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greatooglymooglyyy · 2 months

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Attitude Adjustment (Chris Sturniolo)

matt version?

contains: angst, bickering, relationship arguing, smut, softdom chris, hair pulling, fluff, kissing, protected sex, female receiving, 1.7k word count

a/n: based on this idea i had. sorry it took so long i couldn't figure out how to end it. i still kinda hate the ending but fuck it we ball.

“It’ll only be for like an hour and a half-”

“Chris-”

“Baby. We’re out of video-”

“So you basically invited me over to fucking abandon me here?” I ask, unable to hide the irritation I feel bubbling up. I sigh deeply, rolling out of Chris’ arms and grabbing my phone. Out of my peripheral vision, I watch him rub his hand over his face and sit up.

“Babe, we’ve been together all day. Just give me an hour." He gets out of bed and stretches before heading into his bathroom. I know I’m being a bit of a bitch to him but I can’t help it. Our schedules have been so crazy lately that every hour I get matters these days. Seems like I never get him to myself anymore and it’s starting to grate on my nerves.

Chris comes out of the bathroom and heads to his closet, stopping to scoop his favorite sweatpants off the floor. I roll my eyes and grab my Airpods, popping them in my ears and turning my music on full volume.

After a couple of minutes, Chris comes over and leans down to kiss me but I dodge it, not ready to stop being petty yet. He rolls his eyes and reaches to pull my headphones out. “Can we please not do this? This is my literal job.”

I kiss my teeth and Chris takes a deep breath and steps away. Nick calls his name from the top of the stairs and he yells back that he’s coming before grabbing his wallet.

“Alright. I love you, baby. We can talk about it when I get back.” He says over his shoulder as he reaches for his door handle.

“Whatever, Chris. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don’t even care anymore.” I snap. Chris pauses his movements and gives me a look that has me squirming. He walks over to the bed and squats down in front of me, the intensity of his eye contact making me lean back.

“Stop talking to me like you’re crazy, bro. Am I speaking to you like that?”

“No,” I mumble, crossing my arms and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Alright so watch your fucking mouth.”

I nod, struck silent, and he leans in to press a quick kiss on my temple before he stands, finally heading out the door.

I sit there for a minute staring at the wall contemplating my sanity. Because there’s no reason why that was the hottest Chris has ever been to me.

*******

It’s quite possible I’ve never been this bored in my life. I’ve started three different TV shows on Netflix, started doing handstands, and scrolled until my for you page started getting weird. I’m half lying on the bed, half hanging off, when I hear the boys come back. I spring up and turn off the light, throwing myself into bed and pretending to be asleep.

A few minutes later the door opens and Chris comes in, hesitating for a second when he sees it’s dark. I squeeze my eyes shut, listening to him move quietly through the room. When he gets in the bed, I feel him lean over me and run a knuckle over my cheek.

“You know you’re a terrible actress right?” He laughs, reaching over to pull me into his arms. I smack my lips and yank away, sticking to my plan of being a brat. He sighs, dropping his head back on his pillow.

“How do you still have an attitude after two whole hours?”

“Thought it was only going to be an hour and a half?” I mock, turning over on my stomach to face the wall.

“Okay.” Chris sits up and turns on his lamp before flipping me over to face him. I blink at him rapidly, startled by the sudden movement.

“This is what we’re not gonna do.” He says, gesturing between us. “Either talk to me or let it go. Those are your only two options.” His tone is harsh but with his thumb smoothing over my arm, it doesn’t feel as mean.

I sit up and face him, crossing my legs. “I just want a day or two where I don’t have to fight for your attention,” I say quietly. Chris nods slowly, tilting his head like he’s thinking.

“Okay.” He says, pulling me into his lap. “I hear you. I’ll try not to film on nights when you're here. At least until I can see you more.”

I look up at him and smile, placing a kiss on his collarbone. “Thank you.”

“That was easy, huh? Talking and shit like we’re adults-”

“Don’t ruin it,” I say, reaching up to pull his face down to mine.

I kiss the corner of his mouth and it pulls up in a lopsided smile. I keep going, kissing the other corner before both his top and bottom lip. His eyes trail my face, darkening as he waits for me to kiss him fully. But instead, I slip off his lap, rolling back to my side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a frown, leaning so he’s hovering over me. I smile and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Just wanted to see how much you want to kiss me,” I say casually, tangling my fingers into his hair.

Chris leans down and presses his lips to mine roughly, pushing my head into the pillow and anchoring a hand on my hip. His other hand dips under my shirt, sliding higher as we deepen the kiss. He pulls away to start lining kisses down my neck, driving me crazy.

“I always want to kiss you. Even when you're really fucking annoying." He says as he slides down my body, stopping to place a kiss above my belly button. He runs his tongue back up the trail of my body before he stops to yank off my shirt and bra. The light from the lamp makes me a little shy and I reach to turn it off but Chris stops me. “Leave it on, I want to see you.”

He slides back up to kiss me again, sweeter this time and full of love. I smile against his lips and mumble low, “You’re such a softie.”

Chris breaks the kiss and raises his eyebrows, giving me a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah?” Before I can respond, he sits up and grabs my panties, ripping them off in one motion and tossing them over his shoulder.

“I always wanted to do that.” He says, sliding down to run his tongue over my hip.

“I’m going to kill you.” I breathe out as he moves closer to my core.

“I’ll buy you some more.”

“It better be Victor-” I cut off my complaining with a moan as he swirls his tongue over my clit. He pushes open my legs and leaves one hand running up and down my thigh gently.

I lace my fingers back into his hair and he looks up at me as he slides a finger inside of me. He picks up his pace, thrusting inside of me roughs and adding another finger while matching his tongue motions to his fingers.

I tighten my grip on his hair and moan out his name, squirming up until my head hits the headboard. Chris moves his arm to spread across my stomach and pins me in place, never pausing his movements.

I throw my head back and rock my hips up as I call out his name and tell him I’m close. He only stretches me out more, curling his finger up to hit the spot that always takes me out.

I turn my head and moan into the pillow as I ride out my orgasm, still calling out Chris’ name. He presses a final kiss to my clit and then pushes himself up my body. He kisses me hungrily before he leans over to his nightstand.

“Still got an attitude or what? Let me know.” He teases as he stands to take his clothes off and slip the condom on.

“Shut up, Chris,” I say, rubbing my hand over my eyes.

“Alright, so we’re still working on it. Got it.”

He flips me over onto my stomach and hops on the bed behind me, pulling me up until I’m arched where he wants me. I look over my shoulder at him as he lines himself up to enter me, his tip rubbing against my folds, and he meets my eyes as he pushes in.

He gives me barely any time to adjust before he’s hammering into me, both hands gripping my hips and pulling me to meet his thrusts. I grip the sheets, whimpering, but Chris doesn’t slow his strokes for a second.

“Wow, you’re quiet.” He says ruggedly. “Where’s all that fucking mouth you got?”

I open my mouth to talk shit back but he readjusts, pressing his hand into my back and pushing me into the mattress. Somehow he picks up his speed, digging deeper into me than I thought possible. I try to say his name but all that comes out is a series of unintelligible sounds and he laughs roughly.

I reach a hand back against his hip but he grabs it and pins it behind my back, using it as leverage to pull back and slam into me again. “You feel so fucking insane.”

The breathy candace of his voice makes me moan out louder and Chris gathers all my hair into one hand and uses it to pull me up against his chest. The new angle has me seeing stars and I throw my head back on his shoulder as he places sloppy kisses on my neck. He reaches down to rub his thumb over my clit and I buck against him, my body shuttering from the intensity.

I’m so close now and he can tell, gripping my face and tilting my head so he can meet my eyes. “Go ahead, baby. Give it to me.”

I do exactly as he says, maintaining eye contact, as I fall again. He throws his head back at the feeling, muttering a low, “fuck,” and moaning out my name as he comes.

He drops his head against my shoulder for a second, breathing heavily, before he pulls out slowly. I fall back onto the bed while he heads to the bathroom to clean up. I’m still lying motionless when Chris comes back out and sits on the edge of the bed. “Come on. Take a bath with me.”

I smile over at him and slide out the bed, following him into the bathroom. I sit on the counter as he runs the water and pours in my bubble soap.

He comes back over to me and stands in between my legs staring at me. “You didn’t say you loved me back when I left.”

“I just let you break my back. I think we’re good.” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Not the same.” He states matter of factly, leaning closer and brushing his lips against mine. I smile and then pull back, giving him a mock-serious face. “Christopher Sturniolo, I love you so much.”

He grins and kisses me again, deeper this time. “One more time?”

“I love you,” I whisper, chasing his lips but he pulls back.

“Again?”

“Alright, fuck off.”

He laughs and steps back so I can slide off the counter and head over to the tub. I get in after turning the water off and Chris follows, sliding in behind me.

I sigh contentedly, letting my head lay against his chest as he tells me about how filming went. I laugh at his stories and chime in softly, wondering how the hell I could ever be mad at a boy this sweet.

