didn’t have enough time to practice.

but his manager didn’t seem to take no as an answer.  

“you have time to practice,” she said, “it’s a good opportunity.”

guys with possessive tendencies truly sold a lot, apparently. 

the manager was too sure that it was the perfect role for him at the moment. it took a long time and effort on her end to convince him, but it was a good opportunity.

“a good opportunity…” he finally agreed. 

he had to be ready by the tenth episode. and he had nothing except books about love.

“so kais loses his mind, right? he’s now a madman telling everyone he met about leyla’s breathtaking beauty and praising her. people start making fun of him, ‘majnun’, they say, ‘madman’,”  

now, you weren’t really sure if that was in your contract. 

still, you nodded, signalling him to go on as you kept applying his makeup. either your boss was very fond of love books, or he was bored to the point where he would talk about anything. 

you loved being a makeup artist. you loved working with idols and celebrities. gossiping to your friends about them was fun. seeing them without filters or scripts was fun. most importantly, makeup was fun.

“you know the remedy for lovesickness?” he asked suddenly.

“no. could you please close your eyes? thank you. I’m going to put on some powder now.”

“if love causes sleeplessness and delirium, it’s understandable to worry that the person might lose their mind. in such cases it’s a good option to keep them fed with easy to digest foods… like soup. um, and a hot bath should help them relax.” 

“interesting...”

“yeah, and the scent of violet oil can also help too. that’s the remedy of the body.”

“could you lift your head just a little bit— perfect.”

“as for the soul, that’s kind of like a mental illness. the person should be talked to gently. at least until they calm down a bit. they can also keep themselves busy with other things. to distract themselves, you know.”

this guy didn’t know how -and when- to stop. 

it was hilarious. it was strange. but there was something truly captivating about him. so you didn’t stop him. you didn’t pretend you weren’t interested. you didn’t intervene with his drawn-out threads that felt like a needlessly long script from a soap opera. 

“duly noted.”

by the time they shot the fourth episode, he had shared a handful of stories. all revolved around one plot: love sickness with tragic endings. you didn’t think too much of the obsession with it, and honestly, you probably wouldn’t really understand even if he told you that was the only way he could learn. 

“on the wedding night kerem tries to undo the buttons of asli’s robe. but he keeps failing. and then he takes a deep breath, right? he sighs so deeply… that he quite literally bursts into flames.”

you couldn’t help but snort at the very sudden ending, “what?”

“yeah, because the buttons are enchanted. and then asli tries to save him but ends up catching fire too.”

you hummed. 

“I’m gonna need you to stay quiet or a second now,” you said. he nodded before asking, “what do you think?”

“fire as a metaphor for love is… intense.” you changed the brush. “within that, the stories you’ve shared focus on forbidden love more often than not.” 

he closed his eyes. 

“the metaphor starts making much more sense in such cases.”

you tried your best to stay professional, to not speak unless you’d been told otherwise, and to make sure you did your job properly. but he was friendly. not just with you. he was close with the whole crew, and it wasn’t something you often came across.he was easy to talk to, genuinely warm, and honestly fun to listen to.

“and, you’re ready,” you said. 

“it’s all about the unrequited -or forbidden- desire,” he mumbled.

“kais was literally a prince. and layla loved him back.” you finally replied to his ramblings.

you definitely didn’t sign up for this. it wasn’t that deep. love-turned-obsession stories often came with such characteristics, but that didn’t mean that was the case all the time.

“he was still scared he couldn’t have her.”

“I don’t know. maybe some people are just not meant to be.”

“wouldn’t that make their love sweeter?” he laughed softly.

debating on love every other day with your regularly transformed opinions while doing your job was not something you often told your friends about. but you weren’t complaining, not really.

6th episode’s shoot, and you were busy with doing someone else’s makeup. but, not a big deal, not at all. it happened in sets all the time after all. it was chaotic, unbearable. the part he hated the most. but it was fine. he had stories to tell. people who listen. or so he thought.

the new makeup artist seemed easy going too. yet, the story refused to be known. the tale wouldn’t let him reveal it. he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. he adapted quickly to most things very quickly, but he could hardly let them go. it was his little ritual: underlining passages from the books and getting excited to tell you more about it the next day.

it hadn’t even been that long. but he didn’t dare tell the newest story to anyone but you. as I said, he picked up silly habits easily. sometimes worryingly so. he even waited for you to finish your job so he could talk to you— but no. someone always had to ruin the day.

7th episode, and he didn’t seem as excited about telling a love tale. his mind was obviously on something else. the quietness was unfamiliar and almost unbelievable, but for some reason, it wasn’t bothering you. 

still, you truly wanted to ask what was going on in his head, even when you did your best to stay professional.

“do you want to work with me?” he finally spoke up. you let out a sudden “huh” as you grabbed the eyeshadow palette.

“would you like to be my personal stylist?” he asked again.

“oh, I do have a contract with the producer of the show at the moment.”  

“I’m not asking you to quit.”

a good opportunity, one that you shouldn’t even hesitate before saying yes. “it’d be more appropriate to talk about it later,” you said, a perfect way to dodge the question . he handed you a card with a phone number.

“reach out to my manager whenever you’re available.”

he sounded like a businessman, a person who hated love books and romance more than anything, like he was rude towards service people on purpose. but well, mostly likely because he was tired, at least you thought so. 

you loved your job, but it sure had drawbacks. working with people adored by everyone didn’t suddenly make you as appreciated, for instance. you were still easily replaceable. every single person in this industry was.

and a contract meant insurance, a promise, and a guarantee of employment. working for a successful actor meant promising career prospects in the long term. it meant network and experience. and there was hardly anything that could be considered as a con. an opportunity too good to pass. an opportunity too good to be true.

was it professional? not that you cared.

“it’s a good opportunity,” he agreed, “better not waste it.”

so you didn’t. 

8th episode, and he finally turned back to normal again. full of joy and positivity, wishing everyone a very good day as he passed by. full of energy and with little stories of love and adoration while you made small comments here and there.

love stories then evolved into his ramblings about his town, his annoying physics teacher and what that one girl had to say about his acting skills in highschool -he seemed very offended by it, by the way-, and questions of what your life looked like. question that almost felt like an interrogation.

questions about your routine and habits, your love life, whether you liked that one book, and a bunch of very privacy related stuff you’d rather not answer.

he was made for this job, you decided when you watched episode 10.

but that is also when you realized his obsession was a two edged sword. his devotion to playing the character accurately, to see him through the scripts, to not just act like him but becoming him— it meant danger. the character and his successor would merge into one; eventually, they would become impossible to distinguish. was it always the case? most certainly. playing the role of an angry old man, he used to storm into the street, snatching the kids’ ball while also shouting they were making too much noise. or at least, that’s what he suddenly remembered.

it didn’t always have to be the case.but here he was, calling his manager, the crew and the producer by your name. “my bad,” he’d say quickly, correcting himself, and then his eyes would wander around the room exactly three times. the makeup would take much longer than usual. the seventh time he pinpointed the eye makeup– implying you should redo the left eye, you would sigh with frustration.

it didn’t always have to be the case. but here he was, yet another prince of the metropolis, featured in magazines with his picture everywhere. interviews, questions about how he prepared for the role– but no, please give him a second as his stylist fixed his goddamn hair for the fifth time in ten minutes.

you didn’t sign up for this.

you weren’t his goddamn manager. you didn’t know you had to follow him everywhere he went, even to places he certainly didn’t need any makeup or hair styling. but emergencies could happen, he would say. 

14th episode, and it was getting harder to keep the script straight in his mind. tangled stories with the image of you and dialogues he had made up. his face would grow warm, the slow thrum of his pulse made his knees weaker. the accidental mentions of your name turned into small comments on how well you did your job. soon, they became long, winding monologues about you, the kind someone with a fevermight mutter in the middle of the night.

that was how kais felt when they called him majnun.

the magazine pages kept mentioning the scandalous news, although no one could confirm any of it for sure. the manager ran her hand through her hair, swearing under her breath as she tapped furiously on her phone. she spent her days arguing with journalists, demanding they take the stories down.

you tried your best to act oblivious. ignorance was bliss, after all. but it was hard when he acted like you two were joined at the hip. when he kept claiming how much he loved you. when he was so desperate for attention he ended up crying, ruining the makeup he asked you to redo every 15 minutes.

“do you know the remedy for lovesickness?” 

you made soup for him. told him to take hot baths, said it’d be good for his body. then you gave him books to keep his mind busy. after that, you started applying violet oil to his clothes every day. none of them truly helped. if anything, the fact that you made soup for him only made things worse.

“you should quit.” the manager finally said to you. and if you had to be honest, although the job did pay you well, being the center of attention because of a madman made you consider leaving. so all you did was nod. you didn’t try and solve it. you didn’t pretend you weren’t scared and uncomfortable. 

safe to say he didn’t take it well.

“I'm just wondering— where did you get this stupid idea?” his harsh tone didn’t match the kindness on his face. the type of kindness that held that strange, almost gentle warmth.

“I didn't sign up for this,” you said, voice louder than you intended. he blinked, as if confused, then let out a faint chuckle that almost made you shiver, “yes, yes you did,” he smiled. mouth ajar, you glanced at the manager, her lips pressed into a tight, straight line. he gave a small tilt of his head when he noticed you looking at her. the manager caught the signal and nodded once, then silently left the room.

“you did sign up for this,” he said, voice flat. “the moment you let me read those book passages out loud. when you let me ramble about my nowhere hometown, stupid stories from my high school like any of it mattered,” he looked at you, unreadable, “you knew you signed up for it the second you took the opportunity. don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“I’m quitting, then,” you murmured. you’d never seen him so serious, and the unfamiliarity made your body tense.

“yeah?” he gently smiled, “you truly believe I’ll let you walk away? just like that?” he let out a quiet, genuinely amused laugh. “do you really not see it? your career’s pretty much over.”

a contract meant insurance. protection. it also meant chains. guaranteed captivity.

“and one more thing” he muttered, rummaging through the drawer as he spoke. at last, he finally pulled out a small bottle— the violet oil. “I adore you,” he said, voice too sharp, a little too bright. “and that—“ he gave the bottle a little shake, 

“is not the cure. not even close.”

[zeropro]

Q&A Corner: Autobot Base

Wanted to try and clear some of my inbox before moving on to the next phase of the story. (long post warning)

It's gotta be Bumblebee, tho he and Wheeljack are chill. The Dinobots trust everyone inherently because they are the strongest and also a little stupid.

Jazz is like, just as cautious as Red Alert, but instead of getting anxious and paranoid he stays cool and relaxed about it. He's keeping just as close an eye on the Decepticons roaming the base as anyone, you just wouldn't know it if you didn't know Jazz. And everyone knows Jazz.

I get a lot of asks about random characters, and I cant really draw all of them, but I like the idea that Cosmos is chilling at some amusement park. Kinda like in EarthSpark, but like consensually haha. I bet he's great with kids.

They're divorced. Ratchet didn't approve of his malpractice and Pharma didnt approve of his personality.

No one will ever find out what happened between Starscream and Cryak if Starscream has any say in it. And he won't refuse a spark exam, it just gives him anxiety and he has a hard time with them. He'll do it but he might have to hold someone's hand.

I don't think it hurts to roll around in vehicle mode, but it's possible it hurts when transforming. Bumblebee can join the chronic pain gang.

Probably my fault, not my best writing if I have to be honest. The dialogue in that comic didn't quite get across what I wanted, I cringe a lot when I look back on it lmao;;; (Also yes best not to touch him or stand too close)

Well Bee is the Autobot leader and Starscream thinks himself the Decepticon leader, so it makes sense they'd work together. Prowl, Jazz, and Red Alert def notice something else going on there and are torn between wishing Bee would be just a little less trusting of the war criminal and hoping this is doing some good for Starscream.

