#you can wait until the end of your third season to start opening up to yaz!!! you cant!!!! this can only end badly for both of you!!!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

It Started With A... || CarLandOscar

Summary: Whoever thought love was limited to one person was an idiot. Love had no limits and you knew that better than most when a rookie found himself carving out a third of your heart. Warnings: established relationships, fluff, angst, pining. WC: 7.5k

It started with a smile. It was stiff and polite and made you pity the rookie who was being introduced to everyone so fast he would surely forget their names. 

“It took me a few months, but you’ll figure out who is who,” you encouraged him as the welcome committee went back to work in the factory and Oscar looked for guidance on where he was meant to go next. 

“I hope so. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he admitted sheepishly. ���Are you in the PR team?”

You looked down at your black skirt and white blouse and thought you probably did look like someone from PR or legal. “Contrary to belief, I am actually what people would call a PR nightmare,” you said as you held your hand out. “Y/N Y/L/N, Lando’s girlfriend.”

“It's nice to meet you. I suppose I’ll see you around here a lot then.”

You smiled ruefully and shook your head. “I’m studying at Royal Holloway but we wanted to be here for your first day so we stopped by.”

You looked around for Lando and found him returning from the cafeteria with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. “I wondered where you went,” you teased as you happily accepted the hot drink and the kiss he placed on your cheek. 

“Figured you needed this, love. I kept you up pretty late for a school night.” Lando nudged Oscar and winked. 

The Australian’s ears turned pink and you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's humour. “He was steaming until some ridiculous hour this morning. You’ll probably find him crashed out on a couch somewhere this afternoon while I will be struggling through lab tech.”

“You’re the smartest person I know, I don’t think you even need to go to class.” Lando tipped your chin back, giving you a deep kiss without care that his new teammate was watching the interaction. “We should go, love, don’t want to make you late again. You want to come for a ride too?”

“Shouldn’t I go inside?” Oscar asked as he looked to the double doors that led into the employee only section.

“They want us to do a few icebreaker promo vids to get to know each other so you’ll just be waiting around for me to get back anyway.”

“You should probably get used to that, he likes to keep people waiting,” you joked. 

“When have I ever kept you waiting?”

“I’m still waiting for a win.”

Lando chuckled and playfully swatted your ass. “I’m working on that. Hard.”

You cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb over his pouting bottom lip. “I know you are, baby, and it’s gonna come.”

Oscar cleared his throat and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I can just go wait inside.”

“Nah, come on,” Lando said as he grabbed his keys from his pockets. “You should see where her classes are in case there's an emergency.”

You frowned in confusion. “An emergency?”

“Yeah, like if I’m running late.” Lando draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the handful of reserved parking spots near the front door. “It’s only 15 minutes down the road.”

Lando opened the passenger door to his Range Rover and you glanced at Oscar who just smiled and opened the back door. “I’m okay back here,” he said as he climbed in. You settled into your usual seat but adjusted it to give Oscar’s longer legs some extra room. 

The drive took a little longer with the tail end of rush hour traffic but it seemed to pass quickly with Lando and Oscar making small talk. You could almost feel Lando’s excitement vibrating off him when he spoke about the upcoming season while Oscar was far more reserved. You quickly understood that he was merely the quiet type, not that he wasn’t excited. 

“You should come over for dinner,” Lando said, one hand resting on your thigh while the other steered. “I’m heading back to Monaco this afternoon but I’ll be back for the weekend.”

He squeezed your leg when he caught your eyes dropping down at the reminder. “It’s only a few days, love.”

“I know, doesn’t stop me from missing you.”

Oscar tried to turn his attention to the scenery out the window, feeling intrusive in the intimate moment, but Lando caught his eyes as they glanced over you. “Oscar could keep you company. Maybe you could show him around Surrey?”

Oscar’s eyes widened as if he had been caught red handed and his cheeks flamed again. “I, uh, sure, I mean, you’re probably busy studying though.”

“I can make time. I actually get through it a lot quicker without this distraction in the house. Who would have thought?”

Lando gasped, “Me, a distraction?”

“Mhmm, you always need attention, baby. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

“Good to know.” Lando dropped a lopsided grin and winked before pulling up to the front of the Science Block. “I love you too, and don’t forget Carlos is picking you up this afternoon.” 

You leaned across the gearbox and kissed Lando farewell before turning to Oscar. “It was really lovely to meet you.”

“You too. Should I get your phone number?”

“Asking for my girlfriend’s number in front of me,” Lando scoffed. “Mate, that’s fucking rude.”

You slapped Lando’s arm and he burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face. Classic.”

You smiled apologetically to the Aussie. “I’ll put it in your phone,” you offered as you held out your hand for the device. You quickly entered the number and hit the green icon until your phone rang in your pocket before taking a selfie and adding it to the contact. “There, now you’ll remember who the name belongs to.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, taking the phone back. “I would’ve just put ‘Lando’s Missus’.”

“I like that, you can still update it,” Lando chuckled. “It’s a good title.”

“One I’m still waiting for,” you said as you waved your empty ring finger. The movement drew your attention to the watch on your wrist and you swore as you saw class was about to begin. “Bye, baby, have a safe flight.”

You bundled up your bag but when you reached for the door it was already opening and you gave Oscar a quick hug as you stepped out. “Bye, Osc.”

Half the students had disappeared into the halls and you speed walked up to the heritage building where you would spend the first half of your day.

Lando watched you walk away while Oscar took the front seat. “You’ve done something right,” he commented as he put the SUV in reverse, “it took me two weeks to get a nickname.”

A dark blue Ferrari was surrounded by dozens of students when you left your last class and you cradled your textbooks tighter, prepared to bustle your way in. Carlos had been keeping an eye out and was quick to spot you leaving the building. He moved assertively through the crowd and met you at the edge of the circle so he could use his body to shield you. 

“Nice and inconspicuous,” you teased him when you were safely deposited into the passenger seat.

“Sorry, hermosa, the flight was delayed. I didn’t have time to go home and switch cars.” He drove slowly as the last of the fans moved aside and tried to peer through the tinted glass. “How was school?”

“I didn’t fall asleep, so there’s that,” you said with a yawn and felt Carlos’ hand close around yours as you closed your eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Carlos lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before resting them on his lap. “Lando said you made a new friend.”

You smiled and opened your eyes to see Carlos glancing across the car as he sped along the highway home. “You two are the worst gossips. Oscar’s nice. I think they will get along well as teammates.”

“Better than me?”

“No one could beat you and Lando as teammates, baby, that was pure magic.” You rubbed soothingly along his thigh to reassure him. “I don’t know if he will get more vocal as he gets comfortable but I get the feeling Oscar is just a quiet person. He’s very different from Lando, and you and Daniel, which could be a good thing.”

Carlos chuckled to himself. “It sounds like you have spent a lot of time thinking about him.”

“There may have been moments,” you admitted. “But there was someone I thought about a lot more.”

A wicked grin grew and Carlos’s hand drew yours higher up his leg as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the private property Lando had bought. Set halfway between the McLaren factory and your university, it was the idyllic spot to live and Carlos could fly in from the Ferrari HQ in Maranello whenever he had free time, or, when Lando didn’t want to leave you on your own. 

“And who exactly did you think about?” Carlos asked as the front gates opened. “Was he handsome?”

“Very, very handsome, with dark hair and a sexy accent. And he’s so fucking fit, I could break my teeth on his abs,” you hummed happily as the car pulled into one of the few spaces left in the large garage. “I could go on and on about him. Charles is just-”

“Cha-“ Carlos’ foot fell heavy on the brake and the car jutted to a sharp stop. “Charles!”

Your giggle filled the empty car as Carlos ran around the front and opened your door. The world tipped over as he grabbed you out of the seat and tossed you over his shoulder, swatting your ass as he marched you into the house. 

“I’m sorry, I was joking,” you spluttered between laughing and gasping as he spanked you again. “I was thinking about you, doing something surprisingly similar to this actually, just less clothes.”

The world spun again as he tossed you on the bed and caged you beneath his body, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “You hurt my feelings, mi amor.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and combed a hand through his thick dark hair that had grown in the week he had been gone. “Then let me make it better.”  

It started with a text, asking if you had any recommendations for the local takeaways. It was Oscar’s cheat day and you were feeling like you could use a little pick me up of greasy food so you offered to show him your favourite spot. Carlos had been called away a day earlier than planned so you had the whole house to yourself and its grand size always seemed scary on your own. 

The buzzer from the gates sounded and you hit the remote button to open it after, swearing as you realised you lost track of time. Open textbooks covered the kitchen table and highlighters were strewn amongst them as you tried to colour code the notes you had made on post-its. It was a mess, but it was too late to clean up as Oscar knocked on the front door.

“I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just thought I had time to finish my homework first,” you said as you opened the door and waved him in. You looked down at the grey sweatpants that came from Carlos’ drawer and the hoodie that came from Lando’s, not quite what you had planned to wear into town. “Obviously, I thought wrong. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just get changed real quick.”

“You don’t have to get dressed up,” he said as he took his shoes off and closed the door behind him. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You smiled at the sincerity and gave him a quick hug, inhaling the musky cologne that clung to his shirt. “You’re sweet, Osc, but you’re a rookie and it shows.”

He frowned as you pulled away and started to head to the stairs for the second floor where the bedrooms were. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You paused at the bottom step and looked over your shoulder. “You’ll see in an hour.”

The chicken shop had been almost empty when you entered before the dinner rush but there was a crowd growing outside. You were used to having cameras pointed your way after publicly dating Lando for over two years, but Oscar had only shot to fame in the last month when his infamous tweet aired on Drive to Survive. He hadn’t been known outside of the smaller F2 circle but now he was a household name. 

“I see what you mean,” he said as he did his best to ignore the people knocking on the glass. 

“You get used to it, eventually.” You popped a hot chip in your mouth and chewed it while you watched him, a small frown tugging his brows together. “The trick is deciding early on what your position is.”

“What position?”

“With the fans, the paparazzi, all of it.” You glanced at the window and waved. “When we started dating, Lando tried to protect me from them and hide our relationship but they were like sharks after blood. We found we had more privacy if we acknowledged them, then they just moved on.”

You didn’t try hiding with Carlos so no one ever dug too deep into it. Everyone just assumed you were close friends given how close Lando and him were too. It was easier for everyone to believe you were just friends.

Oscar turned to the glass window and forced a smile before waving to the children. Cameras flashed as the fans got the face shots they wanted and then they dispersed back about their day, with the exception of a few stragglers. “Huh. Are you sure you’re not in PR?”

“I’m sure,” you said with a smirk. You weren’t joking when you said you were a PR nightmare - if the world found out about the unorthodox relationship between you, Lando and Carlos it would be. “I have just been through it all before so I can be your personal guide.”

“Thank you.”

You pushed the leftover plate of fries his way knowing he was probably like every other driver who had the ability to consume three times their weight in carbs on a cheat day. “You can thank me with another dinner date, it beats going cross-eyed studying.”

“I’m not sure your boyfriend would appreciate that,” he said as he dragged the plate of fries closer and finished the last of them.

“Lando appreciated what makes me happy, and he’s secure enough to trust what we have isn’t going anywhere.” 

The idea was foreign to him and you could see the doubt he had about it, but he settled instead for a polite, “That must be nice.”

“Your PR team is going to love you,” you chuckled as you grabbed your wallet to pay. “A driver who actually keeps his thoughts to himself, that’s a rarity.”

Oscar’s long legs quickly overtook you and he had some cash out ready. “I invited you,” he said with a stern look that caught you by surprise. “I’m paying.”

Raising your hands in defeat, you smirked and slipped your wallet back into your handbag. “Yes, sir.”

You watched his eyes linger on your lips before he shook his head of the wayward thought and led the way out of the store. “So what do you usually do when Lando is in Monaco?”

“Carlos usually comes and keeps me company, or I just study. Not exactly the epitome of excitement but it’s my last year and then I’ll go to Monaco too.”

Oscar quietly accepted the knowledge without questioning it, though you could see them swirling in his eyes. He wanted to know about Carlos but he was too polite to ask, or maybe he knew it wasn’t something you could answer. “Well, you have my number so if you get sick of studying you can always call me.”

"You can call me too, Osc.”

Term break arrived with as much turbulence as the plane you took to Austria. On one hand you were excited to be able to travel to a few races but on the other you nervously awaited two assessment results and continuously checked your phone for updates until Carlos locked it in the hotel safe. “You can get it back when you promise to relax.” 

“I won’t relax until I know what I got,” you argued but between him and Lando they distracted you well enough, for a while at least.

“We need to get going,” Lando reluctantly said as he climbed out of bed and tried to restore some control over his mussed hair. “You can have your phone back, but just so we can contact you, not so that you can worry about your damn exams.”

Carlos laughed as he unlocked the safe that also had your passports and valuables stored. “I’m sure she will listen to you,” he said as he handed the phone over and saw the unread text messages from Oscar light up the screen. “Though maybe she won’t have time to check her emails now.”

The two managed to shower in a matter of seconds before they reappeared and sorted through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing red one way and papaya the other. 

“Is Oscar on his way?” Lando asked when he was dressed and ready to go to the track. 

“He’s already there,” you replied, barely looking up from the messages that were coming in rapidfire succession except to kiss Lando goodbye. “And he said you’re going to be late again if you don’t hurry up.”

“I was on time yesterday,” Lando grumbled, pulling his shoes on as he hopped to the door. “I just looked late because I was the last to arrive.”

“Better than coming too soon,” Carlos joked as he leant down to give you a kiss too. “See you later, mi amor.”

You arrived at the track just before the driver’s parade began, when everyone was too busy making their way to the grandstands so the paddock was much easier to navigate. The results had been posted and a smile had been plastered on your face since seeing the grade, but you wanted to tell Lando and Carlos in person. 

“Hey, you’re actually here.” The aussie twang greeted your ears before you turned and found Oscar opening his door opposite Lando’s. “I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination.”

Oscar opened his arms and you stepped into the hug you were pretty sure you had trained him into expecting every time you met. He was already in his fireproof skins and they hugged every inch of his torso so you could feel the muscle that lay beneath. 

“I got in last night,” you said as you brushed a hand through his soft hair and giggled when it flopped back over his forehead. “How has your week been?”

“I’m pretty sure you know almost everything that’s happened.” Referring to the hundreds of texts that were religiously exchanged. 

“It’s not the same without seeing your face, I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”

He tucked your head back into his collar and held you a little tighter. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You would if you thought it was protecting me.”

He didn’t have a response for that, at least not before Lando’s door opened and he leaned against the panel with an amused look on his face. 

“Are we celebrating or commiserating, love?”

You had completely forgotten why you had come to the building and a bright smile lit up your face as you bounced on the balls of your feet. “A+, baby.”

“Knew you could do it!” Lando wrapped his arms around you and, incidentally, Oscar too. “Fuck the diet, we are going out tonight.”

You looked up at Oscar. “You’ll come too right?”

“Of course he’s coming,” Lando answered with a wink. “Gotta thank the guy that looks after my girl when I’m away. She would never get her nose out of a book if you didn’t take her out.”

You had quickly learned that it didn’t take much to make Oscar blush and Lando loved to make it happen. 

“It’s no problem,” Oscar murmured as he scratched his heated neck. 

Oscar understood more than anyone why there were always rumours about Carlos. Every time pictures were snapped of you and the Spaniard, or all three of you, the gossip began anew. After spending quite a bit of time with you over the last six months he had his own fair share of rumours but he knew nothing had happened with you. It was hard not to gravitate closer to you or to hug you at any given chance - there was a magnetism he couldn’t explain and he didn’t want to fight it. 

