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kamaluhkhan · 3 months

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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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fhrlclln · 10 months

Text

miguel o’hara x wife! reader

guys… i just wanna rub his back 🥹 (this small fic is solely for my self-pleasure lmao)

LIKE LOOK AT HOW BROAD AND WIDE AND I COULD JUST CLIMB HIM— but anyways, waking up miguel with back rubs cuz i know he needs them desperately.

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

you groaned awake, eyes fluttering open as the morning sun shined through the bedroom. you grumbled, feeling a warmth beside you as you groggily lifted your head up with a surprise awaiting. a sleeping surprise actually.

miguel was sleeping next to you, stomach down and arm wrapped around his pillow, amusingly you cocked to your side, surprised to see your husband is actually sleeping beside you. knowing him, you had guessed he’d be at his lab last night, sleeping in usual by that small couch he placed in it. you weren’t utterly disappointed that he’s like this, he’s a busy man, a busy man with a lot of work going on in his life than most. you smiled sleepily, admiring the way how relaxed he is, light snores coming out of his mouth. and how his bare tan back was deliciously being glistened by the lovely sunlight.

god, you’re certainly awake now as his muscles flexed suddenly as he moved in his sleep, head moving to the other side to face you. your heart fluttered, finally seeing his face, yet you frowned a bit seeing his eye bags were more sunken than last week and his face seemed more paler than usual. you sighed, guessing he came home more tired than usual. you glance wearily at the digital clock, seeing it was almost noon, you guessed both of you overslept a bit. you yawned, stretching, your tank top scrunched up a bit as you giddily glided your hand to touch his back, wanting to slowly arouse him from his sleep to join you for brunch.

“mhmm…” he groaned a bit, thick brows of his scrunching cutely. you silently chuckled, moving your body to sit up as you softly rubbed circular motions on his broad back. you hoped your touch wasn’t that cold as you felt him shift again before he continued snoring.

“miguel… wake up. ‘s almost lunch time.” you softly whispered, kissing his shoulder as you continued rubbing up to his deltoids. your hand wasn’t that big to completely rub each part of his muscled back, he was big, big in all sizes, which you love about him. even in height he towered over you, mostly you love the way you’d grip his back, loving the feel of it when you’re under him. you bit your lip, a little flustered now how frisky you are just by watching your husband sleep. you can sense him finally waking up, you kissed the back of his neck, pressing your body on his as you snuggled against his side until his arm suddenly pulled you in closer, engulfing in his embrace, making you giggle. the scent of him covering your nose as you sighed happily.

“too early, hermosa.” miguel grumbles as he squints his eyes open to see you. you kiss the tip of his chin, wrapping your arm around his waist as you rubbed more circles on his back, making him groan in pleasure.

“that feel good, honey?” you whispered sweetly, nuzzling your nose on his neck. his arm shifted, hand now moving along the expanse of your thigh, gripping your bare flesh, your sleep shorts riding up, making you squeeze your legs at the feel of his rough calloused fingers.

“yeah, yeah, i’m awake.” he chuckles tiredly, the pupils of his eyes dilated as he ducks down to kiss you. you moan, feeling a little helpless as he moves to tower over you, making you forget what you woke him up for as he kisses down to your neck. grinding his hips to yours, the clock turning to almost 12:00 as he gently bites down.

it was a good way to start the morning though.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

domestic bliss i love it

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s favorites 💌 ∘°∘♡∘°∘

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emmyrosee · 6 months

Text

You’ve been sneaking into Kenma’s room for years.

It started when you were very young, having left your gameboy at Kenma’s house after a few rounds of Mario. You managed to toss a few rocks at his window, and once he silently unlocked the door and let you in, you quickly scurried back out hours later with a grateful smile.

Then, you started to sneak through his window. Seeing the flashes of lights at god knows what hours was something you knew meant he was awake, and you’d climb out from your sheets and crossed the street to his place. Again, you’d throw rocks at his window, and when he’d tried to go open the door, he hadn’t expected you scale up the large tree just a few feet away.

Tonight was no different; he’s tapping away wildly on his console while you scurry up the tree in your slippers, smooshing your face against the glass when he finally sees you and opens the window.

You’d finally tumbled in, and he gave you a tired sigh, “you’re annoying.”

“And you’re still playing. I wanted to watch you play.”

“You could’ve just texted me. You left marks on my glass.”

“I needed the exercise. What time do you need me out of here?”

“Kuroo drags me by the ankle out of here by 06:30. Be out beforehand.”

You smirk and nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to send you a glare before sitting back down on the floor. “Sleep on the bed, help yourself to pajamas.”

“You like him, kenma,” you tease. You see him tense up before he shakes his head.

“No,” he says simply. “I don’t. Not like that anyways.”

“Just not used to you having other friends besides me,” you hum. He huffs in annoyance.

“Are you gonna watch, or do I have to kick you out of my room?”

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll behave. Only because I hate climbing your tree.”

Kenma doesn’t like Kuroo. Honest! He thinks he’s cute, sure, gets why the girls like him and boys follow him around, he’s fine enough on a scale of emotional and physical attraction.

But Kuroo’s not the one Kenma’s eyes stay focused on. It’s you.

You’re funny, he likes the way you eat foods that you don’t like first, before diving into the favorites after to savor them. You’re cute, and you’re bad at the differences between contexts of words, and you have a little eye twitch that bestows you in a moment of quick thoughtfulness.

You don’t ask him why he’s up so late, you ask him the answers to homework and give him gummy worms as a thank you. You never overstay a welcome, always either leaving before the sun comes up, or staying quiet while you sleep on the bed.

He likes the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the roll of your eyes when he tells you “no” when you want the answer to be “yes”, the little snickers that slip out at Kuroo’s expense at Kenma’s quick thinking.

“Kenma?”

“Im busy.”

“I want to cuddle.”

The way you want physical touch when you’re tired.

Yeah. As your best friend, he really is bias to that one.

With a groan, he pauses and saves his game under slot 3, shuts down the console before crawling up and into his bed next to you, the cold sheets shooting his nerves until they warm under your shared warmth. You bury your nose in his collar and he takes out his phone for you both to watch tiktok.

“Kenma?”

“Go to sleep.”

“When you marry Kuroo, can I be the ring bearer?”

“If i marry Kuroo, I want you far, far from my ceremony.”

He practically hears you pout, “you’re no fun.”

“I sure am not.”

For someone who has no fun, not one fun bone in his body, he’s amazed at how comfortable you are in his grip and he in yours, fingers fisting his nightshirt until his own eyes grow heavy.

And if Kuroo walked in just a few hours later at 06:30, only to see his best friend cuddling with someone he loves most, he didn’t say anything and closed the door softly behind him.

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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In From The Rain

Oscar Piastri x plant nerd!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution. Check out the moodboard here!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: none

The greenhouse is quiet in the early morning. It’s one of your favorite things. Before the customers come in, looking for flowers for their porch or vegetable plants for their gardens, it’s just you and the plants and the sun streaming in through the glass. So when somebody interrupts your morning solitude, you’re not exactly happy about it.

Sure, you’re technically open, but nobody ever gets here this early. You’re watering plants in your rain boots, a mug of coffee in your hand, when the front door swings open. You turn to look, the noise startling you.

The man who walks in looks sheepish when his eyes meet yours. He ducks under a hanging basket, nearly trips over your garden hose. His cheeks flush red. You’d be more irritated with his presence if he wasn’t being so cute about it.

“Sorry, the- the sign said open,” he says, backing towards the door.

“You’re fine. We are open,” you affirm, flicking off the sprayer before you drown the petunias in front of you. “I was just surprised to see someone in here so early.”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound. Almost as nice a sound as his voice, with an Australian accent. He stops backing away. You should probably point out that he’s standing in a puddle, but you’re not sure if that’s really your place.

“Can I help you find something?” You ask.

He takes a step forward. A thick band of sunlight shines down on the top of his head, like a halo. He brushes his floppy hair from his face.

“No, that’s okay. You’re busy, I’ll just have a look around,” he says.

You nod. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

You turn back to the flower trays in front of you. They’ll need pruning, soon. And some of the hanging baskets are getting a bit unruly- it’ll likely be time to put them on sale in the next few days, to open up space for new plants. You can hear the man walking around behind you, peering at the plants. His footsteps are hesitant, and when you look, he has his hands held behind his back. He leans close to read the signs, brows tightly wound.

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking for.

You put the hose away and set your nearly empty coffee down at your workstation in the back of the greenhouse. Then you make your way back up to the front, where he’s standing near the succulents.

“Sure you don’t want help?” You ask.

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Is it that obvious that I’ve got no idea what I’m doing?”

“A bit,” you say, and he laughs again. “That’s okay, though. It’s what I’m here for. What are you looking for?”

He stands up straight, eyes dancing over the greenhouse. “So. I’ve been told my apartment is boring. A friend suggested a plant to liven up the space.”

You nod. A tale as old as time. He’ll either kill the plant within a week or fill his whole place with them.

“But I’m gone a lot for work,” he says. “Like, a lot. So I need something that won’t wilt the second I’m gone, you know?”

You nod. “Does your apartment get good light?”

He laughs. “I don’t know what good light means.”

“Which direction do your windows face?”

“South,” he says, confidently. “Google said that was good. Right?”

You fight a laugh. He’s a bit adorable. Trying very hard to get it right. Like this is a test with right and wrong answers.

“Yeah, south facing is great.” You gesture towards the succulents. “You could get a succulent. They can go weeks without watering, but they need lots of light.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “I thought these were cactuses. Or cacti?”

“Close,” you tell him, and he smiles again. “Cacti are the ones with the spikes.”

He nods in understanding. He crouches down, then, eye levels with the little plants. Your heart is melting. You scuff one of your rain boots against the ground. You could stand here and watch the way his long eyelashes flutter as he blinks all day, but that would be creepy and you have a job you’re supposed to be doing.

“How do I know which one to get?” He says, quietly. “Like… there are so many different kinds.”

Your face breaks out into a huge grin. He’s so endearing. “I think you’ll know when you see it.”

He appears at the front cash register ten minutes later, a succulent in hand. It’s a little one, the perfect starter plant. He’s eyeing the decorative pots next to you, brows furrowed again.

“Those are too big for that plant,” you tell him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There are smaller ones on the other side of the display.”

He moves to look. You hear him shuffling, hear him pick up pots and then set them down. Then he appears again, a little pot with black and white checkerboard print on it in his other hand.

“Perfect,” you say softly. “Have you got potting soil?”

He clears his throat. “Um. No, but I’ve got a courtyard at my apartment with a garden… but I’m sensing from the look on your face that that won’t do.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Then you reach under the counter and grab one of the small sample bags of potting soil you keep on hand.

“Here. On the house.” You say. “So you can put that plant in the pot.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he says. He sets the other items down on the counter. “Thanks for all your help, actually.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

You bag the items carefully, making sure the plant won’t be squished. You put a care instruction sheet in the bag, too. Then you slide it to him with a smile.

“There’s a care sheet in there that should help. Enjoy your new plant,” you say. “I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” he says.

He leaves, then, and you’re left with your quiet greenhouse once again. It’s odd. Usually you breathe a sigh of relief after a customer leaves. But this time, you almost want him to come back.

…..

Two weeks later, you’re back at your workstation re-potting a sad looking philodendron. You look up from it when you hear the bell over the front door ring. The watering is already done, the hose put away, so there’s nothing for the man to trip over this time. But it is the same guy, and he ducks under the hanging basket the same way. You should maybe move it, but he seems to be the only one who’s had an issue with it. You stand up, wiping the dirt from your hands on your apron.

“You didn’t kill that succulent already, did you?” You call out.

His eyes dart to meet yours, and he laughs. “No! Promise.”

“Good. That would be a new record,” you laugh.

You let him wander the store on his own for a few minutes as you get the philodendron correctly in the new pot. Then you give it some water and take it with you to set it back out on the shelf. He’s still the only other person in the store, and he’s currently eyeing the flats of flowering plants.

“It’s actually going really well,” he says as you walk by. “He has a new leaf.”

That’s when you know the guy is hooked. He has a new leaf. The plant is no longer just a plant to him. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if he’s the type to name his plants. You set the one in your hands down on the table in front of you, your back to him so he doesn’t see your wide grin. When you turn around, you tone it down.

“That’s great,” you say encouragingly. “So I’m guessing you want another one?”

He nods, rubbing his finger over the leaf of a fiddle leaf fig. “Yeah, but I’m thinking something different this time. Something bigger.”

“You don’t want that one,” you say, and he backs away from the fig tree slightly. “Fiddle leafs are notoriously dramatic. If you left her for a week she’d drop all her leaves.”

He sighs and stands up. “What would you suggest?”

You wave him over to another area of the store. He follows eagerly, footsteps splashing in the leftover puddles from the morning watering. You lead him to a section of spiky, tall plants.