I actually love when fics explore this. I don't think the Autobots are perfect or anything, I'm sure there is still animosity there for sure, but the leadership doesn't rely on fear to maintain power and I think the contrast wouldnt be lost on Starscream. If nothing else it puts into stark contrast just how far Megatron has fallen (heh heh).

Yeah Megatron isnt doing great after coming back online. I think the coneheads left specifically because he started taking it out on them in lieu of Starscream. I don't think anyone wants to be there anymore but it can be really hard to leave. Soundwave is still loyal, he can sense the nuance of what's going on inside Megatron and it makes it hard to turn his back on one of the most important people in his life.

I'm certainly going to try (it's a canon event!)

That would be so very cute, but it wouldn't happen haha.

Of course he misses them, but he's a big boy, he wont cry (maybe in his sleep).

They didn't know he was there. Fireflight got lost and they kinda just stumbled across Thundercracker's house while out looking for him and started bothering him.

I think we all could use a break and a nap mayhaps...

They barely know each other, like coworkers that work on different floors of the same office building.

I'm sure he knows there's a difference. Probably doesnt realize they're cats and not, idk, a bear or something. He didn't really pay attention to Earth creature taxonomy until very recently.

Sunstreaker doesnt feel bad about it because I dont think he had full intention of killing an unarmed incapacitated mech. He was more using intimidation to keep Skywarp from warping out and attacking him, he totally woulda killed him at that point, or at least tried to. Skywarp doesnt hold it against him tho, it was war, it happens, he prolly woulda killed him back if given the chance.

Skywarp also hasn't seen or spoken to Thundercracker since then. Skywarp was really really mad when Thundercracker originally defected from the Decepticons, and he doesn't really understand why Thundercracker wont talk to them. It's complicated. He also just hasn't really thought about going to see him. Keep in mind they've been with the Autobots for a little over a year, so not a very long time.

It's fun how many people were worried for Swindle. I can at least say he didn't really deserve it this time. Man's out here thriving under capitalism but Megatron needs his combiners.

Soundwave is of average size, Megatron is just huge! Soundwave and Starscream are the same size.

They didn't lose Soundwave, they know where he is. They can go visit him any time. And no one has to take care of them, they're full grown adults haha. Honestly, the Autobots are used to them spying on them in their walls, they're probably just like "at least they're running around out in the open where we can see them now."

I think the only other notable one is Defensor. I don't have any plans to include Defensor.

No thanks, that's weird. :P

Stay tuned!

[letsseewherethisis-going]

Where’s The Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over To Me - Lando Norris

Author’s note: this is super heavily inspired by “The Alchemy”, by Taylor Swift. I would suggest that you listen to it while reading this. Feedback is always welcome! And requests are open, too 🫶🏻

The car ride to Silverstone felt like it was never-ending. But you had finally made it through security and you were on your way to meet Lando’s friends, who were waiting for you. You never quite nervous and you tried to be as discreet as you could as a security guard was escorting you through the crowd. You hadn’t seen his friend group in weeks - actually, you hadn’t seen or talked to Lando in weeks either.

Right before he left for the Canadian Grand Prix, you had an argument because he snapped at you once again.

Lando put his foot in his mouth often, as most people know. He often said or did things without thinking twice, and regretted it almost immediately. You had warned him a few times that he couldn’t talk to you like that and you wouldn’t allow it any more.

And that one night he still did. And you told him you were done. You two had been in no contact ever since, until…

On Saturday afternoon, Max had called you right after the end of Qualifying. You hadn’t dared reaching out to him since your last conversation with Lando, in fear that it might be misinterpreted. So him calling you was a surprise. He was the one who said it would be a good thing if you could come see Lando at Silverstone.

“What makes you think that? He hasn’t even reached out since the last time I saw him,” you said, eyes furrowed as you were holding your phone to your ear.

“You have to promise that this stays between us. He’s been really down since the break up. Believe me, I know it would make him happy if you two could talk. This can’t be the end of your relationship, I know you care too much about each other,” he said with certainty.

He also talked about how Lando had just qualified P3, and it would mean a great deal to him if you were there supporting him for his home race.

If you were honest, you had been missing him and thinking about him a lot, but you drew the line before and he crossed it knowing damn well what the consequences were. You had warned him in the past.

You gave in and sent him a text once the call with Max was over

“Hi Lando, I hope you’re alright. I know it’s late notice, but I have to spend the next week in London for work. I thought maybe I could get to London tomorrow, and we could talk”

Nervous as can be, you put your phone away for a few minutes. What if despite what Max said, Lando was still mad at you and he didn’t want to see you?

Lando had just replied when you checked your phone, saying that he would love to see you at Silverstone. Since it was short notice, you didn’t have much options and you would only get to London during in the afternoon, meaning that you weren’t sure if you could make it on time for the race.

“Please come anyway. It’s okay if you don’t get to watch the race. I’d just like to talk. I’m sorry for what I said, I truly am,”

You had sent him a text once you arrived in London on Sunday afternoon, but he never answered so you thought he was already preparing for the race.

Now there you were, finally reunited with his friends. You said hello to everyone and watched the rest of the race with them. Your heart was beating like crazy the whole time, nervousness running through your entire body

“And Lando Norris wins the British Grand Prix at Silverstone!”

Everyone around you was ecstatic. Max directly turned to you and told you to join Lando near the podium, and after a moment of hesitation, you ran all the way there - the security guard from earlier following you. You made your way through the crowd until you got near the podium, and you almost hesitantly held onto the barricade. You watched Lando getting out of his car and then saw Cisca on your left at the barricade, waiving to you with a huge smile on her lips.

“He did it!!” she exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but smile too. You got along really well with her, she always made you feel welcome in her family. When you were traveling with Lando on race weekends, she always took care of you and made sure you felt comfortable and you had everything you needed. You had no idea if Lando told his parents about your breakup, but she didn’t seem upset with you and that’s all that mattered.

“Yes he did!!” you smiled as you felt your throat tightening and your eyes getting teary. Cisca turned to Adam to talk to him and you focused again on Lando, who was now hugging members of his team and being congratulated by everyone. He made his way towards Cisca with his helmet still on, and you started tearing up even more as you watched him have a moment with his mom. You knew how much his family meant to him and you could only imagine how happy they all were in that moment.

Lando got weighted, took off his helmet and mask, and went back towards his parents and the remaining members of the team. His mom pointed towards you and his face immediately lit up as he made his way to you, pulling you into a hug.

“I wanted to make you proud,” his voice cracked a little and he kissed your temple, quickly saying “I’m sorry for everything, I promise I’ll do better,” a couple tears ran down your face as you held him against you, feeling completely overwhelmed by the pride and love you felt for that man. Getting to hold him again made you feel… whole again.

Seeing him in front of you, celebrating his home win made you certain about one thing: Lando was the man that you loved, and you had never felt prouder of the man and the driver that he was. He wasn’t perfect, and his journey wasn’t the easiest one. But to you he was the best. He was resilient and brave, and he worked hard to achieve his dreams. His work ethic and his dedication were qualities that you truly admired.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll talk later. This is your moment, Lando. You won Silverstone,” you insisted as if saying it out loud would make it feel real

Lando chuckled in disbelief and put his forehead against yours, taking it all in for a moment.

His hands cupped your face softly and he put his lips on yours, as if he needed it to ground himself in the middle of the craziness around him. Nothing else mattered in that moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. You knew how much he sacrificed for his career in F1, you knew what it took for him to get to where he was in that moment.

You pulled away, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“They’re waiting for you. You should go, you Champion,”

His eyes were glassy and his lips curved into a smile. His gaze on you was soft and loving. He looked at peace and relieved, like he had been dreaming about this moment his whole life - and it finally happened.

His hand found yours and he kissed it quickly, and that’s when you remembered that you were still in the middle of a crowd and everyone had their eyes on you.

“I love you. I’ll see you later, baby,”

“I love you too,” you smiled and quickly wiped the tears off your cheeks.

Cisca looked at you tenderly and made a heart with her hands, which you directly did back to her, unable to stop smiling at that point.

That was pure happiness.

Pure love.

And the promise of a new beginning - together.

2020-2025 © letsseewherethisis-going - All rights reserved. Please do not repost, plagiarize or translate.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Hi! I love your writing style and I had this in the back of my mind for a bit and I’m hoping you would put this into words if it inspires you but imagine Lando and Daniel wanting to prank Max before a big conference by slipping a little blue pill in his redbull but max has a fall that morning and scrapes his palms, and all of it culminates into him hiding in the locker changing rooms, taunted by his friends, unable to take care of himself because of the injuries and the reader as his PR manager finds him like 20 minutes before the conference and tries to convince him to let her help him out as “professionally” as possible (like a handjob maybe?) and maybe max wants to return the favour at some point?

Blue Pills - Max Verstappen

<word count - 3137>

warnings: badly written smut, technically a drink spiking, not proof read

"Max is too calm, we have to do something big this time." Daniel said, thinking over his time in Red Bull with the Dutchman. It was no secret that Daniel and Lando got up to all sorts of trouble together, and now Max Verstappen was their next victim.

So far, they had kept their pranks relatively harmless. They had stolen Charles' phone and texted Carlos some rather... risque messages, they had replaced Nicholas' Nutella with marmite, and they had stolen Kimi's drink. He wasn't very bothered.

Most of them were funny. Well, Charles didn't find it overly funny but Carlos did, so that was at least half of their goal accomplished. For Max, they needed something that was more than just a bit of a laugh. They needed something that people would remember. 

"We could try and stick something on his back?" Lando suggested, and Daniel shook his head immediately. 

"No. We need something that will actually rattle him. It's hard to get to Max." he said, wracking his brains for something. If only there was a way to- oh, oh. Now that would be good. "I've got it," Daniel beamed, the plan formulating perfectly in his head. 

"We've got to be sneaky about it, but we can definitely pull it off. I need you to be a distraction for me, OK? Then we just let the magic happen," Daniel said, and Lando was curious to know what the Australian had up his sleeve, but he was sure that he'd find out sooner rather than later. 

"OK, sure." Lando nodded, already liking where this was going. The papaya pair planned how they were going to execute their devious plan, trying to keep their voices down so that no one would hear them. 

Meanwhile, Max was in medical. On track, he was careful and clinical beyond belief. He didn't make many mistakes. But when his two feet were firmly, or not so, planted on the ground, he was one of the clumsiest men you could find. 

He was literally just walking through the paddock, when he tripped over his own feet and fell to the tarmac. He held his hands out to break the fall, ending up with his palms getting grazed to hell on the rough surface. Thankfully, there was no one around to witness it apart from you, but he could live with that. 

Being Max's PR manager meant that you spent a lot of time with him weekend in and weekend out, so you had become accustomed to his spells of ditsiness. He should have been glad you were there, since he wouldn't have gone to medical if you hadn't forced him to. 

All they did was clean them and wrap them, but he looked like a boxer walking around with his hands wrapped. At least he could hold things and at least he could still race. He just had to look at the positives.

To add insult to injury, Max had a press conference to go to. But first, you dropped him off to the hospitality centre for him to take a second and relax before he had to go into the worst part of his weekend. Of course, he wouldn't be Max if he didn't have his trusty Red Bull in hand, so you picked an ice cold one up for him on your way. 

"You better be here when I go in or else I'm not going." he said, and you knew he was deadly serious. Max didn't give a shit, if he didn't want to go, then he wouldn't. The only reason that he ever went to any of his menial media obligations was for you. 