“You saved me from total starvation on numerous occasions,” you praised, rising on your toes to kiss his pink cheek. “My hero.”

Oscar’s face grew another shade deeper and he tried to change his racing thoughts to something other than the feel of your lips. It was impossible, he was too far gone and was helpless to his own feelings that wanted more than you could offer. He couldn’t even look at Lando after the betrayal he had just imagined doing. That was his teammate and you were his boyfriend.

“I’m going to head to the garage,” he choked as he took a step back and grabbed his balaclava from his room. He could feel your eyes in him as he left and when he reached the end of the corridor he turned with a frown as he realised he had missed something. “Congratulations on the grade, you deserve it after the effort you put in.”

Those eyes he had come to love in the last six months softened and you smiled. “Thank you, Osc. Good luck out there.”

It started with a kiss. While Lando and Carlos were celebrating the points they had earned, you were keeping Oscar’s glass full as he stewed in his mind over what he could have done better. You could almost see the calculations running through his head as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and it was like he couldn’t even hear the music in the nightclub. 

“If you don’t drink that I will, and you don’t want to see what happens to me when I have whisky,” you warned him. 

He looked at the glass and sighed, putting it down. “I think I should just call it a night. You should go have fun with them.” You followed his sight to Carlos and Lando jumping with the crowd, Lando’s mouth moving with the words and Carlos’ arm draped over his shoulder.

“They can keep each other company, I want to be here with you.” You took his glass and lifted it to your lips. “Last warning…” The liquor burned down your throat and you rushed to take a gulp of your fruity cocktail to wash away the taste before a shiver rolled down your spine. “Oh god, how can you drink that?”

You poured another glass from the bottle on the table and held it out until he took it with a small laugh. “It’s meant to be sipped, not shot,” he clarified before drinking a small amount.

The whisky hit your stomach and you felt warmth spread across your skin. The bar menu suddenly became a necessity and you fanned your face with the cardboard as the flush reached your hairline. “We should dance.”

“I, I’m not a good dancer,” he said, looking concerned at the idea.

“No one is good at dancing,” you pointed out, the crowd basically just jumping to the beat or moving side to side. “Just follow my lead.”

He accepted your hand and you grinned triumphantly as you towed him to the dancefloor before turning and stepping closer to his body. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you swayed your hips to the beat before realising he really did need to be led because his hands were still limp at his sides. 

“You can touch me,” you teased as you grabbed his hands and put them on your hips. “Just relax and feel the rhythm.”

Oscar’s fingers flexed when he felt you start moving again, your body brushing against his, and he released a shuddering breath when you turned in his arms and tipped your head back on his shoulder to look up at him. 

“You okay?” you asked as you watched his blue eyes darken in the laser lights.

“You’re beautiful.”

You turned to face him with one of those smiles of pure joy that always made his day better and he forgot about his poor race result. He could hardly breathe when your hands roamed his body, climbing the thick column of his neck to rest on his racing pulse. He was pretty sure he was going to pass out when you rose on your tiptoes, eyes closed and lips pursed to give him one of those sweet kisses on his cheek.

Someone knocked into him and he turned to growl a warning but then your lips were there, pressed to his lips and he lost the words. Time slowed to the space between one heartbeat and the next as he savoured the sweet taste of your drink, unable to stop himself from taking a little more. 

You had kissed his cheek enough times to memorise the feel of them and knew it was not what you were kissing. A soft gasp slipped past when his tongue parted your lips and your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as your body yearned for more.

“Uh-oh, someone’s had a bit of frisky whisky,” Lando purred in your ear.

Oscar startled back and wiped his lips that were the same shade as your lipstick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. Someone pushed me,” he stammered as he looked around but had no idea who had barged into him when there were hundreds of people in the club.

“Relax, mate,” Lando said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. You cozied into Lando’s arm and tried to process what had happened while your lips tingled from the kiss and your heart fluttered. “It’s the whisky.”

You wanted to tell him the whisky hadn’t kicked in yet but kept quiet as Oscar exhaled in relief. Hiding your face in the crook of Lando’s neck, you screwed your eyes shut and pushed away the image that told you he had regretted the kiss. The knowledge settled in your gut that twisted and turned and you gripped Lando’s shirt harder at the rejection. 

“Can we go?” you begged quietly. “Please?” 

Lando kissed your forehead and nodded. “Okay, love, let me just tell Carlos.”

Your hands were left empty as Lando darted back into the melee to find Carlos who would probably stay until the club shut down. For the first time since meeting him you felt awkward in Oscar’s presence knowing you had made him uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say and it was clear he didn’t either as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed as you took a step away, hoping the crowd would swallow you whole.

When you woke the next morning for a moment you could pretend it was some strange dream, or nightmare, until Lando blinked his sleep eyes open and pulled you into his arms. “Good morning, beautiful.” The timbre of his voice when he was just waking could always bring a smile to your face but your lips merely wobbled and he sat up concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up, with Oscar.”

“Baby, it was just a kiss and you were both drunk, I’m sure he’s probably already forgotten about it.”

The thought that he could forget something that to you was so profound only compounded the ache in your chest. You didn’t want him to forget, you didn’t want him to regret, and you voiced as much to Lando as you cried in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” Lando murmured softly as he wiped away your tears. “I think this is a conversation we should have with Carlos.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you grumbled, tearing yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t work out anyway.”

Lando got up and followed you to the bathroom as you turned the shower onto the hottest setting. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“You and Carlos are best friends, and while you are always close to your teammates I know he doesn’t have the same interest in Oscar.” You stepped under the cascade and welcomed the burning heat that rained down. “I don’t want to lose what we have by wanting more.”

You didn’t hear Lando leave as the steam fogged up the glass and you let your head fall against the cold tile wall. He left you to your thoughts and gave you the space needed to reconcile your feelings to the past.

It started with a phone call. The urge had woken you from a deep sleep and you couldn’t shake the need to reach for your phone and dial the number you knew by heart. It had been a good weekend for the McLaren team with double podiums both in the Sprint and Grand Prix. The two third place caps were hung on the post of the bed as testament to the productive weekend but Lando had gone to bed deflated. 

Oscar had won his maiden race before him. A rookie had done what he had waited years for, what he still waited for. 

“Hello?”

You had assumed the call would go to voicemail after ringing for so long so you weren’t prepared to hear Oscar’s sleepy voice in your ear.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay, is everything alright?”

You swallowed and shook your head before remembering he couldn’t see. “I just wanted to say congratulations, I thought you would still be out celebrating.”

“There’s no one to go celebrating with,” he said so quietly you wondered if it was even meant to be said out loud. 

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what for exactly but you felt the need to say it anyway. It was about the only thing you had said to him in weeks. “I should let you get back to sleep.”

“It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice,” he admitted and you a little bit of the weight on your shoulders eased as you realised whatever you had wasn’t completely ruined.

“You too, Osc. Good night.”

“Night.”

It was naive to think that one phone call could repair the divide that had chasmed between you because when you returned home for your last semester you still felt his absence everywhere. There were no daily text messages, or invitations to dinner, no sudden appearances as you left class. He was a memory that haunted you and it was always worse when both Lando and Carlos were away.

Four Months Later

It started with a bouquet. The small card was almost lost in the overflowing explosion of blossoms that left a sweet scent in the air but when you flipped it over your heart skipped a beat. Congratulations, OP x 

You were still smiling just as brightly an hour later when you arrived at the graduation ceremony to receive your Honours degree. You had kept the bouquet with you and inhaled the fresh scent as you waited for your name to be called. A loud cheer erupted from the rows where Lando, Carlos, your friends and family sat but it was the lonely cheer at the back of the hall that caught your attention. 

Unfortunately it may have been a hopeful hallucination as you didn’t see him again after that or at the celebration Lando threw for you at home.

“Pack your bags, baby, it’s time for Monaco!” Lando engulfed you in a hug and spun you around so your ceremonial robes billowed out and you clutched your cap to keep it from flying off. “I’m so selfish, I can’t wait to wake up to you every fucking day.”

Another set of arms tugged you away and you fell into Carlos’ embrace. “I’m so proud of you, hermosa.”

You were practically a marionette the way you were passed from one person to the next until finally the bottles of champagne ran dry and the party came to an end. You collapsed onto your bed with a giddy laugh that the long journey was finally over and you toed your heels off, letting them fall to the floor. 

“You can’t sleep in your dress, amor,” Carlos chuckled as he walked into the room with Lando after locking the house up. 

“Then you will have to undress me,” you teased with a beckoning finger that faltered when you saw Lando had the bouquet in a vase that he had found downstairs and he placed it on the bedside drawers beside your phone. “I saw him.”

“I know,” Lando said as he straightened the card among the roses. “I invited him.”

“Thank you.”

The next bouquet was one that you sent to him on his birthday. He barely kept the flowers alive for a week but he did keep the card that was attached. The two little xx’s you signed off with were almost faded from how often he traced his thumb over them before slipping it back into his wallet. He was no longer a rookie but he found this season harder to bear without your companionship and he wished he could somehow fix what he broke.

The problem was that he couldn’t settle for just your friendship anymore so he had to keep his distance instead. He had tasted your lips and nothing less could sate the addiction that had festered in the absence of another hit.

Miami was torturous for Oscar. The car was running great and his qualifying was great, but after five rounds of racing he was still stunned every time he watched you enter the paddock. At least in China the weather was horrible so you were bundled up in Lando’s hoodie but Miami, Miami was hot. Monaco had been influential in your fashion and the dress you wore was worthy of the runways in Paris. 

Stacks of passes hung around your neck and fell into your cleavage as you entered the grid and joined Lando where he was talking to Carlos. Oscar watched with envy as you hugged them both and kissed their cheek with well wishes for the race while he failed to hear what his race engineer was explaining. He was distracted by the fact you had seen him, and smiled. It was small and shy, but it was a smile nonetheless and one of his own growing as you waved your fingers and disappeared back into the garage.

One hundred and ten races he kept you waiting, but finally Lando won his maiden race and there was nothing that could bring him down. He had not stopped smiling, or dancing, or talking since winning and he wasn’t even sure if any of it made sense. The hours were a whirlwind of alcohol and noise until it all turned black and Carlos had to help you get him into bed.

Lando was fast asleep with his mouth open and snoring, which heavily down to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed at the after party. He didn’t even stir as you slipped out of the bed and left the room to answer the call that lit up your phone. 

“Hey.” You kept your voice low even though you knew nothing short of a fire alarm would wake your boyfriend.

“Hey.” You could hear the smile in that word and your own lips curled up in response. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I just needed to hear your voice.”

You navigated your way through the dark hotel suite to the balcony and opened the door just wide enough to fit through before closing it. The humidity was instant and the satin nightgown clung to your warm skin as you hung up the phone. “You didn’t wake me.”

Oscar was so close you could almost touch him, but the balcony one room over was just too far away. He even looked down the gap to see the fifteen storey high plunge and you could see his brows burrow together like he was calculating his chances of making the leap across. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him. “I didn’t come out here to see you fall to your death.”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing and he sighed in defeat. A smirk soon tugged at his lips and he brushed his hair back over his ear as he eyed the sheer slip you wore. “But you did come out here to see me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, aware of how thin the material was and all it bared. “I wanted to check how you were.”

Oscar’s lips pursed at the reminder of his poor race result. 

“Could have done without your boyfriend’s boyfriend crashing into me.”

He didn’t know how close to the truth he was with that statement and you wondered if he knew about the relationship that Lando and Carlos had or if he was just playing on an old fan rumour. You wondered how shocked he would be if he knew that Carlos was passed out on the other side of Lando right now. 

“It is a part of racing,” you reminded him. “There’s always a risk battling it out.”

Oscar dropped his head with a little laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t call you for sympathy or I would be disappointed.”

“Why did you call me?” 

You knew why.

“I told you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Osc,” you sighed, your hands falling to your side, and he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes so similar to his teammates.

“I’m not an idiot,” he said as he let go of the rail he leaned on and rose to his full height. “I know you love him.”

“I do,” you confirmed with a small nod, unable to look in his direction as you turned your focus to the view of the ocean instead. 

You didn’t hear him move until his feet landed quietly on the concrete behind you and you spun around to face him. A small shocked gasp escaped your lips when his palm glided over the satin at your waist and pulled you closer to his body. Your hands found their own space on his chest and he froze as he waited for you to push him away, but your fingers curled into the white shirt he wore.

“I know you love him,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But I think you might love me too.”

“You have ignored me for months.” It wasn’t a denial and he caught the admission of those missing words.

“I can never ignore you, and now I know I can’t even keep my distance from you.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours as his large hands cradled your face. “I need you, Y/N.”

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” you whispered as you fought the urge to tell him just how much you needed him too. 

“I’m asking for a chance to show you how perfect we are for each other.” He pulled back to see tears shimmering in your eyes and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

“Wait-”

“No, you don‘t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I don't want you to cheat on Lando.” He kept backing away but you followed with each step until his back was pressed to the railing. 

“Lando isn’t the problem,” you promised as you reached for his face and cradled his sharp jawline. “Remember when I said I was a PR nightmare?”

Oscar nodded as his brows furrowed together. 

“I’m trusting you with a secret no one else knows.” His confusion grew as you took his hand and led him inside the suite. You pressed a finger to your lips as you reached the bedroom door and nudged it wider so he could see what was inside. In the dim light it was hard to make out what he was looking at but then everything came into focus like the Ferrari shirt on the floor and the CS55 cap on the nightstand. 

Oscar’s jaw slackened as he recognised the two bodies spread across the sheets and he eyed the empty space that you had filled. A thousand questions muddled in his head and he swallowed them down until you had closed the door again. His hand slipped out of yours as you walked back to the balcony and you wondered if that was the last time you would ever hold it.

“No one can know, please,” you whispered as you hugged yourself and stared at the moonlight on the waves. 

“Help me to understand what I just saw. Are the rumours true then?”

You laughed and turned to face him, crossing your legs and you leant against the rail. “They're not wrong,” you admitted with an evasive shrug. “They love each other and have a relationship, but it’s not the same relationship that I have with them.”

“You’re not exactly helping me to understand this,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he sat heavily on the outdoor settee. 

You had never needed to explain it before, the addition of Carlos to yours and Lando’s relationship had naturally fallen into place and been accepted without having to understand why you all felt the way you did or how it was going to work. But now you were going to try.

“I met Lando first and what we had was instant, he was funny and sweet and kind. Then he introduced me to Carlos who was so charismatic it was impossible not to love him too. It didn’t mean I loved Lando any less so he supported me having a relationship with Carlos too.” 

“Okay.” He nodded like it made some sense and it gave you a slither of hope. “But what about them?”

You watched Oscar’s eyes linger on the skin bared by the satin and they darkened when you uncrossed your legs to step closer. He sat up straighter as you approached and his legs opened for you to step between and he did nothing to stop you when you took a seat on his lap. 

“You want to know if it's a package deal?” you teased, toying with the strands of his dirty blonde hair. “You want to know if you can have me, but at what price?”

His throat bounced with a deep swallow and his tongue wet his dry lips before he could speak again. “Is it?”

You thought about teasing him more but you settled for the truth. “No, like I said, they don’t have that sort of relationship. Yes, we may sleep in the same bed more often than not and on occasion they share me, but that is as far as they go. That is where the rumours are wrong.”

