#the bright smoothie of words

[s0lar-ch3ri]

wish we could talk but your stone walls leave me hurt

(title is lyric from here we go again by mikayla geier i believe is her last name, theres a tiny bit of arguing but its hurt/comfort guys its not like my other one i prommy)

woah fic link time go my scarabs i guess

Troy thought he was pretty freaking great. I mean, he was. He won so many games (3/7, that’s a huge number), everyone loved him (everyone who mattered at least), and he was so awesome (this one didn’t need any explanation). His little bee might be a tad on edge, but that’s fine. No, that’s completely normal and not his fault at all. Nothing for Troy to worry about.

Cog, did it get cold! I mean, Troy’s so smart, he knows snow is cold, but it’s been a bit since it got bad enough to a point where they had him go home earlier (it was NOT from the wipeout, shut up, that didn’t happen, and he didn’t need to tell anyone it happened). It may have been closer to go to his dad’s house, a bit easier too, but Troy liked a little challenge, it kept him on his feet and ready for anything. He wasn’t ever worried to show his dad when he got hurt, or anybody, he just wanted to visit his pretty awesome boyfriend and had no ulterior motives ever.

A feeling Troy wasn’t used to, yet was getting too often to like, was a twinge in his chest as he went to knock on the door. There was the smallest of voices in the back of his head, one saying he’d be turned away and shamed, one who said he’d be unwanted if he showed up in this state. But he’s Troy! He’s awesome, the most awesome, and ever so cool. In fact, dare he say it, he’s the best ever! He doesn’t need to worry. This is Lint, and if Lint loved him, everyone loved him, everyone that mattered.

He knocked on the door.

Lint opened the door, a look of concern on his face as he met Troy’s gaze (who wouldn’t look at Troy with such care, he’s so awesome, right?), looking at him up and down as if trying to decipher what he’d say to a brick wall.

“You’re hurt.”

“Hoo hah rise up?”

“Gah, get inside.”

It seems as though Lint wasn’t charmed the pants off by his totally awesome and not-at-all goofy smile. Maybe he didn’t like when the facial injuries made blood drip from him. Whatever, men covered in blood might be hot. That’s- that’s a normal thought. Yes it is. One hundred percent. We move on.

It wasn’t exactly the first time Lint had to patch Troy up from injuries of steam-sledding. It’s just never been under this kind of circumstance. It’s been after tournaments and such, but not too much Troy going to Lint’s house as the sun was setting to get something cared for. Which, that totally wasn’t the plan, he just wanted to see his boyfriend, who could agree he’s awesome, unlike his dad (well, he totally would, just- it’s complicated, shut up, don’t think about it).

“What was it this time?”

“Huh?”

“The reason you’re this bad? How big a fluke was it?”

“Psh, no, it’s nothing, I’m fine. Thanks though.”

Lint stopped cleaning the wounds. “You can’t be doing this again.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t keep fucking- no, I’m not gonna put up with this again!�� It’s a kind of anger Troy wasn’t used to. Troy, however smart he totally is, was utterly lost in whatever Lint could mean. He tilted his head in a way that may or may not resemble that of a confused dog as Lint put down the cleaning tools and stormed to the other side of the room. His hands were shaking (he couldn’t have been cold, his place was pretty warm, strange), and his breathing seemed more stiff, as if he was forcing himself to breathe at a normal pace (not that Troy would know anything about that, totally).

“Dude- I mean babe, my Honey Bee, what’s up?” Troy was a master of words.

“I don’t like being lied to Troy, you- you should know this!”

“Lie-”

Lint turned to yell at him, as if the raising of his voice wasn’t enough to send a message (knowing Troy, maybe it never was). “Every time I bother to ask, it’s always nothing, or something to not worry over, just-” He starts angrily buzzing. He does that.

Troy walked over to him, trying to grab onto his hands, trying to make sense of him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude-”

Lint smacked away his hands, they stung a bit (pun unintended). Lint had so much anger in his eyes. Troy caught onto the tears that streamed from them, like a slowly melting ice glacier. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong dude?!!”

“I don’t und-”

“TALK TO ME COG-DAMN IT! I CAN FUCKING TAKE IT! I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND, WHY CAN’T YOU TRUST ME?!”

Troy went silent. His heartbeat was pretty fast. He was shaking, but totally from the cold. They were still inside. It was just the cold, yeah. Lint was shaking too, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“H-”

“Go.”

Normally, Troy hated taking orders. However, this was Lint, and he was Troy, and Lint loved Troy, and Lint was the only one that mattered. He walked into some side room (he didn’t know if he wanted to risk the cold outside with unwrapped wounds), closing the door carefully and sitting behind it.

Troy can’t recall if he’s ever seen his boyfriend so angry. He doesn’t know if he’s just never shown it before. Troy held himself to be so great, and Lint always agreed. He didn’t want to give him any other idea. He didn’t need to give anybody that idea, he was awesome, and he never needed to explain why.

Maybe that’s because Troy couldn’t figure out how to explain why.

As Troy? He’s Troy, he’s gonna always be awesome! As a person? People wouldn’t get it when he explained that. He to them was self-absorbed, vain, an idiot, and thinking how, he’s unsure how wrong he is.

Maybe that was the issue. He was too great.

He couldn’t be anything but great. Not for his dad, not for his team, not for Lint. It was really a lie when he told him it was nothing, huh?

Cog, how many times had he said that? He couldn’t remember. Every small dismissal of himself, the asking without thanks- has Troy ever even said please? Lint has done so much good for someone who was great, so why has someone so bad done nothing for someone so much better than great could be? He took his boyfriend for granted, and yet he’s stayed because…Troy doesn’t know. His greatness? Is he really that? His steamsledding skills? Considering the situation, those weren’t good enough for him, and even if they were, Lint wasn’t that kind of guy. His looks? Not that kind of guy again, no, he thought of nothing Lint could be with him for.

Troy probably wasn’t unlikable, just…unsure if he was dating material.

A knock outside startled Troy, making him jump forward a bit more than he should have. The door opened, a puffy-eyed and tired Lint staring down at a still-injured and looking-like-a-flame-in-a-snowstorm Troy on the ground, slightly wide-eyed.

“I never finished helping you.”

“How long have I been in-”

“My bathroom? 5 minutes. C’mon Sugar.”

Even if he weren’t injured, Troy wobbled up, Lint having himself used as a crutch.

“It-”

“Is fine, now let’s finish up.”

Troy nodded. Lint knew how to bandage well, it was a good amount of tightness. He just watched Lint’s hands, his slightly shaking, something he knew wasn’t from cold. Lint had careful, caring movements. Troy wondered how well he’d do at those. They were both silent, minus a silent hum from Lint as he worked. Cog, he sounded pretty. Troy needed to do better for him.

“I don’t get it,” a breath Troy lost with his boyfriend’s beauty and his own pride.

“Get what?” Lint buzzed at him.

“You stick around, you continue to love me, when I just…Don’t do it right. Why?” Troy was ever so small and fragile, he felt like a thin piece of glass, and the blizzard was coming.

“Because I want to love you.” He said like it was the simplest answer in the world.

Troy snickered a bit. His bee was lovely.

His bee.

“I’m gonna do better.”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna be a better boyfriend, for you.” He could have thought he was. He just didn’t want to lie.

“...I’d like that, I think.” There was a small smile on Lint’s face, a small snicker too.

A big smile formed on Troy’s face. “Aw, are you laughing at me dude?”

“It’s not everyday you-”

“Yeah? I what?” He was holding back a world of giggles.

“I can’t help but laugh if you’re a bit of an idiot-” He finished up the bandaging, which was good, as Troy grabbed him into the couch and restrained him with a hug.

“I’m gonna get you for that dude!”

Now the two of them were laughing, with Troy bear-hugging Lint, and Lint playfully trying to push him off. After a bit, they settled, Troy simply spooning Lint on his couch.

“I wanna stay over the night.”

“We can arrange that.”

“I love you, don’t know if I say it enough.”

“You have time to do it more. I love you too.”

[s0lar-ch3ri]

i now must make my own (they may not be perfect btw)

"suck my fucking tits" (funnier if character has no tits)

"flesh fucking sacks" i like this a lot actually

im bad with thinkies srry ill maybe do more later

the biggest problem with writing fantasy in english is that there's really no alternate universe phrasing that carries the exact tone and context to the reader as "jesus fucking christ"

[cherry-leclerc]

greed ☆ op81

genre: smut, affair, erotic literature, angst, forbidden romance, enemies to "lovers", a bit angst/yearning, established relationships, voyeurism

word count: 16.4k

greed (noun) — intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...pwp, unprotected sex, missionary, riding, fingering, f!receiving, deep throat, m!receiving, finger sucking

inspired by red sex (re-strung) [rakhi singh]

cherry here!...had fun writing this one teheee. it's a long one, so definitely take breaks in between and enjoy. missed you guys!

Twirling your tongue around the bright pink straw, you blink blankly, quietly taking in the conversation that occurs in front of you. You should probably talk a bit, you remember thinking. Smile, at least, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to lie—you didn't want to be here.  

“I thought you hated pineapple?” 

Turning, you shrug half-heartedly over at Lando. “It makes my mouth itch,” you mumble, not enjoying a single sip of the smoothie. Well, except for the whipped cream. Taking a lick, your eyes stay connected onto his blue ones as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t drink it, then,” he tries, but you simply turn a blind eye, facing the complete opposite direction. From where you're sitting, you spot a group of kids playing jump rope. Even when one of them falls with a loud splat and starts to cry, you continue to stare.

“Oh no,” a soft voice gasps.  As soon as you hear it, you grind your teeth, hearing a slight crack immediately. “Poor baby.”

You like to think of yourself as an even person. Everyone who enters your life deserves a fair chance. You’ll get to know them—befriend them, perhaps—and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but no one can say you never tried.

But oh, how you hated Lily Zneimer.

The worst part of all is that there isn’t really a single reason for your sudden distaste towards her. On paper, you two should be the best of friends, but the one thing holding you back is sitting right in front of you.

Oscar clicks his tongue, a nice tick coming through as his sharp brows raise with surprise as he watches the scene unfold. He, too, sort of remains as stoic as you, but the one difference is that he has a bit more empathy. You lack a lot of that, you’ll be the first to admit. 

The cries continue, the young boy's parents suddenly alert by now as they run towards their child. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he says, squinting his eyes due to the bright sun. “It builds character.”

“Getting hurt?” Lily asks, frowning as she gently shoves his shoulder. “You really do have a heart made of ice.”

This gets a snicker out of your boyfriend, making you sigh, instantly checking out, but Lando is as happy as can be. While he enjoys the moment, you lack interest in it, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Australian was the one that invited you both out for drinks, then you would have happily been tucked away in bed. Make good use of the hotel perks and whatnot. 

The brown eyed driver swings a hand behind his girlfriend's chair, playfully tugging her hair, making her blush and making you recoil with disgust. Not that you ever show it, but you definitely feel it. “Maybe I do, but only you can make it melt.”

That’s enough to call it a day. Standing abruptly, the chair squeaks against the pavement as you share a tight lipped smile. All at once, their eyes look up at you as you force a yawn. “I think I’m going to head up now. Thanks for the invite,” you say. 

Lily pouts subtly, blue eyes round and hazy. “So soon? It’s still early.”

You nod, sparing her small smile, but deep within, the sound of her sweet voice begins to irritate you to the point you think you might snap. “The sun’s got me tired. I just need to lay down a bit.” Leaning forward, you peck Lando’s cheek, warm and sandy. “But I'll see you later, yeah?” 

“Sure,” she squeaks, waving numbly as they watch you walk away—practically fleeting, really. Humming sadly, the British girl looks down onto her lap, toying with her bracelets. “I don’t think she likes me much,” she mutters, wincing sheepishly. 

Oscar frowns. “That’s not true…”

Lando frantically nods, feeling bad for Lily and her first encounter with you being a total bust. Come to think of it, ever since the blue eyed girl has been around, you’ve been quite distant. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.” Lie. “She just needs to recharge, that’s all.”

-

You end up spending the next few days locked up in yours and Lando’s room. You avoid the paddock at all costs because you’re really not in the mood to see anyone—especially her. The British driver tried his best to get you out from these four walls, but gave up shortly after you blamed it on a migraine. You haven’t had one of those in years, but he learns to respect your decision. You do promise to be there for his race, though.

And as expected, you see her. Sat perfectly with her legs crossed, the young girl beams, motioning for you to join her on the open chair. At first you act like you don’t see her, preferring to stay standing for the next few hours rather than being pushed up next to her, but when she calls your name, you curse beneath your breath before making your way. 

“Hey,” you cheer, hugging her briefly before taking a seat. 

A giggle. “Hey. I heard you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Huh?”

Lily blinks. “Lando said—”

In one quick motion, you click your fingers, nodding along. Right—Lando had lied on your behalf. It completely slipped your mind. Letting out a muffled groan, you wince theatrically, hoping she buys it. She does, worry quickly taking over her gentle gaze. “I have, yeah, I have.” Cheer’s erupt as the camera pans over to the fan zone, then back to the drivers that line up for the National Anthem. “But I'm much better now!”

Her concern slowly melts away as she smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

You would have not traveled with Lando to this week's race if you had known she would be here. Usually, she’s not, but you almost feel as if you know everything about her from how much Oscar talks about her. It gets exhausting hearing the same stories being told over and over again, as if she was the best thing to come around. Was it really that hard to just not bring her up?

But alas, you are here, and so is she. 

It feels like an eternity slowly goes by, so you’re quick to dart out the garage as you make your way towards the podium. The good thing is that she doesn’t need to because Oscar secured a lucky fourth place. Close, but not close enough. 

Running towards you after a round of media, Lando pecks your lips. He smells like a mix of champagne and sweat, not a completely unpleasant scent. He wiggles his brows. “Proud?”

You grin, eyes crinkling just the same as his. “Super.” Another kiss. “You were great out there.”

A subtle shade of red burns his nose as he smiles widely, pulling you towards the direction of McLaren Hospitality, leaving you to follow him as you admire the way everyone looks at him the same way you do. 

You like that he’s a winner. You like that you’re dating the winner. And that’s why you admire him, because he gives you the right to brag about him by simply being his girlfriend. The kind everyone wishes to be. Entering the familiar orange motorhome, you two are caught at a stop as soon as Zak calls out for Lando who turns curiously. 

“My man!” he cheers, making you take a step back and letting them have their moment. You listen for the first few minutes, but when it looks like the congratulatory might run deep, you claim a seat on the nearby sofa, scrolling through your phone to kill time. At some point, you look up to see them bid goodbye, sighing tiredly as you make your way up. Zak grins from ear to ear, pointing at you with nothing but radiant energy. “See you there!”

With that, he walks away, leaving you two alone once again. Raising a sharp brow, you tap Lando’s shoulder with confusion. “What does he mean by that?”

“He’s rented a yacht for the team to celebrate today's win,” he explains, guiding you towards the privacy of his room with a large hand on your lower back. “You know him—he likes to go all out.”

You hum, still walking up in front of him. “I figured you would want to go clubbing…”

There’s a cloudy sigh behind you as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I mean, yeah, I do, but we should probably skip that and do this instead.” Reaching to twist the knob, you pause, turning to face him with a surprised expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, shaking your head. “Look at you maturing. You see, my Lando would have never preferred a classy yacht party instead of a trashy club.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’ve changed.”

“Right,” you tease, finally opening the door, but as soon as you do, the room next to you squeaks, indicating someone exiting. Oscar and Lily come to a halt as soon as they spot you both. Your lips open in the smallest of gaps as they smile politely. 

“Congratulations,” the British girl is the first to break the silence as she goes in for a quick side hug, one that Lando accepts without missing a beat. “You must be over the moon.”

“I am,” your boyfriend lets out, still not used to the feeling of being first. A beat. “Hey, did Zak mention anything about—”

“The yacht party?” Oscar fills in with a loopy grin. Lando snickers, nodding at his guess. He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we can’t. I have to drive Lily to the airport.”

Intrigued by the fact, your brows dart up. “Ah, no way—you’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling tiredly. “I have a few tests lined up for next week, and I can’t miss them.”

“Shame,” you hum, but the relief of not having her around anymore makes you feel a thousand times lighter. “I was going to suggest grabbing dinner next week…”

“Really?” Lando and Lily question in sync, both equally as surprised as one another. On the flipside, Oscar stands with an unrecognizable expression, making you avoid even looking at him because something about it somehow convinces you that he can see right past your lie.

Coughing awkwardly, you bob your head, catching the glimmer in her blue eyes as she holds her breath, almost. Something about it makes you feel bad, but just for a split second. “Yes, really, but it looks like we got a bit unlucky.”

Swiftly, Lily turns to face Oscar with a helpless expression, as if pleading for aid, but for him it was an easy decision. “You can’t skip out on exams,” he whispers lowly, but still clear enough for you to hear. “You know that.”

And sure—she does—but ever since she got here, she’s felt so out of place. Not with the team, not with two McLaren drivers as a duo, but rather with you. And now this? Any opportunity to have you as a friend is as good as gold in her eyes.

And to be quite honest, you didn’t expect for someone as truthful as Lily to lie to their professor in a lengthy email, claiming to be severely down with the flu in order to stay a couple extra days and catch that unpromising dinner you had made up as some way to get her to think you’d miss not having her around. This was your reality and you just had to deal with it.

But Oscar? 

Watching you carefully as you hug Lily back when she leaps with excitement into your arms, he squints with subtle suspicion in your character. Something in your rigidness and mannequin smile makes him want to pull the British girl away from you, feeling the need to protect his girlfriend's innocence. 

Smiling softly over her shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Oscar, making your stomach churn. His eyes remain on you for a second longer before sharing a smile of his own.

Yup, you think to yourself. 

He knows.

_

A week goes by at a snail's place. 

The four of you fly together to the next continent with nothing but fake enthusiasm. Well, fake from you, and unbeknownst, fake from Oscar, too.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust you completely. In hindsight, you haven’t done anything wrong, but everytime you and Lily are together—which is most of the week—it feels like you have. Maybe it had something to do with the sinister glares you’d send her way when you thought no one was looking, or the fact that you’d have to take a heavy breath in preparation every time she’d greet you with a warm hug. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was seeing something that wasn’t there, but that doesn’t mean he’d be at ease for the rest of the week. 

Hence, dinner. 

You find yourself forced to make a reservation at one of the fanciest cuisine restaurants close to where you’re staying and that itself was annoying. You shouldn’t be doing any of this—she shouldn’t even be here.

Smiling gingerly, the British girl let out a small giggle at some joke Lando made. By the looks of it, it’s pretty funny, so you numbly follow her lead, though you have yet to know what it was. “You must be laughing all the time,” Lily notes, blue eyes focused on you with wonder. You hum, pursing your lips with uncertainty. She giggles harder. “Well because of how funny he is.”

Lando claps once, making you flinch in return. “Thank you! It’s about damn time someone appreciates my humor.”

“I do appreciate it,” you defend, slowly losing your patience. Licking your lips, you look back towards Lily who remains with a smile. “Don’t listen to him, he just likes the attention.”

“That I can agree on,” Oscar adds, cracking a grin of his own. Suddenly, you’re all into the discussion. The Australian sneers childishly. “You can’t seem to live a single moment without making things about yourself.”

“Oscar,” Lily warns, faint pink painting her pale skin. “Be nice.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Lando says, waving her off like it’s no big deal—which it’s not. He leans back against his chair, flipping his teammate off who scoffs lightheartedly. “This is how we talk. Right, Osc?”

“Right.”

Somewhere in between dessert, while you’re in the middle of licking your spoon clean, the invitation that came to ruin your life, comes up. Lily clears her throat nervously, suddenly worried by the thought of you turning her down. “I was meaning to ask…” Puzzled, you keep your eyes on her, awaiting her next words. She shrugs sheepishly. “Well, I graduate this summer, and Oscar is throwing me a party up in North Carolina…” She trails off, gathering her words. “I was wondering if you two would like to come?”

“Oh,” Lando's voice comes through like a muffle, mouth full of cheesecake. He swallows, blue eyes flickering between the couple and his girlfriend who remains with a blank expression, metal spoon still in place. “I mean—yeah. Right?”

Unfreezing, you place the utensil down onto your plate, smiling weakly. “Uh…yeah.” Lily grins, letting out a breath of relief, making Oscar frown over the realization that your response mattered so much to her. You nod robotically. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” Lily cheers, beaming like a kid on Christmas Day. “And don’t worry about spending on a hotel—we’ve got you covered.”

You blink, bewildered. “You do?” 

She nods. “Of course, we do! You’re our guests, you’ll be staying with us.”

Your boyfriend smiles faintly. “That’s kind of you, but it’s really no problem. We wouldn’t want to overcrowd.”

“Nonsense,” the Australian speaks up, shaking his head, brown strands of hair swinging in the slightest. “We have plenty of room. All of our family and friends are already staying in the hotel nearby—it’d be nice to have a bit of company.” His eyes soften, making your heart beat a little faster. “What do you say?”

It feels like he’s looking directly at you—chocolate orbs as sweet as can be. As if nothing else exists in this moment if it’s not you or him. But in reality, his attention is focused on your boyfriend, awaiting his response.

Not yours.