Your entire job was making sure he said the right thing and was where he was meant to be on time. He felt bad for giving you the amount of hassle that he did, but every driver did it to their PR manager. He knew how hard you worked, so he wasn't going to ruin it by being too much of a handful for you. 

You left him there while you went to run some quick errands, watching as Daniel and Lando approached him. Once you were gone, they waited for him to put his drink down before springing into action. "Hey Max, did I show you that video I got in Thailand? Of the waterfall in the sunset?" Lando asked, ready for everything to fall into place. 

"No, you didn't. Show me." Max said. He was intrigued.

"My phone's on charge. C'mon, I need a walk." Lando said.

"Sure," the Dutchman nodded. He had taken the bait. Lando and Max walked out of sight and left Daniel to carry out his master plan. Looking around to make sure that no one had their eyes on him, he produced two little blue pills from his pocket. 

They were embarrassing to buy, and he had to send some poor intern to get them so that he wouldn't be recognised. The last thing that he needed was people thinking that he needed viagra to get it up, because he most certainly didn't. 

Daniel wasn't actually sure how many he needed, as the pack stated various amounts for various levels of arousal. So, he opted for the one that he thought meant 'hard enough to be visible, but not so hard that it's impossible to get rid of'. 

He popped them through the top of the Red Bull can, watching the blue dissolve into the energy drink through the hole with a fizz. Just as the tablets had melted down, he heard Max and Lando's voices behind him. This was going to be amazing.

Max sat back down in his seat, holding Lando's phone in his hand as he scrolled through the videos from his trip to Thailand. With the other, he reached out and took a few sips of the Red Bull. Daniel and Lando glanced at each other, trying not to give away the fact that they were up to something. It tasted slightly off, but he didn't think much of it. 

You had gotten a fresh one from the fridge; he had seen you do it. It was probably just the heat making it taste a little weird. 

All of the drivers had been pretty on edge around them, not wanting to fall prey to their predatory pranks. Max didn't seem overly phased, though. Then again, he was used to it from having Daniel as a teammate and Lando as a long time friend. 

After talking for long enough, Max had finished the Red Bull. Daniel was stressing slightly. He was trying not to be too obvious as he looked at Max's crotch, looking for any sort of sign that the pills were actually working. 

Max, on the other hand, was trying to ignore the odd feeling of arousal that he was currently experiencing. For some reason, he was suddenly horny. Glancing down, he saw the slight bulge that was already forming in his jeans .

There wasn't even anything around him that he would find even remotely arousing, and now he was getting a full on hard on out of nowhere? Daniel and Lando both noticed the flush in his cheeks as he fidgeted in his seat, knowing that their plan had worked. 

"Just going to the toilet," Max choked out, wanting to get out of there before the extent of his problem could be realised. He was gone before the McLaren boys could make a comment, and they were going to let him sweat for a few minutes. 

"Did you see his face? Priceless," Daniel laughed.

"That is a genius idea, I like it." Lando giggled back, standing and going to follow Max to the changing rooms. He wanted to see this for himself. 

Daniel followed, both of them walking in to find Max pacing the locker rooms with a massive tent in his jeans. "Damn, Max. Didn't know you enjoyed media day that much." Lando laughed, and Max instantly knew. He had fallen victim to the infamous papaya pranksters.

"What did you do?" he asked, unable to hide the bite in his tone. He was all for harmless pranks, but this was downright humiliating. If people found out that he had gotten an erection in the middle of the paddock, he'd never live it down. Max Verstappen, 4 time world champ and the guy who gets bricked up when he has to do an interview. 

"We didn't do anything-" Daniel started with a smirk before Max cut him off. 

"What the fuck did you two idiots do?!" Max shouted, not caring who heard. 

"We just gave you one or two of those blue things..." Lando trailed off, suddenly thinking that this joke had gone a little too far. 

"Viagra? You gave me fucking viagra?! I've got a press conference!" Max raged, now realising that is all made sense. The sudden arousal, Daniel and Lando being a bit weird all day, the strange taste of his drink. They had spiked him, and now he was hard as a rock and had no way to deal with it. There was half an hour before the press conference, and he knew that this stuff lasted a while if the problem wasn't taken care of. 

That was when another issue cropped up: he couldn't take care of it. His hands were bandaged up and, even in his state, that would not feel good at all. There was no way that he could hide it, either. He was screwed. 

"Only two." Daniel clarified, as if that would make the situation better. Looking between Max, Lando, and Max's dick, Daniel quickly sussed out that this may not have been his brightest idea to date. They'd stick to prank texts next time. Well, if there was a next time if Max didn't murder both of them right then and there. 

"Fuck off, both of you. I'm not dealing with you and this at the same time," he warned, and they took the hint and walked out with their tails between their legs. The pair stayed silent as they left, and they spotted you stood in hospitality. You were looking for Max. 

"Have you two seen Max? He hasn't run off, has he?" you joked, but the looks on their faces told you that now certainly wasn't the time for joking.

"He's in the locker rooms. He's got a small... issue." Lando said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You didn't know what they meant, so you took it upon yourself to go to the changing rooms. 

"Max? It's me. We've got to go." you called, opening the door and stepping through. 

"No, wait out there-" he started, but you were already in the room. Max was sat there, his jeans on the bench next to him while his lower half was only covered by his boxers. That was when you saw it. Max Verstappen. The man you spent every weekend with. The man that you worked closely with was sat in the locker rooms with a painfully hard dick. 

"What the hell happened to you?" you asked, trying to keep your eyes on his face rather than the obvious elephant in the room. 

"Those fuckers slipped me some viagra..." he mumbled, glad to admit that he wasn't just really horny but also embarrassed that he fell for it. 

You looked at him with sympathy, feeling bad that he was a prank victim. But, you were also thinking practically. There was no way that he could get out of this, but you wouldn't want to go out there and do a conference if you were like this either. 

"Can't you... sort it out?" you said, not wanting to be too crude. 

"Not with these," he scoffed, holding up his bandaged hands. Even if he took them off, it would still be really painful and wouldn't have the desired effect. It would probably just wind him up more.

That was when Max got an idea. It was a horrendous idea that could ruin your entire relationship, but it was an idea nonetheless. He hated the fact that he had even thought of this, let alone that he was actually going to ask it out loud. "Can you?" he asked. 

"Can I what?" you replied. Deep down, you knew what he was asking, but you didn't want to accept it. Even before he asked, you were contemplating your response. Something in your brain told you to do it. This was for both of your careers, so surely it would be worth it? At the end of the day, it was only Max.

The two of you were close, so what was getting him off going to do to your rapport with each other? Right, stupid question. That was going to do a lot to your relationship. It would make it so awkward, knowing that you had been intimate like that.

What excuse would you give for Max not being at the conference if you just left him to let the viagra wear off? He felt sick? His hands hurt too much? No, there wasn't time to formulate a story. "Can you sort this out? Just a handjob will do... like... just to get it over with..." he rambled, hating the words as they left his mouth.

"We never speak of this again, agreed?" you said, tentatively sitting next to him on the bench.

"Never again." he nodded, not fully believing that you were actually following through with this. "You don't even have to look," he gently said, taking the first step and pulling his erection out of his boxers.

Your eyes widened as you saw it. He was bigger than you expected, but you thought that it was probably the viagra helping him out. Precum was already beading at the tip, and you felt quite bad for him. 

"Ok... here goes..." you mumbled, spitting in your hand to create some lubrication. If he was being honest, Max thought it was one of the hottest things that he had ever seen. It was the first lick of genuine arousal that he had had all day, and he wasn't complaining.

You were unsure of whether you should look or if you could cancel out the awkwardness by looking away. But you found yourself looking as you gently took ahold of his hardened length. Max shuddered at the contact, and both of you knew that this wasn't going to take long. It was better that way. 

You rubbed your thumb over his tip, smearing precum over it while Max had to bite back a moan. If people heard from outside, they would be straight in and the two of you would never live that down. 

You started off slow, your hand moving up and down his shaft. You were trying to remove yourself from the situation, but you couldn't help but look at his face as his head was tipped back against the wall with his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip firmly caught between his teeth. 

He looked damn handsome like this. Max's face was flushed with desire and his hair was perfectly ruffled from running his hands through it a few too many times. He was trying to keep quiet, but the whines he was letting out made heat pool between your legs. 

Picking up the pace, you pumped his dick faster, wanting to find the sweet spot of how fast he wanted you to go. "Fuck... just like that..." he mumbled, his breath stuttering as he let the pleasure consume him. He had to stop himself from bucking his hips up into the contact, revelling in the fact that he was finally relieving some of the pressure. 

As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, you were thoroughly enjoying this. There was a strange part of you that wanted to find out exactly what he liked and how he wanted you to do things. You got a better reaction out of him when you squeezed a bit harder. Just like his racing, Max didn't like things doing by halves. 

The natural reaction was for you to be just as turned on as he was. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't about pleasure, it was simply business. You were fixing the issue that had been caused by Daniel and Lando - even if the issue was jerking off a world champion driver. 

"I... I'm going to..." he trailed off, and you knew precisely what he meant. You sped up for one final time to get him there, Max's hand reaching out and gripping your thigh as if he were grounding himself as he came, spilling out onto your hand. 

You kept your movements up as he rode through the high, before he relaxed back against the wall and you stopped. Letting go, you just sat there and looked at each other. "Thank you..." he softly smiled, glad that you had saved him from definite embarrassment.

"That was... well I'm not going to lie to you and say that you weren't amazing," he chuckled and squeezed your thigh. He noticed how you were clenching your thighs together as if you were also craving some sort of friction. 

Before he could comment, you stood and went to get tissues. You passed him a few, and you went to the sink to wash your hands. You were washing your hands of Max's cum, which was something that you never thought you'd ever do. 

"Ha, thanks." you quietly laughed as you dried them off. Max was cleaning himself up, glad that Daniel and Lando hadn't given him any more pills than they had. One hand job was enough. "Come on, we've got to go."  you said, trying to distract from what the two of you had just done. 

"You'll have to let me return the favour one day, yeah?" he said, and he was being sincere. Max was all for fairness, and he wasn't just going to let this happen without you getting your fair share. He saw how much you wanted it, and he could see the faint hints of arousal still lingering in your eyes. 

"We're never discussing this again," you rushed, walking out of the locker room swiftly in front of him. He knew you wanted it just like he did, and he could feel himself stirring naturally this time. Now wasn't the time, though. 

As the two of you walked through hospitality and towards where the conference was taking place, Daniel and Lando watched on from afar. Max didn't have an erection anymore, and you looked flustered. Their minds were running at a thousand miles a minute, and it was like both of them connected the dots at the same time.

If looks could kill, the two of them would be dead as Max glared at them. They'd have to let sleeping dogs lie. For now. 

A/N - I loved writing this I can't even lie to you, this is one of my favourite requests that I have ever gotten! The smut is awful, I know it is 😂 Leave anymore requests in my inbox!

|masterlist|

[mrsfancyferrari]

i’m going to kill for you i’m in love

I WAS LITERALLY LISTENING TO CHURCH WHILE I WAS AT WORK

Tell Me Your Confessions

Summary: You go on vacation with Max, who is one of your closest friends as well as with his other friends, one which just happens to make you feel like you have a high school crush.

Song: Church · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 3.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

The humid Ibizan air embraced you the moment you stepped off the private jet, a soft, warm blanket after the crisp chill of the air-conditioned cabin.

The sun, a flamboyant artist, was already painting the sky in streaky oranges and pinks, hinting at the vibrant night to come. You took a deep breath, the scent of salt and unfamiliar flora filling your lungs, a welcome change from the industrial hum of the city you’d left behind.