“Share you as in…”

“Threesome, Oscar,” you confirmed with a laugh as his cheeks turned pink. Seeing that colour again reminded you of the kiss and you shifted on his lap to straddle his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It feels like a part of me has been missing for months.”

His hands slid up your back and pulled you closer. “I know what you mean.” 

His lips were so close you could feel their warmth and they begged you to close the distance, but you couldn’t just yet. “I want you, Osc, and you’re right, I do love you.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes as he asked, “But?”

“But I don’t know how this works when you and Carlos are battling each other every week.”

“I know things sound heated on the radio but that is just on the track,” he promised, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over your spine. “I have no problem with Carlos, I swear.”

Carlos had said the same thing but you weren’t sure if they were just trying to placate you. Only time would tell.

“It’s not just my heart that will break if this doesn’t work,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut and you surrendered yourself to him.

“Then we will just have to make this work.”

[thelostconsultant]

Team building

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: You're Max's new teammate, but things don't go well, so Christian and Helmut send you on a private team building event before the next race of the season. At the end of the first day, things between you change drastically.

You and Max acted like two feral cats that kept hissing at each other every time they met. 

It was childish, you knew that, but he started it with an interview last year, in which he made a comment that could be translated to you not deserving your Red Bull seat. Not like you made it any easier for him, because after that you hinted at believing he had a fragile ego. Sure, you didn’t really mean it, you were just so mad at him that it slipped out. 

After the first race of the season it became obvious that the two of you didn’t want to be near the other. You smiled for the cameras and acted like everything was all right, but behind the scenes you didn’t talk to each other. It didn’t help on the track either, because you both refused to share information about settings or tires, which would have been crucial. 

Your bosses soon had enough of this nonsense, and after the third race of the season they announced you would go on a little team building trip together after the next race. You both protested, but you were both told to shut up. And so the two of you were taken to the middle of nowhere in China, accompanied by a filming crew and a very serious looking Christian who began to scold you both like you were stupid children when you went a little farther away from the others.

“You get a car, two tents, a compass, food and water for two days, a phone, and a paper map. We circled your current location and your destination. The filming crew will be there with you, but they can’t help you and can’t even talk to you unless it’s absolutely necessary. Good luck finding your way back to civilization,” he said as he handed Max the car keys. 

Both of you stood there rendered speechless, watching him walk away with a mocking smile on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced over at your teammate who let out a groan and looked down at the keys. He muttered something under his breath before turning on his heels to go back to where the others were waiting for you. With a sigh, you followed him and eventually stopped next to him, watching the old school Jeep and feeling several pairs of eyes being fixed on you. The car that brought you here already left with Christian, so it was now your little group in the wild.

“Are you good with maps and a compass?” Max asked you, briefly glancing down at you. 

You shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

A desperate laugh left his lips as he opened the Jeep. “We’re gonna die here,” he said quietly, more to himself than you or the cameras. “I’ll drive.”

Rolling your eyes, you went to the passenger seat where some of the stuff you got was stored until now. You put the map out of the way and that’s when you noticed the phone which was an old school type with no apps on it. Great, so you couldn’t even use its GPS to find your way out if reading the map didn’t work. You sorted out the items and only kept the most important ones there with you so you could open the big map and figure out where you were supposed to go. 

You checked the compass, then pointed in a direction. “That’s the way,” you said, but Max gave you an annoyed look in response. “What?”

“We need to go in the opposite direction, you–” He suddenly fell silent and you followed his blue eyes that were glued to one of the cameras put inside the car. “Okay, you need to learn how to use the compass, so for once try to focus,” he said, then went on to explain to you how it worked. 

Max talked to you as if you were an idiot, making everything as simple as he could so he could be sure you would understand. If there were no cameras around you, you would have slapped him and told him to shut the fuck up, but you had to behave. In the end he even explained a few things about reading maps, which–and it was painful to admit–came in handy as you didn’t know about them. Maybe if you hadn’t turned down your father’s offers to take you camping when you were a kid, you wouldn’t be in this situation now. 

But you were sure your teammate wasn’t a big camper either, he just knew a lot of things that sometimes came in handy. Apart from occasional short sentences, the two of you drove in complete silence, trying to avoid getting into a fight when your whole trip was being recorded. You could see the way he was gripping the steering wheel, trying hard to keep up his calm facade, so you decided to play nice and focus on navigating. The silence was only broken by the phone that beeped in your lap, so you took a quick look at it. 

“You guys are too quiet, as if you were on your way to a funeral,” was all the message said. 

He glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow, and you showed him the phone so he would know what their problem was. The look in his eyes gave away that he was the exact same thing as you. What the hell would you talk about? You had nothing in common, and if there was no one to tell you what to discuss on a video, you would’ve spent all of them awkwardly standing next to each other in complete silence. Or yelling at each other, that was the other possibility. 

Minutes passed in silence, but then Max began to talk about the first races of the season, starting a conversation about the grid and how other teams seemed to perform this year. He chose a safe topic, clever, so you could easily keep up with him. From the outside, it must have seemed like a pleasant chat, but the air in the car was heavy with tension. You said something that you expected to be funny, but he only looked over at you with narrowed eyes, making you question if you crossed a line with that comment. You really didn’t mean to, not this time. 

Before the sun went down, you chose a nice place for camping for the night, and used the equipment in the trunk to make dinner. It tasted terrible and that was the only thing you could talk about, although this time it was at least an honest conversation. When you put up the tents, the mood felt lighter once again, mostly because you were suffering and felt like you would sleep out in the open that night. If it wasn’t for Max’s offer to help, that’s exactly what would have happened. 

After the crew said goodnight and retreated to their own camping site farther from where you chose to stay, the two of you looked at each other in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to say. Something changed in the last two hours, you could tell. You didn’t feel like strangling him, in fact you realized the way he could get lost in explaining something was quite entertaining. 

Neither of you seemed sleepy, but maybe trying to sleep was the best you could do now, so you waved goodbye and went inside your own tents. But just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the zip of the tent being pulled to open it, which was followed by someone climbing in next to you before zipping up the tent again. When they lied down on your side, it became clear it was Max, and you watched him with a confused look on your face as you tried to figure out what was happening. 

“Why can’t we always be like we’ve been once we stopped here?” he asked you quietly, sounding genuinely interested. 

You thought about it for a second as you rolled on your side to face him. “We like to make our lives complicated.”

Letting out a short laugh, he shook his head. “I don’t. Well, not intentionally. So maybe we should do something about it,” he told you with a smirk. 

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, Max put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer to kiss you, surprising you by how gentle he was. For a moment you assumed he was just testing the waters, waiting to see how you reacted, but then he seemed to get lost in it and made you assume it was his plan to swallow you whole. It was nice, you didn’t want him to stop, and as if he could read your mind, he pushed you on your back so he could cage you between the ground and himself.

“If you tell anyone,” he said as he placed kisses all over your neck, giving you a warning as if there was a need for one. 

Because you weren’t about to tell anyone that you got rid of some of the tension between you this way. “Trust me, I don’t want people to know either. You’re not even my type, what would that look like?” you added jokingly.

Well, apparently this stupid joke didn’t land. Max stopped what he was doing and looked at you with a hurt look in his eyes. “Thanks, good to know,” he said with a sigh. “Why I don’t want anyone to know is because I know what people are like, there would be some who say that’s how you want to manipulate me.”

You raised your head to give him a quick kiss as your hands sneaked around his waist. “That’s nice, thank you, but I’m a big girl, I can pick my own battles. If I have to fight some morons who think about me this way, so be it. And just FYI, based on my previous boyfriends, anyone can tell you’re exactly my type,” you explained with a bright smile. Okay, maybe they didn’t like to talk as much as you do, but–”

“Mhmm, which of us is the one who talks a lot again?” Max asked with a smirk, causing you to giggle that he drowned with another kiss. 

The next morning you were woken up by a soft kiss being placed on the crown of your head, his large hand rubbing your back to bring you out of your sleep. With a groan, you rested your chin on his chest to look up at him. “Morning,” you muttered groggily. 

He swept a stray lock of hair out of your face as he watched you with a smile. “Morning. The crew is already here based on the noises coming from outside.” You gave him a confused look, not understanding what the problem seemed to be with it. He sneaks out and goes back to his own tent before they notice. Not a big deal. “They are right here and I’m not invisible,” he informed you with a laugh. 

“Oh,” you said, finally understanding the issue. 

Shaking his head, he gave you a soft kiss, then moved aside to put his clothes back on. You did the same, but only after admiring the view long enough to earn a cocky smile from him. “Wish me luck,” he said, then he kissed your forehead and pulled the zipper away to climb out of the tent. You saw him stop halfway and heard a nervous laugh leaving him. “Hey, guys, good morning.”

After he walked away, a cameraman leaned down to look into your tent, so you waved with and awkward smile at him. “Hi.”

“We will edit that out,” you heard someone say in the background. 

[yunhoszn]

steamed milk

pairing choi san x f!reader word count 2.5k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, not proofread, all lowercase bc i wrote this at 2 am… a week ago <3, barista!reader, barista!san, clumsy reader, mentions of burn scars?, mutual pining, little bit of power imbalance but it doesn’t play into the plot, escalates pretty fast, public sex, unprotected sex, cute fluffy moment at the end, may we get f’s in the chat for kim hongjoong’s desk chair

summary a closing shift with san is… interesting… to say the least.

more alright alright alright, i know i have a billion wips and a billion reqs to work on,,, but @bro-atz needed something to read on a flight and i needed an excuse to write with no plot in mind, solely based on vibes and this is what came out of it… i ALSO KNOW i’ve been withholding for a week but that’s bc i wasn’t sure if i wanted to keep this locked in the dungeon for a rainy day or not, until i remembered i should post something in honor of chellateez 🥳

@atzhouse @san-network

“did you burn yourself on the steam wand again, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away from hongjoong bashfully. so what if you’re a little clumsy, it’s not like you completely sucked at your job. maybe there were a few milk spills here and there. at least you knew what you were doing most of the time. 

“um, what would you do if i said no?” you scratch the back of your neck with the hand that wasn’t burned. hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his rolling chair. as the manager of a coffee shop, he did not get paid enough to babysit and coddle his employees like he usually did. 

between you almost always making a mess and then yunho and mingi goofing around whenever they were on shift together, he felt like he was starting to grow grey hairs. he shakes his head with a tsk, pulling out the first aid kit from one of the drawers in his desk. “let’s put some burn cream and a bandaid on it so you can hop back out. the dessert rush is about to begin.”

you nod and rock on the balls of your feet as you wait patiently. your manager dresses your burn and sends you on your way. the dessert rush, aside from the morning rush, was arguably the worst part of the day. shifts at the coffee shop were divided into thirds— open to mid, mid to evening, evening to close. while opens were the most busy, you at least got out early and could enjoy the rest of your day. mids were the slowest, but they took place midday so you couldn’t do much after you clocked off. 

closes were the worst, because they were so unpredictable. you weren’t ever sure if it was going to be busy, apart from the usual dessert rush, and that uncertainty bothered you. the beginning of your closing shift was staffed pretty well. there was yeosang, who was probably the best barista out of the lot of you, and seonghwa, a seasoned veteran in this game. he was your assistant manager. 

however, yeosang and seonghwa were off at 6 PM and the shop closed at 9 PM, leaving you and your lead for the night to close all by yourselves. and your lead? choi san. 

closing with san wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for your massive crush on him. out of the other leads, san was the kindest. he didn’t lose his cool if your clumsy nature got the best of you during a hectic shift. in fact, he took his time to ensure everything was okay. he didn’t care if there were angry customers demanding that their drinks be made. his baristas were his number one priority. 

and well, with his appearance today, it would be more difficult than usual. donned in a white button up and some black slacks, his brown apron over, you think you’re going to faint. on a regular basis, san wore simple things like the occasional sweater or t-shirts and jeans, but this new look was making you all sorts of dizzy. you felt inferior beside him. (though technically, you were.)

with hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang leaving all at the same time, you were in a crisis. how were you supposed to survive this shift? it’s like the universe meticulously crafted this moment so it could laugh at you. and it all started with you burning yourself on that goddamn steam wand, while you were on bar with san of all people. 

“are you sure you don’t want me to send you home?” san asks lowly, making sure only you heard him. the two of you were finishing an order when he asked the question. 

“i couldn’t let you close by yourself.” you pout. as hard as it’s going to be working with him alone for three hours, you’d feel awful leaving him to fend for himself. 

“i can ask yeo or hwa to stay,” he shrugs, putting a lid on the iced vanilla latte in front of you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

“i’ll be fine, san,” you reassure. “besides, seonghwa would probably kill me if i was the reason he had to stay later than he had to.”

san laughs a little, eyes scrunching up in the cute way they do when he smiles. your heart rate spikes and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. he nods as he turns to hand out the order. 

“if you insist.”

maybe you should’ve taken him up on that offer to go home. 

you’re too distracted by the way his rolled up sleeves strain against his muscular arms, staring a little too much. hongjoong just so happens to walk out of the back at that exact moment. he thinks your (very obvious) crush on san is funny, but not when the line is wrapped and you’re about to be down two men. 

“y/n, there’s five drinks waiting to be made,” he calls out, tapping on seonghwa and yeosang’s shoulders to let them know they can go. “what’s more important that has you standing there doing nothing?”

“sorry…” you apologize sheepishly, avoiding his gaze as you start on the next order; a dry cappuccino with cinnamon. great. another drink that required you using that godforsaken steam wand. a truly evil contraption. 

“i can be milk if you’d like?” san suggests suddenly, noticing your hesitation to steam the 2%. 

“if it’s not too much of an ask,” you frown. “i just don’t want to hold us back in the middle of a rush.”

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me, y/n,” he quickly swaps places with you. “i think you’re pretty damn good with a portafilter anyway.”

it’s a stupid compliment. only another barista would even know what that meant, but you take it to heart. your body flushes with warmth as you tamp the espresso grounds and pull a shot viable enough to use for the cappuccino. you’re a little shaky as you pour it into the paper cup and wait for san to pour the milk. 

this was the closest you’d get to flirting with san, and it was him telling you that you were actually good at your job. what a sad life you lived. 

thankfully, you manage to bulldoze through the line with just the two of you. in times like these, your solution is to go nonverbal and lock in. if you talk while you’re making drinks, you get distracted too easily and you find it’s harder to multitask. after the rush, things are slow for the most part and then it’s just you, san, and the sound of cafe music playing quietly over the speakers at 9 PM. 

“y/n, can i ask you a question?” san inquires, counting the till as you wipe down the espresso machine and the bar around it. 

“what’s up?” you hum, refolding your rag. he shuts the register and walks over to you, leaning on the bar adjacent to the one you were at. 

“i’m curious, and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable, but i’ve heard that you like me. is that true?” it comes out so politely, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. you blink as the words process in your brain. this was the end. now you really wished you went home early. 

“well— um— i don’t know how to answer that…” you fiddle with your fingers, looking everywhere but at san. 

“all i want is a yes or no, because truth is,” he walks closer and closer until he’s directly in front of you. “i have a little crush on you myself.”

“you what?!” you don’t mean to sound so shocked, so appalled even, because he takes a step back, eyes widened by your outburst. you’re just so confused. choi san liked you? like, liked you?

“i’ll take that as a—“

“no!” you stand upright, grabbing his wrist. when you realize what you’ve done, you immediately let go. “i mean, no, as in yes. i do like you, san. i was just… embarrassed… that you found out from elsewhere instead of me. and i’m a little in disbelief that you feel the same.”