Well, at least until tomorrow.

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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

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i love the whole ‘best friends who ‘accidentally’ had sex’ type of concept and it really fits chris 😭 like imagine attending the end of the summer cookout marylou and jimmy have every year, you and chris decide to have wine coolers because why not?

next thing you know….

never grow up // chris sturniolo

summary: you and your childhood best friend reunite after months apart. after a couple of drinks, secrets start spilling, leading to lust that has been put on the back burner for years part 2

Chris and I have been inseparable since the day we met. With us living on the same street growing up, we were always together. If there was a picture taken of one of us as a kid, chances are the other one was in the background trying to photobomb.

Watching Chris and his brothers make the move to LA was hard. I sat back and supported my best friend, but it sucked knowing that our fault routine of being together after school and having sleepovers was coming to an end.

It all happened so fast. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone.

The love I have for Chris is unlike anything else in the world. I love Nick, and I adore Matt, but it’s different with Chris. We connect in different ways. We trust each other differently. I’ve never had a friendship like it, and I don’t think I ever will. We always joked about being in each other's weddings. He wanted me to stand with all the groomsmen, and I told him he could stand with the girls.

We had our lives planned together, and I never thought I’d have to see us fade away from each other.

We try to talk as much as possible, but with his ridiculous sleep schedule mixed with his work life and time zones, it’s mostly scattered snapchats that keep us from forgetting what the other person looks like.

A tradition growing up was going to his house for the end of the year cookout. When we were little we would play in the pool, seeing who could collect the most shark toys and torpedoes that we launched into the bottom, and as we got older it turned into chicken fights, then us floating around the pool, asking each other questions about life.

“Do you ever think about what would happen if your husband didn’t like me?” he had asked me on a sunny day in Massachusetts when we were 16.

“Yeah,” I said, dragging my hand through the water to cool myself down. “I’d tell him to fuck himself, and if he doesn’t love my best friend like a brother, then I want no part of him. You’ll always come first.”

He gave me that classic, cheesy grin of his and then splashed a wave of water against me, knocking me from my float.

He’s not coming this year. He’s busy at work in LA. I can feel him drifting away.

As I help his parents set up some of the food trays, I hear their side door open by the kitchen. I don’t bother looking up, knowing guests have been coming and going all day. It isn’t until two arms wrap around me from behind that my eyes shoot open.

“Miss me?”

Chris.

I spin around, staring at him with my jaw dropped. I can see his mom out of the corner of my eye, smiling at us. She must have known about this. I’m sure he told his mom.

“Oh my god,” is all I can bring myself to say. My eyes start to well with tears. I haven’t seen him since last Christmas. I missed his birthday. He missed me. Our times were always off.

He squeezed me as our bodies clung to each other. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry, Sunny.”

Sunny. The nickname he gave me when we were little, which came from Sunshine. We were 8, swinging on a playground. He had a bad day. We played together after school and he told me whenever he feels sad, his day always gets sunnier with me around. He always was able to make me feel loved and appreciated as his friend, and as we got older, that only grew.

I know he loves me. He just needed to chase his dream. That doesn’t mean he loves me any less than he ever did.

“I missed you so much,” he says, holding me even tighter than before.

“I missed your voice.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I need to make an effort to call you more. I’m just so-“

“Busy,” I finish for him. “I know.”

His face falls. “Yeah.”

I don’t want him to feel bad for what he’s doing. He deserves something so amazing. He’s worked so hard for it.

“You’re here now though,” I smile. “Can we just pretend like you’ve been here and you never left?”

He smiles softly, nodding. “Yeah.”

I sit by his side for hours, smiling at him as he fills everyone in on what’s he’s been up to. He’s the talk of the town. Everyone is amazed to see him and his brothers do such big things.

Everyone erupts into laughter when Chris tells his stories, and when Matt and Nick add on more anecdotes, the house is filled with pure joy and love for these boys we watched grow up.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Chris says, excusing himself. “You want anything?” he points to me.

“Whatever you get for yourself is fine,” I nod, adding on a thank you before he leaves.

He comes back with two Pepsi cans. I notice they’re already opened, but I don’t think anything of it. Knowing Chris, I fully expect him to have drank some of mine, and that’s him trying to be funny.

My face puckers at the taste of wine in my can.

He emptied the Pepsi out and poured wine in it instead.

He smiles next to me, trying not to laugh.

A memory of us from when we were 14 comes back to me, and I know that’s what he’s trying not to laugh about.

“Chris! We can’t take their wine!”

“My parents have like 20 bottles. They never drink. These are all Christmas gifts from other people. I promise they won’t notice,” he assured me.

I watched as he poured the glasses half full. It seemed like far too much.

“Try it,” he said, nudging a glass to me. “It’s disgusting.”

I took a hesitant sip. This was fucking awful, but I found myself drinking more at the idea of the thrill. We were doing something we weren’t supposed to, which made the alcohol taste even better.

A half hour later we were both stumbling up to his bedroom, and I managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up, almost missing his toilet.

He held my hair back and apologized for giving me alcohol. He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone we drank. And he never did.

“Doesn’t taste as bad now, huh?” he asks, snapping me out of my memory.

I roll my eyes and take another sip. He’s right.

Once everyone leaves for the night, my family stays back to help Chris’ parents clean up, and my parents were offered a plethora of leftovers.

When Chris showed up, it was a no-brainer that I would be staying here tonight, so he led me upstairs while everyone else said their goodbyes.

“Shhh,” he hushed me as my giggles flooded the hallway. I’m definitely tipsy, but I’m completely coherent. I think most of my giggles come from the fact that he’s back in Boston. I’m just giddy and happy.

“Sorry!” I apologize anyway, even though he’s not bothered by the sound of my laughter. He smiles at it. He loves it.

He lays out a pair of pajamas for me like he always used to. It’s an old shirt from our high school with his lacrosse number on it, and a pair of his boxers.

I find myself thinking about the girls he had been with that were jealous of what I had with him. Me and Chris had never even kissed, so to think he would be accused of so much more with me was ridiculous. He never failed to stand up for me though. He could have the number one girl, someone perfect for him, and he’d say goodbye to him if they said one bad thing about me.

We will always be rooting for each other no matter what.

“Tomorrow we should actually do some stuff around town,” he says as he changes into something to sleep in. “I’ve been traveling all day and I’m so fucking tired. I just want to lay in bed.” He finishes his statement and flops down on the bed, laying his head next to my thighs.

“I really missed you, Chris. A lot,” I respond, ignoring his suggestion.

He sits up next to me, looking down at me in his clothing. “I know, Sunshine. I missed you just as much. More, probably.”

I felt safe with him again, a feeling that had been lost as we spent months and months apart. I craved moments like these, where we would stay up together and laugh.

The mood in his room shifts when he says, “What ever happened with you and Aaron?”

He knows what happened. I told him before I told anyone else.

He broke up with me with no explanation, and I was left heartbroken and confused. I wanted nothing more than a hug from Chris, but 3,000 miles kept that from happening.

“We’re not talking anymore,” I remind him. I really don’t want to be talking about boys right now, but it seems that’s the topic of conversation that is interesting to him most. “Any girls that have your attention in LA?”

He shrugs. “Not really. They’re cool, some are cute, but I don’t know. I don’t think I wanna do anything with any of them.”

Chris has always been very anti-relationships, but that never stopped him from having his fair share of fun. He always made sure they were on the same page that it was just benefits, sometimes not even friends. I am curious what turns him away from exploring with girls in LA. “Why not?”

“They just don’t have what I’m looking for. I want someone who understands me and what I want, but only a few people get that,” he explains. “I don’t know. I don’t want to waste my time with someone if I know from the jump that it feels like a waste. And I think about you, and how we are, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that close with anyone else. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to think about someone ever taking your place.”

“You can set limits,” I suggest. “But don’t keep yourself from meeting people because you’re worried about me feeling replaced. I won’t ever feel that way. I just want you to be happy.”

“Well, that’s not the only reason you’re a problem in it.”

There’s an ache in my chest at the thought of me being a part of a problem in his life.

“What?”

“I just– There have been issues before… in the past… where girls have felt threatened by you,” he says, looking down at his fingers, where he picks at the dead skin nervously. “That’s not your fault by the way. It’s dumb. I just… I don’t know.”

I pull his hands away from him. “I love you, Chris.”

He smiles at me and says, “I love you too.”

Somehow, his feels different.

I check the time on my phone, putting in beside me and announcing to him, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Just like we always did, innocently of course, I placed the softest and quickest peck to his cheek closest to me.

I did this as a kid, mostly because Chris would freak out if his mom didn’t give him a kiss goodnight. He insisted that it kept the bad dreams away, and he would ask me to do the same for him when he spent the night at my house.

So I kissed his cheek like always.

I tried to.

But Chris moved his head.

His lips graze mine. There isn’t much contact, but there’s enough for me to know that we just kissed, barely.

