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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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Be Brave

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre. Chaos ensues. Oscar’s there to help.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: none

a/n: this is not the angst I threatened or the fic from the dialogue poll I did, but a secret third thing: a request I finally got the motivation to finish after seeing cute pics of Oscar with kids. Enjoy!

In hindsight, whoever’s idea it was to bring a classroom of five year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre- an active car factory- has definitely never stepped foot in a classroom full of five years olds. You’re lucky- your students are quite well behaved, and you’ve got plenty of parent chaperones with you. It turns out that about half your class’ families seem to be McLaren fans. Half your students had showed up today in bright orange- papaya, one of them had corrected you. You’re not complaining- it makes them easier to spot.

The field trip has been fun. The kids are thrilled about everything. It’s just. Tiny hands, tiny humans, wandering through an active car factory? You’re on edge the whole time. You’re constantly scanning the class, counting to make sure you haven’t lost any students as the tour guide tries to explain mechanical engineering in words that 5 year olds will understand.

You breathe a mild sigh of relief when they bring you into a large, open conference room. They’re going to have someone come speak to the kids in a few minutes. While you have the chance, and a closed room with enough people to guard the exits, you stand in front of your class and tell them to go wild. Seventeen five year olds begin to run around the room. One 5 year old clings to your hand in the quietest corner of the room.

Sammy. He’s a quiet kid, not one for the chaos. He’s stuck to your side the whole morning, staring at everything with big eyes and jumping at all the loud noises. You relate to him more than you’d like to admit. Somehow, the quiet kid turned into a teacher. It seems almost hard to believe looking back, how painfully shy you were.

Sammy tugs on your hand and points at a large mural on one of the walls. “Who’s that?” He asks.

The room you’re in has the two current drivers plastered on the walls, larger than life. You look where he’s pointing and smile.

“That’s Oscar Piastri,” you say, extending the syllables for him.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” he sounds out. “That’s my dad’s favorite driver.”

You smile. “Wanna know a secret?” He nods, and so you whisper loudly. “He’s my favorite too.”

Sammy giggles. “Oscar Piastri.”

“He says it better than most of the broadcasters, I think,” says someone behind you.

You turn and come face to face with none other than Oscar Piastri. You hope your shock isn’t too obvious, and you try to control your wide eyes. They’d said someone from the team was going to come talk to your kids- you hadn’t expected it to be one of the drivers. You smile politely as you feel Sammy step behind your legs.

“Hi. Sorry about the…” you wave your hand in the general direction of the children running around behind you. “If they didn’t get some excercise they were never going to make it through the rest of the day.”

“No worries,” Oscar says, smiling brightly. He looks at Sammy where he’s hiding behind you. “Not this guy, though?”

“No, Sammy here is very well behaved and polite,” you say proudly, before whispering, “and quite shy.”

Oscar nods in understanding. His face has gone soft. You weren’t lying when you said he was your favorite, and it only increases with the way he looks at the five year old so fondly. You think maybe Oscar understands Sammy all too well. You turn over your shoulder to look at the little boy.

“Sammy, should we practice being big and brave and introducing ourselves?” You ask. He frowns slightly but nods anyways. “We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nods again and steps out from behind your legs. You stand up straight, and he follows suit. Then you stick your hand out to shake Oscar’s as you introduce yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, repeating your name back to you. “I’m Oscar.”

Sammy takes a tentative step forward and sticks his tiny hand out. You drop back just a bit and pull your phone from your pocket, giving Oscar a questioning glance and making a camera sort of motion with your hands. He nods eagerly before he crouches down to Sammy’s level.

“My name is Samuel,” he says, as he shakes Oscar’s hand. “But you can call me Sammy.”

You hide an endeared laugh behind your hand and snap a picture of the two of them. You know his parents will be thrilled.

“Hi, Sammy,” Oscar says sweetly. “My name is Oscar. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You’re my dad’s favorite driver,” Sammy says. “And my teacher’s favorite driver. So I think you’re my favorite, too. Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You stare down at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling betrayed by your favorite student. Your face grows warm, but Oscar just laughs lightly and smiles up at you.

“Is that so?” He says, turning back to Sammy. “I’m honored.”

He stands back up, and Sammy goes back to clinging to your side. There’s a bright smile on Oscar’s face. You know yours matches it.

“So, are you our guest speaker?” You ask, trying to will your face to cool down.

He nods eagerly, eyes darting around the room, watching kids run everywhere. One of them bumps into the back of your legs and squeaks out a quick apology before running away again. He laughs lightly, hiding it behind his hand.

“Hopefully Lando and I can keep them entertained,” he says.

“Oh, they’ll be fine, they’ll sit quietly when I ask them to,” you say.

He gives you an uncertain look, a soft smirk on his lips. You laugh, hoping it’s not painfully obvious how taken you are with him. He’s been your favorite driver because of his level head and dry humor, but standing in front of him you can’t help but notice how cute he is. Before he can say anything in response and challenge your ability to control your class, Lando comes stumbling into the room.

“Okay, now this is my kinda school trip,” he says, an impressed grin on his lips. He elbows Oscar. “This was me as a kid.”

Oscar gestures towards Sammy, still tucked against your leg. “This was me, I think.”

Lando laughs and nods. He tilts his head at you, and you stick your hand out once again and introduce yourself. Sammy follows suit. Lando bends to shake the five year olds hand, giving both you and him an impressed smile.

“Sammy’s working on being big and brave and introducing himself,” Oscar says.

“Well he’s doing a great job,” Lando says with an approving nod.

“He’s got a great teacher,” Oscar says, grinning at you.

With that, your face grows hot again. You clear your throat and turn over your shoulder to look at the class. They’re beginning to slow just slightly. Perfect timing.

You clap your hands, and each of them skids to a stop, turning to look at you. “Okay, friends! Come sit up here, we have some very special guest speakers.”

The children all make their way to the front of the room, sitting down on the carpet in a semicircle. Even Sammy wanders away, taking a seat near the back. You turn back to Oscar and Lando, who both have impressed looks on their faces.

“I think we need you to run our meetings,” Oscar says, brows raised.

“Oh, if you give them permission to go crazy consistently when they need it, they’ll listen when you tell them it’s time to be calm,” you say with a shrug. “My mum was a teacher, too, she taught me that.”

“Yeah, if Zak let me be a menace before meetings I’d have a lot easier time sitting through them,” Lando agrees. “Alright, you little muppets!”

He steps in front of the class. Oscar gives you an exasperated smile, like you’re both sharing a moment of understanding. Maybe Lando’s still a 5 year old at heart. You laugh and step back with the chaperones to watch them speak as Oscar follows Lando’s lead. It’s fun to watch. You realize they couldn’t have picked better speakers.

Some of the kids recognize the drivers, but even the ones who don’t are enamored once they find out that these guys drive race cars for a living. You snap lots of pictures of your students staring up at them with wide grins. Lando continues to call them muppets, earning laughs each time. Oscar gets down on their level and uses a little model of the car to explain the aerodynamics. They give a horrible demonstration of slipstream, with Lando pretending to drive and Oscar pretending to be the air. Then, at the end, they open it up for questions. Eighteen tiny hands fly up into the air.

“Do you speed when you drive a normal car?” One of them asks.

“Never,” Lando lies.

“D’you ever fight with other drivers?” Another student asks.

“We try to leave what happens in the race on the track,” Oscar answers. “We’re all quite nice to each other outside of the races, actually.”

Lando shrugs and shakes his hand from side to side. A few of the kids catch on and laugh.

Sammy is sitting in the back of the group, his hand raised. He’s not waving it around, not bouncing up and down. But you watch Oscar scan the group, see him spot the tiny hand anyways.

“Sammy,” he calls out. “What’s your question?”

Sammy looks shocked to have been called on, but he clears his throat and speaks up. “What’s your favorite color?”

The grin that breaks across Oscar’s face is endearing. Lando smiles, too, presses his hand to his chest. You wait for the canned answer- papaya, you think.

“Mine’s bright green,” Lando says.

Oscar nods. “Mine is blue. What’s yours?”

“Mine is blue too,” Sammy answers.

“Good taste.” Oscar says. He exchanges a grin with you. You smile proudly at Sammy, so happy to see him step out of his shell just a bit.

The next student who gets called on says, “my mum told me to ask if you’re single,” and you clap your hands and walk towards the front.

“Okay, friends, I think Oscar and Lando have given us enough of their time,” you say. “Can we all say a big thank you?”

A chorus of little voices calls out varying forms of thank you. One of them screams it, and Lando winces. Oscar’s cheeks are pink, probably from the student asking about his relationship status. Is it bad that you almost wanted him to answer? You’re being ridiculous, you know. But his flushed face is cute, and you can’t help but smile at him.

You shake their hands one more time before they leave. “Thanks again. You’ve really just made their days.”

“We were happy to,” Oscar says.

“Yeah, you’ve got a good group of kids,” Lando agrees.

“And they’ve got a good teacher,” Oscar repeats his earlier comment.

You laugh, feeling your face grow hot. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Oscar goes to say something else, but someone leans in through the door and calls out to him and Lando. He smiles sheepishly as Lando urges him towards the exit, tugging on his shirt.

“It was nice meeting you!” Oscar calls out before he disappears through the doors.

You turn back to your class and refocus. It’s time to move on to lunch, which is always the worst part of any field trip. Someone comes by to bring your group to the cafeteria. Your field trip worst nightmare- a large, open room full of people. You make sure all the chaperones are set with their groups and head off.

It goes fine. At first. You get the kids settled at tables and do a quick head count. Everyone’s there. They provide lunch for the kids, so you help to hand them out to everyone. Eighteen five year olds sit quietly, eat sandwiches and drink juice. You breath a little sigh of relief.

Then the kids all decide they need to go to the bathroom. You split them up, send them with chaperones in groups. You stay back at the tables with the ones who say they don’t need to go, knowing full well that in ten minutes they’ll be whining for the restroom. You clean up spilled apple juice and eat half your lunch. The bathroom groups come back one by one. Seventeen five year olds sit down at the tables.

And no, that can’t be right. You count again. Seventeen. One more time- seventeen. There’s an empty seat. You turn to the nearest chaperone, who also has a panicked look on his face.

“Sammy,” he says, eyes wide. “He was in my bathroom group, I swore he came back with us-“

You can’t panic. You turn to the nearest McLaren employee and tell them the situation. The look on her face tells you she’s going to panic, so you take control of the situation. You ask her to get everyone on the lookout for him, to page him over the speakers. Then you turn to your class.

“Friends,” you say, loudly. “Has anyone seen Sammy?”

Casey, one of the louder boys, raises his hand. “He stopped to tie his shoes when we were coming back.”

You could strangle the parent for not noticing, for not keeping an eye on the kids, but you don’t have time for that. At the very least, you have a starting point. You delegate a couple chaperones to stay with the kids in the cafeteria, and enlist a couple others to help you look. Panic is itching at the back of your brain, but you keep it tamped down. You’ll find him, and then you’ll freak out about it.

You split up, wandering the halls and asking everyone if they’ve seen a shy five year old with dark hair. They all tell you no, but that they’ll keep their eyes peeled. You check around corners, behind doors, in conference rooms and offices. You think you accidentally interrupt what was likely a very important meeting, though when you explain you’re looking for a missing child the men in suits all seem to understand.

The longer it goes on, the more sick to your stomach you feel. It’s Sammy. He got separated from his group and probably panicked just like you want to do now. He could be anywhere. He’s tiny, he could be hiding somewhere you’d never even think to look. His parents are going to kill you-

Oscar calls your name. It’s probably odd that you already recognize his voice, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You turn to look at him, and relief washes over you. He’s standing at the end of the hallway, his hand holding onto Sammy’s. You want to march down the hallway to them, but instead you collapse against one of the walls and press your hand to your mouth. Oscar pulls him towards you.

“I found him wandering in the hallway upstairs,” Oscar says. “He said he got lost.”

You nod, crouching down to Sammy’s level. He hides behind Oscar’s legs slightly.

“You’re not in trouble,” you say. “It’s okay. You found a helper, right? We always say that, look for the helpers. It’s okay! But next time you stop to tie your shoe-“ Oscar muffles a laugh behind his hand at that. “-you tell a grown up, okay?”

Sammy nods solemnly. You stand back up.

“Thank you,” you say to Oscar. “I owe you one, big time.”

“No worries,” he says, shrugging. “Knew you must be freaking out, so.”

You reach for Sammy’s hand and head for the cafeteria. To your surprise, Oscar follows. You’re not complaining.