“why’s that?” his head tilts to the side a bit. “what’s not to like about you?”

“for starters, i’m the biggest klutz on the planet.” you huff, but that makes his smile grow wider. 

“i think that’s your charming point,” he admits, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. “while i don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, like when you burned yourself earlier, i do think it’s kinda cute when you accidentally knock over a drink.”

“are you okay in the head? were you dropped on it as a baby?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. he laughs, this time a full on laugh that has him bringing a fist up to his mouth. you think you just shed a tear. and not from your eyes. 

“i don’t believe so. i guess i’m just attracted to people who aren’t afraid of being themselves,” he shrugs, reaching out to take your hand into his. “and you check all the boxes.”

remember the whole fainting thing? that’s about to come true. you manifested it. 

san brings your knuckles up to his lips, first kissing over the bandaid where your burn was and then all over the back of your hand. you stand there like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing but no words escaping you. was the universe… rewarding you somehow?

“how often does joong check the cameras?” you gasp when his kisses have moved from your hand to your neck. he doesn’t break contact, speaking into your skin as he unties your apron. 

“almost never, but you have a point.”

this is how you end up on san’s lap in hongjoong’s office chair, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, lips locked like no tomorrow. he was a fantastic kisser, which just further proved your theory that he was the perfect human being. along with the subtle flirting, and the obvious knack for respecting boundaries, it’s almost like the universe had hand crafted choi san to be the ideal man. and they say chivalry is dead. pft, san’s existence dispels that notion undoubtedly. 

“he won’t know, right?” you pant, arching into him when he sucks at a particular part on the base of your throat. he hums. 

“you’re worrying too much,” san’s fingers slip under your top, digging into your waist. “i promise, he won’t find out. but we’ve gotta be quick since he’ll know what time we left.”

“m’kay,” you sigh, grinding down on his lap to help speed things along. the undressing process is a blur. you wish you could spend more time admiring his bare chest and arms, especially because you’d been fantasizing about this moment for almost an entire year now. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous, y/n,” he murmurs, reconnecting your lips sweetly. his hands massage the sides of your thighs as you hover over him, preparing to sink down on his cock. “i finally have you all to myself.”

you whine when you do, his words encouraging your arousal. the intrusion has you moaning softly, eyes squeezing shut from the sheer pleasure streaming through your veins. your nails scrape his shoulders and back, toes curling. the tip of his dick grazes that sensitive spot deep in your cunt with ease, as if he was made to be inside of you. 

“feels— fuck— feels so good, san,” you whimper, head falling to the crook of his neck. san chuckles, albeit a little strained. his hands remain in your hips, aiding your movement so you don’t get too tired. 

“is that right, sweetheart?” he says into your ear, nipping the lobe gently. “you’re taking me so well.” 

his praise shoots straight to your core, punching another moan out of you. you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s inching you towards the edge of that familiar tide so fast. it’s san, and like you’ve stated before, he’s damn near perfect. but holy shit, the way he’s fucking you has you thinking that there is such a thing as heaven. 

you have to bite down on his collarbone to stop yourself from screaming like a fucking pornstar, leaving a myriad of marks on his skin to restrain the ferality threatening to jump out of you. every drag of his cock on your velvety walls drives you just a little more insane each time. 

he’s moving so slow, but so deep all at once, and it’s just the right combination to decorate the backs of your eyelids in stars and colored spots. his ring and middle fingers meet your swollen clit, circling with practiced pressure. the office chair squeaks awfully with each of your bounces on his lap, but you’re too close to pay it any mind. instead, you drown it out with your own noises— warnings of your impending orgasm. 

“gonna cum— my god, san, i’m—!” you don’t even finish your sentence, the tide finally reaching the shore. your orgasm washes over you hard and unlike any other you’ve ever experienced before. you aren’t sure if he’s just that good, or if it’s because it’s san. (most likely a combination of both.) 

san coos, guiding you through the peak of your climax. once you’ve calmed considerably, you slide him out of you and stroke his cock until he’s painting the inside of your thighs with milky white and a groan. his face screws up in pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and brows knit together. his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks and you think you’ve just fallen in love, for real. 

his chest rises and falls as he attempts to catch his breath. you can’t help placing a hand over the left side to feel the rapidity of his heartbeat, smiling to yourself. he mirrors your expression after a moment, leaning up to press a sensual kiss to your lips. 

“as fun as this was, and as much as i like the view right now, it’d be better if i could actually take you out after this… and if i could fuck you somewhere nicer than on our manager’s desk chair.” san bites at the inside of his lip, glancing down at the rolling chair beneath you. 

“i agree,” you giggle, brushing his hair from his face. “hongjoong’s office isn’t the ideal location for a first date or first time sleeping together. but at least we’ll have a fun story to tell our kids.”

san bursts into laughter at that. “our kids, huh? you’ve thought that far ahead?”

“i’ve had a crush on you since i got hired, choi san, what do you think?” you raise an eyebrow, booping his nose with your index finger. he scrunches it up with a grin. 

“i think that i’ve had a crush on you just as long. and if we’re having kids, it’s best to omit some details when we retell this story.” 

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

the idea of college!hockey!peter gets me everytime like he’s prolly a little of an asshole and so cockeyyyyy ahhhhh i want him to bully me into having sex with him

73

✰ college!hockey!peter parker x f!reader

✰ word count: 0.8k

✰ summary: why keep peter when he keeps giving you the asshole treatment? you know why, but you wouldn't dare say it out loud.

✰ warnings: language, peter is depicted as taller than the reader, a tease of smut but no actual.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list

gif by @ddlovatosrps

You swore off coming to another one of Peter’s games, but here you were, sitting in the worn-down stands of your school’s hockey rink. The arena was packed as you tried to navigate your way to the seat that Peter saved for you, his practice jersey slung over the back of the plastic. 

peter🏒: 

i saved you a seat. my jersey is on it

you should wear it

When you received that text from him, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the stupid smile that grew on your face. Peter’s always been a pain in your ass, so why couldn’t you push him away?

Peter’s team was entering the rink, causing an uproar from the home side. Making a few laps around the perimeter of the ice, your eyes caught the bold ‘73’ on the back of his jersey, matching yours. 

Little kids and other college girls flood the glass, holding signs and waving them around, hoping to catch their favorite player’s attention. You couldn’t help but notice quite a few of the posters having ‘HEY PARKER! CAN I HAVE A PUCK?’ drawn on in thick letters. Peter has been team captain for two years now, and his skill with a puck and a stick has been widely received. 

A few minutes pass before the game officially starts. You weren’t the biggest fan of hockey until you met Peter. He brought you to practice, and his games and made you watch every game of the professional league’s playoffs last season. And with every goal, he would always turn around to you and say, “I could totally do that by the way.” And every single time you would push his face away and laugh. At first, you thought he was joking just to be funny, but then you realized he was dead serious. 

This season really did prove that he could score at least two points each game, and he never failed to make you realize that. Tonight was no exception. 

5-1 was the final score when the third period ended, making everyone jump up in their seats. You slowly stood, clapping your hands while keeping your eye on Peter, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the sight of him celebrating with his teammates. After a few minutes, the team starts to head back into the locker room with Peter being the last in the line. Walking down to the glass, you meet him there. He smirks before flipping you off. “I told you so,” he yells through the glass. 

“I hate you,” you tell back, ignoring the growing crowd around you. The world around you seems to not exist when you are with Peter, it’s annoying. 

He begins to skate away before mouthing, “No, you don’t.” 

At the end of every game, you meet Peter outside where the door to the locker room leads. You’re usually surrounded by the team’s girlfriends waiting to celebrate their boyfriend’s win. And though you aren’t Peter’s girl, you still smile at the hugs and kisses the girls around you receive. 

As soon as Peter’s moppy brown hair and broad frame come through the door, your smile drops. He knew you’d be waiting here for him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of you potentially being happy to see him. 

“Where’s my hug and kiss, (L/N)?” Peter’s deep and now scratchy voice floods your ears. 

Your arms cross in front of you as you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, his height drastically different from yours, “Yeah, you’re real funny, Parker.” 

His arm slings over your shoulder as he leads you to his car, his body still warm. He pops open his trunk, dropping his equipment inside before holding your face in both his hands, giving your cheeks a small squeeze before kissing your lips. “Don’t act so grumpy, buggy. We both know you want me to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your cheeks flush, and your body runs hot immediately. Releasing your eye contact with him, you look away, nervous, “Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?” 

His lips are so close to touching yours again, and you’re almost aching for his touch, but you won’t give yourself away. You can feel a huff of a laugh against your lips before he pulls away, “I don’t need to make myself feel better, I just want to make you feel good.” You’re frozen in place for a few seconds, not even noticing that Peter is already at the passenger door, holding it open for you, “You coming, or are you gonna stand there and look stupid?” 

You quickly make your way to the door, shoving his chest before entering his car. He slams the door once you get settled in.

 Peter fucking sucks, but why do I need him so bad?

✰ author's note: I LOVE HOCKEY PETER!!! sorry anon, i couldn't make him super mean because i love when he has a soft spot for the reader. thank you for sending in this ask!! if you want to aswell, my ask box is open! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed. ok, ily bye!!

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

[seiwas]

cw: happy tears and tickle fights, birthday celebrations and other things. unedited sawry. ‼️ FIC SPOILERS PAST THIS PORTION OF THE CONTENT WARNING ‼️ pregnancy.

.

hajime’s birthday this year is different.

you don’t celebrate on the day of, contrary to your tradition of keeping it free no matter what. instead, you decide on the weekend, taking time to prepare his gift while he’s out of town.

the sunday morning starts out slow, a late wake to his usual 5:00 a.m. runs. you shift beside him, turning to snuggle deeper into his hold.

you weren’t able to wait for him last night, any hour past midnight simply impossible for you to keep up with these days.

your breath puffs out in a long exhale, tickling his collarbone.

he pulls you closer when you move, tucking his nose into the crown of your head. it’s something you both do, you’ve noticed—breathing each other in the moment you return to one another.

the celebration today is not lost on you, but you take in these few silent moments with him for just a bit longer.

when he stirs, squeezing you tighter as he mumbles a low ‘morning’, you peer up to kiss his chin. he’s ticklish there, you know, especially when your lips catch on the bits of stubble grown a few days after he shaves.

it takes longer for you both to get out of bed because of that, a tickle fight ensuing as hajime sneakily crawls his fingers up your armpits, blowing raspberries at the spot right below your ears.

you slip into the bathroom that way—a little clumsy and a lot giggly. then you crouch low, opening the cabinet under the sink; hidden in it is your gift for him, a flat rectangle wrapped in kraft paper and a green bow.

it’s the first thing in your agenda today, you’ve decided, unable to wait until he receives it at the end of the day, like you’d originally planned.

hajime’s propped up against the headboard when you step back into your bedroom, blanket scrunched at his hip. you’re no fan of the season’s heat, but you thank god it’s summer, because at least, you’re met with the view of his exposed chest every morning.

he holds an arm out to welcome you back in, letting you rest your legs across his lap as he cradles your back.

“your gift,” you whisper, holding out the wrapped rectangle, “open it first. that’s the first thing on our agenda today.”

he chuckles, taking the soft rectangle from your hands while kissing your temple, “thanks, babe. you didn’t have to.”

you watch eagerly, tucking yourself into his side as you wrap an arm around his waist. he tears through the wrapper but sets aside the bow, knowing you like to recycle them when you have the chance.

hajime is a simple man, and at the sight of his favorite brand of socks, he lights up at the addition of one more to his already-full drawer of them.

he turns to you, about to pepper your face with a bunch of kisses but—

“check the hem, i got something done to it.” you giggle.

he looks confused for a moment before he turns them over, plain white save for the dark green letters running around its ankle garters.

there’s another reason you decided to celebrate his birthday this weekend, on the third sunday of june.

he deciphers the word, reading each letter: p-a-p-a, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain before he immediately whips his head to face you.

“you’re—?”

you nod.

there’s something indescribable in his eyes, emotion welling up as they gloss over dark olive green—it makes you want to cry, too.

damn all these hormones.

“happy birthday, papa.” you sniffle, smiling wide, “and happy father’s day.”

(after a whole lot of tears, and even more kissing, you show hajime the tests you took while he was away. he tells you you should have told him, that he would have come home, but you shake your head.

it’s well worth it, seeing his reaction to two things he can celebrate today.)

[hippopotamusdreamer]

They Were Roommates

genre. [C][F][A][AU]

warnings. None! Maybe a "damn" thrown in there

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, not proofread lol

pairing. Yang Jeongin x Reader

w.c. 962

a/n. This is for Fall Cryptid season!

Kpop Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Fall Cryptid List

You had a poltergeist problem.

Well, not really a poltergeist, it was a ghost. But you couldn’t very well say a spooky silly ghost problem because then you’d just look and sound ridiculous.

It started when you moved into a new apartment a at the beginning of the year. Rent was cheap and the housing market was the bane of your existence. It didn’t matter that someone was murdered there 10+ years ago in the heat of passion. Or that the previous owners felt like they were being watched. Which was weird because the unit was on the third floor.

And so what if you heard footsteps outside of your bedroom at like three in the morning? Who cares that all your cabinet doors were left open after you’d left for work more than once. And that chill in the air in the middle of the night? Let’s just say that the money you saved during the summer was enough to make you turn a blind eye to everything. Especially now that it was October and the autumn air was settling in.

But the one thing you’d never thought about? It never even came to mind as a possibility of happening.

A ghost getting fed up with your bullshit, so much so that he decided to APPEAR in front of you while you were crying on your couch because of your ex. And just to be clear, you were not crying because he dumped you (you dumped him). You were just so relieved that he was out of your life that the tears just wouldn’t stop coming after that.

“Are you seriously crying over that piece of shit?” An exasperated voice chastised you.

“W-what?” You hiccupped while looking up. Before you stood a transparent being. Sharp eyes that just screamed that they were judging you, and reasonably fashionable for a ghost.

“I’ve watched you day in and day out suffering at being tied down to that absolute shitshow of a guy. And now that you’ve finally gotten rid of him, I find you crying over him! Make it make sense.”

“I’m not crying over him!”

He gave you what could only be the ghost equivalent of a “Sure Jan” look.

“I’m not!”

“What are you crying for?”

The silence in the room was deafening until it wasn’t.

“OH MY-!”

“PLEASE! I SWEAR!!”

What was your life right now? Arguing with your resident ghost over you ex? A ghost that doesn’t even help you pay reeeeent to make matters worse!

“Why am I being attacked right now!?” you cried out pitifully.

“Y/N, you don’t need him in your life. Get a grip…”

“I know that! I don’t know how many times I keep telling you that I’m not crying over him.”

“Then…why are you crying?”

“I don’t…cause I’m relieved? I don’t know, I just know that it feels like a weight is off my shoulders now that he’s gone. I don’t have to walk on eggshells whenever he’s near anymore. I can finally breathe again.”

You could feel yourself relaxing into your couch now, now that this pressure was gone. You blinked and the ghost was gone from in front of you. Though from the noises coming from the kitchen behind you, you knew he didn’t go far.

From your peripheral, you could see him coming to you slowly.

‘What are you doing?” you asked with no intentions of turning to look.

“Shush, this takes a lot of concentration…”

Narrowing your eyes at his words, that did make you want to see what he was doing. “Wha…?”