He knows exactly what he just did, yet he’s looking at me like he’s shocked.

I’m not drunk, but maybe this is acting as liquid courage. That’s what I tell myself when I fully grab my best friend’s cheeks and press my lips to his. He lets out a deep breath against me, holding the back of my neck and fisting a handful of my hair.

What are we doing? I’m kissing my best fucking friend. My best friend of 15 years.

I’m lost in my own head, completely out of it until I feel him lay on top of me, pinning my arms over my head with one hand as he kisses down my neck with the other.

I lift my chin, giving him more room to kiss me.

He finishes placing wet kisses to my skin, then puts his lips back on mine. His full lips overtake mine, but we form a rhythm that has my chest tightening. He kisses me slowly, but the more tongue we add to the mix, the louder it sounds.

We make out for some time. I lose all track of it. I don’t even know if I’m in reality anymore. My hips aimlessly lift up to try to find something to create friction against. I almost forgot who I was kissing until he pulled back and said, “We’re entering dangerous territory here, Sunshine.”

“What do you want to do then?”

He falls silent, and I fully expect him to lay down next to me and pretend this never happened.

He does the opposite.

“I would never be doing this if it wasn’t something I had thought about for years.”

My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest.

Everyone who watched us grow up together is in this house.

And he’s pinning me down to the bed kissing me in the same room we used to play in.

“Then do something about it,” I taunt.

He loves this invitation.

Going zero to one hundred, Chris sits up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it beside me. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Hell, I’ve seen his bare ass. This is different though. So much different.

He puts his lips back on mine as his hands slide to the bare skin under my shirt. Without a second thought, I remove it, completely forgetting that I don’t have a bra on.

His eyes focus on my body, his jaw slacked and his cheeks turning red.

“Holy shit.”

I instinctively try to cover myself somehow. He grabs my arms and pulls them back down.

“No no,” he shakes his head. “Let me admire you, pretty girl.”

He kisses me softly down my chest, flicking his tongue over my nipples before sucking them into his mouth, all while he’s rubbing his hand on my inner thigh.

I shift my hips, positioning his hand right over where I need him the most. He stares up at me in awe as I give him this sign of approval, and without wasting any time, he dives his hand into the boxers around me. His underwear. I mimic his movements, dropping my hand through the waistband of his shorts and swiping my thumb over the tip of his hardened cock. He winces at my touch, gasping out of desperation.

“Please,” he whines. “Don’t start something you can’t finish. I’m begging you.”

I yank his shorts down, having the same reaction to his dick that he did to my boobs. I lay below him in shock, mostly baffled by the fact that he’s hung, but also the fact that we’re in this situation.

When he gets nervous from my staring, he places soft kisses to my lips again, like he’s trying to put my attention elsewhere.

“Sunshine,” he pants. “I can’t… If we’re gonna do this… I can’t wait,” he breathes out. “I need you now.”

I stroke him slowly, watching his stomach heave. “Have me then.”

In an instant he has my boxers and underwear on the floor in one fluid motion, spreading my legs and laying between them.

“Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me,” he whispers. He touches my dripping folds carefully, then licks his finger clean. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Always have been.”

I’m in my most vulnerable state. Not only am I naked in front of a man, but this is the guy who has watched me grow up. He has seen me through every stage of life, and now he’s about to be touching me, fucking me.

“Chris,” I say his name quickly, urgently, like I’m running out of time to say anything.

He looks down at me, pausing from where he was lining himself up between my legs.

I love you.

He smiles and says, “I know,” before putting my legs over his shoulders and pushing himself inside of me.

My fist clenches a nearby pillow as my body adjusts to him stretching me out. Chris gasps out in pleasure and shock from this entire experience. He drops his face into my neck, letting me hear his soft moans as he feels me clenching, throbbing around him.

When I give him the okay, he starts thrusting into me slowly, both of us silent, letting the sound of our skin finding each other ring in our ears.

I’m having sex with my best friend.

He places a kiss on my thigh, where it rests next to his face. Then, he pushes one of my legs out, spreading me open more.

“Fuck!” I cry out, the sound quickly masked by Chris’ mouth, where he places his lips over mine again to shut me up.

“Gotta be quiet, Sunny,” he warns me. I nod, and he puts his hand over my mouth, making sure I keep the volume down.

His dick hits every spot perfectly. His body clings to mine as our orgasms are in sight. I find myself begging for him, moaning his name, something I never would have expected from us.

Chris sits up on his knees, pressing my knees to my chest as he pounds into me, his face staring down with a dominant gaze, watching his dick fill me as my cum drips around him.

“Fuckkk,” he groans. “Such a dirty girl.”

All self control leaves me when I don’t bother hesitating as I respond with, “Yours.”

He nods, speeding up his pace. His thrusts become sloppier, much sloppier. “All fucking mine,” he reminds me, then pulls himself out of my pussy and strokes himself through his orgasm, letting himself finish on my lower stomach.

He quickly gets a towel and cleans me up before he places his head on my boobs. My hands dig into his hair, running my hands through his loose curls.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Sunshine, you know that?”

I smile to myself, but I also know that we completely fucked up us ever having a normal friendship after this.

My best friend and I fucked.

And he doesn’t do relationships.

“You’re my favorite,” I whisper back.

He places a kiss to my stomach, and I can feel the smile on his face when he does so.

I don’t smile. I know that with our decision tonight, we lost one side of our relationship.

We either become romantic and it gets fucked up and we lose a friendship too, or our friendship becomes awkward and crumbles because of this.

Neither of us thought about that before we got ourselves tangled up in each other, and I’m doing everything I can to forget about that fear and focus on the boy I’ve been in love with for years laying on my chest.

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neverevan · 1 year

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I know we all love the idea of Eddie keep flirting with Steve and calling him pet names, because he thinks he can get away with it.

But I've been thinking about Steve casually calling Eddie baby without even registering what he's doing.

Like they are standing outside the van with the hood open and Steve just tutting at him like "Eddie, baby, you really gotta get your transmission checked, this is like the third time this month" and Eddie's losing his shit, mouth hanging open in shock, but Steve has no idea and it just keeps on happening after that.

Next time it happens, they are all over at Steve's, having a movie night and Steve has El and Max passed out on him, making him unable to get up from the couch without waking them and he just whisper-yells to Eddie "Hey babe, could you pass me a beer? Kinda tied up here" and Eddie just blanks and says nothing, but gets a bottle from the sixpack on the floor and Steve says "thanks" like it's just how things have always been between them.

And Eddie's working himself into a frenzy. Has Steve got no idea about what he's doing to him? Because Eddie's been lowkey crushing on Steve since he got mixed up in the whole Upside Down business and it just got worse when he woke up at the hospital to Steve holding his hand and giving him the brightests of smiles that there was, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's knuckles, whispering a soft "Hey there sleeping beauty, how're ya feeling?" while being completely oblivious to the suspicious look Wayne was giving them. And sure, hanging out with him nearly every day didn't help the situation one bit.

But this. This is going to be the death of him.

And it just keeps on happening. Steve murmurs "goodnight baby" into the phone before hanging up, he shouts "babe, come here, you gotta see this" when Lucas ends up stuffing fifteen oreos into his mouth (which is a new personal record) and whispers "hey baby, I'm sorry, I know you'd rather do something else, but I promised Mrs Wheeler" when they're watching Holly's ballet recital, waving at her from their seats when her eyes land on them.

It all comes to a head when Eddie's stupid van breaks down in the middle of fucking nowhere, on their way back from Indianapolis, after going there to buy a special boardgame for Dustin's birthday.

There's not a single car or house to be seen anywhere in a ten mile radius.

"Oh this is just great," Steve hisses as he jumps out of the car to walk around and Eddie does the same. He pops the hood and watches as a small cloud of smoke slithers out of it.

"Shit" Eddie swears under his breath. It looks bad.

"See baby, that's exactly why I told you to get it checked! Because I didn't wanna get stuck in fucking no man's land!"

"Look, I'm sure if we just leave it to rest a little..."

"Rest? Eds, come on, you know that's not how it works. We gotta walk up to the next gas stop and phone someone to tow it."

"Fuck, fine!" Eddie grunted. "But it gets dark in like twenty minutes."

They both know that they can't handle walking out in the wild after dark. Not after everything and not with all the nightmares that still tormented them most nights.

"Then I guess we're sleeping out here tonight." Steve says, dropping his hands on his hips. "You have pillows or some shit in the back?"

"Got a couple of blankets, yeah."

In the end they lay down two blankets on the bottom of the van and bundle up some old jumpers Eddie keeps in there for pillows. They lie there, facing each other in the dark.

"Hey... I'm sorry about all this" Eddie whispers, like his voice could disturb anyone out here in the middle of nowhere.

"It's okay, I just wish you'd pay more attention to stuff like this. I mean shit, babe, what if it's just you out here, huh? What then?"

