#i'd also have to try to not look at my phone first thing in the morning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ms-demeanor · 10 months ago

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Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

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dice-wizard · 1 year ago

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Okay writers listen up

I'm gonna tell you about how I wrangled my shitbird brain into being a terrifying word-churning engine and have written over 170K words in under a year.

I wanna be clear that before unlocking this Secret Technique I was a victim of my unmedicated ADHD, able to start but never finish, able to ideate but not commit and I truly and firmly believed that I'd never write a novel and such a thing was simply outside of my reach.

Now I write (and read!!) every day. Every. Single. Day. Like some kind of scriptorial One Punch Man.

Step the First

Remove friction between yourself and writing.

I personally figured out how to comfortably write on my phone which meant I didn't have to struggle with the insurmountable task of opening my laptop.

I don't care if this means you write in a Discord server you set up for yourself, but fucking do it. Literally whatever makes you write!

(if you do write somewhere that isn't a word processor PLEASE back your work up regularly!)

Step the Second

Make that shit a habit. Write every day.

For me, I allow myself the grace that ANY progress on writing counts. One sentence? Legal. Five thousand furious hyperfixated words? Also legal.

Every day, make progress. Any progress.

I deleted Twitter from my phone and did my best to replace doomscrolling with writing. If I caught myself idly scrolling I'd close whatever I was looking at and open my draft and write one (1) sentence until I made THAT a habit, too.

Step Two-point-Five

DO NOT REWRITE. If you are creating a first draft, don't back up or restart. Continous forward motion. Second drafts and editors exist. Firsts are for ripping the fucking thing out of your brain.

If you're working on revisions after an editor or beta readers or whoever has given you feedback, then you can rewrite that's OK (and it counts as your writing for the day!)

Step the Third

Now that you've found a comfortable way to write and are doing it every day, don't stop. Keep doing it. Remember, just one sentence is all you need. You can always do more, but if one lousy sentence is all you can manage then you're still successfully writing.

Remember: this is what worked for me. Try things until you find what works for you.

You can do it. I believe in you.

#am writing #writing resources #original writing #Writer #writeblr #author #Author resources #writing tools #writing #writing tool #long post #text post

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sunrizef1 · 6 months ago

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Lost in Japan

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: None, cursing

Authors Note: I was almost done with a max fic and this song overtook my mind until I finished this. Also trust, I will be using bear as a nickname for Oscar in every fic from now on.

Summary: Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes

Word Count: 5.1k (this was supposed to be short)

Oscar was bored. Lando was off celebrating a successful weekend somewhere out in the city of Shanghai while Oscar was sat alone in his hotel room waiting for the flight McLaren has organized to get him back to England. He hadn’t won. He hadn’t even gotten a podium. So there wasn’t much for him to be exactly thrilled about. So instead, he was just scrolling through his phone, checking various social media apps before he finally landed on Instagram.

He clicked on the first Instagram story at the top of his page, which happened to be Lando’s. He ignored the pictures of him celebrating at some party, tapping through the various shots of him getting more and more inebriated. He was with Max and Charles at the party so Oscar wasn’t too concerned. He clicks through a few more people stories before landing on a specific one that makes him slow down.

Oscar stares at his phone screen, eyes glazing over your Instagram story. He’s clicking through passively, pausing as he gets to one of you at dinner the night before. He lets it play out but quickly clicks back when he notices the Tokyo, Japan tag that you’ve placed near the top of the screen.

As Oscar stares at the picture, trying to take in every detail, he’s struck by an idea. He clicks out of the app, opens up his messages and navigates to your contact, already standing up from his hotel room bed to grab his already packed suitcase.

It didn’t look like he’d be using that plane ticket back to England after all. He clicks the call button under your name, holding the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he grabs his things, exiting the room after he slides his backpack on.

The phone rings for a bit too long, making Oscar slightly worried that you wouldn’t pick up but it does eventually connect and Oscar is met with the sound of your voice filtering through the phone speaker. The door shuts with a soft click behind the Aussie as he steps into the hallway.

“Hello, Oscar,” you hum through the phone. Oscar can practically hear the smirk on your lips even through the low quality iPhone speaker.

Oscar huffs a laugh at your tone, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walks down the hall, “Hi, y/n.”

"What can I do for you?” you ask and Oscar can hear shuffling from your end of the call. As the words leave your lips, he reaches the elevator, tapping the button on the wall to call it to his floor.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Oscar reaches the point quickly, trapping the phone back between his shoulder and ear as the elevator opens and he steps in, tapping the lobby button.

You pause for a second, proccessing the question and contemplating your answer, “Besides falling asleep in a few hours? Nope.”

Oscar hums, pulling the phone into his hands and typing impatiently into google as you speak. He finds the soonest, and nicest, flight to Japan he could, purchasing the ticket without a second thought.

“Why?”

Oscar freezes for a moment, looking up from the ticket he'd just bought to narrow his eyes at the elevator door, “I saw you're in Japan-”

“Oh, so you're stalking me now?” Oscar rolls his eyes as you laugh through your question, painting the image of your grinning face in the Aussies mind.

“Shut up, no, anyway-,” Oscar sighs, dragging his suitcase out of the elevator as it reaches the lobby, “Im in Shanghai, I thought I'd fly over to see you.”

Your silence on the other end of the line is deafening. Oscar even checks to make sure the call is still connected due to how quiet you were. Taking your lack of response as a bad sign, Oscar starts to ramble, hoping to do a bit of damage control, “Just because I'm only a couple hundred miles away and the race is over and I'm bored. Its just been so long since we were so close, especially during the season and I miss y-”

“When does your flight leave?”

Oscar, who’d frozen on the sidewalk outside the hotel, unfreezes to gesture for a taxi. It was only a five-minute drive to the airport from the place Mclaren had been staying so he hoped this wouldn't take too long. He mutes for a moment to tell the driver to take him to the airport. The driver nods, pulling away from the curb.

“Uhhhh-” Oscar navigates through his phone to check his flight details as he sits back in his seat, “Half an hour?”

“Ooh, you better hurry then,” You hum, a playful tone laced through your words, “Dont want to miss it.”

Oscar laughs happily, just glad to hear you joking along. He does find some reality in your words though, doing the math to see if he even had enough time to make his flight. He was honestly running on hopes and prayers at this point.

“What made you suddenly so inclined to fly to Japan on a random Sunday?” Your voice pulls Oscar out of his thoughts and he pauses, smiling abashedly as the answer comes to his head.

“Just can't get you off my mind.”

Oscar can’t see you. But if he could, he'd see a warm smile carved onto your face due to the warmth his statement had caused.

“I don't know Osc, I'm actually pretty tired. Might just head to bed,” Oscar rolls his eyes as you try and stifle your giggle.

“Do I need to convince you to stay awake, then?”

You huff a laugh, humming in affirmation, “I’d love to hear it.”

“Well,” Oscar starts, racking his mind for some suggestions of what to say to get you to agree to this, “You don't miss me?”

“I never said that,” You reply quickly. Oscar raises an eyebrow, head falling back against the seat as he trys not to groan.

“So you do miss me?”

You hum quietly, the sound almost too low for Oscar to hear it through the phone, “Maybe a little bit.”

The Aussie chuckles, “I thought so.”

“Can you blame me? It's been a while. I miss my favourite koala bear,” Oscar gets the sense that the words were meant to come out teasing but he can't help but notice how genuine they sound. He laughs nonetheless.

He's about to respond when the cab comes to a sudden stop and he looks out the window to see the airport in front of him.

“Shit, I'm here.”

Oscar swings his backpack onto his shoulders, rifling through a pocket to find enough cash to hand to the driver, not really considering an exact amount and, instead, just asking the driver if that was enough. When the driver tries to hand change back, Oscar leans away, grasping the door handle to swing the door open to get out. He grabs his suitcase as well, leaning down to shout back into the car.

“Keep the change, thanks mate!” Oscar shuts the door, dragging his suitcase behind him as the cab drives away.

“Such a gentleman, I take it you're at the airport now?” you tease him, a genuine questioning tilt laced in your words.

Oscar nods before remembering you can't see him, “Yeah, just got out of the car.”

Oscar rushes through the large door, holding it open for an older woman to walk through before he steps in past her. He glances around the room, trying to find airport security so he could get to his gate.

“You gonna make your flight?” you seem to be finding a lot of amusement in his frantic rushing.

Oscar huffs, pinning his phone between his cheek and shoulder to check his watch. He still had about twenty-five minutes to get to his plane.

“Twenty minutes,” he responds, walking quickly down the hall when he spots a sign directing him that way.

“Ooh! Ah, I have faith in you. If you're anywhere near as fast as you are on the track I'm sure you'll be fine.”

Oscars eyes trail over the hall, locking onto the security gates and causing him to walk a little quicker, “You watch the race today?”

You don't respond for a few minutes but when you do, your voice is a lot more calm than it had been a few moments before, “Mhm. You did good Os.”

Oscar lets out a sigh, shaking his head as a grin fights its way into his lips, “Thanks, I'm glad you think so.”

Oscar steps into the security line, grateful for the fact that there are only a few people in front of him. He ignores the weird glance the old lady in front of him sends his way as he rushes to a stop behind her, replying with a tight smile.

“Its not just me, Osc,” you reply, sensing his disdain for the days race through the phone, “Everyone thinks you did well.”

Oscar hums, stepping up a few steps as a couple of people pass through, leaving just the old lady in front of him. As he reaches the bag scanners, he pins his phone on his shoulder again to lift his bag up onto the conveyor belt, tossing his bag down beside it.

“One second,” Oscar responds, muting his phone to drop it into a bowl along with his airpods, sending them through along with his bags.

After he's put all his things on the belt, he steps away, walking through the metal detector when the agent signals for him to go.

It takes a few moments for the agents to check his bags but when they come through he pulls the suitcase off and sets it beside him, turning back to slide his backpack over his shoulders. He slides his AirPods into his hoodie pocket and picks up his phone, unmuting the call before walking away, his suitcase in tow.

“Im back,” Oscar clicks away from the call for a few seconds to check his flight details before putting the phone back to his ear.

“Did I just get sent through a security scanner?” you sound amused and Oscar can practically see your smirk just from the tone of your voice.

“Didnt want to hang up,” he grumbles, searching the signs above him for his gate, walking quickly when he spots it. A clock on the wall indicates that he's still got 15 minutes to get to his flight. He thinks about it for a few moments, quickly realizing that it was 15 minutes until scheduled takeoff and boarding would actually end in five minutes.

“Im honored-”

“Fuck!” Oscar cuts you off, too busy now sprinting down the airport corridor to think about that fact, “Shit! I'm gonna miss it!”

You don't respond for a few seconds but you eventually do, a loud laugh echoing from your throat as you take in his situation.

“Oh my god, are you late for boarding? Osc!” you laugh, the image of the driver sprinting down the hall engrained in your head.

He doesn't reply, the phone now down near his hip as he runs to his gate. The run feels like an hour but, in reality, was only actually a few minutes, the clocks on the walls ticking down as if mocking the Aussies poor planning.

He finds some kind of respite, though, as he finally gets to the gate, slowing down as he steps up to the gate agent. The lady seems surprised to see him run up but she doesn't turn away, instead glancing him up and down with a concerned look before responding.

“Hi! Do you have your ticket?” the woman is surprisingly kind about the question, especially considering she had been preparing to leave as he'd rocked up.

Oscar nods, still trying to catch his breath. He pulls his phone open to navigate to the ticket, facing the QR code forward for the agent to scan. She does so before nodding politely and leading him down the path toward the plane.