“There she is! Finally, my favourite distraction from these hooligans,” Max Verstappen’s voice boomed, cutting through the general chatter of the small group already waiting by the tarmac.

He enveloped you in one of his signature bear hugs, lifting you clean off your feet before setting you down with a grin.

“Max, put me down! And 'hoooligans'?” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully. You scanned the faces around him – a few familiar engineers, some mutual friends from the racing world, and then… him.

He was standing a little to Max’s left, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his linen trousers, a crisp white shirt clinging just so to his frame. His hair, usually styled in a precise way for press conferences, was messily wind-swept, and the golden hour sun caught in his eyes, turning them into pools of warm hazel.

Charles Leclerc. Even from a distance, the sheer magnetic pull was undeniable. Your stomach did a nervous flip that had nothing to do with the journey.

He caught your gaze. For a fleeting second, his lips curved into a small, polite smile, and you felt your cheeks flush instantly. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a frantic bird.

You, a champion in the art of social awkwardness, immediately panicked. Your eyes darted away, landing on a non-existent speck on Max’s shoulder.

You shuffled your feet, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but under the direct, albeit brief, scrutiny of those warm eyes.

“Charles, this is my good friend, Y/N,” Max was saying, oblivious to your internal meltdown. You forced your head back up, pasting on what you hoped was a casual, friendly smile, but it felt more like a rictus.

Charles took a step forward, extending a hand. His grip was firm, warm, and sent a jolt of static through you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Max talks about you a lot.”

His voice was a smooth, melodic hum, carrying the faint lilt of his Monegasque accent. It was even more charming in person than on TV.

Oh God, he’s even hotter up close. And he sounds like that. And Max talks about me? What did he say? Probably how much of a nerd I am. Your mind raced, a thousand anxieties flaring up at once. Your shyness, typically a manageable hum, had suddenly decided to scream into a megaphone.

“You too,” you mumbled, snatching your hand back a little too quickly. You felt a blush creep up your neck, hot and mortifying. You immediately regretted it. He probably thought you found his touch repulsive.

You were pretty sure you saw a flicker of something – surprise? – in his eyes before he simply nodded politely and turned back to Max, who was already regaling the group with an anecdote about a recent race.

You spent the short car ride to the villa staring out the window, occasionally catching Charles’s reflection in the tinted glass. He was laughing at something, his head thrown back, a genuine, uninhibited sound that somehow tugged at something deep inside you.

You wanted to be part of that laughter, to share in the easy camaraderie everyone else seemed to possess around him. But the sheer weight of your own self-consciousness pressed down on you, pinning you firmly in your seat.

The villa itself was a sprawling, pristine white structure perched on a cliff overlooking the turquoise Mediterranean. Infinity pools shimmered, bougainvillea cascaded, and the air hummed with the promise of carefree days.

For everyone else, maybe. For you, it felt like a minefield of social interactions you were ill-equipped to navigate.

Over the next few days, your avoidance of Charles became an art form.

At breakfast, you’d strategically choose a seat at the far end of the long outdoor table, usually next to Max or another friend. If Charles happened to sit near you, your fork would inexplicably become fascinating, or you’d suddenly develop an intense interest in the patterns on the ceramic tiles.

You’d offer monosyllabic answers if he ever addressed you directly, your gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

One afternoon, you were floating lazily in the pool, enjoying the cool water against your skin, when you heard Charles’s voice getting closer.

You peeked from under your sunglasses to see him emerging from the villa, heading straight for the pool with a towel slung over his shoulder. Your heart did its usual frantic jig.

Before he even had a chance to dip a toe in, you were making a hasty retreat to the steps.

“Oh, leaving already, Y/N?” he called out, his voice tinged with mild surprise.

“Uh, yeah! Just… gotta… get my book. Sun’s getting a bit much,” you stammered, scrambling out of the water with an agility that would have impressed an Olympic swimmer.

You practically sprinted inside, leaving him standing by the poolside, a faint frown marring his brow. You could feel your face burning, not from the sun, but from the sheer mortification of your own awkwardness.

Later that evening, during an impromptu game of charades, you found yourself on the same team as Charles. It was meant to be fun, informal. But every time it was his turn, you’d find an urgent need to check your phone or refill your drink.

When it was your turn, and he guessed correctly, offering a genuine compliment on your acting, you just mumbled a thank you and looked down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze. You were aware of his polite, if slightly confused, smile fading.

You’d practically shut him down. Again.

You could see the internal narrative forming in his mind, clear as day: She doesn't like me. She actively avoids me. Maybe she finds me annoying. Or worse, repulsive.

This thought twisted your stomach into knots. You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to laugh with him, to hear about his day, to see that charming smile directed at you.

But the words just wouldn’t form, and your body seemed to have a mind of its own, propelling you away from the very person you were drawn to.

Max, of course, noticed. Your best friend had known you for years, had seen your shyness in action. But this was an extreme version, even for you.

“You’re being weird,” he stated one morning, catching you alone on the veranda, staring out at the sea.

You jumped, startled. “What do you mean, ‘weird’?”

“You know what I mean. Every time Charles comes within a ten-foot radius, you perform an Olympic-level disappearing act. What’s up with that? He’s a good guy, you know.”

Your cheeks flared. “I’m not! I’m just… enjoying the scenery. And anyway, I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Bother anyone? Y/N, everyone here is incredibly laid back. And Charles? He’s actually tried to talk to you a few times. He’s starting to think you hate him.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. “He thinks… I hate him?” Your voice was barely a whisper. The guilt was immense, a heavy stone in your chest.

“Yeah, well, what else is he supposed to think? You won’t look him in the eye, you practically run away if he gets too close, you barely talk. It’s not exactly a ‘I adore you’ vibe you’re putting out there, is it?” Max said, surprisingly gentle despite the bluntness of his words.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling small and pathetic. “I don’t hate him, Max. God, no. It’s just… I’m just really shy. And he’s… he’s Charles Leclerc. And he’s really, really nice. And hot. And I get all flustered, and my brain just shuts down, and before I know it, I’m running away like a complete idiot.” The words tumbled out, a confession you’d been holding in for days.

Max stared at you for a long moment, then burst out laughing. Not a mean laugh, but one of exasperated affection.

“You’re telling me you’ve been avoiding the hottest guy on the planet because you think he’s hot? You, Y/N, are truly unique.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “Right. This is ridiculous. You need to talk to him.”

“No! I can’t! What would I even say? ‘Sorry I’ve been acting like a complete lunatic, but you’re just too attractive for my fragile psyche’?” You buried your face in your hands.

“Something like that, yeah, but maybe less dramatic. Look, he’s probably chilling by the pool now, like usual. Just go. Say something. Anything. Apologize for being quiet. Tell him you get shy. Just clear the air.” Max gave you a firm pat on the back, the kind that meant now.

Your heart was still doing its frantic flamenco, but a new resolve began to bubble up. The thought of Charles genuinely believing you disliked him – the thought that you might be ruining any chance of getting to know him simply because of your own irrational fear – was enough to override the paralyzing shyness, if only for a moment. You took a shaky breath.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

You found him by the edge of the infinity pool, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea. The sun was dipping lower, casting a golden glow on his profile. He looked thoughtful, perhaps a little melancholic.

Your stomach did another nervous flip, but this time, you forced yourself to take a step forward. Then another.

“Charles?” Your voice came out as a small, reedy squeak.

He turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He probably hadn’t expected you to approach him. He offered a polite, somewhat distant smile. “Y/N. Everything alright?”

His politeness, the slight distance in his tone, confirmed Max’s words. He really did think you didn’t like him. That realization gave you a strange surge of courage.

You walked closer, stopping a few feet from him, your hands clasped together in front of you. “Yes, everything’s fine. I actually… I wanted to talk to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a question in his eyes. He didn’t look annoyed, just… curious. And still a little guarded.

“I… I wanted to apologize,” you began, the words tumbling out in a rush, your cheeks burning. “For how I’ve been acting. I know I’ve been really quiet, and probably seem like I’m avoiding you, and you probably think I don’t like you or something, but that’s not it at all. It’s… it’s just me. I’m really, really shy.”

You paused, taking a breath, suddenly feeling a little light-headed. “Especially around new people. And when I think they’re… when I get nervous.”

You risked a glance at him. His expression had shifted from politeness to genuine surprise, then to something that looked like dawning understanding, and finally, a hint of amusement.

He actually chuckled, a soft, warm sound that made your heart flutter. “Shy? I thought… I thought you really disliked me, Y/N. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I kept trying to talk to you, but you kept running away.”

You felt a fresh wave of mortification, but also immense relief. “I know! I’m so sorry. My brain just freezes, and my flight instinct kicks in. It’s so stupid. I’m actually having a really great time here, and I think you’re… I think you’re really nice. And funny. And I wanted to talk to you, I just couldn’t. My brain wouldn’t let me.” The last part came out in a breathless rush.

He stepped closer, his gaze softening. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off him. “So, you’re not trying to escape a conversation with me right now?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You managed a small, wobbly smile. “No. No, I’m not. I’m trying very hard not tobolt.”

He laughed then, a proper, full-bodied laugh that was even more charming than you’d imagined. The sound washed over you, easing the tension in your shoulders. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. I was starting to think I had some kind of repellent aura for you.”

“Never,” you blurted out, then immediately wanted to crawl into the pool and drown.

But he was looking at you, a genuine smile now adorning his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time.

“So, what is it about me that makes you so nervous?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle, almost curious.

You swallowed, your gaze darting to his lips, then back to his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to say you’re impossibly hot and charming and my brain can’t handle it.

“Just… everything, I guess,” you managed, feeling your cheeks flame again.

He simply nodded, as if that was the most natural answer in the world. He then took another step closer, extending a hand towards you. Not for a handshake this time, but as an invitation. “Well, perhaps now that the air is clear, we can try again?”

You looked at his outstretched hand, then back at his warm, hopeful gaze. This was it. This was the moment.

And for the first time since you’d arrived in Ibiza, your shyness didn’t paralyze you. Instead, it whispered, take the chance.

You slowly reached out, your fingers brushing his. His touch was electric, sending warmth blooming through your hand, up your arm, and settling in your chest.

You didn’t pull away this time. Instead, your fingers linked, a silent pact.

“I’d like that, Charles,” you said, your voice still a little soft, but steady. A genuine smile, one that reached your eyes, finally graced your lips.

He returned your smile, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “Great. Tell me, Y/N, what was the book you were so desperate to read by the pool the other day?”

And as the Ibizan sunset painted the sky in magnificent hues, you found yourself, for the first time, not running away, but leaning in, ready to finally share a moment with Charles Leclerc, the man you definitely, absolutely did not hate.

In fact, you were pretty sure you were falling a little bit in love. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling something too.

The vacation was far from over, and the real fun, you realized, was just beginning. . . .

Over the next few days, the shift in your dynamic was palpable, not just to you, but to everyone around. Max, especially, noticed.

You were no longer performing disappearing acts. Instead, you found yourself gravitating towards Charles, and he towards you. Breakfasts became a shared affair, quiet moments by the pool turned into long conversations, and evening gatherings found you often by his side.

Your shyness didn't vanish entirely – there were still moments when your brain would stutter, and your cheeks would colour, especially if he caught your eye with that particular, intense gaze – but the paralyzing fear was gone.

In its place was a burgeoning confidence, fueled by his patient understanding and genuine interest.

One afternoon, you were sitting on a sun lounger, a new book open on your lap, but your eyes were fixed on Charles. He was out in the sea, swimming with a powerful, graceful stroke, the water glistening on his skin as he emerged, shaking his head to clear his eyes.