“I’ve only been teaching for a year,” you explain, though you doubt he cares. The nervous energy needs to go somewhere, you suppose. “And I still feel brand new, you know? And school trips- don’t even get me started.”

Oscar laughs. “But field trips were the best part of school.”

“I lost a five year old in a car factory,” you say dryly. “Field trips are much less fun as a teacher.”

Oscar nods in understanding, trying and failing to hide his laughter. You come into view of the cafeteria and start counting heads. There are seventeen other 5 year olds still sitting at the tables. Sammy joins them, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Oscar does too. You pull out your phone and call the other chaperoned who went off to look, and tell them to head back to the cafeteria. With any luck, you might still be able to finish the tour.

“He’s a good kid,” Oscar says fondly, and you smile.

“He’s my favorite,” you admit. “I was a shy kid, too.”

Oscar leaves soon after that with a soft smile and an even softer goodbye. You wish he was the one leading the tour, but you know that would never happen. You’re lucky enough to have had the chance to meet him. He’s the same age as you, and he’s a world famous racecar driver. He’s probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the tour is uneventful. None of your students wander off, and all of them are well behaved. They spot photos of Oscar and Lando in the halls and point excitedly at them, calling out their names. Finally, you’re brought out onto the lawn near the lake, and you give the kids a few minutes to play in the grass. You have the strong urge to lay down on the lawn and let them run until they all pass out. They have boundless energy, but you’re exhausted.

Someone nudges your arm lightly. You turn, expecting it to be a kid or a chaperone, but you come face to face with Oscar again.

“Oh god, did I lose another one?” You ask frantically.

He laughs. “No, no! Just came by to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” you say in understanding. “Thanks again, you know, for finding Sammy and for talking to the kids. I don’t think they’re gonna stop talking about this for ages.”

Oscar’s cheeks are flushed. “I’m glad they had a good time.”

You nod. “I did too, even with all the chaos. You have a really cool job, you know?”

He shrugs. “Not as important as yours. Tiny minds, shaping the future, you know.”

You let out a puff of air. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just struggling to keep the tiny humans alive, let alone teach them anything.”

He’s staring at you with this warm look on his face. You like his smile. There’s something comforting about it.

“Nah, I see the way they look at you. And Sammy introduced himself, you taught him that,” Oscar says. “That’s way more important than shapes or letters.”

Your face grows even hotter. “Thanks, Oscar.”

You see the bus pulling up the road out of the corner of your eye. About time to round the kids up. You turn towards your class, who are running around on the grass.

“Well, I’ve got to get them rounded up to go back, so unless you want to get mobbed by tiny humans you might want to make a run for it,” you say. “They’re distracted now, but they’ve been talking about you all afternoon.”

Oscar laughs brightly. “Yeah. I’ll head out. Um- d’you maybe-“ he pauses, and when you turn to him he shakes his head. “Sorry. Maybe I need to go back to school. Just. Have a good rest of your day. It was lovely meeting you.”

“You too,” you say warmly. “Thanks again.”

He disappears and you watch him go. You wonder what he was going to say- it sounded an awful lot like a question. But he’s gone now, and you’ll probably never see him again, so you try and let it go. By the time you get your class back to the school, it’s almost time for pickup. They’re all half asleep at their desks, absolutely worn out. Parents come by one by one to pick them up, and when Sammy’s dad shows up, you pull him aside and explain everything, the worst feeling in your stomach.

He laughs and shakes his head. “He does that to us all the time. We’ll be on a walk and he just- stops. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sammy wanders over as you’re still processing the fact that his dad isn’t mad. “Guess who I met?” He says, staring up at his dad with a wide grin.

“Who?” His dad asks.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” Sammy says.

“That’s actually true,” you chime in. “I have the pictures to prove it.”

His dad looks at you with wide eyes. “If you’d have led with that, I wouldn’t have even heard you when you said he got lost.”

Despite what Sammy’s dad said, you toss and turn all night. Thankfully, it’s a Friday, so you don’t have to teach the next day. Every time you close your eyes you think of seventeen tiny heads, and one missing, and you feel sick to your stomach again. When you finally do fall asleep, you dream of children disappearing and warm brown eyes paired with an Australian accent. You spend the weekend trying to get your mind off of all of it.

On Monday, Sammy’s mother brings him into the classroom earlier than normal. You’re still turning on the lights and straightening things when they come in. He’s holding a little bouquet of flowers, and your heart melts.

“Sammy wanted to apologize for getting lost,” his mother says. “We know you must’ve been very worried.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, and you take the flowers from him. Then he scurries away to the play area.

“It’s okay,” his mother says. “Peter said you were really beating yourself up over it.”

You shrug. “It’s my worst fear, you know? I hate school trips.”

She laughs. “You know, he really likes you. We were worried, with how quiet he is, that he’d hate school. But you make it fun for him. So thank you.”

You smile, unsure of what to say in response other than, “thank you.”

You turn to your desk to find a vase or a cup for the bouquet, and that’s when you see the other flowers. A mix of white peonies and white roses and greenery, with little orange flowers stuck between all of them. You stop in your tracks. Behind you, Sammy’s mother laughs.

“Got a secret admirer?”

You shake your head uncertainly. You’re not sure how anyone even got flowers into your classroom this early on a Monday. But there they are, sitting proud and pretty. There’s a note tucked into the stems with your name on it, and so you pull the little envelope out and open it.

Hi,

I hope you had a lovely time at the MTC. I really enjoyed meeting you. I’d love to take you out for dinner sometime. Hope this isn’t too forward,

Oscar

His number is written below. You let out a squeak. You can tell she wants to look over your shoulder or ask who it’s from, but she bites her tongue. Sammy’s your favorite student, and his parents are up there, too. But this feels like too much to share with a parent, so you shove the note in your pocket.

“Just a friend,” you lie.

“How sweet,” she says, nodding. “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll take Sammy out to the playground. We just wanted to stop in and chat.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to her with a smile. “And sorry. Again.”

She gives you an amused smile. “It’s okay.”

You carry the note around in your pocket with you the whole day, unsure of what to do about it. Of course, all your students notice the flowers, and they tell all their friends at lunch, who then tell all their teachers. Suddenly everyone seems to need to borrow something from you, sticking their heads into your classroom and just then noticing the flowers. How pretty! Beautiful! Who are they from? You tell them all the same thing. A friend. It’s only when your favorite coworker, Maggie, comes into your classroom later that you finally tell someone.

The kids have all gone home for the day, and you’re cleaning up the last bits of paper from your class activity. She walks in and beelines for the bouquet on the desk.

“Okay, I have a theory,” she says.

“And what’s that?” You ask.

“Orange flowers,” she says. “Someone from your trip on Friday.”

“Papaya,” you correct softly.

“Huh?”

“They call it papaya, not orange,” you say. She gives you a look, one brow raised. “I know. I…”

You dig the envelope out of your pocket and throw it to her. She opens it and gasps, sinking down in your desk chair. She must reread it five times, letting out giddy noises.

“So when are you getting dinner?” She asks.

“I haven’t texted him yet,” you admit.

She stares at you with wide eyes. “He’s your favorite driver and he gave you his number and you didn’t text him?”

“That’s the thing though, Mags,” you say with a sigh. You lean against one of the desks. “He’s an F1 driver. I’m… me.”

“Yeah, and he liked you enough to send flowers to your classroom.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” you shrug. “Those guys date supermodels and actresses and pro athletes. I’m… a teacher.”

“Babe, if you don’t text him you’ll regret it,” she says. “Big time. Just give him a shot.”

You take your flowers home with you, placing them carefully in the passenger seat of your car. You set them on your kitchen counter. They oddly feel like they belong there, like that’s what the room has been missing, though you didn’t know it before. And as you sit there and eat dinner, you take out your phone and type in a new number.

…..

It takes a while for your schedules to line up, but when they finally do, you find that Oscar’s a fun person to go on a date with. Fun might be an understatement, actually. You’ve never had a better time on a date.

You’ve been texting since the day he sent you the flowers, back and forth trying to coordinate a date at first. And then it turned into little funny texts, photos of things throughout your days that made you both smile. You update him on your class, he tells you what chaos Lando’s been causing. He sends memes, and you send him ones back. By the time you actually see him in person again, it’s like you already know him.

You’d been worried that a date with someone like him was going to be a fancy restaurant that you would feel out of place at. But he suggests a little hole in the wall pub that he says is his favorite, and you eagerly agree. You meet him there in a casual outfit, jeans and a cute sweater. He’s dressed in jeans and a sweater too, his hair adorably messy. He has that same warm smile on his face.

The two of you sit and order, and any awkwardness you’d expected just isn’t there. It’s like you’re two old friends, already comfortable with each other. He jokes with you, and you match his dry humor step for step. He’s the only person you’ve ever been on a date with who doesn’t seem to bore of your stories about 5 year olds. His knee knocks against yours under the table, and you don’t pull away. You find yourself leaning closer, actually. You’re longing to reach across the table, to feel his skin against yours.

You look around later and realize it’s been quite a while since the two of you sat down. The restaurant is starting to empty out. Oscar seems to notice the same, and reluctantly asks for the bill, refusing when you try to pay for your own. You both stand up from the table and head for the door. You stop just outside, breathing in the cool night air.

He nods towards a nearby park. “Wanna take a walk?”

You definitely aren’t ready to say goodbye, so you agree. He sees you shiver slightly, and within seconds he drapes his jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm, like him, and it smells like him too. You smile bashfully up at him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. When your hand pops out, he wastes no time in linking your fingers together. You bite back a gasp.

His hand is warm against yours. It sends a shiver up your spine. You hold on tight to him and hope your palm isn’t sweaty.

He turns to look at you. “I had a really good time tonight.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“I was thinking, wondering I guess,” he says, “If you’d maybe want to do this again?”

You slow to a stop under a streetlight. He follows suit. You press your eyes shut.

“Oscar, I… I had a really good time. And I really like you,” you tell him. “But you’re world famous and I’m just me. I just don’t know…”

He squeezes your hand. “We can take it slow.”

You sigh and open your eyes to look at him. The fluorescent light shines off his fluffy hair and his cheekbones. He has a hopeful look in his eye that you’d hate to rid him of.

“You make me feel grounded,” he says. Your heart twists in your chest. “You have since that day at the MTC. You’ve just got this calming presence. And I think you’re funny, and pretty, and- yeah.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease.

He blushes. “Shut up.”

It’s scary, really, to think about. You want to try but he’s a bit intimidating, no matter how well you get along. And the attention that will come from dating him is even scarier. But you think of Sammy, hiding behind your legs, and how you’re trying to teach your students to be big and brave, and how you should try that, too.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “I think you’re pretty too,” you admit, just to watch his cheeks grow redder. A sheepish smile crosses his lips, and he rolls his eyes playfully. “And kind, and funny. So yeah. We should do this again.”

“Cool,” Oscar says.

“Cool,” you agree.

Then he kisses you under the streetlamp, his hand still linked with yours. And yeah, you could get used to this.

…..

Two months later, when Sammy comes into class, he points an excited finger at you.

“I saw you on TV!” He squeaks.

You laugh. “Did you?”

He nods assertively. “My mum said I was probably wrong, but I know it was you. You were holding hands with Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You laugh and put a finger to your lips. He takes the hint, but he laughs the whole way to his seat. You think it might be time to talk to Oscar about going public with your relationship. After all, if the five year olds are catching on, the adults will be soon, too.

When your students find out, they beg you to take them to a race. You think back to the McLaren field trip and decide you’re never, ever taking eighteen 5 year olds anywhere near a race track. That would be bad for everyone’s health. But when Sammy shows up as a grid kid at the next British Grand Prix, that’s all on Oscar. It’s definitely not because he’s your favorite student.

Okay, maybe it is.

a/n: my lovely 🐈❤️‍🩹 anon sent me a photo of Oscar with a grid kid & said: Oscar and Sammy. Please look at this photo I screamed over it. can imagine teacher!reader standing off to the side trying not to cry over how cute Oscar is tbh. anyways thanks for reading!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan

#Oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri fanfic #Oscar piastri fluff #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formual one oneshot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #honeywrites #op81

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magicalmanhattanproject · 3 months

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man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

#sorrelposting #qsmp

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ja3yun · 5 months

Text

Picturesque | P.SH

bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), pet names, fluff, pornography (? sunghoon takes pictures while they do the deed), multiple orgasms, they're sickeningly cute, not proof read, anything i've missed lmk

wc: 4.6k+

synopsis: it's your boyfriend sunghoon's birthday and you want to make it special. your present goes down much better than anticipated.

a/n: hi! it's my best boys' birthday today <3 i know you're all waiting for the next part of tstab but i couldn't resist to post this. its just a one shot because i love him sm and my brain is always thinking about him but esp on his birthday. hope you like it!