“Shh…!”

“Now, hold on—”

“Wait!”

The comedic series of events was astounding. You finally decided to turn to you ghost man. Only for him to, you guess, loose concentration. And the ending result? The mug of water he was apparently bringing to you just fell out of his grip and landed all over you and the floor below you. Cue your ghost standing there like he was about to call his mom and tell her he just frew up.

Neither of you said anything as you stared down at the wet mess. At least it was water and not something hot you supposed.

“Damn Y/N, you’re so clumsy.”

You couldn’t say anything coherent, just squawked, flabbergasted at his audacity to try to put the blame on you. Then the laughing started. Laughing at the entire ordeal. Not just the water but actually meeting the ghost that haunted your apartment and not running for the hills immediately.

From the small smile on your ghost’s face, you guessed he was just trying to get you to do something other than cry your eyes out that night. Even if your clothes where caught in the crossfire.

“So, you know my name. What’s yours?” You sighed while standing to go grab something to clean up the mess.

“…Why should I tell you?”

“You literally just threw water at me. You owe me that much.”

His lips puckered knowing you had him there. After a few beats he said, “It’s Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?”

“…Yeah.”

You were too busy cleaning the floor to notice how misty eyed a ghost could get; but you were able to catch the change in his demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” You briefly glanced up at him from your crouched position as you mopped up the water with a used towel. He chewed on his bottom lip before answering.

“…It’s just been a long time since someone’s said my name out loud.”

You felt a pang in your heart at his words. Nodding, you went back to cleaning.

“Then I’ll be sure to call for you every day, Jeongin.”

“…Ok.”

And if it sounded like he was gonna cry, well you weren’t going to bring any attention to it.

This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

© hippopotamusdreamer, est 2024. all rights reserved.

[onthepyre]

He's overplayed, but sometimes, Glenn Miller just hits the fucking spot. You hear the song for the first time and maybe you aren't quite sure where it's going, but Mickey's danced to "In The Mood" every weekend for the last year. He's got it down to a science.

The girls come and go. He has favorite partners, that's for sure - ones that let him fling them in the air or send them flying out in light-speed spins, or even the ones who can just really groove. But sometimes they're there and sometimes they aren't, and ultimately, it doesn't make much difference to him. It's not about the girl at the other end of his arm. It's about Mickey and the music. He can feel it - the trombone in his feet, trumpet in his arms and sax in his shoulders, bass and drums thumping in his chest.

His ballroom isn't a popular one. It's a few regular faces and a handful of out-of-towners, passers-through who dance with an accent; on an average Saturday night, though, most of the attendees are the sort that rotate in and out of five or six different floors. It's hard to get them all in one place. But the band is decent, the admission cheap, and the bartenders heavy-handed. So it's Mickey's.

He's making his way off the floor after the night's fourth Miller track, panting, chatting lazily with the brunette who'd stepped on him a minute ago. She's got two left feet, but they exchange niceties - great dance, love that song, all the things Mickey says when he doesn't have anything to talk about. She wanders off when he makes it to the bar and doesn't offer to buy her a drink.

He sits silently, sipping whiskey, listening to the band's approximation of Count Basie. They're doing a shitty job with this one and people are falling off the dance floor left and right, doing whirlygig turns into their seats. There are only six dancers left on the floor by the middle of the song. Two of them are an ancient married couple, barely able to keep up with the inconsistent tempo. There's a pair of teens who keep losing the beat, but the third set are the ones that catch Mickey's eye. The girl is cute in a kiddish sort of way, round rosy cheeks and a big smile. She dances young, too, inexperienced but with flair. The man seems far more seasoned - he hits every accent and anticipates every pause like he's a member of the band. He leads the girl, green as she is, through some pretty complicated shit with ease. They're both ginger. Siblings, probably, Mickey thinks.

Mercifully, the song ends, and the redheads laugh their way out of a dip. The band kicks off another tune, one Mickey doesn't know the name of, and other dancers begin to trickle back onto the floor. He loses sight of the siblings until the man appears next to him and asks the bartender for some frilly cocktail Mickey's never heard of.

"Those were some neat tricks," he says to the man. "That your sister?"

"Yeah," the man answers, "Debbie. I'm Ian."

"Mickey."

"This is one of Deb's first nights out. Our other sister's been teaching her the ropes, but you can only get so far in a kitchen. She's getting way better with real music and real people."

"Band's havin' an off night tonight. I think the usual drummer is out."

"We'll have to come back when they're better equipped," Ian says with a grin. The bartender sets down his drink - he finishes half of it in one swallow.

"You ever tried to follow? Dance the girl's part for a night?" He looks over at Mickey out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hell would I do that for?"

"Makes you a better dancer." Ian shrugs, starts sliding off his stool. Mickey scoffs. "Here, c'mon. Give it a shot."

There's ice in Mickey’s veins. To ask that - and in a public place, no less - risks a lot more than his lindy-hopping skills. But Ian’s hand, open and waiting in front of him, is enticing. So Mickey can't rebuke him completely.

"Lotta moxie, you got."

"Wouldn't be here without it."

He's not sure what Ian means - here on this earth, here in this room, or here asking another man to dance. Mickey can't read his expression; he wears a good-natured, joking grin, but there's something else in his green eyes. Something pleading.

"Promise it won't be weird," Ian says. "I get ya, I swear."

Fuck.

Mickey can't say no, so he doesn't say anything, just drops his hand heavy into Ian's. He lets himself be led out onto the floor, willing them invisible to prying eyes at the bar. Ian drops the handhold and slides his arm around Mickey's back to start marking the beat, exaggerated, almost silly. They're late to the floor, left behind as the other dancers set off and running with the music. Still, within seconds, it's some of best chemistry Mickey's ever felt. Ian's giddiness is contagious and so is his rhythm. When he folds Mickey in so they're face to face, it's like greeting an old friend.

Ian's dancing is an open book, and Mickey can tell he's holding back at the start. He keeps them up to tempo, but only leads the boring shit - the kind of stuff the newcomers pick up first. The way he does it, though, high kicks and full-body pulse, is enough for Mickey to be suppressing a smile. When there's a heavy hit in the music, the kind that would have Mickey tossing a girl over his head, Ian pauses for a split second. It's clearly intentional, like he's waiting for Mickey to do something, but he's got no clue what girls do in moments like these.

He takes control instead - uses the tension in their arms to send Ian sliding across the floor under his legs, and Ian lets him do it. He pops back up as Mickey spins around, and just as the song hits its climax, the roles flip.

Back where he's comfortable, Mickey lets loose. He brings Ian in and sends him back out four times in a row, lightning-fast with the trumpet player's run. It gets Ian laughing, so Mickey's laughing, too, and it feels like his feet are floating an inch above the floor. They move in tight, near-violent circles, narrowly avoiding the other dancers close by.

The end of the song is building up - Mickey can tell in Ian's careful attention to his feet that he's anticipating it, too. The whole band crescendoes, the trombone digs into a slide, and Mickey dips Ian so low his head almost brushes the ground. Ian trusts him with it, kicks his foot up and lets his weight fall, his back arch. They hold there, eyes meeting for the longest few seconds of Mickey's life.

When they pull out of the dip as the band pauses, it feels wrong. To be around Ian, still linked at their hands, and not be dancing with him - Mickey feels uncoordinated, off-balance. But when Ian cracks a smile, Mickey's head is back on his shoulders, his feet back underneath him.

"Not so bad, right?" Ian asks.

"Guess not."

[slafastri28]

Luca Fantilli - Free Time

The goal horn thundered throughout Amalie Arena after this entire season of memories being made Michigan had lost to Quinnipiac and it was over. You saw the heartbreak of your hockey family, as the boys filed through the handshake line before heading back to their respective ends. You tried to keep your emotions pushed down to put on a smile for your boyfriend Luca, you knew how upset he would be after going this far his freshman year, especially with it being an overtime loss to end his season.

You waited with the other families to get to the locker room after the game ended, and people began to file out of the arena. You stood with the Fantillis and waited until you saw Adam walk out of the locker room. He showed a half smile with red eyes, then looked back down at the ground dropping his things and slowly walking to his parents. You watched the family hug, feeling a little awkward and bad for Adam, if he was like this you couldn’t imagine how Luca would be. The family hug broke apart, and Adam turned to face you. You opened your arms, for him to fall into,

“Thanks, Y/N,” he sniffled.

“Of course Adam, I’m sorry about the game,” you said as you let go. He wiped his eyes as you waited for Luca to come out of the locker room. You watched a few more players walk out then there he was, your sweet boy a mess. He like Adam walked over to the Fantillis hugging them with Adam joining in, then the two brothers hugged, making you start to get emotional. Luca looked up from Adam’s shoulder seeing you standing behind him. He let go of Adam and wiped his eyes as if he was embarrassed to be seen crying in front of you. He slowly approached you, clearing his throat.

“Come here, Lu,” you held out your arms. He fell into your arms sniffling, as the tears all started again. No embarrassment, no judgment, just being there for him through this tough time. You played with his hair as his head rested on your shoulder, and you rubbed his back with your other hand. Your hug broke apart after a moment, you kept your arm on his back, as he kept his arm around you. You walked down the hallway all the way to the exit of the arena where the Quinnipiac fans were waiting to taunt the team. You screamed back at those taunting and yelling at you as you got Luca to the bus. The boys threw their things underneath and got on,

“I’ll see you later babe,” Luca said. The door closed behind him, you waved goodbye as the bus pulled away. 

You got to the hotel and saw a few of the boys sitting in the lobby, Adam was one of them. He smiled and waved when he saw you,

“Room 307 Y/N,” he said, “we couldn’t get him to come down, so hopefully you can cheer him up.” You nodded and headed towards the elevator. On your trip up to the third floor, you thought about how to approach Luca. The doors slid open giving you less time to think. You walked down the hall to the room waiting outside the door for a minute, you were about to knock when the door opened.

“Oh hey Y/N,” he said.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Not anymore, I was gonna look for Adam he wasn’t answering me but, now you’re here.” He smirked and grabbed your hand pulling you into the room, and shutting the door behind you. He let go of you and flopped on his bed. He let out a dramatic sigh, staring at the ceiling.

“Lu?” He turned his head to look at you. He gave you an annoyed look, then went back to staring at the ceiling.

“What babe?”

“I know you’re upset.” With that statement, he snapped up. He sat up and turned to face you,

“I’m just disappointed, you know for the older guys, it’s hard.” He patted the bed next to him, you sat down. 

“I know that’s not it, what’s on your mind?” Luca went silent. You put your hand on his hand that was resting on his thigh. He looked at you and locked his fingers with yours.

“I don’t know, it just went so fast Y/N, I wanted that winning feeling to last a little longer,” he gave a half smile and shrugged.

“Are you reading my mind? I was literally thinking that earlier,” you laughed.

“I guess we are feeling the same thing,”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his thumb on your hand. You kicked off your shoes and lied down back on the bed, sighing. He lied next to you, gazing into your eyes. You pulled his head onto your chest, playing with his hair. He closed his eyes and smiled,

“You know Lu, it’s not so bad,” he rolled over on his stomach to be lying on top of you. You continued playing with his hair as he looked at you.

“I guess, don’t know what’ll do with all my free time, hmm maybe video games with the boys all the time, as well as school work obviously,” he smirked.

“Woah bud, you forgetting anything”

“No I don’t think so,” he teased.

“Don’t play dumb Fantilli,” you rolled your eyes. He grinned, raising his eyebrows, then scooted closer to your face. He placed his hand on your cheek, locking his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer which was impossible. You both gasped for air, as you ran out of breath, locking your lips once more, your hands moved from his neck to his back. You held him tightly as you broke apart once more. He opened his eyes smiling,

“Maybe I’ll make some time for that too,” he said, moving off your chest to the space on the bed next to you.

“Oh, you think?”

“Shut up,” he laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay okay, did I cheer you up though?” you asked grinning.

“I don’t know, I’m still a little upset,” he gave you puppy dog eyes.

“What am I gonna do with you babe?” you sighed. 

“This.” He pulled your face to him once again pressing his lips to yours, putting his other arm around you, and pulled you into his chest. You ruffled his hair, as the kiss deepened. 

“More time with my girl,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you smiled.

________________________________________________

The past few posts have been my pictures and I'm almost out of pics to use which is making me sad

[luwritesomething]

Dean Winchester x Reader: tolerate it.

Warnings: Swearing (probably), angsty?? and with fluff but it remains angsty until the end. also, dean doesn't (know how to) acknowledge reader's obvious feelings for him, lowercase intended, unrequited love coded.

Tags: angsty, hunter!reader, reader has known sam and dean since kids, no season states, can be read as black reader, can be read as plus size reader.

Reader pronouns: they/them (used once)

Word count: 785

Summary: When Reader bursts into tears because of seeing Dean hurt, he doesn't know how to react.

Author’s note: another dean thingie because angst is my specialty and i was feeling THAT kinda way... I rarely ever write for Dean! Not because I don’t like him (I LOVE HIM), but because since I haven’t finished the show (i've just finished season 8) the requests have to be either pre-show or within those seasons. Anyways, Dean and Sam Winchester requests are open, but with those conditions !! love my boys <3 also gif is not mine.

you cried when you saw dean really hurt after a hunt for the first time in long months.

it made you feel childish and stupid, as you had been into the hunter life for as long as he had, as you two and sammy had been through hell and back; but when you saw the exhaustion in his face, the hopeless look in his eyes as he tried not to move his arm too much because the pain was piercing and burning him, you couldn't help it. tears had ran down your cheeks in silence, blurring the sight of the gold rush of a man you called dean, but before you could turn your face away from him and sam, they saw you.

"hey..." dean started, and that was enough for you. you couldn't take it.

your steps were quick towards the door of that old, stinky motel dorm the three of you had found hours ago, making sure to grab dean's impala keys before you stepped outside. sam called out your name and even opened the door, fearful that you might just take the car and drive away from them and the reality, the pain, the misery. but you only needed the keys to open the door to the car and lock yourself in, spacing out of everything around you to try and rationalize the cascade of emotions you were feeling.

sam sighed softly, almost in relief, when he saw you weren't going anywhere, and he closed the door with care before turning to his brother. dean's eyes were filled with worry, an anxious expression that sam hadn't seen many times outside of the battlefield, but he understood.

"should i..." dean had to clear his throat to recover his voice from the surprise, the hoarse shock your reaction had thrown him onto. "should i go talk to them?"

"later?" sam asked like that was dean's original idea. he heard dean rushing to him in agreement, like he had never intended to go right now. "yeah, i think you should. later."

dean nodded stiffly. "later."

later was an eternity, but dean waited. he cleaned his wound, patched it up with sam's help, got a beer and then he got a second one, and a third one. he waited, sitting in his bed with his gaze lost in the floor boards beneath his boots, and sam didn't try to pull him back to reality.

later came when sam decided to get into bed, shutting the little lamp by his side. dean brushed his face with his hand, rather harshly to wake himself up from the trance he had put himself into, and then he moved the curtains to the side to make sure you hadn't drive away from them. you hadn't, and he already knew that because he would have heard you, but his heart slowed down at the sight of you still in the car.

dean closed the door to the room softly and made his way to the door slowly. you had your eyes closed, as you sat on the drivers seat, not asleep but completely disconnected from your surroundings. he had to knock on the glass window to get you to open your eyes, and your eyes softened when they locked with his, so soft, so caring.

surrounding the car, dean got into the passenger seat as soon as you allowed him too, closing the door to allow the intimate conversation to stay inside the vehicle.

