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sebscore · 4 months ago

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this.

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol.

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race.

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.''

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue.

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it.

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media.

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped.

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain.

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?''

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.''

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed.

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.''

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.''

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.''

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed.

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.''

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job.

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her.

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her.

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.''

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up.

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident. I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.''

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?''

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.''

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic.

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.''

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one.

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her.

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable.

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name.

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race.

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep.

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner.

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.''

''Have you spoken to her yet?''

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use.

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.''

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on.

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.''

''Thank you.''

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong?

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite.

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.''

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought.

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?''

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.''

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.''

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!''

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell.

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.''

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone."

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm.

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.''

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason.

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said.

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason.

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.''

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?''

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.''

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.''

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back.

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment.

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.''

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.''

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.''

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted.

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word.

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.''

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby.

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady.

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again.

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?''

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her.

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind.

Are they still friends?

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible.

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before.

Are they still friends?

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #f1 grid x reader #female f1 driver #f1 x reader #f1 x female driver

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iamred-iamyellow · 2 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result.

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy.

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race.

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went.

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car.

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded.

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco.

“Is she ok?” he asked.

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink.

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip.

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing.

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You

is there red bull in this?

+1800******

yea

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name.

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #fornula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 one shot

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maxlarens · 5 months ago

Note

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto’s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely.

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

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#🍓anon #oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #oneshots:op81 #driver!reader

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mickyschumacher · 1 year ago

Text

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: being in a secret relationship with lando norris has been a journey in itself. but nothing comes harder than the moments where you both struggle to keep your hands off one another.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before your tap it lol), cumming inside, voyeurism, fingering, slight handjob, boyfriend established but secret, cute cringe couple humour, obvious pining, poor knowledge of pr specialist things, mentions of mental health and stress, mclaren in itself needs a warning, mention of fave menace w*ll b*xton (simply ew), allusion of future marriage

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x mclaren’s pr specialist!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is based of taylor swift’s ‘dress’! okay, so i’m giving you lovelies this one and some others while i study for my last exam 😔 i actually have some requests which are exciting and nerve wrecking but i'm gonna try my level best to do them after my exam. although i’m also supposed be on a plane not too soon after. anyways, thank you so much for your support and patience ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

As a PR specialist, things were constantly changing. For example, for a certain amount of time you were assigned to Fernando Alonso when he was under McLaren. Quite honestly, it was a nightmare.

There was nothing wrong with Fernando. For the time you had spent with him, he was rather sweet. But the media had painted him out as some sort of tyrant of McLaren, claiming that the F1 team belonged to him as opposed to being owned by Zak Brown. Then again, you supposed the Spaniard’s lack of care for listening didn’t help either.

When learning that Fernando was leaving, you could only hope that whoever you were assigned to next was less work than him.

In came Lando Norris, a young driver with ambition and humour, and lucky for you, little work.

Somehow he just knew the right things to say. And if he didn’t, he was always asking you beforehand.

Between the both of you there was only a two year age gap so of course it was easy to befriend each other. You were always talking about something to the other.

His passion for DJing, his childhood or your love for travelling and the gossip of certain celebrities. How you were absolutely certain JLo and Ben Affleck was a PR couple because who on earth had a nude portrait of themselves above their bed?

It wasn’t until almost a year ago where you realised you liked him more than just a friend. There was just something about the way you two communicated that left in trailed sighs, awkward laughs desperate to talk more and grins that got your hearts pacing.

Or perhaps it was the way you had poured your hearts out to one another. As happy as Lando looked, he was one under a lot of pressure which affected is mental health. You were there for all of this ups and downs. You were his number on speed dial for everything.

And when things got a little too much for you, Lando did his best to not only be there for you but to cheer you up. Stupid jokes, random flowers and, teddy bears.

How were you not supposed to like him?

Surprisingly, Lando had been the one to confess his feelings to you. Well, only after one of the engineers from Mercedes was openly trying to court you at an F1 dinner.

Lando had gotten so jealous that he had pulled you aside that evening and begged you to not think of anyone else but him. That you were only supposed to smile like that at him… with him.

At first, you were thrilled and kind of shocked that Lando felt the same way. But that happiness and smile he liked so much quickly faded when you thought about your job.

‘F1’s Lando Norris is dating his PR specialist’…

Yeah… the implications of that sounded terrible. You could imagine it already. What was Lando hiding to date his publicist? Is Lando that good of a person?

And while you and all the people knew the truth, those types of rumours would’ve undermined your job in the first place and honestly, you were sure that McLaren wouldn’t exactly be jumping with excitement that you two were dating.

So you mentioned this to Lando with the suggestion of being secret about your relationship for now.

You could literally see some of the shine in his eyes fade. He was gutted but he understood what you meant. He’d rather be with you secretly than not at all and without his best friend.

our secret moments in a crowded room

they've got no idea about me and you

there is an indentation in the shape of you

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

Your relationship with him had been a roller coaster. Neither of you had been in a secret relationship and neither of you could deny how fun it was.

Take right now for example. Today was the McLaren’s car launch for the 2023 F1 season. The room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people: journalists, publicists, engineers, marketers, social media managers, the new driver next to Lando, Oscar.

Yet with all those people, Lando and you found it impossible to not find each other. You were constantly meeting each others eyes, especially when you were nearby for his interviews.

There was a thrill, you must admit, about no one knowing about the two of you.

A rush of adrenaline at the thought that no one knew nor expected you to be in Lando’s bedroom this very morning before the launch.

“Remember to be sort of vague about the car and, well, everything. I mean obviously but I don’t think Will’s going down without a fight,” you reminded your boyfriend with an annoyed sigh.

Will Buxton was not only a F1 journalist but a man who got under everyone’s skin. You couldn’t fathom why people liked him in the first place.

Lando, who was leaning on his elbow on his bed, gave a hum of response. He only had half of his mind present as he watched you get ready. “Surely, this can’t be fair,’ He asked.

You raised a brow at him through the mirror. “What?” You queried before putting on a necklace. Sorry, attempting to. You weren’t exactly sure why the clasps of necklaces were made so poorly.

Lando got up from the bed and walked up behind you. He grabbed the necklace from your hands with an amused expression before bringing it to your neck. With one hand, he pushed your hair to the side and joined the clasp to the metal ring. He rested his fingers on the back of your neck, slowly rubbing the area as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“I mean, you get to wear this,” Lando started. His hands ran over the satin silk material of your black dress. It was fairly casual, landing mid-thigh. Perfect enough for you to blend into the crowd. Although, it didn’t matter for Lando. He could always pick you from the crowd. Especially, if you were wearing this. “And I wear this? It doesn’t seem fair,” he whispered into your ear.

You let out a small laugh, eyeing his new uniform for the season. You turned to face him, rubbing your hands over his chest and pretending to dust it. “I think you look quite good, love.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. You felt his hand travel up your neck and to your lips. “When did you even buy this? It wasn’t even in your closet?”

Your heart started to pace when you caught that knowing glint in his eyes. His mended brows seemed to ease when you didn’t respond. Sometimes you didn’t need to open your mouth to say anything. Instead, you let your eyes talk.

A small grin came to his face. He turned you to face the mirror. His hands came alive, roaming your thigh and waist. “Just for me, huh?” Lando smiled.

“Lando,” you warned weakly. You had a feeling where this was going. Honestly, you weren’t opposed to it. But the both of you needed to clock in soon. “It’s supposed to come off after the launch.”

Lando pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and meeting your gaze. “Oh, it supposed to come off too? Jesus, I don’t think I can’t wait that long.”

Lando could feel the perfume he has come to love so much infiltrate his nose. God, this dress and now the perfume. How on earth was he going to get out of here?

“Fuck,” He murmured out. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder. He needed to get himself together. But the thing about your skin was that it was so inviting… so warm.

You felt his his arms wrap around your waist as you added some finishing touches to your look. Lando pouted at you through the mirror.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed, squishing his cheeks with your free hand.

“I don’t think I can leave this room. I can’t,” Lando groaned, starting a line of kisses on your neck.

“Lando…” You whimpered out pathetically, feeling your neck stretch out even more willingly. You could feel him close in on the one area near your ear.

“Fuck, Lando. Not there,” You swore but with no effort to stop him.

Lando’s greed seem to increase upon your exclaim. He furthered his attack on the spot, sucking enough of your intoxicating skin, not only to get his full but leave a fresh purple mark.

Now he was satisfied enough to leave the room.

You watched his lips leave your skin, almost leaving you to pour for a second before that dark spot on your skin caught your eyes.

You gasped. “You didn’t,” you said in disbelief, whacking your boyfriend.

Lando’s blues twinkled at you as he planted a cheeky kiss to your cheek. “I did.”

Now you were in a room of all these people. It was exhilarating for Lando to know that he had given you a tattoo of some sorts. To attend those interviews and know that behind your carefully placed hair, he had given you something no one else would ever… yeah, he was aching to leave.

It wasn’t any less for you. Even last night you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were walking around with the fact that you knew what was underneath the damn racing gear. The scratches and indentations of your hands on his skin caused by the will to bring Lando even closer to you.

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

my hands are shaking from holding back from you… ha, ah, ah

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

my hands are shaking from all this… ah, ha, ha, ha

Lando was looking at you probably more than one should look at their PR specialist to the point he was sure you could feel his eyes on you.

But he couldn't help. Every little thing you did in that dress had caught his attention.

Your pinky-red painted lips covering the champagne glass you held. Those lips he wanted for himself. On him. Everywhere. Now.

The occasional brush of your hands that sent shudders he had to surpress.

The lights of the venue practically spotlighting you so everyone could see how beautiful you looked. So Lando could see exactly how nicely the dress clung to everyone of those damning curves.

The polite smiles you offered every single person you met. A gesture that sent his heart racing.

The forced polite laughter and chuckles you gave to the people that flirted with you. A gesture that made him both proud and frustrated. Proud in that you were clearly faking it because he knew what your real smile and laugh was. Hell, he had the pleasure of making it everyday. And that people clearly found you as beautiful as he did. Frustrated because people were clearly into you and he could do nothing but watch in silence.

Lando couldn't blame them either. If he was them, he too would've stopped to impress. But he didn't need to. Not when you were his entirely and he yours.

The more he looked at you the more his hands shook and his patience wore thin. His hands ached for this day to end, for him to take you to his room, and remove that goddamn dress.

He could imagine what his former teammates Carlos and Daniel say. Something along the lines of "stop staring at her like you want to eat her".

Which, in all honestly, wasn't true.

Lando didn't want to eat you. He wanted to devour you. Slowly and gently. He wanted to appreciate you... all of you. So much that only his name was falling from those beautiful lips of yours.

say my name and everything just stops

i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

carve your name into my bedpost

'cause i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

Lando couldn't imagine the poor luck he had. The event was finally over and he was home. Without you.

You had become slightly tied with some last minute discussions with the reporters and journalists, even your dear favourite Will.

Which meant for the past hour, Lando had nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that consisted only of you, that dress, and what he was going to do with you.

What was he supposed to do?

Unbothered to put on a new change of clothes, Lando was in bed only in his boxers which had a very obvious bulge.

Lando let out a sigh, his hand brushing over his clothed cock. "Fuck," he muttered out through a clenched jaw. If it was any other day, he would've lost all self-control and jerked off to his thoughts of you. But you were going to be home soon and he desperately wanted to feel you.

"Lando? Honey, I'm home!" Your voice echoed through his house, teasing him.

Lando whipped his head up, feeling all his thoughts and emotions briefly stop as he darted towards the entrance.

You were taking of your heels when you saw Lando stand in all his glory almost naked. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Oh my... I thought we discussed you not walking around the house naked, Lando."

Lando said nothing. Instead, he took a step towards, eyes searching your face and arms encircling your body closer to him.

The hairs on your body stood straight while goosebumps started to sprawl across your skin. Lando's thumb brushed across your bottom lip. "You were later than expected," He said in a tone that almost neared a whine.

You let out a sigh, kissing the tip of his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."

Lando grinned. "It's okay," He quipped before scooping you up in his arms.

You let out a yelp before smiling as Lando ventured to your bedroom. You could soon feel the soft sheets of your bed touch your skin while Lando hovered over you.

"You have to tell me what the deal with this dress is, love," Lando whispered. His finger slid under the strap of your dress before trailing all the way down to your bare breast.

You opened your mouth to answer but not even a hint of a sound came out as Lando's finger circled your nipple gently. You met his eager blue eyes, waiting for answer.

"I only bought this dress so you can take it off. Simple as that."

Lando let out a low exhale, feeling his cock harden even further. God, were you even real?

"Yeah?" He hummed, pushing the straps of your dress down your arms. He pushed his face down lower, wrapping his lips around your nipple as he continued to pull your dress down your body.

Your back arched on the bed, pushing yourself into his mouth even further. Without a word, you lifted your hips up and Lando had fully taken the dress off.

His other hand reached your other nipple, paying it an equal amount of attention. He rolled the pebbled mound between his thumb and index finger, giving it a slight squeeze.