"Steve-"

"I mean, I just hate to think about how shitty it would be, to be out here alone, in the dark... plus I'd worry myself sick not knowing where you are, you know?"

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not alone."

"No, no you're not alone" Steve agrees with a private little smile.

They settle into a companionable silence and Eddie's almost certain that Steve is just about to drift off, but he can't contain it in himself any longer; he has to ask.

"Hey Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Why uh... why are you keep calling me...?" He can't bring himself to say it out loud without his face heating up.

"What?"

"Names." He settles, hoping that Steve would get it.

"Names?"

He's gonna make him say it, isn't he?

"Yeah like uh... baby."

"Oh"

Even in the darkness of the van Eddie can see how the colour darkens in Steve's cheeks.

"Does it bother you?" Steve asks after a beat and Eddie just sighs out a soft "no".

"Okay."

For a long moment it seems that this is all Eddie's gonna get, but then Steve shuffles a little closer and runs a finger along Eddie's palm before taking his hand into his own.

"It just felt right, you know? Calling you that. I dunno, it was like how it was meant to be."

"That sounds kinda romantic, isn't it?" Eddie's shooting for a joke, but Steve just sighs timidly.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

"Steve-"

"Eddie... can I?" He doesn't finish it, but Eddie knows he'd say yes to pretty much anything Steve could ever ask from him.

"Yeah" He breathes with a little nod and Steve scoots even closer, placing his other hand onto Eddie's cheek. He leans in and looks him in the eyes for an impossibly long moment, making sure he's got permission one last time.

Steve whispers a soft "baby" onto his lips before finally closing the gap between them.

#steddie #these two will be the death of me #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #ficlet #fanfiction #my fic

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queenendless · 6 months

Text

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

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7ndipity · 5 months

Text

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi oneshot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts one shot #7ndipity

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coco-loco-nut · 20 days

Note

Hii!

Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.

And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.

Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!

Guard Dog

Pairing: Max x Reader

Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit

TW: verbal abuse

A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3

requests open masterlist

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

"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.

"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.

"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.

"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.

"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.

"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.

"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.

"I-"

"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.

"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.

"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.

The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.

"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.

"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.

"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.

"Love you, Maxie"

"Love you too, Schatje,"

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen #i hate jos verstappen

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

I know we have emt mauraders (and I absolutely love them with all of my heart), but I can't get the image of fireman James out of my head. He's just so beefed up and just has that build about him. You know? 🫠

So true babe <3

cw: reader is trapped in elevator for a bit

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

It took you some time to work up the courage to press the HELP button. Your building’s elevator has always been a bit scary, shuddering and screeching ever since you’d moved in, so you’d hoped for a while that it would just fix itself, remember that it was supposed to be moving and deliver you safely to your floor. No such luck.

You’re endlessly glad that you’re going home and not running late to work when it takes the fire crew another twenty minutes to show up. You’re guessing elevator rescues aren’t at the top of their priority list. When someone finally bangs on a door somewhere below you, you scramble up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor.

“Fire department,” a man’s voice says.

“Hi,” you call back, feeling immediately stupid for it. Were you supposed to say your job description back or something?

“Is everyone okay? How many of you are there?”

“It’s—it’s just me.”

“Alright,” the voice says, “we’re gonna get you out of there, just give us a second.”

You hum back though he probably can’t hear. There’s a lot of creaking metal and muffled voices, and then the door to your prison squeaks slowly open. Most of what you can see is clearly elevator shaft, but there’s a small opening at your feet. Once it’s a couple of feet wide, a curly head pops through.

“Hi,” the voice from earlier says. It comes from a lovely face, all tan skin and warm eyes and a radiant smile, like this man finds everything about his day genuinely cheering. “You alright in here? Injured at all?”

It takes you a second to find your voice, and even once you do it sounds pitchier than normal. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Perfect.” Somehow, his grin seems to widen, which is a bit much for you right now. Suddenly you’re kind of dizzy. “Okay, I’m just going to have you scooch on your bum over here and stick your legs out, yeah? I’ll pop out so I can lower you down.”

He’s going…he’s going to grab your legs. Okay. Awesome. This is totally your everyday.

Some of your hesitance must show on your face, because the man’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he says. “I’m James. What’s your name?”

You tell him, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear, but James nods anyway. “Y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve already been stuck for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’d like to get to where you’re going. This is the easy part, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo.

James gives you an encouraging smile, retreating from the opening. “Alright, just set your legs out here,” he calls up.

You sit down on the elevator floor, slipping your feet through so your legs are dangling in open air. A second later, strong hands grip the undersides of your thighs.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” James says. “I’m gonna ease you out, and I just need you to lean back so you don’t bump your head on anything, yeah?”

You hum in response. He starts pulling you out of the elevator, his grip moving up your thighs to your bottom once it emerges. Your heart thunders, both from the intimate contact and from trusting your weight wholly to someone else. Soon you’ve cleared the opening. Another set of hands cups the back of your head to ensure you don’t hit it on the elevator floor, and then you’re sitting up, your hands landing on James’ shoulders for balance. They’re really quite substantial, you can’t help but notice, wide and full of thick, corded muscle. He tilts his head back, grinning up at you.

“See?” he says. “Easy.”

A dizzy little laugh escapes you, and James’ grin takes on a whole new quality. Something curious about it. He hoists you up in his arms, grip transferring to your waist so he can lower you to the floor.

“Thanks,” you manage, looking up at him. You look at the other handful of firefighters around too, the embarrassment of your situation finally sinking in. Your face heats. “I really appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James says. As the others start packing up equipment, his attention stays on you. “You sure you’re alright? Where are you going from here?”

You do your best to give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going home. I live on the sixth floor.”

He hums. “Best take the stairs this time.”

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scuderiahoney · 10 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5

Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words

Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.

“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.

Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”

“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”

George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.

Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”

“Not really?” He says, shrugging.

Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”

Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.

Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”

You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”

Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“

“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”

…..

The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.

Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.

You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”

Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.

An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.

After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.

“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.

He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

…..

The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.

By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.

When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.

“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.

“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.

“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.

Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”

Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”

You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.

…..

Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.

“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”

Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”

“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”

Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.

“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”

Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.

He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”

You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.

“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”

Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.

Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.

You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.

The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”

You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”

You nod. “I’ll stay here!”

“Me too,” Oscar adds.

“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”

Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.

A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.

“This is really nice,” he says, softly.

The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”

Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”

He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.

There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.

…..

Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.

You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.

You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.

Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”

You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.

Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.

“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.

You nod. “Me too.”

His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-

Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?

“I…” he starts, then stops.

You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.

If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.

He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.

…..

The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.

He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.

Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.

There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.

One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.

When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.

He just eyes you carefully,

“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”

You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.

You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.

It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.

When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”

His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.

“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”

You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”

You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.

Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.

One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.

“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”

You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”

“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you murmur back.

Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.

…..

Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.

The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.

The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.

“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”

His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”

You shrug and wink. “Close second.”

He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.

“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.

You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”

He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”

You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”

He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”

And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.

You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.

Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”

“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.

When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.

You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.

When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.

“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up your other side. “We’ll be back.”

He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.

“Promise?” You ask, quietly.

He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.

The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.

bunnyrabb1t

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others

bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever

landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(

oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb

landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream

lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!

bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘

alex_albon hey. back off 🤺

oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️

bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️

charles_leclerc 🤨

carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you

notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11

(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)

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barefoot-joker · 3 months

Text

Against Heaven and Hell~Yandere!Adam X Reader X Yandere!Lucifer

Hello, everybody! Welcome back to my Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation! Today I bring you a Yandere! Adam vs Yandere! Lucifer story. I think this one turned out alright but let me know what you think. As always, enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 1972

Warnings: Swearing, Adam being Adam, Car Crash, Contract Signing, Kidnapping

I bit my lip as I looked at myself in the full length mirror. The girls and I were going out tonight and I wanted to look my best. It had been a few months since we’d seen each other after all. I smoothed out my black and red plaid pants and fluffed my black dress shirt. Deciding I was presentable enough I walked to my kitchen. I grabbed my keys off the counter, put on my black bomber jacket and black boots, and walked out my apartment door. I locked the door behind me and continued my way to the elevator. Hitting the button for the first floor, I found myself tapping my foot as I waited.

Ding!

The doors opened and I walked out. I headed to the parking garage to the left of my apartment building and walked up the few flights of stairs to my car. Since I was the designated driver I made sure a few days before my vehicle was nice and tidy. I put on some tunes as I drove down several blocks before arriving near the center of the city. I parked on a side street and pulled out my phone, texting Ashley that I was ready for them. I scrolled through social media for a few minutes when there was a tap on my window. I looked up and saw Ashley, Shiloh and Tiffany standing there. I unlocked the doors and they all got in. “Hey, girl! Long time no see!” Ashley, sitting in the passenger seat, gave me a tight hug.

“It’s nice to see all of you too. Gosh, it feels like it’s been forever.”

“It really has. But no time is like the present as they say!” Tiffany piped up from the back seat.

We all nodded in agreement. “So, where should we go?”