“Snake plant,” you say, pointing at them.

He’s standing next to you, and your shoulders just barely brush. A shiver runs down your spine. You try to hide it.

“Snake plant,” he repeats. “The name makes sense.”

“People also call them mother in law’s tongue,” you add. You fight the urge to check his ring finger. “But if you’ve got a mother in law I’d suggest avoiding that name.”

He laughs, and his shoulder bumps into your again. “I don’t. But snake plant sounds cooler.”

You nod in agreement. “They do well with very little water. And, they can do okay in pretty low light, too. So if you’ve got a darker area that needs a plant, it would be a good fit.”

He’s up at the register ten minutes later, plant and a pot in hand. This one is plain terracotta. You like that he’s the type of person to buy the pots, too. Some people just leave them in the boring plastic, and it makes you sad to think about. All plants deserve a nice home. You say that to him as you ring him up, and he laughs. He’s also grabbed a small bag of potting soil this time.

Your repeat the process, same as last time, and hand him the bag. He takes it, and then he hesitates.

“Thanks again,” he says, juggling the bag until it’s held in one arm. He sticks his hand out to you. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

You tell him your name, though you’re sure he could read it off your nametag, too. When you shake his hand, you swear the warmth of it runs all the way up your arm. He thanks you again, and then he disappears out the door once again. That ache is back in your chest. You find yourself hoping he’ll be back soon.

…..

He does come back. Multiple times. He buys more succulents on one trip, asking you to help him choose between them, and then he ends up buying all three instead. Another morning he comes in and you show him a ZZ plant you’ve just gotten in that you think will be perfect for him- you don’t tell him you’ve been saving it for him at your work station. It’s just… you know it’ll look great next to the snake plant he bought.

Each time he comes to the store, he hangs around a little longer. You chat about the weather, about the plants in the store, about his plants at home. You tell him funny stories about other customers and complain to him about the rude ones. In return, he tells you about his coworkers, specifically one named Lando who he seems to get into a lot of mischief with. He hasn’t said what he does for work. You field weird about asking, so you don’t.

The 4th time he stops by, you suggest a pothos. He eyed the leaves and vines skeptically.

“The other ones looked tough, you know? Like they’d survive even if I fucked up.” He tugs at one of the vines. “Are you sure about this one?”

You nod encouragingly. “You can handle it. I promise. Plus, the cool thing about these is you can cut parts of the vines, like this,” you say, holding up one you’d taken from the workstation. “And then you stick it in water for a bit, it grows roots, and you’ve got a whole new plant.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“I know,” you laugh.

He joins you up at the front to buy the plant. You go through the same routine. This time, he’s picked out a pretty blue ceramic pot for it. It compliments the leaves well. Then he leans on the counter and the two of you start chatting. You’d had a shipment that came in last week with a bunch of dead plants, so you regale him with the story of trying to deal with the company’s customer service. In turn, he tells you a story about his family back home- one of his sisters had a dance recital, his mother tried to videotape it for him, he received a video of his mother’s face as she watched the recital. You don’t realize how long the two of you have been talking until Jane, the next person on the schedule, walks in.

You stand up straight, face growing hot suddenly. “Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, hun,” she says, walking past the two of you. “Sorry I’m late. Bet you’re dying for your lunch break.”

She’s late? You and Oscar must’ve been talking for… forever. It had felt like only minutes. He smiles sheepishly and pushes away from the counter.

“Well, I should be going,” he says, taking the bag in his arms. “Thanks again!”

You watch him walk out the front door, unsure why it feels like you’ve been caught. It reminds you of the feeling you’d gotten years ago, when your teacher found you and the boy you had a crush on in the hallway alone. You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but it still makes you feel strange.

“Friend of yours?” Jane asks when you walk past her to take your break.

You blink, shrugging. “I think he might be.”

…..

Oscar always comes in on Tuesdays. You avoid taking Tuesdays off and won’t admit to yourself that he’s the reason why. But when you wake up with a raging fever and a pounding head, you know you have to call in. Jane, always a sweetheart, takes your shift. When you see her two days later, it’s after you’ve already done the opening shift.

“Did you see your plant?” She asks as she breezes through the greenhouse.

You shut off the hose you’d been using to water a particularly thirsty chrysanthemum. “What plant?”

“The one your friend brought,” she says, and you only feel more confused. “He dropped it off Tuesday, said he was looking for you. It’s on the desk.”

You walk over to the workstation. Sure enough, in a tiny plastic pot- likely one from one of the succulents he’d bought-there’s a small pothos vine growing. You pick up the little plant, knocking over the piece of paper propped up on it in the process. You reach for it, finding a note written in rushed, messy scrawl.

I know you’ve probably got tons, but it felt right that you would have my very first propagation. Learned that word from the internet. Feel better soon! -Oscar

You turn to look at Jane. She’s at the register, not paying you any attention. You cradle the tiny plant close to your chest and do the same with the note. Then you tuck the paper away for safekeeping.

The plant, however, you carry with you all day. You place it in a sunbeam at the front register. When it catches your eye every so often, you feel a warmth in your chest.

…..

The next time Oscar comes in, he eyes the little plant at the register. You’ve stuck a little stake in it and tied a bow on top. He smiles softly and turns back to the display of pots. He chooses a tiny one with checkerboard print, the same as his very first purchase. You ring him up for all his items, but when you go to put that one in the bag, he grabs it and shakes his head. He slides it towards your tiny vine.

“For your plant,” he says, smiling softly.

You break into a face splitting grin. “You’re too sweet.”

His fingers brush against yours when you take it from him. You swear you feel sparks. You wonder if the red cheeks he sports as he leaves the store means he felt it, too.

…..

Another man comes into the shop early in the morning. It’s a Wednesday this time. You know it won’t be Oscar because of that, but you still look up eagerly. The guy nods, waving politely. You smile and go back to your watering. He walks the aisles, looking at the plants and never picking them up.

“Excuse me?” He says, after you’ve put the hose away. You turn, trying to hide your surprise at his American accent. “Um. Could you tell me where the succulents are?”

You grin and nod, walking over towards the area. You point them out.

“These right here,” you say. “Anything I can help you with?”

He stares at the tiny plants. “I have no idea what I’m doing. My friend, he’s gotten really into plants, and he talks about this shop all the time. Figured I’d see what the hype was all about.”

You tilt your head. He’s probably not, but it almost sounds like he’s talking about Oscar. You try and shake the idea from your head. Oscar is just a customer, he’s not going around and telling his friends about the greenhouse he goes to. He’s definitely not telling them about you.

“Succulents are a good place to start,” you say.

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a green thumb. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.” You say with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

He ends up picking out a little succulent. He doesn’t go for a decorative pot. He seems wholly unconfident in his ability to keep it alive for more than a few days. Still, he smiles as he’s leaving. He pauses in the doorway.

“You know, I thought Oscar was exaggerating when he told me about you,” he says. “But I get it now.”

He’s out the door before you can even form a syllable, let alone a word or a sentence. You think about chasing after him and asking what the hell that even means, but you stay rooted there. Oscar talks about you. To his friends. You swear your heartbeat doesn’t slow all morning, and the heat in your cheeks stays there all day.

…..

Oscar comes rushing into the shop the next Tuesday. He has a brown paper bag in his arms, and his eyes are wide. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. You stand up, setting the garden hose down. He nearly slips on a puddle as he rushes over to you, and you reach out to steady him.

“I just got home last night,” he rushes, “and something’s wrong with- with Greg.”

“Greg?” You ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

“My succulent,” he says. His cheeks have gone red. “I name my plants. Is that weird?”

You laugh. “No, it’s not.”

You don’t tell him you’ve named your tiny pothos vine after him. You take the bag from his arms and walk to the back of the store, towards the work station. You reach in and pull out the succulent. It’s a little withered, a bit droopy. It’s also doubled in size since he bought it.

“I’ve been watering him when the soil gets dry,” he says, “and he’s still getting sunlight. I’ve tried everything- I left music playing for them when I left, so-“

Your eyes flicker up to him. He plays music for his plants. He’s the cutest man you’ve ever met. You want to take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. Or his lips. He has these cute little freckles and moles- you’d like to draw constellations between them. Your face feels hot again. You direct your attention back to the plant as he rambles on. You frown, tugging slightly to see the roots.

“Osc, babe,” you interrupt, and he stops and stares at you. “He’s just a little root bound.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve just called him babe. It’s too late now.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, the panicky tone still in his voice.

“It means,” you start, nudging his side softly with your elbow, “that you’ve taken such good care of him that he’s outgrown this pot. He needs more soil. More room to spread out.”

His shoulders drop. The panic melts off his face. “Oh.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t believe when you came in here the first time you had no idea what a succulent even was. And now here you are, all panicked over a little wilting. You’ve become a true plant nerd, haven’t you?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“It’s cute,” you tell him, just to watch the blush creep up on his cheeks again. “Come on, let’s get him a new pot and some fresh soil.”

You lead him up to the front. He starts to pick through the display, holding the succulent up to the different options until he finds the right one. It’s a light orange.

You nod in approval. “Now you’ve got an empty pot,” you say, pointing at the original pot for the succulent. “Which means if you want, you have an excuse to buy another plant.”

“You’re so smart,” he says, eyes wide.

He rushes over to the display of succulents. While he’s picking one out, you carefully re-pot the plant into its new home. He takes his time, like always, indecisive to the very end. When he makes it up to the counter, he grins widely at the sight of the plant in its new pot.

“Thanks,” he says, softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

…..

When Oscar comes into the shop on a particularly rainy Tuesday, you’re trying hastily to hide your tears. He doesn’t come in every week, but it’s just your luck that he’s here today of all days. You wave and turn your back to him, sticking to the workstation. You hear the soft fall of his tennis shoes, though, even over the sound of the rain against the greenhouse roof, and you know he’s making his way towards you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, voice low.

You turn and find him with his hands in his jeans pockets. You wipe at your cheeks hastily, hoping he can’t tell how upset you are, but knowing you look a wreck. Your hair is soaked in rainwater, and your eyes likely red rimmed and puffy. It’s confirmed when his soft smile drops into a frown.

“I’ve had a shit morning,” you tell him with a sigh.

He pulls one hand from his pocket. “You, uh. You have dirt on your cheek.”

You groan and try to brush it away. Oscar chews on his lower lip. Then he reaches out, his fingertips sweeping against the skin of your face. His hand is warm, despite the chill in the air. Tiny sparks seem to spread across your skin, following the trail of his touch. Your face grows hot.

“There,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

He nods. “What’s going on? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but…”

You sigh and turn away slightly, back to the plant in the pot in front of you. His gaze is so warm that you can’t stand to look at him, afraid you might start crying all over again.

“Just. Woke up late, so I was in a rush. And then I locked my car key in the car because I forgot something in the flat, and my mum has the spare key and she’s not even awake yet, so I had to walk here in the rain. And I couldn’t find my umbrella.” You brush a wet piece of hair away from your forehead. “And I slept like shit, and haven’t had any caffeine because I was late. So, yeah.”

“Shit morning,” Oscar agrees.

You nod. You finally turn to look at him again. There’s a soft look on his face, one you can’t quite place. He reaches out, places his hand flat on the counter next to yours. If you shifted your thumb just slightly, you could touch his. You want to, but you don’t.

“Sorry, I- Can I help you find anything?” You ask, blinking at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I asked,” he says. He rocks back on his heels and pulls his hand back. “I actually just remembered, I’m- I have to- I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and walks quickly to the front of the store. The bell dings as he walks out through the front door. You stare at the spot where his hand had been for just a moment and feel your heart shatter in your chest. You’d gone and over shared with your favorite customer, the one you thought might actually be your friend, and now you’ve scared him off. Yet another tally to add to the shit morning. You collapse into the chair behind the counter and rest your head in your hands, trying to will the tears away.

You’re not sure how long goes by before you hear the bell over the door again. And really, nobody comes in this early, so why are they choosing today of all days? You hastily wipe your face on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and stand up, plastering a smile onto your lips to greet whoever is in the store.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s… Oscar. He’s walking towards you, though he’s not looking at you. He has three takeout coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands. His hair matches yours now, soaking wet and hanging over his forehead. You burst into laughter as he sets them down.

“Oh my god, I thought I scared you off,” you say, brushing a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“No,” he says, eyes wide. “You said you needed caffeine. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”

You laugh and press your hands to the counter, leaning towards the cups. “Three cups?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I got you coffee, but I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar. So,” he points at the smallest of the three cups, “this is cream,” he says while digging in his pockets. Then he places an assortment of sugar packets on the counter. “And here’s sugar. The other cup is mine.”

You grin at him, shaking your head. “I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason.”

The smile he gives you in return is bright enough to make up for the lack of sun, to wash away the rain clouds, to warm your cold hands. You open the lid to the coffee and pour a bit of cream in, and then add two sugars. Oscar watches, nodding.