Oscar lets out a sight of relief and lifts the phone back up to his face, “I made it.”

Your laugh has calmed down but you snort at his almost war-torn sounding voice, his strife obvious due to his lack of breath, “Congrats, man.”

He gets lead onto the plane, thanking the woman who'd brought him and smiling at the flight attendants as he walks a few steps past them. He finds his seat, dropping his phone onto it to lift his phone and stow it away in the overhead bin. He grabs his phone and sits down, relaxing into the seat after setting his backpack on the ground.

“I’ll be in Japan in a few hours,” He says, running hand over his face, “See you there, yeah?”

You hum, “See you there, bear.”

Oscar ignores the nickname, pretending it didn't make him smile, “Im gonna hang up now, promise you won't be asleep when I land?”

You laugh, “I promise, Oscar. I'll even go get a red bull for some extra energ-”

“Yeah, nope. Goodbye.” Oscar interrupts before you can endorse the rival team.

“Bye koala bear,” you respond and the phone clicks softly as you hang up. Oscar sets the phone down to pull his airpods out of his pocket, connecting them in order to watch some movie for the flight.

The flights only a few hours long but it feels a lot longer than that to Oscar. It's a haze of random Netflix shows and bagged pretzels, the monotony of the flight boring Oscar out of his mind.

He's relieved when the plane touches down, his proximity to the front of the plane allowing him to stand up and grab his things fairly quickly. Its about 9 pm local time, the sky outside not shedding any light through the plane windows.

Oscar walks out into the airport, grateful to be off the cramped plane and finally move his legs again. He stops at one of the few shops still open to buy an overpriced bottle of water, pausing as he spots a bag of those haribo peach rings you like so much. He doesn't think much as he grabs the bag, throwing it onto the counter beside his bottle and offering the cashier a polite smile.

After paying, he grabs the bottle and the bag, grasping them in the same hand as he pulls his suitcase along with the other one.

He strolls through the airport, trying to rid himself of the fatigue from the race and the plane ride. The only thing keeping him from falling asleep was the thought of seeing you again.

Speaking of you, Oscar doesn't realize he has no idea where you were staying or where you were until he's stepped out of the airport doors, standing on the sidewalk with his suitcase sat next to him. He tries to recall if you'd told him anything about your Japan trip or even if he'd seen anything on your story but he comes up empty.

He clicks on your contact, pressing the phone to his ear as the call rings. He frowns as you decline, confused as to why you'd hang up.

He's just about to walk back inside to wait when a car horn honks, causing Oscar to look up in front of him.

His eyes widen as they lock onto an orange Mclaren 570s Coupe, the car shining beautifully under the street lights. As he stands and admires the car ahead of him, the window closest to him rolls down and he sees your head duck down to lock eyes with him.

“You getting in?”

He laughs incredulously, opening the passenger side door and carefully sliding his suitcase into the small storage space behind the seats.

He sets his backpack on the floor below him, flopping back into the sear and sliding his seatbelt on. He sets his water down and tosses the bag of peach rings into your lap, “Nice car.”

“Thanks,” you reply brightly, eyes widening as you observe the bag of candy before moving it into your hoodie pocket, “Thought id go all out with the rental for the few days I'm here.”

Oscar hums, glancing around the nice car, coincidentally a Papaya McLaren. He refused the urge to ask you if you'd been thinking of him when you'd picked the vehicle.

After you make sure his seatbelts on, you pull away from the airport terminal and navigate onto the main road, pressing play on your playlist to let music filter quietly through the speakers.

The car glides smoothly down the streets of Tokyo, bright lights reflecting off the sides of your face. Oscar looks your way, completely aware that your attention was locked on the road, giving him the free pass to admire you.

Your eyes dart around the road in front of you, neon lights reflected in your irises. Your teeth dig at your lower lip, chewing lightly as turn the car. You’ve got one hand on the wheel, the other one moving around between the center console and the fraying edge of your shorts. You're wearing a quadrant hoodie and Oscar can't tell if its his or if you both just owned the same hoodie. The fit didn't help, he knew you bought your hoodies oversized anyway.

You glance over as you come to a stop at a red light, grinning when you see his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, laughing slightly as you lean back from the wheel, splitting your attention between the road and Oscars face.

Oscar shakes his head with a small smile, his own attention turning out the window as you drive through the green light.

“Have you eaten?”

Oscar shakes his head, “Nah.”

You nod, taking the next turn to pull into a parking lot, stopping the car after you find a spot. You step out and Oscar takes this as his cue to get out as well, shutting the car door gently behind him.

When Oscar gets around the car, he finds you leaning against the edge, your feet crossed as you wait for him. He steps to your side and you push off the car, the familiar beep of it locking ringing out as you walk away.

As you both walk toward the restaurant, you step into Oscar's side and he’s quick to swing an arm over your shoulder. You wrap an arm around his torso, reaching the other up to tangle your fingers with his.

He's only slightly disappointed when you have to drop his hand in order to open the door. But you keep your hand against his ribs and he keeps his arm around your shoulders, not ready to let you go yet.

The second his feet pass the threshold of the building, he's hit with some of the most delicious scents he'd smelled in his life. This late at night there isn't much action apart from a few stragglers who Oscar assumes had just gotten off work and needed a bite to eat.

An older man swings around the corner from the kitchen, faint food stains gracing his otherwise white apron. He has a huge grin on his face and it only increases when he sees you. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, wiping off the steam that had accumulated on the lenses.

“Ah! You're back again!” The man calls out to the pair of you. Although his words do make Oscar assume the man was mostly talking to you, “And you brought your boyfriend!”

You don't correct the man and after seeing the grin on your face, Oscar doesn't either.

“Yeah, he just got in from Shanghai. Haven't had dinner yet.”

“Go, go,” the man smiles, pointing toward the dining room, “Sit where you want, ill get to you in a second.”

The man waves you both toward the tables and you step out of Oscar’s grasp. He doesn't have to be disappointed for long as you wrap your hand in his to lead him through the restaurant, stopping at a booth before sliding in. Oscar slides in the seat opposite of you, his legs knocking against yours under the table.

Quickly, the man, who Oscar now assumes is the owner, comes over to the table, setting down two glasses of water and a pair of menus in front of the both of you.

“You know what you want?” The man grins as he gestures toward you, seemingly familiar to you. Oscar takes a sip of his water, letting the coop liquid run down his throat.

You nod happily, “Yeah, I think so.”

The man pulls out a small notebook to write down whatever you say and you continue by saying a few different dishes, the only one Oscar having had before being sushi. He doesn't say anything, knowing that you knew more about this place and the menu than he did.

After you're done ordering, the man walks away and strolls into the kitchen, handing the order to the woman behind the counter before placing a small kiss on her cheek.

Oscar looks back to you, a small smile on his face after seeing the couple who seemed to be running the restaurant themselves, “You’ve been here before, then?”

You nod, leaning over to take a sip from your glass, “Yeah, came here yesterday for lunch.”

Oscar hums, glancing out of the booth to look around the room. Paintings and neon signs decorate the walls and what seems to be photographs taken in the restaurant all line the wall by the entrance. Oscar can vaguely see that the photos of are different people posing, all with happy looks on their faces. He huffs a breathy laugh when he sees one of you with your friends.

The time spent waiting for your food is filled with casual conversation, Oscar asking a lot of questions about how your Tokyo trip had been so far.

You don't ask about the race. There's some kind of unspoken understanding that Oscar had run to Japan to get away from racing for once. Here, with you, Oscar wasn't Mclaren racing driver, Oscar Piastri, he was just Oscar. Or “Bear”, as you called him. A nickname that you seemed unable to let go of. Oscar pretended to be annoyed every time you said it but he couldn't deny the smile that formed every time he heard the Australia-themed moniker.

“Bear?” There it is. Oscar looks up with a raised eyebrow, deducing that you'd asked a question he hadn't answered.

“I asked if you're staying with me tonight.”

Oscar snorts before smirking, shaking his head as he locks eyes with you, “Yeah, wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.”

You blush, looking down toward the table, past meals having left vague food stains on the wood.

Before you can respond, the man returns, plates and bowls balancing in his hands. You look up politely, smiling as the man starts to place the food on the table, “Thank you so much.”

The man grins as he places down the last plate, “Of course. Enjoy.”

He walks away and you turn toward Oscar who stares vaguely at the food in front of him, “Dig in.”

You make a move for your chopsticks, looking over the food before taking a bite of whatever is immediately in front of you. Oscar glances around, not sure where to start.

Noticing his hesitancy, you pick up a piece of what you'd been eating and bring it up toward his lips, pulling back after Oscar bites into it.

“What is this?” Oscar asks as he chews, covering his mouth as he speaks. Whatever it is, it's pretty good, having a light and slightly sweet flavour. Its also a bit more rubbery than chicken, but its pretty good nonetheless.

You swallow your own bite, having scooped up some rice along with it, “Unagi. Grilled eel.”

The only indication of Oscar's surprise is his widened eyes but after a few seconds, he reaches over to take another bite, humming as he chews on the eel. You smile, moving on to grab some kind of skewer.

You slowly move through the foods, explaining each one to Oscar as he tries them.

They're all good but Oscar's favourite is the yakitori, the skewers of grilled chicken. By the time you've finished the food on the table, Oscar is about ready to pass out.

So you pay as soon as you can, Oscar grumbling about his inability to pay for the meal, lacking the proper currency. He does Venmo you when you put your phone down, though.

The owner makes playful conversation with you, thanking you for coming around and telling you you're welcome back anytime. Oscar just stands with his head on top of yours, trying not to fall asleep.

You're about to leave when the man calls you back and you turn around to see him holding a camera in his hands, “For the wall? Need to remember the happy couple.”

You laugh, glancing around to see the many many photos of various friend groups on the wall behind you, turning back around with a soft look as you nod. You lean into Oscar who wraps an arm around you, tilting his head toward you. You tangle your hand with the one on your shoulder, holding up a peace sign with your other one.

The familiar click of a camera sounds and the man smiles warmly, waving you both out the door, “Have a great time! Thank you for coming!”

You wave goodbye, stepping out of the restaurant and pulling out your keys to unlock the car. Oscar untangles from you to walk to the passenger's side and step in. You drop in as well, setting your phone down in the centre console. Oscar is staring out the window when he feels something drop in his lap and he glances down to see the bag of peach rings he'd bought you.

“Can you open that?” You ask, starting the car and putting it in reverse. You glance over your shoulder as you pull backward, one arm behind Oscars seat and the other on the wheel.

Oscar, at risk of getting caught staring, turns his attention to the candy, ripping the edge and grabbing a few pieces to throw in his mouth.

Once you've got onto the main road, you hold out a hand and Oscar drops a couple pieces which you proceed to eat.

The drive is quiet, the both of you feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. You eventually pull up to the hotel, stopping the car and stepping out. Not before grabbing more candy from Oscar, though.

Oscar leans over to grab his suitcase, stepping out of the car and sliding his backpack on. He grabs his water bottle from the airport, stuffing it into the bottle compartment on the side of the bag. He looks up and starts walking, stepping by your side as you enter the hotel. You stroll through the lobby, leading both of you to the elevator.

As the elevator starts moving up, you both lean against the wall, letting the quiet music be the only sound beside a couple yawns.

The elevator dings as it passes each floor. Oscar watches as you dig your key card out of your pocket, running your fingers along the edge absently.

The doors slide open, leading you to walk out, Oscar in tow. You drift down the hall, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head. Oscar vaguely recognizes it as Taylor Swift.

