#i finally finished them your honour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slutforformulaone · 2 months ago

Note

Hey i was wondering if you could do drivers on their wedding day when the bridesmaids hand them like spicy photos of their wife?! im hoping yk what i mean they’re all over tiktok💗💗

F1 GRID || when your bridesmaids hand the driver spicy polaroid pictures of their newlywed wife!

warning : very suggestive content, 18+ content, no smut!

MAX VERSTAPPEN – the quiet, possessive one. dangerous level of horny. he’s sitting at a table near the dancefloor, champagne glass in hand, watching you sway in your dress. his gaze is intense, laser-focused. doesn’t even blink when people come up to talk. he’s too busy watching his wife — the way the dress hugs your hips, how your hair falls across your back, the way you throw your head back when you laugh. he’s not smiling, but his eyes are soft. full-on heart eyes. the first bridesmaid walks up and hands him a picture. max doesn’t say a word. just lowers his gaze. it’s you, in black lace lingerie, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed. hands in your hair, lips parted. his jaw tightens slightly. he blinks slow. then the second comes. you in a white satin robe, slipped down just enough to show a nipple. his fingers press the table. then a third — you in his race suit, nothing underneath, zipped halfway, chest spilling out. he actually exhales. slow and low. the fourth bridesmaid places one more — you on your stomach, arching your back, wearing nothing but heels. looking over your shoulder, smirking. he still hasn’t said a word. he just stacks them neatly like he’s archiving sacred texts. his ears are red. by the tenth picture — you in his cap, legs spread just enough to tease, lips glossy — he finally glances up at the dancefloor. you walk over, smirking. “you like them?” he looks up at you with that cold little grin. “you’re not leaving the room tomorrow.” you blink. “max—” “no. not one foot out of bed. you think this is funny?” he leans close to your ear. “i’m going to fuck you so slow you’ll forget how to walk.”

OSCAR PIASTRI – that sweet, controlled chaos he’s sitting quietly, sipping champagne, smiling whenever you look at him. he’s calm. always calm. but he’s watching every movement you make, from the way your dress sways to how your head tips back when you laugh. and then your maid of honour, ruby, walks up. “congrats, oscar,” she says casually, slipping him a photo. he blinks. looks down. it’s you, in his own racesuit — the top half unzipped and hanging off your waist, nothing on underneath. your bare chest is just barely covered by how you’ve crossed your arms, your hair messy and your lips parted like you were just calling his name. his smile freezes slightly. a different bridesmaid, lola, hands him another photo. and another. you bent over in heels and nothing else, back arched so your entire ass is on display. a close-up of your chest, arms crossed under your boobs with the sheerest top imaginable. one where you’re sitting on your knees, hands on your thighs, biting your lip. his hand tightens around the glass. he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. you stroll over, playing dumb. “you okay?” he doesn’t look at you, just says under his breath, “this is the meanest thing you’ve ever done.” you giggle. “do you like them?” “baby,” he says quietly, his voice low and warm, “if you don’t get me out of this reception in the next sixty seconds, i’m going to embarrass both of us in front of your nan.” he sets the glass down and stands up. “come on. i’m not patient tonight.”

CHARLES LECLERC – gone. completely finished. he’s been in a lovestruck daze all day, and now it’s just getting worse. he’s leaning against the wall, eyes soft, smile lazy as he watches you dance. you twirl. he sighs. you laugh. he presses a hand to his chest. then someone slips a picture into his hand. it’s you in red lingerie, straddling a chair, hair messy, lipstick smudged. he blinks. another. you in heels, standing in front of a mirror, taking a back-view selfie with just the tiniest flash of your face in the corner. another. you biting your finger, in bed, shirt rolled up to your chest and no bra underneath. he freezes. physically cannot move. you finally walk over and he immediately steps toward you like he’s possessed. “mon amour,” he says, voice wrecked. “what is this.” you bat your lashes. “a gift.” “you…” he swallows. “you want me to survive tonight?” you bit your lip, refusing to make eye contact, “not really.” he nods. “bon. i’m going to ruin this dress.” he takes your hand and pulls you straight out the side exit, not even caring who sees. you don’t make it five steps before he pins you against the venue’s garden wall and mutters, “thank you for marrying me. now shut up for five minutes."

ARTHUR LECLERC – flustered baby mode™ he’s sitting on the edge of the dancefloor, smiling like a boy in love, just watching you glow. bridesmaid walks up. gives him a picture. it’s you in a leather corset, hair in a bun, licking a cherry off your finger. his entire face turns red. “uh—merci?” he tries to hide it behind his drink. second one is worse—you're tied to the bed with silk ribbons, smiling lazily at the camera. he chokes. actually coughs. by the time the fifth one hits, his hands are shaking. when you walk over, he has a small stack of photos in his lap and is refusing to look up at you. you glance down. “oh my god, are you blushing?” “they gave me so many!” “they were supposed to be nice!” “this one has you in nothing but heels!” you’re both bright red. he tries to hand them back. you shake your head and push them back towards him, “no, you’re keeping those.” he groans but the blush is still very visible, “i don’t know where to put them!!” he ends up hiding them in his inside jacket pocket like a secret spy.

GEORGE RUSSELL – plays it off, but his thoughts are absolutely not holy he’s sitting upright, classic george posture, sipping on some fancy cocktail and watching you dance like he’s watching the sun set. bridesmaid slides him a picture. he opens it. you, on the floor, in a matching set of baby blue lace, legs curled to the side, looking over your shoulder. he coughs into his drink. “well.” another one. you in a steamy shower, water running down your bare back, hand on the glass. he glances around. “is anyone else seeing these?” more photos. increasingly explicit. by the end, he’s just quietly flipping through them with a tight-lipped smile, like he’s browsing a menu he’s not allowed to order from yet. you walk up, biting back a laugh. “regret marrying me yet?” he closes the stack, tucks it into his jacket. “marrying you? never. but i am wondering how long we have to stay before i can… appreciate these properly.” “what, like, frame them?” he leans in. “i was thinking more like… recreate them.”

LANDO NORRIS – cocky little shit he’s sitting back in the chair, watching you like you hung the damn moon, barely blinking. when the first photo hits, he smirks. you in fishnets and a black thong, laying across his old mclaren hoodie, eyes locked on the camera. “oh yes.” next one is worse—you in his helmet, nothing else, crouched with your knees spread and your tongue out. “oh my god.” he starts laughing. not like he thinks it’s funny—like he’s in awe. by the seventh photo he’s fully leaned back, grinning to himself. when you walk over, he fans the pictures like playing cards. “how do you expect me to sit here with these in my lap, looking at you in that dress?” you shake your head. “i thought they were going to be cute ones—like me in your shirts.” he’s already halfway out of his seat. “baby. you can’t give me pictures like this and not expect to be bent over something later.” "lando, baby, never say that again. please. for the sake of both of us." "what, why? did it make you horny?" he smirks. she makes a disgusted face and furrows her eyebrows, "wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy?"

OLLIE BEARMAN – completely overwhelmed, red to his ears, doesn’t know where to look ollie’s been watching you all night like he can’t quite believe you’re real — his wife. you’re glowing under the lights, laughing with your friends, spinning barefoot now because your heels got ditched two songs ago. he’s just standing at the edge of the dance floor, soft smile on his face, swaying a little to the music. then one of your bridesmaids walks up and wordlessly hands him a small polaroid picture. “uh… thanks?” he says, confused, looking down. he instantly chokes. it’s you, sitting on a bed in a silk robe, legs folded, but the robe’s fallen just enough to show you’re definitely not wearing anything underneath. your lips are glossed, and your head’s tilted like you’re waiting for him. he blinks. hard. "oh my god." the next one is worse — or better, depending on how you look at it. you’re lying on your side, sheets pushed down to your hips, bare back arched, hair splayed over the pillow. the lighting makes your skin glow. he immediately shoves it in his pocket like it’s going to burn him. “jesus christ,” he mumbles, heart thudding in his chest. another bridesmaid. another photo. you in black lace, standing in front of a full-length mirror, one heel on, one off, mouth parted like you’re mid-laugh. he stares at it for a full five seconds before his hand just goes limp and drops it into his lap. “oh no,” he mutters under his breath. “nonononono.” by the fifth photo — you sprawled out on a couch, only wearing a man's dress shirt, the buttons undone and barely covering anything — he’s flushed from the collarbone up. he looks like he might actually pass out. “what is happening right now,” he whispers. by the tenth? he’s holding some pictures in one hand and fanning himself with a napkin in the other. knees bouncing. glancing around like someone’s going to tell his mum. max walks past and smirks. “you good, mate?” “i’m fine,” ollie snaps, voice about three octaves too high. when you finally stroll over, still glowing and grinning, he just gapes at you. “you KNEW?” you look sheepish. “i knew they were giving you something, but i thought it was like… cute selfies? i didn’t know they went full calendar shoot on me.” he tries to speak. can’t. clears his throat.“I—I don’t even—” he cuts himself off. looks away. covers his face with both hands. “ollie,” you say gently, pulling one hand down, “breathe.” he blinks at you. his pupils are huge. “you’re so—i just—” he stammers. “i don’t even know if i’m allowed to look at you now.” you laugh softly, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “you married me, baby. you’re definitely allowed.” he exhales. “right. right. okay. cool. coolcoolcool.” beat. “…but maybe don’t show me any more of those until we get home. i’m actually not okay.” you kiss his cheek. “noted.”

CARLOS SAINZ – cool on the outside, losing his mind inside he’s sitting at a table, drink half-finished, tie loose around his neck. his eyes haven’t left you since the first song started, watching you spin around the dance floor in your dress like he’s already mentally stripping it off you. when the first bridesmaid approaches, he takes the envelope with a raised brow. he opens it. it’s you in black lace, one hand gripping the headboard, back arched like you knew he’d be seeing it. he blinks once. then calmly folds the photo and slips it into his jacket pocket. “interesting.” the second one is you in red satin, lying on your stomach, ass peeking out just enough. he clears his throat. the third one? you're looking up at the camera, wearing nothing but thigh highs and a necklace he bought you. he doesn’t say a word. just runs a hand through his hair and exhales quietly through his nose. by the time you walk over, he's cool as ever. leaning back in his chair, watching you with that smug little smile. “you’re lucky there’s still cake to be cut,” he says, voice low. “or you’d be on your back in five minutes.” you bite your lip. he knows you planned this. you know he’s barely hanging on.

ALEX ALBON – shocked at first, then slightly embarrassed alex is leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watches you spin around on the dancefloor. his gaze is soft, filled with admiration, and a little bit of that “wow, she’s mine” look. then, as if on cue, your bridesmaid approaches him, handing him the first picture. it’s a shot of you in a sultry pose, your legs sprawled across the couch, your dress bunched up just enough to tease. alex’s eyes widen as he looks down at the photo, his lips parting in a quiet laugh. "um… okay," he mutters under his breath, trying to pretend like he’s not totally caught off guard. he looks back at you, almost as if asking for permission, but you’re too far away to notice. another bridesmaid approaches, handing him another one. this one’s a close-up shot of you on your knees, your hands teasing your own nipple as you look directly at the camera. "jesus" alex coughs. he looks around, then back at the picture, his face flushed. "i didn’t know what kind of wedding this was gonna be…" the pictures keep coming: one of you with your back arched, showing off your curves; one of you lying on your stomach, your hands tangled in your hair, looking over your shoulder. with each new picture, alex is trying to keep it together, but his cheeks are red, and he’s getting a little more flustered. the final picture handed to him is one of you in a very intimate moment, eyes closed in pleasure as your hand trails over your body. it’s enough to make alex feel like he’s been hit by a truck. he presses the photo against his chest with a deep breath. "well... that was... something." as you walk over, you can already see the look in his eyes. "i didn’t know they were doing this," you say, arching an eyebrow. "yeah... i know," alex says with a grin. "i’m not sure whether to thank you or run away."

LOGAN SARGEANT – completely unaware, then amused logan is dancing along with a few of the guests, looking over at you occasionally with a small smile. he can’t help it—his eyes are drawn to you, the way you move with such grace. he’s completely captivated. then, one of your bridesmaids hands him the first picture: a playful shot of you laying across a bed, your legs kicked up and a teasing smile on your face. logan blinks a few times, taking the picture in silence. "uh… okay... this is different." he doesn’t know what to say at first. "is this… normal?" a second bridesmaid walks up with another photo—this one a bit more daring. it’s you with your back arched, one hand resting on the back of your neck, lips parted as if you’re about to speak. "wow, alright," he says, chuckling nervously. he looks at the picture, then back at you, clearly flustered. he tries to shrug it off, but then the third picture is handed to him—a close-up of you in a lingerie set, your legs crossed in a sultry manner, gazing at the camera like you know exactly what you're doing. "logan, i swear to god, i didn’t sign up for this," he mutters under his breath. the pictures continue: one of you leaning over a chair, showing off your curves in a provocative pose, and another one where you’re looking at the camera with a seductive smile, teasing a bit of skin. "okay, okay, i get it," logan says, laughing it off, but the last picture makes him pause: it's you lying on a bed, hand resting on your chest as if you’re deep in thought, eyes closed with a soft expression of pleasure. he’s caught off guard. "uh... i didn’t know you were this... adventurous," he says quietly to himself. as you walk over, you can’t help but smirk at the sight of logan, clearly trying to keep his cool. "so… how’s it going over here?" "uh, i don’t know if i can look at you the same now," logan jokes, his voice full of mock seriousness. you just laugh and walk away, knowing that the pictures were exactly what they were meant to be.

