#george sure does have a way with words lol

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x yn #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x yn #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #mclaren #oscar piastri fic #Spotify

[strawberrysainz]

supercut of us. max verstappen

“ you weren’t expecting him to join the holiday. so when he does . . . you’re not sure how to refrain yourself from both slapping him in the face or pulling him into bed with you. ”

max verstappen x fem!reader

a mini enemies to lovers “blurb” (it’s 1.5k words lol) for my max lovers.

a warning — slightly mature scene, profanity, alcohol consumption

3:36 P.M.

“My heart is pounding,” you admit, and your hand that absentmindedly clutches your moving chest allows you to let out a deep breath.

George chuckles. You’re both waiting for his girlfriend to come back from the bar with your cocktails - you for a drink, him so he can leave you two alone.

The bird that’s just made a grab at your bowl of snacks squawks from a metre away and you stare at it menacingly. Carmen comes back clutching two strawberry daiquiris, and George takes that as his cue to leave, hurriedly. You furrow your eyebrows. “What’s the man got to do at -” you check your watch -“three forty two pm on holiday?”

Carmen shrugs. “He had to get to the airport to pick people up, last I heard.”

You nod knowingly and lean back on the sun lounger, taking a sip of your drink.

Carmen starts to talk about drama from work, and you peer at her through your sunglasses as the warmth of the sun and the comfort of previous tipsiness starts making you drift off.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

4:56 P.M.

Around an hour later you’re rudely awoken by multiple cheeky voices; you can identify George’s loud voice through the squinting of your eyes through the sunlight, but there’s one voice that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s raspy - in a smooth way - but the short cackle that follows it allows you to realise that it's someone you definitely don’t want on holiday with you.

Pure annoyance makes you open your eyes. Carmen is nowhere to be seen; four men stand above you. You sit up, yawning, and hope that you’re not red with sunburn. (Looking down for a split second, you’re not.) Then you look up with some kind of synthetic smile and your blood boils as you look Max straight in the eyes.

“Hi boys,” you say, smiling, and get up to give everyone a hug; Lando spins you around and runs across the sand, and as you scream he throws you into the ocean.

Now you need a drink, for real.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

LATER. 11:37 P.M.

Head heavy in your hand on the counter, you’re woozy, blanketed by too many cocktails, and Lily and Carmen sit across from you stealing blocks of chocolate from a bar Alex bought.

Max strolls in and you grimace.

The anger hasn’t dissipated- being in a serene setting hasn’t changed what happened- and you toss him the drink he nods to; he turns straight back around and leaves.

“What’s the beef with you two, anyway?” Lily says curiously, and Carmen laughs. “It’s so dumb.”

“When we were sixteen-” you interrupt yourself to cough- “he dated two of my friends and caused us all to break up our group. Then he asked me out for a date, we went out, then he ghosted me. I was left with no friends. Then we met again two years later and we had a screaming fight outside a club, which ended up in a Dutch gossip mag. I was so embarrassed.”

Lily scrunches her nose. Carmen has zoned out, but she laughs to herself.

You look at her with the hint of a smile, tilting your head.

She nudges Lily. “They have to share a room tonight.” She whispers, and she throws her head back laughing and you stare at her incredulously. “Sorry?”

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

2:16 A.M.

“Max, I don’t fucking care, I’m sleeping on this stupid thing.” You kick the hard wooden bench at the foot of the bed. (It looks like a terrible place to sleep).

“Can you fucking get over yourself?” He says, rolling his eyes, and you’re drunk and upset and trying not to cry because he makes you so angry. “Just sleep in the fucking bed.”

You stand there in the room with your arms crossed, breeze softly blowing. He huffs and stalks off to the bathroom.

You get dressed for bed, in a big t-shirt because it’s hot and humid. Max walks out of the bathroom as you’re sliding on the shirt and you know he’s gotten a glimpse of your stomach and your underwear because his gaze changes from something frustrated to something you witnessed at the age of seventeen, across a dinner table as his hands move over your thigh.

He seems to be moving without knowing; suddenly he’s in front of you, eyes wild with desire you haven’t ever known, and it’s a test of patience, standing there under the twilight; the curtains blow.

You stand there with trepidation rattling your body and turn around, getting into bed like a stubborn little child.

He closes his eyes, opens the door and leaves.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

9:23 A.M.

The morning air greets you as you walk outside; Lando’s made mimosas on the wooden table next to the swimming pool, and you take a champagne glass gratefully. You wave to Lily and Alex who sit with their feet in the pool, and sip, the sun bathing you in light.

Lando comes to sit next to you by the pool loungers and you raise your glass as a thank you to him. “I heard you two had a little spat last night,” he says carefully, and you snort. “He instigated it and left.”

He laughs. “He went past my room to sleep on the couch. His footsteps were so fuckin’ heavy, I couldn’t even sleep for a good twenty minutes.”

You laugh.

George yells from inside that he’s made breakfast and everyone gets up with a yawn. Lando grabs a spare bottle of champagne and you all walk inside.

There’s some nearly burnt pancakes, heavenly smelling bacon, some sausage, and fried eggs. You all praise him heavily (Alex wraps his arm around his waist and pretends to kiss him) and Max walks in. He doesn’t acknowledge you and instead greets everyone else. You roll your eyes.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

13:43 P.M.

You’re a bit tipsy already, enough so that you can chat to Max amicably beside the pool as George and Alex play some mix of water polo and volleyball.

Your empty glass seems to shout at you from your side, so you pick it up and make your way back to the house.

As you enter the kitchen you hear someone stepping behind you. It’s Max - you know it from the soft thud of his foot against the wooden floor. Your eyelids flutter shut with some emotion you don’t know yet when he comes to stand next to you. You watch him out of your periphery, his hands, the soft, flowing movement of his body. His resting face, squinting with concentration to pour drinks. You bite back some words and carry on pouring.

As you turn around to go back, you two face each other, and your breath hitches when his eyes slowly move to meet yours, clutching your glass like it’s your protector. His gaze is… tender. In the kind of way that blurs out everything else.

The only thing that comes to mind is kissing him, so you move to go, and he sets down a glass to grab your arm. You clear your throat, and Christine McVie’s voice croons in the background when you look back. His eyelashes brush his cheek every time he blinks, and you study his face, forgetting all that came before.

Lando and Alex call, and you both leave. The feelings are left there, back in the house, when you go.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

12:34 A.M.

Stumbling back from the restaurant, everyone bids eachother a good night after a quick drink of a glass of water each. You find your room and start getting undressed in the middle of the room, carelessly, and when you hear Max come in you get a fright and clutch your chest. He lets out a little laugh as he gets his things and moves to the bathroom.

Two minutes later, when he walks back inside, you’re bending over to see your face in the mirror to take off your makeup and you can sense the energy inside the room has changed. He’s in a shirt and those gingham pants that look divine on any man, and he stands still for a moment before moving over to the window. You bend back up and you’re met by his gaze again, frozen in place. Your lips part momentarily and he steps forward, and you’re reminded of how much you hate his stupid face when his lips meet yours. His hands wrap around your waist, one dipping beneath your shirt to rest on your stomach, and you’re kissing him, hard, desperately, messily; in a way that you don’t realise how much you wanted to until now.

He moves slowly to the bed, large hands grasping your waist softly, sending shivers up your spine. His hips press against yours as you fall on the bed, gasping with pleasure as his hands meet your neck.

❤️‍🔥🍓💋🍹

TWO MONTHS LATER. 11:56 AM.

In the garage, you’re busy chatting to some mechanics when he comes up to you, and his hands slide around your waist from behind. You twist your torso to smile up at him as he presses a kiss to your cheek, and to your delight he pushes you towards his driver’s room, shooting you a knowing grin as he looks away, holding up five fingers and then a thumbs up. You bite back a broad smile as you walk away.

i hope you enjoyed. heart, comment, reblog pls 🫶🤙 love u love u love u

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fic #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic

[leclsrc]

mr. nice guy ✴︎ ms47

genre: 18+, pwp (very little plot), very very filthy, fem!reader

word count: 4.3k (of smut. you’ve been warned)

Mick Schumacher is the paddock’s golden boy. He likes upholding this reputation, but there’s something nagging at him lately that makes it... difficult.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… penetrative sex, anal sex; like descriptive anal, dirty talk (praise central!!), crying, breeding, rough sex, size kink, some squirting?, requires suspension of belief regarding the inner workings of anal lol

hope you like it everyone! :) i finished it early so revising can kiss my butt ahhaaha.

Mick has a secret.

It’s more of a problem than a secret (to him at least), and it concerns you. But it’s not that he feels the spark is gone, and it’s definitely not that he feels like breaking things off with you. Between you both, everything’s been good and steady despite how demanding his career is. Sometimes, if time permits, you’ll go out to dinner during a race weekend, or even spend more than a few days with each other.

Point is—he’s more than happy with your relationship. Even the sex is good, and like everything else, you two are just compatible in that department. Up until last month, actually, Mick had been okay. And then Lando just had to open his loud mouth during a game of poker in Charles’ hotel room, during a conversation about a girl he’d slept with the night before.

“I didn’t know girls were into that,” George had said, curious. Nobody was really paying attention to the poker anymore, everyone turned toward Lando. He’d smiled, a smug, cheeky little git.

“Oh, some are. But if you want to try, chances are you’ll be the one asking.”

“Really?” Mick had interjected. He’d been quiet for the duration of the discussion, so it comes as a bit of a surprise. George and Lando had shared a smirk, a look. Then Lando’d said passively: “Yeah, Mick. Didn’t pin you as a guy who’d be into that, though.”

“Hmm,” Mick mused. He didn’t pin himself as that kind of guy either. Sex with you isn’t necessarily vanilla—it can get rough—but for some reason, Mick just isn’t that guy. But with Lando, being into that had made sense. His sexcapades always have a thrill to them, an edge. 

“Yeah,” Charles had quipped, smirking now, too. “Because… well, you’re a nice guy, Mick.”

He is a nice guy. A sweet guy. Fans call him cute all the time. So he figures this new pressing dilemma won’t press. Except it does press—thoughts of being able to play with you, possess you that way irk him well into the night.

So, now, Mick’s faced with the resulting problem-and/or-secret, and it won’t be solved unless he tells you. Because, really: how does any sane guy respectfully tell his girlfriend he wants to fuck her ass?

He’ll try. Anyway, he figures the timing is perfect: you’ve taken time off work to come and visit him for a week at the Las Vegas launch. As soon as you’d arrived at his room, he had you on his bed being fucked within an inch of your life—an instance that repeated itself many times over the course of the last few days.

Mick tries to trace the reasons why he feels a bit shy about telling you. Maybe because everyone thinks he’s a sweet guy, and sweet guys aren’t into things like these. Even if you know he gets a little less sweet in bed, he thinks this is still uncharted territory for the both of you.

“Babe?” He calls, snapping out of his reverie.

“Still changing,” you yell, muffled by the door to the bathroom.

He gets up, stretches, and knocks twice anyway; the sight of you unclothed isn’t novel to him. You open it and stare up. “Yeah?”

“I need to get my AirPods, I think I left them on the vanity.”

“Oh, fuck. Sure. Come in.” You let the door open all the way and he enters, pressing a kiss to your hair as he searches for his earphones. You’re half-dressed, in a tiny tee and lace panties, hair disheveled and thrown over one shoulder. You bend over to rifle through your luggage and he gulps. He’s a sweet guy. 

You huff, yanking a pair of jeans out of your suitcase. “I have no good clothes anymore.”

“Nonsense. Everything looks great on you,” your boyfriend replies, taking his AirPods from where they rest on the dresser.

You smile and scoff playfully, placing the jeans back inside before pulling out a dress. “The Mick Schumacher complimenting me? God, what’d I ever do to deserve this?” You turn to the large mirror, holding the dress in front of your body to envision how it might look. From this angle, your back is to him, ergo, he can see your pert ass clearly, flexing with every pose you make for the dress. He blinks hard.

You even lift your hair into a makeshift bun to try and see how the dress looks, but still you seem frustrated. “It looks great, babe,” he cuts in. “I promise.”

“Does it?” You turn back around to show him the dress, pouting. “I dunno. Something’s a bit off. Or maybe the shirt’s just ruining the look.” You toss him the dress, which lands on his face—it’s satin and smells like you. When it slides off his face and into his grip, you’re already halfway through tugging your shirt off.

Underneath you’re wearing a bra that matches the underwear—pretty, white lace—and Mick feels his heart thrum heavily. He’s a sweet guy, though. So he tosses you your dress when you reach out for it and watches you pull it on for real this time. “Huh,” you muse. “You were right.”

“Of course I was,” he says with a laugh, coming up behind you. His height advantage lets his chin rest comfortably on your head. “You look very pretty.”

“Mmm?” You ask with a light giggle, leaning backwards. “Danke, Mickie. What time do you need to be on the paddock?”

“In two hours. Minimum,” he says, his big hand resting on your waist. He lets it slide downward, until he’s at the top of your thigh, where the dress sits. He pinches the hem, traces it until he’s touching the back of your dress. “Don’t worry. No rush.”

“No rush…” You repeat, nodding, letting him feel you up, encouraging it. 

You shudder, feeling his hand venture underneath your dress, in the process raking it up. Everything happens in the mirror, like you’re watching it in real-time—Mick’s teasing, his slight smile, the way his eyes have totally darkened.