You open your eyes to darkness, the only light coming from the orange streetlight outside. Warmth is felt around your waist and down your back as your boyfriend, Sunghoon, sleeps soundly. Looking at the clock you see it read 3.34am. Perfect.

Today was Sunghoon’s 21st birthday. He said he didn’t want a big fuss, simply to have everyone around to your shared apartment for some dinner and drinks. One thing about your boyfriend is that he was a simple guy with simple needs. That didn’t mean you couldn’t decorate the place for him though.

Planning this was a strategic effort even though it seemed simple. Sunghoon was smart, too smart, and if you slipped up even once about your plans he could easily piece it together. It’s not like you were preparing some big extravagant surprise with fireworks and magicians or something, no, you couldn’t even dream of something so lavish. Truth is with both of you being University students with minimum-wage part-time jobs, you were barely making rent. You don’t regret moving in together, it was the right decision, you just wished the government wasn’t filled with incapable idiots and put everyone in a cost-of-living crisis. So you have to make do with what you have, even if you think it’s not enough.

Peeling your lover's arm from your waist you make haste to start decorating the living room. Your flat was small so you had to be extremely quiet, like don’t breathe quiet, but with you and your lack of ability to produce any noise lower than 120 decibels it is going to be a challenge. Sunghoon loved how loud you were compared to his quieter demeanor, making sure to tell you to be as loud as you want and that he would never complain. He especially made this known in your bedroom.

You put on his white shirt from the night before and gingerly shut the door behind you as you vacate the room, leaving Sunghoon sleeping. In your hall cupboard, you had hidden an Asda bag filled with decorations like banners, balloons, and streamers. Their selection of stuff is to be desired and none of it matches but you’ll make it work.

Looking around your living room with a sigh of discontentment you place all the decorations out on your coffee table. “Okay, where do I start?” Your voice is a whisper as you speak to yourself. “I should start with balloons. Yeah, balloons.”

The balloons you wanted were the big number balloons so you could have the 21 as the centrepiece but the very bitter middle-aged lady in Card Factory made it very clear there weren’t any 2’s in store. What kind of place runs out of 2’s? You had to settle for black, white, and gold multi-pack.

You shut your eyes tight and swallow your breath down as the plastic rustles far too loudly. “Shhh.” A warning to the inanimate object is wasted but it’s all you can think to do. This is going to take a while.

As the morning goes on you’ve managed to blow up the balloons and group them into 3-a-piece, hanging them up on each side of the big window and in the corners. You thought you were a goner when one of the white balloons almost escaped your grasp and started flying around the room but you grabbed it just in time. Checking the time on the clock you see it’s 4.30am. It really took you an hour for the balloons. Banners were next on your list but they should be easier surely.

Grabbing the automne you’ve been using as a ladder you successfully put 3 banners up in 20 minutes. If you had the time you’d celebrate but you still had so much to do before he gets up. “One more.” You place your hands on your hips and blow some hair out of your face as you smile. It’s ugly, it doesn’t match the others at all. The banner is silver with just the letters ‘Happy Birthday’ held together by a tacky white ribbon. You really wish you could do better than this but alas here you are climbing up to situate it above the TV. This is a little trickier since you have to stretch to reach the wall because of the TV unit that sticks out.

You fail to notice your boyfriend leaning by the doorframe with his arms crossed and a cheeser of a smile on his face. He wanted to see how long it would take you to notice his presence but he thinks he’ll be waiting a long time. You’re too engrossed in your task to even hear his footsteps coming up behind you.

“Babe?” His deep morning voice scares you and you stumble on the automne, almost falling backward. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he registers what's happening and rushes to catch you. “Shit, Y/N. You okay?” He places one of his warm hands on your backside and the other on your knee, stroking them both gently to make sure you’re okay.

Only your heart was not okay, thumping loudly as a rush of heat spreads through your chest from the adrenaline of nearly crashing into the table behind you. When you calm down you laugh and lean on his shoulder to step down. “I’m okay.”

Now you’ve properly come to you bring your hands to your mouth as your eyes widen. “You’re not supposed to be up this early!” As if it’s his fault you slap his chest and he chuckles in disbelief.

“Sorry, babe, if I had known you were planning to surprise me I would have slept longer.” Oh. He’s right but still. Not fair.

“I didn’t even get to put up the streamers or that shitty banner.” Dramatically, you wave your arms around and scowl at the devil banner. “It was supposed to be finished so when you walked in I could go ‘Ta-Da!’ and you would be all like ‘Oh my god, Y/N. You’re the best girlfriend ever. This is incredible.’” Sunghoon lets out a loud laugh and brings his hands to your face.

“Okay, okay, let me walk back in and we’ll do it again.” You pout at his suggestion but shake your head as much as you can considering he’s now squishing your cheeks.

“There’s no point now.” Sunghoon sees your disappointment and he matches your saddened expression.

“I’m sorry, babe. You worked so hard on this and I ruined it.”

“Yeah, you did.” You joke while he places a kiss on your forehead and lets you go.

Sunghoon looks around the room at all your efforts. His eyes are filled with admiration and love, everything you did was his favourite but somehow you top it every time. All that energy you spent wasting on worry because you couldn’t give him more was so silly because he was so appreciative that you would even take the time to do any of this, especially when he said he didn’t want a fuss.

His eyes meet yours and he sighs, “Beautiful, you didn’t have to do all this.” You are so busy between all your Uni work and grueling shifts at the restaurant that he doesn’t even know when you had time to get any of this stuff. “It’s just my birthday.”

“It’s your 21st! It’s special!” You protest. “I would have done something more extra but,”

He knows. It’s tight right now between bills and time but none of that matters to him, not right now, not when he has you beside him. “Babe it’s perfect, really. I like the uh,” he points between the decorations, “the green and pink banner and the gold balloons, brings a certain class to the room.” He jokes and you hide your face in embarrassment in his chest, mumbling a little ‘It’s all they had’. “Y/N I love it.” He bends down a little until his face is just below yours, “Seriously. Thank you.”

All the trouble was worth it just to see his smile right now. You peck his lips, “Happy Birthday, Hoonie.” Circling your arms around him as he towers back over you, he kisses the top of your head and then pulls away slightly to kiss your lips. Sunghoon feels so loved by you. The kiss is filled with love and desire so when you pull back he audibly groans.

“Do you want your present?” Not unlike you, but you’re nervous. You had been saving up for his gift since February so no pressure or anything. Inside you’re screaming, your brain working overtime in the anxious department. What if he hates it? “Or do you want to wait a bit?”

“If you’re the present then I’ll take it right now.” He captures your lips back into a kiss. If he wasn’t so into this kiss he would have noticed your playful eye roll. Sunghoon had the impeccable ability to make you have butterflies in your stomach while also frustrating you at how horny he is. He truly is still just a man.

“Hoonie I’m serious.” You pull away and he sighs.

“So am I.” His large hands grope your ass to pull you towards him. When he looks at your face he removes his hands from your body and holds them up defensively. “Okay, I get it. But I told you nothing crazy.”

Sunghoon didn’t care for gifts and that’s why giving this one to him made you feel like you were going to throw up and cry. He was either going to love it or be mad that you bought it.

“Close your eyes.” Doing as he’s told he screws his eyes shut and you turn to dig through the automne. It wasn’t the safest place to leave it considering it took for him to look for one letter or magazine to find it, but it’s better than nothing. The present is perfectly wrapped with glossy white paper, accented with a gold ribbon, you wanted it all to be perfect. “Put out your hands.”

Once his hands are flat you place the box gently in his hands and he opens his eyes. His smile falls a little as he looks between the box and you. “Y/N this is big.” He’s skeptical and his face doesn’t hide it which sends your anxiety through the roof. “Please don’t tell me it’s something exp-”

“Can you just appreciate it and open it please?” He’s hurt by your words. Of course he cherishes anything you do or buy for him, he just doesn’t want you wasting money on him and with the size of this box, he fears you might have.

“Babe of course I appreciate it, you know I do.” You pout and push the box to his chest.

“Then open it and tell me you love it. And don’t get mad.” When you say that he shuts his eyes. “I promise it’s nothing like mad expensive. Scouts honour.” You hold a hand to your chest and one in the air.

Sitting down on the couch he unwraps the gift and sees a plain black box. His fingertips feel the edges before he opens it and his eyes widen bigger than they ever have before, he doesn’t move.

He hates it. Obviously he does. You bite your nails looking at him slowly take out the gift and examine it. “Y/N this is..” He trails off, looking intently at it.

Last year Sunghoon had gotten back into photography, just a hobby, nothing major, but he found a real passion in it this year. He carried the thing everywhere, taking pictures of everything he found pretty - most of the memory card was filled with you. Nonetheless, he didn’t have a case for it, and considering it cost him like 2 months' worth of rent, and that was it being second-hand, you felt like he needed to protect it properly.

So you got him a custom leather case to fit his vintage Minolta TC-1 camera, his initials embroidered on the front lefthand side. The Etsy seller was even nice enough to throw in a strap that matched. You were lying when you said it wasn’t super costly, it did take months to save up for, but as you see his shocked face change into one filled with glee, you know it was worth it.

“Y/N, this is too much.” The smile on his face said otherwise, it was just perfect. “Babe, seriously, this must have cost you a shit ton of money.”

Shrugging you play it off, “Nah, got a good deal on it.”

Like a child at Christmas, he stands up and strides over to embrace you, the hug said everything he couldn’t. There were no words to describe how much he loved it, how much he loved you.

“Let me go get my camera!” Sunghoon was easily excitable and as he ran to your bedroom to retrieve his camera you could only laugh. The pitter-patter of his feet getting faster the closer he got back to the living room was the cutest thing you have ever seen. Struggling to get the camera in the case due to excitement, you walked over and took the case from his hands, “Here, babe.” You slot it in and thank the heavens it fits and in hindsight, you probably should have checked before giving it to him.

“Babe, I love it so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses all over your face. He was such a cutie, you never understood why people were intimidated by him. But then again, with a face so gorgeous who wouldn’t be? And you were the only one that really got to see this side of him.

“I’m glad you like it, Hoonie.” He corrects you and repeats the word ‘love’ which makes you smile.

Turning the camera on he brings it to his face and adjusts it. You take the opportunity of his preoccupied state to clear up some of the mess from the decorations and his present. You contemplate whether you should attempt to finish decorating but you don’t see the point, maybe finish it before the others come over.

A shutter sound echoes in the quiet room and you spin around to see your birthday boy smiling widely as the camera is pointed at you.

“Hoon, stop! I’m not even dressed yet.”

Your words seem to spark a mischievous glint in his eye and you have no clue what he is thinking. Sunghoon slowly walks over to you, “You know,” he wears the strap of the camera around his neck and takes the rubbish from your hands and discards it to the couch, “That’s not a bad idea.” Perplexment shows on your face. When did anything you just say sound like an idea? “I could take your picture.”

“Babe you always take my picture.”

“Not while I’m fucking you I haven’t.”

Your jaw hits the floor. For the first time in your life, you are speechless, utterly gobsmacked. “No way.” You’re a generally shy person despite your loud personality so you would never think to do anything like this.

“Come on, Y/N.” He strokes your hair and uses a lower octave voice to try and persuade you, “They’ll just be for me, literally no one else will see them. You know I would never show them to anyone.”

Evidently he wouldn’t, he doesn’t even like it when you both go out dressed up nice and guys even think about looking at you. This was for him when you were on long shifts or in classes. Something he could use to jerk off to when his wank bank of memories won’t suffice.

He’s too persuasive because the next thing you know you’re taking his hand and pulling him to the bedroom. Glancing around the surroundings you sigh. “Can I tidy up first?”

“Why?” He laughs confused.

“I just don’t want the pictures taken with all this mess lying around, it’s un-aesthetically pleasing.”

His quiet almost silent laugh rings in your ears and you smile defeated. “Baby, do you think for one fucking second I am going to be looking at the slippers on the ground or Mr. Giles in the corner.” Mr. Giles, your childhood teddy bear, has seen far too much of what has gone on in these four walls but why is it when Sunghoon mentions his name you want to cuddle him and apologise?

“Mr. Giles is camera shy okay?” Your boyfriend picks him up, places a kiss on his nose, and places him facing the wall.

