#nothing I will do it my way or I will ask someone else

[bunnys-kisses]

hi can I please make an order of crème caramel, berry trifle, mango sorbet and a spicy upside down cake with a side of lemon water served by Max Verstappen please? Sorry it's a bit long tho...

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu, i'd love to hear your order! and thank you to everyone who submitted orders! i am working through them!!

crème caramel ("oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" ) + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + mango sorbet ("you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?") + spicy upside down cake ( "let's play a game: don't get caught.") + lemon water (university/college au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, university au, bully!max, mean!max, semi-public sex, library sex, fwb gone horrible, dirty talk/degrading language, obsessive!max, oral sex (max receives), choking/deep throating

"where are you going, schat?" max loomed over you like a heavy cloud as he placed his hands on your hips. he held you like he owned you, and in all fairness... sometimes it felt like he did.

you thought the one time you'd try to have a one night stand that everything would go swimmingly. but you picked the wrong man on campus.

graduate student, about three years your senior. with hands like bear paws and about the same strength as one in his grip. and he held you in the middle of the library.

"you just came in and now you're turning around in leaving? surely you had something to do here today. it was close to eight in the evening, the library was next to dead. you remained silent for a moment before he added, "oh. you thought you were getting away from me? is that it, you thought you could leave before i found you?"

you swallowed and lied, "i forgot something."

he chuckled as he leaned in a little closer, "was it your panties? because i found them in my car yesterday. pink with flowers? they kept me busy all of last night when you were ignoring my texts." he held onto you a little tighter, "it's not polite to ignore me, liefje."

the issue was that you wanted a one night stand with someone outside of your little english department. so you ended up with a geography graduate student... however, after that night, max became your shadow.

"what did you do to my panties, max?"

he let go of you and turned you in his arms. he smiled at you, the kind of smile that most at the school would trip over themselves to see. but you could see something else in those blue eyes, "don't worry, i washed them when i was done." then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

you pulled back a little, but couldn't go far as he had you basically trapped against him. you could call for help, but the student librarian at the front desk was more occupied with her phone.

max pulled your attention back to him as he said, "why don't we study together? think of it like a date."

you'd never date someone like max. not even as his thumbs tried to push up your t-shirt a little, you managed to get away. you swallowed, you could run and hide. but, max had more eyes on the school than cameras. someone would catch a glimpse of you somewhere on campus and max would find you.

max verstappen was denied very little in his life. and he wasn't going to start of trend of not getting his way.

"so why were you running away, my love?" he asked as he pressed himself up against you. his strong arms were around you middle as he pressed you to him. he smiled was threatening and you felt a cold chill down your spine.

"i told you. i forgot something." you tried to use the last bit of fight in you. but those eyes of his were all knowing.

"wrong. try again." he said before he went in and kissed you on the cheek, "i remember our first night together. you made me feel like nothing else could. you made me feel alive. i hate when you run away from me." he kissed the corner of your lip softly, "now, why don't we study tonight."

you looked up at him. he was a bit taller than you and for sure stronger. the gaze in his eyes warmed up when you nodded, accepting his offer for studying.

see, you knew what max needed. he wanted to be closer to you, he wanted to feel you all over. he even wanted to take you out on dates and make you the center of his world. he was obsessed with you, and you just needed to see that he loved you. but that meant less struggling.

he led you into the back of the library, the furthest part with two chairs in a desk. there was no one else around for a good while. most had left for the evening. which left you alone with max.

"liefje." he said as he sat on the chair and unzipped his fly, "come here." it was a siren's call before he sank his teeth into you. before he ripped you to shreds and drag you under the waves.

you knew what you had to do, you were thankful that the pants you wore were comfy because you knew that one round, even in a semi-public space, wouldn't be enough for max. you knew another pair of your panties would end up in his car.

he watched you lower to your knees and licked his lips, you looked like a doll to him. he said quietly, "let's play a game: don't get caught." before he ran his hands through your hair.

your face was up against his cock and you shuddered a little bit. the size of it was impressive and it made your mouth water a little. this was how he trapped you. the allure of his heavy cock in your face.

with a small whine he pushed your face further against his cock and you had no choice but to take it in your mouth. but few pleasantries were made when he got the tip up against your throat. you whined a little bit, it was almost a whorish noise as you relaxed against his grasp.

mad max, mean max, whatever you wanted to call him. you felt almost at home on your knees in front of him. he was your hook up gone wrong. horribly wrong.

his voice was a curl in your brain and made you shift a little bit on the carpeted ground, "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?" he knew you had to take an extra semester because you failed a course. in a slight fairness it was max's fault, he wouldn't let you go write your final exam. too busy bruising that cunt of yours well into the morning.

even if you tried to write the exam all your brain cells were gone due to how hard hew as fucking you. even now, with his cock in your throat, you felt a loss in most brain activity. no higher thinking while he was choking you on his cock.

you felt amazing around his cock, there were few words to describe how it all felt. he could feel the flutter in his chest as he rammed his cock up against your throat. and when you made a choking noise, he told you to "shut up." before he kept battering his cock up against the back of your throat.

you looked up at him, your eyes looked so innocent as he pressed his cock into your throat as deep as it would go. he still had a lot to teach you about deep throating, but for now he'd take a small pleasure in your choked noises.

"such a pretty girl." he said, "you look so good on your knees. is this how you were passing all your courses? pretty blouses and dick sucking lips." he chuckled lowly as he gripped onto your head further.

you whimpered a little bit as you held onto his strong thighs as you worked yourself onto his cock. you felt the buzz in your head as you continued to move your head.

"this is how i like you. i don't get why you don't understand that. most would kill for a chance to be in your spot. but you get it so easily." he said in a low, harsh tone.

you whined a little bit and arched your back. you felt your body splashed with heat. you trembled a little bit with a certain want. max verstappen knew how to play you like a fiddle. he knew how to take you apart and put all your pieces back together as he liked them.

"such a good girl for me. i'm glad i got a hold of you before you became a slut. now you can't cum on anyone's dick but mine." he said harshly.

in the back corner of the library you gave him head. your brain felt unfocused as he bullied the tip up against your pretty throat. he wanted to bruise it so you couldn't talk for a few days.

"no need to speak words, liefje. not when your boyfriend could do all the talking for you." he said and the words marked on your brain and made your core soaked.

"max." you tried to say with his cock in your mouth.

"shush." he said.

you looked at him once more before his grip on you started to tighten even more. he pushed his cock up against your throat once more, you knew it would be bruised come morning.

you whined and relaxed yourself enough for him to finish down your throat. he groaned and held onto you as he finished in your mouth. you tasted the saltiness down your throat. and your mind went little a blurry for a moment.

when you got your mouth off his cock, you rested your face on his thigh and looked up at him. max was almost sweet when he brushed the side of your face.

"you should be studying how to make me feel good. stupid little thing already knows enough about english." he pinched your cheeks, "be my bride."

you pouted a little, your lips glossed with spit and pre cum, "no, max."

he sighed before he gripped your hair again, "enough thinking. get on the table. i'm not done with you." max knew you inside and out, no other man on campus could compare to him. he'll teach you eventually, that his love was the only one you needed.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I'm so happy that you're inbox is open! I love your fics 💜

I have a few ideas for request but I don't want to overwhelm your inbox 😅

I thought about Eddie x fem reader where reader is not into PDA and all of Eddie's friends are telling him that reader is not into him and he should let her go. They don't believe Eddie saying the reader is crazy about him like he is about her.

She cares about him, help him with homework and even put his socks on when he's napping during movie night. Eddie's friends think that he sees her through rose colored glasses.

But one time Gareth or someone else saw how she threatened cheerleader that was telling shit about Eddie.

Or other time Gareth came to trailer park because Eddie had a cold and he was shocked when he saw reader taking care of Eddie.

Thank you for you time!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

No PDA

Eddie found himself in a new relationship with Y/N, she was a cheerleader and popular. Their relationship was a shock to everyone and Eddie's friends were skeptical.

Gareth was suspicious from the start. To him, it was weird that Eddie and Y/N didn't act like a couple. They have been together for a few months and Gareth had never seen them do anything more than talking. He didn't think he had ever seen them hold hands or kiss, they looked like friends.

He had talked to Eddie about it many times but Eddie always said that Y/N was crazy about him and there was nothing to be worried about. Gareth wasn't sure if he could believe that without seeing it with his own eyes.

Eddie knew Y/N loved him. It was obvious in the way she took care of him. She wasn't much for public display of affection and Eddie was cool with that. He felt loved by her in different ways. She stayed late to help him with homework, bought his favorite snacks at the store, and always let him pick the movie for date night.

~~~

Gareth was walking down the hallway when he heard the sound of arguing. He looked around the corner and saw Y/N and another cheerleader getting into each other's faces.

"Keep his name out of your mouth. I'm not going to let you talk shit about my boyfriend. If I hear you say anything about him again, I'll get your ass kicked off the team."

Gareth watched as the other stomped and walked away, Y/N looked proud of herself as she walked in the other direction.

Well, Gareth had to give her a point there.

~~~

Eddie came down with a bad cold so he couldn't go to school. Gareth, as his best friend, collected all his homework and planned to drop it off. He stopped at the store for medicine and soup, just in case Wayne was too busy to grab some.

Gareth was confused when he saw another car parked in front of the trailer. He carried the bag of groceries and endless homework. He knocked on the door and called out for Eddie.

But Eddie didn't answer the door, it was Y/N.

"Hey Gareth, come on in," she said, a polite smile on her face

"What are you doing here?" Gareth asked, setting down the groceries on the table

"Taking care of Eddie," she laughed, "Homework and food?" she asked as she began to take out the food from the bags

"Uh yeah, I wasn't sure if Wayne would be able to take care of him," Gareth explained

"Yeah, he's at work, thank you for grabbing all of this. He's in his bedroom if you want to see him."

Gareth nodded, watching as she began to make soup on the stove. He walked towards to Eddie's bedroom, shocked to see how clean it was.

"I don't think I've ever seen your room so clean," Gareth said in awe as he walked in

Eddie tried to laugh but it came out as a harsh cough, "Yeah, Y/N cleaned while I slept."

"I brought you your homework and some soup," Gareth said as he put the books on Eddie's bed

"Thanks, man," Eddie said through sniffles.

"So how long has Y/N been here?" Gareth asked, standing near the door so he didn't catch anything.

"All day, once I told her I was sick she drove over here and has been taking care of me all day. Even put my socks in the dryer so they can be warm!" Eddie gushed, wiggling his toes in his warm socks.

"So she uh, really takes care of you, huh?" Gareth asked

"I told you, she cares about me and loves me. She prefers to do it in private," Eddie said, "and other things in private," he added as he wiggled his eyebrows

"Eddie, don't be a perv," Y/N said as she walked through the door with a bowl of hot soup

Eddie rolled his eyes but happily took the bowl of soup. He sat up as she set the bowl in his hands.

Gareth watched as Eddie ate his soup, and Y/N pushed back his hair to feel his forehead.

Maybe he should have believed Eddie in the first place

Tags!

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[loserlvrss]

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐈 ( 최산 )

pairing : choi san x fem!reader genre : drabble, [ MDNI 18+ ] smut, established relationship warnings : unprotected sex, petnames, exibitionism, language word count : 0.9k authors note : the lipstick just felt right idk

a soft sigh left your boyfriend’s mouth, and you pressed another kiss to his shoulder—right above his collarbone. his hands gripped your bare thighs, possessive finger prints sure to be left when the deed was done. his head was thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every gulp.

your head leveled, admiring the stains your lipstick made against his sculpted upper body. he was beautiful, but san swore he’d never seen something more ethereal than you above him. he’d be happy dying right now, inside you. which was arguably his favorite place to be.

“fuck, baby.” you whimpered, clawing at his abdomen as you lifted and dropped your hips in a steady rhythm, “we’re shaking the car so much.” a breathy laugh cascaded from his open mouth. “leaving nothing to the imagination.”

“let them watch, then.” he smirked, your insides clenching just a bit harder at the sight—and thought. “i’m the one fucking you, aren’t i?”

you felt a sense of relief at the thought. yeah, he was. no one knew you better. ruined from the inside out by the most perfect man you’ve ever called yours.

but it was still midday, the sunshine glistening over both your skin. the windows were fogged up—clichely—the humidity making a drop of sweat roll down your sternum. san fought the urge to lean in and lick between your boobs, watching through hooded eyes.

“actually,” you braced yourself, speeding up just a little bit. a hearty moan left his throat, as you gulped your noises down. you pouted, “i’m doing all the work.”

“are you?” he asked, a sudden sense of competitiveness mixing with the lust in the air, “i know you can’t cum like this, angel.”

“fuck o—“ you rolled your eyes as his hands grabbed your ass, assisting your fleeting attempts to keep you both satisfied. “g-god.” he lifted you just enough to still be shoved deep inside you, thrusting up into the spot that kept your vision blurry.

your cherry-red nails wracked over the lipstick marks, smudging them. you were a mess, metaphorically and not, and it coated him in love. he’d never been graced with someone as beautiful as you. never someone so innocent looking, but so goddamn devilish. you had him wrapped around your fingers with the webs you spun, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

he would live and die with you, that was for certain.

you bit your lip, trying your best to be quiet—because after all, you were in a public park. yes, your windows were tinted, but by how much the car was moving, it wouldn’t be hard to plainly see what was happening on the leather seats.

his fingers gripped your jaw, leaving your lower half for a moment. then, his thumb ran over your bottom lip, dragging the color across them and to your cheek.

it was hot. everything was hot; the sun shining through the windows, the early september, your boyfriend's intoxicating gaze and ways. the way he felt inside you and as his hands roamed your skin. he was hot. borderline burning.

you were out of breath, using whatever was left in you to tell him how close you were to coming undone.

“yeah?” he asked, humming as he leaned up to capture your smudged lips in a kiss that somehow left you even more breathless. you panted against his mouth, and he smirked so devilishly well that your stomach twisted impossibly tighter. “i told you baby, we both know what you need.” he was right. he knew you so well. every little thing that got you going, and made you stop was his to read and memorize.

“s-san—oh my god.” you spewed out between moans (that you didn’t even care about anymore). “fuc-fuck, baby, please don’t stop.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, princess. this was just the warm up.” if you were half a mind you would’ve laughed, however you were on the brink of the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt brewing. and he knew that, only adding fuel to the fire. “go ahead and cum so we can get home, fuck this date, baby, i need you seven ways to sunday, right now.”

you came, hard, and then so did san, stilling you both as it got overwhelming. you pecked his skin to ground yourself, leaving behind traces of red that were barely noticeable now that your lipstick was everywhere but your lips. his chest rose and fell with an unsteady rhythm, keeping lodged inside of you—because that’s how you both liked it.

enough time went by that the windows were beginning to become see through again, and you huffed, the reality sinking in. his head leveled from being thrown back—just letting you nip at his skin—giving you a confused look.

you pushed off his chest, staring down at him. “it’s hot.” you admired your art, getting a little worked up at the thought of another person seeing the stains you’d left, “and you’re a mess.”

but, you wouldn’t let that happen.

“yeah, it is.” he used the back of his arm to swipe his lips, not really doing much to clean them. “and you’re not much better yourself, angel.”

but, somehow you’d gotten here, disregarding the small sandwiches you’d made earlier and the diet pepsi that was going flat as it warmed in the trunk; prepared (almost 30 minutes ago) for a cute picnic date with your man. but… you guess, you’ve never actually felt fuller now.

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

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back to masterlist !

[deadsnakey]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔? 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

—> Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott love to bother you, it's so obvious they hate you. Do they really, though?

Check out the request here!

—> Enemies to lovers, kind of... Fluff, a little angst possibly and two idiotic boyfriends who think bothering you very clearly means they like you.

★ Ok, this might be a little messy but just stay with me here.

★ since first year, mattheo thought you were so pretty and just adorable. though, he always kept his distance as much as possible.

★ it wasn't untill around third year that mattheo and Theodore started getting really close, eventually dating in 5th year.

★ but there was still a huge problem, you.