He looked up, caught your gaze, and offered a casual, devastating smile, before splashing back into the inviting blue.

“See? I told you,” Max’s voice cut through your reverie. He had appeared silently, dropping into the sun lounger beside you with a thud.

You jumped, clutching your book. “Max! Don’t do that!”

He merely chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “Don’t do what? Observe the obvious? You’re practically radiating heart-eyes every time he’s in your vicinity. And he’s definitely got them for you too.”

Your cheeks flushed, but this time, you didn't deny it with a frantic excuse. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m not. Remember a week ago, when you were practically hiding behind the potted palms to avoid him? Now you’re openly staring at him from seven different angles. It’s progress, Y/N. Beautiful, romantic progress.”

He nudged you gently with his elbow. “So, are you going to let him make a move, or are you going to keep admiring him like a work of art?”

“Max!” you hissed, glancing quickly towards the sea. Charles was still swimming, seemingly oblivious, but you felt exposed. “It’s complicated. What if… what if I misread it? What if he’s just being nice?”

“He’s Charles Leclerc, Y/N. He doesn’t need to ‘just be nice’ if he’s not interested. He’s clearly interested. The man lights up when you walk into a room. I’ve seen him talking to you for hours, and I’ve never seen him do that with anyone else here. Trust me, my friend, his ‘repellent aura’ has clearly turned into an undeniable magnetic field where you’re concerned.” He grinned. “Just… don’t bolt this time, okay? When he finally gets the courage to ask you out, just say yes.”

The words lingered, a pleasant warmth spreading through your chest. When he asks you out. Not if. Max’s confidence was infectious, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to truly hope.

Later that evening, after a laid-back dinner where Charles had purposefully chosen the seat next to you, the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the soft murmur of conversations.

A gentle breeze rustled the palm trees. Charles suggested a walk along the beach.

"It's beautiful out there right now," he said, his voice low, his eyes bright in the dim light of the lanterns. "The stars are incredible without the city lights."

You nodded, your heart fluttering a little bit. "I'd like that."

The beach was just as he described – pristine, soft sand underfoot, the rhythmic lull of the waves, and a sky so densely packed with stars it felt like you could reach out and pluck them.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the gentle wash of the sea and your soft footsteps.

Then, Charles stopped. You stopped too, turning to face him. His silhouette was dark against the star-dusted sky, but you could feel his gaze on you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a little softer than usual, a hint of vulnerability in it that made your breath catch. "I… I've really enjoyed getting to know you these past few days. More than I thought I would when I first saw you running away from me."

A soft chuckle escaped him, and you smiled, a genuine, unforced smile.

"I'm sorry about that," you whispered, the old self-consciousness trying to peek through, but you pushed it down.

He shook his head, taking a small step closer. "Don't be. It's… it's charming, in a way. And it's made this past week so much better, learning about the real you."

He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting second, then back to your eyes, a nervous energy radiating from him now. It was subtle, but it was there, mirroring your own.

"I was wondering," he continued, his voice a little clearer now, steadier. "Since we've clearly established that you don't hate me, and in fact, you actually seem to tolerate my presence..." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "...and since I really, really enjoy yours, I was hoping… would you, perhaps, consider going out with me? Properly. Like, a date. Tomorrow night, maybe? There's this amazing little restaurant in Ibiza Town, away from all the main buzz. Just us."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat that threatened to drown out the sound of the ocean.

This was it. Max's 'when' had become 'now'.

Every fibre of your being screamed yes. Your brain, for once, didn't freeze. It didn't try to formulate an escape route. It simply registered the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, the hopeful anticipation on his face.

A wide, genuine smile spread across your face, one that felt like it reached every cell in your body. All the shyness, all the fear of misinterpretation, all the nervousness melted away in the face of his directness, his open invitation.

"Yes," you said, the word coming out clear and strong, without a hint of a tremor. "Yes, Charles. I'd love to."

A wave of relief washed over his features, and his smile broadened, eclipsing the stars. "Really? You're not going to run?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Not this time," you assured him, stepping closer, your hand instinctively reaching out, drawn to the warmth of his. This time, there was no hesitation.

Your fingers found his, intertwining naturally, securely. "Definitely not this time."

His thumb brushed your knuckles, a familiar, comforting gesture now. Under the vast, starry sky of Ibiza, with the gentle murmur of the sea as your witness, you felt a surge of exhilarating anticipation.

The shyness hadn't completely vanished – it was part of you, after all – but it was no longer a barrier.

It was just a quiet whisper in the background, overshadowed by the loud, clear voice of your heart, ready to embark on this beautiful, terrifying, wonderful journey with Charles. . . .

[jillsandwhichs]

Sunday morning

Chapter 13 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joel wake up a bit late on a Sunday morning. However, instead of getting up and being productive, the two of you use your time for something a bit more fun - making a baby

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Engaged

WC: 2.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Fingering, You finish, Unprotected P in V, Missionary, Breeding kink, He finishes inside of you, Aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Waking up, you blinked a few times to clear your eyes up. As you did, you saw the excessive amount of sunlight pouring in through the cheap beige curtains attached to the window to the right of your bed. It was nice. Cozy. You liked it. You remember the day you and Joel bought them together, it was shortly after you put the official down payment on your guy's house. You are so happy you two got this place, it was the best purchase of your life.

Yawning, you then rolled over to your left side, now facing Joel. He is still asleep and oh, how peaceful he looks. Joel rarely looks so calm. It makes you happy. You smiled to yourself, then went from looking at his face, to his outfit. To bed, he wore a grey work t-shirt and his black & white boxers, which you think he looks great in. You smiled even harder. To sleep, you wore a thin yet tight tank top with just some panties. It gets warm at night, so.

You then set your hand upon his face, caressing his cheek lovingly. You wish you two could do this all day, all of the time. Physical touch is so beyond important to you. As you touched his face, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, hoping to wake him up. You aren't sure of the time but, it's definitely later in the morning considering the sun is at its peak and shining through the window brightly.

Right as you kissed him, you felt his lips curl into a smirk, then his hands skillfully swift behind your back, pulling you into him as his arms stayed wrapped around you. Giggling, you did the same except, you swathed your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss furthermore. "Mmm," you murmured out, playing with his brown hair, "Hi." You said to him, officially pulling away from the kiss and looking at him again. "Hey baby." Joel whispered to you, his voice deep and growly from still waking up.

You felt his hands rubbing your back carefully, which you love him doing. Feels so detoxing. "Sleep well?" "I always sleep well next to you sweetheart." Joel replied to you, kissing you again before pressing his forehead against yours, "You?" "Always." You smiled, your teeth flashing, which made Joel gleam again. "My beautiful girl." Joel said in a tired manner, which made you feel weak. You love how deep his voice is, especially when he first wakes up. "Mmm." You then mooched his lips lovingly.

As the two of you were kissing, you ran your fingers through his soft hair and his hands slid down your back and onto your butt, where he softly stroked it and at one point, squeezed it whilst pulling you against his body. Once the making out died down for a moment, you asked him to check his watch, being curious on the time. "It is," he glanced down at his watch before speaking, "10:30." "Should we get up? We never lay in bed so late..." "You're right but," he then got on top of you, pinning you beneath him, "It's Sunday, we ain't got much to do baby," He had a cocky smirk appear on his face before he then brought his head to the crook of your neck.

"Ha," you laughed, then quickly moaned as he began to suckle on your neck. "Oh." You said softly, moving your head to the side, giving him more space to kiss along your throat. As he left hickies along your neck, you laid there, hands on his biceps and your legs spread open, having him lay between them as he was on top of your body. "Joel..." You sighed out softly as he switched to the right side of your neck, now covering that part in love bites. "Feel good?" "Yes." You responded, biting your lower lip.

It always feels good, anything Joel does to you feels fantastic.

Whilst he was on top of you, he brought his hand down to your panties and kissed your forehead. "God I need you," he whispered against your head before slipping his hand into them, running his finger through your wet folds. "Feels like you need me even more though, hmm baby?" The way he said it, ugh, you're all his. You nodded and played with his facial hair, "I do." "I know, I'm goin' give you what you want."

Suddenly, he pushed two fingers inside of you. You gasped and gripped onto him harshly, not expecting it. "Oh fuck." You bit your lower lip. Whenever Joel fingers you, it's intense. It's a lot. He doesn't ease up and you love it. "Shh baby, just let yourself feel, feel it real nice." He began to shove his fingers in and out of you. As he did that, all you could do was gaze at him with lust reminant in your eyes with your mouth gaped open, occasional noises coming out.

Joel leaned down and kissed you, his tongue entering your mouth as well, sliding against yours as his fingers worked their magic. You held onto his biceps, practically digging into them with your nails, hell, maybe even drawing some blood but you didn't check. "You're so tight baby, fuck." He grunted into your mouth, his fingers picking up in their pace and hardness in which they moved into you at. "Uh-huh, fuck, right there." You panted out to him.

"Is that where it feels good? Huh?" He curled his fingers within your clenched walls with each thrust of his digits. "Yes..." Was all you managed to say. He knows what he's doing and he knows he's doing is amazingly. You spread your legs further open and tossed your head to the side, which Joel took advantage of, now suckling on your collarbone as he fingered you passionately.

Around him, you tightened yourself. Doing so made it so you could feel it more, more deep inside of you. It made your stomach so flips and your heart face the more it went on. "Oh?" Joel cooed out against your ear, kissing it sweetly, "You close?" He asked you, now moving his fingers at such a rapid pace, you couldn't really form a thought. "Uh, I-" you attempted to spit out, but you failed. He snickered real sexily against your ear before then using his other hand to turn your head to face him. "Cum for me then sweetheart."

The eye contact. It was something else. He was forcing you to look at him, his hand firmly on your jaw. You knew that if you were to even try to attempt to close your eyes, he'd stop his movements. So, you gazed right into those devilish, lustful eyes of his. "All over my fingers baby, do it." Were his final words before it happened, your inevitable, ecstasy-filled orgasm.

Your moan was loud and lethal as you came, but you sounded so angelic to Joel. He released the grip on your face as you came and instead kissed you, his kiss soft and caring. His fingers slowed down inside of you before he slowly drifted them out of you, bringing them up to his lips and licking your juices off; He always does that, you find it attractive in a way. "Oh goodness," you laughed out, "That was good."

Joel glanced down at you with fierce eyes before speaking up again, "You think that was good? Honey, I'm 'bout to make it so your ass can't walk." Joel then tore your panties off, down to your ankles and past them before he threw them on the floor. You giggled and he pulled his boxers down, his hardened length being revealed. "Mmm I'm so glad we decided to stay in bed." "I know you are." He said as he then grabbed your legs, holding each one in his arms.

"Wait, are you not going to get a condom?" "Since when we need one? You know baby-" "Joel, I-" you tried to pause him, knowing where he was going with this. He wants a baby, badly. You do too but, you're just nervous. "Darlin', I want this, you want this... Let me get my soon-to-be wife pregnant with my baby." He muttered to you, his voice so convincing. You bit your lower lip, "Such a persuasive man." You reached your hand up to run it through his facial hair. "Mkay." You whispered.

You swear you've never seen Joel's face light up so fast. He guided himself to your entrance before he entered himself into you, his erect member sliding into your sensitive & slippery hole. You let out a deep sigh as he did. It felt good. You love when you guys don't use protection however, it's rare.

With your legs propped up in his arms, all you had to do was lay there and take it. And oh, Joel's gonna give it to you.

Sliding in and out of you, the man hardly wasted time. He thrusted into you roughly, his noises hot and heavy as he did. "Gonna make you a momma, hmm? That what you want baby?" His accent was hefty and clearly audible, which turned you on even further - if it were even possible. You kept hold on his arms as he moved into you, it was the least amount of support you could seek. "Gonna get this belly all swollen and big, fuck, you'll look so pretty." His dirty talk, fuck you relish in it.