Flustered, you poke Lando’s leg beneath the table, hoping he takes the hint. Blue eyes flicker towards your direction for a millisecond before returning with a nod. “Looks like you have two roomies.”

Lily squeals, smiling brightly as Oscar’s lips remain in a thin line, his version of a smile. 

And if he could turn back time…

He really fucking would.

-

Once the season ends, everyone is on a high. Lando for coming in second in the Driver’s Championship and for bringing in the Constructors Championship for the first time in years, and Oscar for the latter. Regardless, it was an outstanding season for the two of them. 

You and the Brit end up flying in a few days later due to going back home to pack a few more necessities, but once you’ve got that all figured out, you find yourselves in the middle of a heatstroke, making you second guess all your life's choices all at once. 

“It feels as if my skin’s melting off,” you groan, fanning yourself with the roadmap, because as it came, satellites are utter shit when it comes to where you’re staying. Lando tries to convince you that having no internet for a few weeks isn’t all that bad, but as soon as a twenty minute drive turns into a one hour drive due to getting lost without the guidance of a GPS, he regrets his words. You roll your eyes, narrating as he finally pulls up to the driveway of what appears to be the best looking house in all of North Carolina. 

He whistles. “If it weren’t so hot during the summer, I’d definitely move here.”

Scoffing, you exit the car rental, looking up at the navy blue house where green ivy hangs. “We are not moving here. I’d rather die.”

“Fair,” he mumbles as he makes his way towards the front door, you right on his heels. Swinging the door open, you two are instantly hit with the fresh gust of air. “Thank God,” Lando moans, loving the fact that the AC is the only thing preventing him from fainting. 

Pushing him in, you make sure to close the door behind you as you shut your eyes with sweet relief. Somewhere towards the end of the hall, you hear shoes squeak against the wooden tiles. Lily waves, hair up in a similar ponytail as yours, as she smiles as warm as the weather that nearly cost you your life. “You made it!”

“We sure did,” you respond, gritting your teeth in order to prevent yourself from letting out some snarky remark. Not that she deserves it, of course she doesn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Pointing back towards the wooden door, you wince apologetically. “Sorry to barge in. Someone didn’t bother knocking.”

Lando makes a face, then turns to the blue eyed girl with a playful smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Lily?”

She shakes her head, pursuing her lips with delight. “Not at all. We left it open knowing you two would show up. We’ve been fixing the guest bedroom for the past hour and we didn’t want to run the risk of not hearing you knock, so…I guess it all worked out just fine.”

“See? Lily says it worked out just fine,” your boyfriend says smugly as you roll your eyes, not at all impressed with his sudden cockines. “Where is Oscar, by the way?”

Lily signals upstairs, then blushes. “Do you mind helping me grab a few things from the car, Lando?” A shy chuckle. “It’s just we went out for some party essentials last night, but we were too tired to bring them in, and the box is too heavy, and Oscar is pretty busy, and I’d hate to bother him, and—”

“Sure,” Lando cuts off her rambling. “That way I can grab our suitcases, too.”

“Fantastic,” she hoots, dusting her hands against her shorts as she grabs a set of car keys from the kitchen table. Turning to you, she grimaces. “Do you mind checking up on Oscar?”

Your plump lips part, a line of dehydration hung upon them. “I would, but I should help Lando—”

“It’s okay,” your boyfriend fills in. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Lily pleads silently, brows drawn in together. “You’d really be doing me a favor. It’s just that he was in the middle of fixing the duvet and he tends to run out of patience if he doesn’t get it right away.” A chuckle. “Please?”

Which is how you find yourself in a room, alone with the one person you probably shouldn’t be alone with, but find yourself wishing that were always the case. Alone with one another, that is. Gently knocking on the already open door feels like the right thing to do, so you do just that. Alerted by the sound, the Australian’s head jerks up, brown eyes caught against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, like some greet. “Lily sent me,” you find yourself explaining as he sighs, resting on the unmade bed. Leaning against the doorframe, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

He huffs. “Of course she did.” A snort. “Sorry your room still isn’t ready. It's just that, I, uh…can't seem to get this right,” he admits, shyly scratching the back of his neck as he motions towards the unmade mess. “Lily always helps, but she’s a bit busy right now, and I'd hate to bother her, and—”

“I can help.”

A pause, then: “Oh, don't worry, you don't need to do that. You’re our guests.”

Chuckling, you shake your head, already making a move to grab the sheets. Taking hold of one corner, you signal for him to do the same, the Australian instantly catching on and taking hold of the opposite side. Aligning it, you look up at him, watching as he focuses on your hands and repeats the order. You smile, going for more and doing it all over again. Once it's perfectly laid out, you take a step back. “Not too shabby.”

“Huh,” he muttered, blinking with amazement. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you say, fixing the mountain of pillows before taking it in with a gentle smile. “Lando’s excited to be here.”

Oscar looks up, neat brows raising. “Is he?”

“Mhm,” you hum, finally connecting your gaze to his. From this distance—close—you note the faint trace of cologne that hugs him, along with a thin layer of sweat. Grinding your molars, you fume silently within you as you catch it—her perfume. You wonder how close she had to have been in order for it to imprint on him, but as soon as you ponder for too long about it, you shake your head, acting as if you’re brushing away some invisible dust. “He’s looking forward to jet skiing.”

A deep chuckle. Pressing his back against the wall, he crosses his arm, giving you a clear view of his muscles that pulse like the world's biggest temptation. If you had the chance—just one—you’d kiss them the way you've fantasized for so long now.

He opens his mouth, about to say something that's going to change everything amongst you two, but bails at the last minute, shaking his head as if he barely caught himself. Intrigued, you raise a neat brow. “What's wrong?” you ask, feeling far too curious. 

Oscar tsks. “No, uh, it's nothing.” A beat, then he looks up, squinting his eyes skeptically, as if you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. He's looking at you the same way he did that day you lied about planning the dinner, and that itself makes your stomach dip. Suddenly, you're not as interested in finding out what he has to say anymore. “Lily loves you, you know that?”

Not what you were expecting. “She does?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, orbs still trained on you. You want him to look away—you need him to look away. Pink lips curl into something of a scoff. The Australian’s eyes darken, making you freeze with trepidation. “She thinks you’re great.” Opening his arms like some grand gesture, he motions towards the lively room. “I mean, look at her. She’s trying her best to please you.”

Something about the way he says it makes you feel as if he’s not that fond of Lily’s behavior. As if you don’t deserve her kindness, even just a sprinkle of it. Pursing your lips, you rock against the heels of your feet. “And I appreciate that, I really do.” A hint of hesitation. “And I like Lily, as well—”

A raw chuckle. Blinking, you catch him shaking his head, brown eyes shut in disbelief, and when he opens them once again, it’s not that kind-hearted and easy-going Australian you’ve come to know—no. He’s broad, and cold, and guarded. 

“No you don’t.”

You gulp, laughing awkwardly as you rub your forearm, feeling the heat of shame radiate off your body. “What are you talking about? She’s super sweet—”

“I never said she wasn’t,” he cuts you off again, this time a bit harsher. Enough to take a step back. Your heart races times a million at this point, palms moist with sweat. “I never said she wasn’t sweet—I don’t doubt that even for a second. But I know that you’re lying, and I know that you hate her.” A beat. “Why?”

“I do like her,” you continue to insist, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “What makes you even think otherwise?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he says, accent sharper than usual. “Like you wish her the worst—I know what hate looks like.”

This time, you grab what’s left of your courage, and look at him straight in the eyes, not backing down. “Yeah? And what does hate look like?”

“You’re looking at it.”

It’s as if an ice cold bucket of water is thrown at you with no alert. His insinuation makes you want to recoil, but if you do, then he’d know he’s gotten to you, and if he gets to you, then he’ll figure the rest of it out. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” He smiles tauntingly, inching close and tilting his head as he opens his mouth. “I just don’t like you, that’s all. I’m not cruel enough to hate.” Cruel. He’s calling you cruel. He knows, therefore, you’re cruel. The word itself shouldn’t affect you this much, but it does. Narrowing your eyes, you push him away, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he cocks his head in question with little to no surprise. “What? You don’t like hearing the truth of what you are? Did you really think you were a good person?”

“Look,” you finally speak, glaring. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but I don’t hate Lily. For God sakes, I barely even know her!”

“Exactly!” he shouts back, breaking. “Which is why I’m more than confused! What has she done to you?”

Have possession over you, you think to yourself as you pant, blink with defeat. I hate her because what she’s done to me is have possession over you, and that’s not fair.

“I—”

“Hey,” a soft voice melts into the room, Lily coming into view, cheeks flushed. “Is everything alright in here? We thought we heard yelling.” 

Standing behind her, frowning over her shoulder, Lando stares with a lost expression. Everything indicates that there had been some sort of altercation, but the smiles you two wear are enough to try and convince them otherwise. Walking towards her, Oscar wraps his arm around her waist, pecking her temple as she blinks, still worried. “What? That’s absurd. We were simply talking. Weren’t we?”

It takes you a minute to register that he’s talking to you, so when you do answer, it’s nothing but a whisper. “Yeah… just, yeah.” You shake your head, blinking hastily. “We were just talking.”

“Are you sure?” Lando asks, pushing past the couple as he rushes to you, large hand grabbing your wrist softly as he looks at you. His gaze flickers momentarily toward Oscar, as if accusing him for doing something, in return, making the Australian frown for his sudden distrust. As if he’s the bad guy. 

You nod, plump lips formed into a thin line. “Yup,” you say, attention flickering down to where Oscar keeps Lily secure against his touch. As if you’re the bad guy. You chuckle, shrugging. “He was thanking me for helping him do something so easy as setting a bed.”

Oscar clenches his jaw. “Yeah. Thanking you.”

Anyone who knows you, knows that you’re a decent human being. There’s not much to contradict that. But no one will ever know you the way you know yourself. Because if they did?

They’d find out that there was no one greedier….

Than you.

-

Dinner that night is homemade pizza. Lily followed a recipe. 

It’s quite delicious, sure, and you’re able to make that note due to that one small bite you had before you ditch it for your mimosa. Lando tries to get you to eat, but you gently promise him that you’re just not that hungry. You see the way Oscar stares, feeling bad for his girlfriend who spent hours making this for you. She excuses herself, rushing towards the kitchen as the Australian apologizes, following after her.

Turning abruptly, the British boy huffs, causing commotion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“This again?” you groan. “I already told you—nothing. Drop it.”

“What’d he say to you?” he questions, a layer of curiosity making an appearance. “Did he say something to offend you?”

“No,” you hum against your glass. “He did not.”

“Did you say something to offend him?” he switches the inquiry, making you glare. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

Lando sighs, relaxing against his chair once again. He takes a bite, swallows, then takes another. “I get the sense that you’re keeping something from me—you’re not like that.”

Actually, you are. He just doesn’t know it. Placing a hand over his, you hum, calming him down as he connects his gaze onto yours, eyes as soft as jello. “He might’ve lost his temper on me a bit.”

“What?” he screeches, making you hush him.

“Let me finish,” you hiss. He nods, curls bouncing. “He couldn’t get the sheets to stay in place. Remember how Lily said he tends to lose patience because of that?” Another nod. You shrug. “Well, that was it. We just didn’t want you two to make a big deal out of nothing. Much like now,” you point out, spotting a subtle blush threatening his cheeks. 

“Well, forgive me for looking out for you,” he sings. “I care, you know?”

“And I thank you for that, darling, but you can let go of it now, right?”

“Definitely.”

He doesn’t. Matter of fact, as soon as the couple makes their way back, it’s the first thing he brings up, teasing his teammate who blinks, confused, then: “Oh. Yeah. Right. I had a bit of a moment where I couldn’t get the…yeah. That was it.”

Lily rolls her blue eyes. “Didn’t I warn ya?”

You giggle. “You did, you really did.”

There isn’t much to do from that point on, the sun has set and the moon hangs as bright as headlights. Lando knocks out after a much needed shower, and while you can’t sleep with wet hair, you settle on fixing yourself up a tea now that it’s cooled down. 

Walking barefoot towards the lake, you hum, finding peace with the way crickets sing. Blue, gentle waves sway back and forth as you look beyond, mind at peace. That is until you hear a small cough. Startled, you search for the culprit and you find him, laid down on the grass. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Oscar sighs. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.”

“Or ever?” you offer, but he doesn’t find you humor all that entertaining. Making your way, you find a space next to him. “You can’t ignore me, you know that? We’re about to spend a month together. That, and you’re my boyfriend's teammate. I see you on track.”

He disregards the fact that you're right, sitting up instead, laying his arms over his bent knees. “What’s your game?”

“I don’t have one,” you say softly. “I’m just here to have fun—it’s summer.”

A scoff. “I’m serious—what do you want from us?”

There was a point in time when you first met the Australian where you remember thinking: this is a boy. His arms were twigs, his neck was small, and his fireproofs fit him loosely.

Fastword, a year later: everything has taken a turn. Oscar Piastri has matured, and now—now you want him. 

“My parents had my sister three years after they had me.” Oscar cocks his head, puzzled as to why you’re telling him this. You continue, occasionally sipping on your tea. “And the months leading to her birth, they always told me how lucky I’d feel to have her once she was born. Then she was,” you say. “And you know what I felt?”

“Lucky?” he finds himself guessing quietly. 

You shake your head, causing his brows to jump up with surprise. “I love her, I do, but I think that was the moment I realized I didn’t like to share. I wanted my parents to stay my parents, and not hers. I wanted my grandparents to stay my grandparents, and not hers. And…once we grew up and we were old enough to date—I wanted her boyfriends to like me more than they liked her.”

Quiet, his eyes linger with disgust. “I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want.” This time, you look at him, and it hits him all at once: you want him. You smile, like what you’re saying is funny and not fucked. A giggle. “You’re a smart individual, Oscar. Do you get what I’m saying?”

He does. And it makes his stomach knot. 

“I’m in love with Lily,” he states, as if that will make you back off. “I’m. In. Love. With. Lily.”

But he can tell you don’t care. You never have, and you never will. And the fact that she has you is why you hate her. He sees that now. 

Standing, your knees are at his eye level, forcing him to look away, forcing him to look up. You hold power in this stance, and he’s basically at your knees—worshiping you. He doesn’t like that. In one fast movement, he jumps up, towering over you, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. And he realizes he can never win when it comes to you because it seems you like that too. 

He gulps. You grin.

“Doesn't matter.”

-

You’re playing a dangerous game.

It starts early in the morning and ends late at night. At times, he feels like a kid hiding behind his mum's skirt, practically sticking to Lily like superglue, and normally she loves that, but with how busy she is with graduation, she pushes him off most times now. It’s always: Oscar, no or Oscar, what now? He can’t seem to get it right.

“Why don’t you go jet skiing with Lando?” you speak up and he finds it weird that you’re helping him out. The British girl nods. Yeah! Why don’t you? He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

They come back with fresh sunburns and a couple new freckles. Lando’s curls are hard from the sea salt, so he gives you a quick kiss, running up stairs for a quick shower. He’s been having lots of those. Not even a minute later, Oscar goes on to do the same. 

Somewhere along the line, you hear your name, and you know what that means. Rolling your eyes, you look over at the blue eyed girl. “I bet you he forgot his towels—”

I forgot my towels!

Giggling, Lily shakes her head, muttering ‘boys’, then signals towards her room. “I just washed some, you can grab them from our cabinet.”

“Thanks,” you chirp, making your way. While yours and Lando’s room sits at the far right side of the hall, Oscar’s and Lily’s is on the left. And you never meant to walk in on him, not at all, but you did. 

Swinging the door open, you’re caught face to face with a shirtless Oscar, dying his wet hair with a blue towel. He freezes. “W-what are you doing here?” he stutters.

You try not to stare, you really do, but you can’t help it. His body is solid, chiseled, even. His skin is moist from lathering lotion and that’s enough to make your head spin. And yet, you don’t let him see that. Pushing past him, you dig your hand deep into the cabinet, pulling two fresh towels, similar to his. He frowns.

“Just grabbing towels for my boyfriend.” Smile. “See you.”

Is this how you get people to fall for you? By not seeming desperate? Because while he knows that you want him, you sure don’t show it, and that definitely confuses him.

That same night, you four are watching a movie in the living room. Cherry Falls to be exact. The entire way through, you’re curled into Lando’s chest under a blanket. On the other side of the long couch, Lily and Oscar sit as straight as can be, but his arm remains over her shoulder, keeping her safe. 

You’re not jealous over something like that, but when she flinches during certain scenes and he comforts her, that gets you. “Hey,” you start, whispering into the Brit’s ear. Green eyes are stuck on the screen, nodding robotically. Yeah? You kiss his warm skin, making him jump. “Why don’t you and I go to bed?”

“Bed?” he asks, slow and unsure where you’re headed. “Already? But…we’re halfway through.” You yawn, rubbing a hand along his thigh. He blushes, impressed with how cool you’re able to play it. Coughing, he nods excitedly. “I think we’re done for the day,” he announces, a bit too loud.

Lily pauses the movie, tilting her head curiously. “Aw, but we’re halfway through…”

“I know,” you add, smiling apologetically. “But I’m just so tired.”

“As am I!” Lando cuts you off, voice squeaky. He shakes his head, blinking hastily, then clears his throat. “But please, don’t let us stop you from finishing the movie.”

“Yeah,” you quip, getting up, about to walk away when Lando reaches for your hips, keeping you in front of him. It doesn’t take much to feel his bulge pressed against your ass. He laughs awkwardly. “We still have that picnic tomorrow, don’t we?”

“We do,” Lily cheers, smiling widely. “Oh, I’m so excited!” Turning to face the Australian, who hasn’t said much up until now, just stares blankly, she taps his knee. “We should probably go to sleep, too.”

“No!” Lando yelps, blushing bright red as the blue eyed girl frowns. “Keep on watching. Keep the telly on. In fact…” He reaches for the control. “Turn up the volume.” 

“Great idea,” Lily says, pursing her lips as the numbers go up on the screen. “Alright then, you two go rest.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking carefully in front of the British boy who still tries his best to hide behind you, waving sheepishly. “See you in the morning!”

Oscar really underestimated how naive Lily can be. While she was wide-eyed enough to believe that you two were ready to knock out, he knew the truth. Pecking her cheek, he makes a stand, making his girlfriend pout. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna finish the movie?”

“We are,” he promises, smiling gently. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.”

Running up the stairs, two steps at a time, he rushes to your side of the hall, quickly identifying small moans. He stops dead in his tracks, heart stuck in his throat, and he doesn’t know why. 

Fuck, baby, he hears Lando groan. Oscar grimaces, shutting his eyes with discomfort. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t have his ear pressed against the door, intruding in your guys’ private sex life. 

He shouldn't be bothered so much. Or at all.

Lando, you whine, surely writhing with pleasure. The sound makes him break a sweat, makes his brain go fuzzy. He can’t even think properly. And he knows this is wrong—on so many levels—but what’s worse is that he wishes Lando were dead. 

Skin to skin contact makes his jaw clench with anger. The fact that he knows what you feel like makes him want to barge in and rip you two apart. And it dawns on him—why does he care so much?

“No,” he mutters, taking a step back as if the door were made out of lava. He blinks hastily, shaking his head harshly until he feels his brain jump from side to side. “God, no…”

It’s official—you have his attention.

Without even making a move.

-

You feel his gaze on you. You don’t even have to look and see to know that it’s him and not Lando. Lando’s gaze doesn’t burn, but his? His zaps. Looking up from where you rested on the red gingham blanket Lily rolled onto the fresh grass, you squinted behind your glasses, making eye contact with the Australian. 

You know you have him.

Reaching into your bag, you grab your sunscreen, squirting it onto your legs, making sure to lather it on in a teasing manner. You rub up and down, slow and steady. Briskly, he looks away, paying attention to his teammate who continues to ramble on and on about nothing in particular. 

Not as particular as you.

“I love having you two around,” Lily says, ripping your gaze away like one would their band aid. She hums, gingerly fixing her floppy hat and motioning towards your sunscreen. Go right ahead. “Thank you,” she replies sweetly. A beat. “I have a favor to ask.” This get’s your attention. Furrowing your brows, you nod, urging her to continue. “So, I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

“What is it?”

Lily blushes, as if she’s too embarrassed to admit. “Remember how I skipped a few exams in order to extend my stay the first time we met? In order to have that dinner with both you and Lando?”

“Yeah,” you say, still uncertain about where this might possibly lead. “I think I do.”

She cringes. “I never took them.”

“What?”

“I know! And now my advisor is telling me I won’t be able to graduate if I don’t find a way to take them, and I don’t know what to do!” She groans, bumping the edge of her palm against her forehead. “Oh God, Oscar is going to be so mad at me.”

“Okay, calm down,” you soothe her. “Have you tried reaching out to your professor?”

“Not yet,” she mumbles, tears pooling the corner of her eyes, making you feel just a dash of pity. “Should I?”

“Yes,” you respond quickly. “You should. Ask them if there’s any way to take those exams. Say you’re sorry—like really sorry. They have to be able to tell that you never meant to skip out in the first place.”

“I didn’t,” she squeaks, voice wavering. “I’m not usually like this, but…” Her blue eyes flicker down to her lap, fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. “I just really want to fix this and graduate on time. Everyone is counting on that!”

“You’re going to walk that stage, Lily, alright? You just need to keep your eye on the prize.” Sighing, you unlock your phone, handing it to her. “E-mail them right now.”