When you reach your room, you scan your card and push the door open, holding it to let Oscar pass through.

He does, pushing his suitcase next to the far side of the bed. He can hear you setting your things down, the familiar clink of keys on glass ringing out in the otherwise quiet room.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he says lowly, sliding past you and into the attached bathroom. He can hear you hum in affirmation just before he shuts the door.

When he emerges, you're sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off your shoes before tossing them on the floor. You’ve taken off your hoodie (or Oscars) and its not lain over the chair across the room.

You glance up, smiling as you see the Aussie walk out, “Hi.”

Oscar huffs amusedly, sliding off his own shoes as he walks toward you, “Hi.”

You hum, looking up as he walks closer to you before leaning slightly to angle his face toward yours. You both pause for a few moments, waiting to see who'd break the stand-off first.

It ends up being you, as you pull his face down towards yours, your kiss almost searing. The kiss feels like it lasts a lifetime and Oscar almost wishes it could. He does pull away, though, just to move you away from the edge of the bed, smiling when he hears your laugh ring out after he's practically tossed you onto the mattress.

He moves up as well and before he can even get his bearings, you're pulling him back down again, hands in his hair and your lips on his.

The next morning, Oscars awoken by the sound of your quiet laugh. He rolls over with a tired groan, wrapping his other arm around your torso.

“What are you laughing at?” he grumbles, tiredness clear in his voice.

You turn to face him, looking impossibly beautiful for having just woken up. You hold your phone toward him and Oscar glances down at the screen before looking back up at your face with a questioning glance.

“Lando sent me a video this morning,” you start, closing your phone and tossing it aside to grasp his tired face between your hands, “Its quite funny.”

“What was it?” Oscar mumbles, leaning to press a small kiss on your forehead.

You lean back, looking him in the eyes and seemingly trying to hide your smirk, “It's a video of his teammate sprinting through the Shanghai airport.”

Oscar groans, trying to ignore your warm laugh, “Fuck.”

He's not really mad, not when the video was the source of your happiness right now.

There were a lot worse sights to wake up to than your happy face beside him.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfiction

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authorhjk1 · 23 days ago

Text

30 days

(Irene x Male Reader ft. TripleS Nakyoung)

Trigger warning: cheating

You were destined to fail. No way in hell would you be able to survive this ridiculous challenge. You knew that from day one. Especially with such a gorgeous wife like Irene.

The two of you had a bet going. Throughout November, neither of you were allowed to cum. The loser would face severe punishment. Which would be nothing new to you. But up until 10 minutes ago, you thought you had a chance to succeed. A slim chance. But a chance nonetheless. It could've been the first time in your life having the upper hand in the bedroom. Up until now, Irene always was in control. She always decided when and where and how often.

Which was fine to you, until around two months ago. Irene started to pay less attention to sex. The two times a week became once a week. And then, you went a couple of weeks without proper sex at all.

You were about to get worried. Rightfully so. Irene is a gorgeous, beautiful, sexy woman. And you know you aren't the best lover in the world, but it always seemed like Irene was satisfied with you.

Luckily, she suddenly brought up the topic of participating in this year's NNN challenge. No sex, no masturbating, no cumming for 30 days. Your reward? The chance of doing something, you've always wanted to do. Have sex with Irene the way you want to. Maybe for once be in control.

But all that now seems to almost suffocate you as you lie on your and your wife's bed. Your eyes staring up at the ceiling, but you're not really looking at it. Your crotch covered in cum, your dick already softening again. Your phone in your left hand.

You glance at it again. You couldn't help yourself. You met her a couple of days ago while picking up Irene from her music show appearance. The younger woman was talking to you, maybe even flirting? Now that you think back at it, that could've actually been possible.

Kim Nakyoung looked like a tease with those shorts that showed off her thighs. That shirt that showed off that midriff. And that tie that almost seemed to beg you to pull on it.

She was already sexy in person. But when you saw this picture 10 minutes ago, you knew you had lost.

You still remember all the things you thought about doing to her, which Irene would never let you do. Bend Nakyoung over a table, or just have your way with her, while she's on all fours on your bed. Making her ride your cock, while doing those body rolls she did during her performance. Even trying out how tight her ass is. And finally finishing off by painting her face, while Nakyoung plays with her clit at the same time.

You sigh heavily. Maybe Irene doesn't have to know? Would she ever find out if you just get yourself together and walk back into the living room? While still thinking about keeping your loss a secret, you hear the door open.

Before you can even blink, Irene is standing the room.

"What do we have here?"

An amused, slightly derogatory smile plays around the corners of her mouth. Almost as if she knew you were gonna lose.

"I-I think I lost."

"Oh, I can see that."

Her eyes move to your phone.

"Even thinking about someone else?"

"It's not what it looks like."

You're afraid Irene would take it the wrong way, but she just looks at you, waiting for an explanation.

"I just thought about doing stuff to her, which I'd never do to you."

"Why, because it's dirty?"

You want to say that it's mainly because she doesn't let you do it, but you're not brave enough to say that.

"Yes. While it's hot, I would never want to see my wife doing stuff like that."

"Of course not."

Her amused smile makes you feel warm, but also guilty. The fact that you're still lying here like this, the fact that you lost, the fact that you thought of someone else. You know Irene's punishment for you won't be a small one.

The last days of November have arrived and you've grown more worried by the second. Irene never told you when or where or how you'd face your punishment. At first, you thought it was gonna be December 1st or November 30th. But you could be wrong as well.

When you arrive at the cafeteria to start your lunch break, you keep picturing an angry Irene making you suffer for hours on end, before finally letting you cum. Halfway through your meal, you get a message from Irene, which is quite unusual. She knows you're working around this time and she might be working too right now as well.

"Today is the day."

You swallow hard, knowing that when you're coming home today, you're done for. Even more fantasies and hellish punishments invade your mind. Irene once mentioned she'd love to try out something that involves pain. She might've been talking about herself, but you're not so sure about that anymore.

You almost drop your fork, when she sends you a picture of herself. Your wife is basically only wearing lingerie. A black see through crop top, showing off her porcelain like skin underneath. You can clearly see her tits and her nipples. All of that barely concealed by the black flower patterns on the fabric. Her tight midriff makes you unconsciously rest your hand in your lap. Her panties are black lace as well. They appear to be see through too, but the black flowers hide her lower lips. The black stockings end in a flower pattern as well. They look tight, making it seem like her thighs are thicker than usual. Irene's black heels make her look taller and her legs longer.

Seeing that she's dressed in all black confirms your suspicion. You'll get punished today. You're glad she isn't holding a whip or anything. Maybe she's just hiding that?

"You better come home now. Or your punishment will be worse tonight."

Taking the second half of the day off was an easy decision. Not just in fear for what's to come if you don't, but also because of your excitement. You've never seen her in that outfit before and you just want to look at her wearing that in person.

When you pull into your drive way, you notice someone's bike standing near the front door. Looks like Irene ordered lunch for the two of you. You already had lunch earlier, but you don't mind eating again. Getting out of the car and walking towards your house, you realize that the door is slightly open. Where is the delivery guy anyway?

Maybe he is inside, waiting for Irene to pay? But wouldn't she have money on her and wouldn't he normally wait outside? You feel a little uncertain as you open the front door fully.

You step out of your shoes and hang up your jacket. You still don't see anyone.

Entering the living room, you freeze.

Your wife is kneeling on the floor. Kneeling between another man's legs, who's sitting on your couch. His pants are lying next to him. And Irene has her hands on his thighs and her lips around his cock.

"I-Irene?"

You're standing to her right as she looks up. You don't know what kind of reaction you expected. But you definitely didn't expect her to lift her head and give you a smile, while she keeps stroking him.

"Hi, babe. This is your punishment."

You still can't believe this is actually happening. Your wife is sucking off someone else? In your house? Not even bothered by you watching her?

You don't know what to do as you see her taking him into her mouth again. You don't want to watch, but for some reason you can't look away. You feel disgusted when the delivery guy puts his hand on your wife's head. He guides her up and down on his cock.

You take a step back, your legs hitting the armchair behind you. The sound makes Irene lift her head to look at you. But the man's hand pushes her further down his length instead. You hold your breath. Irene would've killed you for that, but you see her just smiling up at him, his cock now deeper in her mouth.

The man hasn't even acknowledged your presence yet. He stays focused on Irene, watching her giving him head.

You still try to find the right words. Something heavy seems to be stuck in your throat. You don't want to scream. Or cry. Or do anything. You just silently watch how your wife lets her head bob up and down the delivery guy's cock.

Soon, you notice Irene's top is missing. Her perky tits are exposed, slightly glistening with her own spit. Another string of saliva falls off her lips as she quickens her pace. The guy's groan makes your stomach twist. You catch the sparkling wedding ring on Irene's finger as her hand strokes his base.

How could she do something like this? She seemed distant from time to time, especially recently. But you never expected Irene to cheat on you. And you never thought she would let someone have this control over her.

The sounds of her lips gliding along his wet shaft and her humming around his length fill the room. You don't know for how long you've been watching her already. A minute? Two?

"Irene."

Her name weakly leaves your lips once more.

Your wife finally lifts her head off his cock again. A string of saliva connecting her lips with his tip. It tears as she leans away a little.

"Don't act all surprised. You should've seen this coming, really."

"W-What? Why?"

You sound weak, almost whining.

"It was fun with you at first, but I'm getting over it."

Irene keeps stroking the guy's cock, while talking to you, spreading her saliva everywhere.

"What do you mean? We're married."

"So? That doesn't mean I can't have some fun."

"Fun? You're cheating!"

Your emotions are mixed between anger and sadness. Irene seems like a stranger to you now.

"It's not cheating, if you watch."

"Of course it is!"

Irene rolls her eyes.

"Don't be such a baby. Watch or leave. Choice is yours."

"But-"

You don't continue as your wife starts to ignore you again. She takes the guy's cock back into her mouth, her lips now tightly sealed around his shaft.

You don't know what to do. Stay or leave? You watch her closing her eyes and gliding along his length slowly. She only makes that face when she enjoys her food very much. Her eyebrows furrow a little.

Finally sinking into the armchair, you try to look away. You feel like your body is to weak to keep you standing.

"Oh, fuck. That feels amazing."

The man's words make you look back at Irene. You can see how her tongue moves inside her mouth, occasionally bulging her cheeks.

"You like that?"

Irene lets go of his cock and looks up at him.

"You like it when I suck you off like this?"

"Fuck, yes."

The delivery guy takes her face into his hands and guides her back onto his cock. You watch with wide eyes as he seems to thrust up into her mouth, while making her head move up and down as well. Irene never let you take control, she never let you fuck her face. But she's now letting this stranger do it. You can see how he makes her take all of his cock, her lips meeting his base with every thrust. When you hear her gag, you close your eyes. You don't want to see or hear it. But the gagging only becomes louder as he now properly fucks her face.

Once he lets go of her again, Irene looks up at him.

"Your cock has me so wet. I want it in my pussy."

Your eyes shoot open again. You're unable to comprehend what she just said. A blowjob was already too much. And now she wants him to actually fuck her.

You see him helping her onto the couch. It seems it's on purpose the way the two of them position each other. Irene now directly faces you on the couch on all fours.

Most of the time, when the two of you had sex, Irene usually just rode your cock. She was always in control. But now you watch how she purposefully arches her back and raises her ass higher. The man, now kneeling behind her, reaches for her panties and pulls them off of her. Irene smiles when she sees you following his movements.

"Don't worry, baby. I still love you."

Her words sound wrong to you. She's saying one thing, but doing the complete opposite.