You let out a small whimper. Your hand navigating through his short curls. You could feel your core tighten and your pussy become slick with your arousal.

Lando unlatched his lips from your breasts, using both hands to gently thumb your nipples. "Tell me want you want, love. I want to hear it from these pretty lips."

God... you couldn't even decide. "I don't know. I want your lips. Your fingers. Fuck, I want it all."

Lando couldn't help but grin as a he felt a surge of energy rush through. "I can do it all," He chuckled before bringing his lips to yours. His tongue darted between your lips and into your mouth. His hands trailed up and down your waist while a muffled moan came out of his mouth.

You kissed him back with the same intensity of fervor, bringing your hands around his neck, willing him closer to you.

Lando could tell by the slight squirm of your legs, you were getting impatient down there. Slowly, he trailed down your waist and reached your panties. His own lips quirked at the damp material. Pressing his fingers into your core, he could feel a shudder overcome you.

Lando continued his assault on your lips as he rubbed you through your panties.

You removed your lips in a gasp for air. "Don't tease, Lando," You moaned out, clenching your thighs so it trapped his hand to your pussy.

Lando chuckled. He used his free hand to brush over your swollen lips. God, he wanted those lips around his cock. Maybe tomorrow morning. Or maybe in the shower tonight. Right now, he wanted to focus on you. "Say please. A good girl should always use her manners, no?"

This good girl thing had always infuriated you. It felt childish. But then it paled in comparison to the tingling and blossoming sensation of Lando's fingers rubbing your clit.

But of course, if you were going to be a good girl, you were always going for extra credit.

"Please, Lando. Fuck. I need your fingers. Please. I love the way they fill me up. The way they feel in me. Please."

Lando wanted to grin. But all he could do was groan in response. How could he not reward his dear overachiever?

His fingers pulled down your panties, snatching down the damp material past your legs. A guttural sound of pure sin fell from his mouth as he saw your pussy. It glistened in front of him, almost as if it was flooded. Sliding his fingers down those soaked folds, he watched you writhe under him and whimper.

Lando kept his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers into you slowly. He could feel your core envelope him and welcome him graciously. He watched your back arch once he began thrusting into a pace, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

"Shit," you moaned, reaching for your breasts to both add even more pleasure and bring some sort of sanity. "Faster, baby. Please."

Lando sped up the pace of his fingers, bringing his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes flickered to your pussy. He licked his lips. You were swollen and engorged. Your puffy lips continuously took him in and it was almost paining his cock that he wasn't inside you yet.

A new intense wave of euphoria settled over you. Your body convulsed with a buzz that provided the almost silent moans from your mouth. "Fuck.... I... I'm gonna come," You moaned out, head falling back as your mind became clouded with pleasure.

Lando's cock throbbed from not being touched. He could do it no longer.

The whine you released when Lando took his fingers out of you almost made him want to put them back in. But instead, with a speed he had never even found in his car, he took off his boxers and hovered over your body.

"I know. I know," Lando murmured, pressing his lips into yours to silence your begging plea.

You placed your own fingers in your mouth, drenching them in your saliva. Removing them, your hand travelled down his waist, brushing past his v-line before circling your hand around his cock. You could feel Lando moan into the kiss, briefly stilling at your touch.

Slowly you rubbed him up and down, dangerously thumbing the slit of his cock. You watched as your saliva lubed him, giving him a unique shine. Your shine.

"Jesus fucking christ," Lando moaned out. He was sure if you kept up like this, he was going to cum in your hands rather than inside you.

"Fuck, as much I love your hands and touch. I need to be in you, baby," Lando sighed, removing your hand from his cock and slowly pressing into your body to slide his cock up and down your pussy.

You moaned at his words, feeling his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

"Stop teasing," You panted. The buzz created by the tip of his cock rubbing your clit was almost paining and torturous.

Lando didn't even mean to tease. But even just feeling your pussy felt like a different type of high. He groaned, pushing the tip of his cock into your swollen lips. A rush of warmth surged through him as he laid in you for a brief moment.

Your pussy was a safe haven. A cocoon made for his cock. This high... this pleasure... he could feel it with no one than you.

You sobbed in ecstasy. Lando was almost bring cruel. You raised your hips, fucking yourself onto your cock.

Lando had to keep himself above you, almost collapsing at your action. He let out a small laugh at your impatience before he started to move in you.

As he thrusted into you, you could feel his cock glide through your folds, reaching those familiar areas of arousal. You clenched your walls around him teasingly, silently urging him to speed.

"Fucking hell," Lando hissed out, speeding up the movement of your hips.

Sweat and arousal doused the both of you as the room was full of your pants and the obscene sound of your skin slapping.

"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," Lando said once you clenched around him once again. This clenching action always drove him overboard. It pulled him in even further into you and pressured his cock to pulse inside of you.

"It's okay. Cum with me," You moaned, bringing him into a sloppy kiss.

Your muffled moans became impossibly higher as Lando rutted into you at a merciless speed. The wave of pleasure and euphoria that had sprawled across the both of you was inexplicable. A transient unearthly state of mind. A paradox of what was holy and unholy.

Your hands had found their way to Lando's back. Your fingernails dug lightly into the smooth skin of his back. You dragged them down as your hips bucked higher in the chase of the climax.

"Fuck! Lando!" You cursed.

Lando could feel his cock twitch and throb inside you. The nails. His name. Your lips. It was any second now. "Fuck. Say my name, Y/N!"

'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless. 'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless.

"Lando!" You moaned, "I love you so much, Lando! Fuck!"

Your loud groans disturbed the quiet peace of the air as Lando and you felt the wave of euphoria hit you hard, his hips stilled within you. His body shook, warming your walls and folds with an influx of white.

Lando let out a soft moan, chin falling into your shoulder while both your sweaty bodies pressed together. You could still feel Lando's cock within you, giving every last dribble of cum to you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you.," Lando's hoarse voiced mantra made it's way into your ear. He planted a lazy kiss onto your shoulder before turning his body to face the ceiling. "Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N."

You turned on the side of your body, leaning on your hand. Your eyes were weighed with exhaustion but nevertheless you smiled at him. "I guess I should buy more dresses often," You joked.

You could feel Lando's body rumble with a gentle chuckle. His hand reached to move your sweat-ridden hair behind your ears. His blue eyes trailed over your face, in awe of how he had gotten this lucky in his life. The woman he loved so much was right next to him and he hoped forever.

Lando smiled at you, bringing your fingers to kiss them. He briefly thought backed to the small box he had managed to hide away in his closet. Three podiums. He was going to get three podiums and make sure that ring adorned your finger.

"Love, I'll buy all the dresses you want. And I'll take them off for you too."

#f1 x reader #mickyschumacher #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1

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themultifanshipper · 3 months ago

Note

hear me out race engineer reader x George? like George gets distracted by reader's voice during FP which reminds him of last night 👀 I think you know where I'm going with this lol

George was going crazy.

The sound of your unintentional dirty talk over the radio was keeping him from concentrating on his session as his focus wavered around each turn of the circuit.

Terrible edited pics courtesy of yours truly

I was gonna use pictures of lando shirtless with a helmet, then I thought to myself "why not put my nonexistant photoshop talents to good use"

Warnings: Race engineer!reader, smut, mention of phone sex, tension, dirty talk, George being frustrated and horny, Cum, lots of cum, complete opposite of a professional workplace environment, and when you thought it couldn't get any worse... helmet kink

“You need to get on top, George”

He swore silently as he almost missed the turn for the fifth time that session. It was only practice but he would rather not crash his car before the first race of the season. But you weren't making it easy for him.

“Fuck, you're getting close”

Yes he was losing time to Lewis, which drove him mad at the best of times. But right now he had other things to worry about, like the fact that you were seemingly unaware that you were basically dirty talking him through a lap.

“It's getting wetter”

'Yeah, the weather' his brain unhelpfully supplied. He was only half way through the last lap but he was slowly feeling like he was loosing his grip on reality. You had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way you couldn’t hear the double-entendres you'd been saying for the past 45 minutes. And yet…

“Your vitals are spiking, you alright?”

‘Yeah no shit’ George thought. He was half hard in his suit at the moment, and with your innocently uttered filthy words it was only getting worse.

He knew it was a bad idea getting involved with his race engineer, but it was too late now.

George was initially nervous when they told him he was getting a new engineer this year, but when he found out it was you he relaxed somewhat.

The two of you had always gotten along very well, ever since you'd joined his side of the garage in the engineering department. So well in fact, that there had been a couple of drunk incidents last year involving alcohol, dark club corners, and wandering hands.

Nothing more than some heavy petting, but still, the attraction was there and you had mutually agreed that you should stay away from each other physically if you were going to keep a working relationship and avoid drama.

But when they offered you the new position, you could hardly refuse. And you hadn't seen each other since the end of last season so any lingering tension was sure to have dissipated, right?

Wrong.

The night before testing began, you sent him a text to wish him luck. Which turned into a conversation. Which turned into a 2 hour-long phone call that ended with an orgasm each and a couple of commemorative photos.

The picture of your bed soaked in your juices, your thighs on display was burned into his brain forever.

And right now he was fucking thinking about it while driving at 300 kilometers per hour.

Not a great mix.

He got p12. Fucking shameful.

Needless to say when he got out of the car he made a beeline for you and dragged you into his driver's room, ignoring your questions about where he was taking you.

He slammed the door behind him and threw his helmet on the massage table.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing to me out there?” he growled as he started unzipping his race suit.

You frowned at him innocently (even though you knew exactly what you were doing) “I don't know what you're talking about, George”

He stalked towards you and trapped you between him and the table, pinning you with his hips, and you could feel through his fireproofs how much you'd affected him.

“Don't give me that bullshit. ‘Does it feel good, George?’ ” he hissed “anyone with half a brain listening in would know you weren't talking about the fucking car”.

You could barely contain the smirk that threatened to show on your face and you eyes twinkled with laughter.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You crossed your arms and stood up straighter, standing your ground against his impressive figure.

He narrowed his eyes and looked you up and down. “I'm going to do exactly what I've wanted to do to you since last year, and when I'm done you're not going to be able to walk out of here without help…”

You shivered and he picked you up swiflty to sit you on the table before crashing his lips to yours, hands going to your arse as he grinded his hips into yours.

This was familiar territory, kissing him was just like you remembered, frantic and desperate as his hands wandered across your body.

You quickly got to work undressing each other and it took less than 20 seconds to get you naked, and you were everything he'd dreamed of.

You panted into his mouth as the cold air made you shiver. His hand knocked against something, and when he looked, it was his helmet that was still perched on the end of the massage table.

He stared at it for a second before fixing his heated gaze on you.

If you went back in time and told yourself that you would be wearing George's race helmet as he ate you out like a man starved, making you shake and writhe on his driver's room massage table, you wouldn't have believed it.

George was relentless, alternating between broad licks and drawing precise patterns on your clit with his tongue, and he brought you to the edge faster than his lap time from earlier.

As soon as he slid a finger into your weeping cunt you were a goner. You came, clamping down on his finger as your hands all but yanked his hair straight off his talented head.

The visor of his helmet had steamed up a bit so you put it up to see George licking his fingers clean.

When your eyes met he choked on his spit. “Fuck, darlin’ you look hot with my helmet on. Maybe I should get you one to keep for… special occasions.” He licked his lips and rose to his feet to take it off you.

He kissed you again and before he could put the helmet down, you grabbed his arm and whined.

“George, put it on… please?” You blushed.

He just raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Does the idea of me fucking you with my helmet on turn you on too?”

You nodded shyly and lay down on the table, wrapping your legs around him, making his cock nudge against you and he hissed.

“What a pair we make” he chuckled and put the helmet on “maybe I should get custom matching ones made then”

The thought made your heart flutter. The idea was so… couple-y. You weren't sure you were ready for that but the thought was quickly replaced as he slid his cock up and down your folds to get it nice and wet.

It was big, bigger than any of your exes, and perfectly curved upwards.

You started thinking maybe you were going to need help walking out of here.

He fucked you hard and deep. Expert strokes pulling you to the edge as his cock brushed perfectly against all the best spots. Not to mention the sight of his naked body looming over you with that helmet on…

You didn't last long, and you pulled him over the edge with you as you came with a shout, thighs trying to close around George's waist at the slight overstimulation.

But George was stronger, he managed to pull out and streaks of cum landed all over your stomach and puffy lips as he growled out "all fucking mine"

His fingers came and collected some of it, rubbing it along your folds before plunging them inside the wet heat. You gasped and and writhed, his long fingers immediately going for your g-spot.

He pulled out his fingers and collected some more of his cum, whike his other hand went to grab your jaw.

"Want a taste? Open up, sweetheart"

He didn't even finish his sentence before your mouth was open and your tongue was out.

The mix of your taste and his combined made your eyes roll back and you moaned around his fingers. You were out of it.

You were wrecking him.

He pulled the helmet off and you moaned at the sight of him. His hair was soaked and plastered to his forehead, pupils wide, and his lips were raw like he'd been biting at them.