“I’ll know for next time,” he says.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Next time. You like the sound of that. You wrap your hands around the paper cup and let the warmth seep into your fingers before you take a sip. You sigh happily, meeting his eyes over the lid. The cup in his hand has something written on it in messy pen. You wonder if the barista tried to give him their number, and you fight back the jealous feeling at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

“It’s no biggie,” he insists. “I owed you anyway, for saving Greg.”

He hangs out for a while that morning, leaning on your counter and chatting. You re-pot some plants and then bring them out to the displays, and he follows along. There’s something about his presence alone that warms you up from the inside out. By the time he looks at his watch and curses, muttering about having a meeting, you’re feeling much better. His hand brushes your shoulder before he leaves. You call after him to thank him again for the coffee.

He stops in the doorway, rain falling on his arm that’s extended to hold the door open. “I’ll see you soon!”

Then he disappears into the storm.

…..

You don’t see him soon. It’s not abnormal for Oscar to go a couple weeks without stopping in, so at first you don’t think much of it. Each Tuesday, though, you look up eagerly when the bell over the door rings, and your heart sinks when it’s not him. Maybe you really did over share, maybe he did get scared off. You try not to think about it.

It’s just… he was cute, and kind, and fun to talk to. He brought you coffee. You wonder how his plants are doing, if he’s still playing music for them while he’s gone. You have fleeting images in your brain of him watering the plants, taking the time to look for new leaves and check the roots. You almost wish he’d have another plant emergency, just to give him a reason to stop back in.

Eventually, after a month goes by and he hasn’t been back, you give up almost entirely. You’ll move on eventually, find a new favorite customer. You couldn’t have expected him to keep coming around forever, after all. To him, you were just another retail worker.

You do end up seeing his American friend one more time. He comes in on a Wednesday morning, just like before. He doesn’t stop and look at any of the plants, instead beelining for you. You’re working on bagging some potting soil and watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I just-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I super killed that succulent.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re Oscar’s friend, right? He didn’t help you?”

The guy shakes his head. “He made fun of me, though. Said I overwatered it.”

“How is he, anyways?” You ask.

Logan frowns. “He’s good.”

You nod. “Well, d’you want to try again?”

“No, that’s not why I-“ he sighs, rubbing his temples. “He won’t shut up about you, you know.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Find that hard to believe, since he hasn’t been here for almost a month.”

Which is maybe a little mean spirited. And probably not something you should be saying to his friend. You wince.

Now it’s his turn to blink wildly. “So you miss him too?”

You squint at him. “Why are we having this conversation? I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Logan,” he says. “You haven’t like… reached out to him or anything?”

“How would I?” You ask. “I don’t even know his last name, let alone his phone number.”

“His last name’s Piastri.”

“That feels like information you shouldn’t be giving away to strangers.”

He’s not listening, though. Something seems to have clicked in his head. His eyes go wide and he starts to back away.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thanks!”

You’ve had a lot of strange interactions while working retail, but that one comes in pretty high on the list. And it leaves you wondering about Oscar, which is something you’re trying desperately not to do. All in all, not a great day.

…..

Two weeks later, you clock out of your Tuesday shift around lunchtime and head down the street. It’s raining again, but at least this time you’re armed with a raincoat and an umbrella. Your car is parked nearby, but you’re in the mood for coffee and warm food, so you head to the cafe nearby. You try not to think about the time Oscar had brought you coffee from there. You can’t help picturing his soft smile, eyes trained on the cups balanced precariously in his hands.

You make it halfway to the cafe before a gust of wind hits your umbrella at just the right angle and snaps the metal supports. Then, as if the universe is playing a cruel trick on you, a car speeds by on the road next to you, hits a puddle, and sprays you with muddy water. It soaks through your clothes and onto your skin nearly immediately. You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists and yell dramatically at the sky.

“Shit,” someone says, and the sound of his voice makes your breath catch in your chest. Then he says your name.

You turn, coming face to face with Oscar. Well. Okay. He’s studying you with a pained look on his face and standing under an umbrella.

“Yeah, shit,” you mutter, shaking water from your hands. “Oh my God. Hi, by the way. It’s been a bit.”

“It has,” he agrees, shuffling closer to hold the umbrella over you. “Here. Um. You okay?”

You shrug. “S’just water. I won’t melt.”

Oscar laughs- god, you’ve missed that sound- and nudges your shoulder. “You’ve got bad luck with rainstorms, huh?”

You nod. You’re trying not to freak out at the fact that he’s here. Oscar is standing next to you, holding his umbrella over your head. He’s here and he’s talking to you and he’s feeling sympathetic, which maybe means he doesn’t think you’re completely crazy.

“S’what I get for trying to go get coffee,” you say over the sound of raindrops on the umbrella. “And lunch. Now I’ve got to drive home like this.”

Oscar frowns, his whole face crumpling with it. “Hey, you know… I live just a block down. If you want, you could come and change into some dry clothes.”

Your mother would kill you for even considering it. You can practically hear her yelling in your head. But god, it’s Oscar. It’s Oscar and you haven’t seen him in a month and you might never see him again. There’s something about the soft look on his face that makes you trust him.

“Okay,” you say, quietly. “That would be… really nice. But only if you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he says.

Your shoulders brush as you walk, the umbrella over both of your heads. The two of you are nearly silent on the walk there. It’s like neither of you quite know what to say. You know you don’t. You worry he’s regretting inviting you to his place. But he lets you in the front door, leads you to the elevator, and all the way up to flat. When he opens the door, warm air pours over you like a river. You step in and toe off your boots, wincing at the squish of your wet socks.

Oscar winces, too. “Here, the bathroom’s right there,” he says, pointing at a partially open door. “I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. There’s towels in there too.”

You nod and step into the room. So far, the little bit of his apartment that you’ve seen matches up with what he’s told you. There are no shoes sitting out in the entryway. The bathroom is nearly spotless, which makes you feel a bit guilty about the dirty rainwater you’re dripping onto the floor. Oscar’s only gone long enough for you to take off your jacket.

He knocks on the door. “I’ve got clothes for you.”

You open the door, and he’s standing there, eyes squeezed shut. The clothes are held out in midair, like he’s trying to keep his distance. You laugh and take them, murmuring out a thanks. As you go to change, you hear him walk away.

You shuck your wet clothes off and drop them in the tub, shivering when the air hits your bare skin. You wipe the rainwater from your skin. Then you pull on the clothes he gave you- a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Plus a pair of thick, warm looking socks. All of them are baggy on you, but luckily the pants have a drawstring so you can pull them tight around your hips. You wring the water out of your hair with the towel and then wrap it around your shoulders before you step out into the hallway.

You can hear him moving around in the next room, so you head there. He’s standing at the kitchen island, which is open to the living room. He looks up when he hears you walk in, and a soft smile spreads across his face. His living room is neat and tidy, too. His plants are all lined up on the windowsill. You recognize them all from your store, and you smile.

“D’you have a plastic bag I can put my clothes in?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you. “I don’t wanna get more rainwater on your floor. Or in my car, really.”

“I mean, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Or… you could throw them in the washer. Hang out for a bit.”

He’s not looking at you anymore. You’re glad, because you’re sure you have a dumbfounded look on your face. It’s then that you notice the coffee machine running on the counter behind him, and the snacks out on the counter. Your mind is racing. He hasn’t stopped by the shop in nearly a month, but now…

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you say, unsure what else there is to possibly say.

He shakes his head, still not looking up. “You’re not.”

You cast your eyes to the window. It’s raining harder now. And god, you’ve missed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing here.

“It’s been a while,” he says, turning his back to you when the coffee maker beeps. “We have some catching up to do.”

You think about letting it go. Maybe it’s enough to be here. Maybe you just shouldn’t bring it up. But really, you’re confused about the fact that he stopped coming to the store.

You tilt your head at him. “Yeah, you stopped coming in.”

“Well, you never texted me,” he says. “So I figured I’d freaked you out or something. But then Logan said he stopped by and you asked about me-“

You stare at the back of his head, bewildered, and you break in. “Oscar, I don’t have your number.”

He freezes, hand in midair, reaching for a coffee mug. He turns his head over his shoulder, and his eyes meet your again. He looks just as confused as you feel. Suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

“I wrote it on the coffee cup,” he says, voice quiet.

You stare at him, wide eyed. “There was nothing on my coffee cup.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “I’m sure of it. But there was writing on yours. I know because I wondered if the barista was trying to give you her number.”

Oscar just stares at you for a moment, his lips barely parted. “Shit. I gave you the wrong cup.”

Shit, you repeat in your head. He tried to give you his number. He thought he gave you his number, and then you never texted him. He thought you rejected him. No wonder he stopped coming in.

“You could’ve just asked me for my number, you know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but this was cuter,” he says. “It was- it was my number and this cheesy ass pickup line that Logan helped me think of and I- I really thought you just didn’t…”

“Pickup line?”

“Looking back it sounds stupid,” he admits. “But yeah. I was trying to ask you out on a date. And so when you didn’t text me…”

You cross the room, walking right up in front of him. His hands have fallen to his sides. His eyes trace your face as you smile up at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, brows slightly furrowed. You can smell the coffee now- it reminds you of when he brought you the coffee weeks ago.

“You should ask me now,” you tell him, smiling brightly.

He nods. “Without the pickup line, though.”

You pout up at him. He grins. One of his hands comes up to the side of your face, fingers cupping your jaw. His thumb prods at your cheek.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks, voice low.

You pretend to think about it. Pretend it doesn’t make your heart melt just to hear him say it. “Hm. When?”

He shrugs, looks around. “How about now?”

“It’s raining,” you remind him.

“We can have a stay at home date,” he suggests. “Coffee, lunch, a movie, maybe.”

You tilt your head. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” He says, sounding a bit like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since the day we met.”

Oscar laughs and leans closer. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, then.”

He presses his lips to yours, and your eyes slip closed. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear- it’s still wet from the rain, and both of you giggle into the kiss. His hands drop to your hips, shoving the sweatshirt out of the way to hold onto you. You could kiss him for hours, you think. It’s all you’ve wanted for months now.

The coffee is growing cold on the counter. Suddenly, though, you don’t need caffeine.

He pulls away slightly, looks you up and down. “You look cute in my clothes, you know.”

You giggle and tug on the sweatshirt, pointing at the orange logo on the chest. “Thanks. Big McLaren guy, are you?”

Oscar laughs and brushes his lips against your temple. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Then he goes back to kissing you. You’re not complaining. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn all about him.

…..

Weeks later, you corner Logan at the British Grand Prix. Oscar’s distracted by interviews, but Logan’s not busy.

“What was the pickup line he wrote?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest.

Surprisingly, he needs very little convincing. He just laughs, eyes darting to where Oscar stands behind you in the media pen. His gaze is full of amusement.

“I be-leaf we’re meant to be,” he says in a teasing tone. “He was down bad.”

You laugh and turn over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend. He’s grinning watching the two of you talk. Later, you tease him for the cheesy line, for hiding behind coffee cups and scribbled pen when he could’ve just told you. He teases you for the same, for not telling him how you felt, for not making a move. And then you look at him, knowing your gaze is terribly soft.

“I believe it, too,” you tell him.

When he kisses you, you draw constellations between the freckles on his face with your thumb. Outside, it starts to rain.

a/n: can you tell I am a big plant nerd? anyways live laugh love oscar piastri I want to help him pick out plants :)

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #honeywrites #op81 #if you’ve made it this far in the tags somehow hi

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moonstruckme · 7 days

Note

He would never take those bracelets off 😭 now I kinda want a fic of counselor James and counselor reader how cute

Hi, I've lowkey been hoarding this for months because I wanted to wait until I felt summery enough, thank you for requesting!!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Land ho, boys!” A familiar voice reaches you over the water. Your eyes are closed towards the sun, but you feel your lips twitch upward. “Thomas, if you don’t help Callum paddle you’ll fall behind, and the last one to shore has to buy me a popsicle after dinner. Hey, look, we’ve got a mermaid on our beach!”

You turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to see James and his cabin of boys paddling toward you in kayaks over the lake. You lift your hand in a lazy wave.

“Oh, false alarm, it’s just y/n. Hi, y/n!” He raises an arm to wave back at you, wrist stacked with string bracelets made with care by small hands. You swear he’s got more from your own cabin than you have, but you don’t mind; James is a hero to most of the kids at camp, the goofy gentle giant who lets them ride on his shoulders when your manager isn’t looking and deals temporary tattoos out of his cabin during mealtimes. “Careful, Archie, mate, if she catches you rocking your kayak like that she’s going to hang you from the lifeguard stand by your toes.” The boys laugh, and James protests, “No, really! I’ve seen her do it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You roll your eyes and close them again, turning your face back towards the sky. It’s not until you hear the shushing of kayaks against the coarse sand and a shadow falls over you that you say, without opening your eyes, “Spreading rumors about me again?”