"hey."

"hey." you muttered. you let your eyes close for longer than usual, then turned to look at him. "i'm sorry, i overreacted."

dean pursed his lips slightly. "we've gotten through so much worse. you know that."

"i know." your voice was barely a whisper. "i know. i just worry, you know? i... can't really help it."

"i know." he nodded along to his words, giving them value, making you feel like he was finally listening to what you had to say. still, your heart ached. "but i'm alright. i promise."

"we always are."

he only looked at you from the corner of his eyes. "it's what the job asks of us."

"i know." you had never sound so bitter in your entire life, you knew. but he avoided to look at you, and you did the same. "you're alright."

some beats of silence. then, a slow grin started forming in his face, "you should've seen the other guy."

"too soon."

"ah, c'mere." his arm extended and wrapped you around your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. you let him handle you, accommodating your head against his good shoulder, closing your eyes. your heart ached more and more and more--- "we've survived. that's enough."

but it wasn't.

[thesharkspajamas]

Jealous James

Requested by @im-kikimon - hope this is kind of what you were looking for :)

If anyone has requests or wants more of this AU please lmk I'm begging for feedback

Harriet - James' Pallas cat daemon

Gunnar - Ruby's badger daemon

Setting: the Beaufort twins are staying with the Bells after the mansion drama at the end of season one. (No real spoilers tho dw)

James listened to Kieran Rutherford’s pitch for an Ascot-themed Easter garden party. As outfitters to the King, the Beaufort family attended Ascot every year, and his mother always made every best dressed list.

“And what? We usher in Lexington in a carriage? So many people at Maxton attend Ascot that people would see it for the rip-off it is. You want to ask actual nobility to picnic like the Queen Anne enclosure?” James scoffed.

Rutherford flushed and his shoulders crept up to his ears. “Do… Do you have a better idea?”

The whole room turned to James, who did not, in fact, have a better idea. “I’m saying we can’t imitate something like that. We could keep the dress code and do a standard party - maybe themed with a flower type, hyacinths or something seasonal.” He shrugged, spinning the words out as they came to him.

Silence fell and the tension was thick as James had crushed Rutherford’s hard work a second time. Lin nudged Ruby until she stood up, “Um…” She hugged her notebook to her chest, and suddenly James felt embarrassed; she was clearly uncomfortable because he’d put her in an awkward position, again, without meaning to. He’d just tried to be helpful. “I think you’ve both got good points,” she nodded to herself as an idea formed, “maybe you could work together on this and come back next week with some solid ideas?”

Both boys scowled at her, but she thought it would be good for them to sort out their issues. She smiled and nodded as if they’d just agreed, “Great. Lexington said he’s trying to arrange the keynote speaker so we don’t have the final schedule yet, but they shouldn’t be more than an hour, and if the lunch starts at twelve then we should expect to serve food around one’oh’five.,” she started writing a vague outline on the paper pad, “canapes around six, as it’s a low alcohol event, carriages at nine, latest.”

…

James emailed Rutherford in the car after lacrosse practice:

Hi,

If you send me what you’ve got for the garden party I’ll read it through and email you back with some notes.

James Beaufort

Sent from my iPhone

That should do it. He didn’t particularly want to meet in person.

…

Rutherford sent a link to a Pinterest board later that evening. No message, only the link. James opened it and he realised he hadn’t just been an asshole to Ruby but to Rutherford as well. He could see the guy had put some serious effort into this, and that the Ascot theme was only a template rather than a theme.

He opened his email and started typing out an apology - cc’ing Ruby.

“Coward,” Harriet accused him.

James remembered how Ruby had apologised to him on the lacrosse pitch and deleted the draft.

...

"Hey,” he walked up to Rutherford, “can we talk about the garden party?”

Rutherford looked at the ground, “Yeah.”

‘Go on’ Harriet urged James with a glare.

“I apologise for being rude to you at the meeting. You clearly put a lot of work into the project and it was wrong of me to stomp on it like that.”

“Yannow, it always annoys me in those stories when the nice girl picks the hot guy who treats her like shit over the boring guy who really likes her.”

‘Yikes,’ James thought. He hadn’t been expecting that. “You think I treat her like shit?”

“You have.”

James exhaled, ‘yep, deserved that one. Wait, what does he know?’

“But…” Rutherford spoke up again, “I admit I’m blindsided by your apology. I think we can at least try to work together.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

James was stunned. He nodded, “Library? Breaktime?” 

“Yeah, I prefer the desk third from the door by the east window. There’s a squirrel drey in the tree right next to it.”

“Third desk from the door by the east window. Got it.”

James glanced at the empty desks near the windows; Rutherford wasn’t here yet. He pulled out his phone and checked the compass app before walking to the eastern side. He sat down at the third from the door and opened up his tablet. He’d made a folder in his sketchbook app last night of different things to go with the theme; invitations, drinks stands, signage, all sorts.

“Did you see the squirrel? It’s a Eurasian red squirrel, pretty rare for around here.”

James looked up as Rutherford sat down and hoped that his disinterest in all things squirrel wasn’t all over his face. “Couldn’t spot it.”

“That branch fork right there,” Rutherford leaned over the table and pointed to a nondescript cluster of twigs.

James nodded, “ahh” and angled his tablet so Rutherford could see it. “I liked the muted colours idea. That was clever. Lydia told me lupins are in season and they come in all sorts of colours, so I thought we could use those as a theme. I sketched an invitation.” He flicked through the app to his ‘sketch’ which had actually taken him ages.

Rutherford took it all in, “That looks really good. Can you mass-produce the invitation?”

“Not by hand, but we could have them printed or send it as an e-invite.”

Rutherford scrunched his nose and shook his head as if James was an amateur, “Paper. Always paper. We send an email to remind them to RSVP anyway, no use clogging their inbox.”

“If you’re okay with it I’ll send a photo to Ruby for her approval?”

“Uh, better on the group chat, the food people might want to put extra details on there and I was thinking about asking Lexington if we could use the conservatory in case it rains. That way we can have a garden or indoor party easily.”

“Good idea.” James added a new plain slide titled, ‘conservatory party rain’.

“And I wondered about an easter egg hunt. If you find an egg, you put your name on it and then you enter it into a raffle. Winner wins champagne or something.”

“Yeah. I can see that working. Where would we get the prize?”

“If you could design a fancy label, maybe we could re-label some champagne or something. Make it one of a kind.”

James nodded. He’d been forced to endure many events with some of these parents; they love the challenge of something they can’t buy. Rumour had it one of them bought a jar of honey for fifteen thousand pounds at a Tory charity gala. “That’ll do it. I’ll get on that. We have some easter eggs at my house from past Easter parties. I’ll ask the housekeeper if we can borrow those.”

Rutherford glanced at his watch, “I’ve gotta go, but it was good chatting with you, Beaufort.”

James stuck out his hand, “James. Thank you for being so decent about all this...” He made a vague gesture with his other hand.

Rutherford shook his hand, “Kieran.”

A few days later:

(Callum is an OC, and Percy (and an SUV) are assigned to chauffeur the Bells and Beauforts around while the twins stay with them. Mortimer sees it as a way of keeping them supervised, but not underfoot.)

James bit back a cringe as he watched Kieran present his and James’ party ideas to Ruby, (the whole committee was present, but he talked to Ruby as if they weren’t) desperate for a ‘good boy’ and a pat on the head or something. Pathetic.

When Ruby stood up, she thanked him ’so much’ for working with James on this, and how wonderful it was to have such ‘a cohesive committee working forward’ - or something like that. James was focussed on the way Rutherford was looking at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

James knew on some level that Kieran Rutherford was somewhat of a decent bloke. Just one with an insane crush on his girlfriend. And it was starting to irritate him.

He felt Harriet pawing at his ankle, “she verbally eviscerated you at Oxford,” she hissed, “keep it to yourself.”

‘Amazing how much you sound like him, like your father’, James realised Ruby was right; that was probably how his father would have dealt with it.

…

When Percy dropped Ruby and the twins back at the Bells, James got out of the back seat and slid into the front passenger seat. Percy regarded him calmly; he always spoke second.

“Percy. Could you give me some advice?”

Percy undid his seatbelt and shifted to fully face James, “Certainly, Sir.”

”There’s a boy on the events committee who clearly fancies Ruby. And, I’m… struggling to watch them interact.”

“You feel jealous when he talks to Ruby?” Percy clarified.

Jealousy sounded childish to James. Straight out of one of those awful romance books Lydia used to read. But, he realised that was exactly it. Jealousy. He nodded.

“What do you need my advice on?” Percy wasn’t sure if James needed any more advice;  sometimes as a kid he just needed help identifying what he was feeling and then he’d work it out himself.

“Last time, with someone else, I lashed out, and…” He didn’t want to admit it, but if he could admit it to anyone, it was Percy, “Ruby said I sounded like dad.” He looked at the textured dials as he held his head in shame.

“Communication is the foundation of any relationship. You each need to communicate your feelings and be vulnerable with each-other. Tell her how you’re feeling, but be mindful that the committee is an obligation to her, and he might be too.”

James reflected on the interactions he’d seen between Ruby and Rutherford. “I’ve never seen her reciprocate. She’s pretty closed off around him.” The more James thought, he realised Percy was probably right. The logical conclusion was that James didn’t have anything to be jealous about, but… ugh, it’s still there. Just a bit.

“Sir, have you officially asked her to be your girlfriend yet?”

James frowned and looked at Percy as if it was a forgone conclusion that she was.

Percy smiled softly. “Ask her.”

James nodded to himself. He could do that. He’d get her flowers too; he’d seen how happy that one rose made her. Angus had too. “Should I ask her father before?”

“Before you marry her, Sir.” Percy was really doing his best not to laugh, but the way James flushed really tested him.

…

James bought some flowers on his way back from his next run with Callum. Angus gave him a knowing look as he crept into the kitchen with the bouquet. 

“These are for Ruby. Where can I hide them while I shower?”

“There’s a vase in that cabinet,” Angus pointed to a cabinet. When James put it down on the counter Angus had a pair of scissors. “Giving a woman flowers like this,” he tugged at the wrapping paper, “is giving her a task. Giving them flowers in a vase means she just has to enjoy them.”

He proceeded to teach James how to cut and arrange flowers in a vase, making sure to add the plant food sachet to the water. “As for hiding them, you can put them in our bedroom for a while with the door closed.”

“Thank you.” He hadn’t even thought about the ‘giving her a task’ bit. Now he knew Ruby would ‘only have to enjoy them’ he was looking forward to asking her even more.

He ran upstairs and placed the vase just inside the doorframe of Helen and Angus’ bedroom before heading to the bathroom.

…

“Ruby”

Ruby and Gunnar both looked up from her manga to see James in her bedroom doorway, hiding something behind his back, it was cute.

All the practice James had definitely not done in the shower left him. He came to stand right next to the bed, stalling for time.

“I haven’t done this before, so I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” He saw Ruby’s brows furrow and quickly held the flowers out for her before she got the wrong idea, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Ruby’s face was frozen in a delightfully surprised, open-mouthed smile, “Yes!” She set the flowers on the bedside table and hugged him tightly. James hooked his chin over her head and breathed in deeply, glad it had gone well. Would have been a bit awkward if it hadn’t. He saw Harriet and Gunnar curling up together on the bed and sighed as the extra feeling of intimacy washed over him.

…

“Ruby, can I ask you something?”

She gave him a look which screamed ‘you just did.’

“Is there, or has there ever been anything between you and Kieran? I’ve seen the way he talks to you, and while I’ve never seen you reciprocate… I just wondered…”

Ruby shook her head easily, “No. Nothing between us, I know he’s got a crush on me but hasn’t made any moves and I’m not interested in him. He’ll get the message, especially with you around.”

James was surprised that that was good enough for him. ‘Guess Percy was spot on on both accounts.’ He thought to himself. Harriet only moved her head in a way that said ‘told you so’.

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Can we get Evie taking care of Sid after being eliminated and season ending?🥺 need some sweetness with Sid (maybe more hehe)❤️

Here you go. Let me know if you want the Mr. Crosby and Princess part. Warning it's not proofread.

@penstxgal1968 @pattiemac1 @equallyshaw @pensfan5871

Evie watched the clock wind down in the third period in disbelief. The Penguins trailed the Blackhawks in what was essentially a must win game to secure a spot in the playoffs. Now, any shot at the postseason would be dependent on the Canadiens defeating the Islanders. Evie checked the time on her phone. She waited until the final buzzer sounded. However, she said her goodbyes to the other WAGs and left before the fan appreciation ceremony.

In her car, she sent a quick text to their nanny, Grace, that she was on the way home. She debated texting Sidney before she started typing

Once home, she relieved Grace and checked on Catherine. The eight month beauty slept peacefully. Evie whispered, "Sweet dreams, Baby Girl."

She checked her phone. Sidney's response was a simple "On my way". She stared at the text as if his tone would magically be revealed to her. She bit her lip. If he wanted her in the playroom, he would have indicated that she argued with herself. She inhaled deeply and went into the bedroom to take a shower. Evie changed into a pair of satin shortie pajamas and put her hair up in a messy bun. Then she grabbed her book, sat at the end of the couch, and pulled her legs and feet under her.

After fifteen minutes, she heard the garage door open and Sidney’s SUV pull into his spot. Evie looked up as he walked through the door. "Hey," he said softly as he placed his keys in their designated spot. Evie responded quietly. He walked into the living room and stopped behind the couch. He bent down and kissed the top of her head. His arm wrapped her shoulders and he pulled her into a quasi hug. She looked up at him and smiled. "I am going to change. I will be down in a minute. I am not ready to go to sleep yet," he said in a low voice

Evie watched him ascend the stairs. He unbuttoned his shirt as he climbed. After a minute or two, she heard the door to Catherine's room open. Soon after, she heard it close and his heavy footsteps on the stairs. She glanced over when he plopped down on "his side" of the couch with just a pair of boxers on. He turned the television on and changed it to the History channel. He stared ahead blankly and she turned to study his face.

"Beso?" She said softly. He turned to face her. "Can we talk?" she asked. Sidney studied her face for a moment then patted the spot next to him. Evie crawled over to him and said "What do you want me to do? How can I help you?”

Sidney sighed, "You can't help."

Evie took his hand into hers and intertwined their fingers, "I would if I could. If I could get out there and play, I would do my best. I will do my best to help you."

Sidney kissed the top of her head, "I know Evie. I am just feeling a lot of feelings right now."

Evie looked into his eyes,"If you want to talk, let me know. If you want to make love, let me know. If you need to spank me, let me know. Even if you need me to leave you alone, let me know. I can and will do anything you need. You just can't shut me out with no communication."

Sidney put his hand on cheek and caressed her delicate skin with his thumb

He kissed her nose and spoke in a soft tone, "I won't Evie. I promise I won't shut you out. Can I put my head on your lap? Will you do the thing with my head?"

Evie smiled, "Yes, my Beso." She scooted down to the couch while he followed. He stretched out on his stomach and placed his head on her lap. Her right hand went to his head where she spread her fingers out and scratched his head. Her left hand lightly scratched his back. He sighed deeply and stared at the television. Within minutes he was asleep. When she stopped her hand movement, he would stir and moan. After fifteen minutes, she nudged him. "Beso, let's go to bed."