What a fucking sight. And you weren't much better off.

As you stared at each other like that, something between you changed.

You realised that day, George Russell was fucking gone for you. And you matched his freak perfectly.

He got a fine for being late to his post practise duties, but who cared about a fine? He was going to be spending much, much more on the kinky matching helmets.

#my thots #george thots #george russell #gr63 #george russell smut #george russell x reader #f1 #formula 1

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doctor-dusk · 3 months ago

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

well, your second time on omegle definitely wasn't that bad.

warnings: male masturbation, nipple playing, exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 2.4k

part. 1

well, everyone was hyped for part 2 and consequently me too lol, hope you enjoy it :3

your week passed slowly. torturously slowly. all you could think about when your mind was empty was him. you replayed the scene in your head like a movie. your favorite movie, actually.

‘’you've been having your head in the clouds lately,’’ your mother would say when you were caught too distracted. all you could do was smile and agree with her. you really were too distracted to think about anything other than alex.

in the nights that followed, you found yourself sighing between your sheets, vividly remembering every detail, every moan, every eager stroke, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. you found yourself asking too much if your parents were going out again on this friday, needing to contain your excitement as much as possible when your mother confirmed that they were going to a company party where your father worked.

‘’don't forget to take the trash out.’’ your mother told you for the second time as she walked to the door, your father was already waiting for her inside the car.

‘’yeah, don't worry. will you be back long?’’ you asked, but you weren't genuinely worried about whether they would be late, but rather how much time you would have alone.

‘’i don't know. i'll text you, but if it gets too late, don't forget to lock the doors and windows.’’ she said, giving you a brief kiss on the cheek, leaving the mark of her red lipstick like a soft tattoo on your skin.

‘’alright. bye, have fun!’’ you said waving excitedly at them, watching the car leave the garage, the anticipation running through you from the inside out, you just wanted to see the car disappearing from your field of vision so you could finally run to your room.

you left the door ajar, running to the kitchen just to take out the trash, and when you finally found yourself free, you ran back to your room.

your laptop was already on above your bed, the lights on the same way you had left them last friday. you looked at yourself in the mirror on your vanity, seeing if you looked presentable enough for him. you had even put on some mascara, it was almost pathetic to think that you weren't even hoping to want anyone to see your face.

but as you always told yourself, he was different.

you typed the website so quickly that you even got some letters wrong, but the search engine was equipped enough to already have the website saved in the search bar, since you had visited it once.

and of course, you covered your face again. you were no longer interested in talking to strangers and learning about their crazy addictions. now, you just wanted him.

you had been there for almost 40 minutes, jumping from conversation to conversation, hoping to find him, like in a cliché where you accidentally bump into your love interest and end up knocking your books to the floor. but here, as time passed, the uncertainty became greater than your hope.

did he lie? did something happen, did something unexpected prevent him from showing up tonight? did you go to the site too early? too late?

the questions ran like a carousel in your head as you watched the different people in different scenarios pass by like photographs on your laptop screen. you swallowed hard, thinking about giving up. maybe he can show up next friday. or maybe you should stay a little longer. just a little longer...

you stopped skipping conversations as the familiarity of the scene hit you. was it finally him?

you could only see from his chin down to part of his waist. this time, he was facing forward. last time he was sitting on his side. the angle was different, certainly.

but oh, it could be him, it had to be him. you knew you had seen that fist clenched around that cock before.

you were silent for a while, clearing your throat before speaking.

‘’alex?’’ you asked, bringing your face a little closer to the screen. his hand stopped, and just like you, he also came closer to the screen, and now you could see his face.

‘’there you are.’’ he smiled warmly. ‘’i was waiting for you.’’

‘’and i was looking for you.’’ you answered, pulling the blanket off your face since you no longer needed to hide. ‘’i thought you wouldn't be here tonight.’’

‘’told you i’m here every friday. it's like going to church on sunday.’’ he joked, relaxing a little more in his chair, his toned muscles flexing a little as he found a comfortable position. ‘’is the angle okay for you? i can change it if you want.’’ he asked, adjusting the height of the camera a little.

‘’yeah, that's fine. as long as i can see you.’’ you suggested, seeing a little smirk sprouting on his lips.

‘’oh, i see. you seem to have been really looking forward to seeing me again, huh?’’ he deduced, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, his right hand resuming his slow and subtle ministrations. as always, you could only see the tip smeared with precum, but it was enough to make your body a little warmer.

‘’i'd be lying if i said no.’’ you bit your lip. something about him made you feel bolder, you didn't know exactly what.

‘’mhmm, that's what i thought. do you want to tell me how your week was? you know i like to hear your voice.’’ he suggested, starting a conversation so you could say something, his breathing was calm, as were the movements of his hand. you could tell that he liked to build the mood of the moment before intensifying it.

you summarized your week as much as possible, sparing some details because you weren't that interested in talking about your week when he was slowly masturbating in front of you, surprisingly attentive to what you were saying, humming in agreement without interrupting you. as much as talking about something mundane while he did this was unusual, you enjoyed it.

‘’it seemed like a pretty tiring week. i'm glad you're here, by the way. i was also looking forward to talking to you again.’’ he admitted, making you raise your eyebrows.

‘’you were?’’ you almost giggled, but you couldn't help it.

‘’oh, you know i was.’’ he said in a purr. ‘’i kind of like seeing you look at me like that. you're an excellent spectator.’’

you felt a knot in your stomach, like butterflies circling inside you like a whirlwind.

‘’can i see more?’’ you asked anxiously. he tilted his head, looking at you.

‘’wanna see more, baby?” he chuckled, his head falling back against the back of the chair as he pretended to think, his thumb ghosting on the tip, spreading the wetness around it in a lazy motion. ‘’let me see... do i get something in return?”

you thought for a moment. it was fair. whether you liked it or not, the only thing you showed him was your face. and deep down, you wanted to be seen by him, little by little.

‘’what do you want to see?’’ you asked, settling yourself in your bed.

‘’anything you want to show me.’’ he replied, his tongue ran over his lower lip, wetting it a little with saliva. ‘’but it's okay if you don't want to show me, i just thought it would make things more interesting.’’

you chuckled. as always respectful. well, he certainly deserves this.

you sat on the bed for a moment, out of his field of vision. you took off your shirt, keeping your black bra. you made the right choice, it accentuated the curve of your breasts, giving the impression that they were bigger. plus, there's a cute bow in the middle.

you lay back down on the bed, your almost bare torso on full display for him, his eyes going a little wider as a lewd smile appeared on his lips.

‘’boobs. i like it.’’ he said and you chuckled, he looked like a child in a candy store, like he wanted to grab you through the screen if he could, his grip on his cock getting stronger without him even controlling it.

‘’yeah? wanna see more?’’ you giggled, playing with the right strap of your bra, stretching it as much as you could to loosen it, the elastic hit your skin and it stung a bit, but it was worth it to see how his eyes darkened at the sight of you.

‘’hell, yes. show me your tits, babe. they must be as beautiful as your face.’’ he instigated you, shifting in his chair, his hard cock was more exposed to you now, the tip was almost red, the excitement was already starting to take over him.

you giggled, your hand ran up to your back, unclasping the bra with one swift motion, you were so used to it that it was no surprise when the straps became looser and you could let the piece slide down your arms, and your chest was finally bare for him to see.

‘’gorgeous.’’ he praised you, his eyes watching you like a prey, his hand almost twisting around his cock, pumping up and down. “play with them, can you do that for me, love?”

you nodded, moving your hand up, tracing a path from your belly to your torso, feeling the bones of your ribcage as you ran your fingers tortuously over your skin, getting close to your left breast, supporting the weight of your body on your right elbow, laying on your side.

your palm landed on your left breast, the contact made your skin shiver, your nipple automatically stiffened, perking up as you squeezed it softly, as if you were kneading bread dough.

you watched his every reaction, his mouth agape, his breathing starting to get ragged as the strands of hair started to fall down on his forehead because now his hand was moving eagerly, stroking his cock faster, fucking his fist like a desperate.

you moaned softly when your thumb and your index finger trapped your nipple, squeezing and twisting it, the sensitivity was practically at its peak, your panties were so wet that it was almost uncomfortable. you wanted to touch yourself, but you weren't ready to show him that, not yet.

“fuck, you're so pretty.” he panted, his voice was stained as he watched you giving slight slaps on your breast, making it bounce a bit. “i wish i could cum on those tits, cover you with me.”

the mere thought already made you delirious, your two hands gripping your breasts tightly, your skin flushed right where your fingers pressed, like a blank canvas being painted red.

“yeah, just like that, baby. so fucking beautiful, playing with your tits for me, you like that?” he asked you, pausing for a moment to spit on his own cock, the saliva sliding down the tip, down the rest of the length, and soon he moved his hand again, spreading it and making it slide easier.

you nodded, your lip was trapped between your teeth, but soon you opened your mouth, adhering to his idea, bringing your fingers to your mouth, your tongue running along your digits to make them wet enough so you could spread saliva across your nipples, the wet feeling made everything better not only for you, but for him as well.

he panted desperately, nearing his climax and you wanted to keep your eyes very wide to see him, your boobs almost sticking to the screen of your laptop, as if you wanted to rub it in his face.

“god, i'm gonna-” he said, his sentence being replaced by a broken moan as he came, the jets of cum shooting out of his slit as he spasmed slightly, his hips jerking against his closed fist around the base. “oh, fucking hell…” he trembled, his body completely spent on his chair, just like the last time.

“are you okay?” you chuckled, moving back a little to get back to your starting position, supporting your body on your elbow.

“yeah, yeah, just… fuck, give me a minute.” he gestured with his hand, he was clearly still recovering, his body was experiencing slight spasms as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

you gave him time to recover, he blinked a few times, taking a few deep breaths before settling back in his chair and looking back at the screen, widening his eyes a little.

“shit, can you believe it splashed a little on the screen? it even looks like it's on your face, how i wish.” he joked, cleaning the screen of his laptop with a clean tissue, looking for more places where there might be more residue.

“i do believe.” you chuckled, watching him grab a small bottle of water from behind his laptop to take a few sips. you couldn't explain how wonderful it was to see him like that.

“tell you what, girl... you wrecked me and i haven't even fucked you. how do you do that?" he laughed, like he didn't even believe it. it inflated your ego.

“i don't know. guess i'm just charming." you said modestly and he chuckled. you adjusted yourself in bed, the material of your panties was sticking to your pussy, your wetness was too sticky and slimy at this point.

“what?” he asked curiously.

“nothing, i’m just… too wet.” you answered, watching his smile grow.

“yeah? can i see it?” he asked eagerly, shifting in his chair and getting closer to the screen.

“nah.” you teased, watching him pout.

“oh, c'mon, you can't just throw this at me like that. now i won't be able to sleep.” he spoke in a dramatic tone and you laughed. “you're a bad woman.”

“maybe next time?” you suggested. oh, of course you wanted a next time. and another, and another.

“ugh, such a bad woman. i don't think i’ll be able to wait until next friday.” he said, his playful dramatic tone still on, making you laugh again. it was true that he wanted to see every bit of you, but you were willing to make him wait. maybe beg for it.

he took his cell phone from the desk, unlocking it after entering the password, looking at the screen again.

“can i have your number? i definitely want a next time.” he asked politely.

“a private session, you say?" you raised your eyebrows, seeing him smile. you both knew very well where this was going. and you couldn't deny that you loved it.

“a private session, baby.”

#doctor says #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

Totally not writing about Tuesday on a Thursday

Masterpost wc: 674 cw: attempted mugging

“Look, dude, I have seven dollars and fourteen cents in my wallet. I know that because I had to buy lunch on campus today and I have no idea how I’m going to make seven dollars and fourteen cents last the rest of the week,” a voice said from the alley that Jason was approaching.

A voice that was becoming very familiar over meals and passing each other on the stairs.

“What’s in the fucking bag?” a different voice croaked. “Hand it over.”

“My notes from class and binders of engineering diagrams. It’s worth even less than seven fourteen. I don’t even have a working pen in there, dude, the last one exploded in my hands this afternoon. Do you see how blue my hands are? That is not natural. I hope you know that that is not natural.”

Was Danny really being mugged and talking back to the mugger? This guy was a disaster. Jason moved quietly as he approached where the alley started.

“You’re a fucking liar, hand it over!”

“Okay,” Danny said with forced calm. “Just taking the bag off…”

There was was a heavy ‘fwack’ followed by an ‘omph’ of pain and the distinctive sound of a body hitting the ground. Jason gave up being stealthy and sprinted around the corner. Hopefully the mugger hadn’t gone for anything vital. His place was stocked with first aid, they were close by, he could—

Danny’s head shot up from where he was standing, bag dangling from his hand, over the prone body of the mugger. He smiled sheepishly. “Jason, hi!”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, Tuesday! Are you okay?” Jason asked. He nudged the mugger hard with his foot. He only got a groan in response.