★ they both knew they liked you, they've talked about it voguely a few times and since then they've had to an understanding that you belong to them and no one else...even if you didn't know it yet.

★ unfortunately for you, they only knew one way to flirt; teasing and bothering you.

★ its not too long until you start trying to avoid them as much as possible, knowing you'll be teased relentlessly or the butt of their joke that you never found funny.

★ they always called you names like princess, sweetheart, doll or darling. nicknames in Italian from Theo that you didn't really understand.

★ Stealing your pencils, notebooks, homework or even your wand just to get your attention. They'd dangle it where you couldn't reach. Anything for your attention.

you were going to your last period of the day, hoping you'd be able to make it through without seeing them, the two boys. you've been lucky enough to go the whole day without seeing them but you still technically had two more hours before you'd be safe in your dorm for the night.

you've made it to class, and successfully made it through. walking through the halls, listening to music. your huffy puffy friend ended up stopping you for a few minutes to ask about the material you both were learning at the moment in potions.

once done, you quickly started walking again, about to press play on your music again when you feel someone lightly tap your shoulder. you sigh to yourself, hoping it wasn't the two boys whom you've been dreading of seeing; let alone talking to.

"hey, princess. where you've been lately? hm? avoiding us, weren't you?" mattheo taunted, a smirk stretched on the side of his lips.

you slowly blinked, in disbelief. "why? miss taunting your toy? can you guys just leave me alone? I've done nothing to you." they both huffed, "toy? is that how you really see it? you know it's quite saddening you'd think of us in such a way, darling." mattheo put his arm on theodore's shoulder, slighting leaning on it.

"yeah, okay." you harshly spat out, turning on your heel to get away from them. Theodore was quicker. he gently but firmly grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest making you stumble; your back now touching his clothed chest. you were quickly intoxicated with the smell of faint cigarettes and cinnamon.

"what? got nothing to say now, tesoro?", "don't call me that. and let me go!" you struggled. "someone's feisty, eh? c'mon, lets go to my dorm. I think we need to have a little chat with you." mattheo said, gently putting his hand on the top of your head in a genuine gesture as Theodore started walking, mattheo in front as he led the way and Theodore making sure you're not trying to escape from behind you.

★ safe to say, you were scared.

★ but they really did just want to talk to you. they confessed their feelings for you although you were confused. they hated you.

★ they explained that they didn't hate you, they were head over heels for you if anything. they just...had a really bad way of showing it, hence the constant and brutal teasing.

★ you were shocked. but you told them that they needed to give you some time, you told them as long as they toned it down and stopped being so cruel with their teasing and jokes and actually got to now them, you'd consider dating them.

★ They finally got your attention and they loved it.

★ after 4 awful months of torture from these two, it payed off.

★ fast forward to the end of sixth year, you developed feelings from them both and heavily overtime. that's when you told them that you had came to falling for them and would love to date them both; now that you felt ready.

★ they were soooo happy, definitely lots of affection from these two the rest of the day and night.

[cerise-on-top]

hi sunshine 🤍 could you possibly do T141 with a hyper-independent S/O?! I’m hyper-independent and sometimes it can get very overwhelming and it would be nice to have someone try to break down my walls to help me understand that i can ask others for help!! sending all the love💕 Thank you!!

Hey there, sure I can!

TF141 with a Hyper Independent S/O

Price: I don’t think Price was too traumatized as a child, so he probably can’t relate to you very well. Maybe to the slightest degree since he, as a captain, is often seen as an authority figure, who needs to be relied on and make all the decisions. It’s not often that he gets to shut off his brain a little and be left alone. But all of that comes from his work environment, not because he was neglected as a child. I think he’d notice fairly quickly how you don’t seem to ask him for anything, ever. Not to get you a small snack, not to ask him what tomorrow’s weather might be, not to help you build that IKEA furniture. Truth be told, he’ll feel as though he’s failed as a boyfriend since his love language is acts of service. He wants to do things for you, but you don’t let him. It would annoy him at first, but he wants this to work, so he’ll talk to you about it. You’d have to be honest with him, or else I can’t see things working out for you both. If you are, then he’ll try his best to be more observant, try to find out what you like and don’t like. He’ll give you as much attention as you want whenever he can and always ask you if there’s some task that hasn’t been finished yet. You need to calm down a little bit, he does want you to rely at least a little on him. Even if it’s just something along the lines of letting him wash your clothes for once. He wants you to relax, to take some time off for yourself so you can recharge. I know it’s hard for you, but he’ll continue to communicate with you. However, you need to do the same for him too. He doesn’t want your relationship to fall apart because of something like this.

Gaz: His parents did not love him after some time, so he had to learn to rely on himself because absolutely no one would do anything at all for him. And yet, he still became successful. So yeah, I think he could relate to you. Though, I think he was able to stop himself from becoming hyper independent somewhere along the way when he was just about to break yet again. I think he would ask you for things here and there. Nothing big, he’s just self-sufficient that way, but he will ask you to cook him a certain meal when he gets home late or maybe draw him a bath. Naturally, he would do the same things and so much more for you, if you ever asked. And yet, you take it upon yourself to do everything on your own. He could probably see himself in you a little bit, which is why he’d approach you and talk to you about it. He can tell you’re not doing too well. That’s probably one of the first times he’ll open up to you about his past as well, to show you you’re not alone. He’ll ask you how he can help, how he can take this burden off your shoulders and help you become a happier person. He will go to great lengths to show you that you can rely on him. It’s okay if you can’t ask him for help right away, he’ll make sure to always tell you that he’s there for you and will try to help you with whatever it is you’re doing, whether it be finishing a report or trying to help you cope with the inherent isolation that comes with being hyper independent. I think, in a way, helping you would help heal his inner child as well. He wasn’t cared for for a long time, so it’s nice to care for you instead. He had no one for a long time either and it wasn’t good for him, so he would do whatever he could to help you through it all. He’s a very patient man too, so there’s that.

Ghost: Ah yes, the king of trauma himself. As you can probably tell, he’ll also be able to relate to you since he was actively abused as a child and doesn’t trust anyone around him, that isn’t the 141, Nikolai, Laswell or you. He does everything on his own, and I don’t think he’ll ever ask you for anything either. Maybe a simple “Do you have a quid? I wanna buy that tea.” but nothing more than that. So it’s probably gonna be difficult for the both of you to admit that something is wrong with you. Chances are you’ll break before him, though, and will be caught having a mental breakdown. If you’re honest with him, then that’s the first time he’ll realize that being like this is, indeed, not normal. He doesn’t want to see you breaking down and crying because you’ve been isolating yourself this much and can’t trust anyone. I don’t think he’ll be able to help you. Sure, he’ll suggest leaving some things to him here and there since he is a very competent man, who refuses to let you down, but he doesn’t really know what to say. At all. So I think he’ll probably make the suggestion of the both of you going to therapy together. I think the therapist will make him realize that he is not, by any means, “normal” and will tell him what might be wrong with him, but that’s for another time. I think he’d try to work it out with you somehow, trying to be more open to set an example for you, as uncomfortable as it might seem for him. He will reward you for “good behavior”, though, such as asking him to clean the bathroom since you were too burnt out that day. He’ll get you some ice cream. Your favorite flavor too, naturally, since he wants this to become a common occurrence. And he, in turn, will try to ask you for help here and there too. Mostly comfort. But he’ll try, just for you.

Soap: Another lil fella, who had a loving family. Sure, his parents sometimes ignored him when he became too loud and rowdy. But other than that? His childhood was pretty alright. He got into a lot of fights, though. Little Johnny never knew when enough was enough. However, he grew up to be a fine and observant man. He knows what you like and how you like it. Do you like your tea with sugar, honey or milk? He doesn’t even need to ask since he already knows. He will do what he can to help you however he can. He knows he’s a damn fine boyfriend, who will make your life as easy as possible. …except, for some reason, his plans aren’t working out? You avoid him more and more the more he does for you, and for no apparent reason as well? Oh, he’s pissed, but will talk to you about it. “Bonnie, you know I love you, right? So why do you avoid me like the plague?” Once he realizes why you’re the way you are, you can count on him being pissed beyond compare. You need to hold him back if you don’t want him to call your caretakers and insult them in a way only an angry Scot can. At that point, he’ll vow to himself to become an even better boyfriend. He’ll remind you that he’ll do absolutely anything for you. And he keeps his word as well. He’ll bring you coffee, he’ll buy groceries, he’ll deck someone for you. Just give him the word, please. However, he’ll be super proud of you if you ever do ask him for help and will give you a big hug and a few kisses. Baby steps, as he always says. He loves you more than anyone else, so naturally he’ll be patient with you and help you however he can. Even if it’s just a small reminder that he could do it instead.

[be4chywritez]

sweet nothing | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x heiress!reader

I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings

request : heiress of mclaren and oscar they meet at like a dinner at her estate or something and her dad or like father figure asks if oscar is single, and oscar says yes and her father figure tells them to go on a date and they end up going out maybe oscar is a lil asshole😊

You brush the dirt off your hands, glancing proudly at the roses you’ve just planted. The soil is warm under your fingers, and you lean back, wiping sweat from your forehead. A small smile plays on your lips as you admire the neat rows of blooms, but your peace is broken when you hear your name being called.

You turn, blinking against the sunlight, and spot your grandfather standing by the patio, his brows furrowed in that way he always does when he’s trying to look serious. Lando stands beside him, grinning widely, and next to him is someone you don’t recognize—a tall guy with messy brown hair and a quiet expression.

Your grandfather calls again, his voice a little sharper now. “Come here for a moment.”

You dust your hands off on your shorts and shuffle over, feeling the light breeze cool the sweat on your skin. Lando’s grin widens as you approach. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he teases.

“Always,” you respond, flashing him a playful smile. Your gaze drifts to the new guy, and your curiosity piques. He stands a little more stiffly than Lando, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. There’s something about the way he glances at you—polite, but distant—that makes you feel like you’re meeting someone important.

“This is Oscar Piastri,” Lando says, nudging the guy next to him. “Newest McLaren driver.”

Oscar smiles at you, though it’s small and a bit shy, like he’s not used to all the attention. “Hi,” he says, his accent lilting in a way that catches your attention.

“Hi,” you reply, a little awkward, but you can’t help but smile back. You try to remember if you’ve heard his name before, but your mind draws a blank. Racing was never something you followed closely, even if it was always around you.

Before you can say anything else, your grandfather clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with something that makes you uneasy. “Oscar’s a fine driver,” he says, his voice heavy with authority. “I think it would be good for you two to spend some time together.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Wait… what?”

Your grandfather’s expression doesn’t falter. He crosses his arms, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oscar, are you single?” he asks, turning the conversation before you can even process what he’s suggesting.

Oscar looks a little startled, his eyes darting from your grandfather to you, then back again. “Uh, yes, sir,” he answers, and you notice his fingers fidget slightly, like he’s not sure how to react either.

“Good,” your grandfather replies, his tone firm. “Then I suggest you take my granddaughter out on a date.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your mouth dropping open slightly. “A—date?”

Oscar looks as surprised as you feel, and for a second, you’re not sure who’s more uncomfortable. But then he nods, his voice soft but steady. “If that’s what you want, sir.”

You don’t know what to say. You glance at Oscar, who looks just as confused as you are, but there’s something in his gaze—something careful and maybe even curious. He doesn’t seem like the type to argue with your grandfather, and honestly, neither are you.

Lando, ever the instigator, lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting.”

You smile awkwardly, not sure what to make of it all. Oscar offers you a small, almost apologetic smile, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He seems nice enough, and if nothing else, it’ll be a chance to get to know him.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. It’s not the quiet, tucked-away café you were imagining, but rather a bustling spot with large windows, modern decor, and a steady stream of people coming and going. Your stomach twists with nervous excitement as you spot Oscar standing by the entrance, looking cool and collected in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.

“Hey,” he greets you with a brief smile, his hands in his pockets. There’s a casual confidence in the way he stands, but something about his demeanor feels a little… distant, like he’s already halfway checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back as he steps aside to let you walk in first. The restaurant hums with energy—clinking glasses, soft chatter, and the occasional laugh. You feel a little out of place, like maybe this is fancier than you were expecting.

Oscar pulls out your chair, but there’s something about the motion that feels more like routine than a thoughtful gesture. As you sit down, he moves quickly to his own seat, already glancing at the menu like this is just another pit stop in his day.

“So, you like this place?” you ask, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” Oscar says with a short nod, eyes still scanning the menu. “It’s close by, and the food’s good.” His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s keeping things at arm’s length.

You fiddle with your napkin, glancing around at the other patrons—groups of friends laughing together, couples holding hands. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. You were hoping for something quieter, more personal, but this feels… different.

The waiter comes by, and you both place your orders. Oscar seems at ease, chatting with the waiter casually, but when his attention turns back to you, there’s a moment of awkward silence. You search for something to say, but it’s hard to get a read on him. He’s polite, sure, but there’s a wall up—one you can’t quite figure out how to get past.

“So, what do you do for fun?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation into something light.

Oscar leans back, shrugging a little. “Mostly training, to be honest. Racing takes up a lot of my time.”

You nod, not sure what to say next. He’s not giving you much to work with, and you start to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he’s just busy, or maybe he’s just not interested. Either way, the conversation feels stilted, like you’re trying too hard to fill the gaps.

“Do you follow F1?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed. “Honestly, not really,” you admit. “I mean, I know about it because of my family, but I’ve never really been that into it.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

You flush slightly, not sure how to take that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t push further, just takes a sip of his water and glances out the window, his mind seemingly elsewhere. You feel a flicker of disappointment. This wasn’t how you imagined your first date going—Oscar seemed nice enough, but there’s a coolness to him that you can’t shake.

As the food arrives, you try to make the best of the situation, steering the conversation back to lighter topics. You talk about your garden again, hoping to spark some interest, but while Oscar listens, he doesn’t offer much in return. Every now and then, he glances at his phone, not enough to be rude, but enough to make you wonder if he’s distracted by something else.

“Sorry,” he says once, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Just… work stuff.”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but it adds to the growing sense that maybe this date isn’t a priority for him. You had expected a chance to connect, to get to know him beyond the racer image, but it feels like you’re barely scratching the surface.

Still, you don’t want to give up just yet.

“Have you always wanted to be a driver?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Oscar’s gaze flicks to you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, since I was a kid. I was pretty focused on it, even when I was younger. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”

For a moment, you see a glimpse of something more—a passion that runs deep, something that makes him tick. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone again, his expression neutral once more.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of small talk and polite conversation, but the spark you had hoped for never really comes. As the check arrives, Oscar pulls out his card without hesitation, glancing at you with a half-smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asks.

You nod, feeling a little deflated, but you don’t want to show it. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he’s just not the type to open up easily. Either way, you feel like there’s something you’re missing, something that keeps him at a distance.

As you both step out into the cool evening air, Oscar walks you to the curb where his car is parked. He pauses for a moment, looking at you, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s going to say something that might change the tone of the evening.

But instead, he just smiles—a little tired, a little distracted. “It was nice hanging out with you,” he says, his tone polite but nothing more.

“Yeah, it was,” you reply, trying to match his energy, though the words feel hollow.

Oscar opens the car door for you, and as you slide in, you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes. There’s something he’s not telling you—something that keeps him from fully being here with you.

As he drives you home, the silence between you grows, and you find yourself staring out the window, wondering if maybe you were hoping for too much too soon.

Despite the awkwardness of the first date, Oscar lingers in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit. There’s something about him—his quiet intensity, the way he carries himself—that draws you in, even if he hasn’t fully opened up to you yet. Maybe it’s just the mystery of it all. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s unlike anyone you’ve dated before.

Your crush sneaks up on you slowly. You catch yourself thinking about what you’ll wear next time you see him. You imagine different scenarios in your head—how the next date might go, whether he’ll be more relaxed, more present. You convince yourself that it’s just a matter of time.

When the next race rolls around, you decide to attend. You tell yourself it’s because you’re supporting McLaren, but deep down, you know it’s because of Oscar. Even though things were a little off between you two, there’s a part of you that’s eager to see him again. Maybe things will be different this time.