“There. See.” He pushes you to lie on the bed, “Now, let me do my job, yeah?” His hands are on your waist in no time, the camera swinging from his neck now lays on your stomach as he bends down. The coldness of the object makes you shiver but you’re soon heating up when you feel his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and pull them down. You hear him mutter ‘So fucking beautiful’ as his face is level with your core. Thinking he’s just going to get right down to business, you spread your legs but he stands up. “I need to take a before shot.”

Click

He takes pictures as you lay there in only his shirt, some at a lower angle to get your perfect pussy in focus. His eyes are telling you he’s trying to refrain from just delving in, from absolutely ingurgitating you, it’s a patience he usually doesn’t have.

“On your knees for me, beautiful.” Being obedient like always, you do what he says. “Gonna get you to suck my cock, okay?” You don’t wait to be told what to do next because your hands are reaching for his boxers to pull them down. Cocks are either fucking beautiful or ugly, and Sunghoon had the prettiest cock of them all. His reddening tip slaps his stomach and you mewl out loud. “Don’t show off for the camera baby, okay? Just do it the way you always do.”

Sunghoon loves the way you lovingly lap his cock, trying to fit it all in your mouth but he’s so big you can’t take it all the way in without choking. It’s cute to him how eager to please him you are.

You sit your hands on his hips and lick a stripe from his balls to the tip before taking his tip in your mouth. “Fuck.” You hear Sunghoon breathe out and it makes you look up. This is the moment you wish you could take the camera and snap a picture of him. Maybe you need to suggest that at a later date.

Right now it’s Sunghoon’s birthday and it’s whatever he wants. You suck his cock in earnest, grabbing the base to cover the part of his cock you can’t fit into your mouth. He’s like you’re favourite meal and while you used to hate sucking dick there’s something so pleasing about him and the way he tastes.

Forgetting his original intentions he grabs your hair and tightens it into a tight pony, pulling at it. “B-babe, so fucking good at this.” It’s not until he looks down at you working him up and down he sees the camera. He uses both hands to put you into focus and takes a few pictures. Some are just a close-up of your lips enveloping his shaft, others are simple POV shots. It’s when you look up as you hear the shuttering from the camera that he starts really taking the pictures with determination to capture how beautiful you look in this moment. The eye contact to the camera has his chest growling. “That’s my pretty girl, made for the camera, huh?”

He wasn’t big on dirty talk but right now he felt like a whole different person, and this person wanted you to hear how good you made him feel.

Picking up the pace you start to slabber down your chin, losing yourself in the action. Sunghoon is so close to cumming that when he pulls you off his cock he whimpers. You are both panting and clouded with lust, your plumped-up lips aren’t helping Sunghoon, and his leaking cock isn’t helping you.

“You’re a natural on this camera, babe.” His hand reaches down to wipe the saliva and particles of his cum from your lips. Click. Another perfect moment. “Can’t wait for you to see it from my point of view.”

“Sunghoon, I love you but I am not looking at those ever.” There is a big part of you that actually would like to see it, but you’re too embarrassed to even imagine what you look like.

“You’re missing out, beautiful. Nothing more picturesque than you choking on my cock.” Sunghoon says the filthy sentence so casually and it flips your stomach. “Lay down for me.”

Removing the camera from his frame he places it on the bedside table. Is he finished taking pictures? “Hoon wha-”

Sunghoon’s face is in between your legs and licking up your folds before you can ask your question but his actions answer it anyway. If he was your favourite meal, you were certainly his. Fuck, you were his favourite everything. He was sucking your clit so suddenly you arched your back, the action pressing your pussy further into his face which elicited a hum of approval from him. The sucking was harsh, overwhelming, so much so you hadn’t even noticed how his fingers lightly trailed your thigh.

His palm pushed your right leg open further, his mouth never letting up on your sensitive bud.

“Hoonie,” A moan of his name leaves your lips, your hand grabbing him and pushing it towards your entrance. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but still listens to your silent request, his middle finger circling your opening.

The birthday boy wishes he could do this and take pictures because he knows you look so fucking beautiful right now. Even the image in his head of you arched in his work shirt, mouth agape and moaning, could make him cum right now. Instead, it just fuels him so keep going at your clit, throwing in some light nibbles every so often.

Slipping his middle finger into you he curls it exactly how you like it. After 2 years of fucking you, he’d say he could easily get a PhD in how to please you, certainly how to make you cum. And what you like is way more than just one finger, so he adds two more sending you crazy.

“Fuck, fuck, Hoonie, so good.” The moans and profanities leaving your lips make him smirk, knowing you’re close. He makes his tongue rigid and uses it to stimulate your nub, going fast and hard in rhythm with his fingers and within a minute your thighs are clamping his head and your coating his tongue with your cum. “Shit, my god, m’cumming.”

He almost laughs at you because of course you’re coming, he’s tasting it right now and it’s better than any meal or cake he’s going to get today.

Your trembling thighs open slightly and he peaks his head up to see you, quickly grabbing his camera. “What a fucking sight,” Sunghoon whispers before clicking. Your arm is laid over your face, his shirt is held together by one button in the middle of your torso, and most importantly your cunt is glistening. He wants to blow this picture up on a canvas and hang it in the living room, but you would never agree and his friend would never leave your house.

As you catch your breath, Sunghoon crawls to hover over you. “Babe you look so fucking good right now.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You laugh and finally bring your arm away from your eyes. Your essence still on his lips somehow makes you wetter than you already are.

“You’re so funny.” His sarcastic tone makes you laugh harder. “Now I need to make a decision

“What?”

“Do I want your pussy filled with my cum, or it splattered on your stomach?"

Oh, you might just have a second orgasm right now. It’s not implausible at this moment. “Well, you have my permission for anything,” You kiss his lips, moaning as he instantly sticks his tongue down your throat. Breaking the moment you bite your lip, “And y’know, if you can cum twice you could get a double shot.”

The camera is pushed back on the table and his dick is touching your entrance, “I’ll make it a surprise what one comes first then, huh?” With that, he’s sliding into your heat, both of you gasping in unison. You’re tight around his cock, your walls dragging themselves perfectly along his hard shaft.

“Shit, babe, feel so fucking good.” If he could record this moment and make it 4DX he would hire out a Cineworld screen every day and watch it on repeat.

Thrusting into you with purpose, one of his big hands gently encloses your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air but enough to have you roll your eyes back. It’s taking all his willpower not to just fuck you rough and hard because if he does he’ll cum instantly and that’s just not going to happen, not on his watch. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect.” He brings his mouth to your ear, “My pretty girl, I love you so much.”

You cry out in love and pleasure as he starts to pick up the pace, his cock hitting your soft spot every time. To him, you were the only present he ever needed.

Sunghoon nibbles your earlobe, keeping his rhythm steady, continuing to whisper in your ear, “You wanna cum?”

“Yes, fuck yes please, Hoon.” He takes your hand from your throat and places it beside your head to give him more stability as he relentlessly fucks into you, his lips sucking in yours as he loses control, his only thought right now is to make you come undone on his dick.

From the last orgasm you had it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming again, the aftershocks still buzzing and only adding to the sensation. You’re gripping his arms and crawling down them, legs shaking as you loosely wrap them around him. There’s no energy left in your body so as he fucks you deep, your spent body only moves due to the power of his thrusts. “You’re doing so good, I’m nearly there, babe.” He mumbles into your neck as he nuzzles into you.

You’re getting a tiny bit overstimulated but you know he’s close so you bear with it, mustering up all you have left to whisper, “Come on, Hoonie, don’t you wanna get the perfect shot?”

His seed fills you instantaneously as your words echo in his ear, his body jittering as he coats your walls, his hips losing their rhythm and coming to a standstill.

Heavy breathing and banging heartbeats are all you both hear as you compose yourselves. Sunghoon falls on top of you, his softening cock still buried inside you. Rubbing soothing circles on his back makes him smile widely and look at you. “Thank you, babe. For the present.”

“You’re welcome.” Lazily you plant a feather kiss on his nose. You reach over and grab the camera, “Well, you got a picture to take.”

Smirking, Sunghoon takes the camera and slides out of you, taking in the view of his cum dripping out of you onto the bedsheets. It’s a work of art. “Pose for me, pretty girl.” You open your legs a little wider and try your hardest to look sexy for him.

The camera clicks a few times, each shot more beautiful than the last. You’re his muse, his everything, his best birthday present.

“Now,” He puts the camera away and lays on you once again, “I think for my next birthday I might ask for a camcorder.”

#sunghoon smut #enha smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha x reader #aj writes #i love him sm i hope he has the best birthday ever fr

1K notes · View notes

leclucklerc · 7 months

Text

Hard Carry CL16 - 00.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Summary: When you're talking about one of the greats in Formula One, y/n is up there.

Word Count: 1.3K

Masterlist Next

Drive to Survive, Season 1 Episode 3

It's all about Porsche

"There's just something about Porsche that attracts you."

The scene cuts into Porsche's jet black F1 car zooming pass the screen in a top speed. The sound of the loud roar from the engine, as well as the checkered flag that was being waved as the car glide through the finish line is a sight to behold.

"Their team is new in Formula one," said Will Buxton as he leaned back on his seat. The pitch black backdrop is almost poetic considering which team they're discussing right now. "They debuted in 2012, and never looked back ever since."

At this, the scene cuts into a compilation of Formula one announcer announcing many of Porsche's achievements. From the constructor championships, to the world driver championships. An intimidating music can be heard playing in the background before it switches back into the interviewer room. Though, this time, it's not Will Buxton who sat there.

A man with greying hair and pitch black shirt could be seen. There's a small logo of Porsche on his breast pocket. Besides that, the shirt is void from any decoration. Just like how the man expression is void from any emotions.

"Hello," started the man, eyes zeroing straight towards the camera. "I'm Herman Muller, the team principal for the Porsche Royale Formula 1 team."

The scene changed into Porsche's Formula One garage. The pitch black theme with golden accent could be seen everywhere as the mechanics and engineers huddled along the car that they had created for the past year.

"We are a German based team," said Herman as many compilations appeared on the scene. Many of those, are the team celebrating their wins. "A fairly new player in the game, but a tough one, certainly." His English is loaded with German accent, though it only made him seems a bit intimidating.

Constructor championship.

Driver championship.

Many trophies could be seen lining the wall of their factory back in Leipzig. Pictures of their Formula One cars too could be seen littered around the wall.

"When Porsche came, it brought a lot of excitement," said Will as he gripped his hands together. There's excitement evident on his eyes as he began the tale. "There are a lot of buzz here and there about the team. After all, it was the first time FIA had decided to expand the sport." As he said this, clips of articles and old interviews from back in 2012 can be seen playing.

The decision that FIA made to add one more team in the sport after decades. It's for the fans, they had said. To add more excitement and enjoyment for the sport.

"I think our team motto is the reason why we can become like this," said Herman as the camera switched back to him. "Complete domination."

Sounds of machine whirring could be heard as a clip from recent grand prix could be seen. It's a fight between Porsche and Red Bull. A fight, that the pitch black car wins easily.

"Porsche managed to become one of F1 top team during their debut year, and they only ever skyrocketed ever since then," continue Will, he sounds every bit amazed at that. "Every year, without fail, they will always become a favorite to win the championship."

"It's a rocket ship," said Herman as the scene changed towards mechanics and engineers did their adjustment towards their car in the garage. There's a serious air around them as they continue their job. "I like to think that we're building a rocket ship, and not cars."

A compilation of the pitch black car zooming in front of the camera could be seen.

"Besides the complete monstrosity that they call car," said Will, eyes full of amusement. "Their driver lineup is, is simply incredible."

Two people could be seen walking through the grid in a dramatic slow motion. Only their bottom half could be seen, both wearing dark colored pants and sneakers.

"We have the most amazing driver lineup in the grid," mused out Herman as the scene changed back to him, letting out a small laugh. His previous lack of emotions has changed as a clear mirth could be seen shining through hid eyes. "A really unique one."

Well, unique is an understatement.

Will laughed, head nodding. "Their number one driver is probably the favorite driver is most definitely the favorite driver on the track-"

The scene changed into many race compilations, as a pitch black car with the number 1 could be seen overtaking Ferrari's familiar deep red car as well as Mercedes's during their highest height. Checkered flag could be seen waving around as the car zoomed past it, as it was announced as the winner of the race.

"And the favorite off the track."

Kring! Kring!

At the familiar sound of a bicycle bell, many turned their gazes towards the source of it. Almost immediately, their faces broke into smile as they laid their eyes on the person riding the vehicle. The camera is positioned at the back, showcasing long hair with dark Porsche hat on top of it.

As she made her way, many people greeted the woman in a friendly greetings. Some drivers like Daniel Ricciardo or Lewis Hamilton too could be seen waving or trying to make small talk with the rider of the bicycle. With those small interactions, it's clear that she's a popular face here in the grid.