He picked his head up in confusion, but sat up. She took his hand and guided him up the stairs.in the bedroom, they both climbed into bed. Evie scooted close to Sidney. He held out this arm and she slid underneath. She placed her head on his chest and wrapped a leg over his. Soon Sidney was back to snoring. Evie fell asleep to the sound of his slow and rhythmic heartbeat.

It began with the sensation of Sidney's fingers trailing up Evie's thigh, over her satin pajama bottoms and under her top. She gasped in her sleep when his hand gripped her breast and teased her nipple. Her hand began its own journey across his chest, down his arm and over his boxers. His mouth made contact with her neck. "Evie," he pleaded in a voice dripped with desire and need, "please."

A breathless answer of "Yes, Beso-yes," was all that was needed before their bodies began their frenzied exploration of each other. Tentative, gentle kisses became passion filled as the pajamas were removed to allow better access. Limbs untangled as his hands slid between her legs. Her head threw back as he readied her. His fingers drew her close to the edge of her bliss. When her moans and whimpers became desperate and needy, he aligned himself any thrust into her. The warmth and wetness enveloped his cock. He started with a slow and steady stroke before his own need and desperation took over. The connection, though remained tender, as he dreamily chanted "I love you. I love you. Mon Etoile, I love you." Evie responded with her body. Her muscles teased him until she succumbed to her orgasm. He was shortly after but no less intense.

Silently their bodies clung together as their passion subsided. Instinctively they returned to their sleeping positions. Evie was almost asleep when Sidney's voice broke the silence.

"Evie," he said, "I'm scared."

She lifted her head up, "Scared of what?"

"We may not make the playoffs," he said quietly.

"There is still a chance, right?" she asked.

"Yes, but now I have to depend on someone else. I had the chance to do it myself and I didn't. I didn't get it done," he sighed.

"Beso, do you want a logical answer or the wife answer? she said.

He smiled, "There are different answers? Give me logical first."

"Tell me three things that you could have done differently," she answered, “Tell me what you could have done differently that would have changed the outcome.” Sidney stared at her. “Do you think that you came into the season unprepared?” she asked. He shook his no. “Do you think that you could have been more focused at training camp?” He shook his head no.

She peppered him with questions until he interrupted, “Okay, I get it. I did my best.”

"You did your best. Geno and Tanger did your best, but you can't do it all when the bottom two lines don't contribute in a meaningful way. The management doesn't address the issue and makes stupid ass trades. Add in inconsistent goaltending and quite frankly, it's a miracle that you are even in the hunt."

"Wow, tell me how you really feel," he said sarcastically before he saw her tear filled eyes. He sighed and rebuked his insensitivity. He kissed her softly and asked, “What’s the wifey answer?”

Evie kissed his chest then kissed his check. “The wifey answer is that it doesn’t matter if you miss the playoffs. At least it doesn’t matter to the people who count. On Friday morning, do you think it will matter to Catherine if her Daddy is in the playoffs? No, it will not because she adores you and as long as you are loving and playing with her then she is happy. It doesn’t matter to your friends. It doesn’t matter to your family and it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course, all of us want you to make the playoffs because we know how much it means to you. You are a competitor and have high expectations for yourself. We will cheer and support you in whatever way we can if the team does make it. However, none of us will respect you any more if you make it or any less If you don't. None of us love you any more or less if it doesn’t happen.”

“You are more than a hockey player, Beso. You are a friend, son, father and a husband. I don’t love you because the Penguins have gone to the playoffs sixteen years in a row. I love you because you are the kindest, generous, caring and loving person I have ever met. You are loved and adored because you are Sidney- nothing more and nothing less. I love you, I love you, I love you Beso.”

Sidney’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke passionately. His fingers played with her hair. When she finished her speech, he smiled up at her. "I have the best wifey ever. You should consider a career in motivational speaking," he teased as he pulled her to him. She returned her head to his chest and he pulled her tight to him.

"If it doesn't happen, Mr. Crosby may need his Princess urgently when we get back from Columbus," he said as he yawned.

"And his Princess will take care of him in complete submission," she said sleepily.

"Good girl," he whispered as he drifted into his dreams, "You are my good girl."

"Always and forever," she whispered as she followed him to sleep.

[anxxiousleo]

Today is Samhain. It is one of the most important of the 8 Sabbats as it is the Pagan New Year. The wheel of the year has turned full circle and a new year begins. The word Samhain means 'Suns end'. It is pronounced Sawin.

Leaves fall and the trees become silent and skeletal against the darkening skies. The sap which rose in the Spring and made the land fertile and green, now returns to the roots of the earth where it will wait silently until the warmth of Spring draws it back to the surface. This is the eternal cycle of life, death and rebirth, not a rigid straight line, but rather a continual cycle, season by season, year by year.

Samhain is the third of the harvest festivals, only this isn't a harvest of crops or grain, it is the harvest of flesh. It was the time of year when farmers and families would slaughter cattle and preserve the meat to last through the cold winter months.

Samhain is a festival of death as it is the death of the year and of the waxing Sun. It is also the death of the earth when plants, seeds and acorns are now slowly descending underground to ready themselves to be reborn in Spring. Animals will start to hibernate and the earth will appear barren as it sleeps through the winter months.

Earth energies are being pull inwards at this time, this is the time we should also be looking inwards at ourselves. Contemplate the year we have had and what lessons we have learned, whether they were good or bad, what can we take from them and use in the future.

The God of the waxing Sun descends into the underworld opening up the veil between the two worlds of the living and the dead. At Samhain spirits can commune with the living and visit us. We remember our ancestors and the people and pets who have died. We honour them by placing pictures of them on our altars and invite them to join us. We should also adorn our altars with seasonal fare such as fallen leaves, twigs, acorns, nuts, turnips and pumpkins and offer these as gifts to the the God and Goddess and thank them for their sacrifices.

On Samhain the triple Goddess who is maiden, mother and crone enters her final phase of the year, The Goddess enters her crone phase, she is the wise dark mother of knowledge and days past.

Although a time of death Samhain is also a time of fresh starts and new beginnings. It is a time of 'out with the old and in with the new' To start looking forward to our future.

On Samhain we should light a fire as this is primarily a Celtic fire festival where the villagers and towns folk would light giant bonfires to say goodbye to the God of the waxing Sun and to thank the Goddess for her harvest of gifts bestowed upon the earth. There would also be big feasts with stews, corn and breads and we would give thanks for people in our lives and show gratitude for all that we have and we give thanks to the people who are no longer with us and invite them to join us at the feast.

Light a candle tonight and put it at a window west facing to light the way for our lost loved ones and invite their spirits to visit us. If you don't have a west facing window, put the candle on the western most part of your home.

Today is a great time for divination, for doing Tarot reading and looking to the future and asking ourselves how we can improve our lives and move forward for the coming year.

Have a Blessed Samhain may the God and Goddess watch over you.

ctto: Wicca Teachings

[votederpycausemufins]

And the final chapter of Do Bots Dream of Electric Lives, which will lead into the start of season eight. And perhaps that ending bit will sound vaguely familiar to people who know.

Grian ended up winning Third Life. On the one hand, it was nice he won and just managed to get so far in the first place. On the other hand, it meant he took the longest to return. And when he did return, it was with Scar, something that didn’t really make Grum all too happy. It was even worse when Scar was brought along when Grian did show up, the two were even holding hands when they entered the room. Sure, they almost immediately stopped, Grian probably just dragging Scar along or perhaps the other way around, but Grum didn’t like it either way.

“Well you sure took your time!”

“You know I couldn’t just let myself die, Timmy” Grian argued back as he looked Grum over extensively.

“His name is Jimmy, Dad.” Grum complained, and he would have crossed his arms if one of them wasn’t being looked over at that moment.

“Oh I know that, I’m just teasing him.” Grian said, then finished up with Grum and moved onto his brother. “Have you two had any more issues? Any at all?”

“No? I don’t think so?” Jrum answered before giggling. “That tickles!”

“Speak for yourself.” Grum said, glaring towards Scar and crossing his arms. Grian was concerned for a moment, ready to hear something more important before he followed Grum’s gaze and frowned.

“Grum, Scar and I were sort of… we went through a lot during Third Life. And the way it ended-”

“What did happen anyway?” Jimmy asked, getting an explanation from Scar regarding Bdubs and the clock and then the betrayal and finally the fight within the cactus ring before Grian jumped off the desert mountain. “Oh, well that sure was a lot. Uh, is it okay if I go catch up with Scott, or should I stick around.”

“I guess you could go.” Grum spoke up. “But make Scar leave too!”

“Grum isn’t the biggest fan of Scar.” Grian quickly explained before Grum started to rant about how Mumbo should have been mayor. Jimmy got the hint and pulled Scar along as he left the room, something Grum appreciated. “Well, is there anything actually important that was an issue?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s an issue for them…” Mumbo started to speak up. “But you probably won’t be the happiest about it.”

Grian narrowed his eyes and started to open his mouth to ask what Mumbo meant before he noticed the box in Mumbo’s hand and quickly put the pieces together. “Mumbo! I was waiting for a better time for that!”

“I know, but it seemed connected and you weren’t around so this was the best we could manage.”

Grian huffed before Jrum tugged on his sweater to get his attention. “Dad, are we really Watchers like you?”

Grian looked conflicted before finally answering. “Yes, at least, sort of I think. You’re not exactly like me or the others, just, when making you I guess I sort of used a little bit of magic I had from my Watcher days, which is probably why you two are as, uh, sentient as you are.”

“Why didn’t you mention it already?” Grum asked, wondering why it had been kept from them.

“Well, at the very least the two of us didn’t know until your birthdays. Well, the celebration that is, not your actual birthdays.” Mumbo piped up. “These masks appeared with your presents and we just sort of… set them aside for later.”

“I was planning on telling you two on our way to season eight since it’s going to take a while to get there.” Grian admitted. “I wanted you two to end the season without this hanging over your head, then talk about it on the way and give you all that time to sort of… process it while we were travelling.”

“Well, we kinda still can, right?” Jrum asked. “I mean, we just just sorta pretend we didn’t know, and then you can tell us all about it then! We just know we’re gonna talk about it later now instead of it being a surprise.”

“I guess that is one way of looking at it, right Grian?”

Grian took a moment to think it over before looking over to Grumbot. “Well, what do you think about it? You’ve been affected by it a bit more than your brother, at least based on what he told me before.”

“Um, okay. It seemed like it was sort of happening because I was missing you.” Grum admitted. “But can you still stay here for a little while?”

Grian nodded and came over to Grum, hugging him. Jrum quickly jumped on top of the pair to join the hug as well, and Mumbo was pulled in shortly for a big group hug. Grian was able to talk about a few highlights of Third Life, also getting the chance to explain to Grumbot just why exactly he and Scar had ended up as a team, which the robot begrudgingly accepted as an answer. 

.

.

.

“That is… a very big ship.” Grum said while looking at the thing currently floating in the ocean around the cowmercial district.

“Yeah, I sort of said the same thing when I saw it the first time. And this isn’t even the full ship, just this season’s piece.”

Sitting in the ocean was the Hermitheus, the ship that took the Hermits between seasons and even carried along certain landmarks from each season, as sort of trophies or whatever. Currently what was present was only a fraction of the whole spaceship, a label printed on the hull listing it as the ‘S7’ piece. A few hermits were loading in some of the landmarks, like the entire town hall.

“I thought other people could visit the world after us. Aren’t they going to be upset at missing stuff?”

“No, not really.” Mumbo started as he walked up, having finished with helping to pack up the last piece of the barge. “The world others visit is a sort of… duplicate of this one, not the real one. It’s to make things a little safer. If we tell everyone that the other world is the one we use, then it makes it harder for er, certain people to learn where we’ve gone.”

“Why would we need to hide that?” Jrum asked, poking his head out from the shulker boxes of the items he and Grum had packed. “We’re just moving.”

“Well, Hermitcraft is pretty well known.” Grian started to explain. The bots already knew how the hermits filmed their exploits to share to others for entertainment, but not some of what came from that. “And not everyone is the nicest. There are some people who would probably want to make a mess of things. Like, imagine if there were hundreds of Evil Xisumas who would want to get into Hermitcraft.”

“Hey, I heard that!” A voice came from the Hermitheus piece as Evil X poked their head out from the bay doors. “I at least have tact when it comes to messing with all of you. Those pieces of-” “Children!” “-fine, those POSes would like to do things far worse than I.”

“Worse than you?” Grum asked, confused. He knew from Jrum that Evil Xisuma’s whole evilness wasn’t the most standard, and that they had a soft side, but he didn’t imagine they would admit it so easily.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re very surprised such a thing exists, but there are some crimes that even I look down upon. There are certain people who don’t like to treat hybrids as regular players. Then there’s the divide between players from regular worlds and those from modded worlds. And don’t get me started on what speedrunners have become these days! Turning it into some stupid competition instead of potential lives being on the line, those imbeciles!”

“Ooo I wanna know about that on the way!” Jrum exclaimed, starting to run towards the ship before doubling back to pick up boxes.

“Man, I can’t figure out why Xisuma thought he'd be safe to bring along. His vibes just don’t feel right man.”

Grum jumped at the new voice before looking at who spoke. He recognized the owner of the voice, but only because of the descriptions he had gotten from his dad in the past. “Uh, are you Renbob?”

“That I am lil dude. And I guess you’re supposed to be Grumbot. Nice to meet you man. We made sure to trick out the ship with enough space for you and the other two. Though Evil Xisuma and his own friend were sort of last minute additions.”

“And his friend?” Mumbo asked. “Xisuma said his brother would be the only other addition.”

“Well tell that to the other guy they dragged along who’s up at the main portion, man. Keeps asking a lot of technical questions. Stuff about virus protections and simulated realities, man.”

“I see.” Mumbo said, looking a little worried. “Um, would they happen to look like Grian, or-”

“Nah, more of a piglin or something similar, man. At least the dude is getting along alright with my compadre on the controls.”

“Oh, speaking of other people.” Grian spoke up, cutting off the current conversation on who Grum assumed was likely Prof. “Have you already picked up the other new hermits, or is that going to be next?”

“We did that part first, man. Already inside the main ship, so you’ll see them when we’re all finished here. Only reason the evil dude is here is because his friend insisted on it. Couldn’t tell you why though.”

Grum didn’t really listen to the rest, noticing Jrum waving him over. Grum picked up the rest of their shulker boxes and carried them inside, Jrum pointing him towards a ladder. He followed behind and climbed up to a balcony overlooking the storage for the season seven builds. On a piece of the balcony was an area for Grum and Jrum’s shulker boxes, even being labeled as such. Once they were placed down, the two followed further listed instructions and placed a net over the boxes, strapping it down to the floor immediately afterwards. 

Before long, the other hermits joined on the ship, the bots finding their way to their dads. Grum made sure to keep a careful eye on Evil Xisuma though, and was glad to see he was nearby Xisuma. There were a few stragglers that everyone had to wait for of course. Iskall arrived and proclaimed they had finally placed all the leaves on their base, getting some cheers from the hermits. Jevin was also a little late, and looking a bit green. Not so much in the sense that he looked sick, but more that he looked more like a regular slime. Grum could see a few hermits ask about it, but he seemed to brush it off, and Grum wasn’t sure if the way Evil X seemed to suddenly be acting meant anything.

But he didn’t have time to think about it long, as Renbob gave one last announcement and warning before the ship piece took off to reconnect with the main ship. Once it did and the shutter at the one end of the ship piece opened up to the rest of the main spacecraft, Jrum was off to explore, Grum following behind.