DANIEL RICCIARDO – playful and flirty, loves the pictures daniel watches you on the dancefloor, his heart racing a little faster as he takes in the sight of his beautiful wife. he’s grinning from ear to ear, clearly loving the way you look. the first bridesmaid hands him a picture. it’s a spicy shot of you in your lingerie, sitting on the edge of a chair, one hand on your thigh and the other resting on the armrest, teasing a glimpse of what's underneath. "oh, so this is how it’s gonna be," daniel grins, clearly enjoying the surprise. another bridesmaid hands him one of you lying on your back on the bed, your head tilted back, mouth slightly open as if you’re caught in the moment. daniel’s grin widens. "okay, okay... i see you, babe." he looks back at you, but you’re too busy to notice his reaction. as the pictures keep coming, he’s getting more and more into it. one of you with your back arched, giving a playful look over your shoulder; another one where you’re biting your lip, looking like you’re about to pounce. "you really know how to surprise a guy," daniel says, clearly impressed. the last picture is a little more explicit—of you with your fingers brushing the edge of your dress, your gaze fixed on the camera as if daring anyone to come closer. daniel chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "oh, you’re gonna love me after tonight," he mutters under his breath. when you walk over, he pulls you into his arms, whispering in your ear, "so, when can i get my own private show?" you laugh, already knowing what he’s talking about. "you’ll just have to wait, darling."

LEWIS HAMILTON – flustered, but secretly loving the attention lewis watches you dance, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest. he can’t help but admire how stunning you look, lost in the moment as you laugh and enjoy the celebration. one of your bridesmaids hands him a picture—a sultry one of you posing in front of the mirror, your lips parted in a teasing smile, a glimpse of your lingerie peeking out from your dress. lewis blinks a few times, his mouth going dry. "well, well, well," he murmurs, trying to keep his cool. the next picture is a close-up of you lying on a bed, one hand resting near your thigh, looking at the camera with a smoldering gaze. "you’re killing me, you know that?" lewis laughs, shaking his head. the next few pictures are similar, each one getting progressively more daring and intimate. you teasing with your dress, biting your lip, or giving a seductive glance directly into the camera. "this is what you do to me," he whispers to himself, clearly trying to hide how much he’s enjoying this. when you walk over, you notice the little grin on his face. "i take it the pictures were to your liking?" "you have no idea," lewis says, his voice low and smooth. "you’re gonna be the death of me, baby."

i am so grateful for this request, i had so much fun writing it and it's just made me fall even more in love with the drivers – also, the trend is actually to die for! i can't wait to get married, so my bridesmaid can do this for me! ^^

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archive-doll · 30 days ago

Text

Oh, sweet neighbour.

Author Note: Finally free from this. I love it.

Johnny Mactavish x f!reader. He's your neighbour. You are his new god. First meeting.

18+ CW: the military, while not very detailed it's shit. you're pregnant, that's a warning on its own. please, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Have mercy on my grammar, English is not my first language. Enjoy.

MASTERLIST. NEXT

You were delighted the first time you understood you would have a new neighbour. The sign left in front of the old house has been hanging there since you arrived three months ago, moving with the weather. When the slight bump of your belly could easily be hidden with a larger sweater.

The nice contractor assigned to the wilderness of your county has been telling you about it when you visited your house, how you wouldn’t have any neighbours for now. It wasn’t exactly surprising; the North of Scotland is not really attractive to most people. The whole world is at least a two-hour drive, and the rain seems to never quite stop, and during the winter, electricity can go out under the strength of the wind.

So, when the nice older woman, Jenny, told you about this serious candidate who was interested in the old wooden home on the other edge of the field, you assumed it was another one, trying to find rest. And from what Jenny revealed to you, your hypothesis is rather truthful. A man older than you, who was just honourably discharged from the British Army, after being severely wounded.

Truly, she shouldn’t tell you any of it, as it is supposed to be confidential information, but who would you tell? The stray cat that slowly invades your porch? The cattle you saved from a cruel death? It reassured you, knowing this information. It was a new adventure starting, having a neighbour in this remote part of the country.

The first time you saw the old truck, it almost made you laugh in amusement. A military man retired, driving the most vintage piece of metal you ever saw, still rolling. The dark green colour seems to turn to grey at the edge, the old thing making a noise close to a dying breath. You find it fitting, somewhat, with the description you have of him.

You are knee-deep into the renovation of your newly acquired stable. It isn’t as if your home is fully finished either, since you’re trying to do it all yourself. But it fills you with purpose, with a sense of belonging you had cruelly missed for the majority of your life, one that you yearned for so strongly it almost broke you before.

A hammer in hand, and the humidity slithering into your rainboots, you watch with slight curiosity the man park on the other side of the river that crossed the field. You can not see anything remotely interesting from where you stand, only the silhouette of him, and quickly your attention goes back to the wall you had taken all the rotten planks out of, before sighing. Your shoulders hurt, and you know you should not do heavy work considering your current state, but it has to be done. You shift on your feet, and the features on your face change to a concentrated expression before your hand raises with a firm grip. You will go greet your new neighbour soon enough, but before that, you have work to do.

The only time you finally found to go present yourself to this stranger was three days later. A plate filled with what you tried to be a warm apple pie; you take your time crossing the distance to their residence. You hesitated between the two of them for a long time, each of the houses had a charm you were weak too. But you decided on the old Cotswolds stone house, which is a type of habitat you typically find in England. The one you were now walking to has a wooden structure, one that makes you feel warmth, where you could drink warm chocolate inside. A beautiful house, you think.

You take a breath, slightly anxious at the now-soon-to-be interaction, feeling your heart thumping in your chest. Question roams in your skull: Is it very smart to inform an adult man, trained to kill, that you lived alone, where no one would ever know if you were to be in danger?

Your hands shake slightly around the plate you’re holding on to, everything you were ever taught against your will, everything you sadly believe in, told you it was a bad idea. But you try, just for a moment, to cease the lessons you painfully learned that paralyse you with fear and press a foot on the first stair. The wooden creak beneath your weight, the roundness of your tummy now showing as it strained beneath your coat.

Before you could even finish graving the steps leading to his front door, it was opening. Surprised at the motion and rather tired from the walk leading you there, your doe eyes find the hardness of a man being invaded in his privacy. It makes you waver momentarily, pregnant form stilling in its walk. The mop of hair on top of his face – rather charming, you must admit – is untidy, straying around until some dark curly strands fall on his forehead. Bright blue eyes that make your breath hitch before he analytically gazes at you in a matter of seconds. It’s rather disturbing to see the threatening presence of his disappear so vividly.

The tightness on him melts away, broad shoulders loosening as his wounded arm falls against his torso. The stance he had taken at the sound of you shift into something approachable, someone really, instead of the weapon he had been groomed to become.

Your eyelashes flutter as he opens the door wider, taking a step on the porch, finally feeling as if the tight hold around your throat is loosening. You resume your movement and offer him a careful smile, slightly disturbed by the first sight of him that he showed you. Droplets of water fall from the edge of your hood as he approaches with firm steps, the hand not pressed into that medical scarf hold out for you to take.

“’ello ma’am.”

The polite and confused tone of his voice widens your smile, the gentlemanly manner putting you at ease as you accept his help, finally reaching the edge of the porch. From close, you’re quite admirative of his features, finding in his eyes a storm that seems a reflection of the sea. You do not say anything, not about the way his fingers are rough around your palm, digging there, and how his ring finger misses a knuckle.

“Hello, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nae, nae, it’s a’right.” He stumbles on his words with a firm shake of his head, stopping your unnecessary apologies. “Didnae thought anyone would come see me.”

“Well, I did. And I have an apple pie for you, too.” You reply with a smile, raising slightly the covered plate you were holding, which seems to pique his attention as his eyes flicker downward as if seeing it for the first time.

Johnny, you quickly find, hushes you inside with a quickness in his tone that you think is worry, or maybe guilt for frightening you the first second you've seen him. You give a little laugh at his own expression of regret, waving a hand in the air to signify you don't mind.

The warmth of his home makes you sigh while he closes the door behind you, your eyes admiring the entryway quietly before he moves past you with a precision unsettling. In the last three minutes you’ve known him, you can see the military experience he has bleeding out from every one of his actions.

Johnny had been ready to shoot at the intruder the second he sensed your presence. His residence here is only because the British Army made him leave. It was a consequence of betrayal, of disaster, of disarray. Never once, since he left Scotland at age sixteen, running away from the battlefield that was home, did he ever consider the possibility of coming back. But, since the only home he ever had abandoned him, the only other place he could settle on to go back to was here. The Royal Army dismissing him doesn't mean he doesn't have enemies anymore.

After years of sacrifices, weeks of torture, months of the sand and blood invading his senses, they forced him away. He did not even have the time to process it; in a coma for a month, caused by a bullet entering his skull. By some curse, he made it, though the scar hidden beneath his hair says a different story. He awakens in that room, the white lightning cutting through like a knife, unaware of anything, only for, five minutes later, a superior officer he had never seen before telling him he would never be able to come back.

He never imagined that the neighbour Jenny told him about, would come here. Neither did he ever fantasise about how soft and gentle you would be. As he watches you, from the edge of his previously unused kitchen, microwaved dinner is all he has ever known – he is almost distraught by the sight of you.

The dark blue sweater you wear is shifting over your rounded belly each time you move slightly too far. The patch of flesh, strained there, almost feels like a hallucination. He doesn’t process any of the words escaping your lips, and really, he should be more attentive to them. But the warmth in your eyes and the lightness in your voice as you tell him of the surrounding areas, giving him intel on the closest threat around, are unfamiliar.

It has been weeks since his discharge. Weeks of mandatory therapy established by the organisation he surrendered his life for. Of endless pain in his head, like fresh lava melting around his skull every minute of every day. Weeks of wandering aimlessly, a shell of who he once was, blown apart. Stripped away from his sole purpose in life, abducted from the only person he ever cared for since he took control of his life. Only for it all to cease, to be taken away from him. Every scar he had been the victim of over the years, over the last decade of his life, was nothing now that he was in exile. Banished from the only world he knows.

And now, here you are. Standing in the house he bought for barely anything at all, and his mind becomes silent. He looks at you, the soft lines around your mouth as you speak to him, and everything - the past stops his restless assault. A miracle, mirage, it didn’t matter what you are. Of course, you are too perfect to be real. You, and that warm, handmade apple pie. You and your graceful hands, free of any burden in life. You, and the warmth of your soul, he is swallowed by each time you gaze his way.

Johnny is certain he must look completely unhinged, staring too hard from a few steps away. He knows he should interact with you, at least pretend to be normal as he did since he left the military base. But everything in you, every little thing that you are, renders him defenceless. From the comically large slippers he lends you, the curve of your plush thighs, to the way you simply stand there blissfully.

Your voice takes him away from his quiet moment of salvation, and he tilts his chin down to find you closer, a piece of apple pie on a little plate he did not even know he owned.

“You must be tired. I know comin’ all the way here isn’t easy.”

You’re silently wondering how he drives here, with an injured arm, but don’t think on it too long. Looking at him under the light, you can almost sense his tiredness. It’s written all over his broad frame, even as he still tenses when he watches you, the harsh line of his jaw where beard starts to grow. The thunder growling in his eyes. You do not ask, do not even mention it, and settle the plate he keeps looking at on the island counter before, with a heavy sigh, sitting down. One hand comes on the valley of your back as the reprieve of the highchair lightens your troubles.

“You alone here?” He mumbles after a moment, and you see when it comes, the crinkles around his eyes.

There is a moment of silence, as your face hardens, once again pondering the dangerousness of it. Johnny, since you took your first step, never truly intended to hurt you. It was instinct back then, you can tell. It is still as he stays on the edge of the room, close enough to the window and the front door. The only position where he can see the other entry points and you at the same time. Even battered as he appeared to be, there is no way his training could ever be forgotten.

“Can’t say I am.” You settle on with a hint of humour to defuse the slight tension growing in the room.

You, peculiarly, find great pride in the way his face widens at your words, before his eyes shine, watching your hand tap on the baby bump you expose, his way. Your mouth twitches before the grin you’re trying to hide finally breaks free. It is like seeing the sun for the first time, as his broad shoulders tremble under his laugh, the sound radiant as the summer, his head tilting backwards.

Johnny, you understand, is much like the stray animals you scour around the country. You must allow him time to judge you; to feel safe with you in his personal space and prove you would never ever hurt him. Amusingly, he reminds you of the bull you are trying to negotiate with the farmer a little further down the hill. All broad around, with an intimidating physique that leaves you breathless when he struts toward you. Who once offered food is rather fine with your presence.

“Good one, bonnie.” He grumbles again with a chuckle, sitting down in front of you as you fill the second plate. “No one tae look after ya then?”