The race is packed with spectators, and the air hums with excitement. As you weave through the crowds, you feel a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Watching Oscar on the track feels different now—you’re not just another fan in the stands. You’re here for him, and that thought makes your heart race a little faster.

The race itself is thrilling, and you can’t help but feel happiness as Oscar crosses the finish line. He doesn’t win, but he holds his own, finishing in a solid position. You smile, thinking about how you’ll congratulate him afterward.

After the race, you find your way to the paddock, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot Oscar among the throngs of people. He’s surrounded by his team, all smiles and handshakes as they celebrate a job well done. When he sees you, his expression flickers for a moment—recognition, maybe a touch of something softer—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice a little too bright. “Congrats on the race.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies, offering you a polite smile. His demeanor is cool, but not unfriendly—just… reserved. You start to notice the subtle distance between you, like he’s here, but not entirely.

“Maybe we could grab a drink later?” you suggest, your tone casual, but your nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Oscar glances at his watch, then back at you. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.”

It’s not a no, but it’s not exactly the enthusiastic yes you were hoping for either. Still, you brush it off, telling yourself that he’s probably just tired from the race.

You stand there for a moment, watching Oscar disappear into the crowd. There’s a strange feeling lingering in your chest—something about the interaction seemed… off. But before you can get too deep in your thoughts, a familiar voice breaks through.

“Already scaring him off?” Lando teases, sidling up to you with his usual playful grin.

You turn to him, laughing despite yourself. “Please, Lando. I’m not that terrifying.”

He leans against the nearby barrier, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Nah, just a little intimidating with your… I don’t know, your knowledge of roses or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “Not my fault you have no appreciation for fine horticulture.”

“Fine horticulture,” he repeats with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But seriously, how’s it going? Did Oscar hit you with that ‘strong and silent’ routine, or is he actually saying words now?”

You pause, trying to figure out how to answer. “He’s… quiet, yeah. But I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”

Lando hums, crossing his arms. “Oh, there’s definitely more. Just give him time. Maybe flash him a few more of those smiles—you know, the ones that make people all… swoony.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to use my superpowers wisely, then.”

Before Lando can retort, Oscar’s figure appears again, cutting through the crowd and making his way back toward you both. You feel a flutter of surprise. He was distant before, but now there’s a new intensity in his gaze.

“Hey,” Oscar says, glancing briefly at Lando before turning to you. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab those drinks after all?”

You blink, taken aback. “Yeah? I thought you weren’t sure about it earlier.”

Oscar shrugs slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles. “Changed my mind. If you’re still up for it.”

Lando snickers quietly next to you, clearly amused by the shift in Oscar’s tone. “Well, that sounds like a yes to me.”

You can’t help but smile, a warm excitement bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The bar Oscar takes you to is tucked away in the city, with low lighting and soft music humming in the background. It’s more intimate than the first restaurant—smaller, cozier. It makes you feel like this is something real, like there’s something between you both that’s beginning to take shape.

You sit across from each other at a small table, nursing drinks, and for a while, the conversation flows. Oscar’s a bit more relaxed than usual, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re finally cracking the surface, finally getting to see the person behind the cool, quiet exterior.

“So,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What made you change your mind? You seemed… hesitant before.”

Oscar looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to come up with the right words. “I guess I just thought it might be fun after all. Figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of hope. “Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

For a few more minutes, the conversation rolls on, and you find yourself leaning into it—into him. He’s attentive, even charming in his own way, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race a little faster. But then, just as things seem to settle into a comfortable rhythm, his phone lights up on the table.

You catch a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of your eye—a name you don’t recognize, followed by a few messages that he quickly swipes away without reading. It’s subtle, almost like he’s trying not to let you see it, but the moment leaves a faint unease in the back of your mind.

You push the feeling aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. Probably just a friend or someone from the team. But when his phone lights up again, this time with a more persistent vibration, it’s harder to ignore.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, his tone clipped as he checks his phone again before silencing it. “Just some messages. Nothing important.”

You nod, but the way he’s so quick to brush it off leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s like there’s a part of him still walled off, something he’s not telling you. But you don’t press, don’t want to ruin the moment.

As the evening goes on, you notice him glancing at his phone a few more times. The distraction is subtle, but it’s there, casting a small shadow over what otherwise feels like a perfect night.

You try to brush it off, reminding yourself that he’s a busy guy—he probably has a million things going on at once. But as the drinks dwindle and the conversation slows, you can’t help but feel like there’s something—or someone—else that’s occupying his thoughts.

The days after your drink date are… strange. You had hoped that spending more time with Oscar would bring you closer together, but instead, things feel more distant than ever. He’s not cold, not exactly, but there’s a guardedness to him that wasn’t there before.

He texts you, asks how you’re doing, but it’s never as warm as you want it to be. You tell yourself that maybe he’s just busy, that it’s just part of being a driver in such a high-stakes sport. But deep down, there’s a little voice in your head whispering that something isn’t right.

You push it aside, trying to focus on the excitement of seeing him again. When he suggests going to the beach, you jump at the chance, eager to spend more time with him.

The breeze is warm, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the sand beneath your feet as you walk side by side with Oscar. The beach is quieter than usual, only a few scattered people, and the rhythmic crash of the waves fills the gaps between your conversation. There’s a lightness to the moment—a sense of possibility. You sneak a glance at Oscar, feeling a small spark of excitement flutter in your chest.

You tell yourself not to read too much into it. But there’s a softness in his smile when he looks at you, a hint of something more, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what falling for someone is supposed to feel like.

“You’ve been quiet,” Oscar says, his voice cutting through the hum of the waves. He nudges you lightly with his arm, a playful gesture that makes you smile despite the nervousness you’ve felt creeping in since the start of the date.

“Just… thinking,” you reply, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sun is starting to dip low. “This is nice, though. I like spending time with you.”

You mean it. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the hesitations that have clouded your other dates, something about being here—walking with him along the shoreline—feels right. You’ve never had a relationship that felt this natural before. There’s always been some underlying expectation, some hidden motive from the people in your life who wanted you for your family’s name and status.

But with Oscar, you want to believe it’s different. You want to believe he likes you for you.

Oscar clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he says, his tone almost too casual. There’s a flicker of discomfort behind his words, like he’s trying to keep things light.

Before you can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, drawing both of your attentions.

“Oscar! Is that really you?”

You turn, and your heart sinks as you see a tall, stunning woman walking toward the two of you. She’s dressed effortlessly, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carries herself with a confidence that immediately makes you feel small.

Oscar’s reaction is immediate—his posture stiffens, his eyes darting away from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh… didn’t expect to see you here.

Her eyes flick between you and Oscar, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of you together. “It’s been a while,” she says, her tone smooth, easy. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”

You stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and the moment stretches painfully long. The familiarity between them is palpable, and a sinking feeling starts to form in your stomach.

“I’m just here for a bit,” Oscar replies, his voice suddenly lacking the warmth it had moments ago. He seems uncomfortable—like he’s trying to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.

The woman shifts her gaze to you, her smile widening just enough to make you feel scrutinized. “And who’s this?” she asks, as if you’re a new accessory she’s appraising.

You offer a small, polite smile, though your chest feels tight. “I’m—”

“Just a friend,” Oscar cuts in quickly, his voice sharp and clipped.

The words hang in the air, and your breath catches. You look at him, confused, hurt—but he won’t meet your gaze. The woman gives a small, almost amused laugh before waving it off.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says with a teasing tone, her eyes lingering on Oscar for just a second too long. “Catch you later, Piastri.”

With that, she walks away, her footsteps light on the sand, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. The sound of the waves seems distant now, like you’re underwater, and the weight of what Oscar just said presses heavily on your chest.

Just a friend.

You force yourself to swallow the lump forming in your throat, pretending the words didn’t sting as much as they did. “Who was that?” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Oscar sighs, his hand dropping to his side. “No one important,” he says, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He turns to look at you, but there’s something distant in his eyes—something guarded that wasn’t there before.

You nod slowly, feeling a pang of disappointment settle deep in your chest. The connection you thought you were building suddenly feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

For the rest of the walk along the beach, neither of you says much. The easy conversation, the subtle glances—all of it feels like it’s gone. Replaced by a silence that only grows heavier with each step.

You’re quiet when you get home, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that happened at the beach. You try to shake it off, but the look in Oscar’s eyes, the tension between him and Ellie—it’s all you can think about.

Your grandfather is in the sitting room when you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you.

“How was the date?” he asks, his voice gentle.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to tell him it was fine, that everything’s okay—but you can’t lie. Not this time.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “don’t force people to like me.”

Your grandfather’s face falls, his brow furrowing in concern. He reaches out to you, but you pull away, the tears already starting to form.

“I just… I don’t want to be an obligation,” you say, your voice breaking. “I want someone to like me because they want to—not because they feel like they have to.”

That night, after you’ve retreated to your room, your grandfather makes a call. He doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t let on that he’s taken matters into his own hands. When Oscar picks up, he’s met with your grandfather’s firm voice.

“I’m sending the two of you to the ranch in Texas,” your grandfather says. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

Oscar tries to protest, but your grandfather won’t hear it. “You’ll go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You owe her that much.”

You sat in the plush leather seat of your grandfather’s private jet, the tension between you and Oscar thick and palpable. Neither of you had spoken much since the beach incident, and you weren’t sure how you felt about being sent off to Texas together. The thought of spending more time with him, especially after everything that had happened, made your stomach churn.

Oscar sat across from you, his eyes flickering up occasionally, as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but each time, the words seemed to die in his throat. You focused on the window instead, watching the runway lights blur as the plane took off.

“I know you’re upset,” Oscar finally said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet yet steady. “I want to explain, but I don’t think words are enough right now.”

You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand why he had been so distant, but another part of you didn’t care anymore. The truth was, you felt used—like you were just another part of the game, just another person he didn’t really care about.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll go on this trip, but when we get back to London, we tell my grandfather that it didn’t work out. And Oscar…” You hesitated, the weight of your next words crushing you. “Please don’t let anyone know that I was the other woman.”

Oscar’s face twisted, regret filling his expression. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

You nodded, turning away from him. The rest of the flight passed in heavy silence.

When you arrived in Texas, the sprawling estate greeted you with its endless fields and the familiar scent of wildflowers. Despite the awkwardness between you and Oscar, the comfort of being home, away from the pressures of your world, settled over you. As soon as you were alone, you made your way to the garden.

The garden had always been your escape—a place where you could get lost in the rhythm of tending to the plants. As you knelt in the dirt, your fingers delicately brushing over the leaves of the roses, you found solace in the simplicity of the task. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sun was starting to dip low in the sky when you finally stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar had been watching from a distance. He stayed near the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, watching as you moved gracefully through the rows of flowers, completely absorbed in your work. There was something peaceful about the way you lost yourself here—so different from the world of fast cars and expectations.

He leaned back against the tree, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure how he’d fix this—how he could make things right after everything he had done. Watching you, Oscar realized how much he had hurt you, and it wasn’t just the beach incident that weighed on him. It was everything—the emotional distance, the Ellie situation, the lies he had told himself.

But for now, he kept his distance, unsure of how to approach you or if you’d even want him to. You, lost in your world of flowers and dirt, were completely unaware of his gaze.

As the night crept in, you finally left the garden, retreating back inside the house. Oscar stayed behind, his thoughts heavy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about his career, his public image, or what other people wanted from him. He was thinking about you.

The morning sun was bright as you headed to the stables, hoping a horseback ride might clear your head. Despite still being upset with Oscar, you welcomed the chance to be alone in the fresh air.

As you prepared your horse, Oscar approached, looking out of place. He glanced around nervously and gave you a hesitant smile.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”

You barely glanced at him, focusing on securing your saddle. “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.”

Oscar tried to act composed, though his eyes darted nervously at the horses. He awkwardly mounted his steed with the help of a stable hand, gripping the reins as if they were a lifeline.

As you led the way onto the trail, your horse trotting confidently, Oscar’s horse lagged behind, its rider stiff and uncertain. You could hear him muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

“So, what’s it like riding horses?” Oscar called out, his voice a bit too loud, trying to mask his fear.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” you replied curtly, keeping your distance both physically and emotionally. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, especially not with Oscar, given the recent tension.

The trail wound through picturesque fields, and as the minutes passed, Oscar’s discomfort was evident. His horse seemed to be enjoying itself a little too much, leading to a few unplanned jolts that made Oscar clutch the reins tightly.

At one point, his horse decided to trot faster, and Oscar’s face turned pale as he tried to control it. “I think it’s going to bolt!” he shouted, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking.

You slowed your horse, turning to watch with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Just breathe and let the horse do the work. It’s not going to run off.”

Oscar managed to regain some control, though he looked more like he was bracing for a bumpy ride than enjoying it. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to laugh off his fear. “You make it look so effortless.”

You remained distant, nodding but not engaging further. “Just keep your hands steady and trust the horse.”

By the time you returned to the stables, Oscar dismounted with an audible sigh of relief. His face was flushed, but there was a small smile of accomplishment as he looked at you. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I think I’ll stick to less adventurous activities in the future.”

You gave a noncommittal nod, barely meeting his eyes. “You did alright. Maybe next time, we’ll try something less… unpredictable.”

Finally, the time came to return to London. The flight was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When you arrived back at your grandfather’s estate, you both faced him, sitting in his study.

“We talked,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “And we’ve decided that it’s best if we just remain friends.”

Your grandfather’s gaze shifted between you and Oscar, disappointment and concern etched on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding firmly. “It’s the best decision for both of us.”

Oscar added, “I appreciate everything your grandfather’s done for me, but I agree. We should just be friends.”

Your grandfather sighed, looking at Oscar with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “Very well. I’ll respect your decision.”

As you and Oscar left the study, you found yourself rushing toward your room, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.

You weren’t sure why you were crying, maybe it’s because you genuinely felt something with him or you thought you did.

Oscar Piastri was making you go crazy.

Beachy’s notes🐚: Mama is a lil rusty😞

[juniperdugong]

Super Weird - Vernon

WC: 867 || Genre: Fluff || CW: Suggested bullying (?)/ reader being an outcast || Vernon x GN!reader (established relationship)

A/N: For all my weirdos because I'm a weirdo and Vernon is too, ain't no denying it, just a buncha freaks in masks huh?

"Do you think I'm weird?"

Vernon looks at you, eyes squinting in confusion and his expression shifting into a scowl seeing that you're completely serious, "Whaf dar haw ah yo tarking abo-?" (What the hell are you talking about?)

His mouth is filled with the last and biggest spoonful of food that you knew you couldn't finish so - as the routine goes - you gave it to Vernon. He furiously chews at a pace that you know probably isn't safe and with a large and rather painful-looking gulp his mouth is free of obstructions. "What did you just say?" his tone sounds more lightly confused but his face gives quiet anger more than anything.

"Hansol you heard me. Do you think I'm weird?" You speak very monotonously, a trait the two of you shared.

"Of course you're weird." He says it like it's a matter of fact. His expression completely drops into the deadpan face you're used to. He ignores how perplexed you look as he brings the dishes to the sink.

"And you're okay with that?" You ask out of genuine curiosity, you know that most people would outcast someone they think is weird - it's something you've often experienced at school and work. So if he thought you were strange then why would he stick around?

"Why wouldn't I be?" He looks up at you almost accusatorily as he scrubbed the dishes and put them to dry.

"I mean- It doesn't bother you at all that I'm abnormal or weird? I know people talk about how I sound or that I'm too... strange and stuff. It isn't lost on me but if you also know that then why do you stick around?" You let your words spill just wanting to get down to the root of the issue while escaping the heavy-handed approach of blurting out "Why would you want to be with someone you find weird?".

"Nope." That was his reply. His. Entire. Answer. Just "Nope." and then he picked his phone up from the table and went to sit in the living room. You know he saw your face as it contorted into even more confusion and bafflement but he ignored it!

You did the only sensible thing, of course, and immediately trailed him and sat right next to him, snatching his phone out of his hand as he opened up a game. You had his attention and yet he seemed confused? As if he wasn't the one who completely dodged your questioning before.

"Yes?"

"You have nothing else to say?"