"Just let me have this once in a while."

"But-"

Irene interrupts you as the the man makes her moan by licking her pussy. You can't directly see it. But his hands on her ass and his head right behind her leave little to the imagination. Your wife's face contorts in pleasure. She's tightly holding onto the cushion in front of her, her long dark hair partially covering her face. You hear the delivery guy eat out your wife and you can't find any words. You have nothing to say.

"Damn, give it to me."

Irene's moans make you want to cover your ears. But the way she looks at you has you paralyzed. She looks so satisfied, so turned on. You've never really seen her like that before.

When the man gets back up, you hold your breath.

"Make me take it."

Irene sighs, looking straight at you.

The two of you lock eyes. Your wife bites her lower lip. You can see the exact moment when his cock enters your wife. Her mouth falls open, her eyes grow wider. A deep moan leaves her body.

Irene's face shows you exactly how deep he's inside of her. When he hits her limit, Irene's brows are furrowed and she bites her lip.

"You cunt is fucking tight."

You never thought you'd hear another man say these words about your wife. She only responds with a moan as he moves back, before thrusting into her again.

After a short while he really starts to fuck Irene like you never did. She always told you she doesn't like to have sex like that. Makes her look like a slut. But now that man is reaching forward to take a fistful of her hair.

"You like getting fucked by someone else in front of your husband?"

The question leaves your heart aching as he pulls on her hair, making your wife arch her back further.

"Yes, I love it. Make me your whore."

His thrusts become faster and you seem to sink even deeper into the armchair. It's not like you can blame this man. If a woman like Irene would throw herself at you like this, you wouldn't be able to resist too. But why does she let him do this to her?

"I'm gonna ruin your pussy."

"Yes, you own it now. Ruin it!"

Her moans make you shake your head in disbelief. You still can't understand why she'd do this. Aren't you enough for her? If she'd let you, you'd do this too.

"Baby..."

You look at her, when you hear her calling for you.

"Don't look so sad. I'm trying to save our marriage here."

"What? This is the exact opposite of-"

Once more Irene's loud moans cut you off.

What did she mean by that? That she'd leave you, if you don't let her have sex with other men?

"I just - yes, right there! - need a big cock once in a while to show me my place."

"But..can't I do that?"

Irene ignores your question, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as the delivery guy hits the perfect spot. She doesn't talk for a while, only moaning and gasping as he keeps pounding her from behind.

"Irene?"

You call her name again, but she doesn't respond. Her head drops between her shoulders as he lets go off her hair. A loud clap echoes through the room as his hand meets her ass.

"Fuck, yes! Spank me! Punish me!"

Irene's face is a combination of happiness and pleasure. Her smile is replaced every other second by a deep moan.

Another spank. You can see how her right cheek jiggles for a moment.

"Spank me harder, make it hurt."

When you watch the delivery guy fucking and spanking your wife, you finally realize how hot Irene looks right now. She'd look just as good when you'd fuck her like this, but she never let you. You kinda see her in a new light. She always looked sexy. Now she looks slutty. Which makes her even hotter for some reason.

"God, yes!"

Only now do you catch yourself staring at your hand, which is slowly rubbing your crotch. Looking back up, you see how the guy has reached underneath Irene. His left hand gropes and plays roughly with her perky tits, while the other still hits her cheeks. Over and over again, the sound echoes through the living room.

"You like this, slut? You like it when I play with your little tits?"

"Yes, use my body. Touch me."

Your wife's words reach your ears and you have to stop yourself from opening your pants. It hurt to see her like that at first, but now you have that urgent need to touch yourself. To play with yourself while watching your wife getting fucked.

Irene's eyes sparkle in amusement when she catches you rubbing your crotch. A mischievous smile plays around her lips.

"It's fine, baby. You lost this bet anyway. You can jerk off, if you want."

You feel shame warming your cheeks. You never thought you'd actually even consider this. But when the delivery guy grabs Irene's arms and pulls them up from underneath her body, you can't hold it back. You slowly undo your pants as he fucks your wife from behind. Her upper body in the air, her arms behind her as he holds onto them. You watch her head bounce with every thrust as you take out your cock.

"I knew you'd like it, baby. Just relax and enjoy the show."

The man fucks Irene harder now, probably turned on by you jerking off to the two of them. She has to close her mouth to not bite into her tongue, her head continuously moving around.

"Take my cock, slut. I want you to make me cum."

His words make you stroke yourself faster. Irene is probably trying to flex her muscles, wanting to hug his cock even tighter.

"Fuck, just like that."

He groans and you catch Irene's smile, whenever her face isn't covered by her hair, which is flying around in the rhythm to his thrusts.

As you keep jerking off, you notice how hot Irene really looks right now. You get into it more, watching how your wife gets fucked. He is rougher with her than you ever could be.

"I'm gonna cum soon."

His words make you stroke yourself faster.

"Where do you want to cum?"

You never heard this question before. You're curious about the answer.

"Your face."

He lets go off Irene's arms, making her fall onto the couch. You watch how she quickly slides to the ground, kneeling and waiting for him to stand up. You see her side profile, her mouth open.

The delivery guy strokes his cock, which is slick with her juices. He aims it right at her. You feel yourself getting closer already too.

It doesn't take much longer. When he orgasms, he shoots his load all over your wife's face and into her mouth. Irene gasps and tries to get all of it. Her hand replaces his, trying to get every last drop.

You follow quickly after, making a mess of yourself, like you did a couple of days ago.

When Irene finally turns to you, you can see how her face is full of cum.

"To be honest with you, honey, this wasn't our first time."

"What?"

You ask weakly, still recovering from your own orgasm.

"You were right earlier. I've been cheating on you. But now it's not cheating anymore, if you keep watching us."

You see her using her finger to scoop up his cum.

"F-For how long already?"

Irene sucks the cum off her finger, before smiling at you, most of her face still covered.

"30 days."

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

Hi, everyone! Just something small for the end of NNN. I thought I'd try out something new. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me now what you think.

Stay healthy!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #irene red velvet #red velvet irene #red velvet smut #bae irene #irene smut #nnn

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weakformingyu · 8 months ago

Text

The very first night | L.M.

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Summary: after a few months of dating Minho, you two finally have your very first night.

Genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers

Words count: ± 3,200

THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

If you like my content don't forget to ✨reblog✨

Warnings: virgin!Minho, virgin!reader, very sloppy and eager sex, unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral(F receiving), biting(I think that's all)

A/N: I was reading this fic by @moonlinos and had this thought: "what would be like to have your first time with inexperienced bf Minho" and it came out like this 🥺 I'd like to tell @/moonlinos that I just found out about your blog and your writing is amazing, you're really an inspiration 🫶🏻

You met Minho on your first day of college, you were lost in the campus trying to find the orientation room when you bumped into someone, letting your books and bag fall to the floor.

It was your fault, you were looking around and didn't see the man coming in your direction. You apologized right away, more preoccupied with picking up your things rather than looking in his face but he didn't answer you, waiting for you to properly look him in the eyes.

To say that you two hit it off instantly when your eyes met his, it's an understatement. You even blinked a few times making sure you weren't dreaming. That guy was the prettiest man you have ever seen and it's not even an exaggeration. He was wearing a light pink sweater with a white dress shirt below, dark blue jeans and all stars. It was an outfit that would look average in anyone else but it looked like a masterpiece in him.

You didn't want to let him go so in the spur of the moment, you asked if he knew where to find the orientation for your major, just to find out he was also going there. After that day you two got closer like it was nothing, you were never good at making friends but it seemed so natural with him, like it just happened you didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.

You first realized your feelings for him when he told you he had a date coming up. You felt like throwing up and the ache on your chest just made the whole situation more excruciating.

You avoided him for a week after that, trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him or at least that you could pretend not to be in love with him.

When he showed up at your dorm in the middle of the night looking extremely tired, eye bags under his eyes and hair a mess, he inquired why you were being like that and you suddenly didn't want to pretend anymore. You decided in the split of a second that it was worth it to confess to him, so you did.

He blinked once, twice and for a third time, not letting out a single word, making you suddenly regret everything that you said to him. What if he wanted to end your friendship? You don't think you could handle losing him as your friend too.

But in an unexpected turn of events he stepped close to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you.

“I thought you didn't like me back”, he whispered after pulling away, breathless. “That's why I was trying to move on”

You felt relief wash all over you, so he liked you back it seems.

After months of dating, you still hadn't gone beyond kissing and some light touching. You always let things flow in your relationship, knowing that you two would give the next step when you were ready. And it was sooner than you expected.

The end of the semester had arrived, finals were finally over and you could take a deep breath. You and Minho would meet in the cafe in front of the college gates, grab some coffee and go back to his apartment to watch some movies and cuddle. His roommates would be out tonight partying to celebrate the end of the semester and the apartment would be just yours.

“Fried chicken or pizza?” He asks, scrolling on his phone while selecting something to order.

“Fried chicken?” You ask back, making him glare at you. He hates how indecisive you are so he always tries to give you few options.

“Ordered”, he tells you.

“I'm gonna take a shower”, you get up going to the bathroom.

Your bath is a bit longer than usual, you are not in a hurry today since you can stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow but when you open your eyes there's a surprise in the wall next to you.

“Minho!” You yell, screaming like you just saw a ghost. You grab a towel and jump to the other side of the bathroom, watching as your boyfriend swings the door open, worry in his face.

When he looks at you and sees you are safe and sound, he scowls.

“What is it?” He rushes you, impatiently.

You point out in the bathroom, tears in your eyes.

“Did you make all this scandal because of a cockroach?” He asks, huffing but goes after it and kills it for you.

“You know I hate them”, you make a disgusted face. “They are gross”

He sighs, just now paying attention to you and noticing that you have only a towel covering you. You only remember that fact when his cheeks and ears turn pink and you look down, instantly covering your chest.

“Don't look!” You whine, hiding behind the door.

“Okay! Okay!” He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around and closing the door.

What follows after that is an awkward atmosphere, you are boyfriend and girlfriend but never have seen each other naked. You know it's something that is certain to happen but you never really discussed much about it.

You decide to address the issue when you are already on your second glass of soju. You look at him challengingly, narrowing your eyes.

“I think I should see you without a shirt since you have seen me too”, you tell him. It's not what you wanted to say, you wanted to ask if he ever thought about your first time but the moment you were going to say it you chickened out.

“I haven't seen you without a shirt though”, he says, “you were covered by a towel”

“But that's the equivalent of me being naked in front of you, so now you have to pay me back”, you roll out your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. You're not drunk enough to be doing that but you're definitely embarrassed enough to be doing that.

Minho sighs, knowing you won't drop it. So he puts his hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling it off, revealing his abs.

You can feel your cheeks burning, you have never seen him without a shirt and the only thing that comes to your mind to describe him is: tempting.

You gulped down, feeling a strange pool form in your panties, you can feel it getting soaked.

“I think now it's your time to pay me back”, he raises a brow, making you bite nervously on your bottom lip.

“I'm not wearing a bra”, you whisper, feeling your heart beat faster at each passing second.

“I wasn't either”, he jokes, making you punch him in the arm. When Minho doesn't look away, staring at you intensely, you realize he's being serious about that so you gather all the courage you have, grabbing the rem of your — well, it's actually his, shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall down to the ground as you become completely mesmerized by the look on his face.

Minho has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, lust emanating out of him. You can see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace.

“Can… Can I touch you?” He asks, looking into your eyes desperately and you nod, watching as he comes closer, cupping your breasts with both of his hands. He's on his knees in front of you, kneading on the soft flesh of your chest. Minho pinches your nipple, groaning when you let a moan escape. He's sure it's the prettiest sound he has ever listened to.