“I came here so no one would.” You admit, eyes shifting down as you push the tine of your fork into the sweet apple. “Wanted a home for myself.”

“Can understand tha'. Where ya come from then?”

Your eyes glimmer, seeing him inhale the pie, slightly saddened by how starved he looks, groans of contentment leaving him with each bite. The decision is easy to make, even after the scare he gave you when he opened the door.

The loneliness seems to cling to him like a dead lover, like a curse that runs deep into his blood, carving his place into his bones. For a moment, he reminds you of a haunted house after the people who inhabited it died tragically, leaving only the shell of what it was before. You’ll come and offer him food. Make sure he eats, and do not let himself be swallowed by his grief.

You let him interrogate you. He offers answers of his own in return, and while sometimes cryptic, you make do with them. For a man surely as closed as he, he already tells you enough, especially during your first meeting. The questions are relatively innocent, if you don’t think of the ramifications of it all. Why did you decide on coming to Scotland, why the house so far away from everything, Does any of your family come to visit you before – he's searching for information. But with every answer you offer him, not hiding that you came here for freedom and safety, you watch him soften around the edges.

Your fingers stroking along your belly, you smile as you watch his face shift when he tells you all about Scotland, where you should go visit, or where to eat a good meal. With a firm tone, though, and a long stare, he informs you never to go alone by yourself, that he’ll be your guide if you wish for it. Maybe a comparison to a stray hoarding dog would have been more accurate than a bull, you decide, as you giggle.

“Understood, Sir.” You mock with honest gratefulness, already feeling quite comfortable around him.

There is a twitch on the corner of his eyes, a straightening flinch in his shoulders, and you immediately regret it, your eyes widening in worry as his hands curl on the kitchen island around his empty plate.

He shakes his head then, after a moment of watching, unruly curls ruggedly flowing around his face, you are not insensitive to, as he gargles a laugh. Soon, he breaks the cold air, and he tells you to at least raise your hand next time, and you giggle happily, giving him a nod in acceptance.

Well, your new neighbour might not be what you imagined, but he’s perfect as he is. Especially when he walks you back home, his hand out in offering, grasping at your fingers to help you cross the uneven ground of the field.

line dividers by cafekitsune

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222col · 2 months ago

Text

fairy!reader x preachers son!art

summary: you were temptation personified to art, he can barely keep his purity ring on when you tell him you need to confess your sins

cw .ᐟ nsfw, religious themes / language

꒰ notes ꒱ happy easter looool <3

the cross sat pretty around his neck, purity ring around his finger, he was the object of virtue. always dressed smartly, ironed shirts and matching socks. he never missed sunday sermons, or bible study, or family dinners. art was the picture perfect christian.

he'd heard about other boys being tested, warnings from his father, or gossiping at his weekly youth club. but art never fully understood the meaning, until you.

art's father made him sit out of the sex education classes during high school, but he was shown one video by his mother from the 80s. christian propaganda mainly, warning children of the horrors of teen pregnancy and sex before marriage.

art had never even touched himself before meeting you, too scared to even try. the idea that he could see him performing lewd acts on himself was too daunting. the only orgasms he'd ever had were during wet dreams, in which art prayed and prayed for forgiveness the next morning.

everything changed when he met you. all wide eyes and exposed skin. the first time art touched himself was to the thought of your cross dangling against your skin, the curve of your throat, the freckles on your shoulders. he cried himself to sleep that night.

you were too sweet, too unaware of his perversions. art could barely meet your eyes, knowing that he'd done unspeakable things to himself in your honour. just the image in his head of your legs against the church pew made his slacks tight.

another night staying late at the church, cleaning up the aisles for his father. once finished with his chores, art takes himself to the final pew and drops to his knees. hands clasped as he speaks directly to him, all but begging to be freed from his corrupted thoughts of you. it doesn't seem to be working though, as he's growing hard at the reminder.

"hi, artie." your voice cuts him out of focus, head snapping up to you. picture perfect in your white dress, rocking back and forth on your heels, innocent smile on your face. "h-hi," he mumbles in response, climbing up from his knees to sit upon the pew. "what are you doing here?"

you shrug softly, sliding in next to him. thighs touching his, as art's breath hitches. "must have got my days mixed up," you murmur, voice like velvet as it hits his ears. "thought your dad was here for confession."

he knows he shouldn't. knows it's wrong, that if his dad heard the next words to leave his throat he'd be done for. but art couldn't stop them if he tried. "you could— i could— you can talk to me, if you wanna?"

you nod your head immediately, as though there was nothing at all wrong with his suggestion. "o-okay," he mutters, sitting up straight, in some attempt to calm himself. "whenever you're ready."

"bless me father, for i— should i still say father?" art's ready to return to his knees and beg you to. "whatever makes you more comfortable." he attempts to encourage, turning his head to watch you.

"bless me father, for i have sinned," you continue, hands clasped together in your lap, looking up to him, before turning your head to meet art's eyes. "i'm not sure if it's a sin, but— i don't think it's a sin, but i wanted to confess it anyway."

art's desperately trying to stay level headed, to not let his mind runaway with him. he's calm, encouraging you to continue, he's prepared for whatever you might—

"i've been touching myself, father."

oh, fuck.

definitely a sin. definitely concerning you don't know that. definitely made the blood run straight to art's crotch. he already had a semi before you said that.

"oh— i see— well, that's— um," don't say it. don't say it. "where have you been touching yourself?" art can barely get the words out without choking. to say that phrase, in the lord's house, his heart is beating like crazy.

"here," you murmur, as your hands unclasp and land over your panties. "oh—" art voice hitches, looking away as your hand sits gently over your heat. his lip quivers as he looks up to the ceiling, saying three hail mary's in his head before turning back to you.

your legs gently spread, hand beneath your dress, fabric hitched up around your thighs. art had been getting off to a picture of you from the picnic after easter mass for months, and now you're before his eyes with your hand below your skirt.

he knows he shouldn't take advantage, art's torn between assuming you're doing this on purpose or genuinely being unaware. he knew his parents were strict on his sex education, or lack thereof, is it possible yours were even worse. he's cursing himself out in his head for even having this internal conflict. all too aware any other boy would be jumping at the chance to see you like this.

"do you ever?" you murmur softly, free hand crawling up along the inside of his thigh. oh, there goes any form of conflict. "mhm," he hums, not trusting his voice in that moment. his arms spread out along the back of the pews, head falling back slightly as your hand ghosts over his crotch.

unable to stop the soft whimpers that leave his lips as you begin to palm him over his slacks, his eyes darting back down to watch your movements. gently to unbuttoning his trousers, the damp mark on his tighty whities prominent. his breathing is heavy, laboured, as your hand reaches below his boxers. "oh, my—"

the feeling of someone else's hand on him is otherworldly, incomparable to his own. the arm resting behind your head slowly moves towards your body, shaking on it's way. his mind clouded solely by desire as his hand snakes below your dress.

his fingers slip under your lace panties, exploring your slick folds, jaw slack as he does. he's too focused on the feeling of your hand moving up and down on him to realise he has no idea what he's meant to do, how he's meant to touch you. his fingers bump your clit in his exploration, eliciting a moan from you.

in assumption that was pleasure, he continues. his movements messy, rhythm off but the feeling of someone else's hands is so foreign to both of you that it doesn't matter.

art's eyes meet yours, his gaze absorbing the sinful look upon your face. engraving the vision to his memory, eyes trailing down to watch the rise and fall of the cross sitting against your skin as you breathe. the soft whimpers echoing in his ears, his own mirroring yours.

his ring is cold against your skin as his movements increase in speed, evoking more moans from your lips. art's knuckles are white, clutching the wooden pew. feeling the familiar tension in his stomach, your own orgasm quickly approaching.

"oh— hphnn— god!" incoherent mumbles are all art can muster, spilling his orgasm over your hand, pooling around the base of him, staining his boxers. his name falls from your lips as his fingers lazily push you over the edge.

sat together panting, coming back down to earth, hands both sat beneath each others underwear, not moving. his eyes half lidded as they meet yours, blush across both your cheeks.

it's minutes before art pulls his slacks back up fully, gulping down his guilt before he makes the sign of the cross and drops down to his knees in front of the pew. immediately following suit, hands still sticky as they clasp together in front of your chest.

"bless me father, for i have sinned."

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @bluestrd @appleaali @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @donteventry-itdude @matchpointfaist @stanart4clearskin @s0ftcobra @artaussi @simmerinsauce @coolgrl111 @hrrysglitter @cinnamoncunt @elsieblogs @tennisthatcher @deeninadream (to be added)

#fairy!reader 𐦍 #fairy!reader x art donaldson #preachers son!art #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #challengers #challengers fic #mike faist #★ 222col's writing

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marvelwitchergilmore · 3 months ago

Text

Sour Candy

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You and Tyler have known each other most of your lives, so what happens when you finally admit your long harboured feeling for each other?

Disclaimer: This does contain swearing and smut (towards the end) so 18+. A lot of fluff, mutual pining, oblivious idiots. Brother's best-friend/ best friend to lovers. Tyler helps reader with prom-trouble, mentions of anxiety, tornadoes, reader being an EMT, blood and minor injuries. Mostly fluffy moments between Tyler and Reader. Also, this is a long one -- kinda takes place over ten-ish years (starting from senior prom). Not fully proof read.

You’d known Tyler since you were a kid. When your brother was in the fourth grade and he brought home a scrappy blonde kid who introduced himself by shaking your father’s hand and handing your mother some flowers he’d picked from the side of the road on the way home, you saw your brother had a friend for life.

A good one.

And it was only proved time and time again.

Of course, they were still boys so you couldn’t join in all of their games. But you’d still sneak to your bedroom window to watch them play cowboys in the backyard when you should have been in bed.

Stuipd older brothers getting a later bedtime.

However, as you thought back, the time when he proved it without even trying was during your senior prom.

For weeks you’d been looking for the right dress. You’d tried on at least forty with your mom over the course of two weeks, another ten – some repeaters – with your best friend, and a further fifteen with your brother.

He’d stomped into your room when you were in the middle of completing extra credit for your chemistry class.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where’re you goin’?”

He just stood by your bedroom door with a hand on his hips. A look you’d see often when he finally had his own kids. “You’ve not picked out a dress yet and your prom is in three weeks. Mom says I need to help you find one.”

You looked back to your homework. You were almost finished.

“It can wait. Come on. Let’s go.”

Two hours later you were inside yet another dress store trying on different dresses.

“I thought girls were meant to be excited when dress shopping.”

You rolled your eyes from behind the changing curtain as you wriggled another dress up your body. “We do. I know I do but…it’s…” You grunted as you pulled the dress up. Was each one getting heavier?

“What are you doin’, ridin’ a bull in there?”

Eventually you pulled the curtain across and picked up the dress as you walked out and turned to look in the mirror. “It’s exhausting.”

“So why not just pick one? What about this one?”

You turned in the mirror a few times, considering it. Then shook your head. “Not this one.”

“If you’re not that bothered, why not just-”

“Because it’s gotta be perfect,” you turned and told him. “I know people party at college but I’ve already seen some of my assignments. I’m gonna be swamped if I wanna pass with honours. This is the last night I get to be…free? I want it to be perfect.”

So, for the next thirty minutes, you tried on more dresses until finally your brother knocked on the curtain.

“Knock, knock.”

“What?”

“Don’t bite my head off.” He stood back and held up a dress. “Tyler said try this one.”

You held up the hanger before looking back at your brother surprised. “Tyler’s here?” Peaking your head around the corner, you spotted him standing leaning against the wall across from you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he drawled, a slight grin on his face. “He said he needed back-up. Try it on.”

“I think I’ve tried on every-”

Your brother pushed your face back inside your dressing room, along with your dress. “Just try it on.”

You sighed and did as he said. Another day, you might have fought him on it. But you were tired. And hungry.

Letting the other dress drop to the floor with a heavy thud – you were thankful to be out of it – you let out a long breath before finally unzipping the dress and trying it on.

It went on easier than a lot of the others, and it didn’t feel as restricting. Finally opening up the curtain, you walked out and stood on the small step up before looking at yourself in the mirror.

And for the first time you had that smile slowly growing on your face. The feeling your mom had told you about. The giddiness and excitement to put it on again.

“So, is this the dress?” You looked into the mirror and found your brother and Tyler stood back. Tyler had his phone out, recording the whole thing.

You nodded. “This is the dress.”

“Hallelujah!” Your brother threw his arms in the air and turned around. “I’ll go and tell the cashier.”

As your brother disappeared, Tyler closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before sauntering over to you. “Glad he called me?”

You smiled, turning to look at him. “Very. Remind me to bring you instead of him when I chose a wedding dress.”

Tyler chuckled and looked back at you through the mirror. “I’ll be there.”

Little did you know, the week before your prom, your opinion on the prom would do a complete 180.

“A-actually, I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

The dinner table went silent. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

You parents exchanged a long look before looking back at you. “Why not, honey?”

“I…I just don’t feel like it, s’all.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Your dad asked. “I thought you were excited to wear your dress?”