Already growing wet, you reach your hand behind you and it wraps around Mick’s bicep for leverage. It’s solid, defined under your grip, and it makes you even more aroused.

His hand rakes your dress up to your waist, so he gets a clear view of your panties. You meet his gaze, lidded and impossibly aroused, in the mirror. “This the pair I bought you?” You bite a smile back and nod. You remember the day he gifted this particular set to you; it’d come to your apartment in a pink box. You’d written him a thank you text and a This is so unnecessarily pricey Mickie, to which he’d replied with Nonsense, send me a picture. “I like it,” you say hoarsely.

“Ah, believe me, so do I,” he groans, his head coming down to press against your neck. “More than like. I love how good you look. All for me, yeah? You’re my pretty girl.”

You shiver at the show of possession, and your grip tightens as you nod. You’ve grown quiet, an air of anticipation surrounding you both. “You like that,” he says, and it’s more of a statement than a question. “You like being my pretty girl, huh? All dolled up and so, so good for me.”

“For you,” you confirm. “Yes.”

“Can you trust me?” He asks. And then, to push you further, “Will you be good for me?” His fingers travel to your front, press against the seat of your thong. His touch is strong and persistent, and he stuffs the fabric a bit into your cunt, just to watch you squirm; just to feel how wet you are. Not to make you wait, no. Not to edge you either. Because, he reminds himself before the strands of his sanity leave, because he’s a sweet guy.

“Always,” you say, shuddering. Already you’re showing signs of wanting to cum.

“Come on, let’s go to the bed, baby.” You nod and follow silently, letting him lift you up and lay you down. You giggle, watching him stare down at you before reaching out for him, craving a kiss.

Like always, Mick gives you what you want, dipping down to press your mouths together.

It turns hot and messy quick, your arms coming up to wrap around his broad shoulders, trying to pull him closer, feel him against you, his hands all over you. He grunts, stumbling a little, and parts from you, much to your chagrin.

You sit up, shifting yourself onto your knees so you’re more-or-less level—except he’s standing up and you’re on the edge of the bed. Your hair covers your eyes a little when you lean closer, pouting.

“Come on, fuck me, Mick.”

“Yeah?” He asks. When he’s horny, and when you’re coaxing him like this, like a vixen, like something he just can’t deny, his words get sharper, actions harsher. You’d look at your bruises in the mirror—angry thumb prints, hickeys where your tops and dresses won’t give it away (he’s a gentleman in that regard), bruised knees from bad race nights when he needs to fuck your throat raw and rid himself of frustrations—and smile. “You want me to stretch this little pussy out?”

He pushes you backwards again, and you flip yourself over, wiggling your ass at him. “Please?”

Christ, it’s like you know his pressing secret, like you want him to let it out, and stuff you full, and make you dumb.

He blinks. He’ll be sweet about this. As sweet as he can get, anyway. He sheds his shirt and gets behind you, holds you still when he tugs your thong to the side. His palms are big and rough against your skin, a bruising grip left on your hips, but still you can feel how gentle he is with you underneath it all.

You hear him pull his cock out, the elastic of his sweats stretching. He slides his cock in between your cheeks, and even through there you can feel how heavy, how big it is against you. You whimper at the feeling of it. “Come on, Mick,” you try again, voice airy from impatience. “I’ll take it.”

He lets his cock glide messily over your pussy, lubing himself up from the slick gushing out of you. You get wet so easily, he thinks. One touch, one word, and you’re like putty around him, needy and clingy and oh so aroused. You’re so wet, he mumbles, stupefied. You clench around nothing, grow even wetter. 

He pushes inside then, impatient as you are.

A series of fucks erupt from his mouth, finally sinking into your entrance. It’s just the tip, but still you’re tight around him, your legs shuffling to accommodate the stretch. “I’ve got you,” he says. His vision’s cloudy. He keeps thinking—if you’re this tight now, this good, this pliant, what more if you let him fuck you there?

You’re dizzy with pleasure—every fuck with Mick is as dizzying as the last. You urge him to stuff you further, your whimpers lost in your head, but you can hear them faintly. Please, Mick. Yes, deeper, fuck, more. And, as if to encourage you, he goes, yeah? Like it like this, baby?

He knows you do. He’s sweet that way, always giving and giving. But you know something’s different—you feel it, even as you gasp from the feeling of his dick fucking you open. He wants something different. Something more.

You’re so tight, so sensitive, throbbing hotly around his dick. He fucks you hard and dirty, keeping a hand on your back, making sure you’re always in an arch, perfect and poised just for him. Your eyes flutter. Mick, you say, but it’s lost in your own moans. I’m so close—I might—fuck—

He grunts, feels you tighten around him. He fucks you harder, splits you open. You let him. “Go on,” he says, and the authority of his voice brings you both back to a state of semi-lucidity. “Go, make a mess of yourself on my dick.”

He utters the instructions with an edge to his voice. It’s husky and a bit lazy, but still you follow, letting the coil in your stomach unknot itself. Your jaw hangs open, eyes rolling backwards, letting your moans leave you noisily and breathily. More, Mickie. I want all of it. I want more. You’re so wet, you’re practically squirting slick all over him.

You’re cumming hard and slow, dragging out your orgasm by fucking back against him. Each thrust is punctuated with a squelch of your cunt around him. You dig your nails into the cotton duvet, feeling slick run down your thighs. His words spur you on, and his pace doesn’t let up, instead going harder, deeper. You cum so fast for me, princess. Gonna go again? 

His shaft is almost dripping with how much you’ve released on it, a wet noise sounding every time he moves. Come on, he coaxes gently. Give me another. You’ll give me another, hmm?

Yes, Mickie, you moan. It’s loud and unashamed. Yes, fuck.

Still sensitive, clenching and squeezing, you let the stimulation take you over, drown you until you’re barely breathing, let alone speaking coherently. Already the coil twists again, and you anticipate the pending orgasm, the high, the release. You let Mick fuck it out of you. You let him give.

You cum again, building up and up and then crashing messily around him, whimpers leaving your mouth and shudders racking your body.

It hurts, almost, with how intense it is; it comes in the midst of heavy, rough thrusts pressing against the deepest parts of you. You’re almost wailing with how good it hurts, your arms giving and letting you collapse on the sheets. You convluse weakly, feeling him pull out, a gasp leaving your mouth.

In response, Mick presses a reassuring hand to the small of your back. You breathe deep, tension leaving your body, walls still fluttering. You’re so good for me, princess. You take whatever I give you. My good girl. It comes in waves, the praise.

He wrangles you atop him, so you’re semi-straddling him. Somehow, lying on his hard, sweaty chest, with your legs on either side of him, both of you barely clothed—you still in the set, Mick in his boxers only—feels so much more comfortable than the bed. “How are you, baby?”

You nod.

“So good. You take me so well every time.”

“You didn’t cum, Mickie,” you pout into his chest. You grind lazily against him, smiling when you feel his dick swell against your still-dripping cunt. He grunts. You’re insatiable, he says. Absolutely crazy.

“I want it,” you say quietly, into his ear, hot. “Give it to me again. Again.”

It’s like time slows, when your lips bite into his earlobe, your fingers lithe and dextrous between your bodies, tracing over the solid indents of his abs. His own arm sneaks over your waist, wraps around it, lets it rest over the sticky skin, and thinks. Maybe this is when he can solve his problem, let the secret spill out of him.

He grits his teeth, brought back to reality when your grip moves south to palm at his dick. “Princess,” he says, breathing unsteady. “You trust me, right?”

The air shifts. You stare down at him with big eyes, glassy from your previous stimulation. And you nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” He says. “Good.” He brings his other hand up to his mouth, covering two fingers with spit, and then, like a dam has broken: “M’gonna play with your ass, princess.”

Your eyes widen, but he starts nodding, smiling that sweet smile of his. So this is what he wanted. You inhale shakily, your hand leaving his dick to find purchase on his abdomen again. He heaves the both of you into a sitting position, so you can both breathe easier, but also so his access to your ass is easier, better.

He covers his digits with spit again. “It’ll feel good.” He reaches behind you and your hands are iron on his shoulders, your body rigid with anticipation, but also excitement.

He spreads you open, sinks his hands into the flesh there. “Trust me. Be a good girl.” He smears spit over the rim of your ass, thinks fuck, finally. “Relax for me.” 

Ah, you whimper. Ah. He feels you take his cock in your grip, jerking it twice, slurring a whimper into his ear: Fuck me, please. And because he knows you need a distraction from the stretch, he gives you the familiar kind, his dick tight and hard in your cunt. 

He thrusts upward to hit your sweet spot so you’re distracted when he’s rubbing tight circles, coaxing relaxation out of your ass. He feels your tension roll away. He’s got you like putty again. You’re caught up in the feeling, of bouncing on him; his hand momentarily leaves your ass to unclasp your bra and palm over your tits like a man starved.

Absently he thinks, is this what a nice guy does? Fucks his girlfriend’s pussy raw so he can claim her ass next? He squeezes his eyes shut, lets the thoughts filter out.

A strangled moan leaves you when he breaches your little hole. Just a bit more, he thinks, letting his finger back out, rubbing again, dipping lower to collect slick from your gushing cunt. He can tell you’re going to like this. “Okay?” You nod desperately, bouncing faster. Your slick is everywhere.

One hand leaves your tits to rub at your clit; the other stays rubbing circles over your rim, occasionally breaching. You nod. More, Mickie. Needy again. His fingers are wet and insistent against your clit and your ass, and the sensations flood you, knocking you into a state of euphoria. He stretches your ass open around one of his fingers, rubbing faster as he goes, feeling you get wetter.

“Mmmmf m’god,” you murmur, dazed. “Mick, I—I want more, fuck.” You cant yourself backwards to catch him.

He thrusts it, experimentally, collects more slick to make the glide easier. I know, he coos. I know, princess. Why don’t you give me one more? And you nod, because it’s easy, like this—when his dick is hard and deep in you. You bounce, each moan louder than the last, until finally your thighs are trembling and you’re releasing everywhere. 

It’s a lot—a lot of slick, a lot of pleasure. You can’t tear yourself away from his cock, or his hand insistently pressing into you from behind. You whimper, sensitive, eyes vacant with overstimulated pleasure. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, and you moan into it.

“Just fill me up,” you beg. “I can take it.” He uses your release to shove another finger in, relaxing you further, drawing moans out of you that interrupt your flow of thought. It feels so new. It feels so good. 

“Patience, princess,” he says. “I’m being nice this way.” He wants to split you open now, to be rough with it, to hear you whimper, to stuff you full of his cock and then his cum. But he’s patient. He’s sweet. He can wait.

He pulls out, rubbing the tip of his dick along the wetness of slick there. Your fingers dig into his broad shoulders, anticipating the breach. It comes, a dull burn that’s muted and slow, slow, slow. Mick grunts. “Can—” he tries, but the feeling is getting to him, the innate desire to fuck you stupid, to take advantage of how tight you feel. “Can you relax for me a little? Loosen up for me, princess.”

Okay, you murmur. I will. And you do, nodding as you allow yourself to relax. You can’t fathom the stretch. Mick’s already big—big shoulders, big arms, and feeling him so deep in you is addicting to a fault. 

He slips in further, eliciting a moan from both of you. Expletives leave his mouth in rapid German, and he tries to wedge a sorry in there for the language—but he can’t, just keeps grunting as he wrestles himself deeper inside you.

Relax, he grits. Almost there, so good, baby. You lean into him, nodding, letting him coax you through it, through the stretch, the pleasure. He wishes he could see how well you take him, but he knows that after this, it’s going to happen a lot. He’ll get his chance then, to bend you over, or to flatten your legs against your chest, make you take it better.

Give it to me, Mickie, you whimper. Your hole’s so tight around him, pussy wet and dripping everywhere; he doubts he’ll last long with how you squeeze him. Your tiny hole, so little just earlier, is stretching so well just to take him.

He grunts. He’s so deep in you. He’s positive you can feel him in your stomach. When he finally bottoms out, after a few moments of prolonged silence (save for the intermittent moans), you both exhale. “You’re,” you say, breathless. “You’re so deep inside me.”

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Love this dick,” you hum mindlessly, smiling, starting to grind on it. And fuck, why’d he ever keep this secret for so long?

Once you’ve started moving, he takes it as a greenlight to go faster, progressively speeding up his thrusts until they’re sloppy, loud with the noise of your slick and his precum. His hands are big on your waist, controlling how you move and how you stay still. “Fuck, baby,” he says, desperate. “You’re so perfect.”

For you, Mickie, you moan. 

He doesn’t realize how brash his actions are until he has to readjust his grip and sees indents of his thumbs on your hip, ones that will no doubt leave dark bruises. But he ignores them, and ignores the throb of arousal that ignites through him seeing you so wrecked and debauched like this, and thrusts harder. “Shit,” he grits. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You encourage him, bouncing back to meet his thrusts, embracing the burn of it. You’re certain you’ve cum twice already with how spent you feel, but the pleasure comes in waves every time he thrusts, sending you into a new kind of dizzy. You can feel just how split open you are, because your boyfriend is thick, and you can sense how wide open you are just from how well his dick fits. He sizzles into a space of just talking, talking, talking, to somehow redirect the stimulation—it falls into praise, questions, mumbled pet names.

Gonna fuck your little ass so full, he grunts. Full of my cock, my cum.

You cry out. Yes, you respond. Mickie—I want it.