The scene changed towards the interview room where a woman could be seen sitting on the chair. She looks oddly comfortable. As if there's no whole production crew staring at her just beyond the camera.

"Can I start?" she asked, voice soft. Long hair styled perfectly and bright eyes could be seen staring straight towards the camera.

"Yes, yes, start when you feel ready," voiced out the producer.

Said woman laughed, eyes crinkling and cheek rosy. "Well, hello, everyone, Netflix, and new Formula One fans, hopefully," grinned the woman as a round of small laughter rang through the room. Pearly white teeth could be seen under the painted lips. "I'm y/n l/n and I drive for Porsche Formula One team."

"Please say the full team name," said the producer.

Y/n blinked, before the grin on her face widened. "Ah, I completely forgot what it is. Better call Herman, no?"

After that introduction, a camera that was being placed on top of Porsche's garage as the car did a pitstop could be seen showcasing the Drive to Survive opening.

The scene cuts back towards the dark colored interview room. The name y/n l/n now could be seen besides the female as the title as Porsche's driver could be seen underneath it. Besides that, another addition also can be seen.

Three times world champion.

It's a title that many would salivate at the mere thought of. The very dream of every driver that ever graced Formula One.

Various news outlet appeared at this. News anchor announcing y/n's debut back in 2012. Of her, being the first female formula one driver in decades. Of her, as the youngest person to actually managed to snagged one of the most coveted seats in motorsport. Of her, breaking many unseen boundaries and limitations that the sport had put.

A photo of her on the cover of Times Magazine could be seen. Posing comfortably in front of her Formula One car as she holds her helmet.

"Y/n is probably the biggest star that F1 has ever produced," said Will as the screen shows Y/n's instagram page with a whooping 50 million followers. And counting. "She's completely charismatic woman-"

A scene where y/n is mingling with people in the paddock was seen. Laughters could be heard as a response to whatever she said. They seems magically charmed and completely fixated on the woman.

"- a fashion icon-"

Y/n now can be seen in Paris Fashion Week, sitting front row with various celebrities near her.

"- life of the party -"

A ecstatic y/n could be seen spraying champagne to other fellow drivers. The atmosphere is light and full of teasing and banters.

"- And of course, a damn good driver."

The scene changed into a dramatic turn that the woman made in one of the corners. The screeching sound of tires meeting gravel could be heard as she propelled into full speed, easily overtaking cars that stood in front of her. A scene where she was crowned as that year world champion also can be seen as she celebrated with the team.

It changed back to the interview room, where the woman could be seen completely relaxed as she smiled.

"Do you think you're a good driver?" asked the producer.

Y/n tilted her head before various clips appeared.

"AND Y/N L/N IS THIS YEAR WORLD CHAMPIOOON-!" She could be seen spraying champagne.

"TWO YEARS IN A ROW! Y/N L/N IS A WORLD CHAMPIOON-!" A clip of her spraying champagne once again was shown.

"AND YET, SHE MANAGED TO TAKE BACK HER CROWN AS A WORLD CHAMPION!" And another clip of her spraying champagne towards other fellow drivers could be seen.

The loud scene full of euphoria and loud yells are cut as y/n appeared back in the interview room, a small smile on her face. The sudden change into a tense silence is a bit shocking.

"Well," she started, laughing. "I guess I'm a pretty good driver?" y/n stopped a bit. "Can definitely become an Uber as a side hustle."

#formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x reader #formula one x y/n #charles leclerc x you

1K notes · View notes

hiddenonyx · 7 months

Text

Obey Me! Characters Walking in on MC Showering

Notes: fem MC!, suggestive content, nudity

Word count: 3.4K - about 290 per character

A/N: You'll probably be able to tell, but this was written over the course of like...3 months? So it's a little disjointed and you can most certainly tell who I was more inspired for. Thank to Pen for giving me ideas for Simeon and Solomon. -------------

After a little planning mishap, you end up sharing a hotel room (and bed) with them. It’s a little awkward, but you’re too tired to truly care. Right now, you really just want a shower. Any other thoughts be damned.

—

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not gonna take forever, calm down," you answer back to your temporary roommate. "It's just a shower to refresh a little."

You shift your half folded clothes in your arms so you can close the bathroom door. You don't bother to lock it - after all they'll have to know that you're still in the bathroom if you're not out in the room, right? You set your clothes on the oversized countertop, before going over to the shower. It's a simple rectangle shower with a glass door, but isn't so horrible small that you're crowding yourself inside of it. After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to even turn the damn thing on, you get the water running and turn away to strip as the water warms up. But before you step in, you grab your phone and set the all important music. You turn it up so it's just loud enough to contend with the noise of the shower, set it on the counter nearby and step in. A sigh escapes you as the warm water sprays on your skin. Maybe you'll take a little longer than you said...

—

Lucifer

He watches you disappear into the bathroom, not believing you when you told him it'll be a "quick" shower (40 minutes is not quick, MC). He goes back to reading through the tourist pamphlet for a factory, allowing the soft noise of the shower and distant music lull him into a feeling of soft relaxation. It's not until nearly an hour later that he realizes that you're still in the shower. Mild concern paints his face as he stands up and makes his way over to the closed bathroom door. The sound of your music is a little louder now and he can hear you humming along.

"MC?" he asks softly, gently tapping his knuckles against the door. He repeats the actions a little louder when you don't answer. When you still don't answer, Lucifer hesitates, before giving a resigned sigh and opening the door.

His question of if you're alright dies on his tongue as he's greeted with the image of your perfect naked body partially obscured by condensation on the glass door. Your back is towards him as you hum along to a song, hands busy washing your hair, completely unaware that Lucifer's walked in on you. He's frozen to the spot for a few moments, his mind screaming at him to close the door and walk away like nothing's happened, but his body simply won't respond. He's stuck staring at your gorgeous form for what seems like an eternity.

Then you start to turn around. Lucifer's body suddenly wakes up and he damn near slams the door off its hinges as he hurries to close it. You startle and call after him, confused and so blissfully unaware, "Lucifer? Was that you? Is something wrong?"

—

Mammon

He grumbles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. He knows that you'll take forever, and there's nothing to do in this tiny shoe box-excuse of a room. He pouts a little more - how dare you leave the Great Mammon bored?! When he hears the shower start and the music kick up, he knows you're not going to come back right away (a small part of him hoped that you would forget something and have to come back out so that he could see you again).

Mammon looks around the room, eyes falling on your open bag. His eyes dart back to the closed door before he shrugs and starts to go through it. He's mildly interested by all the little knick-knacks and souvenirs that you've kept from him and his brothers. He's just about to go through your wallet when a loud "thud" followed by your muffled cursing startles him. He bolts up from your stuff and looks to the bathroom, a guilty look painted on his face. But the door remains closed. Confused and a little concerned, Mammon approaches.

"MC? W-what was that?" he calls, but unbeknown to him, you can't hear him over the shower and your music. He pauses at the door and strains his ears to try and hear a response. When none comes, he starts to get nervous. Did you fall? Is that what the loud noise was? Are you injured?

More than a little panicked, Mammon hurriedly opens the door, "MC-!" His voice dies on his tongue as you lock eyes. You're putting some kind of product on your hand (presumably to spread somewhere else), and fully naked. The condensation on the glass does a poor job of censoring your breasts and the curves of your waist. You look at him, surprised and confused, and perhaps a little embarrassed - he however, is bright red and stuck staring. It isn't until you start to say something that Mammon lets out a pathetic yelp and slams the door closed.

—

Levi

Levi gives you a disbelieving look at your “I’ll be quick” claim, but shrugs it off; after all he has to do some daily tasks in “Ruri-Chan Flowers vs. Devils: Dance Dance Battle!”. He hears you start your shower just as the game loads. He cracks his knuckles before curling into his best gamer posture.

Levi glances at the time as he closes the app - almost 2 hours later. He winces; he hadn’t intended to spend longer than 30 minutes doing his tasks, but a new event had started and he just had to get the ice queen skin for Ruri-Chan (it looks so elegant on her!). He listens for a second and doesn’t hear the shower running anymore. He looks around for you in the room (perhaps you entered the room when he was in the “zone” and didn’t notice), and is confused when he doesn’t see you. Curiously, he makes his way to the bathroom door and listens again: silence.

“M-MC?” Levi asks nervously. When you don’t answer he opens the door tentatively. He’s greeted with the lovely embarrassing view of you mid change; wearing only your underwear. He’s frozen to the spot, staring at how your bra barely contains your breasts, at how your panties accent and clings to your natural curves.

“L-Levi?” You ask, slightly embarrassed by his staring. His face is so red you’re worried he’ll pass out. After a few more seconds his brain seems to catch up and he covers his face and practically runs back to the bed, screaming apologies.

—

Satan

He gives you a hum of acknowledgement at your announcement and turns the page of his new book. He hears the bathroom door click closed. He lets out a soft sigh of relaxation before settling fully in the chair. He knows that he'll have plenty of time to read in peace and quiet while you shower.

Satan is fully immersed in his book when you call his name from the bathroom. He startles and almost bends the page. He looks over at the door, answering you back, "Yes?"

"I forgot my pajamas on my bed. Could you bring them here, please?" Your voice is timid and embarrassed. He sighs softly - you make him do things that he wouldn't do for anyone else.

"Yes. Just a second." He gently (and carefully) sets his book down on the table before standing up and going over to your bed. Your cute sleeping clothes are folded nicely in a single space (which he appreciates the neatness of). He picks them up just as gently as he had put his book down before walking over to the bathroom.

He raps his knuckle gently against the door and waits for your answer. He doesn't hear the music or the water running, so he tries again slightly louder. When you fail to answer again, he gently opens the door and steps inside.

He's greeted with the view of you wrapped in a towel that just barely covers the important parts. Your breasts are nearly spilling over the top of the white towel (how the towel even remains wrapped around in the first place is a wonder). And the towel just barely covers the upper most part of your thighs. You scroll absently on your phone while you wait, unaware of Satan's presence. He stares for a few seconds, struggling to collect himself (how dare you be this nonchalant), before he softly clears his throat.

You look over and give him an apologetic smile before reaching out to take the offered clothes. Satan closes the door and does his best to muffle the sigh he lets out. This is going to be a long trip.

—

Asmodeus

He really wants to ask you if he can join you, but he figures that if you wanted him to join you, you would've extended an invitation. Perhaps you simply need a little bit to sort through your thoughts and memories of the day (which he understands - he does that too). Instead, he busies himself doing his skincare routine out in front of his travel mirror. It's far from the best, but it'll do for the night.

Asmo hums idly to your muffled playlist, enjoying the odd domestic tone of the night. The situation is odd, with having to share a bed, he muses, but at least he can fall asleep right next to your cute self. It isn't until he's about to complete his last step in his extensive routine that he notices that your music has stopped. When did it stop? How long has the room been silent? Asmo strains his ears, but can't hear any other sounds.

"Little dove? Are you done?" he calls softly. When you don't answer him, he gets up, and goes over to the bathroom door. He knocks, calling again, "Dove?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm done....hey, umm...could you help me? T-there's this knot in my hair."

Asmo smiles softly before opening the door. He pays little mind to the fact that you've somehow managed to wrap and tie the hotel towel around your body (maybe you used a little magic), and instead focus on this knot of wet hair you're struggling to untangle. He gently takes the brush from you, his fingers ever so softly grazing your's, and gently pulls it from your hair. He hums as he begins to gently brush your hair out.

—

Beelzebub

He nods in acknowledgement before popping another piece of candy in his mouth. It's some human world candy; some of the pieces are sweet and some of them are tart, and Beel never quite knows which kind he'll get. He sits on the bed, simply enjoying the snack and thinking - thinking about the day you've spent together.

He's content for the time, but a loud "bampoof" followed by language Beel's only ever heard come from an angry Levi makes him pause mid chew. He swallows hard before rising from the bed.

"MC? Are you okay?" His voice is soft but urgent. He rests his hand on the door, listening. He can still hear the water running, your music playing and...your mumbled curses. He breathes a sigh of relief; at least you're not unconscious. But still...

He opens the door gently, eyes cast to the tiled floor trying to respect your privacy. "MC? A-are you okay? What happened?"

You huff and rise to your feet, grabbing the offending soap bar that had slipped from your grip and caused you to fall after it. "Yeah, I'm fine...more or less. Hit my head slightly, " you mumble before looking over at Beel. His face, even staring at the title, is dusted pink. You can't help but smile and giggle. He blushes harder, before glancing at you.