You nodded in a slight panic. “I am. I am. And thank you for getting it for me. It’s just…I don’t want to go anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

That was the only answer your entire family got out of you all week.

“She’ll come back around. Maybe it’s just her cycle.”

“Keep the appointments, just in case.”

Your mom nodded. “I will.”

A week later however, you were lying on your bed staring at your ceiling. Your mom had still taken you for your hair, make-up and nail appointments. Even if you weren’t planning on going, the nails would last you a few weeks and your hair would last a few days. The make-up was just a bonus. And it wasn’t too much. It could pass for day make-up with something a little extra.

But you still weren’t going.

Your brother had tried talking to you, as had your parents. They’d called your best friend’s house to ask if she could come round and help but she wasn’t home.

So, they had to call a last resort. Or rather, he showed up at your home.

“What y’all doin’ down here?” Tyler appeared at the end of the hallway, finding your mom, dad and brother either stood or sat outside your door.

“She won’t come out of her room.”

Your brother tilted his head. “Technically we haven’t tried to get her to come out but she’s been in there since she came home.”

“She had any food?”

“We picked something up on the way home,” your mom explained.

“Tyler, son, do you think you can try and talk to her?” Your dad asked. “She might talk to you.”

Tyler nodded. “I can try. She still fixed on not going?”

“We think so.”

Tyler nodded and slowly they all disappeared down the hallway and downstairs. Tyler knocked twice.

“Y/n? You in there?”

There was no answer. But Tyler waited.

“I’m gonna open the door in ten seconds if I don’t hear a reply. For all I know you could be dead-”

“It’s already open.” Your voice replied from inside. And slowly, Tyler turned the knob before opening up the door. “I’m here.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey.”

You just turned and looked back up at the ceiling. And Tyler closed the door behind him before leaning against the wall beside it for a moment. Your room was clean. Like post-exam, anxiety-flurry clean. The window was open with your net curtain softly billowing to outside. Your dress was hung up on your clothing divider in the corner of your room and you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what’s been goin’ on? One minute you're excited for prom, planning every last detail and now you just…don’t wanna go?” Tyler slowly walked over to you.

“That’s about it. Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Nobody’s stoppin’ ya.”

Tyler laid down beside you on your bed, turning to face you for a moment before reaching over and wiping away one of the small tears from the corner of your eye.

“You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on with you?” Tyler’s voice was soft when he spoke to you, waiting for you to answer. And for a while, you thought about it.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s between you, me and these four walls, sweetheart. Like always.”

You smiled at that. Over the years, as much as Tyler had been your brother’s best friend, he’d been there for you, too. One afternoon when he and your brother were playing hide and seek, he’d climbed the tree only to find you sat against your bedroom window in tears. He’d slid it open, crawled inside and hugged you. He was the first person to know you were getting bullied at school. He was also the first person to help you through your science homework when you got stuck with it and the first person, outside of your family, who you knew you could go to for just about anything.

“Well,” you took a breath. “I found out my best friend not only stole my date for prom, but is also now dating him.”

“What?”

Three months before prom, you’d been asked by one of the guys in your school to go to prom together and you were ecstatic. Not only had you harboured a crush on him for almost two years, but he’d noticed you and wanted to take you to prom. He didn’t have a girlfriend, he hadn’t been dared to ask you out or some other kind of bullshit. He’d asked because he wanted to take you.

Only, your best friend, who’d known since day one about your crush had been sneaking behind your back and just over a week ago you’d caught her texting someone and smiling like an idiot at her phone. It was after she told you she had to go to work that you’d gone to the local coffee shop to pick you and your mom some drinks up. That was when you saw them. Sat in the corner, talking to each other before your best friend leaned over and kissed him.

That was when it clicked with you that the guy she’d been so secretive about for the last two weeks was your date to the prom.

“Shit. Y/n, that’s…”

“Fucking unbelievable? I know.”

“That’s why you don’t wanna go to the prom?”

You nodded. “Knowing they’re both there. I just…I don’t wanna.”

“You shouldn’t let them ruin your prom night. You can still have a great time.”

“Oh, it’ll be wonderful. Sat in the corner for the entire night.”

“Look,” Tyler reasoned with you. “Just go for an hour. And if you hate it, I’ll come and pick you up and we can sit in the Walmart parking lot for a couple hours so your folks think you’re still out having a good time.”

You looked over at Tyler. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded as easily as breathing. “Of course I would.”

Ten minutes later, you were finally putting your dress on. “Wait, Ty- can you zip me up? I can’t do the rest without my hair gettin’ caught.”

Tyler turned back from your door and walked across as you turned around. Holding it at the bottom, he was slow to pull it up and when he’d finally finished, you turned around only to be met with his gaze.

“You look beautiful, darlin’.”

You felt yourself smile, if with a little blush. “Thanks.”

Then he stood back. “Your mom’s probably gonna want pictures.”

You nodded. “I know. Meet you downstairs?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You took a few moments after the door closed to find your breath again. Puberty had hit Tyler like a freight train after middle school. And along with his town's fame of climbing the bull riding ropes, so like every man and woman in town, you haven't failed to notice how attractive he’d become. But it wasn’t just that. The feeling you got in your chest when he looked at you could rival any tornado that had torn its way through the fields.

But then you reminded yourself of who he was to you. Your brother’s best friend, secretly one of your best friends.

Nothing could ever happen there.

Your mom took plenty of pictures of you and both your brother and Tyler drove you to your prom.

“Want me to kick his ass?”

“I can give him an alibi,” Tyler added, looking over his shoulder at your brother before looking back at you in his passenger seat.

“No, that’s…thanks guys. But I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you’re my sister. The offer always stands. Twenty years from now? Or twenty minutes? Just give me a call.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

As you hopped out of the truck and headed inside the venue, your brother climbed his way over the seat and into the front all the while Tyler’s eyes never left you.

“You wanna head to the batting cages?”

It took a minute before Tyler realised someone was talking to him. You really did look beautiful.

“Oh, uh, no. I can’t tonight, man. I’ve gotta help my mom with the attic.”

Your brother just nodded. “Fair.”

Tyler drove your brother home and just as he hopped out of the truck, reminding him about the rodeo training next Thursday, a text beeped from Tyler’s phone.

“See you later, man.”

“See ya!”

Once your brother was finally in the house, Tyler looked at his phone.

I know you said an hour-

It had been forty minutes.

But I think I’d rather spend tonight in the parking lot than here.

Tyler smiled at the text. He’d hoped you’d have fun but he couldn’t lie. Having you prefer the idea of wasting a couple hours in the parking lot of the grocery store with him made his heart beat faster than usual.

Once his truck pulled up, he found you already sat on the steps outside. Spotting him, you stood and quickly rushed over to his truck.

“Is everything okay?”

Tyler could hear the music beating from inside just before they announced the King and Queen.

You nodded, hopping into the other side. “Thank you.” You surprised Tyler by leaning over the truck bench and hugging him tight.

He hugged you back for a moment before you sat back down.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You chuckled. “You have no idea. But I’ll tell you once I’ve got ice cream.”

Tyler drove to the twenty four hour grocery store twenty minutes from the venue. Inside, he was quick on your heels as you rushed to find the frozen section. You called out two of his preferred flavours and he picked one. You grabbed two tubs before rushing to the party section and picking out some spoons. By the time you got to the checkout, Tyler handed over the cash before you had a chance to.

And sat on the back of his flatbed, eating ice cream under the parking lot lights and the stars, you told him everything that had happened in the ninety minutes he’d been gone.

You told him how you’d found your other friends and for a while it was fun, until they walked in. And for a while it was calm until after twenty minutes things went from zero to sixty. Your date had tried to apologise to you, along with your ex-best friend. They told you about how so in love they were and how it was just meant to be even though they never wanted to hurt you. After that, chaos kinda ensued. You’d told them how it had hurt and planned to leave. That was when you’d text Tyler.

But then your ex-date caught you outside. He’d apologised and told you your friend had surprised him that day in the coffee shop since he thought he was there to discuss you. Then he tried to make a pass at you. But you’d put a stop to that before his hands could touch you. Then your friend found out about the pass when her date went back inside with a reddened cheek and stormed outside. It all kicked off before the teachers came outside to break up the fight and took them all inside.

“I was just thankful to get out of there.”

“I don’t blame you but if you’d have told me-”

“You would have stormed inside and done more than what I did. Tyler, I handled it. It’s okay. But, please don’t tell my brother. Or my folks. I don’t need anyone starting a duel to defend my honour or some shit.”

“Okay, but if he ever so much as looks in your direction again-”

“Then you can do with him as you see fit. Just nothing illegal. I don’t want to visit you in prison.”

Tyler chuckled. “Deal.”

Neither your folks or your brother knew what actually happened on your prom night. Just that you had a good time. You never told them that Tyler had picked you back up or that you’d been sitting in the parking lot eating ice cream before he asked you to dance.

And Tyler, as promised, never told them.

That night, despite its beginnings, was a memory you cherished. And continued to do so.

Little did you know, your future held so many more.

Just a little over five years later, you’d long since finished your degree and had gone on to work as an EMT. Tyler had also graduated from college himself, swapping out getting his head stomped on by bulls for learning everything he could about the weather and chasing tornadoes.

However, despite work, there was something neither of you missed. And that was the yearly road trip to your parents cabin. It was surrounded by rolling hills and was at least forty minutes from any small town stores. And since Tyler had indirectly joined your family when your brother met him in fifth grade, he and his family had been invited to join each year.

However, where you would usually travel with your folks and your brother, your brother was travelling up with his girlfriend and you didn’t feel like third wheeling your parents.

“You can ride with Tyler,” your mom told you as she turned towards Tyler’s mom who was sitting with her at the kitchen table.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” His mom replied. “Oh, it’ll give you kids a chance to catch up.”

“I don’t mind driving myself-”

“What’s going on?”

Tyler's mom smiled up at him as he walked inside and kissed her on the cheek. “We were just saying Y/n could ride with you. There’s no point in all of us taking our cars and it’ll give you kids a chance to catch up.”

Tyler just smiled. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“You sure?”

Tyler nodded. “Want help packing your stuff into the back?”

You didn’t know why you were a little shocked. This was Tyler. If he was anything with you it was helpful.

So, the next day just as the sun was starting to peak out over the fields, you all clambered into each of your respected vehicles and started the seven hour drive to the cabin.

It took all of an hour before you and Tyler started talking about the two things you’d both been avoiding for the last two days. Talking about your break-ups.

You knew Tyler had been dating a girl he’d met at the rodeo. She’d been working at one of the food stalls with her family for years and once he started college, they’d run into each other. From what you knew, they seemed deeply in love.

Until two weeks ago when your mom let it slip over your weekly phone call that they’d split up.

You didn’t quite know what to say at the time. There were a lot of mixed emotions; why did they break up? Was it for good or was it just a break? Did she break up with him? Why would she? No girl would ever get much better than Tyler. Or did he break up with her?

Meanwhile, a week later you’d come home to a surprise break up. Your boyfriend’s things were all packed up and he was waiting on the sofa for you to come home. You’d asked what was going on and then he dropped the bomb on you. He’d lost feelings for you, a few months ago, but couldn’t find it in his heart to leave you. You asked if there was someone else and he denied it. And, to his statement, he was yet to post a new girlfriend on any social media page.

You’d unfollowed him, but your roommate from college was keeping tabs on him.

“Do they know yet?”

You looked over at Tyler. “Know what?”

“That you and Richard broke up.”

You looked at him, a little shocked. “How do you know?”

“You’ve been avoiding the questions, same as me.” Tyler told you. “Does anyone know?”

You sighed and shook your head. “You’re the first.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You wanna talk about yours?”

Tyler shrugged. “They say it’s better out than in.”

“They also say that about a fart, but you know.”

Tyler chuckled at your statement as you turned and looked out of the window at other cars passing by on your right.

“Did she break up with you?” You asked, turning back to look at Tyler. You didn’t want to talk about yours much, but you still had questions about his.

Tyler was quiet before he nodded. “Yeah. I’d kinda seen it coming. We hadn’t been talking as much as we used to and it wasn’t like a comfortable silence either.”

“How are you feeling after all of it?”

“Well, it hurts, but I’m gettin’ there. How about you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know. I think I’m more hurt I didn’t see it coming. Just…came home and he told me he’d lost feelings for me months ago. Worst part is, I didn’t even notice. But the more I think about it, the more I noticed what I’d missed.” You took a deep breath. “But, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Do you still love him?”

You thought about it for a long moment and Tyler couldn’t ignore the slight stabbing pain in his chest as he waited for you to answer. Did you still love him?

“Ask me again in a month.”

Tyler just nodded.

The rest of the drive covered almost every topic of conversation twice and not once did either of you get bored. Every couple of hours Tyler pulled into a gas station and you’d take a break. You had offered to drive but Tyler had declined. You didn’t quite know why since you had driven his truck before.

“Ready to go?”

Twenty minutes later on the road, you and Tyler were in a relaxed conversation when the sky started to change. It had gone from a cloudy blue sky to a swirling grey colour that seemed a lot darker in the distance.

“Is that?”

You leaned forward, pulling your seatbelt with you in order to look out of the front window.