I know you want it, he says. He mumbles something nondescript in German, voice heavy and rough. Then: Wanna take this dick, hmm?

He pulls out to the tip, then sinks back inside fast. It’s like whiplash, like the stretch has been played back at twice the speed. You moan loud, open-mouthed and desperate, nodding. Your mind is cloudy, cock-drunk, the way you always get when Mick’s been fucking you this long.

Gonna, he says, guttural. Gonna fuck this little hole. Stretch it out.

Then he’s fucking you fast and dirty, wetter and wetter, and you’re cumming again, watching yourself gush slick all over his lower abdomen and his dick, making the glide faster, easier.

You whimper all through it, prolonging your own release so you never have to let go of this euphoria. You hear him like he’s six feet below you—good girl, good girl, good fucking girl, yeah. Give me another.

Another—it seems impossible. But still you say, “Yeah, I’ll give you another,” your voice sticky with thirst. He fucks another one out of you, his pace rapid fast, dick pressing perfectly into your ass. It’s messy, your cum is everywhere, but you wedge another gush of slick out, and that’s what does it.

This time it’s you asking: cum in me, Mick. Make me full, please.

Mick looks down, watches you take him, your release everywhere, and grits his teeth. He presses his forehead to your bare shoulder, grunting, then filling you up. You moan at the feeling, already anticipating how good it’ll feel when he pulls out, lets it gush out of you in spurts. 

You both breathe heavily. Then: “So, anal, huh?”

And then you’re laughing, albeit tiredly, Mick lifting you up to run you both a bath where you make him cum one more time.

Later that night, when you’re asleep (a day of racing and anal sex is not for the weak, you’d said before skipping on Haas-sponsored dinner), he retreats to Lando’s room to play poker.

“Where’s your girl?” The Brit asks, a cheeky smile on his face. “She passed out?”

“Woah, locker room talk much,” Alex says defensively from the couch. “Keep it down, you nymphos.”

“Just trying to gauge if Mick here tired his girlfriend out.”

Mick reviews his cards and offers a smile. “I would never.”

“Yeah, Mick’s vanilla,” George jokes. “Lando, stop bringing your porn addiction into our poker games.”

“Vanilla?!” Alex says, interest reignited.

“Have you seen the guy?” Lando points blank at Mick, who stares back with an amused smile. “The press calls him F1’s golden boy. The cutest little puppy on the paddock. He just isn’t into tiring sex.”

“Let alone”—George stifles a laugh—“what you’re into, Lando.”

Mick hums, shrugging. “What can I say? I’m a sweet guy.”

#f1 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher x reader #f1 x reader #mick schumacher drabble #mick schumacher blurb

[shakirawastaken]

dsmp if...they wanted to propose to you!

dsmp if... series goes wild  anyway

dream: - he’d put himself out there with a poise of confidence and strategy - like bro is prepared . he knows when where what why and how all this shit is happening  - but is also kinda like “ill just wing it and we’ll see how it goes lol” - get this man a schedule - he doesnt want to do a whole public thing so in my head i see him proposing to you in like a restaurant but like a fancy one - hed splurge for sURE  - one of those guys who had like 50 million meeting with ring companies to design the perfect one - asked his mom for help on designing a ring  - he had the blueprint for a speech in his head but when the moment came he went with the flow  - but when hes proposing hed remember his speech so hed be like - “i had this speech that id written, but looking at you made me forget it all, will you marry me?” or some shit like that LMFAOOO - pays sapnap money to come eat the place too so he can take pictures 

sapnap: - okay sapnap is a family man in my head - hed also want to do a destination proposal - maybe greece? rome? somewhere not in america is what im feeling - or hed do it in a fucking ranch in texas or like down the street from the dream team house either one - EITHER WAY he would want your parents and his parents MINIMUM to be there - searches up “best wedding ring designs 2022″ in google and hopes and prays - hed have one or two meeting to plan the ring but i think he’d be confident in what you like  - even if he has no clue - like “so sir, do you think your future fiance would like a rose gold band or gold band?” “rose gold for sure” *has no idea what you like * - would not try to plan a speech, he knows he’d forget it and wouldn’t even use it - saves all that material for the vows - so confident you’ll say yes that he starts calling ahead to look at venues to tour - LMFAO IMAGINE YOU ANSWER HIS PHONE AND THE GUY IS LIKE “hello yes we’re calling nick because he had interest in touring our wedding venue! congrats on the engagement!” - and youd be like “tf” - so you know - but dont tell him you know please it would make his year 

george: - is nervous - “dream what if they say no idk” “bro youre a fucking idiot” - def doesnt want to do a public proposal, he likes the private aspect - so he does it at home or some shit and his phone up to record cause bro knows youd be mad if you had no memento - but he doesnt do it secretly - hed press record and set it up so you can obviously see it - and youre expecting some prank - but then he gets down on one knee and youre tearing up and shi right in the middle of your kitchen - get mad at him for not letting you dress up and look nice for it - has a speech planned out in his head. word for word. and recites that shit back to you like its fucking drama class - once u say yes hes on discord like “SHE SAID YES” and sapnaps like “no fucking shit” - he’s the type of guy to make a ring that he likes and hopes that you like it too - luckily you do like the ring so it all works out - if not just tell him he wont be mad hell just go make a new one

quackity: - asks you like a few months earlier if you want to get married - “do you wanna get married” “sure” - so he knows youre locked in and ready to go LMFAOO even if you interpreted it as light hearted at the time - because of that theres a little suspicion that goes on in your mind when you see him go “i gotta take this call” or “no im def not looking up wedding venues 2023 what do you mean” - but you being the great s/o you are just ignore it - is he proposing or did he take you on a late night drive to an outlook thing - is he proposing or did you catch karl in the bushes with a camera - is he proposing or did he say youre beautiful - is he proposing or did he get down on one knee?? YK WHAT IM SAYING - bro just stares at you and you stare at him like - “babe” “babe” love - youre nodding ur head yes before bro gets a chance to speak - which is good cause he didn’t know what he wanted to say - not that he doesnt know what to say its just - he has so many words for you that he cant put them into words - was ready to blurt out a mixture of spanish and english and hope u caught his drift

karl: - enlists the help of his friend - “hey tina take y/n to get their nails done” - “hey brooke take y/n to get a new dress” - “hey sapnap give me money to buy y/n a ring” LMFAOFMOA - no hed be saving up that shit for AGES - started a proposal dream pinterest board the minute he knew you were the one - subtly ran ideas by you over the course of the years you were together - you didnt think of anything. blissfully unaware - “look at this picture on pinterest!” “oh its sO PRETTY!! imagine getting engaged there” - *saves it to the board* - BUT AS A RESULT he cant make up his mind on where to propose - so he just picks one enie-meanie-miney-mo or however you spell it  - wherever it ends up being its so sweet - mr beast or someone tricks you into coming to the location under the guise of a video  - and you show up and its karl in a suit - “lets go on a walk love” “okay?” - you get an idea of whats about to happen

wilbur: - stalks your pinterest stalks your moms pinterest stalks your ex friends sister met someone at the club and he kissed her’s pinterest - is SO CONFIDENT he’s got everything right because all his information is form you directly - plans that shit out to a T  - “okay phil at 11:02 am you call y/n and say good morning any plans for the day then tommy at 11:34 am call y/n and ask her if she wants to join you for a vlog at [location]” “dude wil we know lets just get on with it” - chooses somewhere with ambience with music perhaps by the ocean or a river or something - meticulously listens to all of spotify for the perfect song to play in the background - hired james and ash (professionals) to film  -  public proposal wants the world to know that he is wilbur and he loves you -  isnt nervous about proposing but is scared something is gonna go wrong -  the whole build up to the proposal is a blur to him  - he wants it to be perfect - hes mentally checking everything off in his head as it happens - “okay so we arrived on time, check” “we’re standing in the right direction check” - when the time comes to propose he blanks - cause everything went right and now its showtime - says whatever is on his mind and then gets on track - “oh my god everything i alright this is amazing! but i love you dear like a lot and...” - cue cheering from tommy (and a lot of soft smiles from random people) when you say yes 

please send me requests it took me days to figure out what to write about here

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #george x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #karl jacobs x reader #karl x reader #quackity x reader #shakira shakira writes #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp if...

[adhdduckie]

felix felices, or liquid luck f.w. x fem! reader.

my masterlist

irl mutuals dni (你没有看到我）

music choice; yo bro wtf

t.w.: swearing. (sorry i couldnt help myself)

word count: 3.5k

synopsis; strangers (hallway crushes) to lovers, with the help of felix felicis potion, or the liquid luck potion!!

here you go anon! hope you enjoy <3 sorry i took so long.

im so sunburnt help

(slightly inspired from my own events but let me tell you i died inside. i hate chemistry oh my lord, potions reminds me too much of it lol)

warnings; not proof read. 3 (?) mentions of y/n, a really stupid misunderstanding. reader is described with hair that can get blown into their face.

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everybody knew fred weasley. it was impossible not to, as they were hogwart's most well known pranksters since the era of the marauders.

of course, you did not happen to know him well enough yourself. you had a couple of lessons with him, such as; potions, herbology, and arithmetics.

His brother and he never really contributed anything to class discussion, only ever helpfully supplying mischief and jokes, and whatever they deemed interesting to themselves.

however, you noticed him wherever you went. It seemed as if it was almost impossible not to, he just happened to pop up randomly everywhere. In hogsmeade, in the hallways between classes, and in your dreams. (not in a weird way you weirdos).

Maybe the first time you ever really started thinking about him was when he appeared in your dream…you weren't too sure. But soon enough, you began thinking about him way too much, counting down the lessons till you could see him again in a next lesson.

you began searching for him in the hallways, the common room, the dining hall. even in places you know he would never be, but it just seems like you were always looking for him.

in lessons, everything he did, you were drawn to. you knew what he had, knew what he liked, and you spoke to him only every once in a while.

'this sucks.' you'd tell your friends. they'd laugh, telling you you should just talk to him more.

which isn't really helpful. you would think.

through some miracle ( or horror, you really couldn't decide.) you ended up sitting with fred in potions. Technically it wasn't a miracle, you had just been goofing off with your friends, being too loud for dear old snapey, you'd been moved next to him.

'oh god oh god oh god oh god' was the only thing going through your head as you packed up your desk to move next to him. your friend could barely hold in her laughter, having to slap her own hand over her mouth to muffle it.

'oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done to deserve this oh my god' is what you were thinking as you walked towards the back, brushing past george as you walked towards fred.

You sat down at his desk, and he turned his face to you, giving you a soft smile. you pray internally that your face does not erupt into flames.

professor snape, once satisfied that you are suffering, turns back to the board, tapping his wand impatiently on the board.

"today," he drawls, "we will be attempting the felix felicis potion. failure to produce a functioning potion will result in a fourteen inch parchment describing every step you made and what you did wrong." he finishes, piercing his gaze into every one of his students.

you wince. fourteen inches for a mistake? seems costly. Potions has never been your strong point. (for the purpose of this, we're gonna pretend fred is excellent at potions.) You pray to the gods above that you don't mess this up for fred.

as snape sits down on his desk, working through marking some paper. as you get up to go get the ingredients as fred sets up the cauldron. you come back, setting down the ashwinder egg, squid bulb, murtlap growth, thyme occamy eggshell, and powdered common rue on the desk.

fred smiles again, thanking you for your help.

"so we have to set in the ashwinder egg first. you wanna do it?" fred asks, as you tie up your hair. he watches as you do so, and you nod, trying to fight off any embarrassment.

he steps back from the cauldron, letting you do so. your hands are shaking and you are doing everything in your power to stop it. in your haste, you knock over the murtlap growth, but before it falls, fred's hand flashes out, catching it in his hand.

"sorry!" you apologise frantically, and he laughs. It's the nicest laugh you've ever heard, deep and infectious, a laugh you'd be able to hear across the room and still recall years later.

"don't worry. i caught it." he says, setting it back on the table.

you smile, avoiding eye contact. you manage to finish the task, and with his help with mixing, the felix felicis is done. while he was mixing, you tried to pretend not to notice his hands. they're nice, to say the least. his hands are rough and calloused from years of being on the quidditch team, as a beater. he's got small white scars littered across his hands from years of experimenting with george over their joke shop products. you have to drag your eyes away.

The felix felicis potion is finished, and it's the most beautiful shade of gold you've ever seen. You would describe it akin to what you would imagine liquid gold to be, and it fits perfectly into a little vial the size of your middle finger. all that work for a little vial no bigger than your middle finger.

it's still the most valuable potion in the world, though.

the potion has large drops of gold leaping across the surface like goldfish, but it never seems to spill out of the vial. you put the stopper over it, and you hand it to fred, your fingers brushing against his warm ones in the process.

"thanks." he seems to whisper, even though he speaks at normal volume.

"we work well together, i think. usually i can't even get a basic potion done." you tell him, laughing a little.

"i bet that's not true." he responds, the corner of his lips upturned.

"it is." you laugh.

you both return to your seats after setting all the equipment away, and as the first group finished, it means you get to present it first.

snape looks at it approvingly, the first time he's ever regarded something you've done, as done well. you can't help but smile, and snape speaks. "i'm glad that you were able to work well once i removed you from your friends. mr. weasley will now be your partner."

you stare at him in slight disbelief, before shrugging and saying, "yes professor snape."