“They know better than to take me seriously.” James’ shadow moves as he sits beside you on the sand, and you turn your head again to see him. He’s looking over his shoulder at the boys, the lean muscles of his abdomen stretching and dusky skin shining with sweat in the afternoon sun. “Hey, whoever puts my kayak and paddle up, I’ll buy them a popsicle after dinner.” Shouts and bickering ensue, and James turns back around with a smile. “Where are your kids?” he asks you.

“In arts and crafts,” you say. “Figured I’d catch a nap while they were busy.”

He hums, setting his hands on the warm sand behind him and leaning back. “So, you didn’t just come here to see how fit I looked dragging a paddle through the water?”

You know James is only playing, but embarrassment tingles down to your toes anyway. “Not this time, sorry.”

“Mm, don’t believe you.” He shoots you a grin, and you look away under the guide of rolling your eyes. That thing is more glaring than the sun. “You coming to the bonfire tonight?”

“Don’t we have to?” you ask. It’s the last night of this session, and camp always closes out with a bonfire and s’mores for the kids.

“I mean the other bonfire.” At your blank look, James continues, looking rather too pleased to know something you don’t, “After the kid’s bonfire, when they’re all watching a movie in the cafeteria, some of the counselors are planning to go out into the woods and have a grown-up’s bonfire.”

You giggle. “Grown-ups? What are we, twelve?”

James bobs his head. “And we’re gonna have s’mores, and tell ghost stories, and maybe play truth or dare,” he says in an exaggeratedly animated tone. “It’s gonna be super cool.”

“It sounds super cool,” you agree, laughing. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent.” James casts a look over his shoulder and starts standing up. “I should get back to my kids before they injure each other.”

You check the time and sigh. “Yeah, me too.”

“Want a hand?”

You reach up and James takes your hands in his, hauling you upright. Your head lightens once you’re vertical, a combination of your sun-warmed skin and James’ touch making you woozy.

“See you later?” he asks, releasing your hands and starting to back away as the shouting behind him grows more boisterous. “I’ll come find you in the cafeteria, we can walk together.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” You start walking away, too, ignoring the pleasant buzzing in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

Text

Lando Norris (McLaren) - All Over Again

Requested: yes

Prompts: 5) "If I could, I'd like to fall in love with you all over again."

48) "I love our cuddles."

49) "Stay here tonight."

Warnings: none tbh

Lando couldn't believe he was back in England, the familiar sights and sounds bringing a rush of nostalgia. He had done what he always did; gone for his morning run, ordered a hot chocolate to take away, and head on home to have his pre-made breakfast. As he strolled through the town, he couldn't help but wonder what had changed since he left for his racing career. Little did he know, he was about to encounter a significant blast from the past. He figured he may as well have a proper look around this time and so, he made his way up a side street, looking around and even spotting a few new shops.

Walking up a small street, off from his usual route, Lando's eyes widened as he spotted Y/n, the girl he had once been deeply in love with and even dated whilst he was in Formula 2. They broke up in 2020 since they both just didn't have the time and promised that if the opportunity every rose again, they would revisit it. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and then, recognizing him, Y/n's eyes lit up with surprise and joy. "Lando? Is that really you?" She exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and excitement in her voice. He grinned. "Yeah, it's me! How have you been?" Lando asked as the pair embraced one another. "I'm good. Still on the hot chocolate or have you made the move to coffee?" She asked, pointing at the cup in Lando's hand. "I've never liked coffee and I never will. How's uni going?"

"I just finished up last year. I'm kinda just working for now until I have enough to move away." She replied. "Move away? What would make you want to do that?" Lando asked. "Well you tell me. Last I heard of you was you moved to Monaco. Very fancy." She joked. They exchanged stories, catching up on the years that had passed since they last saw each other. Laughter echoed through the air as they reminisced about old memories and shared new experiences. It was as if time hadn't dimmed the connection they once had.

Lando, felt some serious nostalgia. "I'm going to have to head now. I have some things to do. But good luck and it was lovely seeing you again." Y/n smiled. "Yeah, we should get coffee or something sometime." He replied and watched as Y/n walked past him. As she walked away, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was the time to revisit their relationship, and so, he turned and jogged back towards her to give a suggestion. "Hey, why don't you come over to my place? We can continue our conversation there." Y/n shook her head. "I have a few things to drop of to my mum's. I really can't."

"I'll come with you. I haven't seen her jn ages anyway." Y/n thought for a moment. Her mum would make such a fuss over Lando being back. She always brought Lando up, even to Y/n's last boyfriend. That conversation about Lando led to their break-up and since then she's always shrugged off any Lando conversations. "Okay fine." She said as Lando began to walk with her. "Do you want me to take something? Your hands seem full." Y/n nodded. "Please take the shopping bag. Its killing me here." Labdo laughed as he effortlessly lifted the back and hoisted it up over his shoulder. "Alright. Don't be such a show off."

Their break-up hadn't left a bitter taste, and they remained friends. The sun was shining, adding a warm glow to their amiable conversation. As they approached Y/n's mum's house, memories flooded back. Lando couldn't help but notice the nostalgia in Y/n's eyes. The door swung open before they even had a chance to knock, revealing Y/n's mum, who beamed at the sight of them. "Lando! Oh, it's been too long!" She exclaimed, enveloping Lando both in a tight hug. "Nice to see you too, Mum." Y/n mumbled as Lando grinned. "Come inside, I've just brewed some tea."

Once inside, the cozy aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Y/n's mum ushered them to the living room, where memories of shared laughter echoed. They settled in, sipping tea and catching up on life. Y/n's mum couldn't help but glance between them, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And that crash in Germany last year. Dreadful." Her mum said. "It was Belgium, Mum." Y/n corrected. Labdo turned and smirked at her. "Thought you didn't keep up with F1." The last time he saw her, she didn't really. She only really watched it when she was with Lando. "I can watch it if I want." She replied, sipping her tea. "Oh, you two always made such a lovely couple. Any chance you're getting back together?" She inquired with a mischievous grin.

Y/n spat her tea into the cup, as Lando gave an amused glance towards Y/n. "No, we're just good friends now." Y/n explained with a smile. "Well, that's good to hear. I always hoped maybe one day you'll find your way back to each other." Her mum said. Lando's lips twitched into a playful grin. "You never know. We could probably..." Y/n interrupted, taking it as a cue to change the subject. "Well, Mum, we've got a few more errands to run. Thanks for the tea!" They bid Y/n's mum farewell, stepping back into the sunlight. "Smooth, Lando." Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes at Lando's comment. "What?" Lando asked as if he didn't know what he had just done. "You always know how to keep things interesting," Y/n teased. Lando chuckled. "Hey, just keeping the possibilities open, you know?" Y/n shook her head, laughter bubbling up from deep within. "You haven't changed a bit."

Lando led the way to his new home. It was huge. Bigger than the one he grew up in and Y/n found that mental. "This is yours? Are you sure?" She asked. "Trust me, it's mine." He replied, opening the door. "There's a few boxes around the place. This is all just moving stuff. Don't mind them."

The aroma of spices and sizzling ingredients filled Lando Norris' kitchen as he worked diligently to prepare dinner for his good friend, Y/n. He hummed along to a tune playing softly in the background, feeling a sense of accomplishment in trying his hand at a new recipe.

Y/n walked around, a glass of wine in hand, looking at the photos that hung on the walls. From family photos to podium photos, she enjoyed looking at them. One in particular caught her eye. It was her at Lando's final Formula 2 race. They were all smiles and she couldn't help but feel the memories washing over her.

Just as Lando reached for a pot handle, a sudden hiss of pain escaped him. Lando winced, realizing he had touched the hot surface without protection. He quickly pulled back, shaking his hand in an attempt to soothe the sting. "Fuck." Lando muttered to himself, glancing around for a nearby kitchen towel. Y/n entered the room, drawn by the sound of his exclamation. "What happened, Lando?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. Lando winced, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, just a little mishap. I guess cooking isn't exactly my forte."

Y/n chuckled softly, gently taking his arm to examine the burn. "Let me take care of that for you." As Y/n tended to his burn, Lando couldn't help but admire her delicate touch and caring nature. His gaze lingered on her, filled with a warmth he couldn't contain. "Don't look at me like that." Y/n said softly, catching Lando's gaze. Lando smirked teasingly. "Like what?" Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "You know exactly what I mean." He shrugged. "Have no idea what you mean." Rolling her eyes again, Y/n suggested, "How about I do the cooking, and you just help grab things when I need them?" Lando nodded.

As Y/n stired some pasta around in the pot, she jumped upon hearing music. "Oh, sorry. Too loud." Labdo mumbled as he turned the volume down on a speaker nearby. "Why are you playing Put Your Records On?" She asked. "I like it. You like it too last time I checked." Lando said, beginning to dance a bit. "Last time you checked was four years ago." Y/n replied. "Oh come on, you haven't changed that much." Lando chuckled. "You wanna bet?" She challenged.

Lando nodded, moving her hair across her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss onto her neck. "You like neck kisses, don't you?" Y/n found herself blushing and biting her lip to hide her smile. Lando's arms made their way around Y/n's torso, his chin resting on her shoulder. "You're playing a dangerous game, Lando." She said. "I know." Y/n set the cooking spoon to the side and gave in, turning and lifting her arms up around Lando's neck, swaying along with him. Soon enough, they were dancing, spinning and jumping around, carefree and happy. "Oh shit! The pasta!"

As they settled on the couch to watch a movie, Lando wrapped an arm around Y/n, feeling the warmth of their shared history. The prompts echoed in his mind, and he couldn't resist expressing his emotions. "I love our cuddles." He admitted, a genuine smile on his face. Y/n snuggled closer. "Me too. It feels like we never missed a beat." Lando looked up to her, the look of a lovestruck puppy in his eyes. "Stay here tonight." He asked. "Lando, I have work tomorrow." She replied. "You're acting like something is going to happen." Lando said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh shut up." The pair began laughing. As the laughing quietened down, they found themselves leaning in, centimetres away from eachother.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as Lando looked between her eyes and then down to her lip. "Alright, but only if you promise to make breakfast tomorrow, and I get to teach you how to cook properly." Lando grinned. "Deal." And with that, he leaned in and closed the gap between them, Y/n kissing back into his lips.

The movie faded into the background as they continued their kiss, both missing the feeling of the others lips on theirs. "If I could, I'd like to fall in love with you all over again." Lando whispered between kisses. He could feel Y/n smile against him. "Maybe we can take it one step at a time, starting with breakfast tomorrow morning." Lando shook his head, lifting her up off the couch and walking towards the door. "Or we could start now and just start where we left off."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

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glitchfiles · 8 months

Text

heatstroke. [ljn]

pairing. mechanic! jeno x (afab) reader

wc. 3.8k+

cw. SMUT MINORS DNI!!, hard dom! jeno, profanity/cursing, outdoor/car sex, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, boot grinding, rough sex, degradation, name-calling (’slut’, ‘fucktoy’), etc…

an. i had this idea in june, but haven't had much time to write until recently. i had to rush a bit because i wanted to get it out before august/summer ends, I just made it lol. if there’s typos… oops… hope you enjoy :3

just before the muggy summer air lulls you to sleep, a series of sharp knocks at your windows jolts you fully conscious. as your eyes snap wide open, you turn to look to see a man standing outside of your car. he can tell by the bemused expression on your face you're struggling to figure out why he's here.

"roadside assistance, you called." realisation washes over your features, and the mystery man can't help but find it amusing how little control you have over your countenance.

you open the door slowly, allowing him time to move back, and groggily step out of the car. rays of sun prick your skin - the floral mini dress you had on left more of you exposed than covered.

"thanks for coming," you laugh nervously.

the sun is blinding, you can just make out the figure before you as you give your knight in shining armour a squinted once over.

his uniform consists of navy overalls and heavy boots; though he had taken the top half of his overalls off and tied the sleeves around his waist, you're sure he's sweltering. the white tank top he wore hugs his broad, muscular torso, which you can't help but ogle at.

"no problem. any idea what the issue is?" as he nears your car, you get a better look at his face. and just as you feared, he has a face to match the body.

his features are sharp, from his jaw to the upturned corners of his mouth to his nose. in contrast, the way his eyes soften up as he smiles at you fills your stomach with butterflies.

you catch yourself then clear your throat before responding. "no, it just broke down. i'm lucky i pulled over in time."

if you were trying to hide that you were checking him out, you were doing the worst job ever.

unabashed stares were far from foreign to him, he couldn’t say he minded them - especially when they were from someone cute.

he takes a quick walk around the vehicle, checking for any external damage. "tyres look fine," he mumbles to himself.

then he stops at the hood to pop it open. a frown settles upon his features as he begins to try to diagnose the issue at hand.

you don't even try to understand what he's doing, you're honestly far more concerned with analysing every square inch of the adonis before you.