He leans over you, taking your lips into his. The way he kisses you stays the same, calm and gentle. He trails wet kisses down your jaw, to your neck, seizing the opportunity to mark you with his teeth, something he loves to do and that's the closest he has ever been to your chest until today. He goes down tracing kisses till he's in front of your breasts, Minho kisses the hill between them and attaches his mouth to the right one, still massaging the left one, pinching the bud eventually because likes to hear you whimper and sigh.

Your hands go to his hair, pressing him against your chest. You have your eyes closed shut, probably an unflattering face of pure pleasure but you really don't care. Minho sucks at your other breast before going down, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

You're embarrassed, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable like that and you really want to have him go down on you but you're a bit scared since your friends always talk about how guys find it a hassle to go down on girls. You know Minho is not an asshole, he won't want you to do the same to him if he can't pleasure you first.

“Can I?” He asks when he notices your hesitancy, his fingers are hooked at the waistband of your sweats, playing with the elastic while you decide if you'll let him continue.

“You don't have to feel obligated”, you bite on your bottom lip, not very sure on what to do next.

“I don't, I really want to do it”, he says, but seeing as you don't look like you believe him, he chuckles. “Chan said he really enjoys going down on his girlfriend, I wanted to try it since we started dating but didn't know how to ask”, you can see his ears turning a dark shade of red, making your heart beat faster.

You nod, feeling more nervous than before.

“Can we kiss a little bit more?” You ask and he nods frantically.

“We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready”, he says, hovering over you and kissing your neck.

“I'm ready”, you cup his face, making him look at you. “I'm just nervous”, you chuckle awkwardly.

“It's fine”, he gives you a peek on the lips. “Should we move to the bed?” He asks and you nod, getting up as Minho collects your things and his, following you to his bedroom.

It takes you half an hour of making out to grab Minho's hand and pull it down to your core, you lift the waistband of your sweats and panties so his hand can find your soaked pussy. He slides one of his fingers between your folds gathering your slick and pressing it on your clit.

“Is it good like this?” He asks, even though your face should give it in right away that he's pleasuring you.

“Yes, please don't stop”, you put your hands on his arms, digging your nails on his skin. Minho chuckles, doing what you asked but also adding another finger, making you open your eyes in an instant to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh”, it's the only thing you can let out when you feel the knot forming on your lower stomach.

He kisses you, turning the experience into something much more deeper. By the way he kisses you, no longer the calm and gentle but now an eager and hungry kiss, you can feel how urgent he's feeling, how much he wants you and that's enough to make you come on his fingers.

You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes just to witness your boyfriend putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. You gulp, feeling a burn run through your body.

“Can I go down on you now?” He asks, eyeing you eagerly and you nod, still too dazed by your orgasm.

Minho doesn't lose time, moving to your bottom part and pulling off your pants and underwear with him. He looks at your pussy enamored, like you're the prettiest creature he has ever seen and that makes you embarrassed, moving your hands to cover yourself but your boyfriend shakes his head, preventing you from continuing.

“Don't cover yourself. You're so beautiful, I have no words to describe it”, he tells you, eyes so sincere you can't even tease him about lying.

You nod once more, laying down comfortably as he trails kisses up your legs. Minho kisses your ankles, then your calves. He follows the path to your knees, kissing the inside of each and then going to your thighs, doing the same thing. When he leans down on your core, you hold your breath, feeling his hitting on your skin. You have goosebumps all over your body when he kisses your clit, making you sigh and let go.

Minho licks a huge strip between your folds, gathering all the juice he can get on his tongue, enjoying your taste. You moan loudly, earning a glance from him, he was so concentrated by his own pleasure on feeling your pussy on his mouth that he forgot to check what was your reaction and he's glad to find that you're enjoying yourself, hands flying to his hair as you pull him more into your cunt. He keeps licking your clit, sucking and even biting just to make you shudder glaring at him. He chuckles every time, making the vibrations stimulate you even more.

Minho puts on a finger, testing the water to see how you react, he puts on another one when you look unbothered by just one, earning a reaction from you as you whine and moan. You can feel your second orgasm of the night being ripped out of you, as he intensifies his sucking on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you.

You let out the louder couple of moans of the night, holding onto the sheets for dear life as you tremble and arch your back in pleasure. You're absolutely fucked out and have no idea how Minho can keep going, his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen, his face is covered on your juice from his mouth until his chin. When he kisses you again, you can feel your own taste on his tongue, making you groan.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your leg. He still has his pants on looking painfully tight.

“You wanna keep going?” He asks and you nod, biting on your lip. “I think Chan has some condoms stocked, I'm gonna take a look”, he starts moving out of the bed but you hold his wrist, pulling him back to you.

“I'm on the pill”, you bite on your bottom lip, “I’ve been taking it since we started dating”, you prop yourself up, leaning on your elbows as you kiss him, “wanna feel you”, you say, making his breath hitch and his face turns red.

He nods, blinking a few times before leaning over to kiss you once more. He gets up quickly, taking off the rest of his clothes and in a second his body hovers over yours as he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your entrance carefully.

“If it hurts, tell me”, he checks with you for the last time and you nod. He starts pushing his cock inside you, your hands are holding him by the shoulders, digging your nails on him but he doesn't seem to mind.

He closes his eyes briefly, feeling your velvet walls squeezing him so much it's hard to keep going. Minho stops when he hears you sniff, opening his eyes just to find your eyes full of tears and trembling lips.

“Am I hurting you? You should say it if I am”, he scolds you gently, something only he can do.

“The first time is supposed to hurt”, you explain.

“But I can do something to make it hurt less if you tell me what you're feeling”, he kisses your forehead, having all the care to not move inside you.

“You're already making it so much more comfortable”, you smile, kissing his nose.

“Maybe you should be on top, that way you can have the control”, he tells you and you ponder for a minute, nodding.

He pulls out of you, making you whine to the sudden loss, making you feel empty. Minho chuckles, kissing you before laying down to watch you be the one to come on top of him.

You grab his cock, position it in your entrance and push it in. You're much more brave than him, Minho thinks, but also you're the one who knows how much pain you can handle so it's only right for you to have the control — at least on your first time.

You sink down on his cock slowly, making him grab the sheets rather than your hips, too afraid to put too much pressure on you and hurt you. Your face tells him you're in pain, but he knows there's not much he can do about it other than soothe you. So he caresses your back with one hand and your face with the other, sliding his hands to your breasts and kneading at them so you can at least relax a bit.

When you finally have all of him inside of you, you sigh, staying still for a couple of minutes. Minho feels like he can explode at any second, you're squeezing him like crazy but he doesn't want to hurry you so he waits for you to move.

You start grinding on him, rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and trying to relax the most. After a while the pain is almost not perceptible and you start riding him at a fast pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, Minho says, finally grabbing at your hips to pull you down on him.

You can't really form coherent sentences, so the chant of “ah-ah-ah” followed by your kisses on him and you marking his chest is the biggest form of communication you can manage at the moment.

Minho thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen, he thought that the moment your eyes lock for the first time and he'll think that until you two are too old to remember what you ate the day before.

When he feels like he's about to cum, he warns you and you nod to let him know you understand but keeps sinking down on him even deeper. He paints your walls white while trembling, his bottom lip stuck between his bunny teeth as he holds your hips with such strength that you know it's gonna bruise. But you don't mind, not at all.

You didn't cum this time, it wasn't as painful as it could be but still painful enough to not edge you.

“I'm sorry you didn't finish”, he pouts as you pull out of him and snuggle yourself in his arms.

“You made me come twice”, you chuckle, making him smile before kissing the top of your head.

“But I wanted to do it a third time”, he huffs.

“We have all the time in the world”, you tell him, resting your chin on his chest as you watch him grin.

“Yes, now you're mine forever”, he giggles to your widened eyes.

“Should I be worried?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“You were already mine from the start, you just didn't know it yet”, he kisses you, pulling away just to stare at you for a few seconds. “I love you”, he confesses and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I love you too”, you say, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again.

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vitalverstappen · 27 days ago

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Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car.

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1.

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams.

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races.

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly.

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics.

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot.

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events.

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?”

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.”

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola.

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results”

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up.

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life.

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!”

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.”

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost.

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened.

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.”

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.”

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship”

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away”

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office.

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?”

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.”

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.”

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that”

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari.

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku.

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working.

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.”

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong.

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship.

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem.

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter.

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.”

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension.

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?”

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.”

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car.

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles.

“Am I defending again?” You asked

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting”

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?”

“Correct.”

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told.

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through.

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory.

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace.

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.”

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?”

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season”

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season”

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal”

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague.

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari.

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans.

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing.

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain”

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment.

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

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goldenstring6123 · 5 months ago

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Lnds: Flowers for the man

Author's note: Requested by Anon! this was interesting to write as I have no idea how to make it different for each character, hehe. I did my best though and I hope you guys like it! Warning: Lengthy read! 5k words! reader is not the mc but works as a hunter (in Xavier's part)

ZAYNE: Blue roses Mystery, aspiration & admiration

The city park was as beautiful as ever, clean and quiet, with only a few people walking about and doing their business. It was Monday, after all, and most people were at work. Meanwhile, you were able to snag a day off, which was pretty rare.

It was too much of a nice day to spend alone, and luckily, a particular surgeon was also on his day off.

You took a little bit more time walking towards your designated meeting area, enjoying the cool spring breeze as it brushed your hair from your shoulders. Off into the distance, you could see that tall silhouette standing by, looking at his phone, before pressing it against his ear.

With a much quicker pace, you came closer.

"Yvonne, it's my day off." Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose shortly after. "Yes, do tell him I'd appreciate it if he respected my decision," he paused. "Yes, I informed him, and I finished all my paperwork before I left last night."

From the tone of his voice, it seemed like Zayne was slowly transitioning into a sour mood. You looked around, almost instinctively looking for something to cheer him up.

Maybe there's a stall somewhere offering some sweet treats?

There were none in the vicinity. Except for the quaint flower store. Can flowers cheer up Dr. Zayne? It can certainly keep him company in the office until it wilts. You looked for a flower that suited the doctor. Perched atop a wooden display of colorful flora, hyacinths, cacti, snake plants, and… blue roses? That's unique!

You made an effort to tiptoe to the inside of the store, keeping your eyes on Zayne, who failed to notice your presence and was still on his phone call, his sour mood amplifying his annoyance.

The bell by the door emitted a wonderful chime to your ears, and from the counter emerged a beautiful lady wearing a cherry-colored apron. She smiled at the sight of you approaching.

"Hello, ma'am, how much for the blue flower in front?" you asked. She named her price and took one out of the flower fridge, swiftly and professionally folding some colorful paper to wrap it around with. She finished off with the golden ribbon, tying the whole thing together.

You peek out through the front window. Perfect timing! Zayne was no longer on his phone. His back was turned towards you, and you couldn't help but admire the broadness of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist in his dress shirt.

In order to surprise him, you hurriedly ran to bury your face in the crook of his back. As expected, he flinched at the sensation before recognizing an arm that wrapped around his waist. "You're here." He was trying to turn around to look at you, but you stuck to his back like a mouse stuck to a glue trap.

"Close your eyes first, Zayne," you chirped. He stopped moving.

"Is this one of your pranks again?"