“O-okay,” she sutter, eyes softening. “Thank you for being such a great friend.”

You blink. “Oh. Yeah—anytime.”

She finds privacy back in the parking lot, leaving you alone with the boys deep in the horizon. It’s peak golden-hour, so they look significantly tan. You smile, lying back down, glasses hugging the curve of your nose. You’re halfway asleep at one point, but as soon as you feel a droplet fall onto you, you peek an eye open.

“Where’s Lily?” Oscar questions, furrowing his dark brows.

You roll your eyes. “She went to get something from the car.” She probably wouldn’t like Oscar knowing the truth, and you’re not one to tell it. You wave your hand dismissively. “Now move—you’re blocking the sun.”

Grinding his teeth, the Australian scoots, but his eyes remain down on you. You lay tan now, white bikini standing out against your skin. Brown eyes trails down your legs, spotting an ankle bracelet. He hums. “What’s it say?”

You sigh. “Could you be more specific?”

He kicks your feet, making you lean against your elbows, staring at him coldly. Noticing what he was referring to, you lick your lips. “It's the number four.”

“Four?” he asks plainly. “Why four?”

“I’m really trying to relax,” you spit, taking your sunglasses off and glaring. “You’d be doing me a huge favor if you just left me alone.”

Aren’t you supposed to want him? Aren’t you the one who's supposed to be chasing after him? 

The tips of his ears burn bright red, and not from the sun. Seeing as he wasn’t leaving, you let out a heavy breath. “He asked me out on April fourth—fourth month, fourth day. His racing number is four.” You make a face. “Do you get it or do you need further explanation?”

He ignores the dig. “Why an ankle bracelet, though? Why not a ring or a necklace?”

Your red lips part open, then close. His guts twist with jealousy once he comes to the realization. The reason it’s an ankle bracelet its so that anytime he fucks you, legs dangled over his shoulders, he could admire it. Seeing as he figured it out without having you respond makes you blush. 

“Ankle bracelets are my favorite.”

His eyes darken. “You know what? Next time you two fuck, why don’t you moan a little less loud?”

Your neat brows lift up with surprise. “How are you so sure we already did?”

He pauses, clearly caught on spying. He swallows. “You sound like a pornstar.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” You laugh. “Lando doesn’t seem to mind. In fact…” Biting down on your bottom lip, you blink innocently up at him as his breathing pattern becomes uneven. “He fucking loves it.”

God—what were you doing to him?

Just as he’s about to speak, Lando calls out for him and Lily calls out for you. Where are the beers, mate? The Australian spins back and lets out a lousy smile. “On it, give me a second!”

As he turns again, you’re already up on your feet, adjusting your bikini and throwing Lando’s shirt over your head. The sight alone irks Oscar more than he’d like to admit. “I should go see what Lily needs,” you sing teasingly. Spinning on your heels, you stop, cocking your head to the side and giving him one last glance. “Oh, and Oscar?”

You point down to his hard on imprinted on his short. Horrified, heat rushes to his cheeks.

“Don't get so excited over nothing.”

-

What appears to be the first time in her life, Lily lies to Oscar. 

They need some last minute measurements for my cap and gown, she explains, puffing her cheeks as if the thought of flying back home is too much of a tassel, and not a necessity—she has to go back and take her exams. She had received an extension, but the only catch was that she had to take them in person, as originally planned. I’ll be back in a week. 

The Australian tries to tag along with his girlfriend because the thought of being left alone to third wheel a couple who probably fucks 24/7 is too unbearble. But as expected, Lily declines, claiming it’d be rude for both hostesses to leave their guests behind. And all would’ve been fine if Lando’s father hadn't broken his clavicle playing rugby. 

“Do you really have to leave?” you sigh, zipping his suitcase. 

He nods. “Mum would kill me if I didn't show up.”

“I’ll miss you.”

A soft smile. Pecking your lips, his thumb rubs against your cheek lovingly. “I’ll be back before you know it. Time will fly by.”

Which is how you and Oscar find yourselves sharing a large house with a million desires. He's quick to note that you have a thing for summer dresses—and so does he, apparently. Jaw clenched, he carefully watches as you cut up a variety of fruit, humming as you prepare yourself a plate. You hum a soft melody, making him more and more intrigued to know what it was. 

“Love in the Morning. Ennio Morricone,” he hears you say, munching on a slice of watermelon, walking towards the living room. There, on T.V., plays an unknown reality show, but he's not paying much attention, either way. No, his gaze is stuck on you, focused on the way you stretch your legs onto the coffee table, the rest of your upper body resting against the comfy couch. You swallow, reaching for a piece of mango. “One of my favorite instrumentals.”

It's one of his, too, and not because he knows it by heart, but because you do. Because you sound so beautiful, like a siren, when you hum it. He wonders if you're aware of the power you hold. Though, the way you ignore him lets him know that you do. 

Against the sunlight, the one that peeks through the open window and summer skies, your ankle bracelet shines, blinding him, almost. He feels his chest grow tight—so much so, that it hurts to breathe regularly—and he has to remind himself that this isn’t normal—this isn’t normal. 

Since when did you matter this much to him? Since when did you affect him this much? 

Without a second thought, he claims a spot next to you on the couch, reaching for a berry and popping it in his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, somehow satisfied by this small action of his. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. In all your time of knowing the Australian, he never once bothered to get to know you—really get to know you. He never cared, not even in the slightest. But now, in a turn of events, he does. Squinting suspiciously—teasingly—you shake your head, vanilla perfume radiating off your skin. 

“No.”

His lips turn downwards. “No?”

“No,” you repeat, flipping through the channels, pretending he wasn’t even there. A click. “Why should I?”

Because suddenly, you’re the only one in my mind.

He bites down on his tongue, tasting a hint of blood. “I’m not into you, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I never said you were,” you say, a bored tone evident. 

Oscar’s hands get clammy, thankful for having them pressed against his lap. Maybe he can still make a run for it. To his room. Back to Australia. He doesn’t even care where, exactly, but far, far, far from you. That way, he wouldn’t feel so grossed out in wanting to know more about his teammate's girlfriend. The one whom he never thought about once before this trip. And how can he even defend his honor?

You got into his head.

You don’t register what he’s doing—not instantly, at least—but before you know it, he’s pushing your legs off the coffee table, claiming a seat there, instead. Now, rather than having a clear view of the television, you have one of him. Large and desperate and perfect. 

He narrows his eyes, sharp and threatening. “Are you glad that both Lily and Lando are gone?”

“Nope,” you respond, popping the p. “Why would I?”

Why would you? Geez, who really knows? Oh, maybe because now you have me all to yourself, and isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why don’t you want me anymore? 

Slightly grinning, Oscar lets out a raw chuckle, making you want to jump onto his thick lap and lick up his neck. You bet it’d taste like salt and cologne, but the mere thought sounds like a dream. A wild, wild dream. 

“I know you think about me.”

Zero reaction. Unimpressed, you push your bottom lip out, wagging your index finger at him before pressing it against his cheek, making him pause because that alone makes his skin burn. You push, forcing a dimple before doing the last thing he’d ever thought you’d do.

Slap him.

He thinks he’s imagining it, and you didn’t just do that, but the smug look on your face and the sting on his lets him know that he isn’t picturing it, and you did just do that. You smile sweetly, standing and ditching your place right in front of him, making your way towards the stairs. 

“Get a life, Oscar. Not everything is about you.”

You like to mess with people’s sanity. That must be it because—what the fuck is wrong with you?

First, you insinuate lusting over him. Later, you put on a show for him every chance you get. And now? Now you toy with him, making him feel like the crazy one. And one thing’s for sure.

He is not crazy.

You barely have a foot up one stair when you’re pulled back, and before you know it, pushed down to sit on the step, the Australian kneeled down in front of you. You breath hitches, eyes as wide as cherry pies. His brows are drawn in softly, a pink tint dusting his ears like some shy teen. 

“Maybe not—but everything is about you.”

You always knew you’d get him, and you knew exactly how you’d do it. You’d plant the seed and have him come running to you. It always works. I mean, it’s how you got Lando, after all. 

But Lando was a want. Oscar is a need.

With his knees still glued onto the ground, the brunette leans down and kisses your ankle, laying his lips flat as you gasp softly, feeling the familiar bracelet dig into your skin. 

“Tell me you think about me too,” he whispers pathetically—fragile. Another kiss, this time up your calf. “What do I have to do in order to get you to say it?” 

“You’re insane,” you mumble, orbs stuck on the top of his head, shaggy hair hanging loosely before he looks up at you, past his lashes. Butterflies erupt. 

Up your thigh, he licks you, tasting your lotion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the bitter taste. “Come on—I want you.” He sucks, forming a purple bruise. “Don’t you want me, too?”

You do. You fucking crave every piece of him. But you can’t let him know that. And you really do try your best to fight him off, but as soon as he starts curling his fist around your small dress, you’re just as good as gone. 

A tiny moan rings through the air, then a pant follows. He’s barely even touched you and he’s already knocked the air straight from your lungs. 

“I d-do, Oscar.” Whine. “I do want you.”

And just like that—he’s taken whatever power you were claiming onto—back.

Letting go of your dress, he chuckles, enjoying your out of breath state, and standing, making you feel small as you blink, confused as to why he stopped.

Dark eyes glint sinisterly as he kicks your open legs together, not too hard, but still enough to make you jolt with surprise, leaning your elbows up against the step, brows furrowed. 

A beat. “You really are a pretty little thing.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you to feel abandoned.

-

It’s a brutal game of tug-of-war. One where both of your guys’ hands are burning from trying not to be the first to let go.

The first to admit defeat.

Though, it seems like the days grow longer, your dresses fall shorter, and his mind is hazier. All of which is making it more difficult to keep a distance. That is, until Lily FaceTimes Oscar.

“I need you to buy some flowers.”

Mid-bite, his teeth push down on his apple, eyes glued on her. He pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. “Won’t they dry out before the party?”

She shakes her head, highlighting what looks to be a set of notes. “That's why you're going to get carnations. They last longer.”

“Is that so?” he entertains, smiling gently when she bites down on her marker, brows furrowed as she reads her piece of paper. Throwing away what's left of his fruit, he hums. “Alright, I’ll take care of it tomorrow, don't worry.”

“Oh no, tomorrow won’t work. You have to do it today.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because she's only available today. She's going dress shopping tomorrow.”

He doesn't even have to ask who she is because he already knows. Shaking his head adamantly, the Australian rejects her idea before it even has a chance to lift off the ground. “I could do it myself,” he snaps, his usually tranquilent voice coming out a bit harsher than intended. And it’s not like him. He never, ever, speaks to Lily this way. So, obviously, it surprises her, a wounded expression mapping out immediately. 

And she could have been mad. She really could have been mad—but she wasn’t. “Is everything okay?” she asks carefully, as if walking on eggshells. It makes him feel like shit. “What's wrong, Oscar?”

“I…” His tongue goes numb. The vivid image of you looking at him, like you hold him in the palm of your hand, comes through. And he doesn’t completely hate it, not right away. But once the British girl hums softly through the phone, he’s ashamed. “I just wish you were here. I miss you.”

A beat, then: I love you.

You had not been the biggest fan of going floral shopping with Oscar, either. Quite frankly, you didn't think being with him for hours on end was a good idea. At least, here in the house, you could escape, but out in the open, your chances were ironically not that good. Where would you run off to if you depended on him for a ride back?

Yet, you found yourself saying yes, and you didn’t know why. You had no clue why you felt the need to help her out. You had no clue why you felt a certain way towards her all of sudden. 

You had no clue when Lily Zneimer—the girl you're supposed to hate—was someone you saw as a friend.

It was a tough pill to swallow, because on one hand, you were still attracted to her boyfriend. But on the other hand, you suddenly had self-control. You didn't want to ruin their relationship anymore. You didn't want to lose her amity. 

You were trying to be better.

“Ready?”

Looking up from your book, you nod. “Let me just go grab my sunglasses.”

As he watches you run upstairs, he feels something—different. From your end, that is. As if something has shifted. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because before he knows it, you’re back. 

The car is quiet and his music can barely even be heard, but nothing is far more awkward than the tension between you two. It’s suffocating, so much so, you roll down the window. He makes a noise, making you tilt your head to look at him. He’s frowning. “It’s a hundred degree’s out, roll it back up. I can turn on the AC.”

You don’t utter a single word, just follow his instructions. He finds that weird. See, usually, you’d be doing something to get him hot and bothered, but these days you seem to be playing it safe. If anything, he should be thankful. He should be glad that you’ve left him alone for whatever reason. 

But now he wants in on your game.

“How’d you meet Lando?”

“Don’t. We don’t have to talk.”

He ignores you. “I met Lily in school. She was in the class next to mine and I used to think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.” His mind panics as soon as he realizes what he’s just said, but you don’t seem to have done the same. A cough. “How’d you meet Lando?”

Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to let this go unless you answer his question, you sigh, twisting your body and adjusting yourself to have a good view of him. Like this, you can count every mole on his skin if you really wanted to, but you don’t. “I never really met Lando, per se. I just always…knew him, I guess.” His brows furrowed and you chuckle. “We grew up as neighbors.”

“You did?” he asks, brows jumping up with shock. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip. “He was my sister’s boyfriend for two years.” This shouldn’t surprise him. Coming to a red light, he turns to look at you, fighting the urge to show any kind of reaction, he doesn’t want to scare you off. You look away, wincing. “I knew what I was ruining the moment he and I started talking behind her back, and I did it anyway.” 

“So…they were still dating?”

Nod. “She caught us locked up in the bathroom. There really wasn’t any explanation to that.” Green flashes as you point numbly and he steps on the gas once again. “And you know what? I didn’t even feel all that bad, and you want to know why?”

“Why?” 

“Because I got what I wanted.”

I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want, that is.

Your words from nights ago replay inside his overly crowded mind, making it pound like a sore thumb. His lips open, but he has nothing to say, and it appears you’re done talking, too. Or so he thought. 

“Oscar…” you whisper. “I can’t taint another relationship.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw slacked. You don’t want him anymore. You want nothing to do with him. Shouldn’t he be pleased? Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that your diabolical plan has expired? One you never admitted to, but still. 

So then why does he feel let down?

“Lily is great,” you continue, eyes closed as you nod gingerly. “She’s the best, and she deserves the friend she thinks she has.”

“Except you two aren’t friends.”

You blink. “Wh-wha—yes we are. What are you talking about?”

He grits his teeth. “You two aren’t friends. You could never be.”

This gets a rise out of you. Straightening your back, your brows pinch together with offense. “And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because?” You scoff, not impressed by his bland response. “We can’t be friends simply ‘because’?”

Switching lanes, he huffs, spotting pink carnations in his rear view mirror. You had chosen those on Lily’s behalf. He didn’t really care at the moment, but now he wishes you had gone with white. What were you two arguing about again? 

Spotting the familiar blue house, he lets out a breath, pulling into the driveway, quickly putting the car in park, and turning off the ignition. This almost makes you back down because suddenly his sole focus is on you, not the road. 

“You’re on my mind.”

Oh. Biting down onto your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I’m n—”

“Yes,” he says, firmly, reaching for your hands and pulling them up to his mouth, kissing them over and over. “You are and you know it.”

“Oscar, no…” you let out, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. A crazed look colors his irises as his chest rises fast, up and down, as if he’s close to hyperventilating. Bewildered, your lips turn to a downward spiral. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Yes, I do!” he yelps, voice cracking as you stare with shock. “You did this to me, you got in my head on purpose!”

“I didn’t do anything!” you squeal, frightened by his tone. “Did I tell you that I wanted you?”

“You implied it,” he defends rapidly, pleading with eyes for you to show any signs of recollection. “What changed?”

“I already told you,” you snap, this time using all your power to yank your hands back. “I don’t want to be this way anymore. I can’t.”

Silence. 

Slow breaths explore the car as he stares blankly. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” you hiss, aiming a glare. 

Oscar shakes his head, flinging his door open and hopping out, leaving you dumbfounded as you watch him go. Unbuckling yourself, you make a beeline for him, barely even reaching him as you tug on his shirt, making him turn back with a dark look in his eyes. Your heart nearly flat lines from how scared you are of him from this point of view. 

“What isn’t fair, huh?” you ask, trying to sound brave, but there’s a slight tremble in your voice. 

Glowering down on you, the Australian’s lips form a slow smile, almost in a sinister way. Mocking, too. He chuckles to himself. “You like to have your own fun, don’t you?” Your shoulders drop, taking a clumsy step back, but he takes a dominating one forward. “Yeah…you do. You get to knead your fingers into someone’s brain until all they can think about is you, and once they do, you’re out.” Pause. “It’s no longer fun.”

“That’s not—” You let out a shaky breath, wincing at his accuracy.  “Where are you going with this?”

Oscar shrugs, broad shoulders going up before falling sourly. “I’m gonna do the same.”

You freeze, stomach twisting with trepidation. “Huh?”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “How come you only get to have your fun?” He leans down, coming eye level with you, and narrowing his gaze until you see his iris dilate. Something about that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why can’t I do the same, too?”

Taking a step back, he makes sure to send a sly smile, the kind that lets you see he has a hidden dimple. He sighs as he steps into the house, forcing you to watch him go with a smug reaction and leaving you with a poor one. Last minute, he turns around, inclining against the doorframe, making him appear larger than the world. 

Oscar squints teasingly. 

“I’m going to have you begging me to fuck you.”

-

There was a moment in the past week where you nearly fell for it—almost. 

It happened one morning, and all he had done was walk into the house, all big and sweaty. He had just come back from a run.

“Excuse me,” he says, reaching over to grab a glass from the cabinet, intending to pour himself a bit of water. A certain warmth radiates off him and you feel it cling onto you immediately, pushing you towards him. You physically have to stop yourself. 

Pursing your lips, you move, allowing him to easily grab what he needs. Without a single thank you, he hums, the cool water tasting heavenly. The way his Adam’s Apple juts up and down makes you want to scream, looking away as rub your eyes fiercely. He smiles, setting the glass down. “I need your opinion on something.”

“What is it?” you ask, still not looking. Maybe you should leave to go buy your dress for the party. Time is running out, and you have nothing. Though, at this point, you didn't want to be here anymore. 

“It's about Lily’s graduation gift. Should I get her a necklace with her birthstone, or—” 

An ankle bracelet with my number on it?

Immediately, you turn to face him, cheekbones beet red and a slight twitch in your eyes, those that are now dark and looming. Satisfaction plays a role in his features as he stares innocently. “I was leaning towards the ankle bracelet. I really do think you and Lando are onto something.”

“What’s your game?” you ask, bitterness evident in your tone. Your question takes him back to when he was the one asking it. To you. Neat brows furrow with anticipation.

The brunette shrugs. “I don't have one. I'm just here to have fun.” He smirks. “It's summer—isn't it?”

This is all a bad case of deja vu, one you don't find appealing. How dare he ask you something like this with a dirty smile on his face? The look is just the right amount of disgusting, and the right amount of intriguing. 

He was getting to you.

Clicking your tongue, you roll your eyes. “Whatever your plan is—stop it.” Pointing a finger, you shake your head firmly. “Because it's not going to work on me.”

“It’s not?” he asks, closing the gap and towering over you dangerously so. He sees the way your breathing becomes a tad bit irregular, letting him know that this was working, no matter how much you denied it. “Because you’re a better friend now? Because you got one taste of loyalty and now you've decided to be loyal to yourself?” A large hand reaches for your chin, forcing your head to tilt back and look up at him. And you hate how handsome he is in an infuriating moment like this. “People don't change overnight. I doubt you'd be the first.”

Old habits die hard, but over time, and he's right. You're still the same avaricious girl as yesterday. 

Pushing his thumb against the corner of your lips, you instinctively open your mouth, making room. A soft smile tugs at his own lips as his eyes admire your lipstick coating his finger. Slowly, he eases the digit in, feeling your wet tongue hug it. And then, suck.

“Fuck,” he groans beneath his shaggy breath, brown orbs not wanting to miss a single second of this. Humming, your vibrations send a chill down his spine, finding it harder to not bend you over amd just fuck you into oblivion. But no—he had to hear you say it. 

Pink tongue laps around his thumb, doe eyes blinking prettily, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Instant jealousy enters the room as his mind begins to race with the fact that Lando has probably had you like this millions of times. He pushes down on your tongue, making you whine and bite down. And he doesn't even flinch.

“Tell me you want me…” His brows knit with need. “The same way I want you. Please, just—say it.”

Without warning, you bite down hard, this time getting a reaction out of him as he grunts with pain, and you push him away harshly until his back pounds against the nearest wall, letting out a loud thud. 

“Let me tell you one thing, Oscar,” you start, strolling over to him like a fallen angel. Today you wear a white dress, clung to your body like a glove, allowing him to see every curve of yours, in return, making his palms sweat. You grin, reaching him. “You won't ever see me begging for anyone—especially you.” His stomach drops. “No matter how much I want this to happen, too.”

Are you willing to get down on your knees and supplicate?

The answer is an obvious one for him: yes. He’d spend hours at your feet if that meant having you, for even just a second. Normally, he isn't this submissive, nor this desperate, but it seems like only you bring this side out of him. He doesn't entirely hate it.

“Ye—”

Ring! Ring!