“Oh, yeah. I mean I’m still broke and tired, but what else is a college student?” Danny said breezily a he shouldered his bag again. He ran a hand through his long bangs, pushing them back. “But I’m fine— he didn’t even nick me with his knife!”

“You still shouldn’t argue with a mugger like that, it’s a good way to get stabbed,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hands and checking that he hadn’t actually been slashed. Jason wouldn’t put it past Danny to hide injuries, “and you don’t want to be stabbed.”

“Yeah, it really sucks. It took me weeks to heal last time I was, I kept ripping my stitches open,” Danny said breezily.

Jason had to close his eyes and take a breath. How was this guy alive? He grabbed the knife the mugger was using, folding it up and tucking it away, before he rooted through the man’s pocket.

“Um, Jay? What are you doing?”

“Looking for his— there!” Jason pulled out the rubber banded roll of cash and tossed it at Danny who almost most fumbled the catch. It was sorta precious how he looked down at it, eyes all wide in shock.

“Call it emotional distress compensation. No way you’ll find who else he robbed and he sure doesn’t deserve it.”

Danny cocked his head, several emotions running across his face before he shrugged and shoved the cash into his bag. “Guess I get to still eat this week!”

“Tuesday,” Jason said. He reached out and tilted Danny’s head up by the chin so that their eyes met. “If you ever don’t have enough to eat, you come to me, alright?”

“I don’t want to—”

“Tuesday,” Jason said more firmly. “I like cooking. I always make extras for left overs. I won’t have anyone in the building starving— I know what that’s like. If you don’t have enough to eat or the energy to cook or anything else, you come to me. There’s always food at my place. Now be a good boy and say you understand.”

Danny blushed and nodded, his head rocking in Jason’s large hand. “I understand."

“Good boy,” Jason said with a smirk. He let his thumb brush over Danny’s cheek before he dropped his hand. “Now come on, I don’t trust you get back home in one piece.”

-----

AN: Jason continues to despair over Danny's self preservation. Danny continues to blue screen over Jason. It's been so fun to get to explore the Jason/Danny dynamic as opposed to the Red Hood/Danny! It's turning out nothing like I expected LOL For how willing Hood is to be put on his knees by a feral Danny, Jason sure enjoys taking control of this soft nerd. Idk, I'm just going with it!

Due to being shadow banned (still, ugh), I'm no longer tagging people! To be notified please go to this post and subscribe!

#dp x dc #dead on main #the fic that i'm not writing

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void-wolfie · 2 years ago

Text

Seventy-Two

summary: a little arguing and some bad memories push you into a panic attack, good thing Tara's there to help you through it.

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader

words: 1.3k

tw: some angst, some fluff... mentions of abuse, (very brief) mentions of drugs/alcohol, descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks

a/n: apparently I'm back on my angst train lol. I'm not a professional so apologies if this isn't completely accurate. Briefly based this on my own experiences and some light research.

*if anything here may be a trigger for you, please don't read

You set your motorcycle helmet in your locker, grabbing out the few textbooks you'd need for the day and slamming the locker door shut.

"Where've you been?"

You jumped a little, not having expected the shorter girl to be on the other side of the locker door.

"Hi, Tara. Good morning to you too. Oh, I'm fine thanks for asking," You snarked, disregarding the girl and heading towards your first class.

She sighed, you two played this little game too often. Out in public, it was sideways glances and off-the-cuff remarks. She only ever got to see the real you when you were alone.

Right now, there were eyes everywhere; students and teachers alike all crowding the halls, trying to get to classes. She wouldn't get anything out of you here.

She grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into an empty classroom, making sure to shut the door behind you.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're tenacious." You smirked, looking around the empty classroom in boredom. Turning back around, you noticed the less-than-enthused look on her face.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're annoying."

"Actually you, every time we talk,"

You didn't take the jab to heart; she was just worried and stressed.

"Where've you been?" she asked again, her calm demeanor slipping away.

"Awe, do you actually care for me, princess?"

She huffed, rubbing her eyes with her fingers, something she often did when annoyed. Her patience was running thin, and classes hadn't even started yet.

"I've been trying to text you. Wes told me your dad had to bail you out for drug charges, then you go M.I.A. for two weeks and come back looking like you had the shit beat out of you."

"Yeah, well what else did Wes tell ya?"

You didn't exactly like Wes. He wasn't terrible but his nose was always stuck in someone else's business, which irritated the living hell out of you.

That, plus the fact you couldn't help but be jealous over their relationship. You know you shouldn't be, after all, they're just friends. But nothing ticked you off quite like Wes following Tara around like a lost puppy dog for everyone to see, while your relationship with the girl only existed behind closed doors.

"He told me your dad looked mad, like seriously pissed off." She took a few steps closer, getting into your personal space, not that you minded. You flinched slightly as her hands cupped your face, her thumb lightly tracing your black eye. "Did he do this to you, your dad?"

Despite the voice in your head screaming to finally admit it, to tell the whole world about the shit he puts you through, you just couldn't do it. You shook your head no, quickly wiping at the tears that threatened to fall.

You pulled yourself away from her, stepping further into the classroom to try and get some space.

"Then who did?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Have you looked in a mirror, you look like shit. Of course, it matters."

"Just leave it alone, Tara."

She wouldn't understand, you barely even did yourself. You just couldn't turn him in.

The man may be an abusive asshole and borderline alcoholic, but he's still your dad. For every terrible memory, there was a good one.

Sure, he'd beaten you to a pulp, hit you countless times before, and who even knows how much therapy you'd need one day. But he'd also bought you your first motorcycle, taught you how to do oil changes and engine repairs, he helped you prepare for softball tournaments and school projects.

It was all just so conflicting.

"y/n?"

You were so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed the tightness in your chest or the way your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, almost drawing blood. You were lost in your memories trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

You were completely overwhelmed. Your entire world was crumbling down around you. It felt like you were drowning with no end in sight.

You yanked your backpack off, then your jacket, gripping the desk in front of you as you tried to figure out how to breathe again.

"y/n?"

She'd never seen you like this before. You were always so strong, so guarded. And yet here you were, looking the most vulnerable she'd ever seen you.

"I- I can’t-" you stumbled over your words, not sure how to form anything coherent with the dizziness in your head and tightness in your chest.

You sat down on the floor, leaning your back against the teacher’s desk as the world spun in front of you.

Tara recognized that look, she'd seen it in Sam countless times before. You were having a panic attack.

"Shit."

She dropped her bag, getting down on the ground next to you, careful not to crowd you in case it only made it worse.

"Hey, you’re good at math, right?"

You looked at her a bit puzzled but nodded nonetheless. What the fuck does math have to do with anything right now?

"Ok, what's six plus four?"

"T-Ten." You wheezed out an answer, still focusing on trying to get your breathing under control.

"Good, now what's nine times three?"

She could tell you were still overwhelmed, not really focused on her at the moment. Your eyes seemed dazed as they darted around the room.

"Hey," She grabbed your hand gently, interlacing your fingers, "focus on me, ok?"

That seemed to work, grabbing your attention, "What's nine times three?"

"...Twenty-seven,"

She was doing her best to stay calm, even if the sight of you hurting was killing her inside. But she'd done this before, she knew what she was doing... well, mostly.

The research she'd done over the years rang out in her head. Stay calm, get them to slow their breathing. Make your own breathing relaxed, keep it slow and even-paced, and theirs will follow suit... Get them to focus on something else for the time being... If things get worse, call for help...

"Good, and what about seven times eight?"

"...Fifty-six,"

"Five times eleven?"

"Fifty-five,"

Now she had your attention. You didn't notice but your breathing had started slowing down and your fists weren't clenched as tight. You were starting to relax a bit.

"Ok, what about forty-five divided by three?"

"Fifteen."

"And sixty divided by five?"

"Twelve,"

"Good," you were finally calm again, mostly anyways, "want me to keep going?"

You were exhausted, you felt a little better, not great, but better. Your head didn't feel like it was going to explode anymore, and your heart wasn't beating out of your chest.

You shook your head no, not wanting to do any more math. You patted the spot next to you, which Tara happily filled, glad to see you weren't hyperventilating anymore.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on her shoulder.

"So, am I officially smarter than a fifth grader?"

She rolled her eyes, not that you could see that, too busy cuddling into her side, "not a chance,"

"Your just jealous I'm better at my times tables than you are,"

She didn't have to look down at you to know you were smirking. But she did anyway, finding it adorable with the way your eyes were still closed and you were leaning into her.

It was almost comical, she thought, looking down at you. The big scary drug dealer with a fuck-around-and-find-out attitude and a deadly glare cuddling into the popular girl who has the personality (and height) of a teddy bear. If anyone else at school saw this, they probably would've thought they were hallucinating.

She scoffed, "that's so not true."

"What's nine times eight?"

There was a moment of silence, in which you couldn't help but smile a little brighter.

"I hate you."

"Seventy-two."

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #jenna ortega #void-wolfie

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sweetie-peaches · 8 months ago

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Constantly thinking of soulfire, they where everything to me, the way the base felt so cozy and warm after all the disasters was so :[

And I do wonder what would have happened if tubbo didn't keep as tight a hold on bad, if he let his honor slip even a bit, but I think that's the beauty of his character. He never let his honor go.

Despite the death, despite the others wanting to destroy it all, tubbo was always there for moral and to keep the others honorable (well most of the time-)

Bad was the ruthlessness they needed, Tina was the engine keeping it running, and tubbo made sure they kept up their spirits despite it all...

Wish it hadn't ended on a kinda anticlimactic one v one tho like...the whole point was team events...why a one v one...

Anon kissing you on the lips rn

I was talking about this on twitter. But I think that the soulfire base was such an aid to them psychologically. Because it forced them into proximity with each other, and was a shelter from the chaos outside. It was a support. I could write essaysssss

Anyway, tubbo’s honor is such a fascinating topic. Especially his morality, he wants things to be fair, for it to be a good fight in the end. I’ve been rewatching Alta recently but the fire nation’s idea of honor fits tubbos ideals as well, though he has the morality of airbenders. In most cases tubbo would want a fair fight that he knows he has a high chance of losing then a fight where he betrays his own moral code to win.

At his core I think tubbo is a diplomat, but if fighting is necessary he wants it to be fair. But that doesn’t mean he won’t do what it takes to end up victorious

And he tries his best to hold to these morals, and holds his team to them as well, for better then worse in some cases.(Aside from the obvious moments)

bad balanced out tubbo’s honor perfectly with his ruthlessness. And throughout purgatory they were such opposites that worked so well. Tubbo sat back and was careful, bad was reckless.

And bad was loud Bolas was so afraid him because he didn’t care for the blood on his hands. He attacked quickly and fast. It let tubbo hide behind him, make himself seem like someone who was just holding the leash. But remove bad and tubbo was just as much as a threat.

And then Tina played support amazingly. First off the tea strat which was just. Wow. Secondly, even if she wasn’t best at pvp she still but in so much work at ‘home’ that made her so so vital to the team. She also provided vital morale support that soulfire would be nothing without.

And I know this ask didn’t talk about him but I think Pierre’s mindset was interesting as well during purgatory. How he was sort of a loose canon.

He was a big leg up in the game because of his experience with games like purgatory before. But as seen with the ggn elimination day is quick to turn on his team when his ideals start to turn from his own.

I’ve talked about how soulfire became a whole unit before but I have to repeat again. They were a unit. Tubbo was held with such respect by his teammates and in turn they held respect for him as a leader, or “coach”

And then purgatory 2 was so different and it’s just so cool

(As for the ending,,, yeah. I won’t say anything on that but. Just. Yeah. I think there was a lot of things went into that that it’s just a whole god damn mess lol)

#peaches posts #purgatory was flawed but god I love it #qsmp qosts #qsmp #qsmp tubbo #qsmpblr #tubbo #qsmp purgatory #qsmp blue team #qsmp pierre #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tina

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rowiewritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Ahem, yes it is I! So an idea literally bashed me in the face and I couldn't help but think 'Oh this is an interesting idea!' What if different versions Transformers have this crossover (Bayverse, T.F.P., T.F.A., GEN 1, Knightverse which is one of my favourites because of Charlie and Bumblebee or any other universes you're familiar with it) where T.F.P.'s groundbridge malfunctioned (probably Wheeljack and Bulkhead) The reader works in the T.F.P. universe Ratchet's assistant and they're his guardian on top of that. Of course, instead of sending them to a desired location the groundbridge ended up locating them in a different dimension... it was Bayverse's while the other dimensions were already there and T.F.P. just lands there last. Just complete and utter silence until Miko says something. You can tell how shit went downhill from there, but let's pretend no one dies for the sake of it all. My dearest reader and T.F.P. O.P. are dating but also not dating; they're just orbiting one another while being friends and T.F.P.'s O.P. is just content and not necessarily talkative but just sweet with the reader. Always carrying them around and so on. Of course, the other universes notice that. Jazz from Gen 1 is just smirking in that damn corner and all versions of Prowl wondering why is their lives are like this. It doesn't help that T.F.P.'s Ratchet has been tired of seeing these two idiots being in love and not doing shit about it. Obviously, the other O.P. versions caught on and the reactions... varied. Surprise, to utter.. confusion and curiosity to completely just wondering if there is a reader on their Earth. You can always add in anything you wish; I really love bantering amongst the others too! AND IRONHIDE'S REACTIONS TOO-

Multiverse to Bayverse (Transformers Multiverse/ TMV)

Will probably edit it later for typos lol

(Bayverse, Animated, Prime, Earthspark, Gen 1)

Various! Optimus Primes X Reader

Ratchet noticed something was wrong with the groundbridge when it started growing a weird yellowish color. Before anyone could say anything, a wave covered all of them in golden light.