His hands gripped on your legs tightly, keeping them tracted as he moved his hips coursely. All you did was moan and watch him with intense need. You've never been so horny before, you're sure. "I needed this," you moaned out to your fiance, assuring him that you're enjoying all of this. You saw a slight smile form on his face before he drew himself to your face, kissing you passionately as he fucked you, hard.

In between kisses, he spoke. "Can't wait to get you pregnant... Can't wait to see my wife be a mommy to my child... Fuck." He's so into it, it was making you fall for the idea further. "I want your baby, just yours... Need it..." It's the idea of it - the fact your love making is so passionate and the fact you two are truly ready to be parents. Plus, the idea of Joel cumming inside of you is one you practically daydream about.

"Oh baby," Joel then dropped your legs and instead lifted you up for a moment, slithering his arms to be around your back, hugging you tightly as he pumped himself into you. You hugged him back, both wrapping your arms and legs around his. He moved into you so deeply, you swear you could feel his tip in your stomach, that's how good it was. "Cum inside of me Joel... Please... I need it." Your begging was all he needed to hear.

"Jesus Christ," he said, burying his head into the crease of your neck. "You take it so well." He panted, kissing your shoulders as he fucked you so fast, until he finally came.

As Joel finished within your closed in walls, you held him close, playing with his hair and kissing the side of his head. It felt perfect, his semen leaking into you and hopefully, getting you pregnant. You don't regret it, not one bit. You felt his lips go against your collarbone, then trial up to your face where he then kissed your cheek. "That was fuckin' great." He said to you. "Yeah it was." You glimmered and unraveled your legs around him, freeing him.

He pulled away from you and looked down. The bed was a mess, your sheet was drenched and the blanket was on the floor. You laughed and closed your legs before sitting up and tilting your head at him. "Look what you do to me babe." "Mmm," he nodded and grabbed your chin, "It's what I do best." He then kissed you before pressing his forehead to yours. "We oughta get ourselves and our room cleaned up, what'dya say darlin'?" "You're right." You then tried to stand up, and ultimately failed.

You immediately sat back down on the bed once you felt how wobbly and weak your legs were. Joel took notice and snorted. "Told ya." He kissed your cheek before standing up, going towards the dresser and grabbing you out some new clothes. "Let's get you dressed baby, I'll do it all for you."

You cannot believe you'll be married to this man soon and hopefully, with his child.

[mottysith]

Hi! I was wondering if you could make a part 2 of the Itrapped x GN!Reader x Chance, I'd really like to know how they'd react to seeing each other in the forsakened realm

Pairing: Chance x Reader x Itrapped Love triangle

Warnings: Angst, violence.

I hope you liked this! I wrote this with love... maybe.

When Chance at first noticed your presence they couldn't believe their eyes, out of everyone in this world you had to be forsakened? He would be very, very tense around you, making everyone notice that something happened between you two.

Your relationship with Chance would be awkwards at first, with Chance most of the time avoiding you like a champ. Maybe they will try to help you by stunning the killer, but thats it.

But don't get me wrong, Chance doesn't want you dying or suffering. Yet for his own sake just avoid Chance just as they avoid you. After all is better and way easier that way instead of trying to solve all the unresolved tension between you two.

The slight glances he gives you everytime they encounter you around the cabin, not hate or anything like that but a nostalgic fondness of your friendship. Or how you gulp everytime Chance strays too close to you.

The other survivors would really try to get you two together, not in a romantic way, but for you two to finally bond considering the unnecesary tension you and Chance cause around the cabin everytime you two cross paths.

If you ask for forgiveness Chance would actually forgive you and move on from that, since they know you weren't exactly on your right state of mind but drugged by Itrapped. Yet they won't tell you that, is better to just ignore that little fact and fault you more than blaming Itrapped for his actions, because deep down even if the gambler doesn't want to admit it, they still miss and love Itrapped deeply.

It is possible for you two to become friends again, but sadly it wouldn't end very well, because it would ignite feelings once more on your heart once more, faling over heels for the gambler once more. Even if you don't want it this time.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When Itrapped first saw you as a little suvivor in one of his rounds, he couldn't believe his eyes, he was even more than excited, he was fascinated. How smart of the spectre, Itrapped mentally thanked him.

Your relationship with Itrapped is totally horrible, a constant game of cat and mouse, except the mouse is given in an almost silver plate to the cat.

The spectre really seemed to have Itrapped's back, by giving you habilities that are useful with everyone else except him. Making you useless everytime you are against him.

Itrapped toys with you a lot, mostly killing your oh so lovely Chance right in front of you in rounds, festing on your horrified face when your silly crush was totally murdered by him. It feels like he is in power.

Itrapped mostly leaves you for LMS just to have some more few seconds around you, yet don't think he will let you alive for much. Itrapped loves to take his time murdering you, hearing your skin tear as blood slowly start to coat both your clothing, or the sound of your bones breaking being louder than your cries.

It is just so whismisical to him to do that to you, finally having you finally in his grasp like he do desired before. His love was never totally pure or truth, in fact it was only obsession. Of Itrapped truly loved he would never do that to you, and he fully knows that. Itrapped is aware that his love for you is obsession.

Though don't let him kill you easily, or he might get bored of you and stop putting you as a priority on his kill list. a win for you I suppose.

Don't try to plead with him, is useless. Itrapped knows way to well what he is doing. Your best strategy is to just run away from him, just like you did outside of this forsakened realm.

Itrapped accidentally forces you to team up with Chance for survival, due to Itrapped mostly leaving you two for last, to have the thrill of the chase.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Everytime you three encounter each other during rounds is traumatically horrible, with there being a lot of untold history between you three, history that ends being better being untold.

The unresolved feeling revolve in the air, making it real uncomfortable and awkward between you and Chance, and a feast for the betrayer.

The other survivors outside the love triangle know that something is up, yet they are unwilling to do something about Itrapped, only concentrating on you and Chance.

And considering how tense you or Chance get when asked about it, the other survivors prefer to not indulge too much into it.

Yeah... it's better if you just go no contact with both of them and go to therapy. Though in this realm that is sadly not possible.

Notes: I did this at my school break so I hope you liked this!

[gotaksboyfie]

haiihii ! i love your hc and oneshots a lot like..i feed and breathe off of them! i hope youre finals went well and congratulations if they did ! (i knew you had it in the bag) 🫡🫡

could i maybe request boyfriend and nsfw hc for suho since i dont think you've done that and i love him sm 💔(not more than gotak my favourite forever)

–🥩

ahn suho bf + nsfw hc's

general

gif creds: @seolinguk

» love at first sight trope personified. the second he lays eyes on you, he just knows you're the one. silently pines until the Right Moment and sweeps you off your feet

» love language is physical touch for sure. he's so cuddly. at home, he refuses to detach himself from your back. his hands are wrapped around your waist, and you two have to do a weird waddle to go anywhere until you decide to lay/sit down

» tones it down a little in public, but doesn't hide his affection for you. it doesn't come from a sense of possessiveness, but just the need to be close to you constantly

» buys you a matching pillow to nap on. if he switches it out for his so you can smell him whenever you use it, that's a secret between him and no one (sieun knows, but that's because suho blabbers about everything he does to you)

» likes it when you come over during his shifts. you come because he gets so smiley, even if it's a little hard to study with the smell of bbq everywhere. it helps get the random girls hitting on him away, and just having you there is a bonus to suho

» spoon feeds you every bite. you just have to sit there because there's an automatic feeder in front of you. he barely even waits for you to be done chewing before he's shoving in another leaf wrap

» never ever get hurt in his presence or else he's gonna go full helicopter boyfriend on you. you're never leaving his side for the next week and he'll be your personal boyguard

» teaches you how to defend yourself against others just in case too. you learn his flashy mma moves along with the easier ones. most of the time, sparring ends with you falling flat on your ass unless he takes mercy on you

» honestly acts more like a mother hen than a boyfriend. he fusses over you and scolds you constantly over your health, leaving you there like a kicked puppy because you didn't ask for a health lesson about junk food and it's negative effects :( you just want to snack in peace. of course he'll follow it up with lots and lots of kisses, telling you how he's just looking out for you

» very nervous about introducing you to his grandma. the two most important people in his life meeting—what if something goes wrong? he knows he's being irrational, but he just wants everything to go smoothly. but turns out he was just worrying for nothing, since you and his grandma got along very well bonding over suho

» absolute loverboy. he's head over heels for you. overall one of the best boyfriends in the cast honestly

nsfw

» gentle and sweet at first, but loses control fast. he can't hold back against you, leading to him thrusting into you sharply after just a couple minutes

» on the skinnier side, maybe a little bigger than 6in

» a body worshipper. he loves each and every part of you. if suho even catches wind of you not liking something about yourself, he will make you believe that you are perfect in every aspect by showering you in praise and kisses

» not a fan of degregation, but if you like it he's down. prefers to tell you how good you're being, how tight you feel, and how beautiful you look underneath him

» takes the lead . if you're not already a pillow princess, you might as well start being one with suho around. you don't have to lift a single finger, he'll take care of you regardless

» puts your pleasure above his (unless you really pissed him off). he gets off just looking at you alone, so he focuses more on you. for every orgasm he has, you'll have double by the end of it

» not super kinky but is open to it. he doesn't really care about it because he thinks that the experience is already the best it can possibly be as long as it's with you

» likes watching his cum leak out of you, but is also scared of pregnancy so he opts for a condom most of the time

fin

a/n i'm SO sorry this took forever 😭😭

[nevajjk]

Ties That Bind

A/n: Hello! Sorry for being so inactive for so so long : (((( I have a lot of ideas and many drafts so I'm hoping to finish them and be able to release them soon. Right now im doing a bunch of one-shots but hopefully soon I can do a mini series maybe????

Warnings/tags: smut, making love, rough sex, jk and reader is blindfolded, dominance (both m and f), porn with LITTLE plot, sleepy sex, kink exploring, doggy, blowjob, etc.

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

Idol!jk x reader

The rain was pouring on the apartment windows overlooking seoul. You and Jungkook were taking a nap since jungkook had a 2 day break from work.

It's been very peaceful, Jungkook has been requesting a bunch of movies to watch, you both go walk around Seoul and shop. Basically spending the whole weekend together.

And obviously getting very intimate.

Since Jungkook is an idol and is always so busy due to his schedule, you both don't have much time to have sex, or even dinner together.

Most night's your just sleeping without him and waking up to his alarm clock. You don't really complain about it often, you knew it was his dream. And you knew what you were getting yourself into with dating an idol.

So, these 2 days have been very peaceful and loving.

Something special about you and Jungkook is you both like to explore things. Sexually.

Wether it's him tying you up, or multiple positions, you guys are very open to multiple kinks. It's something special about you two.

So, Jungkook wasn't very surprised when you said you wanted him to be blindfolded.

You stir awake from your nap, hearing the rain tap the windows. You look over at Jungkook sleeping peacefully next to you.

You tap on his shoulder to wake him up. No response.

You sit up on your knee's and pout, but then a good idea comes to mind. You get up from your bed and go look in your dresser to find a blindfold.

You crawl back on the bed and pull the duvet down Jungkook's chest revealing his tattooed arm and toned chest. Your favorite sight. You kiss his chest and lick a trail up to his boob's.

He stirs awake. Finally.

Jungkook groan's a little as he tilts his head up and look's at you.

"What are you doing y/n"

"Trying something new"

"Right now?"

"Yes!'