He gave himself a moment to think, you thought for a millisecond that perhaps he's finally found a more appropriate answer, "Nope."

"Huh?" You shake your head completely bewildered. "You know I'm weird and you still want to be with me, why is that?"

"It's probably because I love you or something weird like that-" He turns to you as a blush sets in. Chuckling he gives a small pinch to your cheeks, fighting the cuteness aggression he feels, "Don't think about it too much though, that's a fact you should already know about by now... I would hope you know about by now..." He tilts his head as he says that last part as if questioning if you really did know about his love after all this time.

Vernon's love for you was something you never questioned, even though he wasn't exactly the best at physically expressing it he always made sure to assure you through words, actions, or gifts. It was a bit odd honestly, like he had some sort of psychic powers to know what your needs are. Maybe...

"I think you're the weird one actually-" you start thinking out loud.

"Yeah? Maybe."

"And you accept that, Han?"

"Mhm." His answers are blunt and to the point, you have to wonder if he's just saying this to satisfy your curiosity- "I'm not just saying that by the way. I know that I'm weird, babe."

"You a wizard?" He squints as he looks at you, waiting for clarification, "You read my mind like one."

"Nope, I'm just a really good boyfriend I think." He relaxes into the couch, pulling you onto his lap and retrieving his phone from your grasp.

"So we're both just weird and we both just have to accept that?"

"Looks like it, babe."

"huh..." You ponder on it for a moment as your eyes look around your shared apartment. Shelves filled with knick-knacks of yours, pillows in the shape of cartoon characters, anime on the TV currently... "Yeah, okay." You retract your worry as quick as it came, it was an absurd thought that you let yourself get caught up in any way. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulder as you watch him play his game.

"Hansol?"

"What?"

"Why am I seeing a half-naked man on your screen right now?"

"That is my current boyfriend, Sylus."

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, he meets your nebulous expression with a peck on the lips. "You are weird, Han."

"I know baby. It's honestly weirder that you heard me say all of that and that's your only reaction."

A/N: Hahaha totally not something to sate you guys as I continue working on the Cheol angst fic... (Please help me I'm 3000 words in and still haven't gotten through half of my bullet points) Tbf I did say it was gonna be long though... First Vernon fic though! Plus comeback around the corner, yeah let's all talk about all the whiplash that's been going on in Caratland rn...

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

[d1g1tal-d1ary]

Part 2 of my addicted!Simon headcanon!!

Price always had a lot going on; being the Captain of a Task Force demanded a lot of time, energy and most of all - nerves.

So when one of the nurses on base had pulled him aside and said that she suspected someone stealing Morphine, all he did was nod and call in a meeting. Luckily, everyone had obliged to giving him a urine sample to let it be tested for drugs.

What no one seemed to notice was Simon's eyes staring into nothingness as all he did was pray that his heavy heart wouldn't give his covers away. His head was spinning because he searched for a way out of this - there had to be a way he didn't have to take it. And suddenly his mind started to wander off to you; the only one who'd met him without knowing he was Ghost. The only one who knew he had a problem - a fucking big one right now - and the only one who understood him was you.

One hand tightly gripping the little cup, the other one knocking loudly on your door. He didn't hesitate when the door opened; he simply pushed it open and walked into your tiny apartment.

"Simon?" you asked with a frown plastered on your face. You hadn't expected him - of course you hadn't so all you were wearing was one of your cute pyjamas you avoided to wear around him normally. "Is everything okay?"

"I messed up," was all that came across his lips with a heavy sigh. When his gaze met yours, all he could do was put the cup on your kitchen table and point at it. "I need your help."

You stepped closer and eyed the little cup and when you realized what exactly he'd asked you to do, you shook your head. "No, I'm not helping you fake a drugtest."

"Please, luvie," his eyes studied your face - he reduced the distance between you two quickly and took your face into his rough and calloused hands. "I'll never ask anythin' of you ever again. Just let me keep my job, fuck- it's the only thing that's been keeping me sane all this time."

Of course your heart sank when you heard his pleading and even more so when you looked up at him and you could see the desperation in his blue eyes. After moments had passed - which felt like years for Simon - you'd finally nodded and given in to him.

"I knew you'd understand," he whispered and pecked your lips before letting you go take the drugtest.

You'd never felt so dirty in your life. Pissing into a little cup while Simon waited impatiently outside the bathroom made you feel greedy and so, so worthless. But if you were being honest; there was nothing you wouldn't do for Simon. Of course you weren't supporting his addiction - that was the main reason you had broken up, after all. But he was your Simon. The closest you'll ever get to finding unconditional love.

A few days after Simon had given the sample to Price - he'd been the last to hand it over - the test results finally came. And Price would never doubt his team; they'd done everything together for years at this point, but he could also imagine one of his soldiers having an addiction as it was nothing new.

To his surprise and relief, all the test results came back negative. But looking at Simon's results made him frown - or more so, all he could do was huff at the result.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Simon had stepped into Price's office; not even thinking that it could have anything to do with the drugtest as he knew you hadn't taken any.

Price's eyes never left Simon's form. He watched him intensly as he took the seat across from Price's desk. "Yeah, well, the results came back and since you're L.T., I thought you'd deserve to know before everyone else."

Simon hummed in response while leaning back, silently thanking you again.

"Luckily, everyone's negative," Price announced which made Simon even more relaxed. "But.. The Lab was a bit confused and thought something went wrong as Simon Riley's clearly a male name."

"Captain, I don't think I can follow you," Simon had frowned under his balaclava.

Price barked a bitter laugh as he looked at the Lieutnant in front of him. "They found the hormone Beta-hCG in your piss. You wanna know what that means?"

All Simon could do was nod; unaware of what's to come.

"The fuckin' piss is from someone who's pregnant," Price lowly said. "So now we not only know this wasn't your piss, but I think you two would've been smart enough to know we‘d find out. So, Riley, should I say congratultions?"

Y‘all wanna read part 3???!!! 🙏😭

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,252 (oof, this one got long!) Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: largely unspecified (but Negan does refer to reader as doll and darling which could be considered more feminine terms of endearment) Warnings: language haha, frightening scenarios, references to past violence Summary: Months have now passed since Y/N began taking on Negan as a "project" and the reader suggests an even longer run outside the walls. A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on the Negan Master List. Previous Part here! “It’s been months,” you said. “There hasn’t been a single time that I’ve felt unsafe, and both of you know I never let my guard down.”

Daryl was leaning up against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was serious but largely unreadable. Michonne leaned forward on the table, considering your words.

“We need to think long-term here. Are we just going to keep him locked up forever? Or is there some version of this where he gets out and either integrates as much as possible or—or goes on his way?”

Michonne sighed and shook her head. “I’m not sure any of us have the answer to that yet,” she said.

“I know. I still don’t,” you said. “I’m not sure what the future looks like for him, but I know we have to do more than just letting him out to pick tomatoes every once in a while. So, that’s what I’m doing. And with you two stuck here dealing with the wall and the kids—and the pantry and medical supplies starting to run low, well… let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

Daryl sighed and straightened up. “I ain’t gonna say I like it, but I trust ya and I’ve seen your judgment play out too many times to doubt it. If ya think it’ll be alrigh’, then—well, ‘m good with it. But ya gotta show us exactly where you’ll be and when to expect ya back in case we need to come lookin’.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll mark it all on the map. We should be able to make it out and back in a single long day. Leave early. Get back late.”

“And no weapons for him unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Michonne emphasized.

“Of course,” you agreed.

“Alright,” Michonne nodded. “When will you go?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I’ll get everything ready today.”

“I’ll walk ya out,” Daryl drawled, watching as you grabbed your bag and shouldered it. “Listen—” he started.

You looked over at him and smiled, already knowing you were about to get a worried Daryl Dixon lecture. “Mhm?” you prompted him.

“The hell are ya smirkin’ about?” he growled, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” you laughed. “Go ahead.”

“Well—if somethin’ happens out there… if it comes down to you or him…” he trailed off.

Your brow furrowed deeply now to match his. “It won’t,” you said seriously.

He shifted anxiously. “But if it does…”

“Daryl. It’s not going to,” you insisted.

He relented and nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay. C’mere.” He pulled you into a hug and you smiled as he folded you up against him. “I just want ya to be safe, is all.” “I know. I will,” you agreed.

He nodded, pulling back. “Wish I could go with ya… I’d feel better about it.”

“I know. But it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re shitting me, right?” Negan said, his breakfast still in his hand, not a single bite taken.

You stared at him and then let out a dry laugh. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” you said.

“Well, shit. I mean… a real scavenging trip? That’s what you’re saying?” Negan said. He ran a hand back through his hair and stood, pacing a tight circle in his cell. “Who else is going?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why? Someone specific you want me to invite? Want me to ask your old pal Gabriel? Or wait—Eugene?”

He laughed but looked vaguely shocked. “Well, I’m sorry but I’m just—a little fuckin’ surprised, doll.” You’d eased some on scolding Negan for the pet names over the last few weeks and generally just ignored them now unless it was something really egregious. (You’d nearly hit him for calling you ‘princess’ one day, so he had at least not tried that again.) He seemed to enjoy taking full advantage of you turning a deaf ear to them now. “Just you and me? Out there?” he clarified.

“You and I have already been out there alone how many times, hmm? I don’t see why this should be any different,” you said, digging around in your pack.

“Well, it’s farther. I mean, farther for you to get help if—”

You straightened up and fixed a skeptical gaze on him. “If what? If you suddenly decide to attempt to murder me? Attack me? Steal the car and leave me out there? I’ll still be armed and you won’t. Besides, I’ve been through more shit out there than—”

He laughed again. “I was just gonna say in case any number of bad fuckin’ things happens out there. And we both know that they do.”

“Yeah. You used to be one of those bad things, remember?” you shot back quickly. He sighed at your deflection and you couldn’t help but laughing. “I am having to sell this harder to you than I did to Michonne and Daryl. What is going on? What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried! Although, it would be fuckin’ nice to have something to defend myself with in case of the dead or unexpected assholes…”

“ ‘Unexpected Assholes’?” you repeated. “What is that, your one man play?” you quipped. “Let me guess—you’ll be playing yourself.”

Negan couldn’t resist a hearty laugh at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s good. You’re fuckin’ hilarious as usual, doll.” But he looked serious again the next moment. “Anyway, about me having some way to defend myself…”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” you said lazily. “I’ll let you have, like, a stick if you want,” you smirked. He only stared back at you. “I told you that I’ll protect you! You think I’m just gonna let a walker wander up and bite you?” There was a thick silence for a moment where he just stared back at you.

“I’m not worried about one walker. I’m worried about all the random, rogue shit that can happen out there.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust me! Do you not want to go or what?” you pressed him, perplexed at his reaction.

He paused, drew in a deep breath, and let it out. Then that damn smirk showed back up on his face, sending his hazel eyes sparkling. “Are you asking if I want to go spend some quality time alone with you? Just the two of us? No one to interrupt… Completely at your mercy for whatever you may decide to do with me… or to me…”

You rolled your eyes, catching onto his tone immediately. “That could include killing you,” you cautioned him, eliciting a low laugh from him. You hated that the deep gravel of it gave you goosebumps. You did your best to ignore it.

“I don’t know… I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get away with me where nobody can easily interrupt us,” Negan said. “I mean, shit. No need hide your true intentions from me,” he grinned. “I am absolutely 110% on board with that. Use me all you want, doll,” he grinned, now gripping the bars of his cell door. “God, I’d love to be fuckin’ used by you.”

You crossed your arms and fixed a stern look on him, hoping that your face wasn’t flushing bright red. You cleared your throat. “Sounds more like wishful thinking on your part. It’s a scavenging run, Negan, not a fucking romantic getaway,” you said.

“Are you sure you said that right? I think you meant romantic fucking getaway. Emphasis on the—”

“Negan! Stop! I will cancel this whole thing! Jesus Christ!”

That shit-eating grin was still on his face and he laughed again, thoroughly pleased with himself. “Alright, alright. I’m done. I think…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “Scavenging. Run.” you repeated.

“Yeah, we’ll see, doll. We’ll see. So, where are we going exactly?”

You forged ahead, ignoring his last comments in favor of moving on. “There are some old houses and other structures we’ve only ever done a cursory search of. Probably not going to make a huge score but there’s always something left behind, something hidden. But who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky,” you said.

“Fuck me, I’d love to get lucky…” he laughed again.

“Negan!” you exclaimed again.

“Alright! I’m sorry,” he chuckled.

“So, are you in?” you asked, slightly exasperated.

The two of you were separated by only the iron bars and a small buffer of space, hardly a foot. He was still smiling at you and you hated that the thought that he was handsome flickered through your mind. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought it—but the thought always surprised you, like it came from somewhere outside of yourself, not by your conjuration alone. “Fuck yes, I’m in,” he answered, interrupting your thoughts.

“You promise to listen to everything I say? If I tell you to run, if I tell you to hide—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise,” he said, smiling. “If I don’t, you’ll shoot me in the fuckin’ knee or some shit. Can we skip the pep talk?”

You gave him a stern look but unlocked his cell and tossed him the spare pack you’d brought. You dug into your own bag and handed him some supplies, including some outerwear. He tucked them into his bag and looked up at you expectantly. “Where to, warden?”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the tiniest smirk. “Car is right outside. Let’s get going. The sun is starting to come up and it could be a long day.”

“Great. Can I drive?” he quipped, shouldering his bag. You only shot him a look that made him laugh again, but he saw the slight curve at the corners of your mouth.

The drive to the crumbling ruins of the neighborhood was slow, but uneventful. The sun was up and filtering through the trees overhead as you and Negan climbed out and started toward the buildings. You were quiet, focused, and Negan couldn’t help admiring your efficiency and care as you went about your mission.

The two of you stopped at the edge of the crumbling street, concealed in some taller brush. The street was overgrown with weeds and lined with dilapidated houses. It was almost eerily quiet.

“Alright,” you breathed quietly. “We’ll go building by building, down one side and back up the other. Pay attention to signs of walkers or people,” you said softly, gripping the straps of your pack. “Follow my lead and stay close.”

“You got it,” Negan replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he followed alongside you toward the first house. “I gotta say, it is really uncomfortable being out here without a damn weapon. More so here than in the woods,” he commented, his eyes shifting around to study the other buildings, scrutinizing for a sign of movement. “I feel like I’m naked,” he said.

“I guarantee—” You paused to tap on the wall of the house the two of you were standing beside, listening for anything inside. “You’re not. If you were naked, I would not be this fuckin’ calm, Negan,” you said, half-distracted.

He chuckled and licked his bottom lip, smirking.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t think that sounded how you meant it to sound,” he laughed.

Your cheeks flushed. “Oh, shut up. You know what I meant!”

“Your brain is saying one thing but your lips are sayin’ another, darlin’,” he teased you.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the front door open, stepping cautiously inside. The smell was of mildew and stagnant air as you stepped inside. A heavy layer of dust and dirt coated everything; overturned furniture, books standing or tipped over on shelves, a stately chair still positioned in front of the fireplace. Somewhere deeper in the house, water was dripping. You had your gun out and started clearing the lower floors. Negan ghosted behind you.

You made for the staircase to check the upstairs when there was a soft thump overhead. Your eyes and Negan’s went to the ceiling.

“Alright… maybe someone is home after all,” he commented, giving you a concerned look.

“It’s gotta be a walker,” you said. “Maybe an animal.” You proceeded cautiously toward the staircase.

“Hey,” Negan said softly. “Be careful.”

You turned and looked at him for a long moment before you started up the stairs. He seemed genuinely on edge, worried. He stayed right on your heels as you climbed the steps, the muscle in his jaw tensed as his teeth clenched together.

You cleared two bedrooms and finally came to a closed door at the end of the hall. As the floor creaked under your boots, there was the sound of more movement behind the door. You reached for the door knob, gun ready in your other hand. You took a deep breath and quickly turned it shoving the door open and aiming the muzzle of your pistol inside.

An opossum let out an angry hiss and then scrambled up and out of a broken window. It had been rooting around in some debris on the floor. A huge sigh of relief escaped you and Negan watched your shoulders sag. You laughed a little as you turned to look back at Negan. He gave you a relieved look.

