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#my usual formula lmao
skitskatdacat63 · 1 year
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2005 Canadian Grand Prix - Kimi Räikkönen, Michael Schumacher & Rubens Barrichello(my personal post-race highlights)
+ Bonus Jenson Button & Fernando Alonso DNF cameo
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hotwheelschili · 4 months
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This is what happens when you live in the city where checo is from lmao checo oatmeal
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opens-up-4-nobody · 7 months
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...
#i spend so mad god damn time bitching on this website. its bc i dont talk to ppl. whens the last time i had a non functional conversation?#uuuuhhh last weekend or maybe the weekend before that? so like i gotta complain somewhere. so if i stop complaining u can assume i made#friends lmao. ugh. its just. im worried. im worried abt how this semester is gonna go. how this phd program is gonna go#bc i spent the last 2 years destroying myself. realized ive gotta stop doing that. haven't figured out how to stop and now im gonna triple#the amount of pressure im under while trying to do things in a more healthy way. its just like. it objectively doesnt seem like a formula#for good things to happen. im more worried for how catastrophic its gonna b on my brain than i am abt the things i think most ppl would b#concerned abt. like im not worried abt planning and executing a project or teaching beyond fear of the unknown#its like. ive done these things before. theyre difficult but u make due and tackle the problems. but when it comes to: how to maintain a#healthy school/life balance? i dont even kno where to start with that. i just dont bc when u have a learning disability things just take#more time but like how much time is too much? where does it end? i dont kno how to manage it and i dont wanna hate my project by the end#of this. i want to b excited and not paralyzed bc im afraid i cant change my behavior and its gonna kill me#and im worried bc im meeting with my advisor for the 1st time since march before i agreed to join thr lab and have i prepared for this#project which is almost complete unrelated to what i did in my last lab? no bc ive been managing data and im still not done managing data#bc i cant focus bc i collected that data in a way that was actively self destructive. and i mean i kno itll b fine. thr guy seems nice i#just hate that im showing up devoid of enthusiasm bc its all been drowned out by the fear. and thats also gonna make teaching a problem#bc its hard to b excited abt things when there's a hole in your chest and ur desperate for someone to tell u how to fix it. but idk helping#ppl does usually make me feel better so maybe itll b a good thing. forgot how much i feel like im dying when i sit in meetings and#classroom tho lol. god its been 2yrs since i was a student. classes feel like such bullshit now. and yet if i dont get all As i might die#my students better b good. i have the 1st lab section bc thr lead ta couldnt do that time. so im the trial lab and i start fucking Monday#who tf does labs the 1st week of class? ugh. also its an intro bio so like 2/3 of thr class r freshman. lil bby 18yos and some r non bio#majors. and ive been warned that sometimes there r problems with ppl who don't believe in evolution and cause problems. pls let my classes#b good. im not that worried. its just gonna b annoying as fuck. im not good at being authoritative#ugh. i should b reading papers so i dont look like too much of an idiot tomorrow. itll b fine im just an anxious freak. a lil over a week#until i can try to find a therapist. probably seek medication bc i dont kno how else to stop this bullshit. annoying. i grew up with a dad#who gets anxious abt the idea of taking too much medication when he tskes a single ibuprofen. in this household we feel pain and then we#die miserable. this is all his fault. we have the same brain.im just a lil more irradidic than him#its so funny i say that bc im like the least irradic person ever. i do the same things every god damn day. im just irradic in terms of#sometimes i feel like my brain is on fire and im a cry bby lol#whatever. enough bitching. ive got papers to read. or maybe ill just go to bed and read them tomorrow 🙄#unrelated
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taupewolfy · 16 days
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man. i have so many thougths on legends arceus but it mostly boils down to 'fairly ok double a feeling game'
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grrrlsoverdramas · 2 years
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I thought if I waited to start Vice Versa I could look at the tags to better understand how the heck the plot works but I looked through and I’m more confused lmao...
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natailiatulls07 · 5 months
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Situationship
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Frat!Lando Norris x influencer!reader
Summary - They are in a situationship but it’s not like the public don’t know, their pr teams need a pay rise
Warning - mention of a situationship, swearing, alcohol, partying??
A/n - This is based around Central Cee and Madeline Argy, and I mean so based that Madeline is kind of a face claim in this loll
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yourusername posted a story
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f1gossip
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Spotted: Lando Norris at a party in Paris with Norwegian DJ and music producer, Kygo. It’s not usual for Lando to party in the city of love, is he here for someone special??? 👀
Liked by username and 7,026 others
username Looking hot as usual
username Lando dating rumours??
username DJ/frat Lando = the best Lando 😍
username Maybe he’s there to see Pierre or Ocon?
= username I doubt that
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username Heyyy anyone seen Y/n’s new pod, Miss gurl has a little situationship 😏
username She said on her story that she in Paris with her favs, maybe he’s there with her……
username Yk who else was in Paris this weekend??!?!!
username A certain frat boy formula one driver!!
username Oh give over, there’s no way!
username Yeah like how would they even meet??
f1gossip
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Spotted: They do say that Paris the city of love. Lando Norris and Y/n L/n share an intimate moment out on the streets of Paris, is this the situationship influencer Y/n was talking about in her podcast??
Liked by username and 6,926 others
username That girl on tweeter was right!!
username ‘no strings attached’ Yeahhhh I don’t think soooo
username Ummm I don’t knowwww
username You mean that’s the girl who sitting with her dog in her car is in a situationship with Lando Norris a formula one driver 🤨
= username Mate! She’s more than a random girl, she has done some many things!!
= username And also don’t forget Lando Norris is no saint, he is the definition of a frat boy athlete
mclaren
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Thank you Y/n L/n for coming to the Sunday race day to support McLaren!! 🧡
Liked by landonorris and 89,727 others
username WHAT THE FUCK!!
username Oh they’ve totally fucked! Look at the tension between them!!!!
yourusername Thank you for having me 🤍🧡
~~ Liked by landonorris
username Lando we can see your likes LMAO
username ADMIN WE LOVE YOU FOR THIS
username When will they just admit it?!?!!!
username McLaren pr need a fucking pay raise OMFG
username Who’s that with her in the third pic??
= username Max F LOLLL
landonorris posted a story
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username How are we all feeling after Landos first winnnnn??!!
username OVER THE MOON BABY
username I can die happy now 😚
username Anyone see his insta story??! ‘My lucky charm’ 🥹
username We all know that his lucky charm is definitely Y/n L/n she was there watching on, even the cameras panned to herrrr
username She practically had heart eyes for him!!!
landonorris
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Wassup Suki? 🤍
Tagged: yourusername
Liked by maxfewtrell and 104,926 others
username Everyone thank McLaren Pr for forcing these two to become public 👏🏻👏🏻
username McLaren admins are a god send 🙌🏻
username THE FAST AND FURIOUS REFERENCE OMG
mclaren you’re welcome everybody 😌
= landonorris Thank youuuu
username I need to see more please!!!
yourusername
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Wassup Bullet? 😉
Tagged: landonorris
Liked by riabish and 98,827 others
username She looks good in papaya!!
username not so ‘No strings attached’ anymore lol
username Was it ever really a situationship??
= yourusername No not really lmao
= landonorris wouldn’t have it any other way tho 😚
username Frat boy and influencer girllll
username FAVSS
username Oh how I love formula one admins 🫶🏻
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mickyschumacher · 8 months
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hi! I love the way you write and I’d love to see some Daniel Ricciardo or Oscar Piastri content!! Older brother’s best friend and something including model!reader or figureskater!reader. I also cannot begin to describe how much I love your Taylor song based fics. I was hooked on Style and Dress, thank you, have a wonderful day :)
𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐
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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you don't have much in common with oscar piastri other than three things: you're both rare talents, you know each other through your older brother, and that, unknowingly, you both really like each other.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: older brother's best friend trope! (although not heavily enforced), suggestive but nothing crude, poor ice skating knowledge, mentions of the spa track, crashing and DNFing, reader likes to blame things on alcohol, lily (oscar's current gf) is his ex (oops), slight diss of tsitp, jealousy!!!, scene of harassment and a creepy man, a physical altercation in which oscar gets physically hurt, attending the wounded scene! (sobbing rn), a cute and horribly cheesy, fluffy ending!
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x figureskater!fem!reader, arthur leclerc x reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5k+ (um srry hehe)
𝐀/𝐍: i wanted to this was oscar but since he's kinda young, i did a one year age gap bc the territory of 'the older brother's best friend' for piastri is alarming to say the least. i also assumed it was a female reader due to my other works, hope that and this whole piece is okay!!
𝐏.𝐒: if you couldn't tell, it's loosely based off of taylor swift's 'i can see you' bc i ended up losing track lmao. sorry for taking FOREVER but coming back from holiday, going straight back into uni, and having writer's block is the worst combo 🤧 as usual, poorly proof read!
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆
In a world of billions, quite strangely yet only logically, there were many talented people across the globe. But very few were be a World Champion let alone the opportunity. You were part of this few. The Youngest World Champion in figure skating in history, a two-time World Champion and the 2022 Olympic winner.
You were a living legacy in your town.