"Oh, just do it! C'mon, please?" You cooed at him and buried your nose against his back once more, taking a sniff at the faint detergent scent. You could see his elbows shift and his face rise, lightly covering his eyes. You let go and get on your knees as if you're proposing. With the singular blue rose raised up to him, you tell him to open his eyes. "You can look now, Dr. Zayne."

He slowly opened his eyes, seeing that you were not in his line of sight. He looked back and then forward again before looking down. Zayne's eyes were devoid of thought before slowly, a sheen of light coated his eyes, and the image of you kneeling and offering him a blue rose finally sank in.

At that moment, his heart stopped beating, and his mind conjured up only a single thought. This woman enamors me beyond human comprehension. The park was quiet, with no one in sight—only the two of you on the trail, sandwiched by beautiful pink and green trees. Faintly, he could hear church bells ringing in the distance.

"A blue rose for the coolest surgeon in Akso Hospital," you grinned. You got up and waited for him to take the rose; he did, but before you let him say anything, you pulled him by his collar and roughly placed a quick kiss before pulling an inch away and whispering, "And a devoted lover to the luckiest girl in Linkon City."

Everything became much more evident at that instant. Any doubts Zayne has on his mind, any insecurities, or any worries about the future. Everything dissipated like snow on a sunny day. Zayne's smile appeared as you pulled away. His gaze was turning softer, and his cheeks showed that tinted pinkish hue you always adored.

The sight of his annoyed face became a distant memory. "Thank you; I'll put this on the vase on my desk in the hospital." Zayne placed a kiss on your forehead.

"You're welcome! You do your best to make my day, so I want to do so as well." Your fingers intertwined as you and your partner began to walk to wherever you were going.

"You always make my day; I've told you that countless times."

"Yeah, but a while ago, you looked like you were having a bad time with that phone call."

Both of you stopped in your tracks, and you barely saw his face in surprise. "You saw that? I apologize, that was…"

"There's nothing wrong about it, Zayne."

He lets out a sigh before reaching out for your palm. Without a word exchanged between you, his hands made gestures atop your palm, encompassing it with a cool breeze and glowing blue hue. For a brief moment, your palm turned icy cold until it lifted slightly. The image of a small blue, icy ring appeared on your palm. It had a small, beautiful flower as its focal point, and you couldn't help but marvel at its beauty.

"This is my gift for the flower." He smiled, picking the ring up and sliding it onto your middle finger.

"Dr. Zayne, are you proposing to me?!" you jokingly asked, exaggerating your tone to not make him feel pressured.

He chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "Not yet, but maybe in the near future," he mumbled. "You deserve a better ring than the one I made."

"Oh, so romantic, you're going to make me have heart problems."

"I certainly hope not." Zayne let out a hearty laugh at your joke.

XAVIER: Daisies Innocence, New beginnings and cheerfulness

"Xavier?" you called out in the forest. Only the birds responded to your call. "Xavier, Nero said he was sorry!" you added.

Still, there no response.

This wouldn't have happened had Nero been more careful.

It was summer, and unfortunately, the wanderers were at their peak, disturbing more provincial areas than usual. You and Xavier had to be dispatched on opposite sides of the city, reducing your time together. It had been exactly a month and a half since you and Xavier met face-to-face, and tomorrow should be the only time when you have matching leaves.

If only Nero didn't screw up the day-off schedule he submitted to Jenna.

Well, you can understand Xavier's frustrations, and quite honestly, you predicted that he would at least complain, but to see him walk out? It was something.

The forest you were in was no stranger to you. This was the small buffer space between the city and the field where you and Xavier liked to hang out. It was once a decrepit land devoid of flora and fauna, yet it developed and managed to change into a beautiful flower field over time. On the horizon, you can see that area; with it, you can see Xavier standing and staring at the blue sky.

Your heart ached at the sight. He looked lonely.

You took a step closer, stepping on the patches of grass that led to his spot. It had been a while since you visited the field, and you couldn't help but reminisce about the calm mornings you'd spent with him here. Xavier heard your footsteps and felt your presence but ultimately chose to stay in the same position, not sparing you a glance. After all, the look of silent anger still lingered on his face. Turning your back to him as well, you squat down to your knees, hugging them while fiddling with a white, singular daisy near your shoes.

"Nero says he's sorry," you stated matter-of-factly.

"Of course he would," Xavier replied. He let out a sigh, easing out the tension in his back and shoulders. "I just… I was looking forward to our day off." He can't help but rub the back of his neck, absorbing the fact that he walked out rudely on his co-worker.

"I was too, Xavier," you replied back. Silence.

"I missed you a lot." You picked the daisy flower and watched as one tiny petal fell onto the grass; it looked like a small cloud falling gently. "I know we call and text every day, but that isn't enough for me either, so I get why you're mad." Gentle, comforting words escaped your lips.

"I'm sorry you had to see me walk out," he whispered.

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

Another minute of silence; this time, something was yearning to be said, not by you but by Xavier.

"Things are dangerous for us hunters," Xavier began. "You never really know when you or someone else can die at the hands of wanderers." The image of the past flashed itself into his vision. A colleague is sitting up against a rock, bleeding and clutching the only picture he has of his wife and daughter. "And… it's frightening, even for me. I guess I'm lucky enough to work for the same company as you, but knowing what we need to go through daily, I just want to make the most of our time whenever possible." Because I don't want to regret not seeing you in case something happens. His words didn't need a reply from you. You twisted the flower's trunk, wrapping the stem's end towards the bottom of the flower. You weaved it together and slipped it on your finger. It nearly slid to the side because you made the loop too big. You took it off and knelt on the grass; hearing that crunch was satisfying. Xavier was still facing away from you even when you turned.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt, and finally, he turned to you, looking down as you knelt on the grass on one knee. No words were exchanged between you at that moment; only the chirping of birds filled the silence in the air. Your hand gently took his own, and he stared promptly.

The daisy looked even more beautiful the moment you slid it onto his ring finger. It looked bright and wonderful against his long and slender fingers. You kissed his hand gently, like kissing an infant. Your lips brushed against his knuckles like silk gliding against his skin.

You finally looked at him as well, and you could immediately catch the redness of his ears. "Cheer up, Xavier." You cooed at him. "There's no way of telling when we're going to last see each other, and hopefully we don't ever go through that."

Xavier helped you get on your feet and took a small step closer to you. "So, let's spend every moment we can together, even just 30 minutes during our lunch times. Besides, we're just busy because it's the summer. Any other season, we're good to go."

"Yeah, you're right," he replied, intertwining your fingers together with ease. He wrapped his other hand around you and nudged you for a hug, which you happily gave him. Unknowingly, he looked at the hand with the flower ring, a smile creeping up his face.

At that moment, all his anger had subsided, and the memory of you sliding on the ring was the only thought that occupied his head. Xavier likes giving you flowers, and you know he likes being given food, but this little, simple gift felt more special than anything else.

His heart thumped against his chest very loudly, and you could only chuckle, finally clinging to his neck. You kissed his jaw and buried your face at the crook of his neck, letting out a breath you unconsciously held in. It was nice to know that Xavier was no longer angry.

"I love you," you told the wind.

"I love you too." Xavier's embrace made your heart overflow with happiness, and even with that simple gesture, it was more than evident that you were captivated with each other in more ways than one.

RAFAYEL: Hydragreas Gratitude, understanding & heartfelt emotions

'Do me a favor, please,' Thomas pleaded. 'Rafayel has been in a foul mood since yesterday, and I don't know why, but he has an upcoming exhibition next Tuesday. He says he doesn't want to come. It's really important and could cost him his career and mine.'

Those were the poor words of Thomas, who called you yesterday at 12 in the morning. You can't remember exactly why Rafayel was in a bad mood, but you were certainly sure that you agreed to help everyone just so you could go back to sleep.

You can't help but let out a sigh. It was already hard enough to ask Rafayel on a date with his moodiness, but you managed to get him to meet you at the park. He was against it at first, making excuses like he was out on a trip or doing a painting, but with a bit more perseverance, you managed to let him say yes.

Now, the next problem is: How do you cheer up a grumpy boyfriend? A kiss wouldn't be enough, that's for sure. It's too early to coax him with special methods. He doesn't really like sweets, and he's super sensitive when he's mad; you can't make fun of him.

Your boots clacked rhythmically on the pavement, your eyes wandering about for inspiration or a clue on how you could brighten Rafayel's day. What's something that can make him blush? That's certainly one way of getting rid of his anger.

Something unexpected. Something you haven't really given to him yet.

Something fragrant.

Colorful

Something from the shop directly beside you. "Bloomscape" is the small wooden signage displayed. A beautiful, tall plant crept up the brick corners of the single-floor structure. A stair-like display rack carried baskets of different green grasses and arranged bouquets.

A light bulb popped over your head.

You made your way inside the quaint shop. You explored your options, admiring the wonderful displays of the plants. The colors were so vibrant and beautiful, similar to the paints that Rafayel would use in his works. There was one bouquet that caught your eye the most. It looked like an arrangement for a wedding, dawning a light blue hue mixed with white roses and round leaves. He would like this. You could imagine him smelling the thing.

"I'll take one of those," fingers pointed at the arrangement. The lady nodded and took the best one off of the display, placing it in a paper bag for you. You hummed as you left the little shop, eager to show the flowers to your boyfriend.

Rafayel sat on a lonesome bench hidden from the main pathway of the park. You've seen him once or twice there, so it wasn't really much of a surprise when he was there now. According to him, he liked that seat because it was under a tree and away from people. He could think and bask in silence at that particular spot.

You lowered your stance as you came to approach him. Carefully avoiding the sticks to not make a sound. You placed the paper bag down on the ground and carefully snaked both of your arms around his waist. He flinched at an unexpected sensation, wanting to turn his head, but you didn't let him by lowering your head to his shoulders.

"Hello!" you chided.

"Did you really have to sneak up on me like that?" Rafayel sounded a tad bit annoyed.

"I do," you replied back. "Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes? Why?" Rafayel raised an eyebrow. You can't help but intently stare at him. He stared back, the wrinkle on his eyebrows disappearing. "Alright, fine, but I'm leaving if there's anything that involves cats." Rafeyel closed his eyes.

"No peeking!" You hopped over the bench as you would over a barricade and took out the flower from the bag, immediately getting on your knees. You straightened your back and held the bouquet properly, stretching it closer to his face.

"Open," you ordered. He squinted and looked down at the blue and white glow of the flowers before letting his eyes go wide. He blinks once and then repeatedly. His hands wrapped around my own, and he finally held onto it, somewhat perplexed.

"Did you, did you just…" He scoffed, looking away before looking back at you with a betrayed face. "Did you just propose to me? Wasn't I the one who was supposed to do that? Are we switching gender roles now?" His expression was undoubtedly something, but you were 100% sure it was not anger.

Not when his ears were as red as a tomato. Rafayel was simply bluffing. I guess this guy has a hard time saying thank you when he's flustered.

"I would if I gave you a ring," you mumbled. You dusted off your knees and slipped both of your palms into his jaws, urging him to look up at me. Rafayel's eyes were bright underneath the dispersed light of the trees. "I heard from Thomas that you were in a bad mood, so I wanted to cheer you up."

"Thomas, that snitch." He pouted and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'll get back at him when I see him in his office!"

"You can't blame a guy who wants you happy." I squish his cheeks and plant a kiss on his puckered lips. "He knows you were in a bad mood; cut him some slack." Rafayel's frown quickly dissipated into nothingness, and he voluntarily turned his head to the side and then pressed it against my stomach.

Were you cheering him up? You honestly weren't so sure, but Rafayel looked like he needed that gift to brighten his day.