"as the first students done, and the best potion made, you may keep it. decide amongst yourselves which of you gets it." snape finishes, before shooing you away from his desk.

you both stare at each other, your eyes meeting his hazel brown ones. "you have it-" "i don't want-" you both say, before he tries to hand it to you.

you push his hand away, shaking your head, "it's alright, you can keep it."

"no, i think you should keep it. after all, you need it for potions, right?" he jokes, pushing it into your hands.

you gape at him in mock shock. "how could you say that! We only did so well because of me!" you respond, in mock indignation.

he laughs, as he closes your palm over the small vial, and you realise you've lost. however, you decide, you will sneak it into his bag when he's not paying attention.

the end of the lesson has never come so fast. And for the first time in your life, you're slightly disappointed to leave potions. before leaving you levitate the felix felicis potion into his bag with your wand, and you grin wickedly. you'll just have to see him in your other classes later.

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

Fred Weasley thinks he is absolutely screwed. After a year of having a crush on a girl who he does not talk to often, despite sharing three lessons with her, he is now partners in potions with her for an indefinite period of time.

He doesn't know when he first noticed you, but god, is he glad he did. he thinks you may be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, with the brightest smile, and the sweetest personality.

so imagine his surprise, that this sweet girl, has gotten in trouble for talking so much (he doesn't care, he liked listening to your voice)

while you were freaking out and chanting 'oh shit' in your head, something similar was going through fred's. george coughs, unsuccessfully hiding his laugh behind it. fred elbows george to get him to shut up as you approach the table, and george gathers his things, to leave. he winks at fred, before walking to your previous seat next to your friend, flashing a quick and easy smile.

fred wishes he could talk to you so easily, and he tries his best not to show his nervousness, flashing you what he thinks is an awkward smile. (it isnt, it looks natural as hell, not to mention hot as hell)

while you make the potion, he watches you with fervour, as if he's scared he'll miss a single movement you'll make, hungrily soaking up your smiles like a man starved.

every touch feels like something he's been missing, like a hot cup of chocolate after a walk in winter, and he's scared he's going to get addicted.

he wants to give you the felix felicis, and is happy when you finally give up. after potions, in herbology, he reaches into his bag, to find the felix felicis. he laughs, before searching across the classroom for you.

when he makes eye contact, he raises an eyebrow, holding it in his palm to show you, his heart fluttering in his chest. he looks as composed and calm as ever to you, but he knows differently.

it becomes a game, the felix felicis. it takes over several months, and you start to get creative with it, hiding it in his mail, he hid it in your textbooks somehow, you hid it in his hair, etc etc.

it became a competition, who could come up with the craziest spots. after you hid it a couple months later in what you hope was his jacket pocket.

it's been awhile since you had first sat with fred in potions because of professor snape, and you're so happy to say that you've grown closer over the months, even spending time together out of lessons at cafes to study, or in the library together.

after hiding the felix felicis in his jacket pocket while on a walk with him in the winter months, you wait for his turn.

one day passes. nothing happens. another day, and another. four days later, and it still hasn't turned up yet. where is it? you wonder. you check for it everywhere you go, turning your entire dorm upside down searching for it.

he couldn't have lost it, right? it was in his jacket pocket. could it be that he's bored of this game, and he just decided to keep it? must be.

you're disappointed, of course, it was very enjoyable. but there's nothing you can really do.

imagine your surprise, when you walk into the dining hall, to see fred standing with his brother, and what- what's that in his hand? none other than the felix felicis.

you watch as he takes a swig of it, setting the rest of the vial in his pocket. his brother pats him on the back in what seems to be encouragement, and he walks over to your friend.

he smiles at her, and she smiles back. they talk and for some reason your heart starts to get a bit heavy.

'did he just drink the felix felicis just to talk to her?' you ask yourself. unable to stand there and watch, you turn around and walk out of the dining hall, threading your fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face.

something dark, sick and familiar is brewing in the pit of your stomach, it's pulling, pushing your heart strings.

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

fred weasley is going to ask you out. he toys with the felix felicis vial in his pocket as he waits for you to enter the dining hall, turning it over and over again in his pocket as he leans against one of the columns with george.

you don't show up for awhile, and fred's wondering where you are.

"go ask her friend." george states, pushing him forward, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

fred hypes himself up, and he takes the vial out of his pocket, swigging a sip as he stalks towards your friend. the liquid is thick but light in his mouth, tasting of golden hawthorn berries and honey.

he taps her on the shoulder and smiles at her nervously.

"hey. where's y/n?" he asks your friend

"she's still upstairs i believe." she responds with a smile.

she turns around to see you walking out of the hall, and her smile drops.

"oh."

"what?" fred asks.

"i think she may have misunderstood what's going on." she sighs, and gives fred a slightly strained smile. "you couldn't have waited till after you spoke to me to drink it, could you?"

fred flashes a confused look. "whatever do you mean?"

"hasn't the entire potion been a game? who could hide it the best?" your friend asks him.

"i mean, yeah, it has. but i don't see the problem…?" he scratches the back of his neck.

she rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'boys…' freds eyes narrow, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"right. think of it this way. imagine you've had a crush on this guy for ages. you're not exactly close, but you talk. you have one 'special' thing you do together. for example, hiding the potion….and then you see them keeping it for themselves….you got me?" Your friend finishes, raising her eyebrows at him.

he stares, before realisation finally dawns on him.

"oh shit." he mutters, hand threading through his ginger locks.

"well?" your friend asks, somewhat impatient. "go after her."

fred nods, sprinting across the dining hall, after you. praying to himself that he can fix this, and george throws him a thumbs up as he sprints past.

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

'fuck.' you think as you sit down on the edge of the astronomy tower. you can't help but replay the moment of fred drinking the felix felicis before he speaks to your friend. he looked so nervous but so hyped.

you're not about to jump off the astronomy tower, but it's a nice place to be where you need some time alone, to think. you need that now.

that sick, familiar and painful thing pulling at your gut earlier, its back. theres nothing you can do now, but just sit back and let it happen, you suppose.

She's your friend, and so is fred. you have to be okay with it. it's not worth losing friends over.

the wind picks up, ruffling your hair into your face, tangling it into knots. the rain starts pouring down, dropleta cascading down your face.

turning your face up to the sky, you let out a deep sigh, feeling tears prickling at your waterline, fighting the tears back. 'no. you don't have a right to be upset.' you chatise.

'he's not yours. he never was.' you need to remind yourself. this isn't fair to either of them, they had no control over their feelings.

despite that, the tears continue to fall. you can't compete, this isn't fair. she knew you liked him. she knew how you felt. you literally spoke to her about it.

There is nothing. nothing you can do about this. you are just going to have to wait for the feelings to go away. it wouldn't be fair to like your best friend's boyfriend. (getting ahead of yourself, aren't we?)

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

fred weasley is freaking out. he can't find you. you're not in the common room, in any of your lessons for the day (yes, he knows your schedule), you're not in any of the bathrooms (he didn't go in, he just asked the girls who came out of the bathrooms), and you're not near the black lake.

in his haste, he almost runs in to someone. "shit." he grunts

"watch where you're going!" someone says. he looks up and realises it's harry.

"oh it's you. you alright there, fred?" harry says, pulling fred up to his feet.

"harry!" fred basically shouts. "where's the marauders map?" he practically begs, and harry raises a brow in response.

"not the time. i need it." harry nods, pulling it out of his pocket, before handing it over to fred.

"oh shit." fred whispers, seeing your name pop up at the astronomy tower. how could he forget it? you told him weeks ago that it was your favourite place in the school.

shoving the marauders map back into harry's arms, fred yells his thanks to harry as he speeds through the hall, skipping steps three at a time to get to you, he stumbles a couple of times, not hitting the floor, but catching himself just in time.

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

your back is to the door, and the combination of the rain and the wind prevents you from hearing it open.

"y/n? are you alright?" fred asks quietly, taking a deep breath and sitting besides you.

you turn your face away, wiping away the marks of tears before turning back to him.

"yeah. just enjoying the rain. it's nice, isn't it?" you tell him, trying to change the topic, giving him a soft smile.

you both stare off into the distance, slowly watching all the dark rain clouds move away from the astronomy tower.

he notices that you're drenched, and he sighs. he pulls his jumper over his head, pulling his wand out from his pocket as he does so. "exaresco" he whispers as you dry off.

he passes you his jacket, which you accept without a word. it's still warm with his body heat, and smells faintly of the quidditch pitch and cinnamon, tinged with a scent of something burnt.

"so. you and (friend's name), huh?" you say to attempt to lighten the mood. turning your face to him, you send him a (fake) sly smile, nudging him in the arm.

he stares at you, furrowing his eyebrows. since he finally knows how you feel about him, why are you acting like this?

"no." his reply is short, straight to the point.

you gape at him, mouth falling open and he lets out a deep chuckle, his index finger reaching out and pushing your jaw back up.

"what do you mean no?? I saw you going up to her, drinking the felix felicis." you say, pushing his hand away from your face with a confused frown.

"it wasn't for her." He states simply, hoping his answer is enough for you to finally understand his feelings.

you stare blankly at him.

"you're one of the smartest people i know, but you're so oblivious." he states, sighing playfully.

"then who's the lucky girl?" you ask him, not really wanting to hear the answer anyway. your stomach's already feeling heavy, and he's not even said anything yet. is it katie bell? angelina johnson? who else has he spoken to that he might like?

fred lets out a groan. how can you be so oblivious.

"what?" You laugh, nudging him and trying to get out an answer from him. your hands are getting cold, so you put them in your (fred's) jacket pockets. there's something cold inside, and you pull out a familiar vial.

"why would you think there's anyone else?" fred asks, eyes trained on you as you turn the vial over and over again in your hands.

that catches your attention and your eyes turn to him. "what do you mean?"

fred laughs, his hand combs through his ginger locks as he pushes them back nervously.

"I'm trying, and failing apparently, to tell you i like you." he finally says, laughing nervously again, avoiding eye contact with you.

you gape, for the umpteenth time tonight, before realising he must be joking. you force out a laugh, slightly (super) disappointed. "you're so funny." you deadpan.

"i'm not joking."

"you must be." You respond, slightly hurt that he finds something like this funny. you're facing away again, so you don't notice him look at you. something steels inside of him, and he's confident this will end in his favour.

he reaches up, his hand finding your jaw, and he pulls your face back to him.

something in his eyes is dark, and you realise for the first time, that he's not joking. there's something similar to adoration in his eyes, and it's everything you do in your power to stop from gasping.

"i'm not joking." he repeats.

you can feel his breath on you, fanning across your skin like a warm embrace.

"are you sure?" you whisper, trying to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"yes." his response is short, sure and straight to the point. "i am"

the next thing you know, his lips are on yours, breaths mingling together. he pulls you closer, and you feel yourself melt into his embrace.

you pull back from the kiss, and he lets out a unhappy groan.

"does this mean…you like me?" you ask him.

he glares at you, and you laugh. "i'm only joking." is your response. he grins, his forehead resting against yours.

you lie your head on his shoulder, and the both of you enjoy each other's company. this all happened because of felix felics. you can't help but feel so grateful. maybe you should stop hating potions now.

#fred weasley #x reader #duckiewrites #fred weasley x reader #duckie's inbox #wizarding world #hp fandom #harry potter #george weasley #fred x reader #gryffindor reader #gryffindor #the weasleys #weasley family #asks #sorry anon it took so long #fred

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic

[ughgoaway]

we went to winter wonderland // day 2

content warnings; swearing maybe? I think that's it??

a/n; day 2!!! I have only been to Winter Wonderland like once, so if this is inaccurate... oops! but I did have a good time despite it being a bit shit, which is how I felt writing this fic too lol. also I did use a quote in here I saw online, but I can not for the life of me find who wrote it, as soon as I do, I will edit this and credit them!!! <3

word count; 2k

(this fic takes place pre-relationship)

12 days masterlist

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“Alexa! Play Daddy's song!!” Matty hears his daughter shouting at the Alexa from the kitchen. He smirks to himself once he understands what she means.

Matty was careful what songs he showed Annie, knowing she was at the age of endless questions, and he didn't exactly feel like explaining the intricacies of some of his songs. 

But last week, Matty had to run into a meeting and left Annie in the studio with Ross and George. As they sat there and planned the setlist, any time Annie heard the title of a song she didn't know, she would pipe up and say, “What does that one sound like?” and either George or Ross would play a small bit of the song. When Me and You Together song was brought up, they thought it was about as harmless as 75 songs can get, so they played the whole song for her.

They watched her eyes light up as the song played, and by the end, she was dancing around the room with them both and singing along, but once it stopped, she asked for it again. And again. And again. Now it was a week later, and Matty was sick of the sound of his own voice, which is not something he thought was possible.

As Matty strolls into the front room to see Annie looking grumpy at the Alexa for not understanding her request, he scoops her up and sits on the sofa with her on his lap. She shrieks as he picks her up and crosses her arms over her chest once she's sat down. 

“Annie, sweetheart, im so glad you like my song, but im not sure we need to listen to it again,” Matty says gently, trying not to upset his daughter. Annie huffs in his lap and immediately pouts, and it almost breaks him. But he manages to stay strong. 

“Why don't we do something else instead, hmm? You could show me some of your new toys? We can even play Barbies if you like?” Matty says, trying to bargain with Annie. He wasn't very good at the whole discipline side of parenting. But how could he be when Annie gives him those puppy dog eyes and a shaky bottom lip?