Of course, you couldn't do it without the support of the people you loved. Your parents attended all your competitions. In fact, your father was the one who had brought you to the ice when you were three. And your brother, no matter how much of a menace he was, he was your number one fan. Despite all the things he had to do, he was always there for you.
Your brother was one of those Australian boys who had turned their passion for dirt biking into a career for motorcross racing.
Naturally, he had found a friend who was also very interested in racing. However, instead he loved driving a open wheel single-seater formula racing car at crazy speeds. That friend was Oscar Piastri. A childhood best friend of your brother's and a sort of acquaintance slash family friend of yours.
It worried you two see some of the most important people in your lives risk death almost every day but you enjoyed watching them do something they loved.
You could see it in their eyes when they raced. It was the same passion you had for the ice. The slivers of ice that occasionally touched your skin thrilled you was the same excitement that coursed through the two Aussies when they felt their engines rev.
It was odd. You could've sworn a few days ago, you were all kids playing in the backyard of your house; your brother riding his toy bike while Oscar raced him on foot and you commentated in Oscar's favour to piss your brother off. And now all three of you were leading your careers: you were a competitive figure skater, your brother was slamming the MXGP and Oscar was one of the best rookies introduced to F1 in a while.
Where time had gone... you could not even begin to wonder. Heck, once upon a time you were staring down Oscar in the school hallways because for some reason you could only talk to him outside of school. And now... well, it was complicated to say the least.
You had always liked Oscar. It was difficult not to. He was always around you. The boyish charm, the small smiles, the puppy brown eyes, his offers to help you with your homework, you visiting him when he raced... everything had built up inside you. It was festering.
But that's how you liked it. You didn't want to cross any lines. As heart-racing and flustering as your crush on him was, you could not bear the idea of telling someone who was brotherly to you that you liked him.
It was repulsing.
And as far as his dating history could went, Oscar didn't like you. Oscar wasn't a player but he definitely didn't like being single from what you could tell.
To be honest, considering you didn't see him that much due both of your schedules, nothing between the both of you would've ever happened if you're annual family holiday hadn't happened.
Your family and the Piastri's took time out at least once a year to relax together. And this year, your brother and Oscar's breaks overlapped, and you had persuaded your coach for two weeks off. That was all the both of your parents needed before booking a trip to Greece. Everyone wanted to go when they were younger and now they could finally go.
Two weeks... not much could happen. At least so you thought.
The moment you saw Oscar in Greece, your heart thumped against your chest like it had never before and you knew you were screwed. It was ridiculous. How after all the time did you still like this stupid driver? He was the root cause of your lonely love life. Which for most figure skaters was not a big deal... you had prospect lovers falling left and right. Especially the guys in pair skating. But no... you were head over heels for Oscar out of all people.
With the firm boundaries you had made, you ventured to not make a big deal about what you were feeling and pushed it to the side. But the thing about pushing things away, they have a funny way of coming back up.
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On the first night of your much needed vacation, you had found one of the most popular restaurants in Santorini while endlessly browsing through social media and decided to get everyone out of the lovely AirBnB you had rented. Upon arriving, your parents and Oscar's were cooped up on one side of the dining table, leaving the 'kids', as your mother calls you three, on the other.
You released a sigh of content, feeling the crisp breeze dance past your skin in the warm summer evening air while your sip of assyrtiko (Greek white wine) slipped past your throat far too easily. Thank God you had chosen an outdoor restaurant tonight. Every time you were on holiday, you couldn't be more grateful to get away from all the stress. If you could live like this every day, with the warm breezy evenings and the amazing architecture, you would.
"So," your mother started, her voice hitting your direction. You flickered your gaze over to her, raising a brow. "How are my kids' love lives? Are you getting down?" She waggled her eyebrows behind her glasses.
A wave of heat pricked your skin at your mother's words. "Mom!" You hissed out in disbelief while your father and Oscar's parents chuckled.
"What? You guys never tell me anything anymore! I used to be the holder of all your secrets and now... now I am an old woman!" Your mother cried, wiping an invisible tear off of her cheek.
You and your brother blankly looked at her and then towards each other. To say your mother was a character was an understatement. She enjoyed her theatrics far too much for anyone's liking, more specifically you're liking.
Oscar grinned, reaching out his hand to hover over hers. "You could never be an old woman. Always young in my heart."
Your brother snorted at Oscar's cheesiness. After you and your brother, Oscar was your mother's son and Oscar was a suck-up. He liked being in the good books, especially that of your mother's.
"Of course," Your mother chuckled softly, patting Oscar's hand gently. She sucked in a sharp breath. "What happen to you and Lily? I heard you two broke up? I thought you liked her a lot?"
You could see Oscar tense at the mention of his ex, your own body rigid. It wasn't a surprise to you but you actually hated hearing about Oscar's love life. Unrequited feelings were already a bitch and you didn't need to make it any worse.
Oscar cleared his throat, a small smiling tugging at his lips. "I thought I did too..." He trailed off, falling into his own trance momentarily. Suddenly his eyes flickered around his surroundings before they landed on you. "I guess I just saw something I else I liked a lot more."
A slight shiver crept down your spine and your heart travelled towards your ears. You pressed your lips tightly together, furrowing your brows.
What the fuck?
You snapped your eyes away, firmly placing them on your empty plate that suddenly held your entire world. Oscar had never ever looked at you like that. Any time you looked into those puppy browns, they were usually some mix between happy, anger, annoyance, sadness, humour, and the God forbidden 'I-see-you-as-my-sister' type love.
But this... this was something else entirely. The softness of his gaze, his words, the timing of it all; a perfect execution of sorts... it was a first.
Maybe you had taken one too many sips of the wine. It was the only reasonable explanation behind your obvious hallucination.
Sooner or later, the sun would set, a main reason behind your picking of the restaurant. The parents and your brother were at the front of the house, arguing about who paid for tonight's dinner. You were more than happy to wait it out on the balcony and revel in the last few rays of light, eyes closed and the breeze dancing across your skin.
"Well don't you look happy," Oscar voice stated, nearing you.
You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to the side only to look back a few second later. Oscar and sunsets... you enjoyed that combo far too much for your liking.
"That's because I am. Sometimes being off the ice is refreshing," You told him, taking in a breath of the fresh evening air.
Out of your peripheral vision you could see Oscar tilt his head, eyes raking over you with a small grin tugging at his lips. You ignored the pace of your heart as he nodded at your remark, settling in next you with his hands on the balcony bar, a mere inch away from your own.
"I hear that," Oscar sighed, looking out at the horizon.
You forced yourself to look over at him, trying to read his mind after hearing the burdened sigh he released. "Oscar... I hope you know you're doing well in F1 right now. You're doing pretty good compared to Lando's rookie year."
Oscar smiled gently. You knew him far too well. "I know. I just... I feel like everyone's expecting so much more of me. Podiums... race wins... like everything else I've done. And then Spa came along."
You winced at the mention of the track. Oscar had collided with Carlos on the very first lap. Carlos said Oscar was too optimistic about making that turn and Oscar said that he didn't even know what Carlos doing; that the Spaniard turned as if he wasn't even on the track. Nevertheless, the collision resulted in both of them DNFing.
You snorted. "Spa is a shit track," You dismissed Oscar's current pessimism with a wave of your hand.
Oscar chuckled at your crudeness. He couldn't disagree with you. Spa was one of those tracks which felt auspicious to any driver. The one where you hoped you at least passed the finishing line. It didn't matter what your position was... as long as you passed it, you were okay.
"Guys come on! We've finished paying," Your brother called out.
The both of you turned around. Oscar pushed himself off of the bar, heading towards your brother. "Who won this one?" He asked in amusement, hands gliding past his waist. Ever so gently, in his walk, he teetered towards you, letting his hand brush past your own, sending a tingle down both of you.
You gulped at the racing feeling, immediately pulling your hand closer to yourself. This hairs of your body stood straight and your fingers felt numb. Heck, you felt numb.
Damn, you thought, this is some crazy good wine.
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The thing about your inclination to blame everything on the alcohol you consumed was that it only actually worked if you consumed alcohol. You were lucky if you could extend to the remaining bits by a day with the claims of a hangover.
But right now, you were sober as hell.
An unfortunate event, to say the least.
"Y/N, wake up," Oscar's voice pounded against your blanketed, muffled ears.
"Ugh, no" You groaned, cocooning yourself into your blanket and pressing your head further into your pillow, savouring the warmth.
You always had such early mornings when you trained, waking up at ungodly hours only to workout before heading to the rink. Being on the ice was the only thing you loved. Your fans were sweet but everything else after that, the press, the workouts, the food, sucked. So you cherished the late summer morning in Santorini. And no person, let alone a boy who announced his F1 team to you by saying "I'm driving for a papaya", was going to ruin this for you.
Oscar put his hands on his hips, eyeing you with a twitch in his eye. "But breakfast is ready. I cooked!"
You laughed into your sheets lightly. "Oh boy, that's even worse!"
Oscar looked at your peeking head and humoured eyes blankly. "That," he started to say as he began to literally pull you out of your bed by your arms, "is very very rude thing to say to the chef."
"Oscar, no! Let go!" You begged, hands flailing to attach themselves to anything. Falling on the hard cold floor was not the ideal morning for you.
At least not alone.