Sighing, you walk up to your phone that sits on the nearest counter, and pick it up. “Hi, baby,” you greet sweetly. “How’s Adam?”

Ring! Ring!

Digging into his back pocket, he curses, picking up. “Hello, darling,” he says warmly, making you flicker your gaze over at him with accusation. “How’s everything going?”

Turns out, Adam’s bone wasn't actually broken and Lily had aced her exams. She ended up telling Oscar the truth, to which he was surprised she had kept it hidden from him for so long, but was far more surprised when she told him that you knew. Long story short, by some twist of fate, they’ll be back in the next couple of days. They land on the same day, so they’ll save the Australian the hassle and just drive in together. 

“See you in a couple of days. Alright. Bye,” you say, rubbing your temples. 

Oscar looks up, chewing the inside of his cheek before letting go. “I’ll see you, then. Fly safe.”

A moment passes by. “Did she tell you—”

“That they’re flying in together? Yeah. They were both in London, after all. It makes sense.”

“Sure,” you mumble, brushing a strand of hair away. “They land Wednesday, then?”

“Correct,” he says, nodding along. It’s already Monday, so that was…soon. 

Too soon.

“I should probably start fixing up the arrangements,” you announce. “Lily asked me a couple of days ago, but I haven't gotten around to it. I just pray they haven't died yet.”

“They haven't,” he states, making you curl a brow. He smiles sheepishly. “Carnations last longer. Lily said so.”

“Of course,” you say, grinding your teeth. “Lily said so, so it must be true.”

Nothing more, nothing less. You just walk towards the flowers, and feel the irritation paint your silhouette, because as expected, Lily was right—like always. 

Thing is, Oscar has come to learn your behavior. The way you tell a lie, the way you tell the truth. He's learned your body language, and right now, he can tell one thing for sure.

You never stopped hating Lily.

He smiles.

And that makes him happy. Because he knows this isn't over yet.

-

By Tuesday, the entire setup is ready. The flowers sit beautifully at every table, and the lights hang nicely around the trees. The sound of the lake singing is your only reminder that you could use a break. And apparently, it was also Oscar’s.

“The event decorators just left. But you did an excellent job with the florals,” he adds last minute.

A hum. “I tried my best.”

The dock creaks. The frog's ribbit. The crickets harmonize. And you two are too close to one another. Your shoulders brush, making you flinch and for him to cough awkwardly. “Despite everything, I had fun having you around. A summer well spent, don't you think?”

With a deadpan expression, you turn to look at him, making him laugh, and the corners of your lips fight back a smile. You haven't heard him laugh in so long, you come to realize. In all sincerity, that is. “It was alright,” you respond, shrugging it off as if nothing. “But yeah. I had fun, too.”

Fun teasing each other. Fun trying to get each other to crack. But fun, nonetheless.

And he thinks: if not now, when? You don't know at what moment he catches you off guard, but he does, because in a single second, he's kissing with urgency. Like he's never kissed anyone before and he was making sure to get it right. And it was more than right. Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to keep up with him, but the taste of cheap beer makes you get high on life. Since when is he much of a drinker?

Since you.

The good thing is that the entrance back to the house isn't that far, so your guys’ tumble is pretty successful. Though, you don't make it to either’ bedroom, but rather the couch, where a bunch of disposables lay. Lily had them shipped a couple days ago. Says she wants as many pictures as possible, savor the memories for a lifetime.

Without any precaution, he wipes his arms across the cushion, sending the cameras to crash against the floor and throwing you onto the couch, smiling once you squeal with excitement. All except one camera—but neither of you notice that yet.

Your soft hair lays around you like a halo, making him wonder if he’s gone straight to heaven. You gesture him to come in closer, and he’s quick to obey, diving for your neck. You giggle, a lazy hand finding its way into his locks. “No marks,” you pant, squirming as he licks a line down your throat before going up towards your lips. 

“No marks,” he confirms. “On your neck.”

You pause momentarily, disattaching your mouth from his. “No marks anywhere.” He grins, nodding just because. You frown. “I’m serious, Oscar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “Sure.”

Then, he’s on his knees, kissing your ankle like that one time on the stairs, except now, he’s taking it nice and slow. Steady. Your mind grows dizzy as he grazes his fingers gently down your skin. It sends goosebumps, seeing him like this. So…submissive.

“I never wanted you,” he whispers as he presses his pink lips onto your left ankle this time. He hums. “You were just another girl to me. My teammate’s girlfriend—that’s it.” Another kiss. “You never crossed my mind, not even once.”

And now…

Making his way up, he kisses in between your thighs, nuzzling into your warmth. You let out a weak moan, chest rising raggedly. Playing with his earlobe, you massage it gently as you try your best not to ruin this moment. Though it seems like nothing could. Not when he’s devoted to it already. And so were you.

Feeling a slight burn, you furrow your brows as you spot him sucking gently against your inner thighs. You squirm, pushing his head away as he keeps his position. “I said no marks.”

And you actually feel his smile start to spread against your skin.

“He won’t see these, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Another suck, this time harder. “Well…unless you want him to. Then that’s your decision.” Looking past his lashes, he bites down on the flesh, making you flinch. “So what? Are you gonna let him see how someone else has fucked you while he was gone?”

Pulling your panties to the side, he dips his tongue into your pussy, making your hips fly off the couch, and for him to push them back down, holding you in place. Sloppily, he kisses it—practically making out—and groans like a madman with the way you taste. Your sweet nectar makes his cock grow hard instantaneously, and he can’t help but grind against the edge of the cushion where your legs hang. 

“Holy.” Whine. “Fucking.” Moan. “Shit.” Groan.

Twisting with an obscene amount of pleasure, you tangle a shaky hand through his hair, ignoring how soft it feels. The need to run away and stay is a confusing pattern, but as soon as he adds a finger, curling it just the right amount, you let out a high pitched moan. 

Just like that, Oscar, just like t-that. 

Adding another digit, he picks up the pace of his tongue, drawing figure eights as the knot in your stomach burns brutally. You feel a white cloud surface over your eyes as they close, screwed shut as if that might help you last longer. But he knows what your body needs, and that itself was an alarming thing to realize. 

With one last mewl, you finish all over his tongue as he licks you clean, not wasting a single drop. And the way you taste—makes him not want to go back to not knowing. With a smile filled with bliss, and that familiar afterglow, you giggle, nose scrunching like a bunny as your cheeks remain as red as a rose. The sight alone makes him struggle to comprehend that this is most likely a one time thing, and not something he’ll be able to relieve whenever he wants. 

At the end of the day—you're not his.

But he can still reminisce about this moment from time to time.

Mid-giggle, a flash goes through as you come to a stop. Oscar grins, shaking the green disposable, showing it off. “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Your breath hitches, his words tugging at your heart strings. You haven't experienced something like that in so long. Shaking your head, you push your dress down, climbing off the couch and pushing him to sit. “I like to play fair.” Sliding down to your wobbly knees, you shoot a gentle smirk, something that makes his cock grow painfully harder. “Let me take care of you, Oscar.”

Undoing his belt, you hurriedly unzip his jeans, fighting the urge to take him completely. You don’t, though. No, you first kiss the tip, making him groan, feeling as if pushing you head down is a good idea. Then, you suck at a comfortable speed, like a baby sucking their thumb, and watch past your lashes how his chest begins to rise slowly. 

“You’re huge,” you hum, pecking it. “How am I gonna fit you into my small mouth?” 

Moaning, the brunette drags a hand over his tired expression, faking a smile. “You’re saying you can’t?”

You suck harder, still treating it like a lollipop. Licking his tip like a kitten licks their bowl clean. It’s starting to cut his patience thin. “I can figure it out…”

I’ve done it with Lando. How much harder can this be?

That’s it. Pushing the back of your head, he forces you to deepthroat him, keeping you in place as you drool on either side of his lap, soft gurgles coming through. You try to push off him, but it seems like that makes him shove you down twice as hard.

“Something to say, baby?” he pants under his breath, raising a brow. “What was that?”

Slapping his thigh, tapping out, you find yourself being pulled off of him, dragged onto his lap as in one swift movement, he pushes your panties to the side once again and thrusts his thick cock deep inside of you. So much happens so fast that you barely have a chance to adjust to his girth. 

“Does Lando make you feel half as much as I make you feel?”

He’s not talking about sex. It hasn’t been about sex for a while now. 

Moaning, you bounce up and down, your hair hanging like a curtain as you give your best to keep up with him and his rhythm. But he practically controls you, snapping his hips up with anger. At least, that’s what it feels like. 

“Does he make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh against his ear as you clutch an arm around his shoulder, keeping as steady as possible. “He does.”

But you make me feel better. 

The sound of your praise does something to him, something inexplicable. And while he can’t quite put a name to it, he does know that you’re telling the truth. You had to be. 

Again, pulling you off his swollen cock, he flips you around, having you use him as a chair as he squeezes his girth into your tight pussy, strong arms looping under your legs and spreading them open as he abuses your cunt, feeling your head fall back as you gasp. 

“F-fuck,” you shriek, head bopping with each thrust, and your throat growing dry. “Fuck me—fuck me.”

“I’m trying,” he chuckles, continuing as you try your best to understand how he was able to learn that he knew how to do all this. “Look at you. Just…look at you.”

There comes a time of life where someone is meant for you, and you’ll find your way to each other, no matter what. He’d like to think that it’s true. Sure. It is. But have you ever thought that maybe it’s not? 

Maybe the person you think you’re supposed to be with is busy thinking the same thing as you? Living a full life with someone else who isn’t their soulmate? Romantically, that is. 

Lando and Lily. They’re both place holders. They’re nice, yeah, and they’re amazing, too—but that’s about it.

You hold his entire destiny. 

He just wants to live by it. 

But the way he has you—it’s temporary. And nothing good ever lasts forever. But God, he really fucking wishes it did. 

Close, he hears you whisper, followed by a squeal as he holds your legs up higher, still fucking you in the same position. So, so close. 

“Not. Yet.”

Hauling you off, you’re quick to whine, feeling empty as he spreads you onto the couch, admiring your glistening lips. He presses a thumb down against your bud, feeling the pulse that enlightens him to smile. You copy him, toying with your dress. 

“Should I—”

“Keep it,” he says firmly. A beat. “Please. Keep it.”

When you nod, your hair only gets tangled against the cushion, but that’s the least of your worries. You frown. “You haven’t cum yet…”

“I will, don’t worry.” Silence. Pushing this thumb inside, you squirm, wincing slightly as your eyes remain on him, waiting for his next move. “Open.”

Opening your legs wider, he chuckles, shaking his head. Your mouth. You gulp, then open wide as he hums, bringing his wet finger into your mouth, making you taste yourselves. And normally, you’d be grossed out. God, you don’t let Lando even do this, but something about Oscar makes you feel okay. That, and like a pathetic freak. 

“Good, no?” It’s an awkward thing to ask, you can’t help but blush against his digit, lashes fluttering. The Australian tsks, pressing his large finger against your tongue as your eyes grow wide. “Right?”

In a heartbeat, you nod because it just felt like the right thing to do. Satisfied, he smiles, taking another photo of this beautiful sight. Your eyes are round and full of life, and slightly teary, and that’s what he likes to see. 

Retracting his thumb, he smirks. He makes room for both of you on this small couch, towering over you and he starts raising both your legs over your shoulders. Your stomach twists. 

“I wanna see it when I fuck you.”

With your dresses scrunched up, and his cock cutting you in half, you both moan in sync as the wet sounds echo through the hall of the empty house. And this wouldn’t have happened—probably ever—if you hadn’t accepted their invitation to spend the summer in North fucking Carolina. 

The number four dangles, and not only is the sounder a reminder that it’s there, but he can spot it from his peripheral vision every time he pounds into you a little harder. And he should be jealous—God knows that’s true—but surprisingly, he’s not. 

Because he’s heard the way Lando fucks you. And nothing—nothing—compares to now. 

It feels as if he’s practiced moves like this for a lifetime. As if he were to promise you that this could all work out, then you’d believe him.

You really would.

A sloppy thrust. “I never wanted you to begin with,” he grunts, screwing his eyes shut as your body reacts to his harsh confession. “I saw you with Lando, and I felt absolutely nothing. I had Lily to focus on. But God—what have you done to me?”

His tip seems to find your g-spot as you cry out, withering around. “I was taught to respect others. To respect what’s theirs. Whether that be a journal, or a remote control car, it didn’t matter. But you do,” he confesses, watching as you continue to whimper, probably not catching any of this anymore. “You did this to me…”

You filled me with greed.

Grabbing your ankles, he lurches them over his left shoulder as he continues to pound into your tight cunt, hearing you gasp before erupting into a string of moans. 

“Now, everything he has, I want.” You whine. “I’m going after his Championship.” You whine louder, eyes opening as you watch a bead of sweat roll down his nose. “I’m going after his team.” 

Oscar chuckles darkly. “And I’d love to say that I’m going after you, but hey…looks like I already have you.”

And just like that, the pit in your stomach bursts as you two clash against one another, your orgasms riding out together as your legs finally fall, but not before he makes sure to press a gentle kiss. 

A flash. 

“Really?” you ask, glaring. 

“Stick your tongue out.”

Without any questions, where you lay, you open your mouth, watching as he stands up to tower over you, jerking his cock one last time as his drops of cum fall against your tongue, white and thick. 

Your eyes flicker with excitement as he makes sure to take a picture. If he can’t have you later, or probably ever again, then he’ll make sure that he gets an angle of you that only he could ever dream of years down the line. 

Pulling his pants back up, he makes sure to clean you up before making you sit, him only a few inches away, but honestly, it feels like miles. All of a sudden, he’s distant, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. 

Biting down onto your wobbly lip, you comb your fingers through your hair—you’re doing your own after care. 

“I know things with us won't ever be the same, but…” You wince. “Please don’t treat Lando any differently. He sees you as a brother.”

He flinches because he knows it's true. Of course it is, everybody knows it. Oscar nods in agreement. “Only if you promise to stop hating Lily.”

You snort. “Sure. Sounds fair.”

The sound of tires is what ultimately gets your two to spring up, rushing towards the window as you look onto the driveway. Laughing, you first see Lily, then Lando, then you frantically twist your heels to face the Australian who remains with a blank expression, clearly not expecting them. 

“They were supposed to be here tomorrow, you said!” you hiss, rubbing your temples. “What the fuck?”

“They must’ve upgraded their tickets to get here sooner,” he shoots back, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He grimaces. “Hurry! Help me pick up the disposables from the floor!”

“Right!” you screech, running toward the living room as you fall onto your knees, picking up the cameras and tossing them back onto the couch. Oscar does the same, but with his eyes stuck in the door, waiting for a knock. 

Knock! Knock!

Freezing, you two look at each other, as if debating whether to make a run for it together or not. Though, as soon as you hear Lando call out for you, you’re sure you have no chance. Taking one last glance at the pile of cameras, you huff, skipping towards the door, fixing your knot up hair as best as possible. 

“Hey!” you greet, nearly over exaggerating, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he beams, grinning from ear to ear. Lando pecks your lips, lingering for a moment, making your heart drop. Because he can’t know—can he? Distancing himself, he wears a subtle frown, sort of there, sort of not, so you’re quick to smile. “I’m so happy you’re back.” You turn to face Lily, who’s stayed in the background, letting you have your moment. “That you’re both back.”

“It's nice seeing you, too,” she says before her eyes wander to a place behind you. Suddenly, her eyes twinkle as she grins at Oscar who comes closer with lips drawn into a firm line. “Look who just woke up from a nap.” Kissing his cheek swiftly, she tippy toes, fixing his messy hair into a neat comb over. “You look as if you got into some kind of bar fight.”

“Yeah,” Lando hums, looking over at you with dark eyes. “It sort of does…”

“We were fixing the outside tables—”

“We were fixing the floral arrangements—”

Lily and Lando quirk a glance at each other, then back towards you and Oscar whose faces are flushed. Oscar coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Why don’t you guys come and check it out?”

“Yes, please!” Lily squeals, already making her way out the door, the Australian not that far behind. 

Sighing, you go on to follow as well, but there’s this hold on your wrist that just won’t let go. You spin, staring at Lando who clenches his jaw.

“Did you fuck him?”

You flinch. “No—I didn’t.”

Blue eyes fill with warning as he nods, silently thinking to himself before rubbing his chin harshly. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’re capable of.”

This physically makes you feel sick, ashamed that he knows you for being a lying cheater. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, wishing to take it back as soon as it comes out. He raises a brow, clearly surprised. You gulp. “You’re capable of doing the same thing as me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why we’re together?”

“We’re together because I love you.”

“Yeah, well, I love you, too. I’ve literally given up the relationship I had with my sister—for you.” Taking his hands into yours, you knit your brows together softly, and just like that, he melts. “I love you, Lando. There's no need for anyone else.”

Looking past the clear window, Oscar stares at you and the Brit, who share a hug, taking occasional loving pecks as if nothing else matters. 

As if his feelings aren't worth anything. 

“I love it,” Lily says, ripping his gaze from getting hurt any further. Because that’s what this has all led to —him getting hurt. She grins happily, making her way closer. “I really appreciate you two working on this together, it all looks so wonderful.”

Guilt makes his tongue trip as he tries to say something, but when all fails, he settles with a warm smile, pulling her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’d do anything for you, Lily Zneimer.”

With your head resting on Lando’s shoulders, you look out to where the couple stand, in the same embrace. This makes your eyes sting, which is silly because—why do you feel so invalidated? 

Despite being so far apart, you and Oscar are still able to connect, looking at each other with a certain yearning. This is not what this was supposed to be. The Australian would have never dreamt of any other girl that wasn’t Lily, so what happened? 

“I love you,” Lando mumbles, securing his hold on you.

“I love you,” Lily mumbles, face pressed against his heart, feeling it thump fiercely. 

You spare Oscar a smile, and Oscar spares you the same. And neither of you two can bring yourselves to lie.

So, instead, neither of you say it back.

-

It all comes crashing down on you one Sunday morning. 

By now, Lily has graduated, summer is over, and you’re back in Monaco. And for some reason, Lando offered to help get Lily’s picture’s developed. He knew a guy who’d get him a nice discount, apparently. Film is expensive as it is, so of course the British girl accepted. 

You’re sitting outside on the balcony. It’s windy today, and you should probably go back inside, but the ocean looks particularly blue today, so you decide to stay. 

Curling yourself tighter with your blanket, you sigh, staring numbly, mind racing. Because this is a daily occurrence now. 

All. You. Think. About. Is. Him.

Him and his obnoxious smile. Him and his warm brown eyes. Him and his chuckle that sounds dry to everyone else, but lively to you. 

Just…him.

And without a doubt, Lando has figured out that something was wrong with you, but he never asked questions.

Until now.

“Hey,” he says, plopping down next to you, pressing his lips against your temple quickly before smiling. “Have you been here all day?”

You blush, shivering by the sudden breeze. “If I say no, would you believe me?”

“Yes,” he admits, clicking his tongue. “Because apparently I believe almost everything you have to say.”

Including your lies. 

You hear him, but his voice is muffled by now with all that you’re feeling. He handed you an envelope, and you first opened it with curiosity, then with dread and shame when you realized what was inside.

The film.

You’re laughing, eyes shut with delight. 

Your lips are wrapped around his thumb.

Around his cock, too.

Drops of cum lay flat on your tongue.

One where his head is beneath your dress.

One of his hands wrapped around your ankles, a certain number four glimmering.

All of this, and more.

Licking your lips repeatedly, you sit up, staring at him with an open mouth. “Lando—”

“I’m not mad.”

You blink.

He shrugs, taking the pictures, making you want to snatch them back and figure out what to do with them yourself. How could you and Oscar forget to set this one aside?

He can tell that you’re mortified, so he sends a reassuring smile, but it does no good. “I’m not, alright? I’m just…disappointed.” His reaction is confusing, he can tell what you’re thinking. Why is he so okay with this? “I’m not the biggest fan of you lying to me, but whatever, it’s fine.”

“And sure, I should be furious that you two went behind my back, and maybe I am—but I’m willing to let it go because I love you.” The blue eyed boy pecks your lips, you still frozen with shock. He chuckles. “This is what I get, right? This is my karma? For sleeping with you while I was still dating your sister?”

When you still don’t say anything, he nods to himself, as if this is all making sense to him, and only him. “Must be.” A beat. “I forgive you.”

“What about him?” you squeak, scared of his response.

Lando clenches his jaw before breaking into a helpless smile. “He doesn’t have to know, I know. This will just remain between you and I—just like always. He doesn’t have to know. Lily doesn’t have to know.”

You hold yourself from crying because in a way, he’s right. Out of everyone, Lily Zneimer doesn’t deserve any of this. She has been nothing but good to you, and you’re embarrassed to notice now that you ruined a perfectly good friendship. And while she may have no clue, you do, and that’s enough for you to probably wince every time you look at her from now on.

“Just don’t do it again. M’kay?”

Rubbing his thumb against your lips, it’s almost like he’s waiting for something, but when you don’t seem to do whatever he was thinking, his eyes darken, and he gets up with a bitter smile. 

He takes the pictures with him and you don’t know what for.

But you don’t dare ask a single question.

It’s just you. Your thoughts.