But before either of those comes out, her face lights up with an idea, and Matty knows that doesn't bode well. “Okay, we can stop listening to my most favourite song if we can go to Winter Wonderland like it says!!” Annie says, stressing most favourite in an attempt to guilt trip her dad, and it works.

They had gone to Winter Wonderland last year, and Annie had the time of her life. Some of the kiddy rides made Matty feel his age though, and after a 3rd go on the teacups, he had to sit stationary for a good 15 minutes. Despite that, that day was one of Matty's favourite days with Annie, seeing her face brighten at the rides and all the people, watching her sit on Santa's lap and ask him for a new dog, “my doggy mayhem needs a friend!!” but nothing compared to their trip on the Ferris wheel. 

Watching the skyline of London reflect in her eyes was a sight Matty would never forget, her giddiness as she tried to spot their house (she insisted she found it, and who is Matty to disagree?) and the different colours of light slide over her ecstatic face. The purple and pink lights shining in her wide eyes as she stared at the people below giggling was the highlight of his Christmas. 

Annie sat on his lap as they went down on the wheel, and before they even reached the bottom, she was fast asleep in his arms. Watching her eyes flutter on the train home made Matty's heart swell in a new way. He didn't think he could love something this much.

So when she asked, Matty couldn't help but nod his head and get attacked with hugs and squeals.

////////////////////

The sun had gone down about 20 minutes ago, and Annie was determined it was now time to go on the Ferris wheel, “I need to see all the pretty lights, Daddy!” she says, dragging Matty over to the queue.

Matty laughed and followed behind her. A giant stuffed bear obstructed his view slightly, but he blindly trusted Annie's directions. After a long day of rides and fairground games, Matty wouldn't mind a gentle spin around the Ferris wheel.

Little did he know you were thinking the exact same thing, only a few people ahead of him in the queue. 

You hadn't planned to go to Winter Wonderland that day, not even thinking about it before you were in central London. But on the tube, you saw a poster and suddenly felt drawn to it. The hustle and bustle of people and the decorations were sure to make you feel a bit less shit. 

You couldn't go to Christmas at home this year, not being able to travel due to severe weather warnings, so you went up to your mum's house a few weeks before for an early Christmas dinner. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but how wrong you were.

The whole family was invited, and you were inundated with questions about a significant other, “Oh do you have a boyfriend yet love?”

And then, having to cope with the sad eyes and the pity after you say no, “Oh don't worry, sweetheart. It'll happen for you eventually.” 

They all said the same thing, pity followed by an attempted set-up, “Actually… if you're still single, there's a lovely young man I work with that would be perfect for you!” 

And thus the spiel began, describing a man who you're sure is nice enough but definitely wasn't perfect for you. Even if he was, you couldn't date right now anyway. You were well and truly stuck on Matty.

You can't think of anyone else. Your head is full of him. Your heart is full of him. You think of him when you wake up, what he's doing right now. Whether he's making breakfast for Annie, or maybe if he's at the studio already. Throughout the day, small things remind you of him. The guitar that sits in the corner of your room, an abandoned attempt at a hobby, now sat as nothing but a reminder of the man you were violently in love with. You turned on the radio each day to distract yourself, but now something as basic as music has you yearning for him. One day, as you were getting ready to go out, one of his songs came on, and you froze on the spot. You didn't end up going out that day. You stayed home and ached over a man who you could never have. 

The worst time was at night. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the ticking of the clock teasing you. Reminding you that each minute you don't sleep translates to an hour of grumpiness tomorrow morning. But you couldn't help it. Your mind was swimming in him. You thought of lying in bed together, chatting, and giggling. And falling asleep in his arms. You'd be able to listen to his heartbeat rather than the tick tok of that fucking clock.

So you lie, you say to your aunts, “Oh I don't need romance! Im perfectly happy.” But you say you don't need love like a woman on a diet says she doesn't want dessert, you long for it but you don't think you deserve it. 

To try and distract yourself, you dragged yourself out of bed and into central London. The poster convinced you, and soon enough, you were standing in front of Hyde Park with a ticket booked. 

For a solo adult, you had a pretty fun day, going around to all the stalls and buying unnecessary treats for you and your loved ones. You ate some overpriced food and went on a few rides. But you were waiting until the sun had set for your favourite activity, the Ferris wheel. 

You get loaded onto a carriage, and you hear the ride operator ushering more people on saying, “There's only one in here so you two can join her, okay?” You keep focused on the view outside, not too worried about who you're going to be spending the trip around with.

That was until the door shut, and you heard a breathy voice say, “Hi.” 

Why do you recognise that voice? Oh- OH. you turn, and you're met with the same pair of eyes that run through your mind all night, the same eyes that seem to follow you wherever you go.

A few hard blinks later, you assure yourself you're not dreaming, that is Matty Healy standing in front of you with a bear almost the same size as his daughter.

Speaking of his daughter, you catch her in your arms moments later, Annie had thrown herself in to hug you; clearly over the moon with your presence.

“Well hi guys!” You say, somehow managing to keep your voice even, “So nice to see you both” Your eyes flick from Annie's up to Matty, who simply nods, dumbfounded. 

You make a slightly awkward conversation with the two of them, both you and Matty reeling from the surprise encounter. But Annie wasn't phased, easily recounting her whole day to you and laughing when she detailed how ill Matty got on the teacups. 

“In my defence,” Matty says, already smiling at your poorly suppressed giggles, “they spin really fast, okay! Im getting too old for teacups,” he says with a flick of his hand.

Just as you say, “No!” Annie says, “Yes! Too olddddd” dragging out the last letter. All of you burst out laughing, Matty gives Annie a pinch and calls her cheeky.

Once you reached the top, you, Matty, and Annie all quieted down and stared out at the view, all immersed in the London skyline sparkling back at you. Annie stood below you with her face pressed into the window as you and Matty had a quiet conversation. 

“I always wait until it's dark to come up here, I love the lights too much to come up during the day” you whisper to Matty.

You don't turn your head to face him until the silence is too much, and you almost jump when you see him already looking at you. 

But all Matty wanted to do was look at you. The way the lights glittered in your eyes, your smile as they flicked over the view. The way you squinted and leaned in closer, trying to figure out what landmark you were looking at. He especially loved the way your hand was subconsciously stroking Annie's back the whole time. 

He felt like a real fucking family. And god, it hurt. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop staring at you, willing to endure any pain if it meant he could continue living in this delusion he had created. 

Any beautiful view was lost on the two of you now, just staring at each other with dopey smiles on your faces. Tracing each feature with your eyes, desperate to memorise this. To live it over and over again. 

Annie tugged at her dad's leg, and that finally pulled his attention back. You were nearly at the bottom of the wheel, and Annie's eyes were heavy with sleep. She rubbed at her face with closed fists and then stuck her arms up. Matty immediately scooped her up and held her close, letting her eyes shut and resting her head on his shoulder. She was falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

Neither of you spoke on the small remainder of the journey, not wanting to wake her up. But as he walked off trying to balance both Annie and the bear, Matty gave you a small smile and a wave. You did the same and walked in the opposite direction.

That night, it wasn't just you staring at your ceiling. Matty was up until 3 am watching the moonlight dance and fantasising about the life he had for 10 minutes. A life with you.

#christmas75 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fic #teacher au! #i am unsure about this fic but thats not a new development #m&yts remains one of their best songs

[ilynpilled]

Have you seen that post on how Cersei pushing Jaime into forcing sex on her is an abuse technique on her end?

no, but i checked his tag now lol. while i know that george explicitly expressed that the sept scene was intended as consensual by him, i still believe that jaime’s pattern of pushing to have sex with cersei, and how, speaks of an unhealthy relationship with consent in this relationship on his part, a lack of respect for boundaries on his part, as well as objectification on his part that cannot be removed from the context of this society’s gender dynamics, especially when it concerns cersei’s themes and her character (to contextualize and expand on what i mean, heres a very quick collection of quotes regarding how jaime’s relationship to cersei, sex, swordplay, and even violence blend or function similarly in relation to very heavy dissociative tendencies):

i understand the jc dynamic’s set up:

“She has never come to me, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask.”

“She wanted to draw his face to hers for a kiss. Later, she told herself, later he will come to me, for comfort. “We are his heirs, Jaime,” she whispered. “It will be up to us to finish his work. You must take Father’s place as Hand. You see that now, surely. Tommen will need you . . .”

i also understand how george seems to establish communication and patterns within this dynamic that reinforce his expressed intention, which is also apparent in a scene that a third party witnesses and how that mirrors the sept, and i obviously also do not think these two would do all of this healthily and establish things akin to safe words (though i take issue with a lot of things here still when it comes to grrm and how consent is framed):

and i understand george framing cersei utilising sex, or even love and affection, as a means to have power, and that being a big factor in this relationship’s dynamic and how she takes control (see instances when cersei does initiate— jaime’s narration is not entirely correct, we know of the inn, which is unique but important, so it is interesting that he chooses not to connect this until feast, that would mean confronting something he doesn’t want to— and what motives she has: “She smiled for him, so sweetly. “Do you remember the first time I came to you like this? It was some dismal inn off Weasel Alley, and I put on servant’s garb to get past Father’s guards.” “I remember. It was Eel Alley.” She wants something of me. “Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?” His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe, fading to a whisper. For a moment he dared to hope that all she wanted was the comfort of his arms.”

but i do not think that changes much about the issues on jaime’s part, or how a lot of fandom frames cersei. we know cersei only enjoys sex with jaime (it is sex that is categorized as different from lancel, osney, taena, and robert — all of these also cannot be conflated for obvious reasons — by her), she says so, but that doesn’t change that she still believes that it is her only source of power and means through which she can reach equal ground within her society. we can understand why cersei thinks and functions this way: we understand how she was reared and how she was viewed as a sexual object and a tool for political transactions with no autonomy since childhood by every adult around her. we see how and why jaime is needed by her to feel “whole”, and how he is her “sword.” it is also not difficult to acknowledge that while the abusive dynamic is not what i would consider equal: jaime does not verbally berate her to the degree she does him, does not physically hit her and throw things at her, does not use her or emotionally abuse her the way that she does him (and no, i personally do not agree with people that say they are equally terrible to each other or they equally benefit from this relationship), jaime still ultimately has power over her due to his gender (the physical is obvious, but on top of that this is a medieval society with extreme levels of gender inequality), and nothing will really erase that because this relationship does not exist in a vacuum. this is not diminished by how this relationship functions, her status as queen and jaime’s status as her kg, and other variables that play into the unequal power dynamic. it will always have to be acknowledged that cersei is a woman + everything that comes with that being the case in a medieval society with complete patriarchal domination. i also think the unhealthy belief system of “we are one. you are me. i am you. we are two halves of a whole” will have effects on the understanding of consent and how both parties function in the relationship. i think this extreme delusion would lead to a plethora of issues when it comes to consent and boundaries. with cersei too, the moment she (including her offering sex) is rejected by her “other half” she emphasizes and says things like “you swore that you would always love me.” and “i was a fool to ever love you” or starts verbally berating him, emasculating him, being ableist etc. this relationship operates on some absurd conditions and ultimatums, it is not healthy, hence things like “the things I do for love” too. in reality, it really is the opposite of “unconditional destined lovers.” both of them have things that they end up prioritizing over the other, and both have an incorrect idea of the other that fits their specific needs and wants. i just despise this whole “cersei groomed and manipulated jaime since they were children” bullshit. a child is not capable of this. teenaged cersei was navigating the strict and dehumanising boxes that her father and society forced her into since she was 7 years old. she looked to her brother for comfort and escape as much, if not in many ways more at this point, as he did. i also think cersei escapes into the relationship to subvert those societal patterns in many ways (i have seen people discuss that jaime views her as an equal and a person more so than others: “If I were a woman I’d be Cersei.”) but this still does not change the flaws that jaime has. he is not only a man in westeros, he was also reared by tywin lannister lmao. he is a misogynist with a skewed understanding and view of a lot of things. no point in denying this.

i also understand “mutual abuse is not real”, and understand the damage ignoring that can do to narratives revolving around victims of abuse, and the issue with framing ‘retaliation’ or ‘bad victims’ as mutual abuse (see discussions regarding robert and cersei for example and some of the putrid narratives that come out of that), but we are talking about fiction and its themes, discussing an author’s known intention and execution of that intention (that we can also criticize), as well as what is written in a text, and i do not think we should be ignoring the nuances when it comes to applying a modern lens to a medieval society with some very different and more severe and strict paradigms when it comes to gender inequality and the oppression of women.

here are george’s actual comments that i do not believe contradict the bulk of my perspective either tbh:

#pls be normal when it comes to this conversation theres a reason i hate talking about it #bc shit like this being approached from but muh meow meow or shipping nonsense is fucking obnoxious #ask #cw abuse #cw rape #i tried to balance george’s intentions and the flaws i personally see in his writing and my personal perspective and whats also clearly #indicated in the text #also #i am afab with a relationship to this topic and if u r gonna respond with deeply odd comments i will ignore u lol #jaime is my fav i am not ‘hating on him’

[wordsarelife]

I love your fics!!

Can you write a george karim x reader? The reader is apart of Kipps’ team and, since the two teams are still in cahoots (is that the right word? lol) with each other, george and the reader have to sneak around to be all cute and cuddly. Maybe they get caught while trying to sneak the reader out of 35 Portland Row?