"you okay standing out here? it's pretty hot," he turns to you. you had lost track of time, has it been a few minutes or a few hours? "you can sit in my truck, it has ac, or i can get you some water."

"just the water is fine!" you respond, even though cold air sounded like paradise right now actually, "i've always been somewhat interested in cars and stuff." you lied again.

"oh, really?" he raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"yeah, my dad used to fix old cars up - he'd make me hand him tools from time to time." you walked closer to him, leaving a few centimetres between your bodies.

"then, you wouldn't mind helping me out a bit? i think i know what the issue is here." you nodded vehemently, unable to stop yourself from forming an eager smile.

only when he walks away do you realise you have been holding your breath. you barely have time to catch it before he's back with two chilled water bottles in one hand and a hefty toolbox in the other. bulging muscles ripple across his arms, the sight puts a fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach.

he sets the box down with a light grunt, then looks at you kindly and with an outstretched arm to hand you a cool bottle. the fact his hand, which you notice is comparatively larger and rougher, brushes against yours only exacerbates your condition.

you can barely look him in the eye as you take the bottle from him; you waste no time before cracking it open and gulping down a considerable amount. his eyes can’t help but follow the droplets of water that escape the corner of your mouth, trickling down your chin, your neck and then your chest before disappearing between your cleavage (which he had been trying to ignore from the moment you stepped out of your car).

“someone’s thirsty,” he mentally slaps himself and comments with a chuckle to ease the moment of tension.

he takes a swig of water before putting on gloves, picking a took out of the box and getting to work.

for a moment, only the sound of distant wildlife in the surrounding area can be heard. leaving you ample time to watch. the way his brows furrow as he concentrates on his job is more attractive than it should be.

“my name is jeno by the way,” he breaks the silence. you hadn’t even thought to ask, you quickly reply with your name. “where are you heading?”

“my friend’s place for a barbecue. this was supposed to be a shortcut, but it ended up leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere.” he lets out a sympathetic hum before letting a comfortable silence fall between the two of you again.

he hands whatever tool he has in his hand to you and asks, “can you pass me the torque wrench?”

you stare at him blankly then you stare down at the array of tools laid out. the temperature of your body increases even further as he smiles at you knowingly.

“hard to think with the heat, huh?” he chuckles walking past you to pick up the tool you would have never guessed was what he was asking for. “don’t worry about it, you can just stand and watch,” he said as though that wasn’t what you had been doing up until now anyway.

he’s sure you’re not actually interested in cars in the slightest but rattles on about the topic. most of it all flies over your head but you nod and giggle as your gaze trails over the veins on his arms are he tightens bolts.

after a short while, he stands up straight. wiping his forearm over his sweaty forehead he declares he thinks he’s done.

“key?” he plucks off his gloves as you fish it out of your purse and hand it over to him. “glad you know that one.” he teases.

you watch with bated breath as he gets into your car to start it; sure enough, the engine purrs when he turns the key.

he jumps out of the car and flashes you a proud smile that makes you melt more than the heat.

"so...” he starts tucking his gloves into his pocket then he rubs his hands together before placing them on his hips. "how would you like to pay?"

"oh yeah, let me just get my purse. how much was it?." you open your bag to rummage around for your wallet as he tells you the price.

your phone…

sunglasses…

a pack of gum…

lip gloss…

no wallet.

you smile up at him nervously, excusing yourself to go look in your glove compartment.

jeno follows you around to see you bent over and rummaging around. he loses track of time, too preoccupied with the way your dress rides up to barely cover your ass. he didn't notice how translucent the fabric was until now, he could just make out the outline of the thong you were wearing.

while he blissfully enjoys the show, dread fills you at the realisation you may not be able to pay. you desperately look for stray bits of cash, but you can’t seem to find even a penny in your car all of a sudden.

your frantic search yields absolutely nothing. you take a second to steel yourself before stepping back onto the ground and turning towards him with a doe-eyed guilty expression that makes something stir in his abdomen.

"i swear i had it but-" you mutter, finally moving to sit facing him in the passenger’s seat. he suddenly feels a lot bigger now you're staring up at him and he's looking down at you. "but it's not- i don't have any money so-"

"well, there are other ways to pay." only when the words leave his mouth does jeno realise there is room for misinterpretation but, for some reason, he doesn't feel like correcting himself.

maybe it was the warmth or the stress of your predicament, but your mind began to entertain itself with thoughts that had nothing to do with getting this man that you had only met today his money.

you blinked dumbly, absolutely none of the cogs turning in your brain as you started eyeing him again. starting at the neckline of his tank and then fixating on his deep collarbones momentarily before drifting down.

sweat had turned the white cotton covering his torso almost transparent. the material clung to the ridges of his toned chest and abs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

your mouth went dry; you were eyeing him like a dehydrated desert wanderer who had just spotted an oasis.

“like… how?” you blink up at him as though you don’t catch his drift. the innocence you feign starts to chip away at his self-control.

though he comes off as rather relaxed on the outside, jeno is rather rigid with himself. he had to be to run a business with any success. but at the end of the day, he was his own boss; no one had to know about this.

he glanced around. you were on a road in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woodland and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen another car drive past.

he could bend his rules this once for you.

“you’re not just a pretty face, you’re a smart girl, right?” finally, he gives into the desire that had been building inside of him since the moment he laid eyes on you. his charming eye-smile turns into a dark glare; his voice drops a couple octaves. “use your head.”

without another word, you stand up and sink down to squat, reluctant to get your knees dirty. you stare up awaiting further instruction.

“you know transfers are a thing, right?” he laughs sliding a hand over your cheek, feeling a switch inside of him flip. here you were debasing yourself for a man you had just met. “i think i like this much better though, clever girl.”

he can’t believe you’re doing this.

he can’t believe he’s doing this.

you untie his overalls letting them drop down to his knees and tug down his boxers. internally you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a well-groomed semi-hard cock. feeling it twitch up to attention as you wrap a hand around it. he groans out an obscenity as you begin to tentatively stoke him.

“you’re gonna need to do a lot more than that if you plan on giving me my money’s worth.” he tuts down at you, sliding his hand to rest on the back of your head.

“whatever you want.” the seductive lilt of your voice makes him reel.

“whatever?” his chest rises as he takes a deep breath and forms a light grip on your locks.

“anything.” you nod.

“then open your fucking mouth, slut.” his voice suddenly becomes gravelly and commanding as he cranes your head back. you obediently open up for him, wrapping your lips around his tip to lap at the salty fluid that had started to spill out of it.

“hands behind your back,” the look in his eyes is wild as he watches you promptly obey him without reluctance. you want to please him, repay him for his kindness.

you take the initiative to take him even deeper, creeping down inch by inch deeper with each bob; the more you take, the more drool escapes the corners of your mouth, dripping down in thick strings. you let out garbled moans, sending vibrations through him; his hand instinctively grips your locks, pushing his cock harshly into the back of your throat. you swallow a gag and tears prick your eyes but keep going.

“you’re so good,” he huffs, abdomen tightening, “you do this often? bet you’d let any man shove their cock down your throat, cheap fucking slut.”

you whine around him in protest, he lets you up to speak. you vehemently shake your head and choke out, “only you.“

“just for me.” his thumb softly endearingly caresses the back of your head. “god, what did i do to get this lucky.” he half mutters to himself before shoving himself back into your accepting mouth.

he continues to fuck into your face like you’re nothing but a hole and you take it. his head tips back as he lets out unbridled moans, comforted by the fact there was no one for miles to witness your debauchery, but infinitely turned on by the fact you were so out in the open.

jeno's breathing gets more ragged with each thrust, he hunches forward at the feeling of his orgasm hurtling towards him. if your mouth wasn't currently stuffed, you would smile as you brought a hand up to toy with his saliva-coated balls.

"oh my fucking- i'm cumming." it was the last push he needed before shooting his load down your throat. keeping you locked in place, nose smushed up against his pubic bone. all strength leaves your legs and you fall to your knees, the hard ground digs into your skin but the pain means nothing when he’s groaning about how well you’re taking his cum. you can barely breathe and your head is spinning but you wish you could make him cum again already.

after a while, he settles down from his high and slowly removes himself. his hand grips firmly at your hair, keeping you in place.

“what a fucking mess.” he sneers while admiring his work, how filthy you look kneeling before him. spit and cum cover your chin down to your chest; the low neckline of your dress is soaked. not to mention your makeup, black inky streaks ran down your cheeks. “liked taking my cock so much you forgot you had something to look pretty for.”

the look in your eyes was close to piety, unfazed that there was no way you could go to your friend’s house in this state. maybe he’d fucked your face a little too hard and knocked some sense out of you. it was the only explanation for you so gleefully offering yourself to every whim of a stranger; jeno was not a good enough man to refuse such an offer.

“want more? you know, most of my customers tip.” he says in an expectant tone. “no pressure though.”

“wanna fuck me?” you run a finger up his thigh, skipping being coy - you needed him.

“i don’t know, can i?” he wants to toy with you, however.

“i said you can do anything, didn’t i?” you shuffle closer to him on your knees, batting your eyelashes up at him.

“anything…” he repeats, dark thoughts run through his mind. a deep, shaky breath leaves jeno’s nostrils as he tries to contain the arousal stirring back up inside of him. he moves his leg forward, situating one of his heavy work boots between your legs; with the grasp he still has on you, he forces your core to come down against it.

he doesn’t have to utter another word before your hips start moving. you bite your lip to contain the sounds threatening to escape you, shame finally kicking in somewhat. but he was having none of that; a sharp tug at your hair was all it took, he tipped your head back, and all the moans came spilling out.

“good.” his praise encourages you to circle your hips faster. the panties you have on do nothing to hide how slick you are.

you angle your hips for more stimulation, your swollen clit growing more sensitive by the second. you haven’t been at this for that long, but he can tell by the way your moans pick in pitch you’re nearly there.

“close already?” he lifts the toe of his boot, pressing into you harder. “go ahead, cum on my boot. dirty, pathetic slut.” you whimper out pitifully as your orgasm finally wreaks you.

he leaves you no time to recuperate before tugging your locks to make you stand and smashing his lips against yours. only now does it hit you that you’ve skipped quite a few bases, it’s the first time you’ve felt his lips against your own.

you melt into his domineering kiss, trying your best to keep up with his lascivious pace. hands grope at your body, smoothing up your thighs and under your dress.

a whine leaves your lips when his hands roughly squeeze your ass. he wastes no time attaching his lips to your neck, nipping at the skin as he moves to start pulling your panties off, you help him get them off the rest of the way and throw them somewhere into your car.

deft fingers wander between your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingertips. the slightest brush against your raw clit makes you shudder in his grasp.

“gonna use this wet little pussy, just like i did your throat.” he whispered hotly against the skin of your neck, teasing your miserably sopping slit. “and you’re gonna take it like the good fucktoy you are.”

now’s the point he’d finger a girl open a bit, maybe make her cum again. he’s usually kinder, more careful, less selfish; all that runs through his mind are animalistic thoughts of ruining you.

you see the moment his resolve snaps completely, pupils dilating as a vein pops up on his temple. with no finesse at all, you’re turned around; a hand plants itself on your back, firmly pushing your torso down, you barely cushion your fall onto the car seat.

he almost goes right in before the last fragment of sense left inside of him reminds him he’s forgotten something crucial.

“shit, i don’t have a condom.” he slaps a hand over his face, vexed over the possibility of things ending here.

“i think i might,” you hurriedly reach into the glove compartment. not taking long to produce a foil packet and hand it to him; you turn to see he has an amused expression on his face.

“you remembered condoms but not money?” he snickers. “priorities.”

you lower your head in embarrassment, begging him to get on with it. he obliges, quickly ripping open the packet and wrapping his cock up. with a deep hum, he slides his cock up between your ass cheeks. your back arches to push your backside further against him temptingly.

your mouths hang open in unison as he slides into you. he releases a long groan as he bottoms out, your tight unprepared hole swallowing him up deliciously. jeno’s body moves on its own, allowing neither of you time to adjust before reeling his hips back and slamming back in. his hands find purchase on your hips as he begins to pound you, digging into your curves for leverage; each thrust punching a choked moan out of you.

“taking me so well,” he eyes the shameless mess beneath him, skin glistening with perspiration. he’s sure he’s equally as sweaty with the heat, probably more so with how much he is exerting himself; sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead, he can feel droplets racing down the sharp contours of his face to drip off his chin. yet he feels no fatigue, adrenaline keeps him going - keeps him fucking into you at a bestial pace. something about being surrounded by wilderness draws out a side of him so despicably feral, a side of him he had never been able to admit to having.

when he said he would use you, he meant it well and truly. his cock bullied its way deeper into you.