June, who walked in with popcorn, looked around the room in question. “Uh, guys?”

You all landed on the harsh ground, and heard a voice. Before you could hit the ground, Optimus caught you in his servos.

We all looked up to see a large group of around twenty Cybertronians. There was complete silence in the room as everyone looked at eachother, when Miko chimes in. “Uh, why are there like five Optimus Primes? Raise of hands if you’re secretly another Optimus.”

Everyone gave her a deadpan look when you realized quickly that you were not in your Optimus’ servos. You looked up to see an almost cartoonish looking bot, smiling sheepishly down at you.

“Uh, hi. I’m Optimus Prime, nice to meet you.”

You squinted at him, and looked around the room. “Okay so I assume that this has to do with the groundbridge explosion- or I’m in a weird dream.”

The four Optimus Primes that were new to you looked at you in confusion. “Groundbridge?” Two chime in.

“Uh… yeah. A scaled down version of the space bridge. Ratchet engineered it to transport everyone anywhere on Earth- we couldn’t have anything as high-scale as a space bridge because we lack the energon for it.”

“Well why don’t you just use oil?” A voice sounds.

You all look over to a green bot. “Bulkhead?” Arcee asked.

“Uh, yeah- how do you know my name?”

Your Bulkhead made his way forward to inspect the other one. At the same time both Bulkheads showed their wrecking ball hand. “Woah! Twins!” Both of them said at the same time.

“Bulk, please never do that again,” Miko looked at them in joking fear. “You remind me of the twins from that one horror movie.”

“Aww come on Miko! It’s not everyday you meet, well, yourself!” Bulkhead grumbled.

“Can we focus on the situation, please?” A gray mech asked. They looked strikingly like Megatron. The next second, almost everyone in the room had their guns trained on him.

He quickly backed up with his hands above his heads. One Optimus stood in front of him, hands up. “Woah, this Megatron is an autobot now! He’s alright.”

Everyone squinted or glared at him. Generation One’s Optimus didn’t back down. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know for certain that I’m not cool with Megatron being here.”

You turned to him, gaping. “Did you just say ‘cool’? What?”

Jazz laughed aloud. “Yeah, that’s Op for ya! He just started learning Earth slang from Spike!”

“Alright, enough!” All of the Ratchets shouted at once. Everyone looked at them. A good eighty percent of the room burst into giggles or tried their best to stop that urge.

“Looks like no matter what dimension you go to, Ratchet’s always the same.” Wheeljack said. A chorus of varied agreements sounded through the room, making the renowned grouches grumble.

Soon enough, you all began figuring out how you were all there. It was pretty much the same for everyone- one way or another, a yellow light ran over them.

You all started constructing various groundbridges in hopes that it could somehow send you home.

You often hung out with your Prime, making everyone else curious about your relationship. You could almost always be seen on his shoulder or in his servo. You almost never walked anywhere.

It was pretty obvious to everyone- except a few of the younger bots like animated Bumblebee and Knightverse Bumblebee.

Bayverse Prime (with his never ending confidence) was the first to approach you. “Hello, (Y/N). Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He held his hand out. You stepped onto his hand and sat down.

As he made his way out of base, everyone watched you two. Primeverse Optimus couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest as you both walked out. He knew that he didn’t have a right to feel that way- you two weren’t even together. Not yet, at least.

Everyone noticed the look on his face even though he himself didn’t.

All of the Ratchets had the same thought: ‘Primes (Derogatory)’.

Optimus from the Animated universe was confused. He was normally pretty in tune with his emotions, and he doesn’t see why Prime Optimus doesn’t just ask you out. He’d been trying to subtly hint at that, but Prime Optimus was somehow oblivious. Animated Optimus also wondered if you existed in his universe- you were very charming and, he’s embarrassed to say, cute.

G1 Optimus teased your Optimus on the subject. He always mentioned how back in his day he was a spark breaker. Earthspark Optimus always tried to scold G1 Optimus for his behaviors, but then G1 Jazz would join in on the teasing so he’d have to chase both of them around.

Earthspark Optimus would comfort him, trying to encourage him gently to follow his spark. While he’ll never understand the attraction to a human, he believes that it’s not really his business. Even Earthspark Megatron gave fairly good advice to the other bot.

Bayverse Ironhide sort of agreed with their advice- but also warned the Prime. “If you wait too long, they’ll find another. Make something of yourself, Prime!”

You both stopped at a pond and he sat down on the ground. He placed you gently next to him as he threw seeds into the water. You both watched as fish swam to the surface and bobbed up and down to try and snag a treat.

“Are you and my counterpart… together?”

A flushed look covered your face as you snapped your head towards him. “Wh-n- I-” You covered your face with your hands. “No, we aren’t together.”

“Ah. I see.” Bayverse Optimus had a lot more experience with this sort of thing. “So you have feelings for him, then?”

Your face got impossibly warmer and simply nodded. “We haven’t been dating so to say… but we’re really close. I would just never have the guts to… you know.”

Bayverse Optimus merely nodded at you and left you at the pond by yourself. When he got back into the base he and Ironhide grabbed the Prime by his arms and began dragging him off. The other Primes and Ratchets knew exactly what was going on and followed.

When they got into a more secluded room of the base, they set him down and pushed him into a chair. Primeverse Optimus was confused and a little anxious as the many bots surrounded him.

“When are you going to ask them out?” G1 Optimus teased.

Primverse merely shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea at the moment. There’s a war go-”

“Oh stop being a fragging boltbrain!” Bayverse Ratchet yelled.

“They have been waiting for you to ask them out for months now!” Primeverse Ratchet yelled.

His eyes widened at that knowledge. “I don’t know.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll go ask the lil’ lady on a date then.” Jazz began to strut out of the room when Optimus shouted for him to stop.

“What should I say?” Primeverse Optimus questioned.

“Alright, so here’s what you say.”

While you were at the pond, a gathering of girls and femme bots surrounded you.

“So he still hasn’t asked you out yet?!” The Arcees were shocked.

“Yeah, you’d think he would have by now, right?” Their counterpart from Primeverse shook her head. “I think he’s just worried about the war.”

Miko threw her hands over her head. “So?! He needs to get the girl!”

Your hands were holding your face yet again. Prowl gently laid a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). Good things come in time- and some bots,” he glared at everyone else, “Shouldn’t rush it.”

You smiled up at the ninjabot. “Thanks, Prowl.”

He smiled back, though irritated at the situation. Some bots were so nosy and loud. They always had to get into everything and couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Suddenly you were swept up by Jazz, who yelled out “Sorry, I’m borrowing the lil’ lady!” Prowl facepalmed as the girls cheered.

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level.

“I” He paused to get his words together. “I have had feelings for you for a while. I know that we’ve been friends for a while, and just friends. I have no clue if you share the sa-”

“If you’re asking me out, the answer is yes.” You planted a shy kiss on his faceplate. The Prime’s cheeks grew a flushed blue. Suddenly confetti streamers fell on the two of you. You both looked up to see Miko, Animated Bee, and Sari in the rafters. A bucket fell on Optimus’ head which made the rafter bound group wince.

“Uh.. congrats?” Bumblebee quickly grabbed the other two kids and bolted.

You and Optimus chuckled as he brought you up to his faceplate for another kiss.

ALTERNATIVE ENDING:

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level. “I-” he paused to get his words together. “Well, my name is Optimus Prime, yo! The other primes are my friends, yo! Uh-huh, they told me everything.”

You looked up at Optimus in confusion, about to say something when he continued.

“And I like you a lot, yo!”

Outside the door, everyone looked at Jazz with glares. He just shrugged as a grin pulled at his face. "What? I’m sure it will work.”

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rxttenbxnes · 6 months ago

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Hello! Do you have any fun headcanons to share about Idia? Honestly, I just find it painful to see how badly this guy gets butchered in headcanons sometimes. People always forget that he is in fact a complete ass with a massive superiority-inferiority complex and not just a sad boi, or they overplay the weeb part and ignore how he has other interests like science and art, or they make him too pathetic by assuming he would still be a blushing incoherent mess like a year into marriage, etc. Anyway, it’d just be nice to hear the headcanons of an actual Idia fan since that’s the only way to get anything sane.

Omg totally, first I'mma do a little rant, I'll make sure to label where the HCS begin so y'all don't have to read my rants 😭

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

❱❱﹒⟡﹒𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑡﹢﹒🎮

Okay we gotta acknowledge the fact idia is indeed, an asshole you guys. 💀Well not completely obviously but he's not just gonna be nice to you for no reason. He's not just some depressed dude needing sympathy.

The way Idia is so Infantilzed by the fandom it's actually gets me tweakin, You guys this actually makes me mad, he's not some sensitive bottom uwu boy that stutters 50 times every sentence In fact I honestly cannot see him being submissive half of the time, this man is actually a asshole on the low. Most people get the fact that idia would be submissive from his shy and closed off personality which is just SO wrong to me.

Idia is extremely pessimistic and if we're being real Idia is actually not a good narrator for his own experiences, the constant self deprecation mixed in with his his thoughts about being superior to others is so fascinating to me, one moment he sees himself as nothing but a piece of trash while in the next moment he's boasting about how he's the only one component enough to be ignihyde's dorm leader. He's such a complex character I can Yap about him constantly

I get making jokes and stuff but some people genuinely think idia is some stinky incel creep that hates women and just purposely chooses to not go outside and be chronically online. Like yeah, he has nerdy and loser like hobbies but this man literally has trauma and chronic depression, along with an anxiety disorder, it's not something he can just make disappear. He likes science, engineering, art, anime, games etc which is all just cool, it's not like he's some creep that's afraid to talk to people, nor is he some super submissive guy that'll fold for you in a tiny interaction.

Had to get ts off my chest 💀

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

܀⊹ ིྀ𝐼𝑑𝑖𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

🎧 Caramelldansen. Idia adores this song unironically. At first he had just saw the meme and quickly ended up falling into the whole thing, laying on the floor completely dazed out of his mind as the colorful lights flash in the background from the music video playing on repeat lol

🎮 I said this in my earlier post but Idia definitely draws his crushes all the time. Luckily he has a little self control and draws anime/manga characters in most of the pages, he's really protective over his sketch book due to 1.) His social anxiety and 2.) The fact that he doesn't want anyone to know that he likes drawing and observing people, especially his crushes.

🎧 Idia constantly has his headphones on, I know of a fact that Idia listens to Nightcore, anime OSTs, Vocaloid, animation meme music, Vkei, video game sound tracks and breakcore religiously. I think idia would honestly listen to everything he can get his hands on

🎮 I feel like he had a 2020 alt kid phase lol. I feel like quarantine would've been his time to thrive, his peak enjoyment of life would be set during this time lol. Being able to express himself like he wanted without others seeing??? Sign him up

🎧 Ironically, he's not super weak. I feel like he just sucks at physical activity, especially running since he doesn't leave his room much. His hands/fist are definitely strong, I feel like he has a strong hit.

🎮 That being said, I think Idia’s hands are large, thin and boney. They definitely have a few scars and calluses from all the machinery he works with, you can't tell me that his hands aren't pretty rough.

🎧 Idia is a fashion icon, in games. Not irl, he would never due to the attention it would grab him, though he definitely is into all of the alternative and Gothic fashion stuff. He'll give his characters the most perfect and pretty outfits and make sure everything is customized perfectly, not mind at all if it takes him hours to do so.

🎮 This man definitely collects figures. I feel like they're all anime and video game figures; he's even commission artist and such to make custom work of his favorite interest and brag online about it.

🎧 Has an habit of repeating words and phrases he likes over and over again. It doesn't matter if it's from an obscure meme that literally only 5 people including him know or if it's in a different language, he'll constantly reference and repeat it like no tomorrow.

🎮 He's a biter. He bites a lot of things randomly, he'd bite someone out of love if he got the chance. I'm telling you he'll just naw on random stuff, not caring if it's edible or not. It could literally be a plushy and he'll randomly bite it while he's hugging it.

🎧 Idia definitely finds confort in the rain and gloom weather. Really, he just enjoys typically gloomy things. It's extremely comforting and relaxing to him to just be able to sit on his bed with his headphones on while it rains harshly outside, making the world around him dark and gloomy.

🎮 Curses, like a lot. Gamer rage is real you guys and he definitely has it. If he loses a game too many times or gets too frustrated with his teammates, he'll curse like a sailor. His anger isn't directly to his teammates or anything, it's of him being frustrated with everything in general.