"I wanted to cheer you up in a new way, so I got you flowers. Do you like them? They're the prettiest in the whole shop."

"Yes, they're very pretty," Rafayel mumbled again, his ears turning slightly pinkish. You were caught off guard when he turned his head up to look at you, again frowning. "But I'm more pretty than these flowers, right?" His eyes were staring deep into yours, impatiently waiting for that sweet yes from those lips.

There it was—a perfect opportunity to coax him. "You can be if you give me a smile."

He looked at you like he was being deceived, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like he normally would. "So you're saying I'm ugly when I don't smile? That's a mean thing to say coming from my girlfriend!"

A breeze blew past you two, sweeping your soft hair to your cheeks. You laughed at your boyfriend's endearing childishness, recalling why you really love to poke fun at Rafayel sometimes. "You're the prettiest fish in the sea, Rafayel. The most wonderful flower in the garden, the cutest cat in Linkon City—"

"Cat?!"

You purposefully hook your index finger underneath his chin and say, "And the most handsome boyfriend of mine." Before letting him say anything, you took the opportunity to peck him on the lips to shut him up for the time being. You leaned back to study his oh-so-beautiful face. Off of a peck, he was already intoxicated. How adorable. "As of now, at least." You stuck your tongue out to mock him.

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that." He wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you closer to his lap, finally kissing you deeper. "Thank you for the flowers; I appreciate it."

That's a job well done for you. You deserved a treat for making your boyfriend happy.

"Alright, now that you're no longer mad, let's go to a restaurant. They serve the best shrimp pasta and fermented wine." With an outstretched hand, you waited for him to take it. Rafayel chuckled and sniffed the bouquet, locking his fingers with yours and swaying it forward and backward.

SYLUS: Black Dahlias Sadness and betrayal or Grace beneath pressure

The warm evening breeze was a wonderful sensation against your chilly cheeks and nose. It had been a while since fall had started, and the city was basked in a warm hue of orange and yellow leaves.

You can't help but shiver in your scarf. Maybe you should've worn more layers.

It was rare for Sylus to ask you to meet in broad daylight. Knowing him, he'd usually be at work during the afternoons and evenings, and he frequently worked in the N109 zone rather than in Linkon City.

'I have some business in Linkon City today; let's meet in the afternoon.'

"Wow, so you won't even ask if I'm free?"

'I know your schedule is free, sweetie; our calendars are synced.'

'Plus, you owe me another date for sleeping in on me last time.'

'hehe, alright. I'll meet you at the park. By the fountain? '

'by the fountain.'

It was rare to see the park so empty. Usually, at a time like this, the park should be filled with children running about with their pets and families running amok in the dull grassy field.

There was a magazine stand at the corner where you and Sylus would meet. While you were a few meters away, you could see him reading a newspaper and conversing with the old stall owner, who was reading the same material. You can't hear their conversation, but Sylus was certainly not happy.

You could recognize that frown anywhere, especially those knitted eyebrows. Uh-oh.

It's been a while since you've last seen that face, and of all times, it's reappearing now. A moody syllable is someone who's a bit hard to cheer up, and you don't want to waste the evening trying to do so. What can you do to cheer him up?

A small wind chime caught your attention. You turned to your left and saw a cute but lonesome little flower shop and a couple exiting holding a bouquet of flowers. The arrangements were undoubtedly pretty, especially under the warm pixie lights, yet none of the flowers really suited Sylus. In fact, Sylus and Flowers really don't seem to belong with each other, but maybe that's why you were enticed to buy him one in the hopes of cheering up his mood.

You entered the store, and the lady greeted you with a hello.

"Good evening. Do you have a flower that looks—?" Your thoughts wandered for a split second, reveling at the fact that you were unprepared for this conversation. "—cool?"

"Cool?" The flower lady tilted her head in confusion, much like yourself. "Like a cold flower? Or a blue-colored plant?"

"Oh, no, no." You scratched the back of your head and went a little closer. "A flower that suits an image of a cool, mysterious person." Unsure of how helpful that would be, you stared at the lady in anticipation, hoping that she would get what you meant.

"Hm, we have peonies." She gestured to various peonies of different colors, ranging from pink to a dark maroon shade. The dark-colored flower is certainly pretty, but it doesn't look suitable for Sylus. You shook your head.

"Anything else?"

"How about…" She disappeared into the back room and brought out a small bucket full of beautiful black flowers. "These? Black Dhalias; they're freshly delivered." You can't help but stare at the flowers. The image of the flowers on his nightside table popped into your head. It looked just about right.

"I'll take four of these, please."

The lady arranged it for you beautifully and even gave you a discount. Before you left, she gave you a wave of goodbye. You were suddenly hit once more by the cold autumn air and the dimming lights of the sky. The lamps were now turned on, illuminating the park beautifully.

You sneaked around the corner and saw Sylus gone, yet he was sitting on a bench, reading a different magazine. A pink magazine hat looks uncanny in his grasp. You tiptoed to the back of the bench and squeezed the flowers in between your thighs. You gently covered his eyes.

"Hah, brave of you to attack me from behind, Sweetie." His voice let out a melodious chuckle at your actions.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting; I had to pick something up from nearby." You still kept your hands over his eyes. "It's my gift for you."

"Is it a gun? Did you manage to steal a gun from your company's armory and give it to me?"

"That would be a crime, Sylus, and no, it's not a gun; it's something you wouldn't receive from any other girl except for me. Take a guess."

Sylus was bemused by what you said. He's received many things in his life and is not short of a single object. His fingers closed the pink date spot magazine and chucked it to the side before crossing his legs.

"A kiss?"

"I give you that practically every day!"

"Is it another plushie?" "No..try again."

"Your Lingerie—"

"SYLUS!" you shrieked, stopping him from finishing his words. "You're bad at guessing; you know what? Just keep your eyes closed." You carefully peel your hands away from his eyes. Sylus didn't move an inch.

"Are they closed?"

"My eyes are perfectly closed. I can't see a thing, sweetie."

While he sat on the bench, you made your way around him and got on your knees. The bouquet rustled in your clasp, making Sylus shift slightly in his seat. You held the flowers up to him, and their wafting scent gave him a cue to open his eyes.

"I got you flowers. As an apology for being late and sleeping on our last date," you let out a goofy grin while waiting for Sylus to grab the gift from your palms. He grabbed it and placed it in his own arms.

For a minute, he stared at the flowers in disbelief. You were right: It was a gift he never received from any other girl. Sylus thought that the first and last time he would receive a flower was on his deathbed, which was practically never. Still, here he is, sitting in a park on a random evening, his lover overtaking him with a flower like she was about to ask for his hand in marriage.

A genuinely baffling sight, even for the leader of Onychinus.

He was certainly the type to dislike flowers, especially the vibrant ones, but the black dahlias you gave him suits him well. The scene was also beautiful and would most definitely fit on the vase he has in his office. Absent-mindedly, Sylus stood up, which caught you off guard. For the first time, you couldn't comprehend the expression on his face. He certainly wasn't angry, nor did he look disgusted, but he wasn't happy either.

"I'm giving you five seconds to run, sweetie," he said. You froze at his words, bewildered. Was he not happy with the flowers?! Did he not like them?!

"Five." He started counting.

It was like all hell broke loose at that instant. Before anything else could happen, you got up, disregarding the dirt on your knees, and ran towards the city. You dug your own grave when you gave him the flowers. With all the speed you can muster, you manage to get to the street where the city is. You crossed the road and turned back, seeing Sylus chasing you among the throngs of people.

What the heck is wrong with him?! He doesn't seem particularly mad, but what did he really work up over the flowers?

You turned into an alleyway in between two random shops. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and you just needed to stop for a bit. The brick wall of the store pressed against your coat, and puffs of smoke escaped from your mouth as you wheezed in silence.

"Where is he?" you mumbled. You peeked out of the alley only to sense that ever-familiar, spine-chilling breeze when he teleported. In a blink of an eye, you were yanked deeper into the dim area, Sylus pushing you against the cold and damp wall.

"I caught you," he stated, blocking any way for you to exit.

You balled your fist and aimed for his gut, lightly jabbing it. "What the heck?!" Relief washed over you like a tide when you saw the gentle smile on his face. The fear of his wrath disappeared rather quickly, which made your muscles relax. "I thought you were going to kill me!"

He kept his lips shut. Under the dark shadow of the alleyway, you could still see the vibrant red glow of his eyes. Quietly, you leaned forward, letting your chest press against his own, and your feet raised you the highest they could. He was a tall man, and it was hard to reach his lips, so with one hand, you yanked his turtleneck, and with your other hand, you wrapped it around his neck.

He resisted first and let him laugh through his nose. Softly, your lips pressed against his own, and you patiently waited for him to return the gesture; he did, albeit rougher and hungrier. You didn't know how it happened, but the next moment, his tongue was inside your mouth, exploring every crevice and getting that sweet and flavorful taste like a deprived man.

Your body burned at the sensation; erotic sounds were escaping from both of your lips. His hand rested on the dip of your back, holding you closer to him. To Sylus, you weighed nothing more than a weighted blanket; moreover, you were warm to the touch, which he found soothing. "Why did you make me run?"

"Because I know you'll find a place to hide from me," Sylus said, tucking stray hair behind your ear. "And I get to kiss you out in public."

"You…know you could've just kissed me in the park, right?"

"So you want to let people see us all hot and bothered?" You could see his eyebrow arch.

"Fair point. Kiss me again," you demanded. "I need compensation for that flower."

Sylus let out a laugh. "What kind of person demands compensation for a gift? You're certainly the only one who does that, sweetie." Again, he pushed himself closer to your face and pulled on your back. "But I'll happily oblige."

Amidst the noise of the busy streets in autumn, hidden from the blaring lights of the vibrant city, you and Sylus remain hidden in your own little alleyway, holding each other like teenagers in love at the peak of their youth.

'What a beautiful season,' you thought.

Author footnotes: I'm trying to go back to a story-telling format. It's been a while since I've done that! Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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eddiestightywhities · 1 month ago

Text

also on ao3 HERE

“So, I overheard this guy in the line at the coffee shop this morning talking about name meanings—”

“Of course you did,” Eddie interjects, not unkindly.

Buck turned up with beers about a half hour ago, and has had his head in his phone for the last, what, twenty minutes? Something like that.

This is the first thing he's said since Eddie let him in and he sat his ass down on the couch in silence, looking like he needed Eddie to just allow him to.

Eddie did.

“—and I thought I'd look up ours.”

He's chewing on his bottom lip like it tastes good.

Eddie surprises himself by wondering if it does.

“I'm guessing you already know what Christopher means.”

Thinking back to when Shannon asked if he liked the name, Eddie smiles.

“Means 'Bearer of Christ', or something, right? We chose it because was Shannon's grandfather's name, though. He was Greek, and she adored him.”

Searching fingers instinctively find his pendant. It's positioned to the left, sitting right over his heart.

He misses his son like he'd miss a lung.

Buck looks up at him and smiles back, and Eddie feels glad the release he'd found dancing 'round his living room earlier isn't going to suddenly disappear down the bathroom sinkhole, along with his moustache.

“So, tell me, what does Edmundo mean, oh scholarly one?”

Buck's eyebrows try to meet his hairline.

“You don't know?”

Eddie tips his head back against the couch and scrunches his mouth up into nose.

“I have sisters, man, of course I know what it means. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me.”

Buck seems somewhat happy with that.

“Well, it's a derivative of the Old English name Edmund, which is a combination of the words ēad and mund. The first part means prosperity, or riches, which is a bit of a bust, sorry man,” and he tries for a grin. It almost hits.