Jungkook sits up and rest on the headboard as he nod's in approval. You crawl up closer to his face and show him the blindfold in your hand. He raises an eyebrow at you as nod.

He smirks as he lifts his head to give you access to tie the blindfold around his eyes.

Once you tie it tightly you start to kiss him and play around with his lip piercing. You make a trail of kisses down his neck to his abs and land right before his boxers. His breath hitches.

You slowly pull his boxers down sensing his already growing erection. His cock spring's free making you both gasp.

Just the thought of you even near his cock makes Jungkook close to cumming.

You gently wrap your hands around his cock as you stroke him slowly up and down. You put just his tip in your mouth and spit some saliva on it.

You put him in your mouth fully and your mouth follows the same pace going up and down.

You look up at Jungkook who is a groaning mess. His hand finds your hair and bunches it up as he guides your head on his cock.

"agh, y/n im gonna cum." He whimpers.

You don't stop, you continue the same pace while looking at him. Gosh he look's so sexy with the blindfold.

A couple seconds later he shoots thick ropes of cum into your mouth. You make sure to swallow before you crawl back up to his face and kiss him deeply. Pushing your tongue into his mouth and share your saliva with him.

Jungkook pulls away as he rips the blindfold off and pushes you to lay down on your stomach. You moan at the sudden movment.

"You didn't think i'd let you be the dominant one the whole time, right?" he whispers in your ear. You love when he get's riled up like this. He takes the blindfold and ties it around your eyes and pushes you on the bed. Your face lands in the pillow as he gives you soft kisses down your back.

Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls them up, his hands then arch your back. You slightly moan due to this.

Jungkook wastes no time and put's his hard cock into your pussy. You grip the pillow your face is in and moan. Jungkook starts thrusting into you with no mercy. You can tell he was touch deprived because he never goes this crazy so early into sex.

He suddenly pulls out and grabs another piece of fabric as he ties your hands together behind your back and pulls on it. You turn your face to the side as tears brim your eyes under the blindfold.

Jungkook grunts and his brows furrow as he enters his euhporia of being balls deep inside you.

Jungkook pulls the ties around your hands and pulls you up against his chest. He wraps his hand around your neck, not putting to much pressure on you so you can still breathe.

He pulls your blindfold off and makes you look at you both in the mirror above the dresser in front of the bed.

You see him pounding relentlessly into your dripping pussy as your hair is all messed up and your breasts bouncing. You moan at the sight.

You feel yourself about to cum, you whimper loudly giving Jungkook the signal.

Soon enough you cum on his dick, your juices dripping down as he grunts.

Jungkook lays you down gently and get's a towel to clean you up. He throws on his boxers and goes to the kitchen to get you aspirin and water.

Afterwards, He lays down against the pillow as you sprawl your legs across his as you lay your body on top of his.

He grips your ass and kisses your forehead as you both catch your breath.

You soon both fall asleep again against each other. The room dimly lit and filled with intimacy as the rain still taps against the window.

[maeshoneyles]

heartache on the dance floor / american nights vol. 1 chp. 1

“my little mystery, that girl is killin’ me”

wc: 4.5 k

a/n:  remember when i said i would post this sunday? lol that did not happen. but here it is! new series! i am so excited to write this reader, a lot of her details are inspired by myself. hope you all enjoy!!

Transfer window was always an interesting time. Everyone knew there were talks going on behind closed doors, and everyone always pretended like nothing was happening. Everyone pretended like there wasn’t a possibility everyday of everything going on it’s head.

Of course, that was exactly what happened. 

The girls were somewhere on some island in some ocean somewhere far away from Barcelona for a short weekend away before the season started up again, when a post graced all of their Instagram timelines. 

Bienvenida a Barcelona, Y/N! 

Y/N L/N. The American wondergirl that had recently led the USWNT to Olympic gold, who had played in England since she was a teenager. This past season you had spent with Chelsea was your best yet. One of the best goal scorers in the world, you commanded Chelsea’s attack all the way to a WSL title. 

It was a shock to the football world when it was announced that you would not be returning to Chelsea the following season. You cited a need to step out of your comfort zone and find new inspiration. Every top club took that as an opportunity to give their piece and try to bag the most desired free agent of the season. 

None of the girls even knew you were in negotiations with Barcelona, but there it was, in plain text. You were a culer. You would be in blaugrana, wearing the FCB crest, in just a few short weeks. 

“No way, I thought she would go to Arsenal for sure,” Patri commented. 

“I mean, we do have some holes to fill in our attack. We could use a solid winger like her,” Ona agreed, already looking forward to working with you up the sideline.  

Jana took a second and realized something, “She’s the first American to play for Barca Fem.” 

“It was only a matter of time, I suppose,” Patri hummed. 

Alexia though, was quiet. Staring at the Instagram post still open on Jana’s phone, at this girl that she was going to somehow have to train and play with everyday and not be completely distracted the entire time. She knew who you were, of course. Everyone did. But she wasn’t sure how she had gotten this far without realizing how beautiful you are. Your eyes held hers, even through the phone screen, like you were looking straight into her soul. 

“Earth to capi?” 

Alexia snapped out of her haze to Ona waving a hand in front of her face, “hm?”

Snickers and eye rolls rolled through the group. “She asked if you knew about this? Or anything about her?”

“No, um…no. I was not aware. She’s good, though,” Alexia said, trying too hard to be cool and passive. 

“Everything okay? You’re distracted” Jana prodded.

“Yeah, just, um…surprised, I guess. The club usually informs the captains before the public, that’s all.” 

“Right..”

…..

“Leave me alone. I don’t talk to traitors.”

“Nai, I just need you to come over and help me pack for 2 hours. I will order Chinese and Venmo you gas money.” 

“No.” 

“So you don’t want to see me one last time before I leave you forever? Do you hate me that much?”

“You aren’t helping your case.”

There was silence for a few beats, and then…

“I’m on my way.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked! I love you!”

You ended the call and collapsed on the floor of your apartment, the wood cold and bare underneath you, as you had just rolled up the rug that used to live on your living room floor. You forgot how much work it was to pack your entire life into boxes and move hundreds of miles away, you hadn’t done it since you were 21. Now 25, you realized you had way too much stuff. Hence why you needed Naomi to help you get it all done before the morning. 

You clocked the door opening and the familiar sound of Naomi throwing her slides off and putting her keys on the table, where the bowl used to be. It was somewhere in one of the 27 boxes you had taped up in the past 6 hours. 

“Okay, up. We have shit to do. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“You’re here because you love me and I’m leaving.”

“You’re betraying me. I should be running for the hills.”

“And yet here you are, about to pack my linen closet into a box,” I smirked as she pulled me from the ground. 

Hours passed in comfortable light conversation, you both reminiscing on your time at Chelsea and the past few seasons of being the dynamic duo that struck fear into the hearts of teams across the continent. 

The 2 hours you had promised her turned into 4, and you were now both sprawled on the floor in your empty apartment at 11 p.m. with Chinese food and plastic utensils. 

“Okay, real talk, any of the girls at Barca catch your eye?” Naomi wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Oh my god Nai, all you think about is sex! No, I haven’t. I’ve been more focused on remembering how to speak Spanish and studying game tactics they sent over, which are also all in Spanish,” you rolled your eyes.

“You’re telling me you haven’t looked through the roster photos and let your mind run a little? Come on, I know you.” 

“No, I haven’t.” 

That was a lie. You had looked through the roster photos and all of their instagrams multiple times. Although that wasn’t exactly necessary, because the one who kept catching your eye was only the most famous player in Europe. Your new captain, Alexia Putellas. 

You knew it was bad the way you stared at her Instagram, looking at every post and letting your mind run. She was your future captain. She was the Alexia Putellas. The Queen of Barcelona. Two-time Ballon D’or winner. 

In other words: out of your league and off limits. 

So you didn’t even bother bringing it up. Because it would never happen. It would remain as the quiet attraction and appreciation from afar that it was at the moment. That was it. 

But of course Naomi knew you were lying. She always did. “Okay, give it up. Which one do you have the hots for and think it’s so absurd?”

You groaned into your stir fry. 

“Wait, let me guess.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm…Patri?”

“No.”

“Bonmati?”

“No.”

“Pina?”

“No.”

“Putellas?”

Silence. 

For about 3 seconds before Naomi burst into laughter.

“You have a crush on Alexia Putellas! Oh wow, oh that’s good,” she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Can you not? It’s not funny. It’s a problem.”

“Yeah it kind of is.”

“You’re welcome to leave whenever, you know.”

“I’m joking. It’s harmless. You’ll get over it once she starts yelling at you when you screw up rondos for the third time in a row.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” 

“Just don’t make it a thing. Unless she’s also into you.”

You gave her a look, “once again, very funny.” 

She shrugged and we collapsed into familiar laughter yet again. 

…..

You were set to go right from the airport to the Barcelona training grounds for your signing photoshoot and media duties. The flight wasn’t long, only 2 hours, but you felt drained as soon as you touched down in Spain. Maybe it was leftover from the emotional release you had last night before Naomi left, sobbing in her lap and spilling how terrified you were. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t slept at all the night before, having to get everything ready for the movers that were set to arrive at 6 a.m. Regardless of the reason, you needed to put your game face on. You had a contract to sign, dammit!

Armed with the largest coffee you could find in the airport, a new pair of Oakley’s pushed up into your hair (definitely not inspired by Alexia’s new drop), and the most inconspicuous outfit you could manage, you searched the faces by the baggage claim and quickly found your name, accompanied by the Barcelona crest, on a screen being held by a man. 

“Hola,” you smiled, trying to mask how unfamiliar the words felt in your mouth. You weren’t unfamiliar with the Spanish language, no. You had taken AP Spanish in high school, even earned a 5 on the exam. You weren’t fluent by any means, but you were conversational and knew enough football terms to get by. It was one of the many factors that led you to choose Barcelona as opposed to Lyon or Wolfsburg where you weren’t aware of the language at all. That and the fact that it was Barcelona, just the best club in the world and you would be stupid to let that opportunity pass you by.

“Hola, Y/N. Mi nombre es Antoni, soy tu chofer.” 

“Encantada de conocerte.” 

“Venga conmigo,” he started to walk both of you to a sleek black car, helping you in and quickly speeding off to the training grounds that you would soon become intimately familiar with. 

…..

The drive was short and you spent most of the time staring out the window and observing the city you would now call home. It was different, of course, to home and to London. Brighter, more alive and yet calmer at the same time. Aggressively mediterranean. Warm, very warm. That was going to take some getting used to, for sure. But then again you had trained your entire childhood while taking a beating from the punishing southern sun, so maybe that part would feel a little more like home. 

You thought about home. You should call your mom when you get back to your apartment. You had texted your parents and older brother when you landed, of course, but you were itching to discuss your observations with your mom, get some of her famous advice before you really started freaking out. 

You thought about home, and you were reminded that you weren’t just another player joining the squad here at Barca. You were the first American woman to play for their first team. For some reason, it was a big deal. The media was having a field day with it. You were unsure whether that was a deliberate decision made by the club or just a coincidence that it hadn’t happened yet.

Would it affect your relationship with the girls? You were direct international rivals. The US and Spain were currently the top two ranked teams in the world. Would they not trust you? Not let you get to know them in fear of you using it against them in the World Cup or at the Olympics? Even more pressing, would you? If things stayed the way they were, you could very well meet a team stacked with your new teammates in a World Cup final in a few years time, and possibly knowing the ins and outs of all of them. 

Maybe that’s why they stayed away from Americans…no reason to invite the enemy into your home and give them ammo to kill you with. 

It didn’t matter, you decided. They offered you a contract and you accepted it and now a driver named Antoni was about to drop you off at their training grounds. 