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #idia shroud #idia #idia headcanons #rxttenbxnes rambles #twst headcanons #twst hcs #twisted wonderland idia #idia hcs #idia shroud headcanons #headcanons #hcs

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hwaslayer · 1 year ago

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | four.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, chaery being bold per usual lol (but shes a cutie and we love her), oc and yunho get to know each other more, mentions of sickness/being ill (not oc or yunho), yunho's mom is a single mom, hwa gets a little 😕 but oc knows how to put her foot down, say hello to mingi!!, mingi brings something up and it kinda rubs yunho the wrong way but boy has patience

"We're getting lunch with Jongho and them. Coming?" You shake your head as you walk alongside Soobin, with Seungmin and Chaery trailing behind.

"Nope, no can do." You say. "I'm taking Yunho to lunch to repay him for the ni—" Seungmin looks at you and you pause. Right. Soobin and Chaery don't know Seonghwa left you stranded. "Foooor his help with my reviews." You backtrack a bit, hoping the two didn't catch on.

"Oh, that's sweet of you." Chaery says. "You definitely should! We won't be home 'till later either, soo.. " She giggles and you shake your head at her forwardness.

"So.. what, Chaery?" You glare at her.

"Yeah, what is wrong with you?" Seungmin laughs a bit. "You'll scare him away."

"I will not! I'm just saying, the option is there." She puckers her lips and wiggles her brows.

"Anyway, I'm just going to grab lunch with him at the cute, new brunch place downtown. Let me know if you want anything?" You stop in your tracks, realizing you've walked farther than you should've. Yunho mentioned he was going to be at the Engineering Center, which is in the opposite direction.

"Sounds good." Soobin gives you a small, pursed smile; dimples dotting his cheeks as he sends an animated wave. "See you? Have fun, be safe!"

"Thanks." You wave to your friends as you watch them walk off without. You turn on your heel to walk back towards the building that Yunho just ended class in, picking up your pace when you realize you're running a little late compared to the time you promised to meet him. As you close in on the building, you catch sight of the tall boy and his fluffy black hair.

"Yunho!" Yunho whips his head around to see you walking towards him. He smiles a bit and stops, waiting for you to catch up. "Hey! I was just about to text you. You still free to grab brunch with me, right?"

"Yeah, I was waiting." He teases, making you chuckle.

"I know, I'm too slow. Sorry." You joke back. "Let's go." You look up at him and he nods.

"How was class?"

"Mm, same old. What about you?"

"It was okay. Another small project I gotta work on."

"Sounds fun." You gently nudge him with your elbow. "Computer Science right?" He nods.

"Public Health?"

"Wow, a point for Jeong Yunho." He laughs.

"Y/N, it's not an entirely huge school. You know a lot of people, and people know you."

"For the wrong reasons, most likely."

"No. Just for being you." He says with a soft smile on his face.

"Are you always this smooth talking to girls?" He laughs and shakes his head.

"Quite the opposite actually. It's just.. easy to talk to you, I guess." He looks down at his feet timidly.

"I'm glad." You chuckle. "So, I'm thinking of taking you to Cafe 24. Does that sound okay?"

"The new brunch place?" He smiles, and it adds a rosy tint to his cheeks. "Cool. I've heard good things about it already."

"Yeah?" You ask in an animated, questioning tone. "Nice. I'm excited."

"Your friends didn't wanna come?" You finally get to your car and toss your bag in the trunk, signaling for Yunho to put his things down as well.

"Hell no. Or else, they'll order everything expecting me to pay." You sigh. "So, nope! This is just for you, especially as my small token of appreciation." Yunho doesn't say anything besides let out a small laugh before hopping into your car and settling in. "By the way, I drive as safely as possible, so please don't make fun of me."

"I won't." Yunho watches as you adjust your seat closer to the wheel. Once you feel content, you start the car and double check your mirrors before pulling out of the spot and driving off.

Luckily, the drive isn't far or else Yunho wasn't sure what he'd do. It's not that he was uncomfortable around you, but he's not used to keeping the small talk alive— let alone engaging and being the first to break the silence.

You seem to understand him well though, because besides the few questions you ask him about the week, you don't push the conversation.

And it's nice.

He listens to the music you have on, hearing you softly hum in the driver's seat as you carefully navigate the narrow downtown roads and find a spot near the café.

"Sweeeet." He hears you giggle as you pull into a parking spot that just opened up. "We're here!"

"There's not too many people?" Yunho says in a questioning tone as he unbuckles his seatbelt and peeks at the front door. It's busy, but not enough for a wait. You check your phone and take note of the fact that it's still earlier than noon— you and Yunho barely missing the lunch rush.

"Still early, I guess." You greet one of the staff members and she immediately brings you and Yunho to a table in the back corner. She lays out the menu in front of you, giving you a moment to glaze over the options while she heads to the back to grab water. "Everything looks so good." Yunho chuckles.

"Anything you've been craving for?"

"Something sweet?" Your eyes widen at the sight of 'matcha mochi waffles' on the menu, pondering whether or not you should give in to your sweet tooth or get something a little more filling on the savory side. "But now, I'm torn. I kinda wanna taste the omurice."

"You can have some of mine?" Yunho was eyeing the omurice anyway, and he doesn't mind sharing some with you.

"Really?" Your eyes sparkle and it makes Yunho's ears turn red. He's feeling shy now because yes, really. Yes, you're cute.

"Yeah, I don't mind." You smile.

"Hm, okay. You can have some of my mochi waffle and bacon?" He shakes his head.

"It's alright, Y/N. It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. It's a new brunch place and who knows when we'll be back. You should taste it." He doesn't respond, just simply smiles back at your argument. At this point, the waitress is back with two waters and asks if you two would like anything to drink. Yunho declines, but you happily order a vanilla latte. She asks if you're ready to order, eyes darting to Yunho for some kind of acknowledgement— which he gives to you in the form of a simple nod. She takes down your orders and lets you know that she'll be back with your latte, taking your menus before she's off to the kitchen. "So." Yunho looks at you after he's been people-watching through the window.

"Hm?" He hums.

"Tell me about yourself, Yunho." You say softly. Typically, Yunho hates these kinda things. He'll usually respond very vaguely to cut it off at a certain point. He just doesn't think people need to know much about him, nor does he really find himself interesting. But for now, he'll dive in a little more. He doesn't seem to find the harm in it when it comes to you.

"I don't even know where to start?" He laughs a bit. "I'm not sure what you want to know."

"Anything." The waitress brings your latte and you immediately start blowing at it to cool it down. "Tell me anything."

"I'm an only child?" He starts off with an unsure tone, but you nod in response to reassure him. "Home is two hours away at my aunt's house."

"Sweet. If you don't mind me asking.. have you always lived with your aunt?"

"Yeah, I have. She's my mom's sister, and my mom is sick." Your eyes soften. "She has kidney issues so she's on dialysis. She's still strong and all, but it's nice that my aunt is there. She helps take care of her and bring her to appointments, especially while I'm away most of the time." You nod quietly.

"What about your dad?" He shrugs.

"Uh, he left when I was young, so I don't really know much about him."

"Shoot. I'm so sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean to—"

"Nah, it's okay. I don't mind talking about it, but I also can't give better responses since I don't know much myself."

"You must be very close to your mom." Yunho thinks about his mom for a second, taking mental note that he needs to call her later. She has always been so strong, and she's always been Yunho's driving force. Even though he didn't have his dad around, he never felt like he lacked love or support because he mom did a fantastic job covering all of those bases no matter what.

She never let Yunho down. And he only hopes he can do the same in return.

"I am."

"I can only imagine how tough it is."

"Yeah." He lets out a breath. "But, she's doing well. She's been well for a long time. All I can ask for." You give him a tiny toothless smile.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"W-what about you?" He clears is throat to try and brush off the slight nervousness he feels asking these questions. Surely, you asked about him. But, you wouldn't mind sharing your own facts, right?

"I have an older sister who works in finance. She's 4 years older than me. My parents split up, but my dad still comes around to hang out. They're better this way, I think. Their relationship is much healthier." You also start thinking about your parents, reminiscing about the tough times when they used to fight for days on end. Luckily, you and your sister were close— you could lean onto her like you do with your bestfriends. She tried to protect you and keep you safe as much as possible, tried to shield you from the negativity even though it was hard to. Eventually, your parents had enough and split; though, you'd like to think this was their silver lining since they're much better around each other now.

"I see." Yunho sips his water. "It's nice he's still around."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. "Do you have a lot of friends back home?"

"I wouldn't say lots. A few people that I grew up with still live around my area, but most people have moved."

"That's cool to still see some childhood friends, though." It's your turn to sip. "How do you know Mingi so well?"

"We went to the same high school. We have some common interests, but that's it? We just hang out with different crowds." Yunho shrugs. "Mingi finds certain people and certain things fun that I don't necessarily find fun. He's a big social butterfly."

"Yeah, I see that." You chuckle.

"You and your friends seem really close. Did you meet here?"

"We did." You smile. "Chaery and I were roommates and Soobin and Seungmin lived across the hall from us."

"Did you meet Chaery before you two moved in?"

"Nope. Just that day." You laugh. "Believe it or not. We clicked really well and got close easily. I got lucky with her." At this point, the waitress comes with your plate and tells Yunho she'll be back with his as they're just finishing up in the kitchen. "Then we met Soobin and Seungmin. And they slowly started coming into our room more often. Turned into going to the cafeteria together, to hanging out and studying in our room together."

"That's good. It's always nice to have solid, good friends around."

"Yeah." You look at him. He notices that you aren't eating your food, and he feels bad that you are waiting for him. So, he clears his throat again and mutters out a quick—

"Oh, you don't have to wait for me." He looks at you, then down at your food.

"No, it's okay Yunho. I'll wait." You nod. "Speaking of roommates, are you close to Yeosang?"

"Uh, we're cool, I guess?" He shyly laughs. "We randomly got paired up because we're in the same major." The waitress sets his plate down and he pauses for a brief moment to thank her and asks for an extra plate. When she leaves, he returns his attention back to you. "Anyway. One day, he asked if I knew anyone who needed a roommate. At the time, I was renting a room in this couple's home. I didn't mind it, and they were super friendly. But, I figured having more space would be nice instead of being confined to a room and feeling shy about going into the shared kitchen and bathroom." You laugh.

"I get that, totally understandable." Yunho is splitting some of his omurice [a bit more than you expected] and placing it neatly on the extra plate before scooting it your way. "Wait. Yunho, that's a lot." You look at him worriedly and he shakes his head, continuing to edge the plate towards you.

"No, it's not." You look at him and he gives you a small smile. "Promise."

"Thank you." You say, cutting him a good chunk of your waffle and placing it on the edge of his plate. "I know you said you and Yeosang are cool so.. do you hang out often at home?"

"We'll talk and have dinner sometimes, but most of the time, we're in our rooms playing games." You giggle and Yunho's ears turn red. "Wow, I probably sounded ridiculous saying that."

"No, no. Soobin and Seungmin have a tendency to do that too. As long as it makes you happy and content, right?"

"Mmyeah."

"How often do you go home?"

"Hm, I try to go every other weekend? But, sometimes plans don't work out that way. I just try to go as soon as I can."

"I see." You continue to hold a conversation in between bites, with topics ranging from school, your majors, things your friends have gotten into.

Dancing.

Yunho observes you as you talk about your dance team and how much you enjoy it, and he loves the way your eyes twinkle; the way you animatedly move your hands while describing the team and its accomplishments, the way you giggle in between. He can tell you really enjoy it, and he's truly happy you have something to fall onto when times get rough, something to help celebrate when you're having good days.

He just can't understand how Seonghwa fits in this mix. He doesn't, he shouldn't. You are too good for him, and you have way more to offer.

"So.. yeah, that's us. We're small, but we're fun. And I think people on campus enjoy our pieces." Yunho laughs a bit before finishing up his food. He feels bad since he's never really gone out of his way to watch any of your performances, but maybe he should.

"Let me know when your next one is?"

"You'll come?" You ask with so much hope in your eyes. Yeah, maybe he should this time.

"Yeah, if I don't have anything planned."

"Oh, so we're the backup plan." You tease and Yunho shakes his head.

"No, not like that. You know what I mean. If I'm around and not at home."

"Of course." You tilt your head and smile at him. "I'll text you details later." You set aside your plate and sit back in your seat, feeling stuffed but content with your meal. You call for the waitress to bring over the check, instantly handing off your card in fear of Yunho trying to swoop in. "Oof, I'm full. But, that was so good. I really liked it."

"It was." Yunho sets his own plate aside and sips on some water. "Thanks again, you really didn't have to."

"I did. Small token of appreciation for the help you've been giving me. I've always struggled with these things so having someone patiently explain and walk me through improvements means a lot." You say before getting up and grabbing your things. "Ready?" Yunho nods before following you out. "Are you going to work in the library until class?"