"Yeah, Beel, I'm fine. I'll be out in a few, okay?" you give him your biggest, most convincing smile. He nods, his face even redder now, before closing the door.

—

Belphegor

He makes a half-assed noise to acknowledge you before covering his eyes with his arm. As long as he wakes up next to you, he doesn't really care how long you take. As he drifts off, he hears your music start playing. Despite the peppy-upbeatness it lulls him to sleep all the same.

Belphie has no idea how much time has passed when he wakes up, but he does know that you're not in bed with him. Grumbling, he practically slides himself out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom door. He grumbles, some sort of half asleep noise, before unceremoniously opening the door.

"Belphie!" You squeak, scrambling to wrap yourself in a towel, smearing lotion on the white cloth. He sleepily sways towards you - too asleep to notice your state of undress. He wraps his arms around you and sleepily nuzzles your neck, mumbling something about you being late. You're frozen to place, one hand gently touching on Belphie's shoulder.

"Belphie." you say again, holding your breath. He makes a noise of some kind but continues to lean into you. You both stand there for a few minutes before Belphie raises his face to look at you. His eyes seem a little clear and he gives you a questioning look, "What? You weren't in bed," he pouts.

"Belphie...I'm naked."

He stares at you and blinks dumbly for a second before his sleepy brain catches up. His face turns red and he bites his lip. Reluctantly he pulls away and looks at the floor.

"S-sorry. I-I'll go." You giggle and smile, "It's okay. I'll be out in a few more minutes okay? And then I'll give you all the cuddles you want."

—

Diavolo

He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a soft hum and smile. He turns his attention to the small smattering of various important documents that need his attention and signature (even on "vacation" the poor prince can never seem to escape his work). He sighs and silently debates if Barbatos's lecture would be worth ignoring his work for the time being. Diavolo glances back at the bathroom door before picking up his pen - it's not like he had anything else to do while he waited.

He's almost finished with his paperwork - actively in the process of signing the last document - when he's startled by a unusually loud "FUCK" from the bathroom. Diavolo spares only a half a second to frown in annoyance at the smeared lettering before setting the pen down and getting up.

"MC? Are you-?" he starts as he approaches the door. He strains his ears to listen, hearing movement from inside and more importantly your grumbles of irritation. "MC?" he calls again, waiting by the shut door, concern worming its way into his expression. You don't answer, but he can still hear you moving.

Carefully he turns the door handle and slowly opens the door just enough so that he can look in and see what's happened. He sucks in a soft breath. You're completely naked, fiddling with a band-aid, a small stream of blood running down your leg. You must've nicked yourself while shaving, and as his eyes trace the blood, it looks to be around your knee (an annoying and troublesome area if one's not careful, or so he's been told). His eyes continue to travel past the nick to rake over the rest of your nude form.

And Diavolo has to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out a hot and noisy breath. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning, drop dead beautiful - he could on. Every part of you is simply perfect. His trance of admiration is broken when you move again, having finished applying the band-aid. Carefully, and quietly, he closes the door letting out the breath he was holding. There's no way either of you are sleeping tonight.

—

Barbatos

He gives a little hum to acknowledge you, but says nothing. It's a bit odd to see Barbatos of all people casually reclining in a chair with a book, but it's kinda cute (and an odd weight off your shoulders that the man does actually know how to relax). You turn and make your way to the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you.

Barbatos lets his eyes follow you as you walk to the bathroom, watching you go. His eyes narrow slightly - he expected your arms to be fuller...were you forgetting something? He glances over to your bed to find that you had forgotten to bring your sleepwear. He smiles softly, how cute of you.

Barbatos sets his book down before getting up and carefully collects your clothes to bring to you. He knocks gently on the door and then opens it. It's a force of habit really, he truly didn't mean to intrude and walk in on you half naked.

You hold each other's gaze for several long seconds, your hands behind your back holding the clasps of your bra. He simply stands in the entrance of the room, one hand holding your sleepwear, the other on the door knob.

He clears his throat softly, "You forgot these." Barbatos sets your clothes on the counter before quietly excusing himself.

—

Simeon

He smiles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. His smile dips into a slight frown when he realizes that he's not sure what to do now that you're busy. Should he read? His eyes dart to his bag. Or maybe he should work on his manuscript - he had been hoping to be able to work on it at some point during this trip and now seemed as good of a time as any, right?

After almost twenty minutes of struggling to do anything writing related Simeon decides that it would be best to call it a night. He carefully put his manuscript away and makes his way over to the bed. He picked up the top item of clothing that he had set out for himself earlier, only to realize that it wasn't his - it was your's. He glances back towards the bathroom and then the shirt he had unfolded. You must've grabbed the wrong set of sleepwear by accident.

Ever the gentleman, Simeon refoldes the shirt and picks up the stack of clothing, making his way to the bathroom. Even through the door, he can hear you softly singing along. He doubts that you can hear him, but he still knocks anyways, and isn't surprised when you don't answer.

Gently he opens the door, his gaze downwards. He peeks up, looking at the counter to see where you had set down the clothes you took. He groans internally when he sees that they're almost right at the farthest end; he had hoped to just be able to quickly swap them out and not disturb you.

He sighs and steps in, "Um, excuse me, (MC). I don't mean to bother you, but it seems you accidentally grabbed my clothes instead of your's." You look over to him, gently jolted out of your thoughts. You can't help but smile at Simeon; he keeps his gaze down and is quick with the exchange.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Enjoy the rest of your shower," and with that, he gracefully leaves, his ears a soft pink.

—

Solomon

He smiles and laughs a little to himself as he watches you leave towards the bathroom. He waits till he hears the door close before returning his attention to the small set up of magical equipment and knick-knacks. As he starts to tinker, he hears the soft noise of the shower and your music. He hums along softly as he works.

Almost half an hour later Solomon sets down his tools and stretches in the chair before getting up. He makes his way to the bathroom, lost in thought about his recent project. It was being difficult and not quite working how he wanted it to.

...maybe a shower would help clear his thoughts.

He opens the door to the bath and casual walks in, pushing the door closed with his foot. He grabs his belt to start undoing it when a voice calls his name.

"Solomon?! What are you doing?!"

He looks up and over to the shower, to see you. Already naked, in the shower, and in the middle of washing your hair. He tries to hold your gaze, but his eyes falter and flicker down to the rest of your form for a second. He had forgotten you were in here.

He laughs, thoroughly embarrassed for the first time in a while and brings his hands up to rub at his shoulder in an apologetic gesture, "S-Sorry, sorry. I...I uh...forgot you were in here..."

"Where else would I be?! Now get out! Shoo!"

Solomon doesn't need to be told twice.

1K notes · View notes

wonderfulwonderrful · 3 months

Text

The Lonely Hearts Party

Fluff | Toto x reader fem!mercemployee

Summary: You have been receiving the most gorgeous flowers at your desk every Wednesday morning for weeks now as a mysterious admirer seems to be in love with you. The entire factory, your besties at work, and you all wonder who he is. Could it be the one you truly wish for? Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader Mercedes employee. Genre: Fluff and romance. Author's note: This is a Toto x Reader fanfic set at the Brackley Headquarters on Valentine's Day. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you! Send you lots of love. Masterlist > My Toto Woff fics

The most beautiful flowers have been arriving at your desk every Wednesday morning for almost a month now. Every week, as you reach your office in the early hours, they are already in place to welcome you.

You love smelling them; they are always fresh and sweet-scented, and you love to look at them even more.

You feel a rush of excitement to read the handwritten note that always comes attached, filled with a different poem paragraph each time, something along the lines of "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright."

Every girl in your department finds it so romantic, the mysterious admirer, but you and your besties at work, Rose and Oliver, who work in the same station that you, joke about finding it a bit creepy.

"The Creepy Flower Guy" is a nickname you came up with to refer to him as an inside joke, being the three of you true crime enthusiasts.

—Maybe it's one of those garden gnomes HR placed outside —Oliver jokes as he finishes eating his scrambled eggs after you told them about the new Lilacs you received that morning at the breakfast quick break. —Perhaps he fell in love with you by watching you walk past —he jokes.

The hilarious idea of a tiny plastic guy sneaking into the headquarters, wearing his little red hat and fast feet to get incognito to your office, and on his tiptoes, placing the flowers on your desk makes you giggle.

You have to give it to HR this time; those gnomes were a great addition to the garden's pond; every time you sit on the benches near it, you enjoy the new scene the mechanics or engineers put together every few days, having fun moving the gnomes around or placing them in the funniest scenes, even someone during winter knitted them Christmas sweaters.

—Or maybe one day we'll find you dead on the floor, poisoned in your desk after inhaling azaleas for too long —Rose adds with the most casual tone as she bites her sandwich.

—Or you go missing! Kidnapped at the parking lot by "The Creep" —Oliver adds.

—GUYS! —Ava turns around after overhearing the conversation; she is sitting at the same long table in the cafeteria, not getting your usual dark humor, a bit concerned, and creeped out. —You three need to cool it down with those goddamn crime podcasts!

—NEVER! —all of you answer at the same time.

—You freaks!

As you all finish breakfast, in a rush because the "off-season" is always the busiest time at the factory, you ask out loud. —Who do you think it is?

—It's evident! It's... —Grace from the control room team starts saying.

—Lewis Hamilton! —and she finishes along with the other five people on the table now.

Oh, the classic joke.

The entire table burst into laughter. It's a common joke to do about Lewis since almost every family member or friend thinks that working in the Mercedes racing team instantly makes you Lewis's best friend and that you always hang out with the guy, which couldn't be further away from reality.

Most of you only see him in corporate gatherings or pass by from building to building, usually on his way to the simulator or in the hallways on a lucky day.

He is always sweet and polite with the team and staff but quite distant; he still is Lewis fucking Hamilton. Unless you are part of his immediate team or Toto's, you get that privilege reserved for the key players only.

Even so, almost everyone has a Lewis or Bottas story, and ALL of you have Niki's anecdotes cause that man is bonkers and a LEGEND.

Most of them go hilarious as all of you try to act human around them, like the one Oliver has where he bumped into Lewis one day as Oliver was getting out of the bathroom and Lewis was on his way in, offering him a completely wet hand to introduce himself, which Hamilton noticed and sweetly and quickly patted Oliver on the shoulder with a "nice meeting you, man" and quickly got in.

—REAL theories only, guys! —you address the table. —Is my life a joke to you all? —you mess around, getting on your feet and closing the lid of your topper. —Please don't answer that.

Another week goes by, and a new stunning bouquet arrives.

—Oh, how exquisite! That man is so into you. Those blue mophead hydrangeas sure are expensive! —the receptionist points out to you because you are a total flower ignorant who only goes: "Oh, pretty, colorful, smell cute" without giving it much thought.

Most of the time, you have no idea what you are looking at, but you have fun googling it and trying to decipher; in your defense, no one has pampered you like this before.

You are brand new at the getting flowers game.

The following week, a couple of bets start happening at the building as the word spreads, and many wonder who the mysterious guy is.

Some think it's not a guy but a girl, as one day after a meeting, as you all are leaving, one of the engineers approaches you and makes the clever remark that the attention to detail about the type of flowers, the color palettes, and the scented notes is too much for a simple guy. —Either he is getting advised, or it's not a guy! Maybe you could obtain a reference from the company that delivers it.

This entire thing feels surreal and truly takes you by surprise since you have always considered yourself the most average girl, especially in looks and more so in the sea of beautiful blondes working at Mercedes.

Which, for some weird reason, reminded you of when you dropped your resume after one of your buddies from college - who still works there at the machine shop - gave you the heads up there was a job opening that suited you perfectly; he even had to insist you a couple of times, because you were almost sure they wouldn't give you a callback.

To your eyes, Mercedes was one of those companies that cared about looks or looked for a specific ethnic type; it turns out you judged too soon; they care about skills, productivity, and professionalism, too, and it ended up being a bit more diverse than you expected the place to be.

It still has many areas for improvement, but it's become your favorite job ever.

By the end of the day, you wait for Rose to come out of her meeting to leave together, standing in the perfectly lit hallway leaning on the impeccable white wall; it's "Cheap Thursday" at your favorite local pub, and you two desperately need fuel to finish the heavy week, so nachos and a couple of pints sound like heaven.

After what feels like an eternity, a group of people comes out of the double doors by the end of the corridor facing you, and you catch a glimpse of a very hurried-up Toto getting out, too, looking handsome and elegant as ever.

You feel his dark eyes looking you up for the briefest moment, making you shiver and blush like a teenager in front of her crush.

Thank god he doesn't stop his pace and gets out of your view within seconds but leaves you distracted enough not to notice Rose approaching you till she is by your side, looking almost pale as a ghost, whispering in your ear.