You didn’t have too much time to dwell on your thoughts before the car stopped and you stepped out.

Pere was outside to greet you, and next to him, the four captains. Alexia included. Of course. 

“Y/N! Bienvenida! How was your flight?”

“Good, uneventful,” you smiled.

“Buena, we are happy to have you here,” Pere stuck his hand out for me to shake. You shook his hand, quick and firm, like you had learned to at a very young age at church back home, followed by the four girls standing beside him.

“Good to finally meet you, Y/N. Alexia Putellas.” 

You made intentional eye contact with Alexia as she shook my hand. Yup, her eyes were just as captivating in person as they were on her Instagram. Far more so, actually. 

“It’s my pleasure.” 

Unlike the other four, this handshake lasted about 2 seconds longer than it should of, and the eye contact that wasn’t even really necessary stretched out after the handshake had broke. 

“Inside, si?”

The group fell into stride behind Pere, Alexia directly nex to you as you followed the man inside and through a series of hallways that led to a room that had been set up for signing pictures. The owner of the club greeted you and presented you with your jersey, L/N printed across the back and 2026 large where the number should be. Barcelona had offered you a one year contract with an option for another 2 that you could choose to exercise at the end of the first year. Nothing insane, but enough for you. 

That was one of those moments. The ones that don’t feel real. The ones that make all the blood, sweat and tears worth it. It was a bit surreal, but you schooled your face and took the copious amount of photos that they needed. Hours of media and smiling and the sort had you exhausted. 

You were finally done, free for the day, or so you thought. 

“I can take you on a tour, si? Captain’s duties?” 

All of a sudden the exhaustion, the tons of boxes that needed to be unpacked, and the workout you still needed to get in that day all seemed unimportant, because you answered, “Of course!” 

Alexia took you around the grounds, pointing out trophies encased in glass and memorabilia hanging on the walls like she was a museum tour guide. 

She showed you the physios, giving you the scoop on the best ones in certain areas. Apparently, Shannon gave the best massages, but if you needed something wrapped or taped, Jamie was your guy. 

The locker room was impressive, as you expected. 

"Your locker is here, eres el número veinte, si?" 

“Si, twenty.”

“Between Vicky and Ona. Buena suerte.” Alexia laughed, and at that moment you might have done anything to hear that sound again. 

A few more hallways, lined with jerseys and murals and photos, many of which included Alexia herself, and they were on the pitch. “This is where the magia happens!” 

Actually seeing a training pitch was…a lot. It was like the emotions hit you all at once. You quickly turned away, not wanting Alexia to see how pathetic and emotional you were being.

“¿Estás bien?”

You nodded, swiping at the tears that had escaped. “Yeah, si- ugh. Estoy bien. It’s just…all hitting me right now. I can’t really believe this is happening, I guess.”

“Believe it. I’ve seen you play. It’ll be nice to be on the same team as you for a change.” 

“Says you,” you joked, having been on the receiving end of both Barcelona and Spain’s attack many times throughout your career. 

The two of you walked a lap around the pitch, talking comfortably. 

“What part of the US are you from?” 

“If I say North Carolina, would you know where that was?

Alexia laughed, and you celebrated in your head. It was quickly becoming your favorite sound. “No, no I cannot say I do,”.

“That’s okay, most people here don’t.”

You talked about surface level, but important, things. You talked about your mom and dad and younger brother, a little about life on the farm back home. She talked about her mom and sister and her life in Barcelona all these years. You talked about your time in England, first with Aston Villa and then with Chelsea. It was an easy conversation. She wasn’t demanding anything deep or hard to think about. Or maybe it was just that Alexia was easy to talk to. 

She started teaching you phrases in Catalan as well, mostly football terms or common phrases used within the team. It was natural, normal. Like you had done this thousands of times together, not like you had just met hours before. 

“Can I have your number?” she asked as she led me back to where another car was waiting to take me to my apartment. “Not in a- uh- ah, dios mio…for the, the group chat.” 

“Right,” you chuckled, amused at her panic. “I will put it in your phone?”

She nodded and all but threw her phone into your hand. You saved your name as Y/N L/N 🇺🇸 and handed her phone back. “Thank you for showing me around, Alexia. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, capitana duties, like I said.” 

“Of course. I have to get home, lots of unpacking to do.”

“Hasta luego, americana.” 

You got into the car and wondered how on Earth you were going to survive this. 

…..

Alexia stood there, grin on her face like a lovesick teenager, for too long to be considered normal after you left. 

“Déu meu, recupera't,” she mumbled to herself and she made her way to her own car to leave. My god, get yourself together.

She couldn’t help herself, and that night she busied her mind by watching every piece of film on you she could find. In hindsight, yeah, it was a little creepy, and maybe a tad obsessive, but Alexia couldn’t find it in herself to care. By the end of the night, she had a firm understanding of the way you played football. Your individual skills were characteristic of your childhood in America, but your movement and connections showed what you had learned these past 7 years in England. You were smart and you knew football, it was clear in the way you made passes and cuts that even she didn’t see at first. You would assimilate well into Barcelona’s style of play, definitely. 

Alexia was delusional enough to think that her interest in you was completely related to you as a footballer. That her curiosity was just the captain in her wanting to sniff out the person who would be joining them. That after she had an idea of what you would bring to her team, she would be satisfied, and maybe you would leave her mind. 

Of course, she was completely wrong. In fact, she was pretty sure it was worse now. 

She had wanted your chat earlier to go on for ages. She wanted to know everything about you. She wanted to know how you grew up, what coaches had taught you that fancy footwork that made world-class defenders look stupid. She wanted to know what teams you watched as a kid, which players inspired you. She wanted to know what made you decide to come to Europe as a 17-year-old instead of staying home and playing college soccer. 

Your Instagram gave her little to nothing to work with. You didn’t post much, and when you did it was football pictures, nothing personal. She scrolled all the way to the bottom, looked through your highlights, and stalking your tagged photos, and got absolutely nothing useful.

She felt like a junkie. She was racking her brain to think of people at Chelsea or Aston Villa that she knew that would maybe give her some information so that she could calm down. She almost started going on a rabbit hole down your Wikipedia page before she realized how insane she was acting. 

These thoughts she was having were dangerous. She knew that. And yet she couldn’t get you out of her head. 

“This girl is killing me” she mumbled into the darkness of her apartment. 

…..

“And she was like, laughing! And she called me “americana” when I was leaving.” 

“You might be more of a goner than I realized, y/n. You’re freaking out because she was laughing?”

“You don’t understand! It was like, perfect. Like the birds singing or some shit like that.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now. Get yourself together and call me back when you’re not comparing her laugh to bird songs. Goodnight.” 

I sighed as Naomi made good on her promise and hung up. Leave it to her to humble me, like usual. I was wallowing in self-pity for a few minutes before my phone buzzed. Then again, and again, and again. Texts pouring in, all from unsaved numbers in a groupchat named “FCB Fem ❤️💙⚽”

Oh wow. This was happening. 

Various forms of “hola!” or “bienvenida!” and one “Hallo!” which you assumed came from Caro. You took way too long deciding if you should respond with “hello” or “hola” and just ended up sending three waving emojis, which also you regretted immediately. 

The next 10 minutes were a blur, most of the girls texting you privately to introduce themselves. You got added to two smaller chats, one with every girl under 27 that was named “no fósiles” and another with the entire attacking unit, called “las botas doradas”. 

At Chelsea, you had the team chat that was mainly used for the captains to send out information from the coaching staff or reminders about certain parts of training. At Aston Villa, you were pretty sure you didn’t even have a team chat. You relied on emails. Emails. 

Neadless to say, this was a bit of an adjustment. 

All of the messages seemed to be mostly in Spanish or Catalan, with English and everyone else’s native languages sprinkled in, so that was comforting to know there wasn’t a “wrong” language to text in. 

You responded where you needed to, but one message caught your eye specifically. Kika Nazareth, after introducing herself in a private chat, sent another message: 

“Would you want to get coffe some time this week?” 

Coffee. That was the easiest answer you’d had all day. 

“Absolutamente”

…..

You and Kika met at a small coffee shop nestled in a random corner of Barcelona 3 days later. You had decided to walk there, soak up the infamous Spanish sun and get a closer look at the city you now called home. 

In the 20 minute walk to meet Kika, you were able to decide 3 things. 

One, you needed a new pair of sunglasses, immediately. Before that day, the last time you had used them was on your summer vacation the previous year. The sun here was punishing, and it was a mild day. 

Two, you needed to travel more. How had this wonderful city existed your entire life and you had never been until now? It was gorgeous, to say the least. You made a mental note to start a city bucket list when you got home. 

And three, you were more screwed with this Alexia situation than you feared. In every street corner, every Spainard walking down the street, every little artisan shop that smelled like saffron and home, you saw Alexia. She had grown up in Barcelona, you knew that much. You wondered if she had walked this street as a child, if she grew up popping into markets like these and kicking a football around the alleys and hidden corners. You were a few seconds short of face-palming in the middle of the sidewalk at how messed up she had you when you realized you had arrived. The coffee shop was cute, very aesthetic and Instagram-able, exactly the kind of place you would have expected Kika to bring you to. 

“Hola linda!” 

You smiled as Kika pulled you into a hug. You were pretty sure she radiated more warmth than the sun you had spend your whole walk cursing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her excitement to see you and return the hug. 

“How are you liking Barcelona?” she asked, genuine interest laced in her words. 

“It’s…different. In the best way,” you answered.

“That is what I like to hear,” she flashed an adorable smile, “Now, I get to interrogate you.”

“Oh no, should I be nervous?”

“Only a little bit.”

“Ask away, por favor.”

She rapid-fired questions that you could find on any list of get-to-know me questions. Basic, but effective. Kika answered every question she asked for herself, as well. You found that you were pretty similar people in most opinions. 

“Can I ask why you left London?”

“I just felt…stuck. Uninspired. I’ve been in England since I left home, and I felt like I was trapped in that version of me who came over from America when I was 17. Like everyone there only saw me as the American prodigy who didn’t know anything but farms and football, but I’m not her anymore. I don’t know if that made any sense. I just needed something more, a new challenge. New land to conquer.” 

“New leagues to win?” she smirked. “A league and two cups, if I’m not mistaken?”

“I like you,” she smiled as we clinked our paper coffee cups together. 

Kika talked about how it was moving to Barcelona after playing with Benfica, how it was difficult to leave home but that the girls made it so easy to adjust. She gave you the rundown of how training usually flowed and what to expect most days. Apparently the girls made it a point to get  coffee together after training a few times a week, and the cafe you were sitting in was one they frequented. “I’ll make sure we come here the first time you tag along, so you already know what to expect.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t just fall straight out of heaven?” 

She chuckled. A good laugh, but it didn’t compare to Alexia’s. 

“I just know what it’s like to be the new girl. I won’t lie, it’s going to be a lot at first. They can be intimidating. You’re going to feel like an intruder for a minute. But soon enough it’ll feel just like home. You’ll become family here.”

Kika was the human embodiment of sunshine, you decided. She would fit right in at home, southern hospitality and all.

The conversation was easy, but in a different way than your conversation with Alexia a few days prior. 

The energy between you and Kika was peaceful, like it weighed nothing. You and Alexia’s conversation was just as surface-level in content, but it felt deeper. More intense. Concentrated.  It was comfortable and familiar, like she was an old friend. Like she was home. 

You and Kika said your goodbyes and you started your walk back to your place. The sun was high in the sky, and the streets were bustling with activity. 

Barcelona was full of mysteries, you could already tell. What would come from you uncovering the ones meant for you, only time could tell that.