"Probably."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Yunho looks down at you with a small smile.

"Not at all."

You make the trek back to school comfortably, parking in the lot near the library so that you and Yunho won't have to do too heavy of a walk. The both of you are engaging in more small talk, with Yunho feeling a bit more comfortable to joke around with you. He doesn't dare bring up Seonghwa because he knows it isn't his business, but also because he'd hate to see your mood shift.

You look good happy.

Getting back to the library, you scoot yourself into the opposite side of the booth and face Yunho. He immediately pulls out his laptop to do some work, not really saying much as his focus is redirected on trying to understand the new project they were just assigned. He glances over the edge of his laptop from time to time though, and you don't really catch it because you're too immersed in the note-taking you're doing. You write so precisely, so neatly; switching from one colored pen to the next before highlighting in a super straight line. His eyes glance up to your face, your features, before shifting his attention back down to his assignments.

Cutie.

"What's up, Yunho?" Yunho is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears that familiar deep voice. Seonghwa smirks at him before his eyes land on you. You don't look too happy to see him right now, but Yunho knows Seonghwa still has the upper hand here, and honestly, it sucks. "Hey Y/N, can I talk to you?"

"Why?"

"Cause, it's important." He licks his lips when his smile fades. "Please?" Your eyes dart from Yunho, back to Seonghwa. Yunho just quietly glances at you though, trying his best to mind his own business and let you decide on your own. But he's begging, pleading, in his mind that you don't leave with Seonghwa. Not after he left you in the cold the way he did.

Too bad it was a wishful thought.

"Fine." You huff before packing up your things and start to slide out of the booth. "Talk to you later? Thanks for today." You give Yunho a soft, apologetic smile, and he can only nod in acknowledgment before you're walking off next to that asshole. He continues to watch as you two walk down and into a random aisle of books. You can't help but scoff at Seonghwa again when you realize he's hiding because of course he doesn't want too many people in his business and to see you two so close. Of course he needs to do this in the fucking history aisle of the library. "This is your idea of talking?" All he does is chuckle a bit before he's tucking a piece of your hair behind the ear.

"Baby, seriously? Why are you hanging around Yunho so much?"

"Because we're friends?" He snorts.

"Since when? I don't ever recall Yunho being in your little circle."

"Oh my god, Seonghwa. He's been helping me with some assignments. What is this really about?" He shrugs.

"Nothing, I already told you. I'm not trying to share, not with him." You furrow your brows.

"Share?" You scoff. Clearly, you were just a possession to him. "We aren't dating. You made that very loud and clear from the beginning."

"Still. The dude can't even pull his own girl—"

"Stop." You put your hand out and shake your head. "If you're just gonna talk shit, let me get back to doing homework with Yunho. I don't have time for it." He sighs heavily and tries to pull you into him by the elbows.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just got worried because you didn't answer my text last night."

"Worried over me, or because you weren't getting any?"

"Come on, Y/N. Cut that shit out."

"No, you cut that shit out. It was freezing last night. I fucking waited for you at the spot for an hour."

"And I said I was sorry. I wanted to make it up to you last night but you didn't respond. I feel really bad about it, but what am I supposed to do when you won't even talk to me?"

"Seriously?" You let out a sigh. "Whatever you say." He sucks his teeth and lifts your chin with his finger.

"Baby, I'm trying here. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be doing this." You simply stare at him. You know he's lying, and you know he genuinely doesn't care about you. There is not one honest bone in his body that actually gives a damn about you. He's telling you what you wanna hear because he knows it'll work every—single—time.

"I don't know—"

"I'll wait for you until you're done with practice tonight, how about that? You can just shower at my place so we can hang out all night."

"That's the issue, you're never there after practice."

"I will be. I promise." He pouts a bit. "I'll be there waiting for you." He laces your hand with his and kisses the surface. "Walk with me to class?" You look at him, but all you can think about is leaving Yunho. You let out a sigh knowing all you want to do is avoid conflict, shrugging at his question.

"Fine."

"That's my girl." He leads the way out of the aisle, giving Yunho the pettiest nod you've ever seen. You try to avoid eye contact since you felt bad for leaving.

But, fuck. You just needed to get through the day in one peace.

He swings an arm around you for a second before he sees his friends on the way to class. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek just as he reaches his classroom, leaving you to finish up work at the nearby student center.

The day goes on [peacefully], and you're off to dance practice with your friends. You forget about everything for a moment while you're with them, enjoying the time that you get to spend all together even if it's through dance. They invite you to hang out with the group afterwards, but you politely decline especially when you actually see Seonghwa waiting outside in his car. You give your friends big hugs before waving goodbye, and settle yourself into Seonghwa's car.

He talks about his day for a bit, even as you walk into his apartment and see San eating his dinner. He doesn't really ask about yours, nor does he care enough to. He does ask if you've eaten and if you want some food, but you shake your head and tell him you'll be off to shower and finish your homework in his room. Throughout your shower, you can hear him and San laughing loudly in the dining area before they're going at each other's necks while playing FIFA.

You feel like you're just.. there.

You silently sit against the wall as you type away on your laptop, sighing as Seonghwa and San continue to yell over their last game. You find that you aren't really in the mood to be here, but you hang on to see what Seonghwa's version of 'making it up to you' means.

Should've known it wasn't shit.

Especially when he barges into his room and shuts the door, immediately kissing you before trailing a few soft kisses down your neck. He thinks you're enjoying it, so he keeps peppering your neck even as you gently try to pry him off.

"Hwa." You call his name and he ignores it, fingers slightly fiddling with the waistband of his sweats that you're wearing. "Seonghwa, stop." You say, pushing him back. "Stop." You repeat with a harder push when he almost dips his hand into your sweats.

"W-what? What's wrong?" He furrows his brows when he backs up to read your expression, your body language. Suddenly, you feel out of place, feeling like you wanna go home and be in your own peace.

You did not wanna be here. Not with him.

"I'm just.. not in the mood. Can you take me home?"

"Not in the mood?" He repeats. "What, should I have gone slower? Did I do something—"

"Seonghwa, please just take me home. I'm not asking twice." You say and he lets out a scoff as he hops off the bed and grabs his keys.

"Alright, whatever." He says, digging his hands into his pockets while walking out of his room. You change into the extra clothes you brought in your duffle bag, setting his clothes neatly into his laundry hamper. You quietly trail behind him as you tug on your bag and watch your feet drag you to his car. You hop in and Seonghwa doesn't say a word, instantly starting up the car and driving off. You can tell he's upset by the way his jaw is clenched, the way his hand tightly wraps around the wheel.

The way he drives.

A rather quick drive becomes even quicker, and you're glad you don't live far from his apartment. This entire ride feels suffocating and you can't wait to leave entirely. He pulls into your lot and brakes near the curb, giving you time to step out of his car. He doesn't give you another look, nor does he say anything— you simply slam the door shut and he races off, leaving before paying you any mind.

Perfect.

This wasn't anything new, but tonight feels awful. You start to feel guilty for whatever happened, though you shouldn't.

You shouldn't feel guilty.

You let out a shaky sigh as you step into your apartment, your roommates not being home since they're out with the dance group. You set your things aside and quickly take a shower before plopping onto your bed and doing.. nothing.

You want to do nothing.

You scroll through your phone as you try your hardest not to let any tears fall. They shouldn't, you did nothing wrong. But everything feels wrong, suffocating.

You hate feeling this way.

Yunho is getting ready to wrap up his work for the day when he sees a body slide into the booth he's currently occupying.

"Sup dude." Mingi says.

"Yo." Yunho responds. "What are you still doing here?" He asks, unfamiliar with Mingi's presence during these evening hours in the library.

"I had to work on a group project." Yunho continues to draft out some notes for his project while Mingi sits back and lets out a breath. "Another project?"

"Yup. How'd your group project go?"

"Eh. It's alright, but we're done. Just need to present." Mingi scrolls through his phone. "I saw you with Y/N earlier." Yunho pauses to briefly look at him before returning his attention back to his notebook. "I didn't know you two knew each other." He chuckles.

"We have literature class together, and I was helping her with some reviews."

"You seem close, though? Have you always been close?" Yunho shrugs at two things— one, he definitely can't say you two are close, and two, how nosy Mingi is being. It must be for Seonghwa.

"Not really. She's cool, though."

"Hm." Mingi hums before putting his phone down on the table. "Yeah, she is. I don't know what Hwa's deal is sometimes."

"Mm, but you would never mention it to him." Yunho teases with a small chuckle, but he means it. He absolutely means it.

"I just feel like it isn't my place to. Me and San have both told him to chill, but can't force someone to act a certain way if they don't want to." Yunho shrugs.

Fine, he thinks. But, Mingi could at least tell the guy when he's wrong and what he's done wrong, right? He would at least hope that's part of their conversations, and he knows Mingi is aware of right vs. wrong.

No better way than letting someone know the truth.

Seonghwa is wrong damn near more than half of the time.

"Yeah, I guess." Is all Yunho responds with.

"He does like her, though." Yunho looks at him with tightly-knit brows. What does he mean Seonghwa likes you? That's his way of showing his feelings for you? And it must be obvious that Yunho is feeling a certain way about that statement because Mingi instantly backs it up with a— "I mean like, I know he has some kind of feelings for her. He does more for her than I've seen him do for anyone else. I just don't know why he's stringing her along and not being more serious."

"Like.. what? Leave her in the cold until he's ready to pick her up? Really shows his feelings." Yunho sarcastically responds. "Anyway, sure. It's not really my business."

"Are you sure?"

"What?"

"You seem interested in her."

"Because we hung out?" Yunho shrugs. "Okay, Mingi."

"I only bring it up because he's mentioned it. Hwa can get pretty protective and jealous. I don't want him to start shit with you—"

"He doesn't need to." Yunho responds. "Not really on me anyway, I'm not the one in the wrong."

"Right, I guess."

"I know he's your friend, but she deserves way better. You can tell me all of this, and it still won't change my mind." Yunho chimes in one last time, completely over the conversation. "If she isn't happy, he shouldn't be selfish enough to continue trapping her." He finishes up his notes before closing his notebook and packing up.

"You're right." Is all Mingi replies with while watching Yunho pack up. Because what can he say? Of course, he agrees. But he has this weird obligation, this loyalty, to Seonghwa because of their friendship.

"I'm gonna head out." Yunho slides to the end of the booth before throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Gonna stay behind?"

"Nah, I'll come with. Wasn't planning on staying any longer." Yunho nods, allowing Mingi to walk alongside of him. He's a little annoyed, but in a weird and unconventional way, he knows Mingi didn't mean any harm. He knows he didn't mean to intentionally attack him.

Still, though. His point about Park Seonghwa stands.

Yunho continues his walk to the car with Mingi, the topic of discussion now being new game releases and a party that's coming up soon at one of the athlete's homes. Mingi extends the invite to Yunho, but Yunho shakes his head and tells him he doesn't think he'd end up going. He might change his mind if he feels better about it when the time gets closer, but as of now— it feels like a hard no.

Once Yunho and Mingi finally part ways, Yunho climbs into his car and begins his silent drive home. He starts pondering about his day and how he actually really enjoyed it. He feels comfortable enough to be himself around you, and he can't say that for many people.

You are enticing to him.

When he gets home, everything feels still— quiet. The night sky is dotted with stars, while the crickets chirp.

"Mom." He says, parking his car off to the curb and grabbing his things.

"Yunho, baby." She says a bit lowly. "How are you? How was your day?"

"I'm alright, just hanging in there. Had lunch with a friend before working on a few projects." He begins to walk to his apartment. "How are you feeling?"

"Good! Your aunt and I went out for a walk, then shopped for a few things today." Yunho chuckles.

"Cute. Weather's been nice. Glad you guys have been getting out."

"Yeah, enough about that though. A friend, hm?" She chuckles.

"Yeah." Yunho smiles. "We have the same class together. I've been helping her with some of the assignments."

"So, it's a her." Yunho can hear his aunt giggling in the background, making him roll his eyes.

"Uh huh—" Before he can start lecturing his mom and aunt about how you two are merely friends, classmates, another call comes through on the line. He stops in his tracks and quickly removes the phone from his ear to see who's calling. "Mom, can I call you back in a second? I just got home."

"Okay, get settled. I love you!" She says in a sing-song manner and Yunho laughs a bit.

"Love you too." He responds before ending that call and switching to the next. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

You chuckle on the other line before responding with a shaky: "Why wouldn't things be, Yunho?"

"I don't know. Just wasn't expecting your call, is all."

"I'm sorry, are you busy? I'm so dumb, I really shouldn't have—"

"It's okay, Y/N. Seriously. I just got home from the library." He steps inside his apartment finding that Yeosang is in his beloved cave, yelling at his computer screen per usual. He walks into his room and places his things down, settling onto his computer chair with a soft sigh.

"Okay." You haven't said much and it's obvious to Yunho that something is indeed wrong. You needed someone and you turned to Yunho for comfort.

God, he sucks at this. But, he wants to be there for you.

"What's going on?"