You jutted out your leg, nudging Oscar's to the side, making him stumble over his steps. As he quickly realised he was losing balance, he threw his body under yours, creating a soft landing for you as you both fell to the floor.
You were laughing too hard to realise Oscar's one hand had even moved to your waist and the other to your head, as if it was to protect you from getting hurt.
"Oh my God! You should've seen your face! It was like–" You turned to mimic his expression but you couldn't find the words. All the air around you had been seized, your throat was dry and you were breathless.
When had Oscar's face become so close to yours?
You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to him. Probably as a child. He was cute back then as well. But growing up changed the both of you. The most apparent reminder of how old you were was the tiny short hairs from his chin that he always tried to shave off. His eyes were still as brown as ever, less big because he grew into his face. And his lips... they were kissable.
His face was also littered with freckles here and there. You didn't even realise your finger had shot out to play connect the dots with them until you could feel his faint warm breath from how close you were.
Your eyes trailed up his face to find his gaze firmly planted on yours. Suddenly you could feel where his hands were and your skin burned at his touch. The current heatwave in Europe had left you in some thin pyjamas. You didn't regret it last night but you definitely regretted wearing them right now.
Hypnotised, you found yourself leaning in naturally. Oscar's head also nudged forward. Your lips were barely a centimetre away from each other. You could hear your name slip out of Oscar's lips as the faintest whisper. Like it was a struggle to say your name because he couldn't think.
His woody and amber scent engulfed you and for a second, you couldn't think.
Not until you could hear your brother scream both of your names from the kitchen, demanding you to come to breakfast.
You blinked, falling out of your trance as quickly as you fell in.
Oscar felt you jerk in his arms suddenly, pushing yourself out of his hold and attempting to stand up. "Y/N, I–"
No. God, no.
You weren't ruining a friendship over this.
You could pretend. Yes. Pretend. You can't see him.
"We're coming!" You yelled back, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment and annoyance; both vexing feeling for yourself.
God, what a day to be sober.
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Honestly how this holiday had gone from zero to a hundred was beyond you.
Pretending like nothing had happened in your room was harder than you thought. Not when Oscar looked at you with these burdened eyes and like he had something to say to you, right on the tip of his tongue.
You considered avoiding him. But doing so on a family trip was easier said than done. Besides, it would've been pretty obvious to everyone else and knowing your family, they would've made a big deal out of nothing. Because that's what it was: nothing.
But alas, you have a brother. And normally, he's stupid and self-obsessed to the point it bordered on unhealthy. But as your brother, it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something about the older sibling being superior or whatever lies he convinced himself with.
"Why are you being weird with Oscar? Your brother asked you while you ate some ice cream and caught up with the new season of 'The Summer I Turned Pretty'. At first, you couldn't fathom watching a character called 'Belly' out of all things but somehow you got hooked.
You paused the scoop of ice cream you put in your mouth, letting it slowly melt away as you stared hard at your nuisance of a brother. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."
"Ha, nice try. You're supposed to use 'literally' when you deny it the second time," Your brother smiled at you smugly.
You pressed your lips together, feeling your teeth slightly grind against your spoon. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to smack the shit of your brother with a spoon or bury him in a six-foot deep hole.
"Come on, lil sis, you can talk to me. Everyone's out of the house right now," He partially jested while being entirely serious.
Burying him in a hole it was.
"I have nothing to say to you," You stated, eyes reverting back to your show.
Your brother narrowed his eyes, grabbing the remote to pause the episode. Ignoring your exclaim of annoyance, he sat down next to you and took your ice cream and spoon away from you to dig into the pint for himself.
You shuddered in disgust. You were not having that flavour for a while.
He pointed your spoon at you. "I know you think I'm stupid, which I may be, but I'm not entirely an idiot. What happened with you and Oscar? You were all happy buddies a few days ago. Now he looks like a lost puppy and you look like you saw Pennywise in the hallway."
You bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. You couldn't actually let him know he was funny.
"Did he do something to you? Y/N, if he did something wrong to you I swear to God... just tell me and I will end him."
Your eyes widened at the sudden change of the conversation. Sitting up, you waved your hands in urgent dismissal. "No! Oh my God, nothing like that! Holy shit."
Your brother let a relieved exhale fall from his mouth before furrowing his brows. "Then what happened? Is it your stupid crush on him?"
"I–what?" You asked dumbfounded, looking at your brother incredulously.
"Your crush? Like the one you've had since you first laid eyes on him. You know everyone knows right? It's kinda obvious. Well, everyone but Oscar," your brother said nonchalantly.
You blinked blankly at him. "Before I throw myself off of a cliff, I can give you the generous choice of how you die? Personally I'm thinking asphyxiation, arson, or murder."
Your brother gulped, slowly putting away the ice cream. "Okay, first off stop watching Criminal Minds so much. Second of all, you don't need to feel embarrassed. All of us have been secretly rooting for you. Especially mom and Oscar's mom. You should've seen how happy they got when I told them Oscar and Lily broke up. It was seriously creepy."
You sighed, falling onto the couch. "It doesn't matter how creepy it was. We almost kissed! And then you called for us. Any later, I would've ruined our friendship. What's the point anyways? He doesn't like me. I'm gonna die in the friendzone," You dramatically sobbed out.
"Well you can start by not turning the other direction when you see him. Poor guy looks like you killed his dog. Do you think a guy who's dog was killed has any guts to speak to their murderer? And that's beside the fact that he may like his murderer."
Where was that shovel again?
"You know what you need to do? Do something that makes him talk to you. I got it! I could set you up with Arthur! He's in Santorini too! Oscar would hate it."
"Oh my God... do you want me to die?" You asked, slightly horrified at the look of pure joy on your brother's face .
Your brother grinned. "Of course, I do. Would I be your brother if I didn't?"
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For as long as he could remember, Oscar was a peaceful guy. He didn't really get angry quickly. He was usually calm and usually could think before he acted.
But all those characteristics were thrown out the window, well into the air of the music festival everyone decided to attend, when he saw you walk into the event with Arthur Leclerc. His former teammate out of all people.
"Is that Arthur? Why is he here?" Oscar asked your brother.
"Hmm?" Your brother turned around, pretending to squint at the two of you briefly before catching your piercing gaze. "Oh yeah... that is him. He told me he was in Greece. Guess he found Y/N first. Makes sense I guess."
Oscar looked at your brother dubiously. "I... what does that even mean?"
"I don't know why but I always got the feeling he liked Y/N," your brother shrugged.
Oscar blinked. "You're taking the fucking piss..." He huffed in disbelief.
"What? Oh? Here they come."
Truth be told, Arthur was more than happy to oblige with your brother's game. He hadn't seen Oscar in a while because they were in different championships now. Getting the opportunity to play with him a bit was a hard offer to turn down.
"Ozzie!" Arthur cheered, bringing him into a hug.
Oscar raised a brow at you. That pet name originated from you when the three of you decided to become superheroes for a day and you decided to name eight-year-old Oscar, 'Ozzie the Mozzie' after he got bitten by one. No one else on Earth called him that but you.
"I was telling Arty here about that mozzie that bit you and he really liked Ozzie the Mozzie," You chuckled softly.
Arty...
God give him strength because Oscar wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this.
To be honest, you weren't much of a music festival type of person. It was always crowded, hot, and filled with some sort of drugs even if you couldn't see it.
But aside from that, you enjoyed the serenity it could bring; the indie music that was well on it's way to becoming pop; the calming breeze; the warming sun.
Well you would enjoy it more if a certain Aussie wasn't staring daggers to the side of your head–Arthur's head.
You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see a stranger. A somewhat attractively creepy stranger but a stranger nonetheless. You raised your brows and gave a small smile. "Yes?"
"I know you don't know me but I just saw you from over there and I wanted to say you're really pretty!"
You blinked, feeling the three boys around you stiffen at the compliment. You nodded slowly, putting on a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you so much," You responded, laughing awkwardly.
A moment of awkward silence settled in the air as the guy still remained in front of you.
"So... I was wondering if I get could get your number?" The guy asked with an odd glint in his eyes.
The alarms were ringing in your head and an uncomfortable shiver went down your spine. "Uh, I'm sorry. I... I don't really want to. But thanks for your offer," You politely declined.
"Oh come on. I called you pretty... that's gotta be worth your number. Come on."
Oh.
Honestly, you were speechless. Your number which for him was the leeway into your intimate life was worth a compliment.
"Yeah, I don't think so," You quipped sharply, gritting your teeth.
"Come on, baby girl. Let me show you a fun time." The guy stepped forward, his hand reaching towards your body.
You froze at his words. You wanted to move but you couldn't.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Oscar, Arthur, and your brother step in front of you.
"Mate, fuck off. She doesn't want you," Oscar pushed the guy away from you.
Your brother snorted. "I don't think anyone wants him."
The guy sneered, making you wince. He raised his hands in a feigned defence, beginning to turn away from you. Thank God. "Fine. I didn't want a girl like you anyways. All these guys around you... a whore."
Arthur and you, as the pacifists you were, watched in silent horror as your brother poked his tongue in his cheek and Oscar's head quickly whipped towards the guy.
"Oscar..." You warned meekly as Arthur tried to get your brother's attention.
The last thing any of you needed was famed athletes on the front page of ESPN, cited as the cause of a brawl.