Above the sky in front of you, you watched the clouds swirl around itself before a small vortex started to slowly lower down.

And you were mesmerised.

“Wow. That’s beautiful.”

Tyler’s eyes turned from the tornado to you. And he couldn’t look away. The traffic had come to a stop, waiting to see if it would land on the ground or not. And still, Tyler couldn’t take his eyes from you. And in that moment, his mind took a mental picture of you. One that would pop up over the years just before he’d fall asleep.

The tornado might have been beautiful but you…

You were gorgeous.

Your expression both intrigued and mesmerised at once. Before, you’d looked a little sullen, still grieving your relationship. But now, sitting there, looking at you, Tyler saw you alive. It was the same look in your eyes that you used to get when you were all kids. Excited, eger, ready. That last time he’d seen you look like this was at your graduation. He’d heard it in your voice when you’d call him every once in a while and he’d ask you about your job.

But he was finally seeing it again.

However, he didn’t have a chance to look for too long because you were turning to look back at him just as the wind started to whistle outside. Most of your family were long past the tornado so they would be safe.

You watched Tyler, watching the tornado. You didn’t know what he was seeing but whatever it was, he was calculating something. And without another word, he turned his engine back on and turned his truck off the highway.

Suddenly, Tyler was driving past the speed limit down a backroad. Far behind you, the sky only seemed to grow darker and the wind was only getting louder.

“Tyler-”

“Cars’ll only start flying. It’s safer out here but we need to find someplace in case it decides to shift.”

He was right. You knew he was right.

At the end of the backroad, it wasn’t too far from a motel and community swimming pool. Tyler threw on the handbrake before you both hopped out and ran towards the office door. The darkened sky was travelling in your direction.

“Do you have a shelter?”

The owner behind the desk looked around just as the shutters outside started to rattle. “Yes, I do. Follow me.”

“Is anyone else here-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

From behind the desk, she pulled a fire alarm that rang out through the entire motel. Then everyone started running, following the owner to the storm shelter a little further out in the field.

Tyler made sure you were in front of him as the doors opened up and he helped you down inside before helping the others. And for a moment, that felt like too long, you were slowly slipping into a panic. He wasn’t inside yet.

But when he was and the owner slipped the bolts across the door, you hugged him tight.

“Hey, come on. Stay down here.”

Without a second thought, Tyler pulled you down to sit on the floor behind one of the shelves.

“Hopefully it’ll just miss us.”

You just looked up at Tyler as he looked back at you, your hands tight on his shirt as his arms wrapped around you. The wind only started to get louder. Someone screamed when the door rattled and everyone got down and held onto anything they could just in case.

But Tyler just held onto you.

Tyler could feel your hands trembling as you held onto him. So, raking a hand down your hair, he held you closer. “We’re safe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

By the time everything went deadly silent, you didn’t know whether it was because the tornado had stopped or if you had lost all sense of hearing. Your heartbeat had been drumming in your ears after hearing Tyler’s voice close to you.

“We’re safe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

However, when you all started to finally emerge from the shelter, rather than a feat of destruction, you found the grassy field’s upended, some stray pieces of fences and spare garage parts – none which looked close to being from one car itself. And the tornado had swung around the entire motel itself.

By the time you and Tyler loaded yourselves back into his truck, he turned and looked over at you. “You okay-”

You hugged him. Just like you had done when he came and picked you up on Prom night. You held him tight.

“Thank you.”

He held you back, his hand rubbing up and down your back for a moment. “You okay?”

You sat back and nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

Tyler watched you for a moment before reaching into his glove box where he pulled out one of the packets he bought from the gas station. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Sour candy. They’ll help with the nerves.”

You just looked at Tyler perplexed.

“The sourness…it helps distract the brain from any anxiety. Supposedly. Not quite sure if doctors have written medical journals about it but…it’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler nodded, “Get your seatbelt on. We should be able to make it before dinner.”

Driving back towards the highway, Tyler had to double back on himself before finding a new way out. By the looks of it, not too many people had gotten hurt. Some bumps and bruises but the tornado had done most of its damages on the fields.

With an extra hour of traffic on top of your estimated arrival time, Tyler’s truck pulled up outside the cabin just as the smell of a barbecue floated down from the top deck.

“Where did you kids get to?”

“It’s a long story, mom.” You kissed her cheek as she came running outside to meet you and Tyler.

“Did you get lost?”

Tyler shook his head, “Tornado hit us after the second pit spot. Had to take a detour.”

“Oh, my goodness. Are you both okay?”

“We’re fine, mom. Just tired.”

In the days that followed, you kept your eyes on news articles talking about the tornado that had hit you and Tyler. He explained everything he knew about them, and after a ride into the small town and a pit stop at a coffee shop, you decided to pull up some videos of Tyler’s tornado chases.

Your brother had told you about it in passing, but you’d thought he’d been kidding. You knew Tyler had put together a team and in the summer months would drive up and down tornado alley, chasing each tornado they found.

But you didn’t think it was anything like what you were watching.

You didn’t think it was anything like what you got caught watching.

“Pretty cool, huh.” Tyler appeared over your shoulder, placing a coffee cup down beside you. You hadn’t even heard them call your name. Had you really been that distracted?

Tyler then stepped around you and sat across from you.

“Do you really do this for a living?”

Tyler nodded. “Pretty much. I teach a couple community college classes in the off-seasons. Presented the weather a couple times for the local report. But, it’s looking good so far.”

“How do you do it? How do you drive into one of these things?”

Tyler felt something in his chest bloom as he saw how you looked at him. Intrigued. Plenty of people had judged him, called him an idiot for doing so. But they were also the same people who called him an idiot for being a bull-rider.

“Well, how do you run into a crisis to help people?” He asked you. You were an EMT. He knew that. He’d also heard some of your terror stories, as well as the funny ones.

“Because it’s my job.”

“Aren’t you scared when you do it?” He asked you and you shook your head. “Well, that’s what it’s like. You don’t face your fears. You ride ‘em.”

You felt yourself smile. “Always with the cowboy wisdom.”

Tyler just smirked and you felt a small chaos of butterflies in your stomach. “It came with the hat.”

By the time that stay was over, you were a lot more relaxed than you were when you’d first arrived home. And your heart wasn’t hurting as much as you thought it would have been.

“You should come with me.”

“What?” You turned and looked at Tyler, unsure of what he meant since neither of you had talked for about an hour. You’d just let the country songs on the radio wash over you both as cars sped past you both, clearly in a bigger hurry than you and Tyler.

Part of you was glad he was taking his time getting back home. There were still plenty of hours left on the road without any traffic, but the time away with Tyler had made you realise something. You missed him. His smile, his voice first thing in the morning before coffee, his company over said coffee.

Unknown to you, he was purposely taking his time. He’d missed you too, and he’d be damned if he rushed what time he had left with you.

“You should come with me,” he repeated. “Us. My team and I…” He checked the road in front of him before looking back at you for a moment. “We’re gonna be chasing again soon. There’s meant to be an outbreak in Tornado Alley soon. You should come with us.”

“Tyler-”

“Just think on it,” he told you, his eyes secretly pleading with you to consider it. “I’ve seen you watching our videos. And some of our rivals, which I’m gonna ignore, but-” Tyler smiled. “You should come with us. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Tyer knew he would.

You watched him, looking between you and the road. You’d probably never tell anyone out loud, but you wanted to. It was true – since that tornado hit the motel, you’d felt yourself getting hooked. The thrill you felt in your bones, the laughter that encapsulated your lungs before things became serious. It was the same thrill that made you want to do your job.

But there was also the other thing.

Tyler.

You’d have this time with him, in his space. With his friends. Within his life. Even if just for the day. You’d be with him, without the watchful eyes of your entire family. You wouldn’t have to worry if your brother spotted just how differently you looked at Tyler compared to other guys. You wouldn’t have to worry about your parents worrying about you – they worried enough about you and you were the one that helped people. Being an EMT puts you in a myriad of different situations, everyday. And they not only liked Tyler, they trusted him.

And so did you.

So, you said yes.

A little over four years later, you were still with Tyler and his team. Not only that, you were a part of the team. It had taken one season of chasing with them to know you wanted to do it again. So, taking as many extra shifts you could away from tornado season, you’d join them on the road in season.

Bumps, injuries, cuts, bruises, splinters – anything and everything – you fixed. Whether it was for the team or if it was for the general public when the team would head in to help with the aftermath, you helped out where you could and who you could.

“Shit,”

You sat up from the camper chair. “What? What happened?”

Boone appeared from behind Tyler’s truck, holding out his hand to try and see it in the light better. “Splinter. I think.”

Putting down the beer, you stood and walked over to him. “Let me see.” Boone placed his hand up right in your palm. “Yeah. Kate, can you pass me the zipper kit?”

From the side of your camper chair, she handed it over to you. Zipping open the hard case, you let it rest open on the side of Tyler’s truck before taking out a pair of tweezers.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, just say- ow!”

You smiled, holding up the wooden splinter. “Got it.”

“What happened to a countdown?” Boone said before sucking on the side of his finger.

You just looked at him. “Last time I gave you a countdown you pulled your hand away and I had to get Dani and Tyler to hold you still.”

“That’s because it hurt!”

“Well, it’s out now. Just be careful.”

Boone nodded. “I will. Thanks, Doc.”

You smiled, packing your things away. “You’re welcome.”

Twenty minutes later, you heard your name being called from the balcony of the motel.

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

You looked up and found Tyler leaning over the balcony.

“Can you come up here a second? I need you for…something.”

You didn’t like the sound of that ‘something’ so grabbing your travel med bag from the back seat of his truck, you headed up to his room.

You knocked on the door twice before entering. “Ty? You okay?”

“I don’t want you to get mad-”

“What did you do?”

Tyler fully emerged from the bathroom and held up his hand and you gasped. “Tyler.”

“It was purely an accident. I was tryna’ fix one of my truck parts and it got caught.”

“Jesus, come here. Tyler, this is deep. Are you sure you just caught it?”

Tyler nodded, hissing as your fingers pressed lightly into his palm. “Yes. Ow, hey, that hurts.”

You sighed, pulling him back into the bathroom behind you. Accidently slamming the toilet seat down, you twirled Tyler around you feeling his fingers brush against your back as you pushed him to sit down. Throwing the tap on, you shoved his hand underneath it and held it there.

Muttering to yourself as you cleaned up his wound, Tyler watched you. The attentive and focused look in your eyes. Every now and again he’d hear you repeat his words, doing an impression of his voice, quietly under your breath and he’d laugh. This hadn’t been the first time he’d gotten hurt, and he doubted it would be the last. But if it meant he got this time with you; the quiet moments, the mocking tone out of worry masked by anger, the ability to take a long lasting mental image of you before the imprint of you on his skin and heart sunk deeper.

Then he’d put up with the pain.

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?” The soft smile from Tyler’s face didn’t drop.

“Lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you lo-” You managed to stop yourself before you said the rest of the sentence out loud. Like you love me. You knew he would reply and your heart wasn’t ready for the truth – whatever the truth was these days.

Some days you’d catch him looking at you and there would be this look. It was in his eyes and his smile. It was different, compared to the way he looked at everyone else. Maybe it was just because he’d known you longer, or some psycho-freud thing where a patient falls in love with their nurse. Either way, for a moment, you’d let yourself believe it was what you thought it was. That he did feel the same. That he did get the same tornado of butterflies in his belly whenever he looked at you.

“Like I what?” Tyler pressed, his expression dropping for just a moment as he leaned in. Could you see it? Could you see the way he was looking at you?

For a moment, you held his gaze. His green gaze bore into yours as your eyes flicked around his face, From each of his eyes and down to the curve of his lips. And just as you let the wall in your mind slip in front of him, you remembered why you were there.

His hand. The blood. The water.

Shaking your head, you stood up from the wooden desk chair you’d pulled inside when you went back for your medical bag. Clearing your throat, you shook your head.

“Nothing, just…like that. I can’t work properly when…when you watch me.”

Tyler sat back, the smile slowly coming back onto his face. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled quietly before flicking your eyes back to his for a moment. And he looked back. Again, for a moment, you let the wall in your mind slip.

But you were there to help him.

Looking away, Tyler looked away, too and shifted in his seat. Every now and again, you’d hear him hiss and you’d apologise loud enough for him to hear. Twenty minutes later, you were done and finally wrapping his hand.

But, you took your time. Not only to be safe with the cut but also because there was just something about having Tyler’s hand in yours. His touch, you didn’t know when or how, had made an imprint on you. On your skin, on your head, on your heart.

Tyler’s fingers held onto yours for a moment as you tucked the final piece of bandage into place.

“There you go,” you said, quietly.

“Thanks.”

And you both just stayed like that for a while. No talking, just touch. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him in fear that, if you did, the wall in your head would completely fall and you’d never be able to get it back up again.

Tyler was your best friend. The person you told the most to. He was also your brother’s best friend. And your team mate.

When you finally did speak, it seemed to come out in a whisper. You told him how to keep his palm dry for a few days. You’d check on it every now and then but he should be okay in a week's time.

“We better get back.”

You eventually nodded, wishing you didn’t have to.