“god! so fucking deep.” you manage to stutter out as he mercilessly crams every last inch of his cock inside. you’re sure he doesn’t mean or care to, but he hits all the spots that make your walls clench around him tighter, sucking him in deeper.

“i can feel how close you are,” your legs shake, everything becoming more and more overwhelming by the second. his fingers dig into your flesh, holding your squirming body, “like being my fucktoy, yeah? gonna cream all over my cock?”

your legs shake and your nails scrape at the hard cushion beneath you as you bawl out incoherent words about how you’re cumming. your eyes roll into the back of you as the feeling seizes your body wholly. leaving your ears ringing and broken moans tumbling out of you as he drills you through your high.

once you fall, your legs give out and you fall limp on the seat. jeno doesn’t let up at all though. strong hands lay into your shoulders, your body is pressed further into the chair with his body weight. you barely have the space to breathe but he couldn’t care less, not when he was so close to the peak.

he plants a foot on the car’s sill to anchor himself through a barrage of unrestrained, choppy thrusts. your poor car jolts and whines under their power.

between getting your throat fucked raw and brain-melting overstimulation, you could not form words; nothing that came out of jeno was coherent either, guttural noises of pleasure erupted from him.

you only find out he’s cumming when you feel his cock twitch inside your sensitive walls. the fact he’s moaning your name between grunts is something you barely pick up; your body and mind have gone numb. motor function is off the table now, the only movement you can manage are involuntary muscle twitches.

jeno stills, basking in the fading pleasure, catching his breath. you’re too out of it to let out a small whine as he pulls out of you, leaving you devastatingly empty.

“you good?” he pipes up, as you sluggishly pick yourself up.

“fine, i think.” the heat and exhaustion have evidently defeated you; the look in your eyes is vacant as you wipe the sweat off of your forehead. you fix the straps of your soiled dress and plant your feet on the ground, your legs give out momentarily, but you catch yourself before you fall to the ground. he can't help but burst out laughing.

“look at you,” he takes your hand to steady you. the smirk on his face tells you he’s thoroughly enjoying the fact he’s fucked you to the point you can’t walk straight. “let’s get you cleaned up and home.”

“thanks,” your cheeks grow hot as you limp toward his truck.

“next time, bring money. not everyone’s as nice as me.”

★ thank you for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests!

#jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #nct smut #📂 ..\ .◜◡◝

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literaila · 2 months

Text

cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air.

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long.

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely.

it's nice. easy.

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow.

and you feel that way now when the kids show up.

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment).

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them.

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment.

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency.

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something.

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face.

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.”

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst.

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.”

“he’s not sleeping.”

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.”

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?”

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure.

(you're sure. it's your fault.)

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?”

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.”

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.”

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.”

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail.

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.”

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad."

"sad?"

"i think he's crying."

megumi snorts.

you blink at her. "are you serious?"

she nods, sullenly.

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler.

there's really no winning here.

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him."

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while.

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way).

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care.

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around.

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it.

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him.

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response.

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead.

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair.

(it's irritatingly soft).

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying."

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying."

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today."

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different.

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again.

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids."

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks."

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing.

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed."

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says.

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?"

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath."

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty."

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning."

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast."

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me."

"well, i want to eat. get up."

"go cook."

"get up."

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?"

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them."

"i was wrong."

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile.

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him.

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty.

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together.

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him.

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed).

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?"

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work."

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap."

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth."

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact."

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space."

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back.

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?"

"yes."

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember."

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers.

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning.

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time.

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick."

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs."

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck.

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you.

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes.

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't."

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies.

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby."

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working."

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you."

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there.

"how are you feeling now, baby?"

"smushed."

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard.

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru.

"yes," he huffs, again.

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow.

work will have to wait. this is much more important.

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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landoslvr · 2 months

Text

MRS HARRY | h. lewis

summary: a scroll through your internet presence as 'mrs harry'. [social media AU.]

pairing: fem!reader x harry lewis

faceclaim: liya joelle

notes: first piece for mrs harry out of the wag universe. love making these kinds of edits, I make them constantly on @sunsetkerr. the style is completely from the loml @whoetoshaw. liya is gonna be the main fc I use for mrs harry, hopefully you like it!

liked by taliamar, wroetoshaw and 17,398 others

yourinstagram playing in the sun with all of my bestest friends 🛥️

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user she's everything to me

user I feel this post in my soul, I can't describe it

taliamar you really are a rockstar 🌟

yourinstagram says a literal popstar

user mother is mothering

wroetoshaw living laughing and loving

yourinstagram oh yeah!! wow!!

user they mean so much to me

user where is that swimsuit from in the 5th slide?

yourinstagram I got it from the iconic, but the tag says 'une piece'!

user thank you!!! a true girls girl 🥹

theburntchip always nice to see my husbands mrs on the timeline

user shes so fine

user how to look like mrs harry tutorial, no borax

liked by ksi, wroetoshaw and 21,398 others

yourinstagram ran away for the weekend (again) to celebrate harry getting older

view all 473 comments

user I swear they're always somewhere

user how harry is tapping that I'll never understand

user major fitty

bezhinga red card behaviour

user explains the last sdmn sunday with no bog

user too busy getting laid

yourinstagram guilty

faithlouisak oh how I love you and only you

yourinstagram you and me (and olive) against the world

user she is too good looking for this world

ksi drown him

yourinstagram roger that mr integrity

user it feels like they just got together but they've been together for what?? 6-7 years?

yourinstagram 8 in march 🫢

user take me to spain instead y/n I beg of you

user I want whatever y/n is drinking to stay looking that good

yourinstagram drink lotssss of water and wear sunscreen until you shine like olive oil babe x

user if harry ever fumbles this, I'm swooping straight in

wroetoshaw you can have her, she kicks in her sleep and uses all the hot water

yourinstagram we have electric you moron

#mrs harry #harry lewis #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis oneshot #harry lewis imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #w2s x reader #w2s #w2s imagine #w2s fic #harry w2s #wroetoshaw #cel's social media aus

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repulsiveliquidation · 3 months

Text

Eyes on Me || Leila Ouahabi

a/n : trying out a new format, we'll see how that goes. i did not proof-read this at all. i am also having a redbull for the first time and i don't think it'll do anything for me.

The sun shines through the hotel room in Malta. Leila has her arm wrapped around your middle with a tight grip on you. The sun gets into your eyes so you try your best to turn around in her arms. She whines, rolling over and tucking her face into your neck. You chuckle and tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Morning, amor,” you chirp softly, lips pressed to her forehead softly. She shifts, leg coming up to wrap around you.

“Bon dia,” she mumbles, pressing a feather-light kiss to your neck. She pushes herself up a little, eyes scrunched up to block out the sun.

“You didn’t close the blinds last night,” she grumbles, plopping herself back on top of you.

“I wasn’t the last one in bed, you were.”

“Yeah, but-” you cut her off.

“Why is that baby?” you ask with a cheeky smile, mind wandering to the activities of last night.

“I was cleaning up after we fucked,” she says quietly, a blush creeping up on her face.

“Mhm, and you fucked me so good I couldn’t feel my legs bebita,” you tease, sliding out from under her and heading into the bathroom. You hear her huff, then her head hitting the pillow. You giggle and go through your morning routine, hearing her rummaging about in the room. You decide on a shower, the sound of the rainfall showerhead going piques her interest and she pokes her head in the door.

“Am I allowed to join you, bebé?”

“Depends, do you promise to behave?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” she says, already stripped and in the shower with you. Her hands wrap around your waist and pull you into her, lips pressed to yours as you reach around and cradle her head. She grins, hands cheekily traveling lower and lower to your ass. She gives you a hard squeeze before a wet smack rings through the bathroom.

You gasp into her mouth and giggle, kissing her harder as the shower steams up. She presses a thigh between your legs, your hips immediately wanting to grind down on her. She helps you, hands gripping your hips as you grind down on her muscular thigh. You whine, looking up into her eyes as you use her body to get off.

She slowly presses you against the wall, smashing her lips to yours in a rough kiss. You moan and cup her face to kiss back. She pulls away and slowly kisses down your neck and collarbones, hands kneading at your sides.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers as her lips ghost your neck, dragging themselves lightly over your chest. She grasps your breasts, lips sucking them in hard and tight. She fondles the other, thigh wedged between your legs again.

“Please,” you beg, “Please don’t stop.”

Leila nods, eyes looking up at you before switching sides. She bites a little too hard but you don’t mind, the pain and pleasure surging through you. Your hips grind down and ride her thigh, evidence of your arousal washed away instantly with every flick of your hips.

“So wet for me, amor? Did I not make you come so well last night?” Leila teases, one hand on your hip as the other grabs as much of your ass as it could. You suddenly moan loudly after a particular grind of your hips, swollen clit catching on her hard thigh. Your orgasm builds to a crescendo, thighs shaking as you begin to move your hips faster and faster.

Suddenly, she grabs your face, her eyes dark with lust.

“Look at me when you come, pretty girl.”

Your eyes shoot up to gaze deeply into hers as your high comes crashing down. You shudder and grab onto her, her signature smile on her face as she holds you up.

You stand and don’t wobble too much, lips crashing onto hers. She giggles and kisses back, getting a little shy.

“My turn,” you say with determination, turning her around to press her back to the wall. She gives you another one of her signature bright smiles, hands tangled in your hair as you kneel before her.

She arches her back a little, your lips wrapped tight around her clit. She was soaked, to say the least, eyes rolling into her head as you rhythmically suck on her folds. She grips your hair tight, grinding herself on your tongue.

“Mm, you’re doing so good for me princesa…” Leila praises, breath hitching in her throat when your tongue slips into her pussy and begins to suckle noisily. The water in the shower remains as hot as ever, your tongue expertly devouring her slick folds with swishes and flicks that bring her knees to a tense shudder.

You grasp her ass and pull her in closer, two fingers pressed deep inside her as your tongue sucks hard on her throbbing clit.

“Just like that, cariño,” Leila praises, her hooded eyes never leaving yours as you stare up at her. Her beautiful dark eyes always soften when she’s close to coming, the pre-orgasm shocks surging through her as push her towards her high.

The scream of your name is heard by no one else but you, the remote hotel room you two booked was the ideal location for a quick weekend getaway from the pitch.

Leila pulls you up and kisses you tenderly, moaning at the taste of her on your lips.

“You are something else with that mouth of yours, princesa.”

“Mm, sí,”

She leans in and kisses you again, grabbing the body wash and getting a good lather going.

“Are you sure you know how to work this thing?” you ask Leila as you step onto the boat.

“Sí, Soy el capitán de los mares!” she says, putting on a captain hat that she finds in the cockpit.

“Just because you’ve got the hat on, doesn’t make you the ‘captain of the seas’ babe!” you warn, laying out a beach towel and your bags on the sun deck.

Leila rolls her eyes at you, taking her time to sail out to crystal blue waters with no one else around. You stand behind her the whole time in the name of love (really you were nitpicking) with your arms around her middle and your chin resting on her shoulder. She turned her head and demanded a few kisses, your mind racing to ingrain the image of Leila sailing the boat into your memory forever. Watching her strong arms turn the console with her dark sunglasses on and pretty bathing suit underneath her shirt was doing wonders for your fantasies.

She docks the rented yacht just near a private island the boat owner had recommended. She kisses your cheek and walks out onto the deck with a smile as she takes a deep breath. You, however, have not stopped staring at your girlfriend.

“Would you like a picture amor? I know I look irresistible right now,” she teases with a grin, a deep blush flooding up your neck and cheeks.

You scramble for your phone and walk up to her, the camera pointed at her as she poses confidently for you.

“Done,” you say shyly, giggling softly as you look through the pictures. She stands and comes over, kissing your shoulder softly.

“You’re so beautiful, amor,” you tell her, tilting your head up to kiss her. Her lips find yours, phone abandoned on the deck as your arms pull her closer and your lips kiss her harder.

“Sí, I am,” she says, earning a smack on her ass. She laughs, cupping your face and kissing you hard.

“You’re the beautiful one, bebita.”

Leila pulls you towards the towels you’ve placed, kneeling and rummaging in her bag. She hands you a speaker and you get it connected, playing your party mix as loud as you want. She pulls something else out of the bag, something that wipes the grin off your face.

Leila holds up her strap, a cheeky grin on her face. You try to grab it from her and hide it, looking around with fear that people would see her holding a literal dick in her hands. But you visibly relax when you realize that no one is around.

“I asked bebé, no one comes around here so we’ve got it all to ourselves for a few hours.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, still a little apprehensive.

“I would have never brought it if I wasn’t sure, princesa.”

“Then fuck me, Ouahabi.”

You did not have to tell her twice.

Leila pounced on you, roughly maneuvering you onto your back before smashing her lips to yours. You kiss back the best you can, a high whine leaving your throat.