And Oscar.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting @chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna @wanderingreigns @aykxz98 @ruti26-11 @esposamultifandom @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @r0nnsblog @aeriblu @inchidentofftrack @natashaklein @rutaceae-gelato @bowielovesyou @lilypat @folklaur21 @dustie-faerie @ajordan2020 @oscobabe @briefkittenearthquake @anayaverse

[s0lar-ch3ri]

i thought about this then what i was supposed to. (writing about things)

i commonly drop things and we dont keep the lights on always. i got accustomed slightly to just looking around in the day with the light that comes around through the windows and hope to find things. itd be small things, like my phone or my glasses or some pencils i really wanted to bring to school. it takes me a few seconds, but ive started turning on the lights and it makes things easier. if i drop things under a table, i grab my phones flashlight and i make it as bright as it can go and use that to look. its not how im supposed to look for things, i should be able to see well enough with my glasses, and the flashlight is too bright for reason. however, its helpful and makes it a bit easier.

whenever i need to do something, i dont write a note, but rather tell a friend to remind me. if they forget to, chances are ill remember myself because i expect them to tell me. ive never cared when they forget, because most times i didnt. writing a note would be a lot more simple, and maybe would be easier, its the way im supposed to handle it. however, im more likely to do it if im told by someone else or know i will be told by someone else. its more reasonable for me.

i make the text on websites bigger when they dont let me. i listen to music and podcasts on my headphones in class when i shouldnt. i use my extra days to get answers sometimes for math. im learning sign when nobody else will so i can talk to myself without worry, or just go nonverbal but not noncommunicative. i draw bigger then the papers can normally handle. i use a calculator for simple problems that require more then a basic amount of thought. i reread lines in books when i lose where exactly i am. i use pencils over paper cause i know i wont do things perfectly. theres more i do.

some of these may be normal or conventional ways of handling disability related issues. some i may be seen as less for because of how i handle. its not always how im supposed to. maybe it doesnt have to be what your meant to do to handle. maybe its how it works and its enough.

do what helps you, not what your supposed to do to help yourself. its easier that way.

[iluvloganhowlett]

I need more hugh and reader PLEASE he’s so cute pattotie which is such a contrast from Logan lmao

CUTIES ✮⋆˙

in which ryan reynolds has a private snap story where he secretly films cute moments between you and hugh

warnings: none, just fluff!

do NOT ask how i thought of this…

the camera started by showing ryan, a bit too up close and personal for the average person’s liking. “hey nerds, welcome back to ‘i-spy with ry-ry.’ today, i just saw hugh and y/n make their way to hair and makeup together so we’re gonna follow them and see where the wind takes us. hopefully that won’t be to a small, crappy bathroom stall..”

alas, the camera flips and you and hugh can be shown skipping off to hair and makeup, babbling about whether or not a tomato should or should not be considered a fruit.

“baby when have you ever heard of tomatoes in fruit salad or in a fruit smoothie or when have you ever asked for fruit and were handed a cup of tomatoes?”

“never… but-“

“so then i rest my case, thank you very much.”

you squeal, running a little to catch up to hugh as he rounds the last corner to hair and makeup.

“hugh!” you call, landing a soft and playful punch on his back, causing him to swiftly grab you and tickle your sides.

as you giggle uncontrollably, the camera flips back to ryan, who unexpectedly has tears welling up in his eyes. “i’m sorry it’s just- god they’re adorable. they make me wanna have more children.”

your giggles can still be heard in the background, and for the next chunk of time, all that is shown is a rather unflattering angle of ryan watching you and hugh.

as soon as your voice can be heard again, ryan flips the camera back.

“y’know it’s not very nice to hold others against their will like that,” you mutter, looking up at hugh with a playfully-angered look.

he shoves you, causing you to lose your balance ever so slightly, “aw get outta here! you love me!”

you tilt your heard, grabbing hugh’s hand as the two of you swing your joint arms back and forth, “maybe.”

hugh’s head snaps toward you, brows high, “maybe?!”

you only smirk, “maybe.”

he shakes his head, “you’re a little shit i hope y’know that.”

“eh you love me,” you repeat, stealing his words.

ryan zooms in on your faces, and hugh can be seen clearly as his eyes—full of nothing but love and adoration—flicker between your eyes and your lips.

you close the small space between you two, leaning up on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips to his. the kiss is slow and passionate, making ryan squeal out loud; louder than he thought he had.

you two break apart, heads darting to wherever the sound came from.

“ryan what the hell?!” you exclaim, a bright smile on your face as you tilt your head.

hugh can be seen with a twisted face, looking his best friend up and down.

“alright i can explain-“ ryan pleads as if he’s in a movie, but hugh has already made his way towards the camera, snatching it out of ryan’s hand.

you follow suit, hugh’s hand on the small of your back to guide you. you lean up, almost choking when you read the title of the story, “ryan are you fucking forreal? ‘i-spy with ry-ry?”

“i-“

“you’re a strange man…” hugh states, wrapping his arm fully around you waste now to guide you the opposite direction from ryan, actually making your way to hair and makeup.

as soon as your backs are turned, ryan flips the camera to himself, “alright everyone, that’s it for todays episode of i-spy with ry-ry, stay tuned for-“

“ryan shut ya damn mouth, man!”

“bye-“ *camera cuts*

ok i’m actually satisfied with this bc 1) it’s veryyy original 2) tumblr deleted this whole thing and i had to rewrite it from memory🤦🏽‍♀️

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula

[wosospacegirl]

Love bite - barça teen reader

Summary: Y/n's trying to hide the lovebite on her neck from Alexia and Olga but fails.

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: This was an anon request!! <3 thank u for sending it in <3

Masterlist

..

Jana, Vick and Pina had told Y/n that it would be a good idea to go to the concert of a local singer. They had told her she should ‘enjoy her teenage years’ and ‘stop acting like a grandma’.

So Y/n asked Alexia if she could go, and of course the answer was a straight up go. La Reina said it would be too dangerous, that bad-intentioned people would recognize them and try to do something bad to Y/n.

It took a lot from Y/n, the girls and Olga to change Alexia’s mind about it, but she finally caved in.

Y/n went out and enjoyed her night, although she might have enjoyed it a little too much.

Y/n had spent the last hour trying to hide the telltale mark on her neck. She had barely slept the night before, she had come back to the house late, only mumbling a good night to Alexia, who had stayed up and waited for her.

The young girl hadn't noticed the mark sitting right on her jugular when she collapsed into her bed, barely taking her shoes off.

But as she looked in the mirror that morning, the bright red hickey stood out like a neon sign, and she knew it was going to be impossible to keep it hidden much longer. 

Y/n quickly pulled on her hoodie–the first one lying around in her drawer– hoping the high collar would be enough to cover it. But as soon as she walked into the kitchen to have breakfast, she could tell that Alexia and Olga weren’t going to be fooled.

"Morning, Y/n!" Alexia greeted, raising an eyebrow when she saw the way Y/n was pulling her hoodie up around her neck, practically choking herself in the process.

Cool, act cool.

"Uh... morning," Y/n muttered, her voice higher than usual as she tried to act casual. She kept her eyes down, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Carinõ, why the hoodie??" Olga asked, confusion on her face. "Today’s one of the hottest days of the season!” She pointed at the window, as if the bright rays of sunshine running through their front yard would back her up on it.

Alexia, though, was worried about something else.

“Hey!” Alexia said sternly, frowning on her face, getting closer to Y/n.

Y/ froze on the spot. Alexia saw it. Somewhere she saw it under the thick fabric of her clothes. It was over for her. Alexia would never allow her to go out again.

“–Is that my hoodie?” Alexia questioned, the frown on her face deepening as she saw the little AP embroidery on the hem of the left sleeve. “I’ve told you not to take my clothes, nena!”

Y/n let out a breath in relief, her body suddenly not feeling so stiff.

“Uh, yeah,” Y/n said, rubbing the back of her neck and sitting on the table, in front of Olga and Alexia. “It’s just so comfy.”

The young girl prepared her coffee as if nothing had happened. If she acted cool enough, she would get through it.

Alexia rolled her eyes, drinking her smoothie.

“That hoodie was handmade for me,” Alexia muttered under her breath, but Y/n could still hear her.

“You always let Olga wear it, though!” Y/n shot back.

The hoodie was an exclusive piece. There was only one in the world, because the designer had made it for a campaign Alexia did for the Barcelona media team. It was blue, red and yellow, but the charm of it was that it looked old money.

Y/n fell in love with it the moment she saw Alexia wearing it, so of course, she casually borrowed it from Alexia from time to time.

“She’s my girlfriend, tio [dude]!” Alexia said as if it were obvious. “It’s different, we share the same wardrobe.”

“But–”

“Cariño,” Olga said softly, interrupting her and Y/n’s bickering. “What if you ask Alexia for her clothes before taking them, huh? You wouldn’t like it if Alexia just got into your room and took your stuff without asking.” 

“Alexia never asks for my clothes though!” Y/n argued, taking a bite of the sandwich she had just made.

Alexia turned to her comically fast. “And when did I ever wear your clothes? You wear shirts with cartoons on them, I would never wear something like that!”

“Okay, first,” Y/n pointed a finger at her. “It’s not cartoons, it's anime. Second, you did take my clothes when we went to that game in Portugal.”

“Because the airport lost my baggage!” Alexia said exasperatedly, holding the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t have anything to wear! And it was 2 years ago.”

“Well, you still took my clothes and you didn’t even ask–”

Then a tragedy happened. 

Y/n reached her hand to grab one of the fruits that were near Olga, but then she accidentally knocked her hand over the orange juice jar that was just on her left.

Her football reflexes weren’t fast enough, and the juice splashed all over the table–and on her, meaning, on the hoodie.

Alexia’s hoodie quickly became wet and turned into a weird orange-ish tone in a matter of seconds.

“Y/n! Merda [shit],” Alexia said, getting up from her seat, her eyes in horror as she saw how stained her hoodie–her personalized hood–was. “Take it off now! I’m gonna put it in the laundry machine.”

Olga, seeing it all happen, was quick to take some paper towels and try to clean up the mess on the table. Although Alexia was–again–more worried about her hoodie.

Alexia came closer to Y/n and held the hem of the hoodie, but Y/n fought her on that, taking a step back and putting her arms in front of her body.

“No, let me wear it!” Y/n said, her tone harsh.

Both Alexia and Olga stopped and stared at Y/n. Why would Y/n want to wear something wet and, well, dirty?

Okay, maybe the whole thing about being cool about it wasn’t working.

“ I-I mean I’ll go change and I’ll put it in the laundry machine myself,” Y/n said, smiling nervously as she noticed Alexia and Olga were not buying the whole situation.

Instead of waiting for them to say something, she quickly turned around, heading for the stairs. But Y/n quickly felt something tugging her back.

Alexia and her stupid arm strength.

Y/n twisted away from Alexia’s grip like her life depended on it “I said I’ll wash it later!” she yelped.

Alexia was obviously stronger, but Y/n was faster– fastest one on the team, to be more exact–no bragging though.

Y/n dodged to the side while Alexia groaned, her grip losing. 

“Come on, nena”, Alexia groaned. “I want my hoodie, not your kidney.”

Y/n was fast, but Olga? Oh, Olga was messy.

Y/n tripped over the bag Olga always left on the floor, and that’s when Alexia got hold of her again.

“Not so fast, nena,” Alexia said firmly, her tone indicating she wouldn't let her go until she got to the bottom of her awkward behaviour.

“Sit.” Olga pointed at the sofa to her left with her chin. 

Y/n gulped and sat down, looking at her feet while both Alexia and Olga looked at her sternly. Olga was never the serious one, which meant she was gonna get in trouble.

“What happened?” Olga asked, crossing her arms. “What’s this whole thing with the hoodie?”

"Nothing, it’s fine… I am fine," Y/n said quickly, tugging the stained hoodie higher. "Just, uh, you know…” Y/n looked around, grasping for an excuse. “I’m really stressed with school and… I just kinda found comfort in this hoodie, it 's-uh, so… soft?"

Alexia gave her a knowing look. "Right, of course," she said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Since when does a hoodie help with school? And why not just take it off? I can get you a hoodie, you know. No need to go around clinging to my clothes."

Y/n’s stomach twisted with nerves. I can’t let them find out. I just can’t.

Alexia continued, raising an eyebrow. "Y/n, if you’re hiding something from us, you know we’ll find out eventually, right?"

Y/n’s face went scarlet. She instinctively reached up to adjust her collar again, but Alexia wasn’t buying it.

Olga's face softened when she noticed how nervous Y/n looked. She quickly got down to her knees in front of Y/n.

“Cariño,” she began gently. “You know that you can talk to us about anything, right?”

Y/n thought it was one of those rhetorical questions, but Olga waited until she replied.

“Yeah, um, I know that,” Y/n said, smiling shyly.

Y/n knew she could come to Olga and Alexia about anything she needed or wanted. When she messed up or did something stupid, they would give her a hard time and a lecture before fully supporting her and giving their best to help her.

But…Y/n wasn’t sure whether Olga or Alexia wanted to talk about how she got too caught up in a make-out session inside a bathroom stall.

“Look, if this is about body image issues–” Alexia began.

“Or mental health–” Olga said in sequence. 

Alexia and Olga began muttering about Y/n’s mental health and well-being, but it was like they didn’t know how to talk about it, so their words were mixing together and they were absolutely making no sense.

Y/n let them have their own monologue moment while she thought of what she could do about the whole situation. Olga and Alexia clearly thought the whole hoodie thing meant that there was something wrong with her.

“I’m gonna call her psychiatrist and tell him she needs to see him,” Olga said, turning to Alexia.

And that’s when Y/n gave up trying to hide it, she could show the hickey but maybe say it was something else?

Y/n’s mind raced as Alexia stared at her down. Maybe she could lie — say it was a burn from her curling iron or a mosquito bite she scratched too hard.

Yeah, that could work. She opened her mouth to speak but immediately shut it again when Alexia’s eyes narrowed. Nope. No way she’d buy that. Alexia had the terrifying ability to see through every excuse Y/n had ever made.

Y/n had her fair share of lies she told and got cough–’ fake stomach aches’, ‘forgot my boots',  ‘didn’t hear my alarm’. Alexia would never believe the bug bite story.

What was worse? A hickey or Alexia and Olga thinking that she wanted to off herself?

Y/n hoped they thought the mental health thing was worse.

“Okay, you two, stop,” she muttered, looking down in embarrassment.

That caught Alexia and Olga’s attention, and both women looked at her again.

Y/sighed in defeat and lowered her hoodie, revealing the bright red hickey on her neck. 

"So I went to that concert last night and..yeah, me and this girl…we kinda... kissed. And, uh, I wasn’t really thinking about where I was... You know, being kissed." Y/n mumbled, feeling her ears get red.

Olga’s eyes widened, her face changed from confusion to relief and then to amusement. "Well, well, well. Look who’s got a little love bite."

Y/n buried her face in her hands, mortified. "Please don’t make it worse."

Alexia, on the other hand, held a stoic expression on her face, not saying anything. Y/n could feel her eyes burning on her hickey, so she pulled the hoodie tight again.

“And here I was scared that we were going to have to send you to some clinic,” Olga smirked, sitting on the love seat in front of the sofa, while Alexia stood in front of her, still no expression on her face.

“Hmm, no,” Y/n mumbled, eyes locked on Olga and deliberately ignoring Alexia. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Olga seemed to have taken the whole situation in stride, Alexia, on the other hand, looked like she had just lost to Real Madrid.

"Nope, now we just have to worry about what happens the next time you go out,” Olga teased, her grin widening. 

“Look at my cariño all grown up... What’s next? Bringing your girlfriend home?”. 

Olga shot a pointed look at Alexia, her smile turning downright devilish. "Bet she’d love that," Olga added, clearly enjoying herself.

Y/n groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Olga, stop it!” 

Olga just laughed, giving Alexia a gentle nudge before tugging her down beside her. She took Alexia’s hand, her thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Alexia, stop looking at Nena like she did something wrong,” Olga finally said, her voice softer.

“Who was the girl?” Alexia finally spoke, as if being close to Olga had settled her nerves.

“Just…someone from school,” Y/n said, playing with her hands. “We  ran into each other at the concert.”

“You didn’t tell us it was going to be a date,” Alexia said, lifting one eyebrow, Olgas hand resting softly against her thigh. “You said it was just you and the girls from the club”

“Well, that’s because it wasn’t a date,” Y/n said, feeling more defensive. “I was with Jana when I saw the girl in the bathroom line.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Did you go to her house?” Alexia pressed.

Y/n’s head snapped up. "Why does that even matter?" Her irritation flared. "I’m sixteen, not twelve."

“Nena,” Olga said calmly but firmly, sensing the tension building between Alexia and Y/n. “We just want to know what happened, we’re not accusing you of anything–we want to make sure you were safe.”

Y/n felt her cheeks blush even more.

“Oh, no! We-we didn’t… you know,” Y/n stammered. “We didn’t…nothing happened.”

“You didn’t go to her house? Or like…somewhere else?” Alexia asked again.

“No,” Y/n said. “We-we met at the concert, and we stayed there.”

“You know you can go out alone, right?” Alexia asked. “People know you. It’s dangerous, you have to let us know where you are all the time.”

“Alexia, I know!” Y/n replied, the frustration creeping into her voice. “Like I said, we met there and then Jana drove me back here, I swear I didn’t leave.”

“You don't need to swear, we believe you,” Olga said, patting Alexia’s tight. “Right, amor?”

Alexia let out a sigh, her body not so tense anymore. “Yeah, we trust you.”

“Okay, so we’re done here,” Y/n said quickly, getting up and trying to run against the very awkward chat she just had. “Nice interrogation, though.”

But before she could make her getaway, Alexia tugged at the hem of her hoodie.

“Not so fast, lover girl,” Alexia teased, her lips curling into a smile.

Y/n froze, her face going bright red at the nickname. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

Alexia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Hickeys happen. They’re normal.” She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But seriously, right on your neck? A little more careful next time, yeah?”

“Necks are like…rookie territory,” Olga added, grinning.

 "Come on! I didn’t plan it! It just happened,” Y/n groaned, her face still bright red.

“You’ve got training tomorrow,” Alexia said, her tone softening with a hint of concern. “You’ll probably want to figure out how to cover that up. I’m pretty sure everyone on the team is gonna notice. Trust me, they can spot a hickey from miles away.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/n looked at Alexia out of the corner of her eyes. “You've had hickeys?”

“Of course she has,” Olga cut in, grinning wickedly. “She’s not a nun, cariño.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked back to Alexia, who was suddenly very interested in the rug Olga had bought last week.

Alexia was the most put-together person Y/n had ever met. Her capitana was focused and professional…she just couldn't picture Alexia walking around with a love bite.

Y/n had been living with Olga and Alexia for a fair share of years and–thank god– she never noticed any hickey or well…anything between the two of them.

Unfortunately, by the way both Alexia and Olga blushed at her question, it was safe to say Alexia did have her moments with hickeys, but Y/n just never noticed them.

Ignorance really was a virtue. 

“Okay…” Y/n said slowly, backing away from the living room. “Ew.”

“Hey, we didn’t ew you?” Olga protested. “Don’t ew us! Like Alexia said, hickeys are normal and–”

“Please stop talking right now,” Y/n said, already on the stairs.

“When two people love each other–”

"Nope!” Y/n blurted as Olga started talking

She practically sprinted up the stairs, her hands over her ears. “I don’t wanna hear it! I’m good! I’m fine! No life lessons, please!”

“Coward!” Olga called after her, laughing.

Y/n groaned, slamming her bedroom door shut. Maybe she could fake an injury before training tomorrow. Anything was better than showing up with her glowing red lovebite for the entire team to see.Y/n had a feeling Alexia wasn't going to be on her side on this one.

“By the way,” Olga called up the stairs,  “Next time you’re sneaking around with someone, maybe ask her to mark you somewhere less obvious. Just some friendly advice!”

“Stop talking!” Y/n’s muffled yell came from behind her door.

..

The next day, Y/n knocks on Alexia and Olga’s door.

When she heard the sleepy ‘come in’ from Olga, she opened the door, lingering in the doorway.

Olga was clearly still trying to sleep, her face half buried into the covers. But Alexia was up already, her gym clothes on while she looked at the mirror and held her hair in a ponytail.

“Here,” Y/n said, Alexia’s hoodie folded neatly in her hands, and she handed it to her.

Alexia glanced at the hoodie, then at Y/n, and took a deliberate step back. “Oh no. Keep it.”

Y/n frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t know what else you’ve been doing while wearing that,” Alexia said, eyeing it like it was contaminated. “I’m not risking whatever...teenage chaos you’ve dragged it through.”

“I didn’t—” Y/n started, but Alexia was already walking away, heading through the. “Alexia! I washed it! I literally wore it after the whole…kissing thing.”

“Keep it!” Alexia called over her shoulder. “I’m going to the gym — be ready when I get back for lunch and make sure Olga actually wakes up.

Y/n sighed, resigned to dealing with Olga, but at least she got to keep the hoodie.

Olga murmured something in response and turned around, burning her face in the other pillow.

..

Masterlist

Notes: Please let me know what u guys think <3

[snail-day]

I need some comfort right now been feeling depressed lately : ( could I request some headcanons of the JJK men with a depressed reader or a reader who uses a weighted blanket to help them relax because I usually sleep with weighted blankets.

Sorry for venting a bit pookie I don't wan to ruin your mood platonic forehead smoothies for you have. Great day!