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?” Kate asked as you came and sat back next to her, Tyler hurrying to the other side of his truck to replace the piece he’d been fixing.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Only, by the time you all headed to bed, you couldn’t sleep. The feeling of Tyler’s hand was still tingling on your skin and every time you closed your eyes, the look in Tyler’s eyes was staring right back at you.

So, finally pulling the covers from you, you wrapped yourself in your short dressing gown, slipped on your shoes and opened up your motel door.

And for a while, you stood out on the balcony. Everyone in the lot was in bed, fast asleep. A gentle breeze was passing through but the heat of the day was still hovering in the air. Nothing but fields surrounded the motel so away from the dim lights dotted around the parking lot, the only thing that provided any real light was the moon hanging in the sky, along with the dusting of stars.

However, just as your mind was beginning to clear of one certain green-eyed cowboy scientist, a door opened from down the hall.

At its entrance, Tyler stood in a plain white t-shirt and some long cotton pajama bottoms. His hair wasn’t as neat as it was earlier, but it wasn’t stuck out completely either.

Clearly, he couldn’t sleep, either.

“Hey.” your voice was quiet as he looked up at you.

“Oh, hey. What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You answered honestly. There was no point trying to lie to him, not that you could think of a plausible lie at that moment. Tyler always had this magical power to read you when you didn’t want him to. “What about you?”

Tyler slowly walked until he stood beside you, leaning against the railing with you. “Same story. Wanna talk about it?”

You turned away from him. “Not particularly.”

“You sure? You’ve got that I’m-tryna-make-sure-Tyler-won’t-read-me look about you. Gotta be serious if you’re looking like that.”

“How do you do that?” you asked him. “How can you read me like that?”

Tyler just shrugged with a smile. “That’s the thing, Sweetheart. I just can.”

“Very smooth.”

Tyler gave a breathy chuckle. “So? What’re you tryna keep from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You shook your head, trying your best to hide your smile. “Nothing. Really. It’s not something you can help me with.”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

You tried not to smile too much so you kept your eyes from his, keeping your gaze on your chipped nail polish. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You didn’t know when he’d first called you ‘sweetheart’, just that he was the only one who ever called you that and that he’d done it for years. You were also the only one he used that nickname with so it wasn’t long before you answered to it.

And that every time you heard him call you that, the gentle butterflies in your stomach would start swirling and fluttering their way into an EF-3.

You had to find a way to change the subject, to turn his attention away from you. At least for a little while, before the moon moved higher and shone directly down onto you like a large spotlight.

“How’s your hand doin’?”

Tyler flipped it over. “Good. I think. It’s not hurtin’ too bad. Bandage might be a little loose, but-”

“Show me.”

Tyler’s hand was back in yours as you stood in front of him, checking the bandage over. It was coming loose, a little.

“It should hold til the morning,” you told him after tightening it. “Then I can clean it again and change them out.”

Tyler nodded, taking advantage of the time he had with your hand back in his. “Okay.”

Carefully, his fingers closed over yours and he stepped a little closer.

You could feel his gaze on you and it only made your heart quicken. Your hand in his, you didn’t want to let go. But you knew you had to.

“Tyler…”

“Y/n, look at me.” You couldn’t bring yourself to do as much. You knew if you did, you wouldn’t want to look away. “Sweetheart, please look at me.”

With a breath, you forced your head up to look at him. Even in the moonlight, even with the long day and tiredness behind his eyes, even in his pajamas on a rickety old balcony…

Tyler was still as handsome as ever.

And you were so deeply, madly, stupidly in love with him.

Tyler’s other hand itched to touch you, to reach up and brush the wild strands away from your face, to cup your jaw. And it did.

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Tyler held your gaze to his and he lightly shook his head. “Sweetheart, the only thing I could regret in this moment would be to walk away right now. Not without asking you this.”

You were both quiet for a moment, waiting for Tyler’s heartbeat to calm down in his chest for a moment to let him speak freely.

“If I kissed you right now…would you run away?”

If it was anyone else, if it was any other day, you would have taken longer to answer. You would have taken time to answer before, probably, saying ‘yes’ – no matter how much you wanted to say ‘no’.

But the wall had broken.

Not even broken. It had been shattered into a million pieces. And you didn’t have time to rebuild it. Not that, after his question, you would even want to.

So, before you can stop to think. Before you can stop your heart from answering before your head, you spoke.

“No.”

You wouldn’t run away.

You wouldn’t want to run away.

You felt your breath hitch in your chest as he moved closer, his thumb caressing your skin. Whatever silence had been passing in your ears was suddenly gone, replaced with your heartbeat.

If he didn’t kiss you soon, you might die.

But if he did, you’d probably still die.

Finally, he did as much.

It was soft. New. And yet somehow…right.

You leaned in closer, kissing him back. With a contented sigh, your lips parted ever so slightly and he took the opening. Tasting your lips for the first time was a feeling that would forever be imprinted in his memory. Mint from your toothpaste but something…sweet.

Your back bumped against one of the metal rods set every few paces above the metal railing of the balcony. Tyler’s hand pushed through to the back of your head, his entire being practically swallowing you whole in the darkness.

Reaching up, you pulled him closer by his neck, a soft groan rippling from his chest. You tried your best to ignore the ache it gave you in between your legs.

Before you knew it, your back was no longer against the metal rods outside your room, but rather up against the back of your motel door as it closed behind both you and Tyler.

His hands were everywhere, and you still couldn’t get enough of his touch. Carefully, his hands slid down your body, tugging you in by your hips before his palms came under your ass and lifted you against the door. Your legs wrapped around him as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

And, technically, you had.

Just never in this position. Or in this situation.

Your heart beat out of your chest and Tyler could feel it. Under his tongue, he found your pulse. It was going almost as fast as his. A small moan left your throat as he sucked and nibbled at your pulse point, all before softening it with his tongue.

Pushing his face back to yours, you pushed a searing kiss against his mouth as your hands tracked through his hair. He was careful when carrying you over to your bed, slowly laying you down as he climbed over you.

His hands pushed down your thighs until he was met with your dressing robe. And for a moment, he leaned up and broke the kiss.

He made light work of untying your robe and by the time it fell open, despite the face you still had your pajamas on, he was looking at you like he’d just found pure gold. Slowly, his fingers traced up your body as he pushed the robe from your shoulders.

Your legs spread wider for him as he knelt up to take you in.

“If you wanna stop at any point-”

“I won’t.”

Tyler looked directly in your eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s important to me that I have your consent. If, at any point, you wanna stop. We will. You have my word on that.”

You sat up on your elbows, your gaze not breaking from his. “I trust you, Tyler. And consent goes both ways.”

A small smirk came to his face. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this. I have no plan on stopping if you don’t want me to.”

“Good. Because I don’t either.”

Reaching up, you pulled him in to kiss you again, and he got to work. Removing your robe, you came to kneel on the bed along with him. Eventually he threw the robe across the room, just before you pushed him down and straddled his lap.

As you did so, he helped you remove his shirt and he couldn’t help but take a mental image of you as you took one of your own.

You’d known Tyler was muscular. He was a bull rider once, but that mostly sent your eyes looking at his ass and thighs when you weren’t looking for cuts and bruises. But the chest and arm muscles on this man…maybe you’d been looking at the wrong part of him all these years.

But, he did have a nice ass.

“You okay there, darlin’?” Tyler drawled.

“How the fuck-”

Tyler chuckled, his fingers deftly tracing up and down your spine. “It’s a lot of lifting and protein, mostly.”

You didn’t know what else to say as you looked back at him. Leaning in, you kissed him again.

As one of his hands pushed through your hair, your own trailed down his body before you started working at the drawstring of his pants.

You squealed a little as he flipped you onto your back, and a small laugh left both of you before he started to rid himself of the bottom half of his clothing. Then he pulled yours down. They, too, got tossed somewhere else across the room.

As he leaned over you, you hooked one of your legs around him and pulled him closer. You could feel his smile in his kiss. And as you shifted a little under him, you felt the hardness of him push against you.

With your hand, you palmed his cock before letting your fingers run down its shaft. Tyler’s kiss became stronger as you carefully wrapped your hand around him, pumping up and down.

His body jerked as a groan left him. And when he saw that wicked glint in your eye as you lay under him, your pussy only growing wetter for him, a deep groan fell from his lips.

“Fuck, baby.” Tyler growled below your ear and into your neck.

Leaning closer, he started to nibble at your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on your. Finally, his fingers slipped down your front and pushed your legs further apart.

His fingers ran down your folds before bringing your wetness to circle around your clit. With a little pressure, he continued to circle his fingers around as your hips bucked, his cock getting its first touch of your pussy.

You pushed yourself up until you were straddling him once more. And with his help, you slowly lowered yourself down onto him. A small whimper left your lips as you eased yourself down his shaft.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

You pulled up a little, hearing a strangled groan from Tyler as his fingers bit into your flesh.

Once more, you eased yourself onto him. With your eyes locked on his, he pecked a kiss to your lips.

“Take what you need, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

You started off slow at first, circling your hips. Eventually, you picked up the pace as Tyler’s head dropped to your chest. He could feel you pulsating against him, getting ready for more. And if it wasn’t more than he ever dreamed of…

“Fuck, Sweetheart. You’re too good at this.”

Continuing to circle in his lap, his hips bucking against yours begging for more, your hand fisted his hair and pulled his head back. Leaving his neck exposed, you leaned forward and left your own mark for him to discover in the morning before finally kissing his lips.

Softly biting his bottom lip, your fingers relaxed and slid down the back of his neck before softening the sting with your tongue. You felt Tyler’s finger bit deliciously into your skin as he reached for your thighs and pulled up closer to him.

“Baby, fuck.”

Leaning in closer, you let your tongue slip into his mouth as you kissed him. With the kiss becoming wet and hot all at once, you slowly lifted yourself from him.

“Baby, I need you to keep- oh. Fuck. That-that’s it, Sweetheart.” Tyler watched as you slowly rode him, his cock pumping in and out of your glistening cunt. “Fuck. You’re taking me so well.”

You moaned, feeling his fingers trace your body as you circled your hips once more, his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Sweetheart, can I touch you?”

“Yes.” You hissed the word, your head falling back for a moment as your cheeks flushed and your body begged for more.

Slowly, his fingers slid between the tops of your folds before finding your clit. A loud moan escaped your throat and by the time you looked back at Tyler you found a tender yet smug smile on his face. “You like that, baby?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you want me to do it again?”

He kept a small pressure on your clit, but refused to move his fingers until you answered him again. You swallowed thickly before nodding. And for a moment, his fingers teased you, tapping gently at you. Then he stopped.

“I need your words, darlin’. Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes. Please,” you begged him.

Finally, his fingers moved, applying a gentle pressure before curling you. Your hips bucked. He could feel your walls beginning to clench around him as you tried your best to keep a steady rhythm.

“Take what you need, darlin’.”

His fingers pushed deeper inside you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaking.”

You felt Tyler’s free hand push back up your thigh before rounding your ass and pulling you down on him once more and squeezing.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, sweetheart.”

Finally, his lips were against yours, his tongue dipping in and out of your mouth as he kissed you, only to leave you wanting more.

A soft moan gargled at the back of your throat as you held onto his shoulders, deepening his kiss and letting him stuff you with his cock.

Pulling his hand from your folds, you let out a whimper before a groan as he switched hands. And with some of your wetness still coating his fingers, his hand traced up your sides before rubbing slowly against your pebbled nipple.

With guttural moans, groans and gasps, your eyes locked onto Tyler’s as he kept you riding through your high before you felt him empty himself inside of you.

Your gasp and moan was muffled with his searing kiss once more, his hand coming to the back of your head to keep your lips locked onto his.

Eventually, the room settled with heavy breaths and closed eyes. Your forehead resting against his, his cock still inside of you, he just held you there for a few minutes.

“Did you mean it?”

Tyler, with heavy breaths, leaned back to look at you. “Did I mean what?”

“That you’d been dreaming about this?”

Tyler swallowed, a little nervously, but his eyes never left you. His clean fingers pushed the stay hairs from your head as he did so.

“Every word.”

“How long?”

Tyler couldn’t give you a date. He just knew… “A long time.”

You didn’t say anything. But you did lean down and kiss him. It was tender, this time. Soft and kind. Tyler was careful when flipping you over to lay down on the mattress. And he was careful still when he pulled himself out of you.

“Stay there. I’ll help clean you up.”

It was the first time it had happened, but you stayed where you were, watching as Tyler pulled his pajama bottoms back on and walked across to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a warm cloth and with soft kisses pressed against your belly and hips, he helped clean you up.

“Tyler?”

He looked up from where he was knelt by your feet. “Hm?”

“Promise me…promise me this isn’t just a one time thing.” He looked at you a little confused, but you looked away. “Because…you mean a lot to me, Ty. More than you know. And I…I don’t think my heart can take this just being casual.”

Tyler’s eyes remained on yours, despite the fact you weren’t looking at him. So, putting his hand up to your face, he made you look at him.

“Sweetheart, I don’t plan on this being a casual one-time thing. I’m too madly in love with you to do something like that.”

“You are?”