Keep up the great work!! 👻

—love story

pairing: george karim x reader

summary: sneaking around and hiding a relationship becomes a challenge when your bosses are lockwood and kipps, but y/n and george always seem to manage anyway…

warnings: none really

note: thank you so much!! hope you like this :))

"y/n!" Anthony Lockwood called surprised "what are you doing here, this time of the day? does Kipps need our help?"

"ehh, no, sorry-" you turned around slowly. Lockwood stood in the entry way of the library, eyebrows raised at you. "I needed your help, actually" you quickly tried to cover up the fact that you were just leaving, after you had spend the night in your boyfriends company.

"oh, do you?" Lockwood replied surprised

"yes" you nodded "I need a book, I think George mentioned once that you guys had it"

"a book?" Lockwood changed his position "and you didn't think of just going to the library?"

"oh" you replied dumbfounded, not having thought of that "of course" you quickly gathered back your confidence "the library!" you called out, like Lockwood had just invented it

Lockwood watched as you made your way back to the door and threw a loose goodbye in his direction, before he turned around and muttered something about Kipps' crew always needing to be reminded of the simplest things.

__________

"it's still weird, isn't it?" George brushed a loose strand of hair from off your face. you were both laying on your bed, cuddling, talking about everything and nothing

"what do you mean?" you asked confused, poking up your head from off his shoulder

"Kipps and Lockwood, I really don't now why they won't get along" he sighed "it's not like they are particularly different”

"oh believe me, they are" you muttered "I think something in Kipps just wants to make sure Lockwood and you guys are safe, at the same time it angers him that Lockwood tries anything in his willpower to get hurt"

"that's actually really nice"

"he can be at times" you smiled at the boy

as if on command, there was a knock on your door. "y/n?" kipps called "can I come in?"

"eh" you called "just a moment, I'm- changing" you pushed George off your bed, so he would stay out of Kipps sight, the boy nearly screaming a fit of curse words

"you can enter" you sat down on the bed, waiting for Kipps to open the door

"hey" he smiled, stepping inside your room "I just talked to Bobby. he says we will be able to visit the house tonight. we'll take a cab at five, just be ready"

"of course" you smiled nonchalantly

"everything alright?" kipps seemed irritated by your answer, normally you would just groan and curse him out like he had personally invented the problem

"yeah" you nodded "why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know" Kipps answered slowly, walked back to the door, while keeping a confused look on his face "be ready" he repeated, before he walked out and closed the door

_______

"okay, this is getting repetitive" Lockwood called, arms crossed sitting in the living room. next to him (to your surprise) sat Kipps, wearing the exact same expression, watching you and George sneaking down the stairs

"eh" George muttered confused

"yeah" you nodded, dragging George into the room with you "there was this book-"

"-repetitive" Lockwood sang

"just admit you're dating and we can all go home" Kipps leaned forward to take a sip of his tea

"what?" you asked perplexed

"well" Lockwood smiled smugly "Kipps and I both noticed your weird behaviour, so we talked about it and came to the same conclusion"

"yeah, either you two are dating or you're having something even weirder going on"

"you both worked together?" George raised his brows. Lockwood and Kipps looked at each other in realisation

"I guess we did" Kipps muttered

"well, we can't have important team members being distracted during missions, because they are busy sneaking around"

"okay, seems plausible" George and you sat down across from the men

"but just so you know, we won't break up just because you guys found out about us"

"obviously not" Kipps and Lockwood nodded at the same time

"as long as you do not tell her any of our secrets" Lockwood instructed George jokingly, a bit of a stern expression entering his face

"the same goes for you, y/n"

you and George grinned at both your bosses, happy about them approving of your relationship. because if you were honest, they were much more than just that, they were your friends.

"great" Lockwood stood up, talking the tray with the empty tea mugs "then Quill Kipps can finally leave my house"

"gladly" Quill muttered bitterly "lets go, y/n"

you raised your hand and waved at Lockwood, before you turned to George and plastered a longing kiss on his lips. you followed Quill out of the room, grinning at the boy that looked a bit traumatised by witnessing your kiss

"I really have to get used at that before you can do it again"

"fine" you laughed, closing the front door behind the both of you

#lockwood and co #george karim #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #ghost hunting #netflix #ali hadji heshmati #cameron chapman #lockwood and lucy #quill kipps #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co netflix #george karim x reader #ruby stokes #lockwood and co imagines #imagine #reader insert #lizzy writes #wordsarelifewrites

[givemea-dam-break]

hi honey! can you do a anthony lockwood x reader, with #49 from the prompt list? maybe reader is close friends with kipps and anthony gets jealous so he hangs out with another girl to make reader jealous, and it works, so kipps threatens lockwood?

i love your work btw 🫶

a/n: of course!! thank you for requesting, and i’m so glad you like my stuff, thank you for your support <3 I'm assuming you mean my angst prompt list as that's the only one with a prompt that makes sense lol. i hope you enjoy! also (for anyone) let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for any lockwood and co fics <3

warnings: mild language, angst prompt: "Are they really just a friend?" gn reader

tag list -> @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

Lockwood has been avoiding you, and you're not sure why.

It started a few weeks ago.

Usually, the two of you would spend mornings together in the kitchen, talking over steaming cups of tea as you waited for Lucy and George to get up. Your afternoons could go any which way - relaxing in the house, taking consultations with possible clients, running around London for god knows what. Evenings, well, they were your favourite. If you weren't on a case, either with the whole team or just paired with Lockwood, you'd sit in the library together, simply enjoying the other's company as you read one of the many novels in the house and he sifted through magazine after magazine.

Now, though, it's all changed. Lockwood is never in the kitchen when you're there on your own. He doesn't sit next to you during consultations, or invite you on his errands around the city. Worse, he isn't taking you along on cases with him, opting to take Lucy or George instead.

It shouldn't upset you the way it does, but it's not like you can help it. He's your closest friend. Your partner in crime. Without him, what are you?

Lucy has her theories but you're not overly convinced.

One of her theories sits in front of you currently, sipping a mug of coffee under the bright lights of the Costa you chose to hang out in today.

"Any interesting cases lately?" Kipps asks. "I can't imagine Tony would like to take any of the boring ones, but I suppose he'll have to take anything he can get, really."

You glare at him half-heartedly. "We take anything we can get, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We help out the people who can't afford your fancy services. And, yes, I'll have you know we did have a particularly strange one, recently."

One of his eyebrows quirks up. It looks like a bushy caterpillar. "Go on."

"This murdered woman, right, who had been wanting revenge for her death. Turns out, the house was being occupied by some descendant of her murderer. He got ghost-touched, ended up dying, and then his husband came to get our help. You'll never guess what her source was."

Kipps thinks for a moment. "Her favourite necklace, stuffed under the floorboards somewhere."

You cross your arms in an X shape and make a 'wrong answer' buzzer sound. "It was her old record player that had gotten passed on from owner to owner. Apparently, the record on it had been on it for so long that it had melted onto it. The song had been playing while she died."

"That's awfully grim." Kipss takes another sip of his coffee, but he frowns as if it no longer tastes as nice. "And any improvement with Tony? Any conversations longer than five words?"

"No," you say miserably. You stir your spoon around in your tea, hating the way one guy has made your mood go from relatively okay to the opposite. "I don't know what I've done. I invited him to come to Arif's with me the other day, yeah? You know what he said? Lucy would love to go. And that was it! Lucy wasn't even home. The prick."

His gaze flickers to the door of the café. "You might want to keep your voice down."

"Why?"

When you turn, you realise why. In comes Lockwood, hair damp from the rain that pours down outside and jacket dripping, but still as radiant as ever. His face is almost glowing from the brightness of his smile as he laughs at something the girl beside him says.

Something in your chest squeezes horribly at the sight.

You turn back to look at Kipps, plastering on a smile as you swallow the burning feeling in your throat.

"He's coming over," he says, sipping his coffee - not - casually. He seemingly can't decide whether he should look at you or the person approaching. "Act normal."

As you sip your tea, which has gone a little cold after being left untouched during your conversation, Lockwood's shadow covers the table.

"(name)," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "What a surprise to see you here."

You press your lips together. "Yes, well, I told you I was coming here today. What a coincidence."

When you look up at him, he's wearing that dazzling smile of his, and your breath catches. How long has been giving this other girl - the one who floats by his side - that very same smile? Has he smiled at her in that private way of his, where the corners of his lips twitch a little? Has he told her why he's got a scar on his forehead, and the stupid story of how he got it?

"Tony," Kipps says, giving him a curt nod. "(name) and I just met up to catch up on things. It's been a little bit since we last saw each other."

It's almost unnoticeable, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. "Two weeks, if I'm right? That time when our cases were next door to each other." he pauses then, glancing at the girl beside him "Oh, sorry, how rude of me. (name), Kipps, this is my friend Talia. Talia, this is Kipps, supervisor for one of the Fittes teams, and this is (name), my employee."

Your teeth grind together. "Just an employee? Hmm, okay."

"Nice to meet you," Talia says, smiling.

She seems nice, and you want to like her, you really do, but you can't. Still, for her sake, you repeat the phrase politely.

"Well, we best go get a table," Lockwood says, "before they all fill up from the lunch rush. Let's go, Talia. See you soon, (name)."

Despite wanting to swear at him, you give him the best smile you can muster. When he's gone, you visibly deflate, glaring at your croissant.

"Don't look at the pastry that way," Kipps says. "It hasn't done anything to warrant that."

"Oh, shut up."

--

Back at 35 Portland Row, the house is quiet. As far as you know, George is at the Archives researching for the next case you have coming up in a day or two, and Lucy is out getting supplies from Satchel's along with general shopping. You half wish you had gone with her rather than going to see Kipps.

During the rest of your time alone, you get some cleaning done. You've been putting it off for a while, but the washing-up basket is so full of dirty clothes that there is a mound as tall as your hips beside it. At this point, it's unavoidable.

You're halfway through folding the first load of washing when the front door opens.

"Be careful!" you call from the bottom of the basement stairs, hoping whoever it is will hear you. "I mopped the floor, it's slippy!"

For a few minutes, no one comes down to see what you're up to but, finally, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

"I boiled the kettle not long ago, it should still be warm if you want a cup of tea."

"Thank you, but I just had some."

You freeze for a moment before continuing your folding. Without turning around, you ask, "How was your date with Talia? She seems nice."

Lockwood pulls his chair out from under his desk. The sound is screechy, to say the least. "It was good. She's an agent at Rotwell, you know?"

"Mm."

"How was yours with Kipps?"

The disgust in his voice is palpable, but it doesn't even begin to compare to yours.

"It wasn't a date. Kipps is just my friend."

You can feel the look he's giving you - the disbelief is thick in the air. "Is he really just a friend?"

"Well, Kipps is six years older than me and an adult so, yes, he is just a friend because it would be illegal otherwise." The shirt you're folding probably doesn't deserve the amount of aggression you're handling it with. "It also wasn't a date for the reason that Kipps is my cousin. Now that I think about it, that's illegal, too."

Silence. It makes you feel a little triumphant, to be honest. It isn't often Lockwood is stunned into silence. He's always got something to say.

"Kipps... is your cousin?"

"Yes, he is. My mum is his aunt. Do I need to explain how that works for you?"

"No. No, that's alright. I just didn't know."

You shrug. "Never asked. Not like we were always super close. We've only really started catching up since I joined you guys because I'm in London now and he's my only family here. Not that that sentiment seems to be appreciated."

"If I'd known, I would've -"

"You would've done what, Lockwood?"

Finally, you turn to look at him, practically throwing down the jumper you're folding. He's already watching you, that smile of his nowhere to be seen. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that's guilt in his eyes.

"Would you have stopped avoiding me? Because Lucy seems to think that started when I reconnected with Kipps. I don't - Even if he wasn't my cousin, it makes me ill thinking that you might've thought we had a thing. Ugh, I can't even say it without wanting to be sick. Is that what all of this avoiding-me business was about? Be honest."

His lack of an answer is enough. Usually so full of things to say, it's a shock seeing him this quiet. You wait for him to say something, anything, but nothing ever comes. He just sits there, staring, supposedly figuring out what he should say.

You turn away from him again, folding the last item of clothing. "Your pile is that one on the end. Second load of washing will be done in an hour. I'm going out."

"Going out? Where?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. I am just an employee after all."

"I didn't mean it like that -"

"Well, that's how it sounded. Jealousy doesn't suit you, you know." You pluck a jumper from your pile, tugging it on. "I'll be back before dinner. George is in charge of food tonight."

"(name), you don't need to go out. Let me just explain a few things."

"I have a great idea! Why don't you explain those things to Talia? I'm sure she'd love to hear it."

--

"I think I was a bit harsh."

"Oh, I don't think you were harsh enough."

Snorting, you stare out at the park. The bench you're sitting on right now, accompanied once more by Kipps, is soaked from the rain, but your jacket is long enough to save your jeans from getting soaked. The rest of the park isn't in much better of a state; there are massive puddles lining the paths, and the trees are sagging from the weight of the rain.

You pull your hood further over your head. "Tell me why you wanted to sit out in a park while it's chucking it down? I would've much rather had to sit in the same room as Ned Shaw than be out in this. My hands are freezing."

"You're the bait."

"The bait? What for?"

"Ah, there he is. My plan worked perfectly."

"Kipps, what are you -?" Turning your gaze down the path to the right, you realise. "No, Kipps, you're not going to bother Lockwood. I can handle myself."