"What did you say?" Oscar raised a brow, ignoring your pleas and walking towards the guy. His tone was dark and the total opposite of what he normally sounded like. He was raged.
"The truth," The guy chuckled. "I said she's a whore. Why? What are you gonna do about it, little boy?"
Yeah see, the guy most definitely had a couple of inches on Oscar and you brother. You weren't really keen on seeing them get pummelled to the ground.
Oscar said nothing in response but raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the guy's jaw.
Oh for fuck's sake.
As if the guy had lightening reflexes, the guy quickly pulled his head back up and got a hold of Oscar, getting into a cycle of punches.
Your heart dropped at the sight. Your brother, thank God, and Arthur quickly realised that Oscar wasn't winning anything here, stepping in to push the two men apart. A small crowd began to gather, some thankfully aiding in trying to stop whatever was going on.
Arthur pulled Oscar away and towards you. You held Oscar against you, clutching him tightly as your heart raced in your ears. Somewhere in the muffled sounds you could hear your brother.
"We're going home. Now."
━━━━━━━━━━━
Your brother and Arthur had decided to go explain the situation the both of your parents who were out having lunch because you couldn't blame all those bruises and dry blood on Oscar's face by saying he fell. This left you to clean up Oscar to reduce the risk of your parents having a heart attack.
You clenched your jaw, holding the first aid kid and a wet cloth to your side as you walked towards the seated racing driver who had found a lot of interest in the floor all of a sudden while icing his face.
"I can't believe you," You mumbled in annoyance, taking a seat next to him. You gently grabbed his chin, putting side the ice bag, trying to decide on where to start cleaning but you could only wince at his face. His bottom lip and his brow was slightly torn, the side of his jaw and the top of his cheek had started to bruise, and his nose was a blood fest.
All the pain Oscar felt began to disappear as he felt your hands gently graze past his skin, scouting all the damage that had occurred. He looked at your pained eyes and internally sighed. He hated seeing you in pain. "He was disrespecting you. I wasn't going to just let it go."
You rolled your eyes, slowly wiping away the dry blood. "He was like six foot two, Oscar. You're like five foot. He could've ki... he could've really hurt you," You jested before your voice fell into a bare whisper.
Oscar's heart clenched as you went back on your words, watching you grab some antiseptic with shaky hands. He grabbed your hands, holding them with his own and softly looked into your eyes. "But he didn't. I'm fine. See?" He smiled widely before wincing at the pain shooting through his face.
You snorted. "As if."
"Hey, you're talking to a guy who crashes at most craziest speeds. Bet that guy can't do that," Oscar shrugged nonchalantly.
You narrowed your eyes. "If you weren't already hurt, I would've smacked the shit out of you right now. Just so you know."
Oscar grinned at you. "Ah, there's the ever kind Y/N I love."
You rolled your eyes before processing what he had just said. As friends. Friendly love. Right. You shook your head out of your trance, removing your hands from his and returning back to the stupid first aid kit next to you.
Oscar mended his brows together. "Hey," he tapped your thigh, "you heard what I said right?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah," You said idly, opening the tube of antiseptic cream.
"What? I..." Oscar sighed, taking the cream out of your hands before pulling you closer to him. His hands held your face, looking you dead in the eye. "I said I love you, Y/N. You know... the type where you look at someone and all you know is that you can't breathe without them? The one in your books?"
Your mouth felt dry. You blinked blankly. Your hands felt clammy. You chuckled nervously. "Pfft, what? You don't love me. You mean as a friend, right? I think you need some medicine. Maybe there's some in this kit." Your eyes darted down, frantically looking around the box as your heart thudded against your chest.
"Hey, hey," Oscar called, using his hand to turn your chin towards him. "I don't. I mean, I do love you as a friend, but no. I love love you."
"Well... what about about Lily?"
"As I said... I realised I loved someone else more," Oscar told you, letting his confession sink into your mind. "You know... if your idiot brother didn't call us that day, I definitely would've kissed you."
Oh.
Well.
That was something.
This was real. You weren't dreaming. You hadn't died. Oscar, your childhood best friend and your brother's best friend, was confessing to you.
"Huh... well, if it's any consolation, I probably would've kissed you too," You retorted, trying to keep your quirking lips at bay before you began smiling for too much for anyone's liking.
"Probably? That kinda sucks. Are you sure you wouldn't have definitely kissed me?" Oscar grinned, grabbing your waist and seating you down on his lap.
"Hmm... I mean maybe. This current environment is nowhere near as enticing as my bedroom. I mean what is sexier than me waking up, am I right?" You joked, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying at the proximity between you two.
Oscar pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek, holding your jaw while his thumb grazed your lips. "Well, I can think of a few other things."
You silently watched as Oscar leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were softer than you could ever imagine.
You blinked, taking a mere second to register what was going on. Oscar Piastri was kissing you. Holy shit, Oscar Piastri was kissing you!
You kissed him back, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck and the other holding you steady against him. Your skin burned at his touch, feeling his fingers snake past the hem of your shirt and rest on your hot skin.
Oddly enough, despite your heat, goosebumps sprawled across every inch of your skin as his tongue darted out, exploring your own, giving you access to his mouth.
You could've sworn you were walking on fire. One more step and you could've combusted. Your thighs clenched at the moan that slipped from Oscar's mouth as your teeth tugged on his bottom lip, your hands roaming around his chest and his arms.
Oscar's hand wrapped around your hair, enjoying the softness he had wanted touch ever since he realised he had feelings for you. His pants felt tight as he felt your hand brush against his bare torso. Fuck. You were going to do him in. He fell back further into the couch, holding you tighter against him.
The desire you had was blinding you. Your other hand fell to his cheek, forgetting about his injuries till Oscar murmured an "ouch".
You retracted your hands, pulling back from his lips, a move Oscar clearly didn't enjoy as his eyes followed your lips. "Shit!" You exclaimed, "the antiseptic! Sorry!"
Oscar paused in his trance, realising what you were talking about. He smiled softly, lips widening even further when he saw your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
You carefully applied the cream to his brow before moving to his lips. "The diagnosis for you Mr Piastri is no more kissing for you," You grinned.
Oscar looked at you dumbfounded. "I–what? For how long?"
"Mmm... a week?"
"A week?" Oscar repeated in exasperation. "There is no way I can last that long. Not after this. Besides I'm pretty sure kissing actually helps you heal faster."
Your skin warmed further at his confession. You cleared your throat and held his hands. "I am confident that is not scientifically true."
Oscar narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. "You need to read better medical journals, doc."
You tilted your head to the side, leaning in further. "I think I have an alternative."
"Yeah?" Oscar's eyes danced across your face, smiling softly. "What is it?"
"It's less practical, more theoretical. Confessional, if you will," You shrugged, letting your forehead rest against his.
Oscar shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of you. "Oh really? Don't let me stop you."
"I love you, Oscar. I've loved you since we were little heroes running around in the backyard."
Oscar opened his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist. He smiled widely at you. "Are you sure you said a week?"
You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. "I'm sure."
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
1K notes · View notes
marlenesluv · 5 months
Text
Teammates Roommate… (OP)
summary: as max and landos roommate, you hear a lot about formula 1, but you usually stay out of the heated conversations. but when lando and max start posting you online, tagging you, landos teammate, oscar piastri, is interested in you.
pairing: fem!reader x oscar piastri, fem!reader x platonic grid
fc: kurodahana on insta
warnings: i’m pretty sure none, i cant remember if there’s cussing or not lol
type: smau + dialogue
masterlist here -> masterlist link
^ check my list for all posts! ^
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: landonorris, y/n.user, and 42,013 others
tagged: landonorris, pietra.pilao, and y/n.user
maxfewtrell: roommate reveal on the second slide 😛💅
view comments…
pietra.pilao: my fav gal <3
↳ y/n.user: pietraaa <3
lnfournation: WOAH SHES SO PRETTY
mclaren481edits: omg girl crushhhh
f1updates: THE INSTA DROP
landonorris: not the side eye, y/n🙄
↳ y/n.user: wtv
user7: she has a public insta?? HELLO
danielricciardo: y/nnnnnnnn🤠
↳ y/n.user: danielllllllllll🤠
bigricenergy: y/n and dan besties?
user1: pietra and max are so cuteeeee
f1fp16: she’s so pretty ohmygosh
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 28,024 others
y/n.user: first day at the mclaren paddock tomorrow, kinda nervous
view comments…
oscarpiastri: so excited to meet you!
↳ y/n.user: yayaya!! me too :)
f1updates: she’s literally so gorgeous, how did she wind up living with those two😭
↳ y/n.user: LMAO PLS. first, tysm. and i grew up with max and lando! so we j all kinda decided when we were older to live together
user3: awwwhaha the pic of missing max, you found him!
papayafam814: girllll we are so excited to see you in the paddock!!!
maxfewtrell: i love that second photo!
↳ landonorris: prove it. make it ur lock screen
↳ pietra.pilao: no. im his lock screen
↳ landonorris: 🙄
piasss81: ooo oscar and y/n content!! i’m excited
user8: pretty girl omg
francisca.cgomes: omg our sushi date was so fun🥹 we need to do it again soon!
↳ y/n.user: i’ll see you tomorrow, babe😋 we can get lunch?