“How about Tito’s? I heard they have a $3 special going on tonight.” Shiloh said.

“Tito’s it is then.”

With that I started the car and drove further into the city. We arrived at Tito’s around 7 pm and after parking the car, walked inside. The bar was quite busy that night with many couples sharing tables and others taking to the dance floor as a live band played. The four of us took to a booth across from the bar and ordered our drinks. The girls had gotten some classics like a gin and tonic, old fashioned and Manhattan while I just had my favorite soda. I was the designated driver after all. We sat and chatted for hours, and it soon was 10 pm and my friends were wasted. I struggled to carry all of them to the car as they giggled drunkenly, grasping onto me tightly. “Oh my god, Y/n! You’re so cute, you know that?” Shiloh said, giggling slightly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

I had to lean Tiffany and Shiloh against the back door as I struggled to put Ashley in. “Stop, Y/n! That tickles! Stop!”

I grunted as I managed to get her in with her seat belt on. Quickly I rounded to the back of the car and started to get Shiloh in. Tiffany slid to the ground and started to laugh uncontrollably. This was going to be a rough night.

It took about 15 minutes but I had finally gotten everybody in the car. I drove everybody back to Ashley’s apartment and started to unload them into the hallway. “Y/n, please stay. We can like have a big sleepover!” Ashley slurred.

“Sorry, honey. I’ve got work in the morning. But I’m sure Tiffany and Shiloh wouldn’t mind your company.”

I leaned down to the “Welcome” mat by Ashley’s door and grabbed the spare key. Unlocking the door, I dragged in all three girls. I placed Ashley on her armchair and Shiloh and Tiffany on the couch. Once I made sure they were all cozy, I snuck out before they could grab onto me. I made sure to replace the key under the mat before I walked back to my car.

The drive home was a bit chaotic. There were lots of people on the streets wandering around due to it being a Friday night and night life was hopping. I was placed out of my thoughts as my light turned green. I was in the middle of the intersection when suddenly my car was struck on the side by a much larger vehicle. I tried to regain control of the wheel as my stomach clenched, however, the car began to flip. I couldn’t even get a scream out as another car came and smashed into the front of mine. I could feel the car being slid across the road before slamming into a building. My head flew forwards and smacked into the wheel before flying back. My vision was doubling as I heard faint screams from the street. Just as my eyes began to close, I could have sworn I saw golden wings descending from the sky.

Before I even opened my eyes, I could feel warmth around me. It didn’t feel like a blanket or anything more like the Sun beaming down upon me. I slowly opened my eyes only to be blinded by bright light. Everything seemed to be overly saturated as I looked around and the gentle humming of violins filled the air. I sat up with a groan and held my head, a slight dull pain hitting it. What happened?

Suddenly, a set of double white doors flew open and revealed a tall, large man in a white, gold and purple robe, a demon looking mask on his face with black horns scraping behind his head. Beside him a smaller female with a black and white devilish mask, gray dress and white and black wings stood. “Ah good, you’re finally awake, babe.”

“Who are you?”

“Adam, first man. Autographs are extra, sweetheart. And this is Lute, my assistant.”

I just stared at him. What in the world? “Um, I hate to ask, but where am I?”

“You’re in Heaven, toots!”

“H-Heaven? You mean like Heaven and Hell Heaven?”

Adam’s yellow eyes rolled. “Duh! What other Heaven do you know of?”

My hands touched my chest and then my face. If I’m here does that mean-

“You’re not dead if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then how’d I get here? I thought only dead people saw the Pearly Gates?”

Adam’s smile grew wide and the sight of fangs alarmed me. “I may have pulled a few strings to get you here. Please hold the applause. You can thank me later.”

“Um, okay.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes to collect yourself, but don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

He snapped his fingers and the two left. When the doors closed, I took a few moments to breathe. What exactly happened? All I could remember was driving back home from Ashley’s apartment, getting into a huge car crash and golden wings descending from the sky. Could that have been Adam? But then did he know I was going to get into a wreck? Could angels predict that sort of stuff?

I shook my head and stood up from the bed I was on. Looking down I was in a light blue medical gown and my feet were bare. Was I in a hospital back on Earth? “You almost ready in there, babe? It’s been a while.”

“C-coming.”

“Not without me I hope.”

I stopped before the door. Did he say what I think he said? Whatever.

I opened it and stepped out. “Finally. Now come on, toots. Let the first man show you around!”

Before I could say anything, he slung a tight arm around my shoulders, and we walked off.

Heaven wasn’t quite what I expected. It was almost like the city I lived in just without what would be considered sin. Every angel smiled and waved as the three of us walked by and it was almost sickening how happy everybody was. “So how do you like Heaven, babe? Does it surpass your expectations?”

“I guess. I wasn’t really expecting to be here. How did I get here again?”

“That doesn’t matter. The important thing is that we’re together! Especially now that you’ve got a real man in your life!”

“Sir, you said you’d hold off on that information.”

“Oh what’s the big deal, Lute? Toots will be stuck here anyway.”

I stopped walking and the two turned to look at me. “Stuck here? What are you talking about? You said I wasn’t dead.”

“Not yet. But as soon as my favor goes through then you’re all mine, sweetheart.”

“F-favor? Are you going to kill me?!”

“Eh, sacrifices need to be made. But I can assure you my dick is good.” He winked.

“Get away from me!”

I bolted as fast as I could. “Lute, grab her!”

I could hear the flapping of wings as I continued to run. Just as I was rounding a corner, I could feel myself falling. It wasn’t fast but more like floating back to Earth. The light around me dissipated into a grayness and I felt myself land softly.

My eyes flickered open and it took me a few minutes to realize I was in a hospital room. I sat up quickly and looked around frantically. I couldn’t see any angels around, so I leaned back in bed. A knock sounded at the wooden door and in walked a short man with blonde hair. He had on a white dress shirt and red tie, white pants and black boots. He stopped by the side of my bed and a pleased smile graced his lips. “Thank goodness you’re alright. I thought you’d never wake up. You were in a coma for a few days.”

“You are?”

“Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? Dr Morningstar at your service. You were in quite the accident, little lady.”

“What happened?”

“From what we were told it was quite the fatal car crash. I’m not sure how it happened, but it seems like Heaven willed it to occur.”

He grit his teeth when he mentioned the glorious upstairs. Odd.

He went back to smiling at me and I couldn’t tell if it was the lighting, but his eyes appeared red. “The most important thing is we get you better. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.”

“Oh, I’m not married.”

“I see.”

His gaze dropped to my hand and I became uncomfortable with how long it lingered there. “Well, I’d better let you rest. I’ll be back later to check up on you.”

He bowed and exited the room, closing the door behind him. What is with today?

Over the next few weeks Dr Morningstar helped me recover. My friends came and visited a couple of times which was nice. I was told I could go home at any time soon. It was late one night when Dr Morningstar came into my room. “Alrighty then Y/n, I have your discharge papers right here.”

He handed me a stack of paperwork. “I just need you to sign the bottom.”

“Of course.”

I did as he said when suddenly the lights started to flicker. The room slightly shook as Dr Morningstar suddenly summoned a cane with an apple on top. “W-what’s going on?”

“You my dear, just signed your soul to me.”

“W-what?!”

“I didn’t want to trick you like this I promise, but it needed to be done. Adam was getting too close to you.”

How could he know about Adam?

“The douchebag spilled everything to me, trying to make me jealous I guess. But sad to say, you’re now mine.”

He walked closer and I attempted to run but was met with a whack to the head. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

My eyes couldn’t quite process the six wings and horns that my doctor gained as they closed.

Everything faded to black.

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mingihttps · 26 days

Text

21 questions

bang chan x fem!reader

you want chan by your side when having a panic attack but he won't answer your calls. thankfully han is there to distract you until chan finally comes home.

wc: >800

warnings: established relationship, angsts, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, crying, hyperventilating, self harm (hair pulling), pet names (baby, babygirl, my love, sweetheart), a couple cuss words

"the number you have dialed is-" i hit the red button on my phone screen with shaking hands. i've lost count of how many times i've tried to call chan in the past hour. my sobs and uneven breaths echo off the walls of my bedroom and reach my ears twice as loud. my boyfriend not answering my calls when i need him just makes the tears run down my face faster. my thoughts are running a thousand miles a second. going from feeling so alone to feeling like my own boyfriend hates me. it's getting harder and harder to breathe by the second as it feels like the room is getting smaller. then, suddenly, the sound of the dorm room closing and heavy footsteps are ringing in my ears. based on the loud rhythm of the footsteps, i can tell that they don't belong to chan. i tuck my head between my knees and tightly thread my fingers in my hair as a way to ground myself and, hopefully, keep myself quiet. i don't want whoever it is that entered the dorm to know that I'm having a panic attack for who knows what fucking reason at this point. i can hear the footsteps getting louder as they get closer and closer to my lover's room that i've been hiding in ever since they left for practice this morning. i tug on my hair harder as my tears or faster as the footsteps stop on the other side of the door. there is a gentle knock that sounds three times louder than what it probably was. i put a hand over my mouth to make sure no sobs came out, which is fruitless since whoever is at the door already knows I'm in here.