“Please Leila,” you whimper as she pulls away and kisses down your neck. Your hands tangle in her hair, nails scratching hard at her scalp as you grasp her dark locks. She moans against your skin, teeth caught on your nipple as she pulls away.

She helps you to your feet before pulling the harness on, turning you around to hold onto the side of the boat. You push your sunglasses up before you feel Leila’s cock right on your entrance. She’s just pulled your swimsuit to the side, fingers making quick work of your top. It falls to the floor; your breasts are full and ready for a little color, from the sun and your girlfriend’s adoration to marking them.

She teases your entrance with the toy, hand reaching around to rub your clit. You groan and hang your head low, grinding back into her chasing just a little friction.

“No, princesa. You will do as I say or we go back where I’ll fuck you in front of everyone.”

You look back at her in shock, eyes as wide as saucers.

“See, we don’t want that now do we?”

“No…”

“So be a good girl,” she says before she leans into you, lips close to your ear, “and do as I fucking say.”

You nod, turning your head back forward with your ass out like she put you. She grins, pushing the tip of her cock into you slowly. You feel her bottom out, her cock filling you to the brim. You groan and your eyes roll into your head, holding back the urge to fuck back on her thick cock.

Leila knew that you were holding back with all your might. She could see your thighs shaking a little and your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge tight.

She gently began to thrust into you, hands gripping your hips tight as she fucked deep into you. You moaned her name freely, any fear of anyone hearing you was out the door.

“Feels good, mi vida?” Leila asks, spanking your ass hard three times before you could answer. Your response catches in your throat, turning into a deep moan as she starts to pound harder and rougher into you.

“Fuck!” you scream, knees buckling at the strength of her thrusts. She pulls out and lays you down on the elevated deck, hurriedly kissing your breasts and slowly down your stomach. She presses your legs wide open, burying her face between your legs. She sucks hard on your wet clit, three fingers slipping into your soaked pussy.

“Lei-Leila!” you stutter as she begins to press up into your sweet spot and suck harder at your clit. She pulls away when she’s got slick dripping down her chin, leaning over and pressing her lips to yours.

You kiss her sloppily, her cock slipping back inside you as she pulls you closer.

“You take my cock so well, amor…” she growls, fucking up into you harder and harder. You nod as tears begin to fill your eyes, your hand falling between your legs to flick at your clit hard.

“You're close, sí? You wanna come on my cock, mi estrella?”

“Please, please!”

“Good girl, you remember the rules princesa? Eyes on me when you come.”

You force your eyes open, staring into her brown eyes that set off your orgasm.

Leila fucks you through it, pounding right into your sweet spot until you scream for her to stop. She presses a sweet kiss to your lips. She pulls out and takes the harness off, placing it back in her bag.

“Mi chica perfecta,” she compliments as she helps you to your feet. She hands you your swim top and ties it back on for you.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Sí, it is my best quality,” she exclaims, climbing onto the deck and jumping straight into the sea.

“Careful!” you yell as it falls on deaf ears. She resurfaces above the clear water, urging you to join her.

“It’s not cold!” she tells you when she hears you complaining about it, wading above water right by the ladder.

You reach out for her to help you in, instead, she yanks you head first into the water. You yelp in surprise, smacking her arm hard as you try to catch your breath.

“I could have died, idiota!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t! Come on, let’s swim for a bit then I’ve got something to show you that I think you’ll like.”

An hour later, you’re back on the boat with some decent color and 5 more hickeys than before. Leila sails for about 10 minutes or so, docking the boat at the most beautiful island you’ve seen. She smiles when she sees your surprise, carefully helping you off the boat with her bag in her other hand. The silky soft sand slips between your toes, the warm afternoon sun beating down on you both. There’s a little hut and some blankets, but no one else around.

“Are we alone too?”

“Yes, just you and me.”

You take initiative this time, dragging Leila over to the towels where there’s a little shade and a soft sea breeze. She sits down quickly, loving the enthusiasm you’ve got. You crawl up her, kissing softly along her body. She relaxes into the sand, arms crossed behind her head.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you whisper, teeth pulling her bottoms off. Leila watches, eyes growing dark with lust like they did earlier. She lets out a frustrated sigh, legs opening wide at your quiet request.

You do the same, stripping off your swimsuit, the thrill of it giving that extra little boost of confidence.

You help her put the strap back on, settling high on her lap as you gently settle onto it. She fills you for a third time, her thick cock still giving you that full feeling that gets your heart racing and toes curling.

“Whenever you’re ready, princesa,” she coos, rough hands caressing your thighs. You start to ride her slowly, head thrown back in pure passion as she decides to thrust up into you as you come down on her.

“Fuck Leila, cock feels so good,” you whine, riding her harder before she holds you up and fucks up into you. You scream in pleasure, the accuracy of her thrusts has your head spinning in pure sexual ecstasy.

She manages to flip you over, leaning back and wasting no time fucking into your pussy hard. She groans and presses your legs back, hips expertly fucking into your wet hole. You can only scratch your nails down her back, moaning loudly as she gives you her cock how she deems fit.

“Leila, por favor!”

“What do you want hm?” she leans down and whispers to you, hips fucking into you deeper than you thought possible.

“Please make me come!”

“¿Quieres que te haga venir, mi chica perfecta?”

“Please!”

“All you had to do was ask, princesa,” she teased, hand wrapping around your neck as your eyes immediately looked up at her. They’re glassy and focused on nothing but her, your body shuddering hard as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. The force of the thrusts that throws you over the edge knocks the wind out of your lungs; her hand tight around your neck sends that ecstatic feeling of lightheadedness straight to your core.

“Leila!” you croak out before she pulls out and quickly shifts lower to suck on your folds. You moan loudly and have to pry her off you, a hungry growl heard deep in her throat when she presses her lips to yours.

“Want you to come too,” you tell her, hands already on her ass to pull her up onto your face. She groans and throws the strap off, eagerly straddling your face for her to ride.

You stick your tongue out and she folds over your head, gripping your hair as you devour her wet folds. She grinds herself down on your tongue, her jaw wrenched open as she mutters your name over and over.

“So pretty,” you whisper into her pussy to yourself, leaning in to taste her again. She’s intoxicating, you reckon you could eat her out for hours.

Your lips suck hard at her clit, nails dug into the abundant meat of her ass. She shudders on top of you, her thighs tightening around your head. This spurs you on, tongue flicking over her clit as she comes undone on top of you. She rides it out until she’s satisfied, leaving you feeling satisfied and used.

She crawls off you, kissing you softly before pulling you into her lap to watch the sunset.

“I love you,” she says quietly, face tucked into your neck as the sun begins to set in front of you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, her arms tightening around you.

#leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagines #man city women #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

Chapter 17 - I Ain't Worried

The ending of this chapter was my absolute favorite to write! Me and my Americaness is shining bright in this chapter! I live in Florida for half the year for uni - so I love the state. Logan also needs lots of love and a forehead kiss :D

I'm so sorry for the last chapter, but wait to send me the therapy bills cause the next chapter is gonna be a doozy (I apologize in advance)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Much love

GO AMERICA RAAAWWWWWWW

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“MAAXXX!”

Max jumped at the sheer volume of your voice. Last he knew, you were all the way at the Williams garage. It wouldn’t be possible for you to possibly be able to scream that far. Yet, you were known to surprise him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to be dragging one Logan Sargeant by the hand. The latter looked almost…scared? The Dutchman quickly put his data pad down and turned to your direction. By now, you had dropped the American’s hand and was pushing him closer.

“Just tell him,” you told the blond, who was currently digging his feet in the concrete. Logan only rolled his eyes as Max lifted an eyebrow. He looked between the younger two, waiting for someone to spill the beans.

You huffed, since Logan was taking too long.

“Logan here wanted to see if you’d want to join us at the beach after the race today to celebrate points last race. Since there’s really no good beaches in China. ”

A squawk came from the American. “I didn’t want to ask, you did.”

Now, that could have hurt Max’s feelings, but he really didn’t know the American well enough to be offended.

The senior Red Bull racer shifted his stance. “Sure. I mean, who’s coming?”

Finally, Logan spoke up. “Well, right now it’s just us because someone,” he gave you a look, “jumped the gun on the invite. I was going to send a text out.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.

Max thought for a moment. All you had to say about the American was nothing short than amazing. And for just a second, Max felt pretty bad as he looked at the two of you, who were waiting for an answer.

He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like fun!”

With the way Logan’s head whipped up and the hope in your eyes, Max knew he made the right choice.

“Perfect,” the William’s driver whispered, not in full belief that THEE Max Verstappen was going to go to the beach with them.

You playfully punched his arm. “I told you!” you all but whispered as Logan smiled down at you.

The three of you kind of stood in awkward silence, until you grabbed Logan’s hand once again. “Come on, we got to go find your other half!”

Logan didn’t get a say in anything else as you dragged him in the other direction, back to the McLaren garage.

A laugh from behind Max startled him a bit. He looked over his shoulder to find you manager looking fondly at your disappearing figure. Another eyebrow raise silently questioned the man.

Vito caught his eye and gestured to you. “It’s great to see her making friends. Well, more than just Arthur and Ollie.”

Max just hummed as he put a hand across his forehead to be able to see through the bright Miami sun. Yes, it was hot and the beach was the last place that he wanted to be after a sweaty race. But, you and Logan seemed so hopeful. He could see Kelly now approving of how he was letting loose a bit. It had been too long since he allowed himself to have fun.

A ding of his phone had him looking for the rectangular device. He let out a dry laugh as he saw a text from Charles.

Emotional Support Rival

I hear the kids have roped you in as well to go to the beach after this?

Mad Max

Yep Couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes And it’ll be fun to let loose, ya know? Also, who else is coming

Emotional Support Rival

Yeah And the American kid too He’s strangely growing on me Uh, it’s Lando, Oscar, Alex, George, me, Logan, and then the kid

Mad Max

Ah, cool And same Well, good luck today

Emotional Support Rival

Yeah, yeah, yeah I’ll try to stay out of the gravel :D

The emoji made Max shudder as he stared at the little smiley face that you had roped Charles into using more often. He could take it from you, but not from anyone else.

You suddenly made your way back into the garage, a bit out a breath.

“You done running everywhere?” Vito questioned, handing you a bottle of water.

“Yep! Beach trip is a go!” You fist pumped. “I’m so glad I brought my swimsuit.”

You started to ramble about everything you wanted to do at the beach. A few key words such as “recreation of the beach scene from Top Gun” and how “oddly strange it was that Logan reminded you of Ryan Gosling in the Barbie movie.” Everything just made Max chuckle to himself.

He was a bit nervous that he wasn’t starting pole today. Charles had just nabbed it out of his grasp. You had surprisingly gotten back up the grid after what happened at Suzuka and then a placing of P7 at Shanghai, your lowest finish yet.

Shanghai Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points

Lewis Hamilton – 15 points

George Russell – 12 points

Lando Norris – 11 points

Oscar Piastri – 8 points

Y/n L/n – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 2 points

Carlos Sainz – 1 point

Fernando Alonso – 0 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

But now you were starting back at the top with him and Charles.

Starting Grid

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Lando Norris

Logan Sargeant

Alex Albon

George Russell

Carlos Sainz

Fernando Alonso

Lewis Hamilton

Lance Stroll

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Valtteri Bottas

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

“Our starting grid looks promising today at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Now, the Williams seem strong today as Logan Sargeant qualified his highest position yet. He seems like a man on a mission for a podium. We’re glad to see that Y/n L/n is back up top following her crash back at Suzuka and then a low finish at Shanghai.”

The camera focused on you in your car, waiting for everyone to flee the scene. You caught the lens and gave a small peace sign, before suddenly becoming embarrassed as you put your visor down. It was finally time for the race as everyone got off the starting line.

Sure, you could have been even more nervous after your crash, but you had just shrugged everything off and got back to it.

“We see the drivers in the formation lap now. There goes our race leader Max Verstappen followed by Charles Leclerc. Now the drivers we are going to be focused on today are the Williams drivers, Logan and Alex. We want to see if Sargeant can keep his cool in the hot seat, both figuratively and literally as the temperatures are high today.

“All the drivers are back in their spots and now they patiently wait for those five red lights…

And it’s lights out and away we go at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. There goes Max Verstappen, already pulling away from the very beginning. Down they go toward the first corner and CHARLES LECERLC GOES OFF THE TRACK! But it seems like he is back on and I’m getting radio of no damage so he’s still in, but what a start.

“Y/n L/n is up to second with Oscar Piastri now in third with Logan Sargeant who has gained a position. Lando Norris is behind him with the other Williams car making him a Williams sandwich.”

“Alright Mitch. Can we try to convert this into a win maybe?” You pressed the radio on as you had been called into the pits right behind Max.

“Ah, that’s a negative kid. Max has been given the priority for this race.”

“Boooooo. Max is a certified rookie-hater.”