↳ pierregasly: no?? you’re gonna steal my gf from me?!
↳ y/n.user: so? kika?
↳ francisca.cgomes: yesss let’s get food😛 pierre we can get dinner
↳ pierregasly: wow thanks
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
your instagram story:
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seen by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 24,134 others
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
When Oscar met Y/n, the only thoughts in his mind were how funny she was, how everyone in the paddock loved her, and how beautiful she was. He wasn’t sure if he was experiencing a crush or a heart attack with the way his heart was beating out of his chest when he asked for her number.
Y/n gladly gave him her number, knowing she would probably be hanging out with him again soon. Lando had invited Oscar to stay with them during break, which was right after this race.
Of course Oscar was excited to hangout with Lando and Max, and he knew Carlos, Pierre, and Charles would probably come over at some point as well. But he usually kept to himself, something Y/n seemed to do, but not with her friends. She easily got along with the paddock, though. Joking with Oscar and Landos engineers, getting food with Oscar, Lando, Max, and being joined by Zak Brown.
Oscar didn’t expect Lando to barge into his drivers room after Qualifying though. He had just sat down and was drinking his water when Lando opened the door, where he could see Max and Y/n walk by, probably to the cafe.
“So…when are you going to ask her out?” Lando asked, after he had closed Oscars door and stood infront of him.
“Who?…” Oscar picked at his fingernails, even though he knew exactly who Lando was talking about. “Y/n, you muppet. When are you gonna ask her out?”
“I don’t think I will, Lando. She doesn’t even know me.” he brushed his hands through his hands, making eye contact with Lando.
“Maybe. But if you ask her out, then you guys can get to know each other. Come on, mate. She’s been single for two years now, all of her past boyfriends were dicks to her, and you’re a good bloak. Max and I approve.”
Oscars head snapped at Lando, “You guys approve, do you? Have you guys been talking about this?”
“A bit. Listen, get changed. Put a nice shirt on and meet us in the cafe. Max and Y/n are already ready. Us four are going to get dinner. Hurry up.” Lando said, leaving before Oscar could even reply.
Surprised, and a little excited, Oscar got changed and met you guys in the cafe. He saw you, sitting next to Max and Lando as Max called Pietra, and Lando scrolled through Instagram. You made eye contact with Oscar, getting up and waving him over as Lando noticed, smirking at Oscar.
“Hey, Oscar! You ready to go?” you bit your lip, just out of pure habit? making Oscar look and nod, “Yeah. Are we gonna meet there..?”
“Oh, about that, mate. Can you take Y/n and I’ll take Max? Just easier transportation that way.” Lando said, smirking again so Y/n couldn’t see, but Oscar could see perfectly.
Y/n smiled at Oscar, unaware of Landos planning. Y/n did find Oscar cute, maybe that wasn’t a good idea to tell Pietra. She swore she wouldn’t tell her boyfriend, but the thought of her best friend with a good guy and happy, she couldn’t resist telling her boyfriend when he asked, having his own suspicions when he caught Y/n watching Oscars race pov one sunday.
She wanted to get to know Oscar better, as he did her. “Yeah, that’s fine. You wanna just send me the address?” Oscar asked, pulling his phone out for when Lando sent it.
“Mate, we are just gonna go to our house. Y/n obviously knows the address. We’re gonna watch 22 Jump Street and order Chinese takeout.” Lando got up with Max and said their byes to Y/n. Max making kiss faces behind Y/n and Lando winking.
“Ready?” Y/n asked, grabbing her bag. “Yeah…” The two of them left the paddock together, occasionally getting stopped by fans for pictures, and Netflix to film Oscar leaving after Qualifying.
As they got to Oscars car, he opened the passenger door for her, closing it when she got in. He threw his bag in the backseat, and started the car up. “You wanna put your bag in the backseat?” Oscar asked, reversing out of his spot. “Hm? Oh, sure.” She placed it on the floor in the back and he played some music, light conversation about her school floating around.
“Wait, so you’re studying art history then?” Oscar asked her as he drove to her house.
“Mhm. It’s actually really interesting.” Y/n looked at Oscar, making quick eye contact as he nodded and looked back to the road.
“Do you like it? You seem more like you’re into the history aspect than the art.”
“How did you know that?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I saw you earlier on your laptop looking at an article.” Oscar shrugged.
“I do enjoy the art aspect though! I don’t know what I’m going to do with my degree but, I enjoy it. Its better than accounting.” Y/n sighed as Oscar laughed a bit, “Not a math fan, I take it?”
“I’m horrible.” she deadpanned, making Oscar laugh more, her joining in. The rest of the ride was filled with general conversation. Not much needed to be said between them. They had a mutual love for quite, and they didn’t find it uncomfortable. If anything, it was comforting. The slight music in the back, the only other noise being his car.
When they got to the house, Lando and Max were unpacking the food, as Y/n had texted hers and Oscars order in the car. Glances between the two were common throughout dinner, back and forth, and flirting done by Oscar.
Annoyed by the lack of flirting by Y/n, Lando grabbed Max and dragged him out of the room, leaving the two introverts alone.
“They aren’t going to talk if we aren’t there, mate. Y/n is too shy.” Max said, cracking his neck as Lando glared at him. “They’ll talk. They have to. Did you see the way Y/n stared at him as he unwrapped chopsticks?? My god, she’s so touch deprived. I’m rooting for them.”
“Yeah, I know. Hopefully Oscar speaks up, cause Y/n could go days without talking.” Max spoke, looking at Lando as he had his ear against the bedroom door and heard talking, “Mate! Oscars talking to her- oh wait! I heard her too!”
“You’re being a little creepy….move over.” Lando scoffed at Maxs comment, scooting over to Max could listen as well.
Out in the living room, Oscar had turned the tv down so he could talk to Y/n. They ended up having a long conversation, during which he asked her on a date, which caused her mouth to open a bit, nod, and say yes. “I’d love to, Oscar.” Which caused him to smile at his spring roll.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 57,237 others
y/n.user: sunday? no. race day. monday? no. date day.
view comments…
landonorris: LFG. THE SHIP HAS SAILED
↳ maxfewtrell: calm down, mate (i’m ecstatic)
user3: lando and max are the captains of this ship fr
oscarpiastri: my gorgeous girl 💓
↳ y/n.user: pretty boy💓🫠
ferrarifriends: the second picture?!🥹
↳ mclarenfp814: so cuteeeee
pietra.pilao: ugh. picture perfect couple
↳ maxfewtrell: and us??
↳ pietra.pilao: calm down, babe
papayapage1: oscar is so bf in these pics
y/ns.fp.official: UGH SHES SO PHOTOGENIC
lilymhe: my girl crush fr
↳ alex_albon: 🤨
↳ lilymhe: i said GIRL crush. you’re the loml, it’s different
↳ alex_albon: ❤️
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes, and 59,130 others
y/n.user: osc after getting p3 and me and kika on another dinner date while our bfs train🥱
view comments…
user7: being the best wags really does take it out of them. justice for all wags! we love
oscarpiastri: we’re so cute ☺️
↳ y/n.user: ik☺️
f1wags: a couple i would die for
papayabros: taylor swift coded?
↳ yourbsf: mitski coded.
↳ y/n.user: MITSKI😫🫠💓
user5: ummmm, don’t know if i wanna be y/n, or be WITH y/n
↳ user9: the second one
mawfewtrell: CUTE COUPLE ALERT 🚨
↳ landonorris: WEEWOO WEEWOO
f1updates: adorbs adorbs adorbs
y/nandoscarfp: my otp fr
francisca.cgomes: we do take the best pics of each other fr
↳ y/n.user: we really do
oscylan814: papaya boy #81 is taken ladies :’)
↳ oscarsedit8fp: okay buttttt she’s so cute and funny and nice so i’m good with it
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
your instagram story:
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seen by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 37,024 others
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: y/n.user, landonorris, and 382,024 others
oscarpiastri: nyc dates and subway pics <3
view comments…
y/n.user: photographer oscar is here <3
↳ oscarpiastri: im only your photographer tho
↳ y/n.user: i’m not paying you tho
↳ oscarpiastri: pay me with kisses
↳ y/n.user: on it!!
redbullfp1: might be my new fav couple…
brasilll4ever: guys i saw them kiss at the brazil gp and they were so cuteee
f1wags: omggg ours favs ☺️
user8: ugh the way he posts her is too cute
papayabroskis: papaya gf!!!!
↳ mclaren814bae: i love papaya gf!!!!
landonorris: the way me, max, pietra, arthur, and charles were also with them in nyc but they wont post us?!
↳ arthur_leclerc: we don’t mean anything to them😔
↳ maxfewtrell: it’s so rude
f1updates: we all know that if pietra was there, then everyone else was third wheeling y/n and pietra
↳ pietra.pialo: so true 💋
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)
618 notes · View notes
beefboyandbabygirl · 8 months
Text
Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)
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pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader
genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff
description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?
warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe
quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"
wordcount: 13.9k
a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy
You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly. 
You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.
You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart. 
You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed. 
Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate. 
You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean. 
You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy. 
The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles. 
You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped. 
You enter Mingyu’s room.
You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone. 
Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake. 
The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better. 
Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.
You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents. 
One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper. 
You take it.  _____________________________
“Hello?” 
Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.
“Are you there?” 
Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice. 
You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you. 
There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 
“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you. 
“Y/n?” 
“Mhm.” 
“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile. 
“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door. 
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?” 
“Hm?” 
There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.
“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?” 
You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth. 
“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side. 
You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry. 
“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice. 
There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again: 
“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?” 
You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.
“That’s good luck. So...”
A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart. 
“Good luck.”  _____________________________
“You’re awake!” 
It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior. 
“I can see you sitting at your desk.” 
Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.
It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”). 
The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up. 
“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh. 
“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”
“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!” 
“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.
“Oof.” 
“Hey!” 
“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”
“Just a small decade.”
“I’m mature for my age.” 
Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower. 
“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.” 
“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown. 
“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.” 
You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.
“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio. 
The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers. 
“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”
“No, what the fuck.” 
“I got binoculars.” 
“Ew, you are a stalker!” 
“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.” 
“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.” 
“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.
“You’re so white,” you grinned. 
“I’m not even white!” 
You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line. 
Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor. 
“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.
“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.” 
“Sounds like you really know your stuff.” 
“Get off my ass, Fermata.” 
You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell. 
“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.” 
“Secure.”
“Shut up.” 
“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper. 
“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.” 
“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.” 
“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.” 
“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough. 
“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________
“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?” 
“BV?” 
“Bay Valley.”
“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.” 
“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth. 
The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this). 
“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent. 
“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker. 
“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!” 
“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”
You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so. 
“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw. 
“You down yet, Queen B?”
You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.” 
You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds. 
“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves. 
“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed. 
“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.” 
“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.” 
“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.” 
You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower. 
The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths. 
You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.
“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again. 
“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed. 
“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.” 
“Okay, rude-” 
“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?” 
“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.” 
You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance. 
“Hey, uh, Y/n?” 
The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up. 
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.
“Oh, uh, sorry..” 
It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.
“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright. 
“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.” 
You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass. 
“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.” 
“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” 
“Okay, good,” he mumbled. 
The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth. 
It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side. 
“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!” 
“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice. 
“Thank you!” 
You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4. 
The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.
There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note. 
Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white. 
It read: 
‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’
“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”
“Oh.”
There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly. 
“Do you want me to read it to you?” 
Silence. 
“No, not really.” 
“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?” 
Silence. 
“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.” 
“Oh.” 
Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket. 
“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind. 
Seungcheol didn’t respond. 
You left Eleison Valley alone.  _____________________________
This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out. 
You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had. 
Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.
A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it. 
You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu. 
Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth. 
“Seungcheol?” you gasped. 
When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears. 
There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you: 
“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight. 
“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.
“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?” 
“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off. 
“... Are you crying?” 
You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?” 
“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance. 
“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?” 
Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark. 
“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”
“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.
“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal. 
“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?” 
“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.
“Can I tell you about birds?” 
He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…
Oh. You must’ve started dozing off.  _____________________________
You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself. 
You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds. 
It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights. 
You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed. 
This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh. 
“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.” 
This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion. 
Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor. 
“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound. 
“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay? 
“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.” 
“You work out every day?” 
“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted. 
You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.
This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-
“Are you- are you, like, buff?” 
The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry. 
“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?
The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease. 
You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts. 
“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles. 
“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”
Ugh. 
You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower. 
By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner. 
Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone. 
An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear. 
It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.
In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.
Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe. 
“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”
“Y/n?” 
You froze. 
Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren. 
The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.
“Y/n, are you okay?” 
You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled. 
In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes. 
“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer. 
There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?” 
This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!
“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…” 
Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?” 
You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.” 
Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?” 
You were not: “Yeah.” 
There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-
“You wanna know what I think you were doing?” 
Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting. 
“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.” 
Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?” 
“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing. 
“I thought you wouldn’t want-” 
“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable. 
“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again. 
“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back. 
“Yeah.” 
“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?” 
“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away. 
“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.” 
“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?” 
You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine. 
“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.” 
“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand. 
“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.” 
You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon. 
“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack. 
Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-” 
“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid. 
The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl. 
The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.
Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?
“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?” 
Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.
The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.
“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour. 
“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’” 
“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile. 
“DID YOU CUM?” 
He sounded pretty when he laughed.  _____________________________
“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.” 
Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory. 
“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope. 
“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!” 
“I will,” you said, agitated. 
“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”
“I won’t,” you said, deflated. 
Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own. 
The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in. 
SWOOOOSH!
A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening. 
“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker. 
“Yeah, I’m right with them.” 
As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.
“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.
“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness. 
“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from. 
“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.” 
“We’ll take them back home-” 
“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less. 
“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy. 
“Good job, Fermata.” 
You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.” 
You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest. 
It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52. 
“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute. 
“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?” 
“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.” 
“Damn it!” 
“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”
“Open that bad boy up.” 
You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather. 
The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows. 
Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag. 
As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought. 
You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it. 
It read: 
‘Hey Seungcheol,
If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.
From Jun.’
The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.
“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred. 
“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”
You put the letter away.  _____________________________
A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard. 
"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio. 
“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.” 
“Shit, I should make coffee.” 
“I’m way ahead of you.” 
The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle. 
“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.
“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.” 
“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?” 
“Uhhhhh-” 
“I’m gonna check it out.” 
Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.
“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--” 
“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!” 
And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.
You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes. 
“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope. 
“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.” 
Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!” 
“Say yes, Y/n!” 
You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”
“... I’ll take that, asshole.” 
Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards. 
Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface. 
KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!
You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling. 
It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek. 
The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-
Where was your radio? 
Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth. 
There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 
“Hello? Seungcheol?” 
There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish. 
“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking. 
You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild. 
Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark. 
You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger. 
Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance. 
You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help. 
Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol. 
Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky. 
“Y/n!” 
You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.
“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!” 
“Y/n!”
You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.
“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood. 
It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion. 
“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same. 
You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.” 
His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?” 
“Bird watching is crazy, man.” 
He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?” 
“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”
“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.” 
Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).
Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go). 
“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.
“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed. 
It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed. 
There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.  
When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it. 
Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot. 
“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking. 
“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap. 
He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.
“Can you-?”
“Hm?”
“That little- little table over there-”
“What?”
“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?” 
“Oh, yeah, sure.” 
The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea. 
“I should take a look at your back,” he said. 
“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.
You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.” 
“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it). 
“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles. 
A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof. 
“Are you okay?” 
You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.” 
He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?” 
“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”
Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.” 
“I found another letter.”
Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?
“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily. 
Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you). 
“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.” 
You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour. 
“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.” 
“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.” 
“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.” 
You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back. 
“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.” 
“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”
“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips. 
You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten. 
“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.
“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?” 
You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.
“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”
“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too. 
Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another. 
“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”
You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.” 
He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.
“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt. 
“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin. 
Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met. 
“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face. 
Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.
“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?” 
It came out as more of a question than a statement. 
Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up. 
“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder. 
The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you. 
Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it. 
“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.” 
Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?” 
You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core. 
“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck. 
“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers. 
You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor. 
Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped. 
His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off. 
He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.
“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?” 
“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!” 
“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further. 
His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds. 
“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 
Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly. 
“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned. 
“I need to-” 
“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly. 
“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-” 
“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.” 
My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance. 
“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands. 
And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb. 
“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you. 
“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response. 
Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over. 
There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock. 
“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”
“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.” 
The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way. 
“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-” 
“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.
“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.” 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.
Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?” 
“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick. 
Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you. 
Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed. 
“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.
You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.
“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”
Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.” 
“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable. 
“Yeah.” 
“Can you stay here?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Can your dick stay inside me?” 
This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back. 
“Sure, baby.” 
You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself. 
At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you. 
Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:
“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!” 
And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too. 