“I gotta be honest,” he said. “I fuckin’ hate this shit. I feel completely helpless without something to use if something bad happens. What am I supposed to do if you need help?”

You gave him a somewhat sympathetic look, thinking about how it would feel to be in his place—the unknown behind every locked door with no knife, no gun… completely vulnerable and reliant on someone who was essentially his jailor. “Well,” you said. “I have a feeling if something really did go wrong, you’d figure something out.”

He considered your words for a moment. “Yeah. I hope so.” He thought about what he would do. What if they ran into some bad men? Bad people? What would he really do if you were in danger? He didn’t have to think hard to know the answer. Anything. He’d do anything he needed to. The thought seemed to dig deep into the center of his chest and sit there, heavy. “So, now what? House is clear.”

You holstered your gun again. “Now, we search. See if there’s anything left. A lot of people hid things, right after. There’s always something left behind. You take the upstairs. I’ll go through the downstairs.”

Negan nodded his agreement and turned back to the trashed bathroom, the sound of your steps fading away down the staircase. He searched every room, every cabinet, every closet, under beds, under loose floorboards, but came away with nothing of interest except for half a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He headed downstairs where he could hear you rummaging around in the living room. “Hey,” he greeted you, stepping over the threshold. You were standing completely frozen now at the shelves, looking down at something. “Y/N?” he said again. You still didn’t seem to have heard him. He wandered closer. “Find something?”

You startled a little and turned to look at him, a picture frame in your hand. “Oh. No, not really. You?”

“Half a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I stuck it in my pack.” He nodded toward the frame. “What’s that?”

You looked down at it again. “It’s nothing. It’s just this—this family portrait. I wonder if they lived here—” you said thoughtfully. Your voice seemed to drift away a little. “Or what happened to them, you know? Did they make it? Were they ever safe again after the outbreak?”

Negan looked on with a thoughtful expression, his dark brows furrowed over his eyes. He nodded and moved closer to get a better view of the photo behind the cracked glass. He smiled at it, chuckling a little. “Hmm. Mom, Dad, and three kids. A perfect nuclear family,” he said.

“Looks like the 90s,” you laughed. “Check out the clothes.”

“Yeah, they probably went down to JCPenney to take advantage of the fancy photography studio,” Negan remarked. “Dad looks like an accountant, doesn’t he?”

“Mmm, I’m getting more of a bank manager vibe. Mom probably stayed at home when the kids were little and then goes back to work as a teacher once the youngest is in kindergarten,” you replied, now smiling a little too.

Negan ran a hand back through his hair thoughtfully and cocked his head. “You know—I was a teacher,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never really told anyone that since things went to shit. Kind of lessens the mystique,” he laughed dryly.

Your eyes snapped over to his face, one of your eyebrows arching gracefully with the question on your face. He laughed again. “Yeah, I know… hard to believe, right? How could such an asshole be a teacher?” he said.

A slight wince flickered across your face for a brief second at his words, as if you didn’t like the way he’d talked about himself. But that couldn’t be right… “What did you teach?”

“I was a high school P.E. teacher,” he said. “Coached some of the school teams too. Basketball. Football.”

“P.E.?” you repeated. “And you’re not even going to make a ‘physical education’ joke?” you teased him. “Wow. Are you feeling okay?”

He laughed lightly. “You beat me to it,” he said. He glanced back at the picture and sighed. “Should we get going? Lots of buildings to search,” he said.

You nodded and stared down at the picture for another moment.

“What’re you doing?” Negan asked, watching you take the back off the picture frame. You fumbled with the backing and then removed the family photo from the damaged frame.

“I just—feel like someone should remember them, you know?”

Negan’s gaze was fixed on you, flickering over your face. There was something so soft in it at that moment that you felt slightly unbalanced. You distracted yourself by bending to slip the photo into your pack. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said gently.

You deflected, laughing as you shouldered your pack again. “Oh, you’ve got no idea,” you said sarcastically, again ignoring the heat in your face. “Come on.”

The two of you went on, searching each home and several stores, working your way down the block and partway up the next. You’d managed some good finds, including a hidden cellar that clearly had belonged to a survivalist type (who had apparently “opted out” and his corpse still watched over the hidden entrance). You’d have to make a few trips to the car in order to get all the supplies and gear back, or otherwise figure out a way to get the car in through the overgrown side road. The two of you piled the finds in a safe place in one of the rooms on the main floor, stacking Rubbermaid tubs full of helpful items in neat piles.

“Fuck me,” Negan sighed, setting the last one on top. “Well, when you’re right, you’re fuckin’ right, doll. There’s always somethin’ left behind.”

You wiped at the sweat near your hairline. “Yeah,” you sighed. “Not bad.” You had a satisfied smile on your face. It felt good to do something concrete that would help people back home. You glanced out the window, assessing the light outside. It’d taken quite some time to get things moved up from the cellar and you wondered if you should keep searching the rest of the houses or call it a day. “I think it’s starting to get late,” you said, remarking mainly on the way the light already seemed like it was fading.

“Mmm,” Negan hummed, going to the front bay window and looking out. His eyes had been searching the street all day, vigilant, as if waiting for some psychos to suddenly burst out of one of the houses. But the only signs of inhabitation or squatting you’d found were clearly from long before, now covered in dust and debris or otherwise moldering in damp corners or on top of filthy mattresses. Now, as you were busy drinking from your canteen, Negan’s shifting suddenly stopped. “Hey, doll—I’m no meteorologist, but those clouds look like bad fuckin’ news.” It had been overcast all day, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that this was something else.

You capped your canteen and went to the front door, your brow now furrowed heavily to match his. You pulled the door open and peered at the sky. Ominous didn’t even begin to cover it. There was not a sniff of wind at the moment and the air seemed to hum with electricity. Negan appeared next to you in the doorway, squinting at the low and heavy sky.

“I’m pretty sure when the sky turns fuckin’ green, there’s some bad shit coming,” he said. He glanced over at you.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “Yeah. Yeah, green sky is… tornado weather. Fuck,” you muttered, glancing back at the pile of supplies.

“What do you want to do?” Negan asked.

You sighed, pushing a hand back through your hair. “Even if we head back to the car now, we probably can’t outrun that… the old highway is FUBAR in some places. It’s not like we can drive 60 mph all the way back to Alexandria. And that would mean leaving all these supplies here.” As if on cue, the complete stillness in the air broke as a rushing wind approached like a tidal wave, creaking and cracking in the trees and swirling dust and dried leaves across the open ground until it reached the two of you standing on the porch. Your hair lifted and blew back from your face.

“I’ll ask you again,” Negan said, speaking louder now over the roar of the wind, “what do you want to do?”

You hesitated, glancing from him back to the quickly approaching menacing clouds. The little light left was fading fast. “Fuck,” you muttered again. “I—I think we’re better off weathering it here than in a car out there,” you said.

“I definitely agree with that,” Negan said.

“Once the storm clears, maybe then we can try to get the car in here and load up the supplies and get home. We’ll be delayed a bit longer than expected but—I think it’s the best move. Hopefully, we’re just stuck a couple more hours.”

Negan nodded. “Alright. Where are we holing up? Because this shit is about to kick the fuck off,” he said, surveying the street again.

“Here is as good a place as any,” you said. “There’s a basement and almost all the windows are intact or boarded up. Come on. Let’s get inside.”

Negan followed you in and shut the door on the wind. Your eyes were already on him when he turned around again. He was trying to decode your expression but it was largely unreadable. He unshouldered his pack and set it on the floor, taking a seat on the stairs across from where you were now leaning up against the wall. The ambient light from outside was quickly waning and before long you could hear raindrops start to pound the roof. They increased in size and then seemed to be blowing across the roof in waves of water.

You could hear the huge cottonwood trees creaking and cracking in the wind. You tried to peer out through the boarded slats over the window to see if they were dropping branches but it was too dark. Behind you, Negan pulled out a flashlight from his pack and clicked it on. It had grown extremely dark with the heavy storm clouds gathering and unleashing the torrents of rain. You were still standing right by the window, looking out, when he spoke again.

“Hey, maybe we should move away from the windows, doll,” Negan said, worried. He didn’t like how close you were standing to all that glass, even if it was mostly boarded over. His voice was deep and resonant in the space between you with just the raging background noise outside.

“Yeah. Maybe,” you said. You bent to grab your pack when you suddenly heard a loud thud against the side of the house. You straightened up, your eyes widening. Negan had heard it too, his eyes were narrowed, ears strained, listening. It was difficult to hear anything over the storm.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice breathy. “Some debris blowing against the house?” you asked.

Negan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, standing from his place on the steps and going to the doorway of the room the sound had seemed to come from. The roaring storm seemed to reach new extremes. The wind sounded like a train bearing down on the little dilapidated structure the two of you were sheltering in. Rain and hail lashed the siding and the roof. There was another thud from outside, this time on the window.

“There. Again,” you said, anxiously pacing toward Negan to stare into the room. His flashlight was still on. Another thud, and then another. You squinted, trying to distinguish anything through the boarded windows but it was too dark. Then, a flash of lightning shot the sky outside with blinding white and you couldn’t help the soft gasp that left you at what it illuminated.

“What?” Negan asked urgently.

You couldn’t speak. You just reached for the flashlight. Negan looked down as your hand landed on top of his. He could feel you trembling slightly and for a moment he was so shocked by your touch that he didn’t understand what you were doing. With your gentle grip, you directed the yellow beam of the light slowly to the window. As it came to rest between two of the boards and shone through the glass, Negan registered that there were walkers clawing to get in, rotting faces pressed to the glass, bloody fingertips, snapping teeth. Dozens. “Ho-ly fuck!” he exclaimed, jerking the flashlight off the window and quickly shutting it off. You and Negan stood in the dark for a moment, neither of you moving, now keenly aware of the pounding noise and dull thuds on the exterior of the house, cutting through the wind and rain. Were you imagining it or was the pounding increasing, getting louder? More frequent? Negan could hear your breath beside him in the dark. “Well, that shit was straight out of a fuckin’ horror movie,” he remarked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “Where the fuck did they come from? It sounds like we’re surrounded.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Seems like they rolled in with the storm.”

“Maybe they can feel the barometric pressure changes or something. It’s almost like a migration,” you commented, feeling your heart rate and breathing finally start to slow down after the shock of discovering the herd.

Negan chuckled beside you and you heard him shift. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Eugene?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Okay… so, now we just have the storm of the century and a fucking herd to deal with. Great. Okay… let’s think…”

Negan finally clicked his flashlight on again but kept it pointed at the floor. “This place seems sturdy but maybe we should barricade ourselves better.”

You glanced toward the basement where you’d discovered the hidden cellar. Your eyes next drifted toward the stack of supplies. “Basement is pretty much ready to barricade thanks to that dead survivalist guy, but if they do break in we could be trapped down there for fuck-knows how long.”

“Not sure we have any better options. We don’t want to be upstairs either. We’re sure as shit not going out on the roof in this if they get in and if there is a fucking tornado and we're on the top floor—” Negan broke off.

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding. You dug into your own pack and pulled out a headlamp, quickly turning it on dimly. “Grab some of these. They have food and medical supplies, some other gear and odds and ends,” you said, grabbing one of the many Rubbermaid containers and heading toward the stairs down to the basement.

“Man, I’m so glad we carried all this shit up here,” Negan joked, picking up a stack of two big containers.

“Sorry. Next time I’ll consult my crystal ball,” you quipped, but right then there was the sound of shattering glass and the storm and the growling got slightly louder. One of the windows in the next room had broken. Negan could see hands and fingers reaching in around the boards.

“Let’s go. Downstairs,” he urged you, his voice intense and thick with concern.

You started down, but shot back at him over your shoulder. “Aren’t I the one in charge here?”

“I don’t see you disagreeing with that idea,” Negan said, setting his containers down beside yours. “Stay here. I’ll go grab a couple more boxes,” he said.

“Whoa. Me stay here? What is this? You don’t even have a weapon!” you argued.

He gave you an exasperated look. “Fine. Then by all means, come with me, darlin’!” He turned and rushed back up the stairs and you had to hurry after him, one hand on your knife in its sheath.

“Negan,” you snapped at him in a low voice as you rounded the doorway back onto the main floor. But he wasn’t by the supplies. You glanced around and could see the dim glow of his light in the next room, the one where the walkers had broken a window. Rain and the occasional hailstone were puddling under the window among the shards of glass. “What the fuck?” You nearly collided with each other when he turned around and started back toward the door. “What are you doing?! Put that down!” you growled.

He had an iron fireplace poker in his hand. That’s what he’d been doing in this room, grabbing it from the set of fireplace tools. “Don’t you think this qualifies as kind of a capital “E” emergency?” he argued.

You stared at him, intense, your chest heaving, and to your annoyance, he smiled at you.

“Goddamn. You look fuckin’ hot as shit when you’re pissed off! I mean, you’re always hot but ho-ly shit! I'm scared and suddenly all tingly downtown!”

Your hand went purposefully to your knife again and you stared him down. “I said. Put it. The fuck. Down.”

“Doll, just hear me out—”

“Negan.”

Another crack and the sound of shattering glass behind him and you saw more arms reaching through between the boards of another window. “Okay, we don’t have time for this right now. You can stab me or whatever downstairs,” he said. He breezed past you and grabbed a couple more boxes of supplies. You had no choice but to begrudgingly follow after him.

He turned, straightening up as he heard your boots hitting the bottom steps, and he opened his mouth to say something, but you were already on him before he could get even a syllable out.

You kicked him hard on the inside of one of his thighs and he dropped sideways onto his knee. The poker dropped from his hand and rang out on the cement floor. You kicked it away and it slid into the far wall with a harsh scraping sound. Your knife was unsheathed and pointed at the base of his throat before he knew what was happening. To your amazement, once he recovered from his pained grimaces, he fucking smiled again.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. When I brought you out here, you said you would listen to every fucking thing I told you to do. This is your one single second chance. Next time you fuck up, it’ll be my knife going into your thigh instead of my boot. Got it?”

He gulped, still on one knee at the point of your knife and still, to your annoyance, vaguely smiling. “Oh, I got it,” he responded, his eyebrows lifting.

“Good,” you said, backing off and letting him stand up. “Now, go pick up the fucking poker. I’m gonna lock up the door…”

“Wait‚ what?” Negan laughed, still rubbing at his leg where you’d kicked him. “After all that, you’re letting me have it?”

“Yes,” you said. “This does roughly qualify as an emergency. Or at least, the border of one. But those kinds of decisions? They’re not yours to make, Negan. You’re not the one in charge here.”

He looked both stunned and amused. “That is becoming more and more clear every fuckin’ day,” he said softly, looking at you with some expression you couldn’t completely discern.

You gave him a perplexed look and then headed up the stairs to seal up the door. There were heavy brackets on the back of the reinforced door (thank you, dead survivalist man) and you spotted a thick board leaning up against the railing. Once you’d closed and locked it, you heaved up the heavy wooden slat and dropped it into place in the brackets, adding extra security in case the walkers did get inside and try to push through. As you removed your hand hastily to head back downstairs, a jagged corner on one of the metal brackets sliced into your palm. You jerked it back and stared as a long crimson gash began to leak fat drops of blood onto the steps below you. You pulled in a hiss of breath through your teeth. “Great,” you sighed, cradling it in the other hand and trotting back down. Overhead, you could hear the storm still raging, but as a low hum now.

Negan stood up from his seat on one of the containers of supplies as soon as he saw you. A concerning amount of shockingly red blood was dripping off your hand and onto the floor. “What happened?” he asked, moving closer as you attempted to dig into your pack with your other hand, blood now running down your forearm. “Jesus, let me help you!” He grabbed your pack away and dug around inside until he found a small kit with spare bits of cloth for bandaging, some gauze pads, and a few other assorted odds and ends for first aid. “Wait, I’ve got that alcohol in my pack. We should clean it up first.”

“It’ll be fine,” you argued, pulling off your headlamp and watching as Negan clicked on a lantern he’d found in one of the boxes.