As the other hermits made their way in that direction, the bots looked out over the balconies of the other season segments, looking at the builds brought along. Jrum was happy to point out Sahara as well as Concorp in the season six area, knowing enough about the two to get excited upon recognizing them. The stuff in the older seasons was less familiar, having heard more about the previous season rather than anything before that. Though technically, season seven was now the previous season.

At the end of the piece of the first season was the main portion of the ship. It had what seemed to be some living quarters as well as navigational systems. But a little more exploring led the bots to find the engines or whatever equivalent the ship had, plus a hangar that seemed to have a tricked out RV. But one thing the bots didn’t find was any area for places to pass the time.

“Hey Daddy? What do you guys do on the way to the next season? Do you go exploring in the old stuff? Or is there some place we didn’t see?”

“Oh, um, well…” Mumbo hesitated. “See those sort of… pod things in the main room?” Mumbo pointed and Grum and Jrum both looked over before looking back and nodding. “See, we sort of use those to… kind of sleep most of the way there. It makes things seem to go faster, but we also don’t stay in there the whole trip of course. Just for extended periods of time. We do try to plan things so that it won’t be just one of us… awake at a time. Oh this is a little hard to explain. Probably easier when we actually do it.”

“Will it work for Jrum and I since we’re robots?” Grum asked, and by the look on Mumbo’s face, it seemed he didn’t know. So, because of that, Grum walked over to the pair of people who stood at the controls, one he recognized, one not so much.

“Oh! H-hello th-there.” Prof spoke, before apologizing for his speech. “S-sorry. B-bad day.”

“It’s okay!” Jrum assured him before looking at the other person. “Who are you supposed to be.”

“I’m the Goat Father.” They answered in a gruff voice. “Now what do you want?”

“Oh, well, we’re just wondering if those sleep things will work on us at all?” Jrum pointed toward the pods. “Since we’re kinda robots and not, like, normal players.”

The Goat Father looked Grum and Jrum over for a moment before Prof wrote something on his clipboard and showed it to him. “Yes, it will work on you two. You two simply have special ones to use. Not out of the ordinary though. Some of the other hermits are… special cases as well.”

“How do we know which ones are ours?” Grum asked before being taken over to two pods. They weren’t next to each other, so Grum then asked why that was.

“They’re placed within alphabetical order based on the legal names of all the hermits. You’re listed under Grumbot_System, which leaves you after Grian and before Hypnotizd, meanwhile Jrumbot is placed between joehillssays and Keralis1.”

Jrum started counting through the pods, then paused just before reaching the one that was supposed to be Grian’s. “Why isn’t that one Grum’s?”

Prof gestured to the one two before that, the Goat Father giving the actual explanation. “That one there belongs to one of the new hermits that will be joining you in season eight. More specifically, Geminitay. The other hermit will be-”

“Pearl!” The bots turned towards their dad, who had shouted the name. They turned at just the right time to see Grian fly right into an unfamiliar person, tackling them to the ground with a hug, wings flapping in joy. “I’m so glad to see you! Oh! You need to meet the boys! Grum, Jrum, come over here and meet Pearl!”

.

.

.

“Now, I can just place this here and- Ow! Hey!” Evil Xisuma turns around after being slapped by a clipboard. “What was that for?!”

Prof doesn’t answer and merely smacks Evil X again, making him growl. “D-Don’t do it.”

“And let a plan like this go to waste? Absolutely not. You and NPG already ruined the other one. Plus even if I could salvage it, the Hermits already plotted out the world they’re using for their upcoming season, so I can’t really make any changes to the navigation.”

“Th-they l-l-l” Prof started before getting frustrated and writing on his clipboard, turning it around and shoving it in Evil’s face.

“Yes, and letting me join them is their mistake!” They said, shoving the clipboard away. “Honestly why my brother is this trusting is anyone’s guess. You would think- What now?!”

Prof had written more on the clipboard and forced Evil X to read it, pointing over to the pods where the hermits were currently stationed. More specifically he pointed at three pods in particular, which Evil X did look over before scoffing.

“Then I’ll leave them out of it. The rest can suffer just fine.” Prof whacked EX with the clipboard again before pointing to a few more hermits. “Ow! Okay look maybe I could keep those few out of it as well and-” Prof pointed to even more. “Stop that! If I cared about what every hermit thought about the others, I wouldn’t do anything. Sure, NPG likes those two well enough because they’re family… and then their parents being hurt would upset them, and their friends being in the same scenario, but it would just completely snowball from there!”

“Th-then d-don’t d-do it!”

“X-Xannes-”

“Shut the fuck up! Or I’ll make sure what happened to you is permanent this time regardless of whatever robotics you add!”

“...”

“Shit… I didn’t mean-”

“I-it’s ok-kay. I’m not s-stopping y-you g-going bec-cause y-you need t-time out of h-hels. I a-also h-heard that th-the world is a n-newer o-one.”

“It’s- Who cares, I’m out of practice anyway.”

Evil Xisuma flinched as a hand was placed on his shoulder. “D-do that. And a-at l-least try. I-I’ll h-handle h-h-hels j-just f-fine. A-and NPG c-can b-b-be helpf-ful when h-he needs t-to be.”

“Fine, whatever. You win for now. At least for now I won’t add in the virus. But no promises I won’t try mid season when you’re not around.”

Prof nodded before turning at the same time Evil X did, both hearing approaching footsteps.

“Hey mans, hope neither of you were messin’ up any of the controls because the goat wouldn’t like that at all, man.” Prof wrote on his clipboard before showing it off to Renbob. “‘I was making sure they didn’t mess with anything.’ Aw great, nice to hear dude. And it looks like we’re still on a great schedule. Man, this new season should end up going great. So many new hermits, right my man?”

“I will tear your face off and eat it if you keep calling me that.”

“Hey no worries, just had to say something. Is dude gender neutral enough for you?”

“...”

“D-Don’t”

“Shut up!” and Evil X stormed off, flipping both people off before stomping towards the various season ship segments to go sulk.

“Th-they’ll be f-fine. P-robably.”

“Good enough for me dude!”

[rains-inky-mind]

15 Questions But Make It Unhinged™️

Tagged by @sleepyowlwrites, Sleepy friend. Noticing that my unhinged, you actually meant we get to skip question number four. There's only 14 questions lol.

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, sadly. Would've been cool to be named after my dad, cause then I would've been "the third", but I'm a female so that was a no-go. Sadly.

Instead my name literally means "Laurel tree Ash tree Laurel field"...so that's...nature-y. (Also why I clung to the nickname my father gave me.)

2. When was the last time you cried?

This evening. My husband put on Up and before it even started I told him I was going cry. I lost it when Ellie was painting the nursery, then when she was in the doctors office, because who wouldn't?? I did laugh at the cloud babies though, because wth??

3. Do you have kids?

Serious for a second. I have two angel babies that I lost to miscarriage.

I also have a healthy, happy, overactive toddler. She's perfect, but in the way that she'll drive you crazy and you never get to sit down.

4. Sports?

I played Soccer as a child. I hated it and had horrid anxiety. My team literally nicknamed me "Bellyache". Like, that's what my team trophy said. Needless to say I quit after one season.

The only sport I'm into these days is seeing how late I can stay up before my eyes physically won't stay open.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Vibes. It's all vibes. Especially being into weird stuff and weird aesthetics and being neurodivergent—if we don't vibe, we don't interact.

6. What's your eyecolor?

My eye colour depends on my mood, my outfit, the weather, etc. They're mostly blue, but can be grey or green as well. Depends on various factors.

Not my eyes, but a cool thing about my husband's eyes, they're the most awesome eyes I've ever seen. They are blue/green and have a yellow ring around the inner part of his eye. It's really cool and super pretty. His eyes also turn green when he lies, so that's dope.

7. Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

I love 80s Horror movies. They make the best comedies. I can't watch scary horror movies though. I enjoy them in the moment, but they give me severe anxiety that builds up and causes non-verbal panic attacks in the middle of the night. So that's not fun.

I also don't really care about happy endings. Yeah, they're nice and most of the time they tie everything up neatly with a bow—but I like endings that you don't see coming from a mile away. I like twist endings. I like when the guy doesn't get the girl. I like when the goal MC has been chasing for the whole movie isn't realized and there's heartbreak.

8. Any special talents?

None that really come to mind. Unless being clumsy is a talent? Falling up the stairs. Tripping over flat surfaces. Pushing doors that say "pull" and vice-versa.

No, wait, I do have one special talent. I'm too short to drive most cars comfortably. Most of my husband's trucks (he's owned three, I think, since we started dating until now) I haven't been able to drive. Even my own car, it's comfortable, I can reach the pedals, but the dash is kinda tall (there's a hump on the driver's side) that I sometimes struggle to see things too close infront of me.

9. Where were you born?

In the same hospital that my husband would be born in a month later. One of many, many hospitals in my large city.

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, crocheting, drawing, making graphics—we could be here all night. Pretty much whatever my special interest is at the moment defines what my hobbies are at a given time.

11. Do you have pets?

I do not.

I would love to have a cat. A soft little mew mew to creep around and claw up the furniture. I'd name it something like Poe or Cherrio or Midnight. But alas, I'm allergic.

I would also love to have a dog, but I'd want a specially trained one for my various health issues. It would also have to do well with kids. As much as I'd like one, I can't afford one and I think I'm allergic to dogs as well. I'm a woman of many allergies.

12. How tall are you?

Well this one depends on who you ask. Since I was twelve years old ever doctor that I go to tells me something different, but always within the range of 5'1"—5'2" with the outlier being the very strange doctor who informed me I was 5'3", which I know is wrong. I like to just go with 5'1". I'm short and I enjoy it. I wouldn't wish to be tall.

It does have its disadvantages though, especially around my husband's family. Their heights range from 6' to 6'6" and his grandfather was 7'. Plus he's one of seven brothers. My short self gets lost in the crowd of tall ass guys.

13. Favourite subject in school?

MATH. I freakin' loved math. Since I was a kid it's always been my favourite subject. One of my friends as an adult teased me, telling me that only autistic people favored math and numbers—the joke being that I found out I was autistic a few months later.

14. Dream job?

I would love be the the Old Lady Who Lived in the Shoe™️. Joking, joking. I would love to own my own bakery. To make fresh cakes and cookies and breads daily. If my body wasn't so run down at the old age of 23, I may shoot for it one day—But even as it stands now, to make one batch of cupcakes takes me most of the day and I can't move the next day. Tis life's cruel joke.

Tagging: @lyra-brie @another-white-hole @delilahsdaydream @epnona-the-wisp

[cosmo-lexies]

Dylan season 1 (1/7)

@dylan_torres06 (Wooden Town, Washington)

"Do you know this feeling thatno matter what you do, you're going to fuck it? For me, it's not a feeling it's my day-to-day. Hooking up with someone older, yelling at my social worker, or kissing a girl for whom I feel nothing is only a small part of my problems. The big part is my powers which my family knows nothing about. Fuck, I don't know how I survive until graduation. I should talk to them, shouldn't I? Ahhh, fucking l..."

(draft) 11:09 p. m. 26 Mar.

Warnings: This book has toxic relationships between an adult and a minor. These types of relationships are dangerous in real life. Besides, the book is about hard relationships with parents and abandonment issues.

Although these issues aren't shown in very explicit or extreme ways, they can be hard for some people. If some of these themes are tough for you, maybe you prefer not to carry on.

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

1: Motels are more fun than they seem until your social worker arrives

We were laying down naked on the bed, while the final light of the day slips in through the window. He was sweaty and tired; I was normal. It had been fun, but It was impossible that I would be worn out like him.

"You can shower off first," he said with a somber expression, "although you don't need," he whispered.

The same situation always happened when we made out. He goes go to the limit hoping that, I would end up tired or said that was the best sex of my life or something similar. I don't understand him, I guess he wanted a way to show his manliness. It's a stupid idea of millennials, sex shouldn't be a demonstration of anything and I'm not an object.

When I left the bathroom, he was reclining on the bed with a victorious pose. He is so stupid; fortunately, he'svery hot. He got into the bath, and I dressed. The motel was cheap, but it was in a good place for nobody saw me. I'd rather not give an explanation to my aunt and uncle. Perhaps it was the moment to stop the relationship. Too much risk to see an asshole who doesn't respect me.

Mike got out of the bath, and he came straight to kiss me.

"Your eyes are so fire, I'm loving that caramel color." He said with a handsome smile.  At this moment, I thought that some date without any obligation wouldn't hurt anyone.

When we were ready, I opened the door and saw the men in black. He was waiting for me, leaning on his rental Prius with his typical sunglasses. It was April in the afternoon he didn't need the glasses.

"You want me to give you a ride?" Mark asked me while he was checking hir messages.

"Don't worry, a friend has come to pick me up, " I pointed to Andrew.

He checks out Andrew for a sec. Then he took my head and french-kissed me while he stared at my social services worker. I shoved him with more care than he deserved.

"Oww, my arm dude," he said.

"Fuck you! I go."

"I love when you played hard to get. I will send you a DM for Instagram later," he said with a smug tone.

I carried on without glancing at him. In the car, Andrew followed me with his head, judging me.

"Hey, doesn't the government give you a phone? You could try phoning me like a regular person instead of stalking me."

"This man is older than you," my distraction hadn't worked "you have a problem, kid."

I got into the car and closed the door with strength. He also got inside and started the car.

"Who I hook up with is not your business."

"My business is that you're safe and sound. And hidden dates in sordid motels with strangers aren't safe. Who old is he?"

"Yes, super-dangerous. Perhaps he could stab me or shoot me," I said sarcastically.

"First, your powers don't make you immortal. Second, there are other ways of making hurt that isn't physical. Third, I want to know who that man is and how old he is, now!" he said seriously.

I guess that jumping out of the car had been the best; however, he had closed the doors. I have used this trick too many times. Technically, it was just two, but I guess that's too many for this type of thing.

"He is Mark and lives in Vancouver, Canadian. He works in Portland. The weekend goes home; usually, we meet up some Sundays when he goes to Portland."

"Dylan, you know it, isn't it?" I hated when he made this. I fucking know, I'm not stupid.

"Yes, they have an open relationship."

"Do you really believe that?" I didn't respond. "How old is he?" I was able to think of some distractions.

"He was twenty-five," I shouldn't have answered, what was the worse that he could have done. However, Andrew's a hard guy to dodge; he knows how to manipulate me like a Jedi.

"Dylan, shit, you are sixteen years old. The last girl was nineteen and it was too much, but this man almost could be your ..." he didn't complete the sentence. "Dylan..."

"Dylan, what. We didn't make anything wrong it's only consensual sex," I said angrily.

"You can't have consensual sex with someone so old," he yelled at me.

"In this state is legal. Besides, turning seventeen in a few weeks,"

"This is not the point" he parked on the hard shoulder and pick up his phone resolutely. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I was freaking out in my head.

"Please, he doesn't know it. It's all my fault," he took down the phone, "I told him that I'm nineteen years old. I'm 1.70 meters tall, weigh 75 kilos, and started shaving at thirteen. I look twenty years old. I know I'm pathetic," I said turning my face.

"You aren't pathetic. You mess up sometimes, same as everybody else," he sighed.

He put the phone in the glove box and restarted the car. This had been a disaster; at least I avoided a group of agents appearing in Mark's house or something. But, I had a new lie on the counter. It's true that Mark doesn't know my real age; he never asks.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. The following parts will be out soon, or you can read all season 1 in wattpad