Anon-🧜‍♀️

Sorry this one took me so long, it was really just me wanting to do it justice because I know exactly how that mood feels. It's icky, you just want to be in a bubble, ugh. Not fun. Hope this makes you feel better 🧜‍♀️ anon. Remember that bad days are just days that are bad :) Get outside, do a small little hobby, even just getting up and walking around is a win.

JJK men x Depressed! Reader WC: 2.1k Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

Gojo Satoru is typically a ball of endless energy, a powerhouse of sorts. He fills rooms with his presence alone, an ever-burning sun that refuses to be ignored. But when he comes home and you don’t greet him, when your laughter doesn’t echo against the walls, when you don’t even move from your place in bed, that light dims.

The usual clatter of his arrival fades into something quieter, more hesitant. White brows knit together beneath his blindfold as he watches the still lump of blankets, the way you curl into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. He’s seen this before with Suguru. He won't let that happen to you. His steps are slow as he approaches the bed, a stark contrast to the usual airiness of his movements. He crouches beside you, a pop of his knees, long fingers ghosting over the edge of the blanket. He doesn’t rip it away, doesn’t force you to look at him.

"Hey, princess." his voice came out softer than usual, all the teasing lilt gone, replaced with something quieter. Something real.

When you don’t respond, when you don’t even stir, something in him cracks. Without a word, he climbs into bed beside you, pressing himself close. He doesn’t care if you’re curled up beneath layers of blankets; he’ll wedge himself in however he needs to, something he's rather good at. He flops on top of you like a lazy starfish at first, pressing his forehead to the back of your neck, but when you don’t laugh, when you don’t even shift to complain about his weight, his playfulness evaporates. Moving to slip his lanky arms around you, no longer just resting but holding. His fingers find yours beneath the blankets, carefully intertwining them, a firm grip but not suffocating. His warm breath tickles the back of your neck as he murmurs, "You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to move. Just let me stay, okay?"

And he does. He stays for as long as it takes, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder, letting his warmth seep into you. The usual hum of his boundless energy is dulled, reduced to something slower, softer - like a dog curling up beside its favorite person after a long day. When he finally coaxes you to peek out from the blankets, just enough so he can see your face, his heart breaks. Your eyes are distant, unfocused, as if the world itself has blurred at the edges. He reaches out, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, before gently, so gently, pulling his blindfold off.

"C’mon, sweetheart. Look at me."

It’s rare, the moments where he lets you see him like this. No barriers, no teasing, no distractions. Just Satoru. His bright blue eyes search yours, trying to find something within the emptiness. When you don’t speak, when you just blink up at him, exhausted and hollow, he doesn’t push. He only presses a few pecks to your forehead (slips in a few wet smoochies too, it's a bad habit he's trying to break), like he’s trying to press all the words he can’t say directly into your skin.

"You’re still here." His hand slips beneath the blankets, resting against your stomach, his fingers spreading wide as if to keep you close to him, as close as possible.

"You know what that means?" voice tinged with something so soft, so achingly tender that it doesn’t even sound like him. "It means you’re winning, baby." He doesn’t care if you don’t believe it right now. He’ll believe enough for the both of you.

Geto Suguru doesn’t tend to overwhelm you with words. He knows what it’s like to have nothing left to say. Instead, he gives you presence when everything feels too heavy to bear alone. When he finds you curled up in bed, buried beneath layers of blankets, he doesn’t force you to move. He doesn’t try to coax you into sitting up or pretend like things aren’t as bad as they feel. He simply sits beside you, lowering himself onto the mattress with slow, languid movements. His fingers skim over the fabric covering your back, giving a gentle rub with the warmness of his palm. He doesn’t push the covers away, doesn’t pry you from your cocoon of silence. He just rests a hand there, an unspoken reminder: I’m here. I’m not leaving.

Suguru’s hands have taken lives, crushed throats, ended countless existences with the flick of his wrist. But when they touch you, they do so with an unbearable gentleness. He brushes stray strands of hair from your face, his thumb stroking slow circles into your skin. His lips find your forehead, your temples, your eyelids. His breath warms your skin as he whispers against your pulse, "You’re still here."

He knows better than to expect an answer. So instead, he talks, filling the silence with the low, steady hum of his voice. He tells you about the morning’s errands, about the way Mimiko scalded her fingers trying to make him tea and how Nanako lectured her for ten minutes straight. He recounts little moments, the ones that don’t feel important but carry the weight of life moving forward. He doesn’t demand a response - he just offers his words freely, weaving them around you like a safety net, something to keep you tethered to the present.

Even in your silence, he notices everything, the way your lips part slightly, as if trying to form words you don’t have the energy to say. The way your fingers twitch against his sleeve, small and barely noticeable, but he notices. He always notices. So he shifts closer, wrapping you in the kind of embrace that says, You don’t have to carry this alone.

When the weight of it all becomes unbearable, when you’re too exhausted to even hold yourself up, he gathers you into his lap and cradles you against his chest. He holds you as if you are something precious, something fragile, something that must be protected at all costs. His fingers ghost over your spine, his other hand tucked beneath your legs, securing you against him like he can shield you from the weight pressing down on your soul. "I won’t let you drown, love. I won’t lose you."

And later, when your breathing finally slows, when you’ve slipped into exhausted sleep, Suguru lets himself break.

He clutches you tighter, pressing his lips to your hair, and in the dead silence of the room, a single, choked sob escapes him. He has lost too much already - his friends, his future, his faith in the world. He cannot lose you too.

"Please don’t go where I can’t follow."

No matter how long it takes, no matter how many days you struggle to get out of bed, no matter how many nights you say nothing at all, he stays. Because if there’s one thing he can still give you, one thing he can offer without hesitation, it’s time. And as long as you are still here, as long as you are still breathing, as long as there is even the smallest part of you still fighting, then so will he.

"Whenever you're ready, love. I’ll be right here."

Nanami Kento is not a man of grand gestures. He does not smother you in words or try to mend wounds with empty reassurances. He notices the shift immediately. The way your responses become slower, shorter. The way you hesitate before speaking, like the weight of forming words is too much effort. The way your once-lively eyes dim, dulled by something heavy and unseen. It’s a small thing, seemingly insignificant. But Nanami thrives on routine, and so do you. Every evening, without fail, you meet him at the entrance, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but always offering a soft, quiet "Welcome home."

Tonight, the air is still. His fingers tighten around the strap of his briefcase. He exhales slowly, composing himself before stepping inside. His gaze sweeps over the apartment, seeking you out, his heart sinking when he finds you curled up on the couch, motionless beneath a heavy throw blanket.

You don’t look up when he approaches. You barely move at all.

Nanami sets his briefcase down carefully as if any sudden movement might disturb the fragile stillness around you. He lowers himself to his knees beside the couch, resting a warm hand on the blanket that covers your shoulder. His thumb moves in slow, rhythmic strokes.

"You haven’t eaten today, have you?"

It’s not an accusation, not a demand. Just a quiet observation. You shake your head, barely perceptible beneath the blanket. He hums softly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"I see."

Nanami does not tell you to get up. He does not urge you to shower, or take a walk, or “freshen up.” He knows the weight you carry is not so easily shaken off. So instead, he disappears into the kitchen, moving with the same precision he does in everything. A few minutes later, he returns with a simple meal, nothing overwhelming, nothing heavy. A bowl of miso soup, a small plate of tamagoyaki, and a cup of warm tea. He doesn’t expect you to eat much. He doesn’t expect you to eat at all. But he sets the tray on the table beside you, within reach, and sits down next to the couch with patience.

"Just a few bites," he says softly. "It doesn’t have to be much."

There is no pressure. No frustration. Just him.

When you finally take a small sip of tea, his shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t praise you for it, doesn’t act as though it’s some great feat, but the subtle way he exhales tells you that it matters to him. That you matter to him.

Nanami stays with you for the rest of the night. He does not ask you to talk. He does not demand explanations. He only stays, his hand resting over yours. Later, when the night stretches on and you’re still curled against the couch, he gathers you into his arms, lifting you easily. You make a small noise of protest, but he only presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring softly, "Bed, love. You'll sleep better there."

He tucks you beneath the covers, slipping in beside you, his warmth radiating through the sheets. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close to the warmth of his chest. His breath is steady, slow, coaxing yours to match.

"I know it’s hard," he murmurs into your hair, voice laced with quiet exhaustion. "But you’re not alone. And you never will be."

[tttabii]

LIPSTICK STAINED SMOOTHIE -

THANOS / CHOI SU-BONG X READER

warning : just fluff

────୨ৎ────

YOU WERE BROWSING THROUGH YOUR PHONE, waiting for Thanos to finish engaging with another overzealous fan. Being his assistant had its perks, but dealing with his constant complaints about free coffee from fans was not one of them.

Everywhere he went, people handed him iced Americanos, lattes, mochas—anything coffee-related. At first, he accepted them with a smile, but now, after what had to be his fifth cup today, he was done. "Bro, I swear if I get handed another damn coffee I'm going to throw it against the wall," he said, under his breath, as he began to walk back over to you.

He held yet another cup of cold brew in his hand, looking at it like it personally offended him. You didn't even look up. "You could just....not drink it."

"I tried. But they watch me. They see me standing there and just waiting to see if I'm going to drink it or even try it. I can't just throw it away in front of them." He sighed again with frustration, then noticed your own drink.

A bright smoothie. A colorful and thick smoothie. An ice cold smoothie. The polar opposite of the rotten, watered-down coffee he had been inundated with all day. 

Before you could react, he snatched it out of your grasp.

"What the hel-" You stared as he took a long drink, practically without thought, placing his lips around the straw.

Your lipstick was still on the straw.

Your very obvious lipstick.

His lips were where yours just were.

Your mind stopped functioning. 

Thanos made a satisfied sound and leaned his head to the side, sipping again. "Damn. This is so much better than that trash I've been drinking all day."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Was he unaware of the effect he has on girls? 

"You drank from my straw."

He casually leaned against the wall, completely unbothered, holding your drink in his hand, sipping it like he paid for it himself. "Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow and took his slow sip. "You want it back?"

You glared. "I was drinking that."

"And now I'm drinking it." He shrugged, a smug smirk creeping onto his face as he tapped his fingers against the cup. "We're sharing, Y/n. That's what friends do."

Your jaw dropped. "Since when were we friends?"

He leaned in slightly, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Since I placed my lips where yours just were."

You froze. The air shifted—something smug and playful lurking behind his words. You could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he was enjoying watching you struggle for a comeback.

And damn it, you hated that your face had to feel hot.

This cocky bastard...

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "How presumptuous of you to assume I don't have cooties."

Thanos let out a deep chuckle and stared into your eyes while he took a sip slowly. "Then I guess we're infected together."

You rolled your eyes at him, but snatched the drink up and took it without handing it back to him. "There's no way you are serious." 

He let you snatch back without a fight up until this point, but the teasing grin stayed in place. "Hey, you're lucky I'm not trying to steal your food."

You scoffed, taking a sip from the same straw on purpose, staring him down. "You wish you could have this smoothie."

Thanos watched you, an amused glint in his eyes. "Nah. I already got a taste."

You almost choked on your drink.

This was definitely not in your job description.

"You're also fortunate I haven't stolen your heart," Thanos said with a smirk, his voice dropping into something smoother, more teasing. "Or maybe I already did?"

You rolled your eyes, not even giving him the satisfaction of a response, and took another sip of your smoothie—the lipstick staining the straw even more. By that point, you were used to his nonsense, but it was the way he said it so casually, like it was fact, that made your stomach do this weird annoying little flip.

You didn't even have time to think of a witty comeback before he took the drink right out of your hand again. "Su-bong-!" 

Too late. 

His lips pressed onto the exact same straw, the lipstick now transferring onto his mouth as he took another sip and still didn't seem bothered. He didn't wipe it off, didn't even seem to notice —just bounced back into your smoothie, for a second time that day, like it was completely normal. 

You just eyed him, completely flabbergasted by the audacity of this man. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath and resolved at that point fighting over a drink with Thanos was not worth the headache. 

He'd just keep taking it back, and you'd probably end up throwing hands in the middle of the event.

You sighed and relinquished your ground. "Fine. Have it. Whatever."

He beamed victoriously, winked at you, and turned to walk back toward the gathering crowd of fans. You shrugged off the insane devastation he would soon wreak. Because the second he approached the crowd, they noticed. 

Noticed the drink.

Noticed the lipstick-smudged straw.

Noticed his lips. 

Eyes widened. Some fans pointed to the cup in his hand and whispered to their friends. Others pulled out their phones and took quick pictures as fast as possible; gasps and noisy squeaking filled the air. 

Thanos, still completely unaware, finished his drink, approached fans for signatures, and took selfies with them heading into the crowd like he was not holding evidence that he was possibly one cheap shot or a single snap of proof in the act. 

And, of course, the internet exploded.

Meanwhile, you were a few feet away, distracted with another coworker, discussing something work-related.

"So we need to check if the next shoot location is confirmed," your co-worker said as they scrolled through their phone. "Also, did you see the plan for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," you said while crossing your arms, "Thanos has another interview in the morning, and then—"

Your co-worker suddenly tensed their body up. Their eyes shifted over your shoulder before widening slowly. "Uh... Y/n?"

"What?" You turned to them and raised your brows. Your co-worker paused.

"Did you and Thanos just... like... drink something together? Like just now?" 

You blinked, "Uh, yeah? He stole my smoothie, why?"

"Did you have lipstick on?" Your stomach dropped. 

"Wait, why?" Your co-worker slowly turned their phone to show you exactly why. Your eyes landed on a new social media post—now already blowing up—with Thanos sipping from your smoothie through the lipstick-stained straw, his mouth lightly tinted in your lipstick. 

The caption? 

"WHOSE LIPSTICK IS THAT???"

Your soul left your body. "Oh my god."

As if things could not get worse, you looked up—just in time to see Thanos smirking at you from across the crowd, still sipping your stupid smoothie. He did that on purpose. You were going to kill him.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 wedding

SECRET BONUS/prequel to pocus -- (after sample, before merienda) a sneak peak into the reception of your wedding, where a rather interesting conversation took place between the oldest charlotte siblings... the topic concerning you.

cw: fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, katakuri is a bit socially awkward, he is twenty-one (same as daifuku and oven), you are twenty (same as amande), cracker is eighteen, smoothie + sisters are eight, galette and poire are four, raisin is one, katakuri's got it BAD, oven and cracker are kinda skeezy.

a/n: took way too long pt.2 </3 i'm tearing up

"Never thought I'd see the day," Oven smirked, eyeing the Sweet Commander with an amused air. "My big brother... in a suit."

Daifuku chuckled in agreement, taking a sip from his glass with a tipsy grin.

"On his wedding day, no less," the Minster of Beans chortled, swirling his booze around. "I was almost certain he'd walk down the aisle in a leather vest!"

Together, they shared in uproarious, intoxicated laughter, though their noise was promptly drowned out by the particularly boisterous party going on a few feet away.

The party of the century... Charlotte Katakuri's wedding.

Every major player in the New World was in attendance, drinking, laughing, and dancing the night away at what was certainly a celebration for the ages.

Even members of the Charlotte family were joining in on the festivities, serious-types like Perospero and Compote taking a load off for once and enjoying the party.

Hell, Big Mom herself was quite drunk, having broken out into her thirty-second musical number of the night, both her and her screeching homies prancing about the roof of the Whole Cake Chateau with a look of happiness many hadn't seen in a long time.

But, if there was one person who wasn't in the highest of spirits, it was—to no one's surprise—the groom.

With a tired sigh, Katakuri rolled his eyes, ignoring his brothers' inebriated teasing as he hooked a finger on the neck of his tie, loosening it before unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt.

He hated constricting clothes, and was certain if he kept the tie on for any longer, it would strangle him to death.

But, in the same sentiment, he hated everything about this damned wedding.

The bright lights...

The loud music...

The obnoxious party-goers...

Were it not for you—and the rather unscrupulous characters gathered around his family—he would have certainly slipped away by now.

But, alas, it was not in the cards; and he would not be able to truly retire until his mother announced that the party was over.

Which could be hours from now...

At the thought, the furrow in his brows only deepened, turning his gaze into a full-on glower.

"You're rarely this tense, big brother," Amande commented, seemingly out of nowhere, startling Daifuku and Oven.

Of course, Katakuri sensed her coming, and predicted what she was going to say before the words even came out her mouth.

"Should we have reason to to worry?"

Knowingly, Daifuku grinned, waving his little sister off as he poured himself another drink.

"No reason at all," he assured with a slightly teasing tone. "Our brother's just sulking, is all."

"Sulking?!" Cracker exclaimed, drunkenly interrupting the conversation. "At a party like this? With a wife like yours?"

He scoffed, the sound morphing into a boisterous laugh mid-way.

"You're killin' me, big bro."

Lifting his head, Katakuri glanced at his purple-haired sibling, analyzing his uncharacteristic sway and the uneven slur of his words before ultimately surmising that the boy was completely hammered.

'Looks like somebody got into the wine when no one was looking...'

"He does have a point," Oven chimed, thoughtfully, "The party is one thing, but you lucked out in terms of arrangment."

Unanimously, the five turned toward you, each one having their own reaction to the sight laid before them.

You were sitting at the kiddie table, smiling brightly as Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon took turns braiding your hair, Galette and Poire at your feet as they played tug-of-war with your veil, baby Raisin cooed softly in your arms.

It was a rather heartwarming sight, which assisted in combating some of Katakuri's tension, allowing his shoulders to sink slightly.

You were so... you that at times it truly baffled the man.

Amidst all this chaos and confusion, all this uncertainty, you still found the strength to remain open-minded and kind, never once becoming cold or changing your tune due to the circumstances.

It was an effectively enviable trait, and one that stupefied him to no end.

How could one woman remain so perfect all the time?

Oven smirked, eyeing you up and down with a rather seedy look.

"Coulda ended up with a lot worse."

Cracker scoffed, pouting like a child as he plopped himself down in an empty chair, dropping his head on the table with a defeated sigh.

"Tch. You can only go down from the top," he grumbled, the booze thoroughly loosening his tongue. "Most eligible hottie in all of Whole Cake... wasted."

Katakuri's jaw ticked at the rather crude comment, forcing him to send a subtle but sharp glare his brother's way.

"Wish Mama had given her to me," Cracker rested his cheek in his palm, donning a rather sleazy smile. "I coulda showed her a whole new world, if you catch my drift."

At that, Daifuku and Oven burst into a fit of laughter, tears welling in their eyes as they slammed their hands on the table, disbelieving of the boy's confidence.

"What would you know, boy?" Daifuku scoffed, thoroughly amused.

"Have you even had your first kiss yet?" Oven raised a brow, honestly skeptical.

Embarrassed, Cracker flushed, sitting up rigidly in his seat.

"Hey, I totally have!" the older teen exclaimed, voice slightly cracking. "I've been with tons of girls!"

"I'm afraid your biscuts don't count!" Daifuku snorted, the comment sending him and Oven falling out of their chairs with hysterics.

Mortified, Cracker turned red as a cherry, furious, as he abruptly stood from the table.

"Screw you guys!" he barked, pointing at the two.

At the pitiful scene, Amande rolled her eyes, face remaining expressionless as always.

"I'd rather she be with Katakuri than you savages," she stated in a monotone. "She's a sweet girl and—"

"Mama mama! Katakuri, tell me!" Big Mom chirped, her drunken footfalls loud and thumping as she made her way over to the siblings. "How is that new wife of yours? Is she enjoying the party?"

Remaining cool, the Sweet Commander simply nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back.

"She is well, Mama," he answered plainly, not giving her much to work with as to avoid any follow-up.

Sadly... it did not work.

"That's wonderful!" she beamed, her happiness that of a pleased child. "Pretty little thing, isn't she? I knew she would be perfect the moment I saw her!"

Suddenly, an idea popped in her head, one that instantly caused her face to brighten.

"As a matter of fact, where is she? I'd love to have a little chat."

The notion sent a cold shiver down the man's spine, the thought of you alone with his mother introducing a certain feeling in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Fear.

"Actually, Mama, I think (y/n) and I are going to retire," he seamlessly deflected, standing from his seat with effortless ease. "She has a rather early start tomorrow making your congratulatory doughnuts."

His face didn't betray a single thought running through his mind—most of which about all the ways his mother could kill you if you accidentally insulted her during a one-on-one interaction.

Somehow, he had no idea what he'd do were that scenario to occur.

In fact, the mere possibility of it suddenly brought him a sense of overwhelming and all-encompassing dread.

He needed to get out of there.

And fast.

At the mention of desserts, Big Mom's eyes went starry, all memory of what she was originally saying flying out the window.

"I see!" she squealed, suddenly incredibly excited. "Well, then, please! Take her! I can't wait for those sweets tomorrow!"

Curtly, he nodded, smoothly turning on his heel and making his way over to you.

"All right, then. Good night."

Crisis successfully averted.

Internally, Katakuri let out a deep sigh of relief, the tension building in his back slowly melting away the further he got from his mother.

How he was going to keep this up for the rest of his life, he didn't know.

But—as he looked up from the ground, eyes landing on your perfect form—what he did know was that you looked drop-dead gorgeous in your dress, its cut, style, and color embodying you better than he ever could've imagined.