"He needs to get a grip. He acted like a ten-year-old by avoiding you instead of talking to you, and it upset you. This just gives me the perfect excuse I've needed to give him a bollocking."

As he stands, you make to grab his sleeve. "Kipps, no."

But he's already sauntering up to Lockwood. The two meet halfway, drenched in rain. Lockwood's cheeks are flushed from the chill, and, though Kipps is the one speaking to him, he's looking at you.

"Kipps, stop it," you grumble, hurrying over. "I don't need you to mother me. It'll make things worse."

"I for one would like to hear what he has to say," Lockwood says. The challenging tone he always takes on with Kipps really should've been there, but it isn't. It's more of a guilty statement than anything else.

"You're acting like a kid, Tony," Kipps says angrily. "Do it with anyone else, but not with (name), not when they don't deserve it. I've been warning them not to fall for your tricks, but they've been insistent. He's a good guy. He's just going through a lot at the moment. Bullshit. Buck up your shit, or get out of their life."

"Kipps," you hiss. "Just shut up."

"No, I won't shut up, because he's hurting you. I won't stand for that."

"Just stop it! I'll handle this myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

"We all know that you weren't interested in that girl," Kipps says, glaring at Lockwood. If looks could kill, he'd be dead five times over. "You did it to be petty because, what, you were jealous that (name) was spending their time with someone other than you? Grow up."

"Kipps -"

"I'm going to leave now." His voice has grown quieter, even sterner, taking on the tone of someone using his age as leverage. "You two are going to talk this out. But if I find out that you've hurt them again, Tony, we're going to have major problems."

For a moment, he doesn't move, but then he squeezes your shoulder and leaves. You watch his figure disappear out of the park, blurred by the rain, before turning back to Lockwood.

His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's breathing a little heavier than usual. "(name) -"

"Kipps basically said everything that needed to be said," you say, pursing your lips. "I might've done it a little more gently."

A little laugh parts his lips. "He's right, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I absolutely do know. And it makes you a prick."

"It does." He looks down at his feet, guilt clouding his eyes. "I just - I was upset, and I know that gives me no right to have done what I did, but I felt - I don't know. Pushed aside? So I avoided you because it hurt a little less not having to see you all the time and wonder if you were thinking of someone else. Now I know how entirely wrong I was."

You stuff your hands into your pockets, desperate for warmth. "I was worried I'd done something to make you hate me. Lucy had tried to tell me that my hanging out with Kipps was a possibility, but I just didn't think it seemed like a logical reason. That's why I started spending more time with him - you avoiding me made me feel alone, and, yeah, I've got Lucy and George, too, but it felt nice to have someone shake some sense into me."

"I'm sorry, (name). Truly. If I'd known, things would've gone so much differently. I was more than a prick."

"You were." You laugh softly, and the sound has Lockwood's eyes back on you. "Lockwood, you mean the world to me. I thought you realised that."

There it is: that little mischievous glimmer in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch. "Well, since I obviously didn't, maybe you could show me?"

"Are you sure you don't want Talia to show you? She did seem lovely after all."

He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer. He's near enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you jealous?"

"Well, I wasn't the original jealous one, but, yes, I suppose I am."

When his hand touches your arm, you can feel its heat even through your jacket. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat. It's never gone so fast before.

"So, about showing me that I mean the world to you?"

"You are insufferable."

It doesn't stop you from pulling your hands from your pockets and pulling his lips to yours. He may be insufferable and frustrating, among other things, but you wouldn't have him any other way. So long as he's yours.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #quill kipps #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

[lestappenforever]

I have this lestappen prompt in my head that I can’t stop thinking about, but I can’t write so I’m going to leave the premise here and if any other anons want to add on their thoughts it would be welcome :)

Basically, Charles doesn’t met Nicolas Todt and therefore cannot continue climbing the racing ladder up to Formula 1. Meanwhile Max continues as in real life. Charles decides if he can’t be a driver, he still wants to be involved in F1 somehow. He ends up working in Ferrari as the youngest race engineer on the grid (he’s Seb’s race engineer <3).

When Max hears that Ferrari replaced Seb’s old race engineer in the middle of the season with immediate effect, he couldn’t care less, after all what does that have to do with him?, although he’s happy for Seb because his old race engineer so was incompetent. But then he hears chatter in his side of the RBR garage about how Seb’s new race engineer beat a lot of current drivers in karting like George, Alex, Pierre, and Esteban, so maybe Ferrari will be more of a competitor this year. Max is intrigued by this, so he asks who Ferrari hired, and when the mechanics say the name Charles Leclerc, Max CANNOT believe his ears. That annoying French (“I’M NOT FRENCH!”) kid that always pushed him off the track during karting races is Ferrari’s new race engineer? The one kid who could handle him, his one true equal, is working for Ferrari, for SEB?? And not for HIM??

And then the rest of the fic is Max doing everything he can to get Charles to join RBR and be his race engineer instead (don’t worry, GP is doing his thing as a different high ranking role, I could never get rid of him completely!). Max goes out of his way to be in the Ferrari’s way and make Charles’ life more difficult during races to get his attention (Max already has the championship on lock anyways, so if he slows down a bit.. or a lot… to be in Seb’s way, who cares?). Max begs Christian and he begs Helmut to give Charles an offer, to make sure to pay him better than Ferrari. He even makes sure to include free spa trips (to erase the stress Ferrari caused him) on the proposal he gives to Christian and Helmut. Just a lot of shenanigans lol.

Part 2:

Oh and I forgot to mention this! If Seb wins a race, you know how teams send an employee as a representative on the podium? So it’s the 3 podium sitters and the winning team’s representative? If Seb wins, Ferrari sends Charles up as their representative and Max literally SPRINTS across the podium to stand next to Charles so he can hold his waist for the photo <3 He’s been having withdraws, he hasn’t been able to touch Charles waist in this universe since like 2013, okay?

And while I’m adding on to this, I can imagine Max peacocking SOO HARD in front of Charles whenever he wins (which is often lol). He just wants to impress the same boy he wanted to impress a decade ago. Max is nothing if not dedicated!

---

Anon, words cannot express how much I love this idea. Race engineer Charles and Max doing his damnedest to court him to leave Ferrari in favor of Red Bull. Max turning into an absolute menace to get what he wants, and stopping at nothing to get it.

Honestly, the mental image of Max peacocking after a race win is giving me secondhand embarrassment and I am so here for it.

#Asks #Anon #Anon asks #Lestappen fic idea anons

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hi there! I saw your kpop post with hcs about being the big spoon, and I was wondering if I could request some BOB hcs with a similar idea? But how you think they would react to being the little spoon? 👀 Love your writing so much btw ❤️

BoB: Reaction to being small spoon while cuddling ｡･:*˚:✧｡

genre: romance; fluff

Warnings: none

Description: BoB reaction to being the small spoon while cuddling

Dick Winter: He likes it, any position where he can be close to you is a good one. He probably wont suggest it, but if you do then he’ll be happy to be little spoon. It’s good to switch up the positions every once in a while.

Lewis Nixon: He only likes being little spoon when he’s super sleepy or just have asleep, but he secretly loves it ngl. You’re so soft and he can’t help but just automatically fall asleep when you’re spooning him.

Carwood Lipton: He’s never one to turn down cuddles, so he wouldn’t mind being little spoon one bit. He personally finds being little spoon even better after having a tough day. It’s just so comforting and calm.

Joe Toye: He acts like he doesn’t like it but he secretly does, he lovesss the way your chest feels on his back LOL, the whole time he’s secretly praying that you play with his hair, you do that and he’ll love you forever.

Joe Liebgott: He’s chill about being small spoon, i mean he could never say no to you, and there’s nothing wrong with cuddling. He loves it when you whisper in his ear while you’re big spoon. He thinks it’s so hot.

Bill Guarnere: Puts up a fight against the whole little spoon thing, but when he finally gives in, he can’t deny that it doesn’t feel good. He’ll fall asleep almost immediately, you’re just so warm & soft, it makes it hard for him not to.

Bull Randleman: He laughs at the thought of being “small” spoon. But he won’t decline, he thinks it’s cute how hard to try to wrap your arms around him. It definitely is a secret guilty pleasure for him being little spoon.

George Luz: He’s so cute and pouty while being little spoon, if you aren’t holding him tight enough he will for sure call you a weak cuddler 😭, and don’t even try getting up because he has separation anxiety from your cuddles i swear.

Eugene Roe: He likes being little spoon, especially when he’s stressed, he can just relax in your arms, he doesn’t have to worry about anything else in the moment other then spending his time with you. It’s just really therapeutic for him

Floyd Talbert: He’s a “If you really want me too, I will” Kinda guy, so I think he would act nonchalant but we all know how much he’s enjoying it on the inside, he’s such a simp for you, literally ask to do anything and he’ll do it.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Thank you for your request and thank you sm for the kind words lovely! Sorry if it’s a little short but I can also make a part 2 if you’d like? 💗

#band of brothers #dick winters #lewis nixon #carwood lipton #joe toye #joe liebgott #bill guarnere #bull randleman #george luz #eugene roe #floyd talbert #ithinkabouttzu #hbo war

[roscoehamiltons]

Silly Season 2024 Predictions

aka predicting how the grid will look for 2025:

red bull: max verstappen, daniel ricciardo

mercedes: george russell, fernando alonso (or alex albon, if fernando remains at aston martin)

ferrari: lewis hamilton(!!!), charles leclerc

mclaren: lando norris, oscar piastri

aston martin: lance stroll, yuki tsunoda (or fernando alonso, if he doesn't go to mercedes)

alpine: esteban ocon, pierre gasly

williams: kimi antonelli, alex albon (or valtteri bottas, if alex goes to mercedes)

visa cash grab rb: liam lawson, sergio perez (or yuki tsunoda, if he doesn't go to aston martin)

sauber: carlos sainz jr, nico hulkenberg

haas: ollie bearman, kevin magnussen (or zhou guanyu, if kevin retires)

thoughts, explanations (and a lot of babbling) under the cut:

red bull: maybe i'm delulu for thinking daniel to red bull will still happen lol but it makes perfect sense on paper-- daniel's already familiar with the team and works well with them, he has support from the higher ups, he's a marketing dream, he has a similar driving style and preference to max...

also i know there have been rumours about alex going to red bull again but i don't think he'll do it in the end.

mercedes: i want it to be fernando that replaces lewis bc it would bring the most chaos and drama lol, but it's also a decision that actually makes sense? swapping a world champion with another world champion, and one that isn't likely to want to stay long term (5-10 years)? i guess this is dependent on how both mercedes and aston do this year but 🙏 pls make it happen lol

alex is my second choice for the seat if fernando doesn’t take it. i started making my predictions before james confirmed that alex was signed to williams for 2025, but even with that news, i still think it's a possibility he could go to mercedes. there's been so many whispers in the press about alex wanting to either leave williams or getting offers from top teams, that i can't help but think that alex is trying to gun for a top seat.. and mercedes is his best choice for a top seat imo. not to mention that james did say that he wouldn't stop alex from leaving if he wanted to, and of course the ties with mercedes that james and williams have... it would be easy for them to do some negotiations and make it happen. also i'm sure that george would put in a good word for alex, if alex was interested.

also some honourable mentions, because there's a lot of possibilities to consider: everyone is talking about kimi antonelli and mercedes and i do think that they're going to try and push him into f1 as soon as they can.. i just don't know if they'll take the risk of putting him in the merc seat right away. i'm really interested to see how he does in f2 either way-- if he's as good as everyone says then the results will speak for themselves. i think esteban is a good option too; he's a solid driver (and underrated imo), and more importantly he has ties to merc and toto. if merc wants a more short term option then carlos is a good choice, though it's more likely he would go to sauber. as for mick, i don't think that he's merc's first (or even second or third) choice for the seat, unfortunately for him and the mick girlies. lastly, this one is a bit random but nico hulkenberg also came to mind as a solid short term option (plus, he's german).

ferrari: still can’t believe lewis is going to be driving for them.

mclaren: no notes, very solid pairing.

aston martin: i think the lineup will stay the same if fernando doesn’t want to move to mercedes. i suppose there’s a chance that the rumours about lance going to wec could be true but we will see.

if fernando does go to mercedes then yuki is probably the most obvious choice as his replacement. i also think it’s in yuki's best interest in the long term to leave the red bull family, and this would probably be the best opportunity to do so.

i was actually initially considering checo as the driver to replace fernando — they have history after all, and checo seems to love the team. however, thinking about it, 2023 really took a hit to his reputation as a driver and I don’t know if aston would want him back anyways? i think checo would absolutely reach out to them though if the seat opens up, i think he’s going to try and stay on the grid if it's possible.

alpine: i think both will stay, but if one was to leave it would probably be este (to mercedes?) rather than pierre. if he were to go then jack doohan would be the likely replacement, maybe victor martins if his results in f2 are good.

williams: like i said earlier, i think mercedes is going to try and get kimi into f1 asap, even if he doesn't win f2, and aside from merc itself, williams is the most likely option for that to happen. alex will stay if he doesn’t get the mercedes seat—the supposed red bull offer doesn't start until 2026 and i don’t think he would break his contract to go to aston or alpine.