“But the the mund part means protector—which is pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Buck's eyelashes are kind of blonde, and kind of pretty. Eddie's thought it before, but there's just something about them in this light, in Eddie's house, on Eddie's couch.

“It's actually a real pretty name, Edmundo. Don't know if I've ever told you I think that.”

“Don't think I've ever told you your eyelashes are kind of pretty, so that makes us even, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at Buck, big and genuine, and somehow it's so easy.

Buck smiles back. Looks a little confused, or pleased, or both. Eddie's not sure, but either is okay with him.

“Um, thanks?”

Eddie bites his tongue between his teeth in a poor effort to stop his grin turning positively goofy.

Buck takes it for what it is, and bats his eyelashes at Eddie, silly, and laughs.

His whole demeanor then changes as he finally settles properly into the couch and gifts his lungs with what might be the first proper breath he's taken since he arrived.

“Anyway, Evan is the worst of the three. It means yew, like the tree? Which is—it symbolises, like, spirituality, and rebirth and shit like that. 'S not really, uh, me, you know?”

“You mean like Evan isn't really you?”

Buck bites at his red, red lip again.

Eddie decides it'd taste like cherry Chupa Chups.

“Yeah. But it's—my name.”

“Except it isn't though, it's it?” Eddie reminds him. “You're name is Buck, Buck. You decided that.”

“I don't know why he always insisted on calling me Evan. Or why I just—let him. It was kind of weird.”

Tommy.

"Called? Past tense?” Eddie flips his tongue in his mouth. Breathes a little more deliberately.

Buck looks at his phone again before he's slowly placing it down on the couch between them.

His fingers are touching the outside of Eddie's thigh, and Eddie's suddenly acutely aware that he still isn't wearing any pants.

Buck leaves his hand where it is.

“He, uh, he dumped me. Because I—”

Buck sucks in oxygen, a lot of it, and holds it in his lungs before puffing out his cheeks as he makes a show of blowing it back out again.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

Eddie was not expecting either of those statements.

"Ouch.”

Buck's fingers twitch against Eddie's skin, and Eddie feels it travel right down his leg and into his toes, which curl involuntarily into the carpet.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers, kind of knowing Buck doesn't. He will when he's ready.

“Not really.”

Eddie licks at his lips. They taste like beer, and a little like confidence.

“How about Buck?”

Buck looks at him, perplexed.

Eddie's leg is starting to cramp a bit.

He doesn't move it.

“A Buck is another name for a stag, right?” he continues. “And the stag symbolises strength and purity—

“Don't forget fertility” Buck is looking at Eddie, and it feels like something.

Eddie snorts. “'Course, don't wanna forget fertility.”

Buck smiles the first proper Buck smile of the evening, and Eddie's feels it in his chest.

“Hey, hang on, how come you know so much about stags, Edmundo?”

“You did that project with Chris about the forest.”

Buck blinks at him.

“Dude that was, like, years ago. And, as you said, I was the one learning all about the woodland creatures and different types berries and toadstools, so how do you—”

“Because you told me,” Eddie shrugs a shoulder.

Buck blinks some more.

“And you—remembered that?” he asks.

In this moment, Eddie couldn't blink, nor look away from Buck, even if somebody were to pay him.

“I remember everything you tell me.”

It's weird but it's like the air itself is crackling as they sit here, just staring at each other.

They look at each other for what feels like a long time. Or maybe it's just a single heartbeat, Eddie can't really be sure.

He watches as Buck swallows, his Adam's apple a calling card.

Eddie isn't entirely sure of why he thinks of that.

Until he is.

When Buck moves his hand, it's to slide it fully onto Eddie's thigh to just sit there, right at home.

Eddie's suddenly blinking so much he's a little worried he might be stroking.

He doesn't mean to say, “Can you smell toast?” but finds himself saying it anyway.

Buck smile is both crooked and adorable.

“You worried you're having a stroke, old man?”

“We'd have been at the same school at the same time, Buck. I'm not that much older than you.”

“You are old and I am young and everyone and the universe knows this,” Buck claims, cocky and sure of himself once more.

Eddie licks at his lips again.

“I, uh, I think I finally believe you.”

Buck now mirrors him, licking his own lips.

Cherry Chupa Chups.

“You mean about the universe?” he's asking, like he doesn't almost always knew what Eddie means.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Buck waits.

Just as Eddie is thinking he really should go put some on some sweats or something, Buck must get impatient because he replies, “I think it always wanted you to believe.”

Eddie doesn't have a clue what time it is, or whether he had dinner or not, or how he got so damn lucky.

“I'm gonna choose to believe, because you believe—and I believe in you, Buck” he says, somehow both sure and unsure of absolutely everything that is to come.

At long last, he finds he is totally okay with that.

“Anyways, I can hear it now,” he tells Buck, “and I'm listening.”

unedited; pls be kind!

edited version now found HERE on ao3 if you'd like to pop across and leave me a comment xp

#this just happened #buddie #buddie fic #911 spoilers #911 #911 fic #coda for s08e06: confessions #evan buckley #eddie diaz #pov eddie #after the phantoms of your former self #fanfic #queer fic #queer writer #qww writes #queerweewoo

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hotchner-edu · 6 months ago

Text

As We Fall | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: After you accidentally go on a blind date with Aaron, Jack must bear witness to the fruits of his error. — part 2 of this

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (r is over 22, Aaron is in his late 40s), fluff, Jack

Accidentally being set up with Aaron had to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. Unfortunately, being together with Aaron also meant having to face Jack (who was literally responsible for the entire ordeal).

“I have three rules.” Jack says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. You and Aaron were sat on the couch together, having just come back from your third official date.

“Jack, you already gave us this talk after the blind date.” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow when Aaron huffs softly under his breath in amusement.

After you and Aaron finished making out in his car the night of your blind date, you both agreed it would be good for you to come over so that you could both speak with Jack. Your best friend had only been playfully upset, but he did bring up some genuine boundaries he wanted to set and you both respected them.

Now, it seems he's adding on to those boundaries, but you could tell he was only being half-serious.

Jack’s hands fly up, waving in exaggerated motions as he gives you the infamous Hotchner stare. “Three new rules.”

“Let’s hear them.” Aaron speaks up, smiling at his son in fondness.

Jack immediately springs into his antics, clearly having thoroughly thought about these new expectations. “First rule is no sex—and I mean at all! Second, dad you don’t get to hang out with her more than me, I was here first. Third—and I really mean this, absolutely under no circumstances will I call Y/N mom.”

You snort at the catalogue of rules he’s laying out, seeing the smile that he’s unsuccessfully trying to suppress from his face. Aaron chuckles loudly and shakes his head, “Jack, the last two we can both agree on. The first one though…”

“Yeah, I mean have some humanity.” You add, the grin on your face growing even wider when you see Jack’s immediate nauseated frown.

“Okay, gross. And fine… I guess… ugh, okay, actually I don’t want to imagine that so just do whatever you both want. But only when I’m not home, thank you and please.” He rubs his temples and grimaces a bit in playful exasperation.

You gaze at your best friend with a much gentler expression and nod. “Of course, Jack. You don’t have to worry about any of that.”

Aaron gives your shoulder a squeeze just as his phone rings, the three of you falling silent as you all know that it means. His arm remains wrapped around you as he picks up the call. "Hotchner... Alright, I'll be there in twenty."

Sighing, you loll your head to the side and smile knowingly. "Duty calls."

"I'm sorry, honey." He mumbles and gives you a kiss and one last squeeze before he's clambering up from the couch and hurrying up the stairs to change and grab his go-bag.

"How long do you think he'll be gone this time?" Jack muses curiously.

You shrug and look after Aaron's fleeing figure. "I'd reckon four or five days."

"Four days of having my best friend to myself or four days of listening to you whine about missing him... I have a feeling it'll be the latter." Jack says jokingly, head falling back to lay on the couch cushion.

"I'll be sure to keep it to a minimum." You shake your head and stand up, stretching your arms above your head a bit before looking back down at him. "You're sure you're completely okay with me dating Aaron?"

"You've asked me that like thirty times in the past two weeks." He snorts, eyeing you with a teasingly drained expression. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine with it. If I had an issue, I would have ghosted you the first time you told me you had a crush on him."

"Yeah, there's no way that was going to happen. Who else is going to pick you up from parties and nurse you through your heartbreaks?" You were quick to retort, a chuckle racking through your chest when he launches one of the decorative throw pillows at you.

Hurrying away, you head up the stairs and pad towards Aaron's bedroom. He's rushing around his room, tie undone around his neck as he shoves something into his go-bag.

"Need a hand?" Your voice breaks through his trance, his head snapping in your direction.

Approaching him, you deftly tie and adjust his tie, your hands smoothing down his shirt and resting against his chest.

"Very handsy." He utters gently, a tender look painting his stare.

You pull his tie to bring his face closer to yours. "Gonna miss you." You whisper and kiss him softly.

"I'll miss you too, honey. I'll get back to you as quick as possible." He mumbles reassuringly, hands moving to squeeze your hips. "Want a souvenir?" He asks kindly, lips twitching with a teasing smile.

"Just bring yourself back in one piece." You answer, hugging him tightly.

His strong arms wrap around you, one his hands cupping the back of your head lightly to keep you against him as he drinks in the comfort of your hold.

After a few moments, he pulls away and kisses you firmly, conveying the words and concerns he has no time to voice. Silently, you both pull apart and you move to help him double check his go-bag, seeing that he's slipped a small photo of you inside one of the pockets.

The photo is from your second date together at the aquarium. Aaron had snapped the shot of you while you were both in the shark tunnel, your face illuminated in blues and whites from the water.

You don't mention it, zipping up the bag and carrying it for him as he slips on his suit jacket. He takes the bag from your hold as soon as his hands are free, lacing his fingers through yours with his other hand.

"We're going to Atlanta. It'll be too late for me to call at night, so I'll try to call during my lunch breaks." He says, squeezing your hand as he leads you down the hallway.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I can stay up late. I'm not quite as old as you yet." You teasingly remark, swinging your joined hands a bit.

He exhales through his nose in a mixture of fondness and resignation. "Still, I don't want you staying up too late just to wait for my phone calls."

"And I don't want you to worry yourself about making phone calls while you're working on the case." You immediately counter, not wanting him to wear himself down for your sake.

Aaron shakes his head and leads you down the stairs. "I'm not just going to go radio silent on you, honey. And..." he stops in his tracks to look back at you, a coy smirk on his face. "I'll have Jack leave us alone when I come back so we can make up for lost time."

You blush brightly at the insinuation, huffing and shaking your head. "Horny old man." You mumble, kissing his cheek before continuing down the stairs.

"I really hate you both."

Jack's voice cuts through the dulcet atmosphere surrounding the two of you as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, nose scrunched.

"This time it's his fault, not mine." You giggle, immediately throwing Aaron under the bus.

"Thanks, honey." Aaron drawls out with a lighthearted eye roll.

"Dad, I love you and stay safe, but please leave right now before my eyeballs melt out of my eye sockets." Jack says, opening the front door and gesturing for him to quickly leave.

Aaron chuckles and sighs. "Now we can't have that, now can we." He turns to you and gives you another kiss. "I'll be back before you know it, baby." He says softly and moves his hand to squeeze your waist.

"I'll be waiting." You whisper back with a small smile. You can hear Jack tapping away on his phone by the door, chiming in again after a few more seconds pass.

"It's a good thing you're not a first responder, dad."

part 3 here

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds aaron imagine

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