Tyler smiled, a little relief resting behind his eyes. He’d waited years to finally tell you.

“For a long time. I don’t know when it changed, but I know it did. So, I promise. This is not a one time thing.”

“You’re really in love with me?”

Tyler chuckled. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed by now. Pretty sure Kate’s got a wager with Boone on how long it would take for you to notice.”

“So earlier…when you were looking at me…”

Tyler nodded, the soft smile never leaving his face. “Yeah. Because I do. I do love you, Y/n.”

Your eyes tracked over his face. Nothing but truth.

Tyler could physically see the weight fly off your shoulders. “I’m in love with you, too, Tyler.”

One look at your face, and Tyler knew he didn’t have to question it. So, leaning up, he pressed a kiss to your lips as you fell backwards and pulled him with you.

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whoreash · 6 days ago

Text

superglue ──★ ˙🍓 ̟

“sae?” the words leave you like a whisper, afraid to scare your, highly, unwell, boyfriend.

while you would have preferred an answer, the silence engulfed you— your face, practically, moulding into the door as you try to hear for any signs of danger, or anger, or sadness.

although, you didn’t, really, know what you were, exactly, searching for— as, well, you’ve never had to deal with drunk sae. until now, that is.

and, god knows what type of drunk he was. it seemed even his teammates, that hurried him into your apartment, were cautious and foreign to sae in this state. so, you tried giving him space, letting the sobriety slowly seep in.

but, now, with a bathroom door in front of you, that’s been locked for 17 minutes, you were starting to get obnoxiously worried and… curious.

“princess?” the nickname woke sae up instantly, hand flinging to the door handle and opening it, ever so slightly, with squinted eyes. a small ‘ah’ escaped your lips, as you, finally, saw his overly messy hair and flushed cheeks, in full glory.

“i— i told you not to call me that,”

his words were, so apparently, slurred even through the attempts of trying to clear his throat. it was, almost, cute— no, very cute. the slowness and coarseness of his words making your own mind swirl with a daze. although, one thing that didn’t change during sae’s intoxication was his direct, clear eye contact that burnt into your skull.

“it got your attention, though, didn’t it?”

the door, in return, closed on you instantly.

okay, so he’s sensitive— no harsh words. console, comfort and reassure. no jokes and, definitely, no bad nicknames.

“hey— sae, baby, come on,” you knock on the door, again, with just the tip of your knuckles, coaxing him to you, in measured movements. “sae, remember the last time i was drunk? do you remember what helped me?”

of course, he remembered the most restless night of his life— but, somehow, your small ‘baby’s’ succumbed him to the thought of it. the feeling of a snug bed that let his heavy head drop, and the feeling of your scent around him seemed to captivate sae’s mind more than the alcohol did.

“cuddling in bed naked,”

which is exactly how you ended up together, tangled in the duvet with just underwear on and sae’s head in the crook of your neck. ironic where he ended up today, when last time this happened he was complaining the whole way through about clammy bodies, clingy arms and mismatched sleep rhythms. this will, definitely, be brought up in the morning, when he’s not so delicate and vulnerable— a true royal princess.

“want to tell me why you’re so drunk?”

silence. for ten seconds. then twenty. then thirty.

“was scared,”

“what could you, possibly, be scared of itoshi sae?”

“losing you.”

you didn’t ask any further questions after that, although you contemplated it, you also knew how unwilling sae would be to answer them, and, anyways, he was asleep in the next minute or so. instead, you, carefully, held onto him all night, through all the clammy bodies and odd sleeping rhythms.

you hoped that he’d get the hint, and when he woke up with your sweaty arms on him— this time he accepted it with slight reluctance.

note : this is in honour of me getting role model tickets a day after my birthday!! anyways, apologies for not being active like AT ALL, exam season has been killing me and also,,, grinding genshin oops <3. thankfully, exams finish in two weeks so i will be back super soon with a new chapter for evermore!!

#fluff #x reader #bllk fluff #drabble #blue lock #bllk sae #sae itoshi #sae x reader #sae #blue lock sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #role model #cute #adorable

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jjscrybaby · 6 months ago

Note

rafe or jj request!

his girl gets into a minor car accident and she calls him because she needs him.

maybe while he’s away for work or after they got into a fight — honestly anything angsty where he takes care of her 🤍 love your writing xx

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (car accident, blood, stitches.)

thankyou baby!!! hope this is okay, i’m sick atm so not got a whole lot of energy to put into finding out info and stuff so i tried to rush past the hospital side of things😭

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You’d never gone this long without talking to your boyfriend; three days. You felt ridiculous at this point, but at the same time your point had been valid. You and JJ hadn’t gotten to spend any time together over the last few weeks, not since he started this ridiculous treasure hunt with John B and his other friends.

It wasn’t that you weren’t friends with the Pogues, you were, but not close enough to be involved. You’d tried, and even Kiara had invited you over with them a couple times too, but JJ always said no. It was dangerous, he’d say. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d enjoy — and maybe he was right. Except, not getting to be apart of it meant you didn’t see him, and your final straw was when he was late to your anniversary dinner.

That was three days ago, and you hadn’t spoken since. The blowout had been crazy, you accused him of not putting in enough effort and he went on the defence and said you were being dramatic, that this was for John B. You understood that, you did, but you hadn’t gotten in this relationship to be second place.

Kiara ended up drinking too much at a kegger, and you had the honour of going to pick her up and drive her home. You were on your way back to your place, still wearing just your pyjama pants and one of JJ’s shirts, when a car swerved around the corner and hit right into you. Your head smacked against the wheel and you groaned in pain, pressing your fingertips to the place you felt blood oozing from.

“Shit, shit! Are you okay?” There was a girl banging on your window, whilst also turning back to the car and yelling at the boy behind the wheel.

“I’m fine,” you groaned, you didn’t feel fine. You felt dizzy and nauseous, your neck ached and your head hurt even worse.

“You’re bleeding pretty bad, let’s get you to the hospital and then we’ll deal with insurance.”

She drove you to the hospital in her car, leaving yours on the side of the road. She gave you her details and then left, leaving you alone in the chemically smelling place with blood covering your face. You got seen almost immediately, they needed to check for a concussion or brain damage. You did have a concussion, and you had to get stitches.

“Do you have anyone you can call, sweetheart?” The nurse asked you once she’d finished up.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You didn’t care that you were mad at JJ, you needed him right now. You pulled your phone out and dialled his number, praying he’d answer.

“Hello?” He sounded irritated, he’d probably put it on just to talk to you.

“JJ?” A wave of emotion hit you, your voice coming out shaky.

“Hey, you okay?” The irritation washed away, he sounded worried now. Worried and guilty; he probably thought you were crying over him, maybe you were.

“I’m— I’m in the hospital, can you come and get me,” you croaked out, wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve.

“What?” He exclaimed. You could hear him rustling about, presumably trying to find the keys to the Twinkie. “What’dya mean, baby? What happened?”

“I got in an accident,” you explained quietly. “A car came out of nowhere, I hit my head on the wheel.”

He cursed under his breath, the sound of the door slamming closed came through the phone as he ran outside the Chateau. You could hear the engine to the camper-van start up, spluttering to life.

“Gonna be there soon, alright sweetheart? Want me to stay on the phone?” He offered gently, although you could hear the anger in his voice that he was trying to hide.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

JJ talked to you as he drove, telling you how much he loved you, how sorry he is for not being there with you. You weren’t really listening, to focused on the pain you felt in your head and the anxiety over being in the hospital. It didn’t take long for JJ to be walking into the room, a worried expression on his face as he knelt down in front of you and held your face gently in his hands.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted softly, eyes scanning the stitches just above your eyebrow. “How many did y’have to get?”

“A few,” you murmured, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “How bad does it look?”

He shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “Still hot as hell, baby. Don’t gotta worry about that.”

JJ spoke to the doctor, booking an appointment for you to come in and get your stitches out, and the two of you left. You complained about your car and having to go and get it, but he reassured you it would still be there in the morning; “the thing’s a piece of junk, no one’s gonna want to steal that.”

He took you to the Chateau, instantly dragging you into his bedroom before John B could see you and go protective-mode over the stitches. He figured that would just give you a headache, and that was the last thing you needed right now.

“C’mere, honey,” he murmured, opening his arms for you to crawl into. You wanted to be stubborn, continue with your fight and refuse, but you didn’t have the energy. You laid on his chest, his arms tightening around you. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I should’ve been there, if we weren’t in this stupid fight I would have.”

“It’s not your fault, Jayj,” you soothed, reaching up to stroke his messy hair.

“I’m really sorry, about the other night,” he said quietly, voice emotional. “I— I fucked up so bad, baby, I know I did. You mean everything to me, fuckin’ everything. If you want me to drop this whole thing, I will. I’ll tell John B I can’t be apart of it anymore.”

You forced yourself to sit up, his hands guiding you as if you were made of glass. “I never said I didn’t want you to do it, JJ. I just never get to see you anymore. I miss you, that’s all. I don’t get why you won’t let me be apart of it.”

“It’s dangerous—”

“You’ve said that. I don’t care if it’s dangerous, I want to join in. I want to be with you and your friends. I want to be apart of your life, not on the sidelines,” you explained, crossing your legs.

He hesitated, the room silent for a few moments before his arms wrapped around your waist and dragged you back into his arms. “Okay. Next time we go on another mission you can come. If you promise to stick by me.”

“Mission?” You snorted, earning a swat on the thigh.

“Shut up. I’m serious, promise me?” He urged, although a small smirk played on his lips.

“I promise,” you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Already got stitches, what’s a few more?”

“That’s not funny, dude!”

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader

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multific · 6 months ago

Text

The City of Rome at Your Feet

Emperor Geta x Reader

Warnings: hint of insanity (a lot), spoilers for the movie, blood, soft mention of smut

Summary: It was always about the pleasures of the body. But your soul was happiest just around him.

Two souls have never been more intervened.

It was almost frightening.

How can two people be meant for each other so much?

They weren’t much different. Both wicked in their own ways.

Geta being the loud Emperor, while you remained the quiet Empress.

Same temper, same goals and the same love for violence.

You just expressed yourself differently.

You being a lady, were elegant and enticing.

Your marriage was only a wish. A wish which came true.

You prayed to the Gods, hoping for a husband who is just like you.

And you met the Emperors.

Caracalla enjoyed your wit and even if you weren't blood related, called you sister. But Geta enjoyed you as a woman and ordered you to marry him.

You had no choice but to accept.

You never expected for your marriage to turn into such greatness.

It was a marriage filled with fire and blood.

A love filled with passion and power.

And each night, not only your bodies but your souls also melted into one.

You noticed as time kept going on, slowly, the lines between you and Geta slowly blurred.

When Acacius returned from yet another victory. You stood by your husband.

"Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, Empress Y/N." he greeted you as you looked at him, his words failed to get to you after that.

All that you remember is heading back into the palace then Acacius' words finally reached your ears.

"My wife has many subjects. She has to feed them." Acacius said and you looked at him.

Caracalla spoke up before you could.

"And you suggest my sister is not doing a proper job of that?" your eyes snapped at Acacius, who looked at you with regret in his eyes.

"I hope your wife will be able to come and join us for the games tomorrow. I appreciate she is busy with her... subjects, but I don't see why she won't be able to join us."

Caracalla laughed and your eyes never moved from Marcus instead, you took a step closer to him.

"In case you forgot who you were talking to, Marcus." you finished and raised your cup. The man nodded.

---

You enjoyed Gladiator games as much as the next person.

Watching men fight for honour and freedom. It was truly magneficent.

Marcus and his wife were also present after Marcus' lovely speech, you felt a dark presence.

The row behind you were making plans.

But you were a step ahead. Watching Lucilla look at the new Gladiator, Hanno.

You tilted your head and smirked.

You will have some fun with those three.

Your husband squeezes your hand as you turned and smiled at him.

Later that evening, you sent word, asking a guard to report to you as soon as someone visits the new Gladiator.

And someone did.

Lucilla.

You smiled.

"My Love! So happy today?"

"Of course I am. I just found out something very interesting."

"Dare to share?" he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.

"Maybe later, once I have it all laid out."

"I would like to lay you out right now." he moved his head into your neck and started biting your neck.

---

Your husband was yelling, you looked at the traitors in front of you.

"Torture me, but do not lecture me." you smiled at Marcus' words.

"You two are truly stupid." you spoke up and everyone in the room looked at you. "You thought you could save him. Your beloved son. Lucius? Is that his name? You are truly foolish."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lucilla.

"He's dead. Killed him myself." you watched as both looked at you in disbelief.

Then a guard walked out with a head on a plate.

"The same fate Macrinus wished for my husband." You turned to the man sitting on the bench while Lucilla broke down and Marcus moved. "Silly man." with one movement you stepped out of the way as the guards brought him to the floor.

"I wonder how the people of Rome will think of their beloved General once they learn how he attached their Empress. In her sleep none the less. Snuck in and tried to kill her. Sent by his wife, who wished to rule."

"You-" but Marcus couldn't finish his sentence as he was dragged away along with his wife and Macrinus.