“Would you let me help you with this at least? Can I? Please? I’m asking permission now,” he joked, shooting you a goading expression.

You cocked your head at him and tried to look annoyed, but you conceded, taking a seat on a plastic container across from him.

Negan dug out the alcohol and poured a generous amount out onto your palm. You gritted your teeth together at the burn and winced. “Sorry,” he said, pressing a gauze pad down over it, holding it gently on his own hand now. “But better than an infection, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, feeling strangely on edge with your hand in his.

Negan used some of the long, clean strips of cloth to bandage it up and hold the gauze in place, tying it securely but gently before relinquishing his hold on you. “Should have the doc take a look at that when we get back,” he said. “Pretty deep. Might need some stitches on that one.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” you said, finally sighing as you suddenly realized how tired you were. Now that you felt more secure and safe, a strange thing with Negan sitting a mere foot away from you with no dividing bars between, the adrenaline had run out. Exhaustion was starting to set in. You took stock of the space. Your eyes wandered from the door into the hidden cellar where you’d found most of the supplies, back to the corpse of the survivalist in the far corner, over to the boxes next to Negan.

He was putting the first aid stuff back into your pack when his fingers nudged something and he paused; a thick stack of glossy photos. He pulled them out, curious. On top was the first one, the one in the very first house that the two of you had talked about, but there were more along with it now—many more. He flipped through a couple until you noticed and shifted where you were sitting. His hazel eyes lifted up to your face. “These are all from today?” he asked.

You nodded and tried to clear the sudden lump in your throat.

“You kept them? All of them?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He sighed, shaking his head vaguely, and thumbed through more; families on vacations, some guy holding a big fish, a young couple smiling in front of the Statue of Liberty, babies and kids and dogs and cats, an elderly couple posing in front of a studio background.

Your voice suddenly cut into him. “Did you ever stop to think that every person you put under your bat, they probably had photos like this? Were in photos like this?” you said suddenly. A particularly loud rumble of thunder boomed and rolled, as if on cue. Your eyes, clear and steady and striking even in the low glow of the lantern, felt like they were seeing straight into his core.

He frowned. The lines on his face seemed to become more pronounced, and he almost cringed. “No,” he answered honestly, the gravel in his voice heavy and gritty. “I didn’t think about it at all, most of the time. I think that was a lot of what I was doing. Not thinking. I know that's a shit fuckin' excuse. It's not an excuse... but I didn’t—want to think about the hard stuff.”

You were curious, interested, and felt that same vulnerability he seemed to be giving you more and more rolling off him in waves. “Like what?”

He gave you a sad smile. You could hear the wind whistling above you and the pounding of the rain. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

But now you were the one to back away, ducking your head, avoiding his eyes. Negan saw that there was hurt there, deep hurt. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” you murmured, fiddling with the bandage on your palm. “I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Negan replied, “you don’t owe me a damn thing. But can I tell you somethin’, doll?” He hesitated for a moment. “I—I like you. You kicked the shit out of me and held a knife to my throat about ten minutes ago and I still really like you. Genuinely. As a person, as a badass, as a—”

“Negan—” you interrupted him.

“If I had to be trapped in a basement with a corpse, a tornado and herd outside, I can’t think of another person I’d rather be stuck with,” he said.

“Negan—” you tried again.

“No, listen to me. I’m trying to tell you—”

“You don’t like me, okay? You just feel that way because I’m the only person who really talks to you, who spends time with you, who brings you your meals, and looks after some fraction of your well-being. It’s like—it’s like trauma bonding, okay? That’s all it is.”

“No. It’s not just that. See Gabe was doin’ all that same shit and I still didn’t fuckin’ like him… I mean, not as much as I like you.”

As usual, when what you were feeling was becoming overwhelming, too many thoughts, too many emotions, you deflected with humor. “I’m cuter than Gabriel.”

Negan laughed and this time the sound was warm and almost comforting. “Yeah. No argument there…”

You allowed yourself a half-smile and then sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fuck, I’m tired. What a long fucking day…”

“There are those sleeping bags in one of these boxes I think,” Negan said, starting to pull at the lids.

You laughed. “I can’t sleep,” you said.

“Why not?”

“Besides the insane storm outside and the horde? Uhh… I don’t know, you?” you offered, your tone a little sardonic.

But Negan’s face was perfectly serious. “The storm and the horde—can’t do shit about those companions and I agree that they are crappy house guests, but they’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere soon from what I can hear. That’s not changing whether you’re asleep or awake. As for me—” he tilted his head and gave you an appraising look, “I do not want to hurt you. And I won’t. And I’m not running away with the dickhole party outside so, you may as well catch some shut-eye. I’ll keep watch.”

You considered him for a long moment but finally shook your head. “No. No, I can’t sleep now…”

Negan sighed and rested the fireplace poker across his knees. “Well, then I’d say it’s going to be a long night… Got any ideas about how to pass the time?”

The mischievous sparkle came back into his eyes and you shot him a stern look that was apparently not enough of a deterrent. “Don’t—”

“We still do have those sleeping bags. I can think of some activities for a makeshift bed that don’t involve actual sleep.”

“Negan, there’s literally a corpse in the corner and a horde outside and that’s where your mind goes?”

He laughed. “Can you blame me? I’ve been in jail for, how long now? Five, six years? And trust me, Gabey Baby wasn’t giving me any action.” He paused at the look on your face, laughing again. “Come on, doll. I’m just kidding. Though it would help pass the time, you deserve far better than a sleeping bag on a dirty basement floor.”

“With a dead guy watching,” you added.

“With a dead guy watching,” he repeated, scratching absently at the stubble on his face. “That is pretty fuckin’ metal though,” he smirked.

“Negan, saying that I deserve better than that is really saying nothing. Anyone deserves better than that,” you sighed, standing up and pacing. “So yeah. I’d say it’s going to be a long night.”

[maidflowery]

Good Morning, Have a Nice Day

Aventurine x Reader

You told your boyfriend, Aventurine, to wake you up early the next morning. But little did you know...

"-up. Wake up, Sunshine."

In your slumber, you faintly heard a voice. The tone was cheerful, almost rivaling the birds chirping outside the window.

"Mm..."

Is it morning already...?

"Oh, the Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up. Hey, don't go back to sleep."

The voice spoke, as laid-back as ever, as if trying to lull you back to sleep.

But... Why didn't I hear any alarm...?

"If you don't wake up by the count of three, I'll kiss you. One... Two..."

"What time is-GAH!!"

When you opened your eyes, Aventurine's dashing face was hovering a few inches away from you. It was apparent that he'd been watching you the whole time.

Close! Too close!

"Your response to your boyfriend's gentle wake up call is to scream to his face...?"

He sulked, but not for long. Soon, he was smiling from ear to ear again. Was the sight of you waking up that fantastical?

"Good morning~ if you sleep again, the counter will pick up from where it left off."

"...More importantly, what time is it right now?"

Seeing how bright the sun was shining outside the window only gave you bad feelings.

Pretty sure you'd asked him to wake you up at 6 AM. You even set an alarm at 5 AM. After all, your class started at 8 AM.

Aventurine looked slightly dejected for a moment, before answering.

"7.30 AM, why?" he asked as if it was someone else's business.

"7.30 AM!? But... Didn't I... Tell you to wake me up at..." You were so shocked that you could only stutter.

"Well, yes, and I promised to wake you up as early as I could." Aventurine innocently shrugged his shoulders.

As early... As he could?

Somehow, you felt there was a huge emphasis right there. The two of you stared at each other, one dumbfounded, one smiling nonchalantly.

Ah!!! Right!!!

He sucks at getting up early!!!

Actually, both of you were.

If this was a movie, then it was probably the moment when the main character shouted, 'I shouldn't have trusted him!'

Thus, you bolted out of the room and began preparing at the highest speed known to man.

"Aventurine!!"

A few minutes later, you dashed straight toward his room again. By that time, you had showered and dressed for college.

But the moment you stepped in, your jaw almost dropped to the floor.

Aventurine stood there with only a white towel draped over his waist. He'd clearly just stepped out of the shower, as his body glowed with a wet sheen.

Glittering droplets of water clung to his chiseled abs, some trickling down even further below. It took you everything not to follow them with your eyes.

Aventurine, who was drying his hair, finally turned at you.

"What's the matter? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, a playful and tantalizing grin tugging at his lips.

"Aventurine... Why... What are you doing naked!?" you couldn't help but blurt out.

"Says the one who barged in without knocking. Anyway, need anything?"

Saying that, Aventurine approached you, his broad chest filling your field of vision.

Trying to block the view, you shoved your phone to him.

"I'm here to talk about this! Why did you turn off my alarm!? No wonder it didn't ring!"

"Ah, that... But weren't you tired last night? I just thought of letting you sleep a bit longer. How are you feeling now? Did you rest well?"

Aventurine stared at your phone, not trying to deny or affirm it.

Based on his words alone, he sounded like a caring, attentive boyfriend who was just looking out for his girlfriend.

Except you didn't buy it, because of two glaring contradictions.

"Whose fault is it that I barely got any sleep last night!? Also, if that's the case, you must've either disabled it right after I fell asleep, or woke up way earlier!"

"But in the end, I still woke you up, right?" Aventurine gave you an 'all's well that ends well's' smile.

"What do you mean 'in the end'? Were you planning to not wake me up?"

"In the end, I still did, right?"

"..."

He totally planned to!!

Seriously, why is he acting like this!?

In truth, you knew why. You also knew that underneath his nonchalant and flippant attitude, he was sulking.

As you stood there, fuming, Aventurine asked you, putting the towel around his neck.

"Won't you be staying for breakfast?"

"No. Thanks to someone, I have to skip it."

Despite the hint of wistfulness in his tone, you bluntly turned him down, averting your gaze.

"Then, will you be having lunch with your team leader instead? Say hi to him for me."

Hearing that, you raised your head and shot back.

"We've spoken about this! It's just an obligatory meeting to discuss the assignment progress!"

"One that you set a bunch of alarms and even skipped breakfast for. Totally not important indeed."

... It was because you'd ditched one too many of such meetings, missing the next one would totally get you axed. In your defense, that team leader was a prick.

Of course, there was no way you could admit that you often skip group activities to your boyfriend. Or that karma was finally biting you in the ass. That'd be super lame.

We are getting nowhere fast, and I'm running out of time.

"...A-anyway, I'll get going."

You awkwardly turned around, still trying to maintain a tough front.

"Hey, you forget something."

You turned around. "What is—"

His lips sealed yours, and you were unable to finish your words.

"!!"

Aventurine ferociously devoured your lips, leaving no inch untouched, as if imprinting himself. He nibbled on your upper lips, before gnawing on the lower ones. He allowed you a brief moment of respite to reclaim your breath, before resuming his onslaught from a different angle.

The delicate string that was holding your rationality together was about to snap. You were basically holding onto him at this point.

He stroked your tingly lips with the tip of his tongue, gently parting them. Then, his tongue slid in, coiling around your own.

Just as you thought of surrendering completely to this mind-blowing kiss, he stopped.

"...Aren't you going to be late? Whoops."

Aventurine caught you as you toppled forward, burying you in his chest. Immediately, the refreshing, masculine fragrance of his cologne filled your nose.

Embarrassingly, your legs had turned into jelly.

"Oh no. Can you stand? Should we call in sick?"

Within his arms, you could hear him suggest that a tad too happily.

"...No thanks. I'm still going."

You somehow managed to squeeze out those words despite the supple tenderness around you.

"What a shame. Even though your dear boyfriend is home at last."

He spoke in a deflated tone that you could tell was genuine.

Aventurine was a busy man. His business trip would sometimes last for more than a month. Today, he finally had a day off.

All you could do was stare at him as he wiped a trace of saliva from his lips, smiling provocatively at you

"Oh, well. We can always save it for later. If it gets too unbearable, you can always come back to me. Have a nice day."

The kiss that ended as abruptly as it started was his way of giving you something to think about.

As underhanded as always...

You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face!

You grabbed the towel around his neck, pulling him toward you. Briefly, you saw his eyes widen as he was caught off-guard.

"Mmh-!"

Then, you gave Aventurine the taste of his own medicine, but with your own finishing touch.

After the kiss had ended, Aventurine, seemingly taken aback, reached for his lower lip. A red mark had blossomed on his lip, turning it a deeper shade of crimson.

"...I told you, I'll sneak off in the middle, so please wait for me." You said.

Still tracing his lip, Aventurine stared straight at you, his violet-cyan eyes burning from within.

"...Alright. I'll be patient. But I won't wait for too long."

Extra

...Aventurine's patience lasted only until lunch break.

[twst-drabbles]

Jamil 17

Summary: You and Jamil lay in his bed in his dorm room. While you’re very tired, you’re visibly not bothered by the social implications of being in the bed of another. Jamil, on the other hand, is a little too aware.

(I saw the birthday card and went “eh, why not?” and wrote this.)

Was this something common in your world? Where, out of nowhere, people will just casually ask their friends if they can sleep with them in their bed? Because that’s what you did to Jamil. You approached him, luckily out of earshot from anyone important, and asked that very question with zero shame.

“Hey Jamil? Mind if I sleep with you in your bed tonight?”

Jamil will admit, it took him a good five seconds for him to register the words. And, he will also admit that he banged his knee against the table he was cleaning. Hit it so hard actually that he curled up into a ball, and practically retreated into his hoodie because why would you ask that?! In broad daylight?!

But you know what’s the worst part about all this? Jamil actually got excited. Giddy even! When the hot flush flooding through his body finally settled, all that was left was this glowing feeling.

At the time, he thought that his charms have finally got to you. That all his efforts to be in your good graces have begun to bear fruit.

And so he said, “You know what? Yes, let’s do that. Setting aside the way you asked that, I think I can find it in my heart to forgive that.”

Past him’s an idiot. For all those times he thought himself above the hormonal college students, turns out Jamil was no better. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he was humbled.

And so here Jamil lays on his side of the bed, dressed in his best pajamas, surrounded by the best sheets and pillows he uses for special occasions, and you laying on your stomach, reading the next chapter for one of your classes.

You came in with a tired wave, bag at hand, and flopped over in his bed. And you’ve been in that pose since.

“So, this was what you meant.” Jamil said. Now that his judgment is clear again after an hour of doing nothing, he really should’ve known you didn’t mean anything special by what you asked. Shame on him for expecting an extra meaning to them.

“Hmm? Oh, was the way I asked weird?” You glanced towards him. Jamil recognizes that exhausted look weighing in your eyes. Perhaps, through the rose-tinted glasses, Jamil didn’t notice. Once again, shame on him. Jamil should suffocate himself with these pillows. “Sorry about that. I just really want one good night of sleep. Just one.”

The urge to hit himself with the pillows lessened. Jamil moved onto his stomach, and copied your position, propping his chin on the pile. “Is there something wrong with your bed?”

You put your phone down. “Weather’s getting hotter and I still don’t have a working air con. It gets so humid at night that I sweat through the night. Can barely get more than three hours of sleep at a time.”

…of course the headmage would neglect to give you something as simple as a stable heating and cooling. Leave it to him to ignore your problems while he goes off doing whatever else. Probably binge watching an old drama that’s not even any good.

“I can’t imagine it’s been easy to deal with. Though, I have to ask, why my bed? You have others that you’re closer to, don’t you?”

Others such as Ace and Deuce, but Jamil didn’t want to say their names. It’s childish but he doesn’t want to see if your eyes light up at their mere mention.

You stretched your spine and settled down. “Yeah I know other people, but–how do I say this–they’ll make it weird.”

Weird? Like how Jamil preparing everything from the lights, to the blankets and even stuffing his drawer with extra wipes just in case wasn’t weird? What?

“Wait, what you mean by weird?” Now Jamil’s worried. Did something happen for you to say that? Did someone do something to you?

You waved off his concern. “Well, see, originally I was just going to ask Rook since he doesn’t mind sharing spaces with anyone, but he’s also very into cuddling and I’m not in the mood for that.”

“That’s true, he’s very open about that kind of thin–wait you cuddled him before?” Since when?