—I swear it's Toto's handwriting! I just saw him writing on the board for over an hour, and his calligraphy looks exactly like the one of "Creepy Flower Guy"!

—Come on?! Toto? Shut up! —a crackle comes out of your mouth, thinking it's the most ridiculous idea. —The billionaire smocking-hot boss falls in love with the average employee; what do you think this is? An 80s telenovela? Fuck off...

—Well, his handwriting is the same cursive style, and the "r" and "t" are almost identical —Rose starts to overexplain, trying to justify herself, looking timid and embarrassed now, and you instantly feel awful at your reaction.

—I'm so sorry, Rose, I overreacted; I tend to be too blunt! —you quickly wrap her into a hug.

—It's just that I have been seeing that calligraphy for a while now, and I found it freaky similar.

—Now, how can we make sure, Rose? Any ideas?

She shakes her head. —I'm not friends with his assistants or anyone on Toto's team.

—No one is friends with his assistants. I wouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be ex-MI5 agents or worked for the KGB —Rose starts to laugh hard, agreeing. —I think getting to the Prime Minister is easier than reaching Toto under their hands!

—You are screwed then.

—Let's rule Toto out for the moment —you add.

—Yeah.

That night at your flat, a crazy thought comes to your mind as you brush your teeth; the wackiest thoughts tend to happen to you when you brush your teeth; you need to make yourself with a piece of paper handwritten by Toto to compare it with one of your notes.

You know Toto places sticky notes on the far wall inside his office; you have noticed those on your many and regular trips to the CFO's office as your boss always sends you to deliver the reports in person by the end of every week, always passing in front of Toto's office on you way there, which most of the time it's empty since he spends the year traveling, but you try to do your best when he is in, slowing your steps a little bit more to enjoy the view and fixing your appearance a little bit too before crossing in front of him.

Still, his assistants are always at their front desk near there, making it impossible to sneak in.

If only you could make it inside Toto's office without raising questions and with a good excuse. You laugh at the idea; it's wild and ain't going to happen, and if it does, your ass is getting fired.

As the Mission Impossible cord from the ceiling scene comes to your mind, it's time for you to go to sleep.

As you anxiously roll from side to side of the bed, struggling to shut your brain off, you remember that Niki's surprise birthday celebration is scheduled in two weeks; you could volunteer to help organize the event and usher the people around, including Toto.

There is the slightest chance to make it to his office and take a quick photo of the sticky notes on the wall; it's borderline mental, but you really want to find out because Rose sounded so sure!

This is fucking insane.

Two weeks, two new bouquets later.

When you finally reach the upper floor, where the "top-tier people work," almost everyone has left to get to the party on time.

Being on time in Mercedes is a must, so there are few people you need to usher there.

You got accepted to join the Niki's celebration committee as a helper minion. Weirdly, it will be hosted in the base race of all places instead of the Silver Arrow Lounge, where most celebrations are usually held.

The decor is ready, the cake is at the counter, and the many photo props and snacks inspired by Niki's red cap are in place; even the catering and most of the people invited have arrived.

But Allison and Toto are nowhere to be seen, and the head of HR is on her nerves about it, thinking it could ruin the surprise or that two of the most influential people there are going to miss such an important event.

As you approach the bosses' offices area, you quickly search in the surroundings for them; it helps you that all offices have glass panel walls.

You venture to wander more, but nada, they are not there, and at this point, no one is there. As you return to the stairs, you pass in front of Toto's office once more.

You just need to snap a quick picture. What could go wrong? No one is near to see you, and there are no cameras around since Toto dislikes that.

"Okay, Y/N, listen, it's just a couple of steps; you have your phone in your hand; it won't take more than a few seconds..."

You feel your body acting on its own and your feet slowly moving ahead.

You gradually enter the luxurious and immaculate office.

"Okay, like four steps more, and I'm close enough to zoom in the picture."

When you almost reach his desk and the perfect distance to snap the photo, you sense movement outside, fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel someone standing behind you, right at the door.

Busted!

—Yes? Can I help you? —Toto's voice comes severe but calm.

You feel your heart in your throat as you slowly turn around.

—Yes, you can! —you quickly reply, pretending to be looking at the cool helmets and steering wheels at the corner. Is it the best move your mind could come up with? Certainly not —...Sir... —you kind of finish saying, remembering he is the boss.

Toto stares at you, waiting for you to continue as you stand motionless in the middle of the room, looking straight at him. His eyebrows go up a little, and a tiny, amused smile forms on his lips as he moves his hand, gesturing you to continue.

—They are all waiting for you at the race base, sir... to start Niki's surprise reception. He is about to arrive.

—And they sent you to get me?

—Yes —you feel the need to explain yourself more, feeling nervous. —Niki has no idea who I am, so I'm not blowing the surprise away if I bump into him on my way here!

—Interesting... —he lets out gradually.

Oh god, Toto has no clue who I am either, right?

Fuck, I'm such an idiot!

—Oh, I, I'm Y/N —your brain starts working again as you quickly introduce yourself to him, offering him a hand to shake.

He looks even more perplexed at you but grabs it; it's awkward, and you want to crawl into a hole or hide beneath the expensive rug you are stepping on.

—We should get going; I have places to go, and I'm on a schedule today.

—Oh yes, of course, sir —you quickly exit his office as he closes its glass door behind you. Well, you literally pass below his muscular arm.

Toto doesn't move much, so you squeeze in, almost brushing his body as you out, and he simultaneously closes the door, fuck, he is tall and smells so so so good.

It's a quiet walk downstairs; just the sound of your steps and breaths fills the room. You feel intimidated by Toto's presence, not used to having him that near you and being a shy-natured girl.

He seems to slow down his step, prolonging your agony.

Should I say something? But what about? Work? Something casual? You assume he wonders the same since you feel his eyes on you every few steps, but he dares to break the ice before you can.

—So y..

—I'm To... Oh, sorry, go ahead —he says at the same time.

—Oh, no worries —you nervously place a strand of your hair behind your ear. He follows the movement of your hand with his eyes. —What were you saying? —you look straight at him, Jesus; he is way cuter up close; that's some strong jawline, you can't control your eyes going all over his features.

—That I didn't introduce myself upstairs. I'm Toto, by the way —he offers you a kind and unintentionally sexy smile.

You notice, a bit way too much, how all his traits soften and how relaxed and joyful he looks when he smiles.

It turns out that "The Creepy Employee Girl" should be your nickname now.

After perceiving him as less threatening, you joke around to make the air less awkward. —Really? I had no idea! I thought you were that Lewis guy everyone talks about! But nice to meet you Toto By The Way —you fool around.

He laughs a bit. —You never heard of me before? I guess I'm losing popularity around here nowadays!

—You must hang around more to be part of the "popular squad".

—Who holds the title right now?

—The gnomes.

—Oh, yes, they are quite popular.

—A bit too much, yeah.

As you two reach the entrance to the race base, he rushes his step to hold open the door for you, letting you go first; you feel his intense gaze follow you every step as you pass right across from him, making you feel things he shouldn't.

Everyone who got invited is already there; the usually squeaky-clean and clear white counters now hold cups, party hats, bottles of champagne and sparkling water, delicacies, and a big red cap-shaped cake.

—Great! The boss is here! Please, bring Niki in —you hear the HR director speak through the intercom as she looks your way, sounding so relieved, and a minute later, all of you start cheering as Niki enters the room.

You expect Toto to instantly leave your side and go near the big names of the company and his precious stylish drivers, but no, he stays right next to you.

As Niki almost reaches you two, getting hugs all his way down, he comes closer to Toto first and says in a low voice, but you are still able to hear him. —Is the cake vegan?! —looking concerned before tightly and roughly hugging him, knowing they would call him to blow out the candles and bite the cake soon.

—No, sir, this time they brought Lewis his own cake —you inform him, getting in the conversation, as the two of them turn to look at you.

—Oh, thank god! I almost spit out last year's "fake" cake! Hi Y/N! I didn't notice you there! This mountain was on the way —he pats Toto's chest a bit too strongly. Niki makes a funny face, eyebrows going up, not sugarcoating around as usual but earnest and light-spirited.

You laugh, exhaling cute sounds; even you have to admit you have a lovely, infectious laugh.

—Hi sir, happy birthday!

How on earth does Niki know my name?! He knows who I am?! WHAT...

—...the fuck were you thinking?! —Oliver looks shocked and pale as you update him and Rose about your little adventure today. —You honestly thought it could be Toto?!

—Can a girl have a dream?! —you shrug as you keep typing violently on your computer, wanting to finish that notice as soon as possible to move on to the next task, starting to feel stressed.

—You could have got into serious trouble, like big trouble, like getting fired trouble —Rose says, dead serious. —I feel terrible for enabling you!

—I know it was reckless and stupid, really stupid! —you admit, feeling dumb now about your actions.

God knows what got into you!

The next day, on your way to the cafeteria for lunch, you sense something is going on; everyone is acting weird.

Until you enter the room to find Toto having his meal in there, alone at a table, aware of the looks he is getting.

What is he doing here? He usually goes out for lunch or eats inside his office.

The fuck.

He waves a hand at you; you look around to see if he is addressing someone else till he arches an eyebrow, slightly annoyed, so you hurry up to reach him.

—Well, you weren't wrong! By all the looks I received on my way here, and fairly now, it appears I don't hang around much —he invites you to sit, stretching his arm, pointing to the chair in front of his, before continuing. —It wasn't unusual to see me everywhere before; of course, it was the early days, and we were a smaller team back then —he almost looked sad and nostalgic about it.

—Look at you, man of the people!

—Eat your salad —he rolls his eyes at you as you get your lunch out.

—Is that like a boss order, or?

—Maybe, if I'm feeling moody.

—So, I guess most of the old guard is gone?

—Are you low-hand calling me old?

—Well, how ancient are you?

—I'm almost 70 —he makes you smile and looks all pleased with himself and his dumb humor. —I know, I look good for 70!

—Who would have thought you had a sense of humor? You always look severe and bossy.

—Can you stop low-key insulting me?

—Neva'

After two weeks of having lunch with Toto and getting to know each other more every day, you two become friends; some days, a different person joins you; at some point, you can't believe you are sharing quinoa recipes with Lewis and comparing drinking pub stories with Niki.

—Is it me, or have you abandoned us, the peasants? —Oliver says to you when you return to the office.

—Oh, come on! You can join, you know that! He knows who you two are; we talk about you guys a lot, and he greets you daily!

—Now that you are part of the "big farts" table, hanging with the famous, why would you care about two random coworkers? —Rose overdramatizes.

—OH COME ON!

—Apparently, you don't care about the old and wise saying "Bros before hoes," —Oliver adds.

—Of course, I care about you two hoes. Please join us tomorrow. PLEASE?! —you beg them with the biggest smile and puppy eyes ever seen.

—Eating with the boss and talking to him? I'm not risking it! —Oliver says, dead honest, not trusting himself.

—He is trying to reconnect with the team; he isn't going to judge you! Besides, Toto knows you are my besties.

Two long "aw" come your way.

—That's so cute, but NO! —Rose ends the conversation.

As you admire the new bouquet of tulips you get delivered the next day, your phone suddenly buzzes on your desk, distracting you from finishing updating the chart with the latest data.

—Lunchtime already? 😩🥙

—Who this? 👀

—Luke, I'm your father.

—He dead 🙏🌫️

—Oh, shit, sorry! Bad joke!

—💀💀💀

—There's no need to be that explicit.

—It means dying of laughter!

—Oh, shit, I'm old, it's Toto By The Way.

—I'm saving you with that name! How did you get my number?

—By boss privilege.

—YES! LET'S LUNCH PLEASE! I'm Hungarian.

—What?

—Typo sorry, hungry!

—HA! See you in five! 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

—Could going to lunch with someone at the cafeteria be considered a date? —you turn around in your office chair to address Oliver.

—Dreaming is free, bestie!

On your way to meet Toto, you bump into the most annoying senior engineer, Mr. Schäfer, in the corridor.

OH GOD! Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me, you think as you two cross paths, but sadly, you notice him stop his step after making eye contact with you.

—Miss, Y/LN. A minute?

SHIT!

—Sorry I'm late! "Gwen Stefani" got me on my way here!

—Who? —Toto looks at you, amused and confused.

Shit! You burped out.

—Ahem, Mr. Schäfer —you quickly correct, taking your water bottle out of your bag and drinking it after rushing there. Toto stares at the couple of drops that escape your lips and slide down your chin and neck, and he swallows hard.