"y/n... can i come in?" i hold back A choked sob, which only makes my breathing more shallow. why had han come home? were the others on the way? god, I hope so. "y/n? i know you probably want channie-hyung but he won't be home for another hour... so can i please come in?" now that i know han heard me crying there's no point in trying to keep quiet. i uncover my mouth and let all of my shaky breaths be heard by han through the door. han quickly moves to open the bedroom door and make his way to me. "shit." i hear him mutter under his breath once he sees the state that i'm in, hyperventilating and shaking as i hold myself for comfort.

"what happened?" he whispers affectionately as he sits beside me on the bed and takes my other hand out of my hair gently.

"i don't know anymore." i said, truthfully and quietly, but han still heard me.

"that's okay sweetheart, you don't have to know," he whispers once again while smoothing down my hair, "wanna play a game?"

i look at han with teary eyes questioningly. "what game?" i sniffled.

"how about 21 questions?" han smiled down at me with practically pleading eyes.

i wipe my eyes and nod my head. i know he's just trying to distract me from my anxiety, but who am i to say no.

"okay, i'll start, what's your favorite color?"

"han, you already know that"

"just answer!" i teasingly shake my head before answering the question and asking my own. i don't know when, but han must have texted chan and told him that i was crying because a few minutes into the game, i hear the front door slam shut and someone calling my name. the bedroom door opens quickly, revealing my boyfriend.

"i'm so sorry, babygirl, are you okay?" chan says as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

"it's okay channie, i know you're busy," i reassure him as i wrap my arms around his torso, "hannie helped me calm down"

"i know, he texted me, i'm sorry i wasnt here sooner, baby" chan apologizes again.

"i'm going to end this game of 21 questions here, then" han says as he gets off the bed with a stretch and leaves to go to his own room.

"you hungry at all, baby?" chan asks and i shake my head.

"i am tired, though" i whisper as i lay down in the bed.

"then let's take a nap, my love" my boyfriend whispered back as he lays down beside me.

requests are open !!

reposted from my old account

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crazy4leclerc · 22 days

Text

for jules — c.l

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: after placing p10 in fp3 at suzuka and then p8 at qualifying, charles has a hard time maintaining his frustrations with the team and coping with it being jules anniversary.. and you’re there wrapped all up in it.

warnings: sad topic!, mentions of a death, little bit of angst, cursing, venting, and crying

a/n: first fic! pls be nice! also im sorry in advanced for making you sad

—

a part of me had this gut feeling that this would happen to charles, but another part of me really didn’t think this would happen since it’s been almost 10 years since jules bianchis’ crash.

i’m currently seated in the ferrari garage, headphones over my ears listening in to charles’ radio. it’s only q1 and he’s doing good compared to his fp3 hours before. i watch the tv as the cameras follow along with him on the track as he continues to try and beat his fastest lap.

after the 18 minutes are up, i watch as him and carlos both enter into the garage on the tv. i study the pit workers as i watch them work on whatever charles tells them needs to be fixed. before i know it, its already time for them to head out for q2.

charles started out decent but not good enough since he is currently in p9. i can feel myself tense up just at the thought of him being eliminated, especially knowing that’s the last thing he wants since this race is important to him.

i bite on my fingernails as i watch the other drivers speed through the finish line just hoping none of them beat charles’ time.

“what the hell is happening?!” i hear charles say to his engineer. “things will not be good if im eliminated. i don’t want to be below p9 for the race tomorrow!” i can hear the frustration in his voice as he is suddenly bumped down to p10 since fernando alonso made his way up the positions.

i take my headphones off and walk out of the garage trying to calm down for the last qualifying. all i can think about is how frustrated he was with the team after fp3.

i feel someone’s hand touch my shoulder, “y/n it’ll be okay. charles will make his way up, qualifying is one of his strong suits.” fred makes an attempt to comfort me.

“i know it is, im just worried because we all know how important this race is for him.” fred nods his head at me and gives me a weak smile, “cmon, let’s go cheer on our golden boy.” i smile and follow him back into the garage.

once we walk in, fred hands me back my headphones and sends a smile my way as he makes his way over the charles’ car.

apparently q3 has already started and charles has yet to go out. i noticed that carlos was already on the track, so why wasn’t charles? after the next couple of minutes, the time on the clock dwindles down and he finally exists out and speeds onto the track. as he makes he way down the track i find myself inching closer and closer to the tv. he’s up on the last turn and i watch his time clock as he goes through the finish line.

charles was bumped up to p8 and carlos was in p4.

there was only five minutes left of the clock but i couldn’t stop staring at the god damn tv, just hoping none of the drivers below him beat his time.

with less than a minute left on the clock, charles is still out doing his last lap. he comes up on the last turn, “that’s the best that i can do honestly. i don’t get it!” he speaks to his engineer. i sigh and put my headphones down since qualifying is now over. i wait for charles to come back into the garage.

once he and carlos parked their cars in the garage, i stand back as all the pit workers do their thing as charles begins to climb out the car. i watch as he hops down from the car and ignores everyone, even carlos who made he’s way over to speak to him.

i’m stood in the back as charles approaches me. he takes his helmet off as he’s walking towards me and tosses it on the rack near me and rips his balaclava off and throws towards his helmet. i frown as he speed walks right past me, not even making an attempt to look at me.

dumbfounded, i look back over my shoulder as he makes his way to his room, slamming the door behind him.

“don’t take it personal, y/n. he’s just upset with the team and i’m sure he’s blaming himself for it all.” carlos tells me.

“i just don’t get it. i don’t understand why they won’t listen to him sometimes.” i speak out loud not even caring if the team hears me. carlos shakes his head and gives me a pat on the shoulder, “go talk to him. i know he needs you.” taking in carlos’ words, i nod and head toward charles’ room.

when i walk in i wasn’t expecting to see his suit scattered across the floor. stepping over it, i make my way to where charles is sitting and sit down next to him.

“charles, it’s not your fault. don’t blame yourself.” i assure him as i reach out for his hand but i was mistaken as he quickly stands up from the couch.

“no! you don’t get it! no one in the god damn garage understands how important this race is to me and it’s like everyone is just forgetting the reason i still do this sport is for jules!” he grips his hair as he raises his voice.

“charlie, i do understand! me and carlos both know how important this is to you. please don’t take this out on yourself, it’s not your fault.” i try my best to assure him as he paces around the room which was beginning to make me very worried.

“my team can’t even fucking listen to me anymore. it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes.” i listen as he begins to rant, “it’s like they almost want to humiliate me! sending me and carlos both out for one lap during free practice three instead of two! and now for quali they just don’t give a fuck about what i say with the tryes!” i sigh as i watch him angrily pace over to me.

“i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i’m only going to embarrass myself at the race tomorrow!” i notice tears begin to fall down his distraught face. i feel my heart break in two at the sight. i grab his face in my hands and guide him to sit down on the couch next to me.

“charlie baby, you are not going to embarrass yourself tomorrow. do not let the pole position determine how good you do tomorrow. you’re the most incredible driver out there and i don’t care what anyone says. i heard one of the announcers say that your pace was the fastest of everyone’s, including max. you have the opportunity to redeem yourself tomorrow and i know that you will.” i comfort him as my thumb wipes some of the tears falling from his eyes.

“i don’t want to let jules down.” he whispers to me. “baby, you’re not letting him down,” i coo to him. “jules is proud of you no matter what. he doesn’t care what place you get. i know he’s so proud of how far you’ve come and the impact you’ve made on people’s lives.”

charles sighs and grabs me by the waist, pulling me into his side, “i’m sorry cherie. i’m so sorry for yelling at you and ignoring you. i shouldn’t have. i was just so upset with myself and i didn’t want you to see me like that-“ i cut him off, “charles, hush. i want you in every way. i want the good and the bad sides of you. i want to be there for you during times like this so i can reassure you and comfort you. that’s what im here for.” i tell him as i stroke his damp face with my thumb.

he grabs my face and tells me, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that right?” i shake my head no and giggle as he begins to smother me in kisses all over my face.

“well clearly i’m not doing a good enough job showing you, i need to step up my game.” he says and i giggle again at his words as my cheeks flush.

“i think you’re perfect the way you are, charlie. you’re going to kill the race tomorrow, no matter what happens, me and jules will be proud of you.” i assure him and he gives me a heart melting smile and grabs my chin to pull me in for a kiss.

—

i guess charles’ breakdown was supposed to happen yesterday considering i am currently cheering for him with the biggest smile on my face as he stands on the first place podium, holding up the trophy and pointing up to the sky, “this is for you, jules!” he yells into the microphone and the whole crowd goes crazy as they all cheer for him.

fred walks up besides me with a smile on his face, “what did i say? no one else deserves it more than that boy.” i smile back and say, “you would be right. jules is proud of him.” fred agrees with me as we watch charles doing the champagne spray with max and lando.

after the celebration was over, i watch charles sprint down into the crowd as security chases after him, but little do they know he is really only coming for me.