“Cuddled him plenty of times. Rook gives the best hugs without trying to flirt with me. Anyways, Rook wasn’t an option, and neither are Ace and Deuce since there’s no room to spare. There was Leona but after that whole ordeal with Azul, I really don’t want to go back there. And as for asking Azul himself… I feel like he’d charge me for that. So, here I am.”

Oh. Well, when putting it like that, it does make sense doesn’t it? So long as you don’t figure out exactly what went through his head when you asked. He’ll just keep quiet about that.

Jamil sighed into his pillow. “While I want to ask why you didn’t ask Kalim, but I know him too well. A peaceful rest isn’t something he can give, not with the way he sleeps.”

You patted his shoulder and it took everything in Jamil to not jump out of his skin. “You get it. So, yeah, thanks Jamil, for not saying no. Honestly, I was ready to find an empty classroom and just sleeping in there.”

Jamil narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that. You’ll get in trouble. Just sleep here for the time being. When I have time, I’ll see about pestering Crowley into getting everything in order.”

“You do too much for me, Jamil. Really.”

While things didn’t play out the way he wanted to, the warmth flooding in his chest has not once went away. If anything, from the sight of your smile, it threatened to overflow.

This is nice, that you trust him like this.

“…alright, this is still bothering me. How did you and Rook even start cuddling in the first place?”

And can he add himself onto that list of people you cuddle with?

“Hahaha, yeah that is strange, right? Alright, may as well tell you.”

[starlight-library]

Impromptu dates | LN4

pairing: lando norris x sick!bookworm!reader

summary: a bookworm & f1 driver + stomach bug = the best lazy date ever.

warnings: none!

fc: none!

wc: 859

Most people hated being sick.

It’s understandable that people hated being sick. They don’t feel. They feel gross. They feel off. The list goes on and on on why people hated being sick. Especially people who are more independent and hate the idea of someone else taking care of them. Which you understood as it hit a bit too close to home.

Which is why as someone fiercely independent as you are, people never understood why you enjoy being sick. 

You could never find the words to explain it when people ask you on the spot. You try and try yet you’re never happy with your answer and people never quite believed you which was fair but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it when you were sick. 

Not violently ill, which you emphasize. You did not enjoy running a super high fever, or running to the bathroom, or having your head constantly over a toilet vomiting up basically nothing. That was not fun. You enjoy the kind of sickness where you can’t go out into the world for a day or two. Maybe a low grade fever that’ll pass or a quick stomach bug that’s out of your system fast but you still take the precaution and stay indoors. 

Why?

Well that’s because it means you can stay under the covers after a shower with your kindle in its little tablet holder. Page turner remote in hand while having your water and drink of choice (mostly iced coffee), and some white noise as background noise. It was truly perfection for you.

Yet it was Lando’s hell.

Lando, your boyfriend, hated when you were sick. It meant no cuddles. No hugs. No kisses. Any physical contact was on halt and it was already torture given his schedule so the rare time he did get to see you in person and you were sick? He was miserable. Sure, you two video called but it just made him more sad that he wasn’t there to take care of you even if you swore that you didn’t need someone to take care of you. He refused to believe it so he would send you meals and medicine. He refused to let you pay him back so you’ve learned to accept it without the guilt weighing on your shoulders. It was a nice agreement you two had silently made and nothing really could beat this.

Until now.

There was a month break in between Singapore and Austin and Lando was going to soak up every second he could get and it was fine till somehow you caught a stomach bug. Lando refused to leave which also meant he caught the stomach bug.

You’re happily half laying/half sitting next to Lando against some pillows under a weighted heated blanket. You have one of his sweatshirts on while sipping your iced coffee and looking at your kindle while Lando tosses and turns next to you. You tried offering him medicine or some crackers and soup but he’s turned all the options down but now it seems he’s settled down. You look over and are greeted with the same green-blue eyes you’ve grown to pick out of the crowd in a moment. You see the curls sticking to his forehead and gently you push some out of the way and smile. “Hey.”

“How are you drinking iced coffee right now?” The Brit asks.

You shrug before smiling, “I don’t know. Guess I feel better after cleaning my stomach out and taking some medicine unlike someone.” Poking his forehead, you giggle while he huffs slightly and moves his head away. You hear Lando grumble something about the medicine tasting bad and you roll your eyes. “You’re such a big baby.”

Lando pouts slightly grumbling he is not a big baby before you return to your book. You look back hearing a huff and raise a brow. “Yes?”

“How do you just lay here and read and do nothing? I’m so bored yet too tired to get up.”

You shrug, “I just get really engrossed in my books sometimes I forget to even eat or pee.”

“You what!?” Lando sits up a bit in surprise before laying down and whining at his upset stomach.

“Oh come here.” You start.

You shift and sit up a bit more and reach over and rearrange your nightstand. You move your drinks further back along with your tablet holder before grabbing your TV remote and turning the TV on. You watch Lando lay there for a moment before shifting closer. He tosses and turns before slowly he settles on his stomach letting a soft sigh of relief out. Wrapping his arms around your waist, the Brit nuzzles his face into your stomach before settling down and looking at the TV. Lando flips through some apps and television options before settling on ‘The Hangover’.

Settling back down against the pillows you run your fingers gently through his hair while you go back to your book, the movie becoming background noise for you. This is how you two spend the evening and it’s the best impromptu date and now becomes your go to date.

[bambisnc]

i guess the time has come [ft. p.hn]

-> recap : “hanniii,” iroha says, throwing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder, “i can’t believe you left your ~girlfriend~ moka here all alone… she’s been pining after you for ages now~” you quietly slip out before you can hear her response.

pairing : bsf!hanni x f!reader genre : angst uwu cw/tw : girl idk i tried to make it sad + uneditted <3 wc : 0.6k (chat did u notice how the number of words keeps decreasing ...)

it’s raining. 

it’s raining and you’re still in school long after the bell signaling the end of the day; embroiled in the committee plans for the upcoming school festival. 

it’s raining when you see hanni’s lone figure walking back through the school gates. she doesn’t see you though, her eyes too busy focusing on her phone screen. 

a minute later, you hear a familiar notification from your own phone.

● hanniiee 😏 guess who’s at school rn … 

● you well. me

● hanniiee WHAT WHERE WHY 

● you  dumbass look up

her head swoops up, and you swear you could almost count the stars upon stars in her eyes which look around in search of you.

you wave to catch her attention.

and when she waves back, for a second it’s just the two of you in the entire world.

hanni races over to meet you and you almost want to scold her because the ground is already wet – what if she slips or something? but somehow the sight of her eagerness is enough to quell all the other feelings bubbling inside you. 

“yn~? jesus did you zone out on me?” hanni teasingly asks. 

you shake your head, “i wouldn’t dare.” 

“mwah <3 that’s more like it. hey so why are you in school so late anyway?” 

before you reply, you take a moment to look at your best friend. hanni shakes the umbrella slightly to rid it of the water. 

when she looks up, she doesn’t meet your eyes. she’s looking at someone else. 

“ah-! moka, there you are! i can’t believe you’d make me come all the way here just to get you an umbrella.” 

you don’t turn around. 

“pft. why? am i not allowed to disturb the ever-too-busy-for-me pham hanni for a teeny-tiny little favor?~” 

hanni walks behind you, shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly. her clear laugh is what finally propels you to turn around and stop staring at the blank wall in front of you.

“well~ i might make an exception for you. just because you’re a cutie <3”

“my my, such an honor isn’t it? oh right! i wanted to ask your opinions on the dance my club members and i were preparing for the festival!!”

“oooh dance~? yeah you did mention that earlier … ”

?..

she and hanni go on talking about something; you’d be damned if anything actually registered in your brain. you can’t really bring yourself to interrupt them either.

but anymore of this,... you don’t think you’ll be able to handle.

“hi moka..! um also hanni my work’s already done so i’ll be leaving now-” it’s genuinely nothing less than a herculean task for you to be able to layer your words with a thick coating of nonchalance. 

it’s all you can do to act normal. at least for now. 

at least in front of her.

“already?” hanni whines, “aw can’t you stay longer? what’ll i do here without you :( ~” 

you’d do anything for her. 

“i really can’t,” you smile, “moka.. you’ll keep hanni company though, yeah?”

she looks shocked to hear you say her name. to be fair, you are too. 

“yeah i’ll- i’ll be here.”

hanni, bless her heart, immediately offers you her umbrella, “here-! take this, it’s still pouring out there.” the same umbrella which she had come all the way here to give to moka. 

“wouldn't you two need it though?” you ask.

“no.” her hand is looped through moka’s. you don’t remember since when they were standing like that. 

since when they even became a concept. 

(you know you’re overreacting but wasn’t it supposed to be the two of you against the world?)

“i think we’ll manage without, it’s fine really.” 

hanni’s smile bids you farewell.

you leave the umbrella right by the gate where hanni’s bag was kept. you couldn’t take it and leave the 2 of them umbrella-less in good conscience. 

you also can’t help thinking of another universe.. one in which she’d run after you, through the rain. like a scene from the one of those cheesy rom coms you used to binge all the time.

… looking up at the grey sky, you’re almost grateful for the rain and how it streams down your face.

notes : 🤷🤷 + [m.list] + YALL CLICK ON THE LINK PLEASE song rec : te quiero - kiof wbk

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[prinzrupprecht]

When someone else gives you gifts

Featuring: Tesla, Apollo, Qin, and Thor ( part 1 )

Part 2 will be different characters

CW: mostly fluff and jealousy. Yandere tendencies with some of them

Tesla

He came home from a long day of work expecting you to be asleep but he noticed you on the couch reading a book. “Why are you awake? You didn’t have to wait for me.” He was right, it was nearly midnight while you waited for him.

He was very into his research and his passion for science sometimes made you question your insanity as to why you fell for this man if science was more important than you— his partner.

“Oh, I did? I guess I was too into this book. Also, thanks for the flowers hun.” You walked over to him and raised your toes to kiss him on his nose. He looked at you with confusion. Flowers? He didn’t get you flowers.

“Flowers? I didn’t get you any,” he felt bad when he saw the large bouquet on the table. Did someone give these to you? An unknown feeling formed in his chest.

Quickly he walked over to it and grabbed them tossing them in the trash. “Hey! Why did you do that?!” You shouted angrily but he stopped you from taking them out of the trash.

“We’ll plant a whole garden of roses, besides…” he grabbed your waist.

“I prefer if other men didn’t give you such things when I am the only one that has that privilege,” he kept you close while your heart was racing in your chest. A whole garden? You liked the sound of that instead.

Apollo

He noticed it right away. The new necklace that you were wearing. “This is new.” He lifted the chain up with one finger, but he knew it was a stupid question. You most likely found it in the pile of jewelry he has given you over the years.

You were dumbfounded at first and looked down at the necklace. “One of your followers… he— he gave it to me as a gift,” you stuttered. There was a long pause between you two before he clipped the necklace off.

Apollo didn’t like the idea of another giving you luxury things. He was trying to keep calm but he laughed while holding the necklace in between a few of his fingers while holding it up over his head.

“A cheap thing like this? I could give you anything you want," Apollo pulled you closer to him with his arms tugging around your small body. You knew you were trapped with him and he wouldn’t let go. Was he afraid that someone would steal you away from him? Nobody could steal you away from him. More so you used to be jealous of his herd of women and used to ignore him. He took more interest in you than the other way around in the beginning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I— I won’t accept any more gifts from your followers.” Apollo liked hearing that as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

With you being his only beloved, he would be the only one to give you things. Was he jealous? He wouldn’t admit if he was. He believed that jealousy was a disgusting trait and nothing beautiful about it.

With you in his arms, he deeply sighed dramatically. “Now my dear, go put on something nice that was from me this time.” his lips were near your ears as his breath tickled down your spine. Without any hesitation, you nodded happily to your beloved before retreating to go back to your shared room.

Qin Shi Huang

You knew Qin as a child because of your affiliation with Chun Yan who introduced you two. You were treated like a daughter to her but she wasn’t your biological mother. You treated Ying as everyone else and not some creepy kid that everyone thought he was. Over time this made him fall for you and ask you to stay with him even after Chun Yan died.

Fast forward to the present as Qin Shi Huang— also known as Ying Zheng became king as he promised to Chun Yan. You still were by his side even when other nobles offered their daughters to him as concubines or an arranged marriage, he dismissed them all. Normally jealousy filled you and you thought there was no chance for a commoner like you could be his empress.

As you wandered the halls of his palace, you ran into one of the young maids who told you she had something for you. It was a very fine patterned robe that only nobles were granted to wear. “I can’t wear this, it’s forbidden for someone like me to—” she cut you off by telling you that it was fine and Qin said so. Qin?! Were you going to believe her? Did she have some ulterior motive? You reluctantly tried it on. It was dark red with flowers on it. The maid wasn’t around which was odd. Your former clothes were gone as well. Huh?!

You found the main hall looking for your room to possibly change, but Qin noticed you even with his blindfold on. Thank god he can’t see you with the noble robe on, right? “There you are, you had me worried for a minute.” He grabbed your arm but that was a mistake. He felt the expensive silk of the robe. The sleeves were long so of course he knew what kind of material you were wearing.

“Oh? It’s not like you to be wearing such a thing.” He chuckled before a smile appeared on his lips. He wasn’t mad?!

“Your maid told me to wear it and said that you were fine with it, but she left and took my clothes…” you frowned but Qin was more upset that someone was trying to get you in trouble. He could never get mad at you. You were too pure and kind. You had accepted him for who he is and stood by his side.

“Now tell me who it was, I’ll make sure she’ll get punished later.” You wanted to object but you can’t because he was your king. You nodded and felt bad that the maid would most likely lose her job. He still held onto you even though you were shaking a bit. He told you to wear more of those robes since they look good on you. Even just hearing him say that brought a bubbly feeling in your heart.

Thor

You were again stuck inside the Asgard palace bored again… The entire city was nearly destroyed by titans and many civilians were rebuilding their homes and businesses. You looked out of the window and spotted Forseti talking to a few of the officials. You loathed the man, he didn’t do anything during the invasion and only worried about Thor.

A knock was heard from your room, you had expected that Thor had returned but then you remembered he doesn’t knock. You grumbled a lowly come in and of course, Loki was at the door looking smug than ever. “The hell do you want?” You frowned, why would you ever be so hopeful that Thor would free his time up for you? You two weren’t even married either but acted like it. Odin had tried to forbid any relationship between you two, but Thor didn’t obey that order.

“Why so snarky? I just wanted to come to check up on my future sis-in-law,” he mocks that last part since the marriage thing was off the table. You didn’t say anything. Was he here to try to make you angry?

He quickly changed the subject and pulled out a small doll he made. “I made this, it does look like you, right? Here take it,” he put it next to you. It sort of creeped you out but you kept quiet. Were you terrified? Maybe.

“Why are you making voodoo dolls?” You detested the plushie and hoped Thor would come back sooner.

“Who said it was for that kind of sorcery? It’s just a gift! I swear!” Loki was faking his emotions while you quietly mumbled ‘whatever’ and reluctantly accepted it while holding the doll as he took his leave. What a weird guy…

Hours had passed by as you fell asleep on the couch but you had awoken to someone moving you. “You’re back?” You looked up to see Thor holding you with both of his arms. His expression wasn’t calm like usual. He seemed irritated. Did something happen?

“Mhm…” he was quiet but you saw how different his expressions were than usual.

“He came here when I was gone,” he grabbed the doll that was next to you squeezing it so hard that the head of the doll popped off. How his cousin was gifting you such things. Creepy things. Thor wanted to beat sense to him but held back his anger.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what he would do if I rejected it.” You frowned but Thor's left hand touched your cheek as you stared up at him. He genuinely smiled.

“He won’t hurt you… I’ll make sure of it.” The reassurance you wanted the most as you buried your face in his chest. You just wanted his comfort and nothing else.

Note: no eta when part 2 will come but if I do another it’ll probably be Susano’o, Buddha, Loki and Anubis. Edit: I forgot about Poseidon. So probably 5 characters for part 2.

[17020]

TU CORAZÓN ES MÍO — ORQUÍDEAS X WINBRE.