—What did you call him? —Toto asks, clearing his throat.

—Oh, don't mind me!

—Yes, mind you! It's a pretty accurate nickname, I must admit it, even if I shouldn't, but it fits —Toto shrugs nonchalantly, with a chuckle on his face.

Schäfer is really pretty, lean, blond, pale, has big bambi's brown eyes, and his voice is so annoying.

And now you feel embarrassed.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, as you two eat, Toto says: —Do I have a nickname?

—Oh, no, no one dares.

—Why? Do people fear me? —his expression changes to one of concern. —Maybe that would explain why people always seem to slow down their pace in the main corridor as soon as they see me inside the elevator. I always try to press the hold button to wait for them.

—This leaves me with a question: How do you fit in there? Your hair sure is touching the ceiling —he looks at you with an "Are you kidding me?" face. —No, for real!

—Don't avoid the actual question!

—Okay, okay, it's more like you intimidate. You look a bit, ahem, stern.

—Really? So, that was your first impression of me?

—Well, not really —you feel your cheeks turning red, fuck. —The first time I saw you, IRL.

—Sorry?

—In real life! You were being interviewed at the reception on that pearl/grey, awful porn movie-esque rug, which is inappropriate to say because the interviewer was a kid; anyway, It was something adorable to see. So that was my first impression of you, sweet and kind —his eyes soften at your answer, and you feel your knees touching beneath the table. —And also well lit —you joke.

As you do your best at not being honest and admitting to Toto, you fell in love with him the first time you saw him. It was instant.

—Oh.

Another week goes by, February starts, and the most stunning bouquet to this moment arrives. Okay, this one is a lot.

—Good lord, "Creepy Flower Guy" went full force with this one; what did you do to him?! —Rose asks, jaw on the floor as she stares at that humongous thing.

—I have no fucking clue.

—You think he is about to reveal himself? —Oliver points out. —Maybe this is a "going out with a BANG!".

—Honestly, I don't care much about it anymore —you admit. You feel several heads turning your way, shocked.

"It's not who I would like it to be," you think. You don't need to say more to know that Oliver and Rose get it.

That working day was cut short since it was the Monster-sponsored "Spartan Race," a cross-fit competition.

Many coworkers listed at the contest held outside on the garden grounds where a fancy circuit got built, but not you. You volunteered to help deliver the medals to the participants at the finish line.

In the meantime, you take a good spot with Oliver to watch the competition unfold and cheer for Rose.

—You go, Rambo! —you scream at her as she completes another obstacle course.

You watch Toto pass in those goddamn shorts, looking so hot, all sweaty. Toto's shirt's tight fabric on the skin leaves little to the imagination.

You meet him at the finish line an hour later, as you are now doing your duty. As soon as he notices you, he starts to jog in your direction with the most mischievous smile.

—Oh no, no, no! Don't you even...! —you receive the biggest and tightest hug from a sweaty, wet, and full of dirt and mud Toto.

—OH GOD! Get off! —you pull him away, making yucky faces.

—I was hoping to bump into you at the circuit! —he tells you, still with a lot of energy, as you place his gold medal on his neck, he is bending to your height.

—I'm not that sporty; you would have to drag me to the finish line.

—I would have gladly carried you around in these powerful arms! —he jokes while flexing.

You roll your eyes at him.

The next day, at your desk.

As you blast the newest episode of your favorite crime podcast, Rose and Oliver start making eye contact with you, trying to grab your attention, moving their eyes several times to the left as you take out your AirPods.

—WHAT?!

—Sure, those things cancel noise! I have spent about an hour trying to talk to you!

Oh shit, you jump a little at the sound of Toto's voice near your ear.

—Were you listening to a murder podcast? At work?! You are going to hurt your ears; I was able to hear it from here —Toto is leaning on the left side of your desk.

—Maybe... I was... —you look at him with squinted eyes, and he looks back at you the same way.

—What is that thing?! —Toto says, a bit disgusted at the exuberance, pointing to the enormous bouquet beside your computer.

—It's a long story —you try to avoid the subject.

—I want to hear it when I return. I will not join you at lunch today or the rest of the week.

—Bummer, where are you going then? —you turn in your chair to face him.

Everyone looks at you with a "Did you really ask the boss that?" face.

—Austria, It's my mom's birthday.

—Aw, sweet, wish her a happy birthday for me!

—I will —you look at each other tenderly, both wanting to say more. You suddenly feel the desperate need to hug Toto, but a simple: —See you next week, then! —comes out of your mouth, ending the interaction.

It's almost Valentine's Day, and Toto has returned from his little adventure in the mountains; he laughs when you text him that. You two talked even more than usual every day during his absence.

So you text him if you could go up to his office.

—Knock, knock —you say as you pop your head in at his door.

He brightens as he sees you, fully smiling at you, making your stomach feel butterflies.

—Please, come in!

You approach his desk, holding something in your hands; it's an envelope with an invitation in the old-fashioned way. —Hi! —you smile big at him. —I have the obligation to invite you to the traditional "Lonely Hearts Party" on Valentine's Day!

—No one wants the boss at an outside-the-office party —he looks at you a bit taken out.

—Yeah, I know, we know. But still, you are invited. It's for singles only, assuming that you are single, which no one thinks you are, so here —you feel Toto's hand touching yours as you deliver him the envelope, leaving you with a lingering sensation on your fingers, a very Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy moment in your delulu mind.

—I'm going to be in Brazil, but thank you anyway, and yes, I'm single —he pays attention to your reaction to his words, and you pray for him not to notice the little happy smile forming on your lips. —Are you... are you like... seeing someone? —he asks you.

—I'm going to attend the Lonely Hearts Party, you think?! Listen, my neighbor, Miss Tailor, is 80 and has a boyfriend; even that old rag has seen more action than me this year!

Toto's palm goes onto his face, bursting with laughter; he is laughing so hard at your comment that no sound comes out of his throat, just hallows of air, and he goes all red, not believing your words. —You are quite something! —He lets you know and looks at you with adoration, his face resting on his hand and his elbow on the desk.

—I know —you nod, kidding. —Anyway, have a nice day, and see you later!

During that day's lunch break, Toto demands you to explain to him in detail all about that "Creepy Flower Guy," he even ventures to guess who he is after listening to the whole story.

—Milo, Ben, and Ansel all have stared you down when you walk past in front of them, with lust obviously, and I heard Finn once complimenting your good looks to say it nicely —he informs you.

Is that jealousy you detect?

Toto does pay attention.

It's Wednesday, and your car is out in maintenance, so you make it extra early on that day at the office; you wanted to avoid risking it being late since you aren't used to using public transport to get there.

You make it just in time to witness Mike walking away from your desk inside your desert office through the glass panel wall from afar. As you walk to your chair, you notice new flowers are already in place. You feel your heartbeat going full speed and a wave of disappointment washing you over; what were you expecting, for it to really be Toto?

That entire day, you remain all moody and quiet, and your friends notice it, but you say nothing about it.

You even ask your boss to leave early, being unable to handle being near Toto today, which leaves him worried, judging by the four texts and two missed phone calls you received from him, wondering where you are and if everything is okay.

Four days later, you are like nothing has happened. As you walk your way to enter the building where you work, you notice Toto sitting alone in the distance, having a call; you slowly start to walk toward him, switching paths.

He finally has returned from his trip to Stuggart.

—Well, the "Creepy Flower Guy" saga has come to an end, my friend; I found out who he is —you inform him, unenthusiastic, as you sit on the bench in the pond's garden right next to him.

—You don't seem so excited —Toto's eyes look slightly concerned as he tells you.

—Well, no, to be honest.

—Drumrolls —Toto says, trying to lift your spirits, slapping his thighs, making the sound. —And the creep is?!

—Mike, from financial.

—Magic Mike?! —Toto lets out a bit too loud.

—Yep!

—Are you sure? Like 100%? But how?!

You nod. —I saw Mike near my desk in the early hours a couple of days ago, and the flowers were there as he was walking away from the crime scene! Also, by the drawer full of flower receipts at his office desk. They all match the types of bouquets I received and have the exact dates.

—Are you creeping around in people's offices again?

—WAIT A MINUTE! I wasn't creeping into your office!

—Oh no? What were you doing near my desk? Looking for Niki's cake?

—Shut up! I was looking for you.

—Yes, I love to hide myself in there —Toto playfully and softly pushes you.

—And NO! I wasn't creeping around in Mike's office; Anita sent me to get the notice she needed, and I went there; it turns out Mike was on holiday, but he left the instruction to collect it from the drawer on his desk, and then I opened the wrong drawer and BAMB! It was full of receipts and bills from the flower company that delivered my flowers. Not to be nosy, but Magic Mike is doing pretty well; I had no idea how expensive they were!

—Wait! But you aren't telling me! Are you into Magic Mike? Do you fancy him?

—No, not him, anyway.

Toto stares intensely at you and wants to say more. If you weren't so in the zone, you would have noticed it and given him a chance, but no, you continue blurting out words.

—But I will go and thank him, I guess. I don't want to hurt him; he is lovely. Everyone told me to go out on a date with him. I don't feel like it right now, but it's not always love at first sight, right? Maybe that doesn't even exist; I was expecting to fall in love, you know, movie style, but that may not be real, or at least not for girls like me. Besides, Valentine's Day is approaching, and I don't feel like spending it alone again —you let out a sigh after talking forever.

—Weren't you going to that Lonely Hearts Party? It sounds fun. It's better than going on a date with someone you don't like just to feel better —Toto tells you a bit moody.

—Oh god, I love you; you are always right; you are so annoying —you add while hugging and kissing him on the cheek. —Is there any chance I can fit in your suitcase for Brazil? I wouldn't mind spending Valentine's Day with a hot Brazilian or at the beach.

Toto laughs while shaking his head.

—I have to go! —you complain, checking the hour on your smartwatch. —Unfortunately, I have work to pretend to do!

—Sometimes I feel you forget I'm the boss here —he jokes with you as he crosses his arms and watches you walk backward, still facing him, getting further away.

—YES SIR!

It's the Wednesday before Valentine's Day, and to everyone's surprise, the flowers stop arriving.

"Did Toto tell Mike I don't like him and to stop sending me flowers?" You take out your phone to text him.

—Apparently, even "Creepy Flower Guy" gave up on me.

—Really?! —Toto replies.

—Yes. No flowers today.

He gives you no further information, no replying text comes your way.

It's Valentine's Day, and you are wearing a shiny red mini dress with matching bow heels to the Lonely Hearts Party.

You took your time doing your makeup, which you feel you nailed, and your hair looks sleek.

As you check yourself in the mirror, you feel confident and hot!

After several drinks and enjoying the music and the vibe, you relish the party, but your mind keeps wandering to the anticlimactic ending of the flower guy mystery.

The only crime and murder here was the one of your feelings and heart.

Two hours later, you start to feel bummed out enough after witnessing many hookups and new couples forming, slightly envious of them and feeling lonelier than ever, aching that Toto was here with you instead of Brazil. You decide you've had enough and are about to leave when you feel a soft finger tap on your right shoulder. You turn around to see who it is.

Definitely, you aren't ready for the scene that greets you.

Toto is standing right before you, holding a bouquet in his hands, looking extremely handsome, with a shy smile on his lips.

—What are you doing here?! —you look astonished at him. Am I that drunk?! Thinking you are seeing things now.

—I felt like delivering them to you in person from now on —he offers you the roses.

Your brain takes its time to process his words and what's happening. This is really happening.

—You are? —you try to say and instinctively grab the bouquet.

—The Creepy Flower Guy, yes.

You laugh at the sound of the nickname on his lips.

—Let's call him "flower guy" from now on.

—Yeah, let's call him Toto better, or my love, if you prefer. I hope you aren't as disappointed this time.

—But Mike? —you ask, confused.

—Have you ever heard of the terms invoice and tax returns? He does my accounting, too. Mike helped me deliver the flowers till I felt ready to show myself. He is a long friend of mine.

—That's why he had all the receipts; that makes sense. Wait!

You close the distance between Toto and you and place a kiss on his lips; getting on your tiptoes, he slowly and hungrily starts kissing you more, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, not letting you move an inch away from him.

—Thank you for the flowers, my love but weren't you supposed to be in Brazil by now? —you ask him as you both catch your breaths.

His lips are so soft and warm.

—Oh, I'm going to be in Brazil soon, but I forgot to mention to you that you would also be there. Happy Valentine's Day, my love! —he gives you another long and delicious kiss.

—Shouldn't I have packed? —you ask against his lips, already overthinking.

Toto shakes his head.

—We aren't going to need much clothes, anyway. -

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