"Sister, you are something else truly!" Caracalla laughed and you grabbed a knife and a silver plate, looking at yourself, you cut along your neck. "Genius!" Caracalla continued.

"Why did you have to do that?" Geta rushed over to you, worried as he put his hand on your bleeding neck.

"Proof to the people of my attack. Oh, Geta I was so worried! He came out of nowhere! Hiding in the silk curtains, he told me Lucilla wanted to take my place! I was so scared." your eyes were shiny with tears as Geta shook his head and looked at you.

Caracalla left moments before, laughing still.

Geta watched you and he let out a long sigh. "How did you know?"

"Lucilla was so obvious I'm surprised not everyone noticed. As for Macrinus... I never liked him."

Geta let out a laugh, this is when the healer arrived to check out your neck and put bandages on it.

The next day, you watched Marcus fight and fail.

You managed to put on the show of a life time with your injury, the people of Rome had no reason not to believe you.

All they saw is a hurt poor woman, their Empress.

This not only earned you but also the Emperors sympathy as everyone chanted for Acacius' death.

You felt your husband move his arms around you, pulling you close.

Rome was yours.

Geta was yours and you were only his.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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rosycheekeddawn · 2 months ago

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hiiiii could you do smth where the reader gets dropped into olympus some how and all the gods lowk get interested and decide to keep the little mortal

they end up all fighting over the mortals attention and assistance 🫣

maybe apollo hermes and poseidon (and zues obvi) try to woo and have the readers love the most 👀

Mortal Affections

A/N: This was such a cool request to get for my first one! I’ve decided to write it in headcanons for now, but it gave me a great idea for a series that I’ll get around to when I have some more time.

Hermes

Hermes is the first to sweep you off your feet… literally

He sees you sitting on a bench, most likely pondering your situation, and a mischievous grin lights up his face as he zooms over to you, grabs you by the wrists and hoists you into the air

When you realise your feet are no longer touching the ground, your first instinct is to thrash, flail and scream until you hear a smooth voice from above you

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there, beautiful,” he chuckles, letting go of your wrists and quickly catching you bridal-style in his arms. “You really think I’d drop you?” he teases. “I just had to get you out of there before Apollo or Poseidon got any ideas.”

He spends pretty much the whole flight complimenting you, saying how good you’d be together, and trash-talking his ‘competition’

He finally sets you down in what seems to be a massive orchard, filled with Greek strawberry trees; you turn to face him, and he’s holding up two baskets with a large smile

The next two hours are filled with laughter as he cracks joke after joke (again, most are at the expense of Poseidon and Apollo to try and put you off them) just to admire the unique way your laugh sounds and your smile looks, while you happily fill your basket with delicious fruit

He definitely insists on feeding you some if you’re not too uncomfortable with that

Apollo

He finds you after you’ve returned from Hermes’ strawberry field, and he knows he needs to do whatever he can to top that; he still considers Hermes one of his biggest rivals since the Cattle Incident

He walks over to you with his usual bright smile, the tiny scar on his lip that he got from his time as a mortal twitching slightly with the movement

“It is an honour to finally meet you in person, my dear,” he says, with a voice that sounds like a melody. “I was wondering if you might allow me to show you something?”

At your confirmation, he smiles again and loops his arm through yours as he leads you to a large marble building; when you walk inside, you’re met with the largest library you’ve ever seen

The walls are lined with bookshelves, each one filled to the brim with books and scrolls; in the gaps between the shelves are marvellous paintings and statues

“This library is my reprieve,” he explains to you. “As the god of knowledge, there’s little I enjoy more than a good read. Except, of course, spending time with you, my dear.”

Time with Apollo is much calmer than your time with Hermes; he allows you to pick whichever book or scroll you would like, and while you curl up on his most comfortable piece of furniture, he may feel compelled to create something

He’ll write a poem dedicated to your beauty and impressive focus, paint the scene in front of him with meticulous attention to detail, or even compose a new tune inspired by you

You both engage in some idle conversation; it isn’t non-stop like Hermes’ is, much more calm and relaxed, like you have all the time in the world

He may tell you some embarrassing stories about Hermes or Poseidon, but for the most part, he focuses on showing you he is the best rather than telling you

When you’re finished, he lets you keep the book you chose as a gift

Poseidon

He saw you go into Apollo’s library, and he’s been waiting impatiently ever since

He’s pacing in front of the building impatiently, wondering what could be taking you so long

When you emerge, he immediately stops his pacing and smiles at you, his sea glass eyes lighting up

“I was wondering what was taking you so long, sea star,” he says. “I thought for a moment my nephew had bored you to death. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

Unsurprisingly, Poseidon leads you to a beach, the waves crashing and overlapping in a surprisingly calming way

He sits on the sand and offers for you to do the same, which you do

“The sea here reflects my thoughts and emotions,” he explains as he looks out at the sea with a small, but genuine smile. “As such, I can manipulate however I want.”

Before you can ask what he means, the water in front of you swirls and rises, before it forms the shape of a small horse who immediately trots over to you

The laugh Poseidon lets out at your surprised face when the horse nuzzles your cheek and leaves a patch of wetness makes it seem like the ocean is laughing along with him

He creates some more water creatures, the original horse sitting by your side and whinnying as a trail of liquid sea creatures flies overhead, sprinkling the top of your head with water droplets

Unlike his nephews, Poseidon doesn’t really mention them at all; he’s older and more experienced than his nephews, and he knows he won’t get anywhere with trash talk

You two don’t talk a lot, but it doesn’t feel like you have to; the silence is comfortable, broken occasionally by laughter from the two of you

When the sun sets, the creatures dissolve into the water once more, and he pulls something else from it

It’s a sea glass mosaic of you, him, the water horse by your side and the sea creatures surrounding you in the shape of a heart

#greek mythology x reader #greek mythology x you #greek gods x reader #greek gods x you #hermes x reader #hermes x you #apollo x reader #apollo x you #poseidon x reader #poseidon x you

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halfbloodfics · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, welcome on tumblr.

I see that request are open. So. I have one :D. Can you write snape x reader fluff. She is also professor in Hogwarts. They are long time in secret relationship and another man (maybe Lockhart? :D ) trying to him. But it’s ridiculous for Severus and her so sometimes in evening after dinner, they talking and laughing about what he come up with. Thank you very much. And sorry for my English, it’s not my native language.

Thank you for the request, I'm sorry I'm getting to it so late. Uni is starting up again, so I'll be quite busy.. But fret not fellow sev lovers, all requests will be taken gotten too!!

Tropes: Fluff, established relationship, secret relationship

Warnings: none :)

requests are open :) see pinned post xx

The classroom was quiet, the students having just been dismissed for the weekend. With your back turned to the door, you began tidying up after them, pushing in the chairs and returning borrowed textbooks.

The afternoon sun poured in from the ancient windows, filling the class with a warm, ambient light. From the back of the room, your partner, Severus, gazed up at you, waiting for you to be done.

A small smile graced your lips, one that he returned. For professional reasons, you kept your relationship private from the other students and staff; giving no clues that you were together. During the week, the two of you slept in your seperate chambers, on opposite ends of the castles. But the weekends? That was your time to finally be together, in your shared home on Spinner's End. Away from the secrecy and obligations of your professional lives.

You continued to clean as he graded, eager to finish, when a familiar voice interupted the silence.

"Ah, Proffessor Y/LN." Lockhart said, standing in the door frame. "Allow me to assist you in cleaning."

You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before you had the chance to, Lockhart invited himself in, using his wand to organize the classroom and tidy things back up the way they were.

"Oh, thank you, Professor Lockhart." You said, brushing your hands off on the sides of your dress. "You didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

Severus stood quietely at the back of the class, in the corner of your eye you noticed his arms cross.

It was no doubt to anyone in Hogwarts but Lockart, that Severus absolutely despised the man. The proud, flirtacious and conceited man was the absolute opposite of your reserved partner, and yet, Lockhart never seemed to catch on to this fact that his presence was far from welcome.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white smile and stepping a little closer until he was about a foot from you.

"Say, Y/N," He started, adjusting the turqouise and gold rimmed hat on his head to show off more of the curly, golden locs, "You seem to be fairly intelligent. I'm sure you have exquisite taste, in extra curricular activites."

Your eyes flicked briefly at Severus, who was now staring at the back of Lockharts head, with an expression that was half amused, half annoyed.

You hesitated. "Umm. Thank you? I thi-"

Lockharts hand raised dismissivly, his fingers gently grazing across your face to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. "No needs for words, Professor Y/L/N. I know, how star struck you are." He says with a wink.

Oh. Yea... Starstruck...

You clear your throat, walking over to your desk to continue collecting your things.

Obnoxiously, yet not surprisingly, Lockhart follows, this time stopping in front of your desk, watching with a smug expression as you gather your things.

"Which is why, dear, I was wondering if you would love the honour, of coming to my book reading this weekend?" He starts, leaning on the desk, "There will be plenty of my admirars there, hopefully you amongst them. Who knows? Perhaps I'll even sign something for you, free of charge."

You paused, bag in hand. "Oh, um.. That's quite kind of you, Professor. I thank you for the invite, but I'm quite busy this weekend... Unfortunately."

Lockharts grin faltered, as if he wasn't used to a woman denying him the pleasure of his company.

From the back of the room, Severus let out a small scoff, causing Lockhart to turn around and notice the man he hadn't seen before. "Oh. Professor Snape." He said, clearly fighting to maintain the confident persona he had put on.

He turned back to you, forcing a smile. "Well, yes. Another time, certainly. I'll see you on Monday, Professor."

You nodded, forcing a small smile, feeling relieved as you watched him exit the class and disapear down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, your head rolled to Severus with an exasperated sigh. He smirked back at you, clearly amused by the whole ordeal as he approached and took the bag off your shoulders.

"A signed book of his, free of charge." He said at last, drawing out the laugh you had been holding in so long.

That night, you sat in the kitchen of your shared home in Spinners End, reading The Quibbler as Severus stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of soup.

"Finding any entertaining gossip, dear?" He said, back still turned as he prepared your dinner.

You put the paper down with a scoff. "No, just the regular, boring stuff. Besides, these papers don't even have crosswords at the end. What's the point?"

You watched Severus move around the kitchen quietly, hands delicately chopping vegetables and adding them to the pot. All these years, and he still didn't use magic while cooking. You knew this about him, that he preffered to use his own hands to cook, finding solace in the quiet, mindless activity.

He brushed a sliced carrot off the cutting board and into the pot. "Perhaps you should have taken Lockart up on his offer. Surely his riveting tales would have provided you with such entertainment."

There was a playful edge to his voice, despite his monotone phrasing. It was no doubt he could get jealous, possessive even. Particularily in the beginning of your relationship. But as the years had gone on and his trust in you developed, his doubts and insecurities lessened, finding others flirtations slightly less outrageous. But with Lockhart? It was just laughable.

You snorted, moving your paper to the side as he approached with two bowls of soup, placing yours on the placemat in front of you.

The front, framing pieces of his black hair fell in front of his smirk as he sat across from you on the small table. His left hand reached for the paper, his right one bringing the spoon to his lips and blowing gently on the soup.

"Oh, no," He stated as his eyes scanned the paper, "Certainly no tales of Lockharts bravery in here."

He flipped the pages, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly higher as you scoffed, bringing your own spoon to your lips and taking a sip.

"However will I fill my weekend with enjoyment now?" You sighed.

Severus smirked, taking another sip of the soup and putting the paper down. "I don't know. Now that you no longer have the honour of his company."

That was all it took for you to break out in a laugh, leaning back in your chair and playfully kicking Severus under the table.

"Sev," You laughed, "Did you see the look on his face when I declined?"

Severus smirked, laughing silently to himself as he brought the spoon to his lips once more. "I'll be keeping that memory close in mind the next time I'm lucky enough to have the honour of gracing his presence."

You laughed harder, always amused by your partners never ending sarcastic remarks. It was one of the things you were first attracted to him for, all those years ago. How he could always one up you in conversation, his wit never ending.

"How often do you think he hears the word, no?" You said.

Severus scoffed, sipping the soup again and swallowing before replying curtly: "Not nearly enough."

You giggled to yourself quietly, relishing in the view of his smile across from you. "Perhaps I can help with that." You said finally, stirring your soup.

He smirked as his dark eyes met yours, and for a moment the only sound was the clinging of your spoons against the bowls as you ate, stomachs full of home made soup and amusement.

When Severus had noticed you were finished, he stood up, holding out his hand to collect your bowl. You handed it to him, thanking him and smiling as you felt him lean down and place a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"I must say," He murmered against your hair. "I think your company is a much greater honour."

You smiled as he withdrew his lips. "The honour is yours all weekend, my love."

He placed the bowls in the sink and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck.

Sighing, the stress and obligations of the previous school week began to melt away. You were here, in your shared home. The peace washed over you as you tilted your head back against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Thank Merlin for that." He murmered at last.

la fin, xx

#snape fandom #severus snape #severus x reader #snape x y/n #pro snape #professor snape #snape fic #snape love #snape fanfiction #snape x you #snape x reader #snape fluff #severus snape fluff #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n

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hiddenreamers · 8 months ago

Text

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

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