"Huh? Nothing. I just wanted to check on you." He chuckles.

"I don't get very far, Y/N. Don't worry." Silence. "What's bothering you?"

"How do you know something's bothering me?"

"I can practically hear you thinking from here." You giggle and it warms Yunho's heart. At least his effort is somewhat working.

"I.. was at Seonghwa's not too long ago. And I just didn't wanna be there. I asked him to take me home and he was upset. I don't know why I feel bad about it."

"Feel bad? What is there to feel bad about?"

"Maybe I should've asked him in a better way, I don't know. I felt suffocated and demanded rather than politely telling him."

"Y/N, you don't owe him anything. You don't need to explain anything to him. He doesn't need to be upset about you going home because that's your own choice. He's mad because he didn't get his way for once. Still not your problem." You let out a shaky sigh and a tear manages to slide down your cheek. This was so dumb, you shouldn't have called Yunho to vent about this.

"This must sound so dumb, I'm sorry Yunho—"

"It's not dumb. Don't be sorry." Silence, again. "I hope you know that if things don't get better, you were never in the wrong. You don't need him."

"I know." Yunho doesn't say much because he doesn't wanna attack you or make you feel worse. So, he sits there. Listening to you breathe.

Listening to you sigh, be upset.

"Yunho?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind earlier."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize."

"Mind if I join you at the library again tomorrow?" He softly smiles to himself and nods as if you can see him.

"You're always welcome to join me."

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk [bold = can’t tag 🥺]

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

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yea.... 😭😭😭

now my logical followup is rewatching rogue one for the first time since seeing it (multiple times) in theaters i believe? Will i cry a lot, which i am always prone to do w/media & things but all the more so lately, it seems

#several times & getting a bit extra weepy for the end as the obvious zone for that lol. no guarantee but like yep ummm Arrrrghhhh #also paying attention to jyn the protagonist b/c like. i was never here as a Star Wars Enjoyer but those who were seemed to have those like #mixed/tepid reactions. v limited / inconclusive & i think Overall it was fairly well received but i mean i neither Know nor really Care lol #Eye liked it & probably would've liked it even more if there was Less star wars in there lmfao. but it's a bold december major release #and i know it's like immediate [original star wars movie] prequel. and star wars. so i can't begrudge it much lol but eh could pare it down #anyways & w/andor i could truly forget entire major star wars elements so that's a win. while still being obviously like Scifi World.#i'm also not saying ''finally. a series for strwrs haters lmfao'' either. it's great & like Technically star wars. echo tells me the #showrunner ''doesn't care about star wars'' (positive) like Ah that does explain things / come through. there's just no like; distinct #drive to like tie it in to other materials one way or another & that serves it well; i have no desire to frame it within my love for strwrs #seeing as i don't have that. but Anyways i do remember there were always specific complaints abt jyn the rogue one protagonist? i think #maybe i recall someone saying her motivation was confusing or smthing and beyond that i'm just not certain abt what wasn't working for ppl #b/c rewatching it i'm like. i mean i never expect to Love a protag or anything but i do also like her lol. and wuh oh the difference in #perspective? Might be an [im autistic; for one] thing lol. like i can only guess at and try to reverse engineer other Interpretations; as #always; especially like ''how would an allistic person view things? i really often learn i have no goddamn idea'' but like. idk maybe i #am missing what i'm missing but i feel like her motivation is established Enough? changes her mind abt things b/c of her dad? the one thing #she can care about besides implicit scrapping around in survival mode prior to these events? but again maybe im missing what im missing lol #but the other part of it is just like. maybe she comes off as awkward lmfao. like she's Sort Of Withholding but not in a cool steely way;#especially past the beginning when she's probably not Trying to be closed off; but is just somewhat naturally that way as a person by now #but now also her earnest / Relatively open mode is also not like; bold and Strong in an intense way or i suppose charismatic; b/c she's #again just got the natural wariness going on / isn't going to be like that? and maybe that blend comes off as ''worst of both worlds'' to #people but for me i'm like yeah that's regular; understandable; familiar; even fun like sure yep. but Because that's my reaction it's like #well maybe for a central character that Is confusing or offputting to people b/c. well you know. just like real life?#and otherwise ppl talking about ''well how could we be invested in these characters enough'' like i also dunno what to tell you lol #maybe that's a Hurdle if you're here b/c you love star wars. since these are all basically OCs in this Standalone Movie i suppose #and/or maybe it's like; they didn't have the interactions people expect or interpret as [get invested] stuff? didn't share a ton with the #audience through backstory? but again i'm like....that works great for me lol? we get their personalities; everyone bonding over like Okay #here we go operating together / parallel on the same mission; comrade. even if ppl aren't having warm conversations. like ofc i Get That.#when ppl are like Ayyy at the pilots they ofc can't communicate with. that's still a social moment. they're still besties b/c of this.#anyways ofc no universal objective interpretations/experiences; there's just also ones that might tend to apparently need explaining vs the #ones that tend to apparently go without saying. also this film v correct for Comrades(tm) deuteragonists. forgot the elevator shot & 😭😭😭

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hannyoontify · 1 year ago

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seventeen '96 line and their love languages

warnings | brief mentions of food

notes | based on pure speculation and my guesses by reading their “vibes”. i have a feeling it might be a little diff since the way that they treat their members is probably gonna be different from the way they would treat their s/o. listed from greatest to least (imo) and feel free to drop an ask abt ur opinions i would love to have a discourse abt sebongs’ diff love languages lol 95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

junhui : acts of service, physical touch (special mention: words of affirmation)

i struggled a bit with junhui bc he’s.. wen junhui. but i narrowed it down to acts of service bc he loves doing things for the members, cooking hotpot for others during in the soop and specifically not adding peanuts bc he knows vernon’s allergic and him wanting to know and experience the diff things the members liked doing during in the soop. i also saw a short compilation where he placed a hand on the wall whenever a member was spinning just in case they hit their head. js super small things 🥹 i saw a clip of junhui (idk the context of the video) but he was on a skywalk with others and he was jumping but he noticed that a co-star was afraid of heights so he immediately stopped and went over to make sure that they were okay and js my sweet sweet baby 🥹 he always puts others before himself and i think regardless of his love language that’s js the kind of person he is OH LIKE HOW PRE DEBUT JUN MADE BREAKFAST FOR MEMBERS BEFORE GOING TO SCHOOL AS HIS WAY OF SHOWING THAT HE CARES FOR THEM BC OF THE LANGUAGE BARRIER MY BABYYYY but yeah like if you wear glasses and you fall asleep with them on, he’ll silently take them off and put them down at your bedside table so they wouldn’t break or smudge bc he knows js how much you hate it when your glasses get smudged. totally the type to notice the smallest details about you and your preferences and act on it

junhui just… likes to cuddle what else can i say i think he’s also one of those members who always has his chin tucked on another member’s shoulder. i don’t think he’s the type to initiate physical touch, but if the other person initiates, he’s more than happy to cuddle or have an arm around them. with a romantic partner, i think junhui would be the type to appreciate the smaller, unspoken touches between him and his partner. light hand squeezes under the dinner table, his arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively as he introduces you to his friends and coworkers, light touches on your lower back/waist when he’s passing by you, interlocking pinkies in crowded areas. he can get fidgety if you guys cuddle in the same position for a prolonged period of time so make sure to let him be little spoon sometimes </3

hoshi : quality time, physical touch (special mention: gifts)

okay i think this is a hot take but i think hoshi’s top love language (both giving and receiving) is quality time. not to like project but i’m also an infp and my top love language is quality time and i can js see that in hoshi. his favorite days are when you pick him up after work and the two of you go on long drives late into the night, accompanied by nothing but the bright stars and the low hum of your car’s engine as his hand is intertwined with yours. you just drive, listening to hoshi’s little stories and anecdotes about what happened during the day. the topics could range from what his coffee tasted like that day to how another member made him upset and you would just sit there, listening to him talk. he liked it when it was js the two of you, his hand in yours and being in the same space as you. he loved the way you glanced over at him whenever you could, flashing him that lovely smile of yours and patting his hand whenever he got particularly frustrated. he wants to be with you at all times, even if you aren’t particularly doing anything together. he js likes breathing the same air as you

this kinda correlates with quality time BUT LET HIM HOLD YOUR HAND. PLEASE. he feels so much more at ease if your hand is in his and he js wants to feel your presence right like he likes being in the same room as you but he would like it even more if he was attached to your hip so he can hold you and kiss you whenever he wants yk? def kind of like a forehead and kisses kind of guy ofc he loves your lips but smth about kissing your forehead makes him feel all soft and fuzzy inside (he mentioned last night about his kiss transmitting to your brain faster through your forehead than your lips since it’s closer to your brain or smth but you don’t rlly remember since that was at 2 in the morning) surprise back hugs and resting his chin on your shoulder. you’re the only person he allows to squeeze his cheeks and call him ‘adorable’ and he likes it. he likes being adored by you, he likes having you in his personal space because when it comes to you, he doesn’t have any

special mention: GIFTS!!! i mostly wanted to write this part bc of that iconic clip of hoshi falling flat to his face after receiving a pair of jeans that he wanted/were expensive so he paused the music during the rehearsal and was thanking everyone LMAO yeah that’s infp’s, they get super touched by the smallest gestures so gift giving is one sure way of showing him how much you appreciate and love him.

wonwoo : words of affirmation, quality time

wonwoo my lovely boy :((((( he’s a bit more quiet so when you first started dating, he wasn’t very vocal about his affections and feelings but he’s worked on it and grown a lot since then. not the type to declare his love every 2 minutes but like the small “i’m proud of you” with a warm smile or a “good job” “you did amazing” like he js knows what to say to make you feel better. he’s a smart person and he makes the right word choices to comfort you and make you feel loved even without those 3 words. blushes whenever you compliment him and hides his face in his hands. gets so shy when you compliment him bc you???? the most wonderful human in the universe thinks he’s?????? the best thing to happen to you??????? pls keep telling him that bc he loves hearing from you how much you love him and how much he means to you bc it really helps him when he’s feeling down (he even has a separate album on his camera roll of js screenshots of your texts and words of encouragement specifically for rougher rehearsals/days)

quality time!! i think we kinda saw this coming, he likes sitting on the couch with you, playing super smash bros and he loves the way you bounce up and down in your seat whenever the game gets intense or you get excited. when they’re more complex pc games, he’s never admitted it out loud, but he likes it when you sit next to him at his desk, watching over his shoulder. “get ‘em get em right there- OOOO THAT WAS SO CLOSE BABE” you always ask him if you’re annoying him during his games but absolutely the fuck not bc he loves hearing you comment and he loves it even more when you give him a victory kiss after a game. it was js a quick peck on the cheek regardless of whether or not he won bc he’ll “always be a winner in [your] eyes” also liked it when you comforted him whenever he lost and cursed out his opponents bc although he himself never does it, it feels nice to hear you call 37 year old men on the internet “prissy dickwads who still wet the bed and cry for their mommies”. has he ever told you that he loves you?

woozi : acts of service, physical touch

jihoon is a man of a lot of unspoken words and feelings. not a big fan of physical touch or talking, so he resorts to relying on his actions to relay his feelings. i think we all know what i’m about to say; his giving love language is song writing which basically is a combination of acts of service and gift giving. his second ever ‘i love you’ was through a song (he thought the first one should be said out loud since it’s a pretty big deal) but he just loves you and cares for you sososososososo much but why js say them in the same ol’ tone in the same ol’ way when he can say that over and over again in hundreds of different ways accompanied by thousands of different sweet melodies? yeah and bc you’re a big music nerd too, he feels appreciated how you always listen attentively at least twice, once for the music and a second time for the lyrics. and then the praise and compliments that came flooding in afterwards is almost as immeasurable as his love for you. he sometimes wonders how you never run out of compliments to say but he loves it. and besides songs, woozi loves to take care of you. making sure you’re fully tucked into bed before he turns off the lights, making sure to stock up on oatmeal raisin cookies in his studio because he knows you love them (despite seungkwan’s absolute hatred for them and how ‘deceiving’ they are), folding your laundry for you when you’re busy, and occasional breakfasts in bed 🥹

OKAY. HEAR ME OUT. he doesn’t like physical touch in general but you (and dokyeom) are the only exceptions. he js kinda melts and knows he’s safe when he’s in your arms. not really one to initiate skinship but will NEVER decline if you offer cuddles bc.. they’re cuddles. from you. why would he say no? he likes it when you’re on his couch in his universe factory and js kinda hold him during his breaks in between long work periods. it helps him de-stress and momentarily forget about all the new chord progressions, rhythms, and lyrics he’d been working on the for the past 3 hours. he melts under your touch when you run your hands through his hair, his head in your lap and staring up at the ceiling (aka stealing glimpses of your face whenever he can) ofc there are days where he wants to be alone and you respect that, which he’s thankful for. likes head pats pls give him lots of head pats and your occasional surprise kiss on the cheek will have that man BLUSHINGGGGG (pls keep doing it he loves it)

reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^-^

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