There is absolutely no one like him. All you hear is that young love is nothing more than miserable. With him, though, it's the complete opposite. He is your present and future, going through thick and thin together. Your heart is his, and his heart is yours.

STARRING . . . Ren Kaji, Jo Togame, Toma Hiragi. fem! reader

DICEN QUE EL AMOR EN SU JUVENTUD

SOLO TERMINA EN DOLOR... featuring REN KAJI

Ren Kaji was tired of hearing the same bullshit that came from every old fart's mouth. That young love isn't meant to last, not one bit. Every second spent together will eventually crumble, and it's best to go your separate ways before life itself sets you apart. Right?

Hell fucking no. Ren Kaji was sure that they must have had shitty, unhappy lives, because there was no way he could imagine life without you.

Sure, things were not always a bed of roses. Kaji knew that he wasn't exactly the best type of person to deal with, so he knew that it could take a bit for him to get used to things. And truth be told, he was glad you were patient.

Relationships weren't his strong suit—hell, you were his first one. His inexperience and his temper made it a wild ride, but you were willing to welcome him with open, loving arms. Your embrace made him forget about everything else: no person, comment, or action could come between the two of you. You were inseparable.

His first date, first kiss, first time, you were present in all. The more Kaji spent his days with you, the more he realized how many idiots he had heard say that this wouldn't last. He was determined to prove them wrong.

And he knew that he was being hasty, the way the velvety box slipped from his fingers many times was enough for the world to know that for the first time, Ren Kaji was anxious.

Fresh out of high school, he bolted through the busy streets. His destination? Your home.

Because after a nasty fight, he knew he had to make things right. He couldn't afford to lose you—not now, not ever.

When you heard a knock on your door, what you saw left you speechless. Your boyfriend was absolutely disheveled, with his hair all over his face, his eyes brimming with tears, and an open velvety box in his hand, revealing a thin band with your birthstone.

"I don't give one shit that we're young, but I want you to know that my heart is yours. This ring's all I have for now. Yn, marry me."

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

THEY'RE MISERABLE, BROKEN, AND ALONE... featuring JO TOGAME

It had to be kept a secret. For both your sakes.

Because if the townspeople were to know that Bofurin's most beloved princess was involved with Shishitoren's second in command, frankly, a war was to take place.

It wasn't as if Togame was a complete asshole, but first impressions were always of upmost importance. And Jo Togame had screwed up by being a douche to Bofurin and falling for someone in enemy territory.

He was running out of excuses.

From having to run errands, being too tired and having to head home early, or even having to go to the bathroom and mysteriously spend hours looking for one, Togame always had a little lie up his sleeve in order to sneak out. It got difficult with time as Choji offered to accompany him in his errands, and Sako questioned him on why his lips were swollen, a red tint smeared across them.

"So, who's the lucky gal?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, I drank beet juice, that's all."

"Does beet juice leave your hair messy and give you hives on your neck?"

Togame chuckled as he raised his hands to his head, patting down his hair in an attempt to fix it. "Don't push it. I'll bring her over when I'm ready."

Sako stared at Togame with wide eyes, seemingly unable to process that he had indeed accurately guessed Togame's secret activities. "It's that serious?" he asked, with his raven haired friend humming in return.

"Best thing to ever happen to me. Keep it on the low, will ya? Don't want this spilling out."

Togame’s secret was well kept until a few weeks later, when he found himself inside a popular restaurant which was the borderline between Bofurin and Shishitoren territory.

And technically, he tried his best to be discreet. The restaurant’s popularity had skyrocketed overnight, which essentially meant he was to be more wary. A cap was on his head, with some dark aviator shades covering his eyes. All that hard work for nothing, as his infamous jacket was still draped over his shoulders.

The ‘disguise’ was worth it, though, as a smile grew on your face from how ridiculous he looked. It was a sign that Jo Togame was willing to go above and beyond in order to make you happy, and you were sure to keep that in mind.

“Jo, aren’t those your friends?”

The look on his face was indescribable. He whooshed his hand in the air in an attempt to call a waiter and ask for a check, and ended up drawing more attention to him.

And there they were, Choji Tomiyama and Kota Sako, making a beeline towards his table, wide eyes and shit eating grins plastered on their faces. Choji was the first to speak up, his hand patting the cap on his friend’s head. “What’s with the look, Kame-chan?”

"Is this the girl you told us about? Wait—isn't she—"

"She is" he sighed, "which is why I wanted things to be lowkey."

Sako looked distressed, his hands stuffed inside his pockets. "Do you know what'll be of us if Bofurin was to find out about this?"

Togame simply smiled in return, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"If Bofurin finds out and has a problem, it means they're miserable, broken, and alone. I love Yn, and I'd to through hell and five steps beyond for her."

A ESTAS CALLES NO VOY A REGRESAR PA NADA

TENGO ALGUIEN QUE ME AMA... featuring TOMA HIRAGI

No matter how many men you met and dated, you never seemed to find yourself comfortable with them. From them being too little or too much, you thought you'd never find the perfect match.

And your best friend Toma Hiragi had the pleasure to hear all about it.

"I mean, the date was horrible!" you exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. "He spent the whole date on his phone talking to his friends, and when it was time to pay, he expected me to do so! I got so angry I stood up and left him on the spot. Even the waitress supported me!"

Toma sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And ya went on this blind date because...?"

"Because I want someone who can treat me right, Toma, and so far I've found nothing but assholes."

He loved the way his name rolled so smoothly off your tongue. You were his closest friend, the one he went to for everything. Hearing about your love life mishaps was enough for him to stuff his whole stomach with pills.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"What?"

"Ya know what? Friday. 7pm. Dress nice."

"Why—what for?" you asked, to which Hiragi just facepalmed. "You complain so damn much about assholes, figured I'll just take ya to dinner instead. So, dress nice, and don't make me wait."

As soon as you heard those words, you knew your life was about to change. Because Hiragi doesn't do things for anybody, so for him to ask you to dinner was huge.

It wasn't a one time thing. Each week, you found yourself in various food places and arcades with Hiragi, with his excuse being that 'this was a way for you to shut your trap.' And it worked?

There were no more blind dates, or random hookups. Just Hiragi taking up more and more of your time every day. You couldn't lie to yourself, it felt like heaven.

"Toma, why do you keep taking me places? I don't want you to do it if it's out of pity, y'know. Save your cash."

He shook his head in response, "Save it? I've been waitin' for this since forever ago, ya think I'm gonna waste my chance?"

"What do you mean?"

"My heart's always belonged to ya, stupid. It's about damn time ya know."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

[livelaughlovesubs]

for your aniversary can u do aventurine w/ Forcing them to divulge past tramaus or secrets and calling them a mocking name or title?

Oh- being sadistic much aren’t we? (Edit: I went overboard)

Mean!reader x Aventurine (?) - reader is gon

Warning: no smut lul, reader’s real egotistic, bringing up past trauma, dark content (?)

Anniversary event

Loud and obnoxious, with flashing lights all over the establishment. The quiet lobby music fading in and out of the conversations, with the sound of dice and cards taking the front stage. Occasionally, a cry for help or laughter would break out, or a scream of despair. Indeed, so was the never changing atmosphere of the casino. You sat by the bar counter, clicking the metal rod that came with your drink against the glass. Then, you took a sip of it.

Long have you gotten bored of these simple stimulations, the feeling of life and death being at stake was no where to be found. That’s because you overdid it, you found out all the tricks to success, and now you were waiting for someone else to notice as well, to have a fair and unpredictable game with them. One of the reasons of why you didn’t stop coming to the gamblers house, the other one being it has become a part of your routine.

And, as if your prayers have been heard by the aeons, the day where you’d met such a person really came. It came in the form of a surprising defeat. You stared at the cards of your opponent, glistening sweat rolling down the side of your forehead, hieratic heart beat pounding in your head. “I lost.” A small whisper among all the other noises in the background, then the corners of your mouth twitched upwards.

“Fuck- haha, I really lost huh?” Your tone was a little irritated but all in all amused. Then you turned your gaze to your opponent, eyeing him up and down. A handsome young man with blond hair and fancy clothing, a soft smile plastered on his face. “Sorry, pal, but that’s what it means to gamble.” You shook your head, grinning, “no need to apologise, I should thank you.. erm?” “Aventurine.” “Ahh~ aventurine, from the IPC huh? A big shot, thanks for doing me the honours of playing with you. Seems like the rumours aren’t just rumours this time.”

It was the truth, you weren’t mad in the slightest, no, you were glad you found a new challenge to overcome. Though, this was a difficulty you didn’t expect, because the next time and the time after you did nothing but lose. This was more than skill, there was something else about him that causes him to win. You were sure of it after playing against him so often. That’s why you decided to play dirty.

By the next time you two played, you’ve done some background check on him. Well, not just some, you knew everything about him afterwards. From the smallest things to some high peaks and lows of his life. Once again, you entered the casino, an unusual confidence in your steps as you headed straight for the table where Aven was playing. “Hey Aven! Still on your winning streak aren’t ya?” Due to your many encounters, you’ve grown accustomed to calling each other by a nickname.

“Oh, hey palm still haven’t given up?” The boy asked you, turning his head around to give you a small greeting. He was still in the middle of a game, though he looked unfocused now that you came. “You bet, I won’t stop until I’ve won.” Suddenly, he laughed, pushing his bangs back. “That’s the spirit! Fine, let me finish this one first.” It didn’t take long until he was done, and without doubt, he won. Afterward he pointed at the chair next to him, hinting at you to sit down.

“No, I have something special planned for this match. I booked us a vip room.” You moved your head in the direction of the single rooms, smiling brightly. “Ah? My, you are making me excited, lead the way my friend.” He said, voice rid of any suspicion. After all, even in the worst case scenario, he could still take you in a fight. Your grin widened as you walked over to the rooms, opening a door and making a hand gesture at him, “after you.”

He nodded, as a way of saying thanks, then sat down all comfortable onto the couch. “This room sure is fancier than the rest, even the couch is softer.” You popped onto the armchair opposite of him, taking out the cards, and mixing them. “The atmosphere is so different, it’s so quiet.” Aven stared at your hands, wondering if he should trust you with the task of dealing, “hey, pal, we gon’ switch who’s dealing every turn?” You answered, “of course.”

After you were done with the mixing, you asked him, “what do you want to play?” The Blondie chirped, “your choice, you wanted to challenge me after all.” You hummed in acknowledgment, cooing delighted, “how about hold ‘em?” In return he responded, “bring it on.” While you were busy laying out the cards, he opened a suitcase and took out come chips, commenting, “say, how much do you want to bet?” You glanced at him for a split second, then said, “how about we start with 88 million?” Aven smirked, “sounds good to me.”

A few drinks and quite a few poker games later, the game was finally spiralling towards the end. Playing something like this in a one on one situation was way different than in a big group, it depended a tad more on luck than probability. Even so, his luck seems to be as unfair as ever, with how he was holding almost all of the chips now. “You really don’t disappoint, IPC big shot.” You chuckled, slumping back to carefully think it through.

“Hehe, it’s all a coincidence.” Aventurine said, while raising the stakes by 15 million. “Ah? Why the rush, peacock boy?” He was trying to make you fold or go all in, though were your cards really good enough? “Well it’s getting late. So, what’ll it be, my friend?” You smiled, but it wasn’t just a simple smile, it had something sinister and ugly behind it. “You are really dying to get back to the lion’s den, huh?”

A frown appeared on his pretty face, it was gone as fast as it popped up, and he tried to ignore it, “haha, you didn’t brush me as someone opposed to the IPC.” You shook your head, “no, i’m not, not necessarily so. Rather, I’m wondering what you think about it, former slave Aven?” He clenched his fists, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face, his usual cheekiness was gone, instead replaced with a sense of dread, “Y/n, you know what I could do to you when you call me with such a detestable title.”

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve there? Please pardon me then, I was simply joking.” You shrugged, then continued with, “or rather, I was intrigued to know if the rumours are true.” Out of nowhere, he leaned over the table and grabbed you by the collar, chips and cards long discarded on the floor. “What rumours?” Your irritating smirk didn’t dissipate, instead you kept your composure and told him, “how you came from an eradicated planet, and was passed around like an object.”

Something shattered inside him, his hand that was grabbing you felt weak. His stomach curled as he remembered all these ancient— long forgotten times he had eradicated from his storybook, his script. Yet somehow, you still found out, and if he could take you by your word, you weren’t the only one who knew. The overwhelming pounding of his hearts beats were almost hurting, he starred at you, are your lips that were moving, but he couldn’t focus.

Your voice rang in his ears, uncomfortably so, loud, obnoxious yet unclear, a high pitched beep was all that reached him before suddenly— all sounds vanished, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. It was quiet, as if he was stuck battling his own consciousness, plagued by memories he tried to seal away. Did you stop talking? Is that why he couldn’t hear a thing? Though your voice made him furious before, now he was in desperate need to hear you, to block out his terrible, horrible thoughts, to overshadow them.

In the midst of it all, you reached a hand out to him, rubbing the tattoo on his neck. “This is proof for your previous life, ain’t it, slave?” Then you stared right into his hypnotising eyes, a bright shade of magenta paired with a piercing royal blue, the most recognisable feature of him. “I guess everyone wanted a piece of those mesmerising eyes of yours.” His back was soaked in cold sweat now, chills ran down his spine while he dreaded your touch. It was awful, it creeped him out, it make his skin crawl, so much that he wished to scratch and rid his skin to shreds.

“Y-y/n, stop this at once, it’s not funny anymore.” He stumbled over his voice, the confidence he once had was long gone, leaving behind this broken and lazily fixed up man who was still showing signs of being worn out. The often times he was used, sold, and played with, you knew all about it, didn’t you? And instead of feeling a shred of pity —something you seemingly didn’t have— you taunted him.

A giggled erupted from you, then two and more to come. “What a lucky dog you are, since you are still standing as of today. Not as sane as before, but we can overlook that.” He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to speak up, uttering quieter than he wanted, “what do you want, y/n?” There wasn’t a hint of conviction in the way he talked, you had caught him on your hook. “Oh no, nothing, really. Just, isn’t it funny? How a slave like you managed to increase your worth by selling yourself? Like that deal you made with-” “shut up. Just- shut up y/n, stop.. please.”

“…oh?”

“Did I go too far? I’m sorry. Though, you did as well, didn’t you? You dirtied your hands and killed your owner.” He laughed in your face, “I don’t have an owner, I’m not a slave anymore.” Suddenly you have a face as if you’ve been waiting for this moment, grinning from ear to ear as you spoke, “Aha! So you aren’t denying my accusations. Then it must be true that the hands of all these filthy men touched and soiled you, no?”

To your surprise, or as you expected, he slammed his fist onto the table and shouted, “y/n, stop it right now with your ridiculous imagination. I don’t know what it is that you want from me, but leave me the fuck alone.” His face was red, with anger probably, but he trembled, he was scared, disgusted, repulsed even.

You sighed disappointed, before saying, “then, let’s finish this game of poker first. Alright slav—ehem— Aven?” He glared at you, he wanted nothing else but to leave, though he couldn’t when there were still money at stake. “Damn it, you played me, you never wanted to win the poker game- you wanted something else.” In response to his statement, you shrugged with your shoulders again, scoffing, “I’m no big, evil mastermind like that. In fact, it’s much more simple. I am chasing the thrill of it, and the high of a win. Though…”

You trailed off, leaned down to the floor to pick up the cards from the boy, then looking up at him, “I want it to feel like life-and-death for the both of us.” After you collected the two cards from him, he was still standing next to the desk, unmoving. But you ignored it, instead explaining, “since you threw them on the ground, I take it you folded? So, my win this time.” Normally he’s argue, obviously, but this time he was still in tumour, his inner conflicts haven’t been solved yet, he could only watch in despicable silence.

“Don’t look at me like that, wasnt I your old pal? Ah, that reminds me, 88 million— is a pretty number, no? It’s said to be a lucky number, and the price of your body during your first auction.”

At this point, his knees gave out, he felt back onto the couch, eyes blank as he stared at you, cursing underneath his breath. This game has been going on for too long, and it was only going to be worse from here on.