You were so radiant, so naturally brilliant and bright that he often felt blinded by your looks, and effectively intimidated.

You had a certain way of gazing, and a certain way of speaking, that kept him hanging on to your every word—and rendered him suddenly unable to muster his own.

It was all a mess.

A large, political—if he'd ever admit it, romantic—mess.

But, if one thing was for certain, he was pleased to finally have a moment alone with you on your wedding day.

Even if, due to his crippling shyness, it was in relative silence.

[p0orbaby]

We No Speak Italiano

summary: you’ll never miss a day of Duolingo again

warnings: are language barriers and miscommunication warnings?

a/n: based on this request ! also thank you to @onsomenewsht for inflating my ego and helping navigate italian !

word count: 2.1k

-

Alexia looks at you like you’ve just dropped the biggest bombshell in the history of bombshells. Her eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, and she’s got that look, like she’s trying to figure out how to assemble a piece of IKEA furniture with no instructions and half the screws missing.

“Estoy embarazada,” you say again, because you’re pretty sure that’s the right way to tell her you’re mortified after spilling your entire glass of wine on her brand-new sofa.

Your high school Spanish teacher would be so proud.

But instead of the expected response, maybe a nervous laugh or string of expletives, Alexia gasps, and her hands fly to her mouth like she’s just heard the Virgin Mary is back for round two. Her eyes flick down to your stomach and back up to your face. The calculation going on behind her eyes is something like 2 + 2 = 5, but you have no idea why.

“I… Oh my God,” she says, her voice all wobbly, like she’s about to cry. “I didn’t… I mean, this is… Are you okay?” She’s speaking in slow, deliberate Spanish now, like you’re suddenly a toddler and not a grown-ass woman who just spilled wine.

You blink at her. “Sí?”

“Madre mía”

-

It starts with a breakfast that makes no sense.

You wake up to the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, which is odd because Alexia barely knows how to operate a toaster without supervision. You stumble out of bed, groggy, and follow the scent of food.

What you find in the kitchen is nothing short of alarming: Alexia, apron-clad and concentrating so hard that she’s actually sticking her tongue out a little, is stirring something in a pot while a blender whirs ominously next to her.

“Buenos días,” she sings out when she notices you standing in the doorway. She’s all smiles, too bright for this early in the morning, and you immediately get suspicious.

“What’s going on?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you take in the sight of an overfull fruit bowl, a plate stacked with multigrain toast, and what appears to be an entire carton of eggs scrambled and ready to be eaten.

“Sit, sit,” she insists, pulling out a chair for you like you’ve suddenly developed a bad back and need assistance. “I made breakfast”

“You… made breakfast,” you repeat, eyeing the smoothie she pours into a glass and slides over to you. It’s an unsettling green color, like pond scum, and you’re not sure it’s fit for human consumption.

“Sí. You need to start your day with lots of nutrients.” She’s practically bouncing on her toes, like a Labrador eager to please.

You blink at the smoothie, then back at her. “Since when did you learn how to use the Nutribullet?”

She doesn’t answer directly, just gives you an encouraging smile that feels a little too close to a grimace. “Drink up. It’s good for you”

You take a tentative sip, and it’s like drinking liquid grass mixed with what you can only hope is kale. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No!” She’s almost offended, but there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice that you can’t quite place. “It’s full of vitamins. Good for… energy”

You stare at her, but she just stares back, eyes wide and almost… expectant.

“Okay,” you say slowly, deciding to let this weirdness slide, for now. Maybe she’s on a trendy new health kick. Or maybe it’s an early birthday surprise gone wrong. Either way, you down the smoothie in a few brave gulps, trying not to think about the fact that it tastes like lawn clippings.

Alexia beams at you when you finish, like you’ve just accomplished something monumental. “Bien, bien. Now, sit tight. I’ll get the rest”

She practically skips back to the stove, where she starts piling eggs and toast onto a plate. You don’t even bother asking why she’s suddenly turned into Martha Stewart; you’re too busy wondering if you’ve somehow walked into a parallel universe.

It’s only later, after you’ve forced down an absurd amount of scrambled eggs, that she starts talking about how “important it is to stay healthy” and how she’s “going to take care of everything from now on,” which sounds sweet but also vaguely threatening.

You brush it off, chalking it up to some kind of weird phase. After all, everyone gets weird sometimes, right?

-

By day two, you’re starting to suspect that something is seriously wrong.

It begins with a confrontation over laundry, specifically, the fact that you’re not allowed to do any. At all.

“I’ve got it,” Alexia says, practically wrestling the basket out of your hands when you attempt to head for the washing machine.

You try to grab it back, but she holds it over her head like some ridiculous game of keep-away. “What is with you?”

“You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” she says, so earnestly it makes your brain short-circuit for a second.

“It’s a basket of clothes,” you argue, “not a sack of bricks. And I lift heavier things at the gym every day”

She shakes her head, not budging. “No. Let me do it. Just relax”

You gape at her, watching as she carries the laundry to the washing machine like it’s a ticking time bomb. She’s being weirdly gentle, placing the clothes in like they might shatter if she drops them too hard.

Then there’s the vitamin situation. You’re sitting on the freshly cleaned sofa, flipping through channels, when Alexia plops down beside you with a clatter of bottles and packages.

“Take these,” she says, handing you an array of supplements that looks like it belongs on the shelf of a pharmacy. There are multivitamins, folic acid, omega-3s, and some other pill you can’t even pronounce.

“What is this?” You hold up the folic acid like it’s a foreign object. “I’m not trying to hatch an egg here”

“Just take them,” she insists, pushing the bottles toward you. “They’re good for you”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing these are good for is draining my will to live,” you mutter, but she gives you that look, the one that’s all big hazel eyes and soft smiles, and you end up taking them just to get her to stop hovering.

When you try to go for a run that afternoon, she practically tackles you at the door.

“Maybe you should rest,” she suggests, like she’s trying to steer a toddler away from a busy street. “You know, take it easy for a bit”

“Take it easy?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not 80. And since when do you care about rest days? You’re usually the one dragging me to the gym at 6 AM”

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again like a fish gasping for air. “It’s important to be careful”

“Careful of what, exactly?”

She hesitates, and you catch a flicker of something in her expression, nervousness, maybe? Fear? Whatever it is, it’s weirding you out. “Just… you know, careful”

You’re about to argue, but she gives you a kiss on the forehead, all soft and sweet, and you end up staying in just to avoid making things even more bizarre.

-

By day three, you’re done. Absolutely, 100% done.

It starts with the breakfast smoothies, again. This time, it’s a vibrant pink concoction that tastes like liquid chalk mixed with berries, and you’re pretty sure it’s the same smoothie you saw in a TV ad for pregnancy supplements once.

When Alexia starts lecturing you on the importance of hydration, while handing you a liter of water with electrolytes, you decide it’s time to get to the bottom of this.

“Alexia,” you say, setting the water down with a definitive thud, “we need to talk”

She glances at you, clearly nervous, and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. “About what?”

“About why you’re acting like I’m a fragile little baby bird that needs to be protected from all the big, scary things in life,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Her face flushes, and she avoids your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I just-, I want to take care of you”

“I appreciate that,” you say, softening just a little, “but you’ve gone full-on helicopter mode. And it’s freaking me out”

She looks at you for a long moment, then sighs like she’s been carrying the weight of the world.

“You didn’t tell me,” she says, voice soft like she’s whispering state secrets. “How long? I mean… when did you find out?”

You stare at her, a mental Rolodex flipping through every interaction you’ve had over the last few days, searching for the moment when you apparently lost your mind. “Find out what?”

“That you’re…” She trails off, wide-eyed, and then whispers, like she’s on a soap opera, “Pregnant”

There’s a beat of silence. And then another one. You feel like someone just turned off the power in your brain. You’re pregnant? No, no, no. Last you checked, you were just really bad at pouring wine.

“Wait,” you finally say, holding up a hand to stop her from offering you yet another pillow or maybe a foot rub. “Pregnant?”

Alexia’s eyebrows are practically in her hairline. “You said you’re embarazada”

Oh. Oh. Oh no.

“Alexia,” you say slowly, enunciating like you’re the one explaining the IKEA instructions now. “I said I’m embarrassed. Not pregnant. Embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated because I thought I ruined your sofa with a ten-euro bottle of red”

She looks like she’s buffering, trying to load what you just said. “Embarazada… means pregnant, in Spanish”

Ah, the joys of faux amis, false friends, words that sound like they should mean the same thing but are actually waiting to sabotage you like linguistic landmines. Your high school Spanish teacher can take a hike.

You wipe away a tear, trying to catch your breath. “Alexia… I told you I was embarrassed. Imbarazzato doesn’t mean pregnant in Italian, it means mortified. Humiliated. Just how I felt when I spilled that wine and thought I ruined your furniture”

“Wait,” Alexia says, her brow furrowing in that cute, confused way you’d normally find adorable if she weren’t in the middle of thinking you’re harbouring a tiny human in your uterus. “So you’re not…?”

“No!” You laugh, a little hysterically because, seriously, how did you get here? “I’m not pregnant. We’re both women. How would that even work? I mean, unless there’s something about human biology I missed in school, I’m pretty sure that’s not in the cards for us”

Her eyes widen as the realisation hits, and then she groans, burying her face in her hands. “Dios mío, I’m such an idiot”

You’re still laughing, but you manage to pat her knee reassuringly. “An adorable idiot, but yeah, kind of”

“Well, you did say ‘embarazada,’” she points out. “How was I supposed to know you just meant you were embarrassed?”

You shrug. “Maybe when I didn’t start eating pickles and ice cream? Or asking for your jersey for when the baby arrives?”

“Touché.” She’s still grinning, that big, beautiful smile that makes you forgive her for thinking you were about to drop a baby bomb on her. “So, you’re just embarrassed”

“Yes. Very. And I’m also very much not pregnant. I’m sorry for confusing you”

She sighs, exaggerated like she’s relieved, and you both start laughing again, the awkward tension from the past few days melting away. But there’s still a mischievous glint in her eye, one that makes you a little wary.

“What?” you ask, knowing full well you’re about to regret it.

“Well, since you’re not pregnant,” she says slowly, leaning closer with that flirty smirk you love and hate in equal measure, “how about we do something about that embarrassment?”

She wiggles her eyebrows, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, so now that I’m not a fragile incubator, you’re all over me?”

“Exactamente,” she says, pulling you into her lap with surprising ease, even for someone who regularly benches more than your body weight. “Besides, I have to make sure you’re really not pregnant”

“Alexia,” you say, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when she starts nuzzling your neck, “that’s not how this works, remember?”

She grins against your skin, pressing a teasing kiss to your collarbone. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You push her back just enough to meet her eyes, raising an eyebrow. “But if you want to keep treating me like a queen, I’m not going to complain”

“Deal,” she says, her voice softening, her hand resting on your cheek. “But next time you’re embarrassed, can you please just say it in Italian, or English?”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Sure, but only if you promise not to freak out the next time I spill something”

“No promises,” she murmurs, pulling you closer, “but I’ll try”

[s0lar-ch3ri]

i actually wanna try this hang on (may or may not be show dont tell, sorry)

As she eyed around the room, the smile didn't leave either. That didn't hide the sweat running down her cheek either. The swaying above wasn't helping it, and eventually, she stopped. She wanted to say something, it was evident, yet she stopped. Maybe she didn't have a voice, or maybe the anvil would fall when hearing it. The pressure wasn't her style, so I nodded to her to inform her I was almost done solving this. Still trying to keep calm, she sat down, listening to the buttons press into the computer as I wrote this final line.

Click.

OP turned off the reblogs on this bc it was clogging their notifs but I just wanted to say that the notes on this are so funny like ppl are SO BAD at reading for tone and intent.

Like OP clearly wasn't proposing this as an actual challenge, but commenting on the fact that fandom tends to flatten female characters' personalities into a set of popular prepackaged fandom buzzwords and soundbites, and every fandom person in a 1000km radius decided to immediately

1) interpret it as an actual fun challenge to take a crack at

2) in doing so, invent so many novel and inventive ways to reduce female characters' personalities to prepackaged soundbites and buzzwords.

[isak-dot-gov]

Two sides of Nika

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Word count: 1322

My masterlist :)

....................................................

To most of the UConn basketball team, Nika Mühl was a force to be reckoned with. On the court, she was fierce, intense, and unapologetically blunt. Her competitiveness often came across as rudeness, and she didn’t shy away from letting her teammates know when they weren’t pulling their weight. If a play didn’t go as planned, Nika’s sharp words would echo in the gym, cutting through the air like a knife. She was demanding, serious, and laser-focused on winning—traits that earned her respect, but also a fair share of frustration from her teammates.

“Nika, you’ve gotta chill,” Aubrey muttered after yet another tough practice, where Nika’s barking had reached an all-time high. “We’re all working hard, you know.”

Nika shot her a glance, still panting from the drills. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw set. “I’ll chill when we stop making basic mistakes,” she snapped, before turning away, clearly not in the mood for further conversation.

Her teammates exchanged looks. This was just Nika. She was tough, but they knew it came from a place of wanting to push everyone to be their best. They respected her leadership and work ethic, but dealing with her intensity every day could be exhausting. It felt like she was always pushing them to the limit, never giving them a break, and never showing a softer side—if she even had one.

Later that week, they got a chance to see a different side of Nika—a side none of them had ever expected.

It was after another gruelling practice. The team was in the locker room, changing and winding down, the air still heavy with the sweat and effort of the day. Laughter and chatter filled the space as the players began to relax, their bodies aching from the drills Nika had relentlessly pushed them through.

Then, there was a soft knock at the door. The sound was almost out of place in the typically loud and energetic atmosphere of the locker room. One of the assistant coaches opened the door, and in walked…you.

You were shorter than most of the players, looking slightly out of place in the world of towering athletes. Your presence drew curious glances, but what really caught everyone’s attention was the immediate shift in Nika’s demeanour. The moment she saw you, her scowl disappeared, replaced by a warm, genuine smile—something her teammates had rarely, if ever, seen.

“Nika!” you called out, your voice bright and cheerful as you made your way through the locker room, completely unbothered by the intimidating atmosphere that had been looming just moments before.

Nika’s teammates watched in stunned silence as she practically glided over to you, all traces of her usual seriousness gone. She reached you in a few strides and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground effortlessly.

“Hey, babe,” Nika said, her voice soft and full of affection. She set you down gently, her hands lingering on your waist as she looked down at you with a grin that could light up the room.

The other players were frozen in disbelief. Was this the same Nika Muhl who had been barking orders at them just an hour ago? The same Nika who rarely cracked a smile during practice, let alone let anyone get close to her?

“Babe?” Aubrey whispered to one of her teammates, who shrugged, equally shocked.

You smiled up at Nika, oblivious to the eyes on you. “I brought you a smoothie,” you said, holding up a cup. “I know you’ve been working hard.”

Nika’s expression softened even more, and she took the smoothie from you with a nod of thanks. “You’re the best,” she murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The team watched in silence, too stunned to speak. This was a side of Nika they had never seen—a side they hadn’t even known existed. She was sweet, gentle, and so incredibly soft with you, a stark contrast to the tough, no-nonsense persona she usually wore like armour.

You glanced around and finally noticed the curious looks from her teammates. You gave them a small wave, your smile easy and inviting. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you guys.”

One of the players, still in shock, managed to stammer out a response. “Uh, hi. We…didn’t know Nika had a soft side.”

You laughed, glancing up at your girlfriend, who rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, she does. She just saves it for special people.”

Nika nudged you gently, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t let them fool you,” she said, her tone lighter than the team had ever heard it. “They’re the special ones too—they just don’t get smoothies.”

That broke the tension, and the team finally relaxed, exchanging amused glances. Aubrey stepped forward, still trying to wrap her head around what she was seeing. “You’re telling me that this Nika,” she pointed at the smiling, affectionate woman in front of her, “is the same one who nearly took my head off during drills today?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked up at Nika with a playful smirk. “Is that true?”

Nika groaned but couldn’t hide the small smile on her face. “I was just trying to get everyone to play their best. You know how it is.”

You chuckled and shook your head, turning back to her teammates. “She’s intense because she cares,” you said with a wink. “But trust me, she’s a big softie underneath all that.”

The team shared a laugh, finally seeing the layers of Nika that had been hidden beneath her tough exterior. In that moment, they realised that there was more to their teammate than the demanding leader they saw on the court. She had a heart, and it was you who brought out the best in her.

As you and Nika left the locker room together, hand in hand, the team watched you go, still processing the scene they had just witnessed.

“Wow,” one of them said, shaking her head. “I guess there really is someone for everyone.”

Aubrey nodded thoughtfully, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. And it looks like Nika found her someone.”

Back on the court, Nika’s intensity might not have wavered, but her teammates now saw her in a new light. When she barked orders or pushed them harder, they couldn’t help but think of the softer side she showed when you were around. It humanised her, made her less of an enigma, and more relatable in a way they hadn’t expected.

A few days later, after another tough practice, Aubrey noticed Nika pulling out her phone as soon as they hit the locker room. The usual tension in Nika’s shoulders melted away as soon as she looked at the screen, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Texting Y/N?” Aubrey asked, a playful smirk on her face.

Nika glanced up, her tough exterior cracking just enough to let a blush creep onto her cheeks. “Yeah. She’s picking me up today,” she admitted, her tone softer than usual.

Aubrey grinned. “You know, you’re not as scary as you think when she’s around.”

Nika chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it,” she warned, but the smile never left her face.

And though Nika continued to push her teammates to their limits on the court, they couldn’t help but smile every time they caught a glimpse of that rare, softer side. You had brought something out in Nika that they hadn’t known existed—a gentleness, a vulnerability that balanced out her intensity. It was clear that you were her anchor, the one person who could calm the storm that raged within her.

And for that, they were grateful. Because while Nika Mühl was still the fierce competitor they needed on the court, you had shown them that she was also human—capable of love, tenderness, and softness, even if it was reserved just for you.

..........................................................

Isak speaks: I mainly wrote this because her saying, "You see the curls for the girls?" has been stuck in my head all day. Might make a masterlist tn so its easier to find me stuff in between all the other posts. My requests are still open btw:)

[thewritetofreespeech]

Mark Grayson "i want the k"

i want the k: 17 - An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

The walk back to the car was tense. Mark wasn’t saying anything and it was starting to make you a little uncomfortable. “Are you going to pout the whole time?”

“…No…” Mark replied with a pretty serious pout. Apparently that one words let the flood gates open and he just started rambling. “They just ruined the whole thing! Like, why would you have a completely set series, with fans, and then just like totally make something else up! It just doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know your disappointed babe. Seance Dog would be too.” He had been looking forward to the Seance Dog movie since it was announced and for it to be a total flop was a real gut punch for Mark. “Look on the bright side, maybe since the movie was so crap, they do a limited series in a few years. That seems to be the trend these days.”

“Do you really think so?” Mark looked so hopeful, but that look was quickly dashed as you both heard the sound of a crash & screaming.

“TRIMBLE AT THE MIGHT OF HYPERION!!”

“Oh for the love of….”

You came up beside Mark after unlocking the car and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just can’t catch a break, can you babe?”

Mark let out a heavy sigh in agreement, then in a blink was back beside you but in his uniform. “I’ll be back. Start heading out of here back for your place just in case.” You nodded as Mark began to levitate off the ground. You didn’t know a lot about supervillains, but he didn’t seem too tough; still better safe than sorry.

Before Mark took off though, you smirk and shout up at him, “hey Invincible!” He turned to look back at you and you told him, “if you win I’ll make us smoothies and we can watched that new animated series you’ve been asking me about.”

Mark grinned, then did a little back flip in the air until he was hovering, upside down, in front of you. “You’re the best babe.”

He gave you a quick kiss and you held on to the sides of his mask before letting him right himself to go fight crime. You checked your phone before you left. If you went to the store now, you would have all the stuff for smoothies just about the time Mark was finished with that guy.

[thepersonnamedsam]

helloo, just wondering if I could request an imagine for gen z driver and everything that happened last weekend in Qatar! How the heat affected her, and maybe something dramatic and how the other drivers, fans and teams maybe worried about her, thank u sm<3

a random day in my life in f1

pairing: the genz!driver x 23!grid

summary: a vlog about our beloved genz!drivers day in the paddock

word count: 2k

warnings: none

note: merry christmas and a happy new year!

thanks for staying with me this year and into the new one :)

it’s not exactly like you asked and i’m sorry for that… but this has been sitting in my drafts for sooo long, and i just had to like give it some meaning…

masterlist / taglist

The vlogging camera was always secured somewhere in her bags, but she almost never used it. Being overwhelmed fast by all of the other cameras, she didn’t want to create herself more anxiety. But today was different.

„Hi guys!“ Her face appeared on the screen. Much too close, you could almost see her pimples she got from her sweaty balaclava.

The camera swayed and the paddock was shown. „We‘re here in Qatar, it’s beautiful. It is-“, the video switched to her watch „-2pm on a Thursday, that means Free Practice!“

Light music played in the background of the video, but you could still hear the busy paddock. People talking and walking in the background. Sometimes there would even be shouting, but y/n didn’t care, she just smiled into the camera.

„I’ll take you with me through my day! Are you excited? I bet you are“, she smiled. „Uhm, Qatar is a night race, as many of you probably know… but FP1 is still in daylight, which I’m glad, because I can actually see the track and not just feel it-“, she gestures the curves of the track with her hand „-you know? Yea…“, she mumbles the last part.