as for who would replace alex if he does go to mercedes, i would love for it to be valtteri. i stole this idea from @velvetsainz actually, but the more i think about it, the more i like it... the idea of valtteri and james on the same team again tickles me and valtteri is a fantastic mentor (as evidenced by his relationship with guanyu). also i'm fairly certain that toto is back on valtteri's management team again so i can see toto mentioning valtteri as an option for williams in their negotations for the hypothetical alex to mercedes move. is this likely this is to happen, idk, because valtteri did pick sauber over williams in 2021 for a reason but a girl can dream lol

visa cash grab rb: this one was the one i probably struggled with the most ngl.. i think liam is definitely going to be in f1 in 2025 (and deservedly so) but the question of who's going to be in the other seat.. the three main options would be yuki, checo and daniel (if daniel remains at visa instead of moving up, either checo stays at red bull or yuki is the one getting promoted). i originally had the lineup as yuki and liam (and checo at aston martin) but ended up switching yuki and checo around in the end. if checo does end up retiring at the end of this year and yuki goes off to aston then i'm not sure who would replace him..maybe ayumu iwasa? i looked at their list of juniors and am not really familiar with anyone besides him tbh

sauber: this one pains me because i'm a huge fan of both valtteri and guanyu, and they're actually my favorite pairing, in terms of overall vibes and personality... but i would be (very pleasantly) surprised if they both manage to stay at sauber next year. i think it's a given that carlos is going to go to sauber now that he isn't with ferrari, especially with his ties his dad has to audi. i also think sauber/audi would want to start preparing for 2026 and they would also want a german driver to drive for them, hence nico hulkenberg (plus the rumours that they were interested in hulkenberg last year, but ended up renewing guanyu instead).

there's a chance that one of the current drivers could stay, which in that case it would likely be valtteri (with carlos as his teammate, rather than nico). they could also promote theo pourchaire to f1, but i think it's likely they would stick to established drivers, especially during the first couple of years that audi settle in.

haas: the new haas tp has spoken very highly of ollie and with the amount of free practice sessions they have scheduled for ollie this year, it wouldn't surprise me if they're trying to get him on the grid. i know some people think that kevin might retire after this year, but i think they would like to keep one of the current drivers since the last time they had two new drivers didn't go well 😬. on the chance that kevin does end up retiring, i think guanyu is a good shout for a replacement. it might seem a bit random but he's a consistent driver who rarely crashes and more importantly, brings a lot of money and sponsorship, which haas needs.

#this has taken me like.. a week to do smh but i have finally finished yay #do you agree? disagree? lmk. pls tell me your thoughts (respectfully) #i'm not sure how accurate these will be but it'll be fun to see what happens #i'm excited to see what happens this silly season. lewis rly started us off well and the season hasn't even begun yet #f1 #formula 1 #f1 2025 grid #f1 2024 silly season predictions #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #george russell #fernando alonso #alex albon #lewis hamilton #charles leclerc #lando norris #oscar piastri #lance stroll #yuki tsunoda #esteban ocon #pierre gasly #kimi antonelli #valtteri bottas #liam lawson #sergio perez #carlos sainz jr #nico hulkenberg #ollie bearman #kevin magnussen #zhou guanyu

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE BILL WEASLEY HEADCANONS

Bill here is a very protective yandere. Well, that explains it since he did get bitten by Fenrir Greyback the werewolf and he doesn't want something bad happening to the ones he loves

He is big on cuddles and showing physical affection and intimacy with you. You might Bill if you work at Gringotts like he does as a curse breaker or if you've been friends with him when he went to Hogwarts. And we all know he's the human personification of the word 'Cool'

He attracts LOTS of attention from people but when he gets hooked on you... man he is determined to make you his. He will not leave you alone when he sees you. He doesn't become a yandere directly at first, his yandere feelings and feelings of overprotectiveness will develop slowly as time goes on and if he thinks you're in danger and don't take care of yourself very well

Lol he will do whatever he can to impress you. Oh, you just heard about that spell that some wizard did a few days ago and you found i impressive? Oh look Bill here can do it too. You have a fascination for talking about old and ancient things and Egyptian tombs? Well, look who can strike up a conversation and go hours and hours about the topic. Oh my Godric, this man here will literally talk with you for hours and hours about well... whatever you want to talk about. Like his job, your job, your life, his life and all that

He will most certainly introduce you to his family and of course, his family will take an instant liking to you immediately. They will do whatever they can to make sure Bill has you as his. And yes, that includes Molly and Ginny trying to set the both of you up and Charlie sometimes teasing you and Bill and trying to make Bill jealous by sitting really close to you during dinner and stuff and sort of drives him nuts. But Bill will just smirk and grab your hand and do something or the other that will end up getting an 'Aww....' from the rest of the family (Insert gagging sounds here from Ron, Fred and George) and you'll end up like a blushing tomato 

He gets pretty jealous every now and then and when he does, it is literally time for you to run from him and get the hell away from him because when he does get jealous, long story short without beating around the bush, you won't be able to walk straight for the next one week that's for sure 👀😳😏

You'll have to assure him that you love him every time he gets insecure of his scars and he'll look at you with such love and gratefulness in his eyes, it's a really heart warming moment. You'll just lay there with him, cuddling with each other basking in each other's presence

He might actually try to make you leave your job whatever it might be. Don't take this the wrong way, he does believe that you can take care of yourself and you're more than capable of protecting yourself but he just doesn't think it's safe. And besides, why work at all when he can work and provide for you for the rest of your life?

If at all the day comes he kidnaps you or doesn't let you leave his house, he'll take all of your tantrums with a great stride and he'll be patient with you. He understands how you feel, but every poisonous word you throw at him does break his heart and he feels like someone is using the Cruciatus curse on him. But he won't snap at you, he'll just sigh and apologize to you saying that he really loves you and since he cares for you he can't let you go. It'll be hard for you NOT to fall in love with him on your own since he's such a sweetheart and gentleman to you, never forcing you to do anything that you don't want to and giving you space if you need it

He will not take it lightly if other people make the mistake of flirting with you. He'll tell them to stay away from you at first since you're taken by him and he'll give them a warning 3 times. If they still don't heed his warnings he'll have to hex them and then prepare for not being able to walk straight for a week and your pretty little neck being covered and littered with hickeys and love bites from him. What? It's his way of showing that you're his, how else will everybody know you belong solely to him and only him?

If at all you do tell him that you love him he'll be really happy but will also be kind of cocky about it and have you on his lap, tease you slightly about it before he kisses your lips softly and then your forehead, telling you how much he loves you too. Overall, this man is your ideal dream guy

#yandere bill weasley #yandere bill weasley x reader #yandere bill weasley headcanons #yandere bill weasley imagines #yandere bill weasley oneshots #yandere bill weasley scenarios #yandere harry potter scenarios #yandere harry potter imagines #yandere harry potter characters #yandere harry potter x reader #yandere harry potter #dark harry potter characters x reader #dark harry potter characters #dark harry potter #dark bill weasley x reader #dark bill weasley

[kanmom51]

Genuine question?

Has Jungkook promoted the others albums the same way he’s watched and listened to jimins. I haven’t watched all his lives as I don’t have the time and genuinely don’t know or don’t remember if he had or not. Like I’m like 50% sure he listened to wildflower or atleast played it on his live in like Jan-Feb but I don’t really know. Has be mentioned or played or watched any of SUGA’s recent album? My memory is really bad.

Like is it normal behaviour what he did for Jimin or a bit more compared to the others, has he played or interacted with the other members albums at all? I’m pretty sure if I remember correctly he may have played songs from Indigo + Jack in the Box but idk outside of that or if I’m right at all.

Like does anyone have the full rundown of what members projects he’s played + watched on Live since Jack in the box. I literally only remember him coming by Jimin’s practice & Hobi’s photoshoot/release party & playing Set me free MV and other jimin videos.

The answer is no.

He did watch Hobi's song way back in a live in 2022.

He also talked about Yoongi's concert and how he's seen it and wants to go see it live (which he did).

I'm not even sure he played songs from Indigo now that I'm thinking about it, maybe Flower-works. Yeah, I think he watched Flower works. I'd have to go back check, and forgive me, but I just can't be bothered, lol.

And I'm not just being a shit here. I don't feel like checking cause even if he did listen to a song that's exactly it - a song. Perhaps a couple of words about how cool that member is. And that would be a wrap.

What he most definitely did not do for the other members, and this is carved in stone:

Did not watch or listen multiple times to the same songs.

Did not watch interviews and shows with other members.

Did not watch compilations centered around the other members.

Did not repeat this continuously over several lives.

Did not plan ahead, set up scenarios (the guitar for instance) and give us spoilers for other member's songs or album or clips or choreos.

That, my friend, is JM exclusive.

And that is also why it was so damn loud.

And got many knickers in a knot in the fandom.

More so while folding JM's tiny red Calvin's.

And why so many in this fandom are yearning for a MV with JK 'proving' (this is where I link George Michael's careless whisper) he ain't into JM.

Cause, as you know already, JK ain't no gay, I have a whole expose series to prove it.

Just for funsies, here's my Jikook in Vlives (those were the days) masterlist.

Go and see just how much JM overload we got from JK starting on White day (previous Feb and Mar lives had him melt over JM comments, but the spoilers and JM promotion love fest started on White day with his "something very exciting is happening in half an hour" and fly away spoiler - oh, and maybe even an Angel pt. 1 spoiler too, let's not forget about that one).

Yeah-nah, no precedent to the way he promoted JM.

JM was and is his one and only.

Period.

#ask

[david-talks-sw]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your SW takes (particularly ones addressing the criticism towards Jedi) lol

I was wondering what you thought of the Deception arc in TCW? Personally with most of the Jedi’s decisions during TCW i feel like they’re making the best choices they can, but with this arc it seems almost uncharacteristically cruel. Even if Anakin had not been attached to Obi-Wan (which the council surely knew he was?), his death would’ve been very painful to Anakin. Doesn’t that kind of go against Jedi compassion and the kindness we consistently see?

Again I’d love your take on this, but either way I’ll continue to enjoy your blog in the future!

Hey @soopisoop! Thank you very much for the kind words 🙌! I'm glad to hear you enjoy the posts!

So I lightly touched on the "Obi-Wan undercover" arc in this older, more general post about Anakin's relationship with the Jedi Council, but, hey, let's zoom in!

Not telling Anakin... was wrong. Plain and simple.

Yoda says so himself.

But the train of thought was:

"The chancellor - leader of the free world - is gonna die if we don't do this, so the stakes are high. We gotta send Obi-Wan deep undercover behind enemy lines, but Anakin is very close to him and known for being volatile, so there's a 50/50 chance he'll go AWOL and fuck the mission up and those are unacceptable odds."

It's not an excuse, but a justification.

And, in a slightly different context, Anakin seems to use this justification too.

Hell, if anything, Anakin thinks the Jedi should employ even harsher methods in the war and that their values are holding them back.

It's just that, in this case, it hit closer to home.

There's a "hypocrisy" argument to be made, but honestly... that's the Clone War in a nutshell for you!

The Jedi repeatedly told the Senate and the Chancellor "please don't ask us to fight, we're not made for this, we're diplomats, we act on compassion not violence”...

... because they knew that's what the war would force them to do: compromise on their values, tarnish every principle that defines them and that they hold dear, turn them into hypocrites.

Yes, the Jedi are compassionate, but they're also at war, and they're forced to pick between two shitty choices on the daily.

And the deciding factor, EVERY time, is not "which option is the better/more compassionate one" but "which option does less damage?"

Lying to Anakin is just one of these hard "no other choice" choices.

And EVERY time they see an opportunity to step back from the fighting and let diplomacy start again, guess what Palpatine says?

"Fuck you, go back to the front."

And when you listen to Dave Filoni's commentary on this arc, it turns out that this whole plan by Dooku and Morallo Eval was actually engineered by Palpatine to:

1) Distance him even further from the Jedi so Palpatine can swoop in and manipulate him more and more.

2) Set the board for another Anakin vs Dooku confrontation, to gauge how much more powerful Anakin has become.

"Y’know, ultimately, what we realize is that the whole thing is a fake-out on the Jedi. That Dooku is conspiring with Sidious to set-up this whole bounty hunter plot to make the Jedi believe that they have once again saved the day, and it’s all an effort to get Anakin isolated. So what I really liked about this story that, y’know— as George handed it out, was: we tell the story that’s really about Anakin and Palpatine trying to tempt him to the Dark Side… and we tell it more from Obi-Wan’s point of view. And you see this whole other tale that’s going on, and we check in with Palpatine and Anakin every now and then, until finally, it’s really about them and their struggle. And we see that this is a point that Anakin really wasn’t ready to become the Sith apprentice. He wasn’t strong enough, I think there’s a possibility that Dooku would’ve killed him here." - Dave Filoni, The Clone Wars: “Obi-Wan undercover” video commentary, 2012

So, again, like... sure. The Jedi made a mistake.

But ultimately, had Palpatine not hatched this particular plan, hell, had he not engineered a whole war designed to corrupt the Jedi's morals... that mistake would never have been made in the first place.

To use an analogy:

If a dude tries to make his way in a pitch black room (the Jedi playing catch-up to Sidious' plans) and steps on a Lego brick (their mistakes)... you don't blame him for it, you blame the guy who turned the light off and emptied the Lego box on the floor in the first place (Sidious).

#long post #The Clone Wars #in defense of the jedi #star wars #jedi order #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #deception arc #meta #QnA #jedi #as soopisoop put it in the comments... #it may have been the Jedi's mistake but it wasn't the Jedi's fault