“Seems like Y/n L/n is not happy with that team call.” David Croft chuckles after listening in on your radio.

“Who is currently behind me?” You asked as the last lap was nearing.

Mitch responded. “Piastri is behind, but Sargeant is in DRS to him.”

When she said that, your heart did a little jump. Secretly, you were hoping that Logan would get the jump on Oscar. (But no one had to know that.)

With two more laps left, you needed to check in one again as you could see a vehicle catching up.

“Mitch, status for the car behind me please.”

“It’s, uh…Is this correct?” You heard her whisper to someone else.

“Uh Mitch? Priorities please!” Your car jerked around the corner that sent you into the last lap.

“Sargeant is 2.385 seconds behind you and not gaining. So just get across the finish line.”

“LOGAN?!”

“Yes. Logan.”

You didn’t even realize that you had crossed the finish line.

“AND WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? LOGAN SARGEANT CROSSES THE LINE IN A PERSONAL BEST OF A THIRD POSITION! A WILLIAMS IN ON THE PODIUM AND HIS TEAMMATE COMES AFTER HIM TO MAKE IS A 3-4 FOR THE WILLIAMS TEAM!”

Max crawled out of his car and raised his hands once he was out on the concrete. He turned and expected you to immediately run toward him like the last 1-2, but you never showed up. All he could see was you hunched over…a Williams?

When did that get there?

“LOGAANNNN!” you yelled down into the cockpit as you were practically in there with the American.

He batted you away so that he could get out with you. And once he was out, he was glad that he was ready for you as you jumped into his arms. Your helmets clashed as the two of you came together, but you could deal with a concussion later. He gently placed you back on the ground, but was again bulldozed over by his teammate.

It was at that moment you noticed a Dutch driver standing by himself, a bit dejected. You quickly jogged over and jumped on his back.

“Maaaaxxxxx, another podium baby!”

The Dutchman was glad that he had his hands on your legs as you leaned back and almost fell over.

“Kid are you trying to kill me?”

“Yes, you rookie-hater. Are you ever going to let me win?” you whined as he let you back down gently so that the two of you could get weighed.

“There will come a time kid. You have to be patient.”

Once your helmet was off, he could see your pouted lips. “I don’t want to be patient.”

Sadly, Arthur was off getting trained for endurance racing and wouldn’t be back to a race until Monaco for Charles’s home race. So, your favorite interviewer was not there after the cooldown room.

Yet, it was enjoyable due to the blond in the room. The three of you watched the TV and winced as you saw Charles go off the track.

“Sheesh,” you grimaced.

Max sighed, “And he said he’d try to stay out of the gravel.” He looked over at Logan. “Nice job on the overtake with Piastri.”

Logan kind of just stared at him for a moment before coming back to reality. “Thank you. He went a bit wide, and I tried to keep my elbows out."

You punched him in the side and he let out an oof. “Keep your elbows out my ass. You drove phenomenally.”

The podium celebration was amazing, but you were looking forward to one thing and one thing only.

“Alexa, play I Ain’t Worried by One Republic.”

Sand kicked at your feet as you ran behind Logan as he threw the egg-shaped ball at Oscar. The Aussie may have fumbled a bit, but he was able to run down the long stretch toward the opposite’s goal.

“Max!” he yelled and threw the ball to the unexpected Dutchman. The ball hit Max’s head and tumbled to the sand. You threw your hands up in frustration.

“Max!” you groaned. The remaining boys of Lando, Alex, George, and Charles all laughed at your frustration.

“What! This is not football!” He pointed to the American football in the sand. Charles leaned down to pick it up. Surprisingly, he twirled it well in the air.

“Technically, it’s American football!” Logan yelled from the other side, where you were standing with your hands on your hips.

George took the ball from Charles and chucked it to Lando. The Brit should have been looking the other direction, because to him you came out of nowhere and bulldozed him over.

Logan put his arms up, pretending to be a field goal. “And tackle!”

The curly-hair boy pretended to spit out sand as you stood, football in hand.

He looked up at you in amazement. “Where did you learn to tackle like that?”

You spiraled the ball perfectly back to Logan. “Live in Texas for 5 years. If there’s nothing bigger there than sweet tea and Bucees, it’s football.”

This time, Oscar was able to get the ball and run all the way to your “end goal.”

“Touchdown!”

“This was so not Top Gun,” George sighed as he kicked sand. “The shirtless ones always win.”

“Uh George?” Logan asked, making the taller Brit look up at the other shirtless drivers. You were technically shirtless as you only had your bikini on.

A bigger sigh left George’s lips.

“So can we all agree that I’d be Maverik?”

“Logan, if anyone was Maverik, it’d be me. Y’a know, main character vibes. You can be Rooster.”

“Doesn’t he die?”

“No silly, that’s Goose in the first one.”

“Who would I be?”

“Bob. Oscar, you’d be Bob.”

Race Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Logan Sargeant – 15 points

Alex Albon – 12 points

Charles Leclerc – 11 points

Lando Norris – 8 points

Oscar Piastri – 6 points

Carlos Sainz – 4 points

Lewis Hamilton – 2 points

George Russell – 1 point

Fernando Alonso

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Lance Stroll

Pierre Gasly

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Valtteri Bottas

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Championship Standings

Max Verstappen – 150 points

Charles Leclerc – 95 points

Y/n L/n – 65 points

Lando Norris – 61 points

Lewis Hamilton – 49 points

Oscar Piastri – 45 points

Carlos Sainz – 33 points

George Russell – 31 points

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points

Alex Albon – 20 points

Logan Sargeant – 17 points

Lance Stroll

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 215 points

Ferrari – 128 points

McLaren – 106 points

Mercedes – 80 points

Williams – 37 points

Aston Martin - 23 point

Racing Bulls – 21 points

Alpha Romeo

Haas

Alpine

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 highway to the DANGA ZONE - podium (with my favorite American and teammate) and some well deserved beach time after

liked by logansargeant, arthur_leclerc, b0x_b0x_nightmare and 73,295 others

maxverstappen1 uh I was on the podium too??

y/n.89 we're all tired of you being on the top step charles_leclerc yes, let's have the poor people have a chance landonorris POOR PEOPLE?? YOU MAKE MORE THAN I DO oscarpiastri you're getting paid??

logan2sarg AMERICAN ON THE PODIUM - ONE STEP CLOSER TO FREEDOM RAAAWWRRRR

sargeant_log this post has signaled the Americans

arthurxy/n ARTHUR BACK IN THE LIKES

maxverstappen1 I'm your only teammate??

logansargeant and I'm the only American driver?? y/n.89 oh be quiet

emotional_support_rivals I was thankfully at the beach, and let me tell you - an exact replica of the top gun beach scene

lestappenlove lemme guess...Logan is Maverick? y/n.89 NO HE'S ROOSTER

y/n.nation our girl looking prettyyyy - mystery boy must be keeping her happy

maxverstappen1 has posted

maxverstappen1 the progression of the day : sun time, burnt time, shade time

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappencom, dutch_lion, max_max, and 2,948,923 others

max_fan lobster max is back

kellypiquet did you remember sunscreen?

maxverstappen1 yes y/n.89 no he didn't

lestappenlove max in a bucket hat is something I didn't know I needed

redbullracing should we add umbrellas to the car?

f1_group I wonder who won the football game

y/n.89 Logan, max, oscar, and I won - while Lando, Alex, George and Charles LOST alex_albon it's because somehow you are freakishly good at the sport, Logan grew up playing it, Oscar grew up with Logan and Max just wins everything charles_leclerc Max is a certified everyone-hater

formula1_power this beach trip is my Roman Empire

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant my job is beach

liked by williamsracing, oscarpiastri, freedom4logan, and 95,294 others

L_sarg YEAAAHHHHH PODIUM ON HOME SOIL

l2_fan WTF IS A KILOMETEERRRRRRRRR

y/n.89 your fans scare me just a bit

logansargeant they don't bite y/n.89 YES THEY DO

williamsracing FREEDOOOMMMMM (did we do that correctly?)

formula1_fan Logan on the podium has boosted my morale for living

cota_official can't wait to see you again in October! (maybe top step this time?)

author guuyyyyssssss cota_official sorry... usa4logan HELLO??

oscarpiastri happy for you mate

barbie and what a great job you do at beach Logan

charles_leclerc has posted

charles_leclerc beach, please

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 1,843,923 others

sharl16 its the return of the blue filter

cha_cha_red the caption is giving "72 best beach instagram captions to share your vacation fun"

y/n.89 do you have his search history or something? charles_leclerc quiet or I'd have to drop something ferrarifan what do you know

ferrari_failure glad he's having some fun

red_flag the groups' captions hit hard - I'm dying

maxverstappen1 why don't you just say the word??

landonorris cause he's under contract charles_leclerc legally I can't say can't say anything, read my lips y/n.89 why is he crying, and what does that have to do with "pitch perfect" ??

scuderiaferrari remember to use sunscreen!

alex_albon has posted

alex_albon freedom or whatever

liked by lilymhe, albon_pets, logansargeant, and 835,920 others

alobono love the matching Williams tank-tops with Logan

y/n.89 sun or whatever

logansargeant sand or whatever oscarpiastri beach or whatever landonorris the sea or whatever

aa_on_top why he walking like that?

y/n.89 chafing alex_albon SHUT UP georgerussell63 penguin

williamsracing you look great Alex

y/n.89 not williams flirty on the main @.lilymhe they're trying to take your boyfriend lilymhe they can have him :) alex_albon LILY??

fan_of_f1 probably the only one who doesn't need sunscreen

albon_alex23 not Alex getting bullied on HIS post

landonorris has posted

landonorris my toes got wet

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.89, lnfour, maxfewtrell, and 839,183 others

lnfournation big stretch

la_la_lando is he napping??

y/n.89 it was all too much for little Lando Norris maxverstappen1 couldn't handle losing at football landonorris I was JUST resting my eyes charles_leclerc suurreeee

ln_4 suns out, tits out too I guess

last_lap_lando are those....weights??

y/n.89 he said it was for the "pump"? idk if he found it tho y/n_nation she is really coming for them all today

mclaren watch out for sharks!

lando_norizz oh to just lie down on the sand and play with my best buds

oscarpiastri has posted

oscarpiastri I'm bob

liked by mclaren, lilyzneimer, auzzieauzzieauzzie, and 834,294 others

top_gun_enthusiast f1 & top gun crossover when??

y/n.89 Logan would go nuts - he has a crush on tom cruise logansargeant Y/NNNNNNN oscarpiastri it's true

oscah81 an aussie in his natural habitat

osc_pastry florida?? oscah81 the water??

hoe4oscarpiastri bless George and his shirtless pictures influences

danielricciardo can't believe you didn't invite me????

y/n.89 there was only room for one aussie plus we've already been to the beach together?? carossainz55 it's ok, they forgot me too Daniel landonorris guys be quiet, you're making y/n cry cause now she feels bad charles_leclerc she already cried because she saw a lonely crab DO NOT make it worse

mclaren ice bath thirst traps coming next?

micLaren_bois ahhhh thank you y/n for this content

georgerussell63 has posted

georgerussell63 gave out a master class on shirtless posts today

liked by carmenmmundt, mercedesamgf1, russellgeorge, and 194,284 others

russellgeorge the king of shirtless pictures has arrived

king_george63 when did George get a jeep?

y/n.89 he didn't, he asked these random guys if he could take a quick picture and ended up breaking the wipers logansargeant it's true, I was there georgerussell62 y/n you do not need to tell all my secrets. do I need to call toto? y/n.89 you don't scare me cause he liked me more than you mercedesamgf1 play nice George - toto

he-just-tUrned-in0-me the second picture is everthing

y/n.89 he ate the sand right after georgerussell63 Y/N!!!! alex_albon you new here? just ignore it

george_at_merc this just ties all of their posts together

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing podium, points, and some all American football

liked by f1, y/n.89, logansargant, arthur_leclerc, and 803,195 others

logan4freedom GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS

williamspookies GOD BLESS AMERICA y/n.89 AND GENTLEMEN logansargeant START. YOUR. ENGIIINNNEESSSSS alex_albon I am only slightly concerned

f1mia glad to have you all here! until next year RAWWRRRR

charles_leclerc can you please take out the gravel pleaasseeee

b0x_b0x_nightmare this year's podium was so wholesome

best_rookie I knooowww, max with Logan and y/n was a trio I didn't know I needed

tomcruise great job @.logansargeant, glad I got to watch

logansargeant OH MY GOSHHHHHH y/n.89 he just died but can you give miles teller my number please? maxverstappen1 y/n no, you have a boyfriend???? y/n.89 he's the one who told me to ask??????????

box_box_official this weekend will always be on repeat

williams_fan this whole weekend was so wholesome, can't wait for more

author oh, uhhhhh readers what did you do? author get your therapy bills ready?

formula1_fanatic can't wait to see what the rest of the season holds :D

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