“mon amour, we did it! we did it!” he yells as he jogs towards me and sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me passionately in front of everyone. both smiling into the kiss, we break apart, “i love you more than you’ll ever know, baby.” he tells me, champagne sticky hands cupping my face as he pulls me in for another kiss.

and nothing else mattered because it was such a life changing moment in charles career.

#f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 #charles leclerc 16 #formula 1 #fluff #angst #jules bianchi #japan gp 2024 #suzuka gp 2024

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oikasugayama · 4 months

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YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 5

MDNI, this is a NSFW series for adults

pt 1. Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagwa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (Finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Atsushi

such a sweet boy... he's so down bad for you.

it's very obvious to everyone, including yourself, that he has a crush on you. he blushes every time you come in the room, he greets you overly-politely and always offers to run errands for you while he's out, and when you have to go on missions he makes sure to tell you good luck and he hopes you come back safely. he stares at you when you're working, eventually gathering the courage to tell you that he thinks you're very pretty, and he even admits that he likes you when ranpo and dazai threaten to tell you.

he tells you no pressure, don't worry about saying anything back, he doesn't intend on asking you out or anything because you're too good for him... but you surprise him and say you'd like to get to know him better as friends and maybe eventually you could go on a date.

he's over the moon!!!!!!!! and so you start spending time together outside of work, which was never an issue until you accidentally fall asleep at his place one evening.

you wake up on the couch and atsushi is nowhere to be seen. you rub the sleep out of your eyes, get up, and shuffle to the bathroom because you really have to peeee

and before you open the bathroom door, you turn your head to look at the source of a noise and see into atsushi's bedroom. he's sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he's rubbing his cock quickly. you're in awe, unbelieving that you've caught him doing this while you're visiting, and with his bedroom door open.

and then something shocks you more.

he cums, using his free hand to catch his mess, and you hear a very whiny, shaky moans of your name come out of his mouth.

you gasp, and his eyes snap open, his head turning to you.

"oh shit-- [y/n] i-- i'm so sorry, please dont--"

you run into the bathroom, locking yourself in. you have to gather yourself for a good couple of minutes before you can act normally again.

he knocks softly on the door, and you don't answer. he knocks again.. and again... he calls for you, and finally you open the door as he's about to knock another time.

his face is beet red, his eyes full of guilt. he tells you he's sorry, something came over him and he just couldn't help himself. he wasn't trying to being gross or weird and he's so so so so so so sorry

he's very surprised when you shrug and say you've thought about him while masturbating too.

Nikolai

you think you have the wrong hotel room when you open the door to find a white-haired man spread out on your bed completely in the nude, but then you notice a pair of your panties in his hand, wrapped around his hard cock

"i'm calling security"

"no need," he sighs happily. "i'm sure you'll find they're all on my side."

you try to call his bluff, but he's surprisingly fast and he springs out of bed, grabbing you and closing the door before you can get away.

"i've been waiting for you for so long! you can't go away yet!" he crowds you against the door, locking you in with his body

"it's you... you're the one who's been following me through town."

"you're just so beautiful," he says, trailing a finger down your cheek. "I had to have you to myself."

"who are you?" you ask with a shaking voice.

"i'm Nikolai, and i'm your man for the evening. once i've had my fun i'll leave, but i have a feeling you'll want me to come back" ;)

#bsd headcanons #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi smut #atsushi headcanons #nikolai x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai headcanons

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shutit-haha · 7 months

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"Katsuki," you swayed, "I think I might have been roofied."

"What!?" He gives himself whiplash from how fast he turns, neck cracking and muscles giving a slight pull. The two of you are in some damn frat house because someone invited you and you REALLY wanted to go. Knowing full well that you would stay here for an hour tops, half-hour if everything was already in full swing. This was certainly knew though, I mean 45 minutes in and you've been ROOFIED!

"I said," you leaned against him. Closing your eyes and attempting to take deep breaths even though those very same breaths seemed to make it feel worse. "Sorry Kat," you grabbed at him tightly with your hand. "My stomach's getting all swirly."

He goes into full fucking panic mode. His large hands wraps around your arm a little too tightly dragging you into the crowd with him. He's moving like a fucking linebacker just shoving whoever's in his way. The blonde takes a sharp left turn around a corner yanking you into a hallway with him. The lights here are shut off making it damn near pitch black. His shoulder slams into strangers making out and dry humping and the two of you cringe at the moans that come from the many bedrooms. The floor underneath your feet is sticky, and with the way you feel right now it's a fight just to rip yourself off the wood. Your muscles feel heavy, eyes barely open. The world keeps swirling and spinning, bright colors popping out at you even in the darkness. There's this terrible throbbing between your legs, making your thighs tremble slightly.

"Kat," you whine. He kicks open the bathroom door throwing out the couple currently occupying the space.

"Yea," he gently guides you over to the toilet bowl. "Wait actually don't fucking touch anything in here, it's all disgusting. Bastards don't know how to fuckin act." He's tugging you out into the hallway again, the couple from just a few seconds ago scurrying back in.

"Katsuki," your legs are struggling to keep up. You feel weak in the knees, stumbling over yourself as a result. Your hearing comes and goes, a war between absolute silence and migraine inducing noise. "Bakugo I can't," air escapes you in huffed breaths. "I can't keep up, please," you beg him.

The blonde -still rushing for a reason you don't understand anymore- scoops you up in his arms. "I'm gonna get that shit out of your system, and kill that asshole. Fuckin scum, piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk the earth." He grumbles clutching on to you even tighter. Your brain is so fuzzy you giggle at his silly words. "What," he looks down at you for a quick second.

"Hot, Kat. Tired," you yawn. Moving with large strides Bakugo carries the two of you out of the fraternity. You shiver the moment the cool air hits your sweating skin. "Cold," you whine curling into him and wrapping tightly around his neck. The poor man chokes with the grip you've got him in. How the hell is he expected to breath in a condition like this?! Not only that but you're pressed flush against him with the way you've twisted yourself around.

"HAH, didn't you jus' fuckin say you where hot?!"

"I'm hot on the inside Katsuki," you screech and wail. You say it like it's common knowledge and it kills him a little. "Wait," your hands fly outward. "I got throw up." The man damn near drops you, only half careful of how he's handling you. Your feet hit the ground and you bend at the ankles and then knees. Just as you're situated it all hurls itself back up. It's ok though, because he's here to hold back your hair for you.

"Gotta get your dumbass home," he mumbles under his breath. You whine bringing your hand up to your mouth to wipe away the mess, only for Bakugo to grab at your wrist. "Don't you fuckin' dare, that shit's gross."

"How am I supposed to clean myself," you look up at him with big blown pupils. Your lashes leave long shadows on your face from the streetlight, lips puffy from whatever drug was forced into your system. There's water lining the bottom of your eyes, a result from emptying your guts, and you're still so hot.

"Just hold on a minute, dammit." His head whips around in search of something, though to no one's surprise there's not much to clean with on the front lawn. His eyes fix onto the door, resignation settling in. "Don't you fucking move from here," he points down at you aggressively. "Do you understand?"

You nod absentmindedly, hand coming up to your mouth once again.

"Don't do that shit! Just sit still dammit, I'll be right back." He hates having to run back into that fucking mess of a party. It reeks worse than it did before, the odor much more noticeable after breathing in some fresh fucking air. He fears that if he makes the wrong step he'll roll his ankle from the sticky floor, and then theirs all the bodies. These jiggling, sweaty bodies, in sync and yet still so far off beat. He's quick, bulldozing through all those extras to get to where he's going. You've been fucking drugged by one of these damn creeps and part of Bakugo worries that they'll find you while you're all alone out there.

"Katsuki," big gooey smile, when he emerges back outside. A shiver racks through him, the cold catching him off guard. He immediately steels himself right afterward determined not to let it happen again. "Katsuki," you sing, "kat-suki, suki, kat. kat, suki," you giggle and then smile. You're clearly out of your damn mind, body rocking back and forth while your hands grip onto your ankles tightly. You look like a fucking kindergartener, at the thought of that he snorts.

"Here," he throws the whole paper towel roll at you.

"Thank yoou," more singing, and an even bigger grin.

He only spares you a couple seconds to clean yourself before he's yanking you up onto your feet. The rough skin of his hand wraps around your elbow, and you stumble right into his side. The roll is hugged close to your buddy like some sort of stuffed animal, thighs pressed together tightly. "Can you carry me again?" Your eyes fall shut sleepily, cheek resting against his hard shoulder.

"Hah!?"

"Please," your hip presses against his now. "Please, I'll kiss you if you'll do it for me."

"Don't say that shit," his cheeks dust pink like a school boy.