835 notes · View notes
weebsinstash · 5 months
Text
Omega Reader being one of the only if not THE only Omega in an entire Spider Society of Alphas and Betas 😩❤️
Alpha F! Reader in a Spider Society where you're the only female Alpha and Miguel is Having Confusing Feelings because oh shit you can get him Pregnant Pregnant? Like you're packing? Hmmm.... 😳
Reader who is a normal human and doesn't understand or is maybe like "curiosity killed the cat" about "oh wow Miguel can purr and growl? What else can he do 😳" and you're totally unaware he can like, TELL when you're ovulating and you cant even tell when he or anyone else scents you (imagine hobie scenting you to piss miguel off lmao) 💦
Reader who is one of the very few Omega in a Spider Society of normal people but your pheromones actually still affect everyone lol so like yeah some people are yandere already and others are like "you know i dont know what it is but Reader is looking real submissive and breedable and im usually not even into that shit" 😏
Reader being a "late bloomer" where you thought you were like, a normie who didnt present, and you're suddenly struggling to function because all these people you've been bonding with suddenly all have special smells that make your knees wobble sometimes and occasionally your boss gets a little bit of a growl in his voice and you're suddenly thinking, "could I fuck him raw and just take plan b. I really want an extra large super sized buffet style creampie from this man" (and also angst/possessiveness because maybe you're really upset and want to go back to "being the old normal you" and you start avoiding people who mysteriously want to spend more time with you now more than ever, and I'm also a sucker for 'new Omega wants actual surgery or drugs to not be an Omega anymore even if it's blackmarket shit that could kill them') 🙏
I'm also a fan of like. "You burned me or deserted me or I quit the group we were in together because of how you treated me and after some time has passed now that you want me back I'm actually a single mom now and here's my cute adorable little baby that I won't let you even sniff at even though the dad isn't even in the picture"
Like I'm not a parent obviously but there's some real visceral horror in the concept of like being pregnant and you're surrounded by people like unreasonably obsessed with the fact you're pregnant, like to an extremely nosey controlling "all but hijack your life" degree. You put your baby down for a nap and go to check on then 5 minutes later and they're FUCKING GONE and you start absolutely losing your mind and its like "oh no it's fine, Peter B just felt entitled to break into your place because he wanted Mayday to meet her new sibling and spend time with their Uncle Peter"
Reader is in their home dimension maybe even refusing to be a Spider anymore and you've STILL got people CONSTANTLY literally warping to your location and robbing you of any and all privacy. You get woken up in the middle of the night by your baby crying and suddenly abruptly it stops and you turn around PANICKED and. There's Miguel bottle feeding them "because you've been so tired, let me help you 🥰" and you're freaking out because, one, Miguel what are you doing in my bedroom, and two, is he giving your baby fucking formula instead of your milk without your consent. Like. They're constantly touching your kid and borderline kidnapping them and they're just like "oh my gosh look how flustered you are, what a good protective mom 🥰" meanwhile you're contemplating actual fucking murder
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sof1shticated · 3 months
Text
like in the hallmark movies [ls18]
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a/n: anyway this is tooth-rotting fluff, and i love it. lance just seems like the sweetie to do big little surprises you know. kinda based on the one time i watched a hallmark movie and recognized a cafe lmao. as usual let me know what you think!! Formula One Masterlist: HERE words: 1.3k warnings: she/her pronouns, holiday-themed, i had a little to much fun writing cheesy hallmark, literally nothing else it's so fluffy my teeth hurt
“Oh my god, this is it.”
“This is what?”
“It! The spot! The cafe!”
“I’m not following.”
“Oh, and it’s even snowing a bit! This is perfect, hold on!”
“What are you-?”
(Y/n) spun around from the entrance of the quite regular-looking cafe and quickly picked up her boyfriend Lance’s hands, holding them raised for emphasis and looking into his eyes. He raised a curious eyebrow, and his lips despite his best efforts began to form in a smile at her reaction. She sighed dramatically, beginning to shake her head as if he'd suddenly disappointed her.
“But I just don’t think we belong together. I think it would be hard and it would be impossible see eye to eye on things. You drive me crazy and I drive you nuts! I mean you’re a farmer! And I can’t live without the big city lights. They call to me! We…” She paused, released one of her hands from his and pointed between the two of them, “We would never work in a million years.” 
Lance tried to keep the smile from continuing to build on his face, but it was hard. (Y/n) was in the zone, however. She spoke a bit more quietly than the yelling character in the scene so as not to make a real scene on the streets of Montreal during her first real visit. 
While he opened his mouth to say something — as was his cue from what he could remember — she shook her head quickly and overdramatically putting her finger to his lips to keep him quiet. This motion was enough to make him laugh once, but her raised eyebrow made him try his best to put that straight face back on. He failed mostly, unable to resist her recreation, but it was clearly suitable because she continued.
“No. I wasn’t done yet,” She said firmly in character, “I don’t care. I would wait a million and one years for you. I would rearrange the stars. It’s not fair to ask you to move to the city, but I’m going to. I want to be with you. I think you’d love the city, and the city needs you, Malcolm. The city needs a guy like you to show us that we’re not meant to be so cold and distant. So mean and cruel to the world around us. It needs a little shop of fresh goods from your family’s farm. We’d be able to do both. I believe in us. I believe in Christmas miracles."
She'd finished strong, her own eyes sparkling with a child-like joy at what was happening. Still, his line hadn't come. 
"But if you don’t, I understand,” She shook her head again and looked down. She turned to go but still holding his hand until the last moment. 
This time Lance knew exactly what his cue was. 
Lance tightened the grip on her hand just as she was about to break contact and pulled her into him with a spin. (Y/n) let out a genuine squeal of surprise. Maybe she hadn’t quite thought Lance had been paying enough attention to this sacred movie to know the lines of the brooding farmer Malcolm and assumed her reenactment stopped with her character Brit’s lines.
The spin stopped, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her in closer, and they both crashed into each other. Lips coming together hard, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly and linked her hands together. Her left foot raised involuntarily. If this were the movie, the music would have swelled, the people around them would’ve clapped, and the two of them would have been left breathless.
When they broke a part, at least the last thing was true. 
“I would follow you anywhere," Lance said seriously. 
It was Malcolm’s line, but it was true for Lance too. He would follow (Y/n) anywhere she went so long as she would have him.
Snow had fallen into her eyelash, as if the movie script was coming to life still and before she could blink it away he blew gently on her eye to get rid of it. 
"How many times do you think a reenactment happens in front of this place?" She asked him with her cheeks flushed from the cold and something else, she couldn't keep her eyes off of him anymore. 
"Doesn't matter. They've never seen a show quite as good as that one," Lance replied with a smile. Not that anyone had been paying any attention to the show, except for maybe during that kiss. But they could've been the only people in Quebec during that. 
“You planned this didn’t you?” She asked in a slightly accusatory with her eyebrows raised.
“I recognized the cafe after the third rewatch, weirdly enough,” Lance shrugged as to be casual, but the smile on his face just from her reaction couldn’t be contained if he tried, “It’s nice when things are filmed in Montreal.”
She leaned up to kiss him again. This time sweeter than the last one. As Lance and (Y/n) not as Malcolm and Brit. 
She didn’t watch this Hallmark Christmas movie because she seriously enjoyed it. She enjoyed the drinking game of getting to make fun of it, sure, she enjoyed the laughs it provided at the ludicris of it all. But a secret part always liked it when the couple got together in the end. She’d probably seen it more times over 20 times, nearing 30 between all the people she'd wanted to show it to during the holiday season. 
Sometimes holiday traditions were holiday traditions, no matter how silly they were. She’d had exes in the past who made fun of her for this silly movie and had refused to watch it more than once. Lance had seen it himself at least four or five times since they'd been together. 
This though. This was more special than she could’ve imagined it. 
“You’re a good actor,” He complimented.
“I’ve practiced my lines a lot,” She joked, "But so are you, you really had me going thinking you didn't recongize this place."
“You were a bit too distracted to notice the smirk on my face I think," Lance said, "Besides Malcolm has what? Five words, and that's about a fifth of what he says in the whole movie.”
“Well, would a big farmer be able to get a word in with a chatty city girl?” 
“Can’t argue with that logic.” 
“Hallmark logic always wins.”
The two of them went to the cafe and ordered warm drinks to go. She paused just outside the entrance one more time to look at the sign. They hadn’t bothered to change it for such a low-budget movie. 
“This is an amazing surprise,” She beamed.
She kissed him one more time, and he happily obliged as they began to walk away. 
“Why don’t any of these movies revolve around Hanukkah?” Lance asked.
“I’m very positive we could find some to watch,” 
“We should make a Hallmark Hanukkah movie,” He said, a slight mischievous glint in his eye.
“Oh yeah?” She took a sip of her drink.
“Yeah, I think we’d be able to write a really good one,” Lance smiled widely. 
He took her hand again as they continued on the walk through the city. The snow still fell softly, making it the perfect scenery as they talked the whole way about their ideas for their very own Hallmark movie. The pair of them laughed loudly at just how ridiculous they could make it. 
They ultimately planned on watching her movie again when they got back home. 
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joelslegalwhre · 10 months
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Hey
This is my request
Yn is a driver of red bull and its the last race and max verstappen is her boyfriend ( max is not a driver ) and she wins her first worldchampionship with alot of fluff thanks
i love the idea! Be ready for a ton of fluff, i have no self control-
Sorry this took me so long… I had my final exams and was busy crying and being anxious, BUT I‘M DONE NOW whoo, your girl finally has her Abi now😭
pairing // max verstappen x driver!fem!reader
summary // You win your first world championship and Max had already planned everything out for when you get out of your car
warnings // max is not a driver, he‘s living the wag life lmao, just a shit ton of fluff and lovesick max, you‘re the first woman in f1 (did i miss something?)
word count // 2k
Masterlist // taglist // 🥤my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip🩷
World Champion
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Your car literally flew across the finish line as your team clung to the fence to the track, cheering.
You couldn't help but let out a cry of joy. You had done it, you had actually won the race.
That might not be unusual anymore, because winning races was almost a habit.
But today was different, the screams of the fans cheering you on from the stands echoed in your ears. You put your hand out of the cockpit and waved back at them, smiling and completely overwhelmed by the situation.
World champion. You were a world champion now.
The mere fact that you were the first and only woman in Formula One had made a lot of headlines. Right from the start, you felt much more pressure than the others seemed to. And you had shown all the reporters and all the doubters who had made so many comments, good or bad, how you were able to assert yourself in this male domain.