The video switches to a different setting. y/n now standing inside of her garage: „I have to be careful what I show here, it’s like Hippa in hospitals“, she laughs, „with privacy and all, we don’t want the other teams to know what strategies we’ve been working on.“

„But that’s my car“, she points to the newly polished F1 car, „she got a new look just for this race, can you believe it?“ The camera sways around the car to show off the new design.

„It’s really hot here, make sure to drink enough guys!“ An animation of a glass being filled with water appeared on the screen. „If it works, you should see some water right now“, the young driver grins.

The view changes again, this time to her watch: „We have 3.30pm, it’s time for me to warm up, but I’m actually already very hot, so maybe my trainer will let me off?“ She looks expectantly at her trainer, who only shakes his head no. „Aww man, worth a shot though.“

She placed the camera on the ground to film her warmup. The timelapse shows how she starts to lightly jog on the place. Her trainer starts to throw tennis balls at her. You couldn’t hear it in the video, but he shouts with which hand she has to catch the ball.

The music was catchy and in best with her rope jumping. y/n face was red and she was sweating extremely. She was puffing and breathing heavily. In this humid weather, even inside the cooling garage, it was hard to train. How would she survive in an already 40° hot car, for over 50 laps?

The music stops, so does the timelapse. You can see y/n breathing loud as she laid on the floor. Her head turned towards the camera and she smiles lightly. „Phew, never doing that again“, she laughs.

The video changes again, as y/n walks down the paddock to visit some of her friends: „I’m on my way to the McLaren hospitality. Lando and I have that tradition for Free Practice. We always get a smoothie before, so we don’t have to drink some weird protein shake.“

The view sways around and you can see the bright orange from McLaren. You could hear Lando before he was even in the video. His laugh loud and prominent. „Hi y/n‘s fans!“, he waves into the camera.

„This is Lando Norris, if you didn’t know. He drives for McLaren!“, she explains to her viewers. „I hope they know who I am…“, Lando pouts. She shushes him and giggles.

„What smoothie are you gonna get?“, she asks Lando. „McLaren hospitality has the best smoothies, I swear. Mine doesn’t even have smoothies, can you believe that?“

„Uhm, I think I’ll get the green one, I don’t want to hear anything from Jon, so that’s the only safe option“, he sighs. y/n grimaces, as the green smoothie tastes the worst.

„I think I want the red one, the one with the dragonfruit in it, so I can fly through this Free Practice like a dragon“, she laughs.

Lando rolls his eyes but still has to laugh at her shitty joke. „That was such a bad joke.“ - „But you love me anyway“, y/n grins.

You see y/n full on sweaty and with a red head. „Free Practice is done, it was hot, like really hot, Imma hop into my ice bath for a second and yea. I’ll probably go to the Hotel after to cool down, so I’m fully prepared for Qualifying.“

A shot of the pink rubber duck floating in the ice bath was shown. The duck was flipped and it showed the temperature of the water. 8°C. Perfect for a hot day like this.

„Ohh, I’m almost vaporising“, y/n laughs as she submerges in the water. „My skin is so hot and the water so cold, it’s like I’m the hot metal they put into water, I love this videos, I binge watch them before I go to sleep“, she confesses.

„Anyway, have you seen my pink ducky? I got it from Carlos! I was jealous of his, so he bought me my own temperature duck, isn’t that sweet?“

The next shot was y/n in her hotel room. She was laying in her bed, scrolling through her phone and occasionally laughing. The view was amazing, the sun was setting and you could see so much of Qatar.

„Good morning! It’s Friday then, it’s Saturday, Sunday, what?“

„Welcome“, she laughs, „I’m eating breakfast together with Max, say hi Max!“, Max waves into the camera. „I’m eating Avocado Toast with some Salmon - good fats for my body and Max is eating, actually, what are you eating Max?“

The view changes to Max‘ plate. There was a mix of different things, like some roaster potatoes and beans and some weird, almost wool like thing on his plate. „It’s potatoes, beans and some sauerkraut“, he explains. „What? Sauerkraut?“ - „Yea, I don’t know, apparently it’s good for your body.“

y/n makes a face of disgust and the screen goes black for a second.

„Okay, Q1 and Q2 are finished, got stuck in Q2, but I’m glad I don’t have to start in Q3 honestly, I can focus on the Sprint Shootout later. It’s hot in the car, hotter than usual.“

The scene changes, again to y/n laying exhausted on the floor. From the side you can see Oscar creeping up with a big glass of water. The moment the water hits y/n‘s skin, she’s up and about chasing the rookie.

„Oscar!“ And she sprints out of the view. The screen goes black and then you can see Oscar’s wet hair and two smiley young drivers. „She dumped me“, he huffs. „Into the water“, she says for clarification.

„It’s race day!“, she screams into the camera. „Well sprint day“, she says less excited. „I hate driving in these conditions. It’s way too hot, I’d rather drive on ice than this.“

The scenery changes again, cars driving around the parking lot. „I came here with Charles and Carlos, we’re staying at the same hotel and to save our carbon footprint, with all the excessive driving we do anyway, we thought we carpooled.“

You can see Charles driving and Carlos sitting in the passenger seat. „They wouldn’t let me drive, even though I’m an F1 driver“, she sighs. You can hear Carlos laugh and say: „Have you seen your driving style on the street? No way I would sit in that car.“

The young woman shakes her head and tuts. „You wouldn’t understand“, she whispered into the camera. Charles laughs.

„You know, for you being Australian, you’re still very sweaty.“ - „What? I’m not sweaty, that’s my natural glow“, Daniel laughs. „Natural for sure“, she mumbles.

„What even are you doing? You’ve been walking around with that thing for the past three days“, Danny asks. „I’m vlogging!“ - „You’re what?“, he asks confused. „You’re old, that’s what you are. It’s like blogging but with a video, so it’s vlogging“, she explains with a sigh. The older out of the two just makes an ‚oh‘ sound and laughs.

„I wanted to make a ‚a random day in my life in f1‘ video but it turned out to be a ‚a random four days in my life in f1‘ video.“

Fernando looks confused at y/n. „What?“, he blinks at her. „You know, it should’ve been a video about one day, now it’s about the whole race week“, she explains. „Ahh, okay“, Fernando answers, still unsure what the younger driver tries to explain him. „You wanna say hi?“, she asks him.

„Hi“, he replies. Fernando was not yet in view, but you could hear him. „Into the camera, Nando. You know how this works, you’ve done press and TikTok!“

„Hi“, he says again, this time Fernandos forehead was in excellent view. You could hear y/n‘s giggles as he took the camera out of her hand. „This is for my wife, Taylor, who’s cheating with another athlete!“

The camera was set down and Fernando stood up. „What are you doing?“, y/n‘s giggles continued. „Play Cardigan by Taylor Swift please“, he whisper shouts. As soon as the music begins, Fernando dances and sings to it.

„This is me before the sprint“, y/n looks into the camera and holds up a piece sign, „And this is me after the sprint.“ Face red and puffy. „Athletes sweat, I‘m a real athlete“, she quotes Daniel.

The camera sways to Oscar, who won his first race/sprint. „How do you feel, Mr. Piastri?“ - „I’m hot and sweaty, I wanna drown myself in an iceberg or something.“

„Yea same“, she huffs. „Listen, this race is exhausting. We drive in an unnormal heat, alone in the car it’s 40°C when the outside temperature is like 20°C. But the outside temperature here is already like 40°C, imagine what it’s like inside our cars.

This is for the FIA: I lost like 7kg this sprint race alone, just from sweating. What about you, Os?“ - „I don’t know if I want to say anything to the FIA“, he says lowly. „Ahh, they won’t see that anyway“, she reassures him. „I lost like eight pounds, maybe?“ - „How much is that in kilograms?“, she asks him slowly. He laughs and says: „Maybe 3.5kg.“

„Mr. Verstappen how many kilograms did you lose today?“, she shouts over the paddock. Max halts and turns around to face the camera that was shoved in his face.

„The scale says five, why? How much did you lose?“ - „Seven! Can you believe that?“

„This race really is torture, and we only raced, what, 16 laps? I don’t know.“ - „Can’t wait for tomorrow“, Lando sighs.

The screen goes black for a second again, before the same music started from her warm up at Free Practice. The timelapse begins again and you can see y/n sweating.

Occasionally she sits down to have a sip of water, but her trainer gets her up again. Her face appears wide in front of the camera and she starts to sing the lyrics as the music fades.

„Race day, baby, hoping for a good result today! I feel it in my sweat that I’ve been losing over the past few days“, she jokes.

She gets filmed as she gets into her car, it’s being rolled out of the garage and she makes the shaka with both her hands.

We get a few scenes as she drives past the start line and as she crosses the finish line, the radio messages was overlaid on the video.

„That is P4, baby!“, her race engineer shouted. „Yes! C‘mon! I almost fainted the last three laps, but totally worth it!“

You can see the podium being filmed from the ground. Max won, of course but; „Oscar and Lando! Woohoo! P2 and P3 for my Papaya Boys“, she screams as the McLaren drivers received their trophy.

The video ends with y/n sneaking into the room where they celebrated their podium in private. They were all exhausted.

„You reek of sweat and champagne“, y/n says from behind the camera. All three laugh and Max throws his towel at her camera. The screen goes black.

Comments 3.2K

user i- what was this?

user2 love, love, LOVE the smoothie tradition

user3 qatar should be banned from the schedule

user4 what do you mean, you almost fainted on the last 3 laps? what is going on?

user5 i heard lance almost fainted too

user6 this is cruel, but also love the content

user7 I WANT TO CRADLE HER AND TELL HER EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND THAT SHE CAN TAKE AN ICY SHOWER

user8 kimi would’ve walked straight to his yacht

user9 nando’s so right playing cardigan

user10 I KNEW YOU, PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK AND GIVING ME YOUR WEEKENDS!

youtube this was… eventful?

user11 ariana, what are you doing here?

user12 that’s so old

user13 shut up, they’re probably from all the tiktok edits here on yt

user11 what’s tiktok?

user14 love the new content

f1 wowza, y/n is just stealing our job! next stop: y/n hosts grill the grid

°°°

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[s0lar-ch3ri]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO @justyouraverageleafykinnie AND @dogboyratgirl TAKE THE SILLIES

tw theyre fluffy and sweet in this so yeah (also long. also will maybe post to ao3 someday idrk)

title is "together we can figure it out!" a bears in trees lyric

this fic features lint from wonderlust as well as wonderlust ocs of my friends :3 (I AM NOT CAUGHT UP WITH WONDERLUST DO NOT EXPECT TO GET FUTURE EP REFS I DONT MIND SPOILERS IM JUST SAYING)

description: It's Aluntine's day (or their world's Valentine's day), and for strange, almost 100% homosexual reasons, Lint can't do anything but find his way back to Apple.

Lint had faced many Aluntines days inside the bakery with his mom, just making cookies. Couples came in, grabbed sweet little treats for their sweet little treats (that isn't incredible wording, maybe he hangs out by Troy too much), and left. It wasn't a lonely time, not when it made business. As he looks across the tables before opening, things feel different.

"You alright Bumblebee?"

Lint half-buzzes back a response. It's not even opening time, he needs to keep it together. Come on!

"Repeat that?"

He buzzes a bit more, less responding to the question and more mumbling to himself. Nothing else is different, nothing's too special about today, well maybe minus...

He leaves the bakery, off to find his sweet little treat.

Apple is not expecting much today. Yes, this time around, Apple could have gone with Lint somewhere nice, however he knew Lint was busy today at the bakery, so maybe he would bug him after. In the meantime, Apple was working on writing something. The plan was simple: finish this, check on the orchard, maybe visit the bakery and see that bee, all that good stuff.

Just like how he changed his life, Lint had changed his plans. With a jumpscare that made Apple fall out his chair, a special bee came buzzing in. All of Apple's panic faded into something softer seeing the culprit of the noise. He sighs a bit.

"Hello, sugarfly."

"I...I feel strange." Lint stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Apple repositions himself so they sit up better.

"Go on."

"I thought today was gonna be a normal day, but it just...doesn't. And I didn't know where to go so..."

"Of course." Apple starts cleaning up his writing supplies. He can finish it later.

"Do you uh- how do you ask this sort of thing..."

Apple bleats curiously.

"Do you want to be my Alumni? I just...I don't know. We can uh, hang out, like always, but, special? Not really? Help me out here..."

Apple giggles. "Of course darling."

He buzzes excitedly and Apple can't help but grin at him. I mean, when it's a nice day outside, pretty and basically shining, who could help themself?

"What were you thinking of?"

Lint sinks a bit into himself. Oh cog, he didn't think of something big. Or, uh, anything. What did Mars say? Deep breaths? He takes a couple, in for 7, hold for 6, release for 5. Surely Apple wouldn't mind. He hates liars anyways.

"I uh...I don't know. I just knew I had to come to you."

"That's okay! We can figure it out together!"

Cog that goat was pretty. No, Lint, focus! You have to give them the best date he's ever seen! Just how…

“Maybe a nice restaurant?”

“They may be all reserved out babydoll…”

“Oh…Does my place sound nice?”

“Always does.”

Did it feel silly to take Apple from their house to bee’s? Yes, but to be fair, there were specific things Lint needed there to make sure this was perfect. Apple deserved nothing less.

Walking in, she hears some commotion from the kitchen, mostly just grumbling and the sounds of the assembly of a gift. Looking past his neutral green walls into the kitchen with its purple walls, he sees Troy, bright red and looking just pissed. He angrily puts a ribbon around a set of orchids colored with mint and blue orchids. Despite his pissed…everything, Troy handles the flowers with much care.

“Something wrong Champion?”

“JAX.”

 “Is he-”

“THAT STUPID PRETTY BOY BASTARD ASKED ME ON A DATE BEFORE I COULD AND I NEED TO BEAT HIM WITH MY SLED. ALSO MAYBE KISS HIM.”

“You go do that love.”

Troy stomps by him, grabbing his face gently and kisses his cheek. Lint giggles, which sounds a bit like a buzz. He buzzes a lot. That wasn’t a bad thing, he hopes. Maybe he should just set up the movie.

“We uh, we’ve gotten a lot of movies. There’s Ratatoing- that’s not a good one, there’s Cloverfield, Jax may have left around his strange ‘Ratnarok’ documentaries or something- what interests you?”

“Uhhhh, all of them?”

“Love Rattually it is.”

As Apple helps with selecting the movie, he sets up the couch with its assortment of pillows and blankets. One is plain and fuzzy, a muted green, another a felt one with sunflowers on it. Lint grabs some pretzels and popcorn in the kitchen, he also prepares 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, and one for his heaven send.

Apple is still by the couch, sitting, waiting for Lint. He holds the letter he had planned to give Lint later that day, going over each carefully plucked and nurtured word. Lint had brought lights to his days that he would have known from no other being or aspect of living, the least he can do is give him something of perfection. Lint deserves nothing less.

He adds a couple details to it and carefully folds it so as to not crease it. He hopes it’s good enough. They finish the set up as footsteps come on by them behind the couch. Lint holds his arms around Apple from above as bee places in his hands a cup of coffee.

“Got you a cup! Made with love.” Lint is buzzing with joy, putting his head on Apple’s shoulder. Apple takes this as the chance to pepper him slightly with kisses, but like any well made dish, too much seasoning- well here it just made him giggle and light-heartedly protest.

“Let me put my cup down first angel!” He smiles and snickers and Apple feels his heart flutter around and he gains another reason to love him.

Lint climbs over into the blankets and snuggles up next to Apple as they play some movies, drinking coffee. At certain parts, Apple turns his gaze back to Lint and sometimes Lint’s looking at him. As eyes meet, the boys giggle as they give each other compliments and flirts and kisses. As their binging goes on, their energy simmers down with the time, fading into simple cuddling on the couch. Cups sit on the table, basically empty, with the TV’s hum as natural to the environment as Lint’s buzzing was to him. He adored this bee beyond words.

He carefully wriggles his letter out from his pocket, using the blue light to guide his reading ability.

‘’Dearest sweetest bee I’ve known, Lint

There are many things I want to tell you. I want to tell you how you are the light of my days and how no sun nor star could outshine you. I want to tell you how your voice is a gracious melody, with each note and buzz writing a harmonious tune I wish to hold forever. I want to tell you how I could count the stars that trail the sky and name all the shades of its majesty and not once could I think of a world where it’d be a more beautiful sight then the warmth of your smile. I want to tell you how you’ve taken my world and sculpted it to a more magical and wondrous one then I could have arrived too. I want to tell you how the ideas of love and friendship were carefully taught to me by the wondrous bee you are. I want to tell you how you’re the sweetest nectar I’ve tried and I’ve never felt once a need to find another.

There are many things I want to tell you. Maybe I can settle with a few words. I love you Lint, you are a shining star, thank you, I love you, thank you.

All the love I can give,

Apple’’

He’s still unsure if all he’s wanted to say is there, if that’s what bee would understand is true. Thoughts swarm Apple’s head, like a wasp hive, aiming for his heart. Before he gets lost in his mind, Apple hears a small faint buzz from a special someone under his head. He seemed to have fallen asleep a bit ago. The small reminder grounds Apple and his heart calms down with him. He’s got someone too close to there to be so worried. He remembers Lint’s words before, what he didn’t exactly say but was always there.

I didn't know where to go so I came to you.

Apple smiles a bit, closing his eyes and falling for the background TV ambience himself. Together they will figure it out.

[lewisvinga]

mayor que yo | max verstappen x pérez! reader

summary; max doesn’t care that checo’s sister is older than him. he just wants her no matter the age difference.

warnings; age gap but only by like 3-4 years😭 mentions of sex, reader is implied to be mexican ( duhhhh ) a bit of google translated spanish bc im too tired to mentally translate english to spanish

word count; 740

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; this song is so good too

masterlist !

back to old school masterlist.

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Max always cherished the few quiet moments he had in the roaring world of Formula One. He liked having moments of peace in his motorhome between practice sessions and media duties.

This is partially why he was so annoyed when hearing loud and quick Spanish followed by laughter coming from the motorhome of his new teammate.

Max liked Checo. He’s a cool guy. However, at that moment, he did not like him for bringing whoever it was making all the commotion.

He checked the time and sighed, knowing he had to leave the comfort of his motorhome. He grumbled as he put his phone back in his pocket, and opened the door. He didn’t expect to be met with deep brown eyes and a warm smile.

“Oh, Max! This is my baby sister,” Checo quickly introduced his sister to his new teammate who looked confused.

Before he could say anything, he was pulled into a tight hug by his teammate's sister. The warm scent of jasmine filled the air as he nervously hugged her back. “I’m Y/n. It’s so great to finally meet you!” She exclaimed as she pulled back, her accent peeking through from excitement.

Max cleared his throat, ignoring the way his heart began to race. “Yeah- It’s nice to meet you too.”

Ever since that day, Y/n was constantly on Max’s mind. Whenever she attended races to support her brother, the Dutch driver could never keep her eyes off her.

He knew she was older than him but just by a few years. He was used to dating women either his age or a bit younger, never older. But the Mexican intrigued him with the way her brown-lined lips always curled into a warm smile when greeting him or the way her hips swayed under the bright lights of a club after a successful race for Red Bull.

She had him curled around her finger. Everybody knew it, even she did.

If she was hanging out in the garage and wanted water? Max would rush to go and grab her one even if he was about to get in his car. If it's cold and windy outside? She’s immediately wrapped in his jacket. Her feet hurt from walking around in her expensive Jimmy Choos? He’ll carry her around in his arms.

It was no secret Max was fond of the younger Perez even though she was older. The other drivers, especially Lando, often teased him about the Dutch driver finding an older and experienced woman.

“Max found himself an older woman and never wants to be with us anymore!” The McLaren driver teased as he saw Max walking by with a pink smoothie in hand.

“You’re just jealous I found a girl.”

“I just don’t want to! Besides, I could find someone my own age.”

Max rolled his eyes as Charles, Daniel, and even a few other drivers started to make teasing remarks. “Age isn’t important anyways.” The Red Bull driver mumbled, mentally cursing at how his ears began to turn red.

He left the group quickly and huffed as he still heard their teasing when mentioning he had to give the strawberry smoothie to Y/n. Frankly, he couldn’t care about their teasing.

Y/n was older than him, yes. But he liked her, a lot. She was experienced, she knew her stuff. It was something he quickly learned late at night when he had her in his arms.

She traced the red lipstick marks on his neck with a long acrylic nail. There was a comfortable silence surrounding them as she quietly hummed a song.

“Max?” Her soft voice broke the silence.

Max simply hummed in reply. His eyes were closed as his head rested on the silky pillows.

“Does me being older not bother you?”

His eyes immediately opened, revealing the blue eyes she fell in love with. He leaned up and rested against the headboard. “What do you mean? I’ve told you countless times, that I don’t care. It’s only a few years, it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just,” Y/n huffed. She rested her head against his bare chest as she looked up at him. “People talk, y’know.”

“No me importa.” [i don’t care] The sudden switch to Spanish made her heart warm up. She knew Max had been trying to learn, wanting to connect with her. He leaned down to place a kiss on her plump lips.

“No me importa que seas mayor que yo.” [i don’t care that you’re older than me]