You giggle, "I'll kiss you even if you don't pick me up." Paper towel roll still pressed against your chest, you lean into him lips grazing under his jaw. "I wanna kiss you," you hum breathing in his scent.

"Don't say that shit!"

"But I wanna kiss someone," you whine.

"Someone?"

"Anyone," you kiss the flesh at his jaw and neck.

"That shit's getting to you."

You nod absentmindedly again, placing another kiss on his warm skin. "Mhm, I think so."

"I'm taking you home," he bends at the knees slightly begrudgingly picking you up.

"Mmmm," you hum, "I like the sound of that."

He squeezes your thighs harshly receiving a slight hiss from you. "Gotta fucking behave if I'm gonna be doing this shit for you. Not gonna fucking baby you for you to be a brat."

Your arms wrap around his neck bringing yourself as close to him as possible. That damn paper towel roll still smooshed between the two of you. "Does that mean you're gonna punish me?" It was said so innocently, still made his cock twitch.

"Don't say that shit," he growls at you, jostling your body as a way of adjusting himself.

"I'm sorry," you kiss his neck, "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that shit either."

"But," you grind against his abs, "I need to feel something."

"Not me! Take care of yourself later," the thought of you touching yourself quickly popped into his head. Once again he was jostling you to adjust his pants.

"You feel so good," another innocent comment as you grind yourself against him.

"What's I say about behaving," he snaps at you.

"But you said to take care of myself."

"Later!"

"Are you gonna punish me now?"

Thank god the car was coming into view. "Oi! I'll fucking drop you!" He hakes his head, "the hells your obsession with that shit."

You shrug, "like how your hands feel on my ass." Another kiss to his neck, and then your hips jolt on their own grinding against his hard abs. This time you just can't stop yourself, the pit of your stomach feels like it's on fire and the way your muscles are contracting- you just have to. You need too.

"Hey," some part of his subconscious had clearly been paying attention to you. The part about his hands, and the punishment, because his hand came up and then down in one sudden slap. You could hear it whoosh in the air, and then that crackle when it met your rear. You stilled, moaning and arching your back. He nearly fucking dropped you, the one hand holding you completely unprepared for that hell of an arch.

"Fuck," you panted. Your lips kissed a trail up his neck and then nipped the skin behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry d-" You bit your lip, suppressing what so desperately wanted to be said.

He fucking dropped you.

Your legs where shaky, knees buckling soon as your feet hit the floor. You expected to fall onto your knees just like you did on the lawn, but he slammed you up against the car. Your back roughly hit the metal, one hand keeping your hip trapped against it, the other hand keeping hold of your wrist. "You're driving me fucking crazy you know that," he spat in your face. His breath fanned against your skin, eyes burning. "I have no clue what that fucker gave you but-"

You kissed him, hips wiggly in his hand in search of friction. He bit your bottom lip, teeth sinking into plush, your back arched. "Fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, swear I'll stop after that. It'll make it stop just fuck me please just-"

He leaned back in, mouths smashing together, teeth clinking just before he forces his tongue in catching a taste of your mouth. Aphrodisiac, "bastard gave you a fucking rape drug."

You shake your head, hips wiggling with more vigor. "No want it," you breath heavily, "want it."

He shoves you aside, opening the passenger door for you, "just the drug."

"No," you're crying now. Hand venturing down to your waist band to give yourself some kind of relief. "Want you," you bite your lip when your hand grazes your clit. "I-" pant, "want you." All your weight is held up by the car, eyes shut to better see the fantasies. "Fuck," you groan.

He doesn't know what to do, he's kind of just watching you. It feels gross, feels wrong but, fuck he likes it. Mouth agape while you fuck yourself to him. It's not real. He's gonna wale up. It's just a wet dream, a movie.

"Wanted you since-" gulp, "that compression shirt, at the- at the gym." You whimper at that, "sweat, nipples were hard." Your eyes open all half lidded and hazy, pupils having consumed whatever color was once there. Your sclera isn't even visible anymore. "You're such a whore," as if your fucking pussy wasn't literally squelching right now.

That was it for him, you weren't gonna fucking insult him like that. As if you were some fucking saint. Yeah, right. He slams the passenger door shut, the back door flying open followed by him quickly shoving you into the car. Your back bounces on the leather seats, one hand quickly rushing to yank down your pants and underwear. The burly man climbs in right after you moving with quick hast, he shuts the door behind him with another loud slam.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut," hand squeezing a the sides of your throat. He's fucked once or twice, never like this. In the back of his car, cock aching, in such a hurry. With the way you were acting it seems like it's only take a couple strokes before you tapped out, you had already been edging yourself in a way. (I mean with you grinding and whatever else and him stopping you every other five seconds.)

He unbuttons his jeans, briefly thinking about turning on the air-conditioning only to decide against it. Fuck it, let the windows fog up. (That'd be new too.) Katsuki doesn't even unzip his pants he just tugs at the sides and forces the zipper to go down itself. You brely catch a glimpse of his boxers before those too are tugged down his muscled thighs. Damn gym rat.

He rudely slaps away the hand you have between your legs, only to smack his dick against your clit. "Condom," you mutter.

"Didn't I say to shut up," it's a nasty snarl, yet still you have the balls to smile at him.

"Please," you spread your legs for him.

"Didn't bring one," fuck please don't tell him this is what's gonna cock block him. He'll fucking destroy this car with the amount of anger that wants to blow. Yet you ever so seductively reach into your bra and pull one out.

"Here." You take it between your teeth tearing at the packaging while he pumps himself. You pass it over to him, the wrapper gracefully falling somewhere underneath the seat, condom rolled on in a blink. No prep, just his dick getting shoved into you.

It's a stretch, a painful, hissing stretch. Your tugging at his shirt pulling it off of him while you adjust, his hands sliding up and under to unhook your bra. "Move," it's a command, an order. And despite his big fucking ego, he listens to you. One large hand placed next to your head, the either forcing your shirt up as it ghost over your body. Your scratching at his back, and rubbing his scalp. It's an odd combo of pain and pleasure for the both of you as a result. "More," you're shouting now, "more," you gasp.

"Take your shirt off," his voice is gravelly and out of breath. The hand once fondling with your breast is now gripping under your thigh. It's pushing your legs up and up and up, till they're resting right on top of his strong shoulders. Your pussy clenches around him upon feeling the muscle moving under your legs. His mouth comes down to suck your right nipple, eyes staring dead into yours.

Fuck you're cuming, quick with his name on your tongue. "Not fuckin' done," he groans, grinding into you with another thrust. "Don't even think about movin' didn't-" He hisses, "fuck, didn't get to cum yet." Another grind and then he's bringing a calloused finger to your clit.

"Katsuki..."

"Yeah baby," it's low and husky, drawing more slick from you.

"Was lying about the condom." He gives you a harsh thrust at that, clearly fucking pissed. "Don't give a shit about it," he nearly pulls all the way out to slam back in. "Just wanted to-"

"Get to the fuckin' point," other hand squeezing at your throat.

"Want you to come in me," you're fucking yelling. "Please," begging.

"Fuck baby, that's enough to make me come on the spot."

You whine at that, "no."

"No?"

"No, please. Inside please."

He pulls out, smirking when he sees how your walls clench around the empty space. "Missing me," he teases rolling off the condom carelessly dropping it onto the floor. In a snap he's back in, three strokes and then he's gone.

The liquid is fucking hot, it's scorching. You wanna taste, wish you would have gotten the chance to. The thought of that has your walls fluttering and coming a second time. Your eyes are all dazed and glossy, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. Carefully Katsuki pulls your shaking legs off his shoulders, while your hand reaches up to push his hair out of your face. "Fuck you're a brat," your lip tint smeared all over his lips.

It makes you smile all soft and gooey. "I'm tired now."

He snorts, pulling your underwear back onto you. "'Course you are," he tugs on his boxers and jeans. "Don't let any of that shit spill out you understand me?" He's pointing at you, face back to that scowl. You nod, pulling your pants back on. The both of you tug on your shirts, he moves to the front while you remain laying in the back. You find a sweater of his and tug it on while he starts the car, rolling down the windows to air the thing out.

"We're doing that shit at least one more time," he says pulling the car out of park.

"You're place or mine," you smile at him through the rearview mirror.

#x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #college au #aphrodisiac #afab reader #smut #reader insert #unprotected sex

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woewriting · 16 days

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𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗲 (𝗶𝗶) | 𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 & 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her.

tags. mdni! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (cairo receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness. | word count. 4619

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.”

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath.

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back.

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.”

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him.

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together.

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.”

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist.

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you.

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch.

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth.

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him.

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you.

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death.

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house.

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol.

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle.

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you.

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart.

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.”

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn.

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you."

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head.

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol.

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go.

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.”

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs.

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue.

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.”

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow.

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp.

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you.

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth.

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine.

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you.

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh.

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death.

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes.

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse.

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her. Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor.

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you.

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed.

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door.

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms.

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

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