You parked your car according to the rules and not even a second later you were running towards the waiting crowd that was your team, jumping into their arms. The fence separating the people from the drivers was rocking dangerously as you jumped into their arms, almost knocking it over completely. But you were so full of joy that you hardly noticed. The love and joy your team gave you at that moment overwhelmed you. Everyone laughed, whistled and cheered, and you too had to squeal under your helmet. All of this was so absolutely unreal, it was as if you were about to wake up from a dream. A dream that was too good to be true.
But that's exactly what it was, true. This was really happening.
When your mechanics, the pit crew and whoever else was standing with them, put you back down on the ground, your eyes fell on Max. He was standing right up front, next to your mechanics, beaming at you.
As quickly as you could, you took off your helmet and your balaclava. Someone took the helmet and balaclava from your hands, much to your silent gratitude. Your feet carried you to your boyfriend in seconds.
"Congratulations, champion." He couldn't say much more before you wrapped your arms around his neck and silenced him with your lips.
You didn't care who was watching now, this moment belonged only to the two of you. Max gently parted from your lips and leaned his forehead against yours. "You can't imagine how proud I am of you." he whispered, his nose lightly brushing yours. "I love you." you whispered back.
"I love you more, champ." You giggled in response to the new nickname he seemed to have chosen for you now. You didn't mind, quite the opposite, it was a reminder of what had just happened. His breath brushed your lips as he let out a laugh. "I think you need to get back to your job now." Max grinned, still so close to your lips. You pouted and looked into his eyes, "Don't run away, okay?" you joked. "I'm not." He laughed back and gave you one last peck on the lips.
You turned around and thanked the person who had held your helmet for you.
Then you rushed to the other drivers and went through the whole procedure with the weighing and all the other usual steps. The drivers were congratulating you with hugs and brotherly pats on the back.
All the time the cheering of the fans and your team in the background.
The hymns were played and you still couldn't quite believe it. This wasn't just a normal race, it wasn't just the end of the season - which meant you finally had time to genuinely relax - no, it was the day you could talk about for decades to come, the day people would talk about for years and years. The day you made it.
Your anthem played, and as the rhythmic notes rang out, you had to hold back tears. It was emotional, to say the least. But the bright smile on your face outweighed the tears. And so you stood up there, along with Charles and Lewis, and let the sun, still pleasantly warm, brush your face. In your ears now the national anthem of your team.
After receiving numerous congratulations along the way, the garage was finally in sight. "Do you know where everyone is?" you asked your PR manager, who had accompanied you here from the podium, slightly confused. Nobody from the team was outside anymore, and you drew the conclusion that they all had to be in the garage. "They're already inside." she confirmed, grinning at you. Just as you had thought, then. You gave an understandable nod and circled the stack of tires stored diagonally in front of the garage.
Your mouth probably dropped to the floor when you saw your team, Christian and Max in front, together with Helmut, standing in front of you. You were quick to close your lips again, a wide smile dominating.
"What-" it was nothing more than a stutter, you were too overwhelmed with the situation.
"Congratulations!" everyone shouted at the same time, like a birthday surprise. That's when you noticed the shirts they were all wearing. Every member of the team was wearing the same one, and it showed you standing big in the middle, with the words "World Champion" at the top and the year at the bottom. It was one of the pictures from Spain earlier this year, when you had taken first place and had both hands in the air, clenched into fists, in victory.
"We have one for you, too." Christian grinned at you, and gave you an identical shirt to the one he was wearing.
"Thank you." your voice was barely above a whisper, the emotion too strong. Tears were collecting in your eyelashes, and it became hard to see.
You felt two strong arms close around your body, and in the next moment you were surrounded by Max's familiar scent. "Congratulations, baby." he whispered in your ear. He must have told you a dozen times since you left your car, but he just couldn't help himself. Your big dream has finally come true. All those days of hard training had paid off, and he couldn't be prouder of you.
You snuck your nose in the crook of his neck and pressed yourself closer to him once more, before braking away from the embrace.
"Thank you." you now said, addressing your team. "Thank you to each and every one of you. I know so many have said that before me, but it's true, I couldn't have done this without you guys today." you turned to your pit crew with a grin, "You guys have the absolute fastest reflexes I've ever seen. How do you do that?" The men laughed and tipped their imaginary hats, "Is and always will be an honor, Ms. World Champion." one of them joked, making you giggle.
When the hectic and excitement of the past few hours had passed, you could finally go back to your driver's room with Max to relax a little. Some privacy and quietness was something you were beyond grateful right now. All the fuss had worn you out and as much as you were filled with gratitude, your body also screamed at you to just lay down for a moment. After all, you just did a whole race in the heat of the bright midday sun. A cold shower was just about the best thing you could think of right now, but that had to wait for at least another two or three hours, maybe even more. 
"Ugh, that feels amazing." you moaned as you fell onto the small couch in your room. You let out an exhausted breath and let your head fall back to rest on it. "I bet it does." Max laughed and sat down beside you, grabbing your ankles to lift your legs onto his lap. He started to massage your feet, and you felt like you just got sent to literal heaven. "Please, never stop." you let out another groan, which made Max chuckle. "Your wish is my command." 
Your eyes wandered to his shirt, the same one you were still wearing. And after all the months of secret phone calls, always wondering what important things he had to do on these calls and why he left the room you were in when he did, it dawned on you, "Max," you asked, "Were you the one to get all these shirts?" 
He smiled at you, still massaging your feet, „I did. Couldn't let my girl win her first championship and stand there empty-handed." 
"Max," your voice cracked, "I- Thank you," you whispered, as you felt a single tear rolling down your cheek, "So much."
"Baby, don't cry." His thumb wiped the tear from your cheek, and you distinctly leaned into his touch. "Thank you so much." you whispered again. "You don't have to thank me for that, baby." a light smile played on his lips and he shifted slightly, bringing you to sit on his lap.
His hands caressed your thighs, and it sent a warm shiver through your body.
It felt good to rest in his arms and give your sore muscles a break.
You snuggled even closer to him. For a moment you just sat there, in his lap with his hands on your thighs and your arms around his middle. His hands ran up and down in a caressing and soothing gesture. The air in the room was pleasantly cool, thanks to the air conditioning.
Max's hands moved from your thighs to your back and gently moved up and down there too. He didn't push you to tell him everything that you were feeling right now, he just let you have your moment of silence. Later, when you would be back in your hotel room, there would be plenty of time to talk about everything that had happened.
"I love you." he whispered against your neck. You leaned back a little to look at him and smiled. "I love you too."
You cupped his face in your hands, the light stubble of his beard lightly scratching your skin and his scent enveloping you like a soft blanket.
You leaned forward and gently placed your lips on his. Max returned the kiss immediately and lightly nibbled your lower lip, which made you giggle and opened your lips a little. He took the opportunity to explore you with his tongue. The softness with which he kissed you elicited a sigh from you. It wasn’t a hectic or dirty kiss. Rather, it was full of love, affection and emotion. Max made you feel as if it was just the two of you and not a thousand other reporters, photographers and employees who were about to ask you a million questions. Which you were looking forward to, of course, but this moment was still too perfect to end.
Both of you separated your lips to catch your breath. Max immediately pulled your body close to his again and wrapped his arms around you.
"I think we need to get back out there," he whispered in your ear after a while. His breath tickled you a little and you giggled lightly. "Yeah, I think so."
You moved off his lap and ran a hand through your hair, which got a little tousled during your kiss. Max stood up and followed you to the door. "Off to battle." you quipped as you grabbed the handle. Max jokingly slapped your ass, and grinned, "Let's go, you world champion."
🩶taglist: @xcinnamongirl @topguncultleader @larastark3107 @sinfully-yoursss @alwaysclassyeagle @formulas-bitch @lunnnix @alexxavicry @love4lando @pjofics @Poppy4587 @cl16version @maximeverstappen @x-d1vine @ironmaiden1313
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only-angel-28 · 6 months
Text
mastermind, part six
this ones kinda long LMAO SORRY💀💀
anyways two updates in one day, active era fr
this ones the end of sixth year, next parts going to be the start of seventh year
and i thought of y/n's dress for the ball to be like rory's for her chilton dance in gilmore girls but i havent rlly added any description for it in here so feel free to imagine whatever!!
please lmk what you think and feel free to leave some requests on my page!!
warnings: angst, swearing
mastermind, masterlist
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The next few weeks leading up to the ball pass by in a blur and it all starts off with me breaking the news to Harry, Ron and Hermione.
“Hey guys,” I say putting my bag down the next day with a brighter smile than usual on my face.
“Hello? What’s got you all giggly?” Harry questions, giving Ron his charms homework to copy frantically before we have to go to the lesson after breakfast.
“Oh, nothing…” I say with a grin, looking over at the Slytherin table only to find Theo already looking at me with a smile, making blood rush up to my cheeks and ears.
Hermione raises her eyebrows at me in question and follows my eyes to the table finding Theo just before he turns away to his friends.
“Y/n?” Hermione says warningly, breaking me into telling them everything.
“Okay fine! Ah, you won’t believe this! You know Theodore?” I squeal.
Harry raises his eyebrows as Ron snaps up from his homework, staring at me, “Who? Nott?”
“Yes,” I reply with my smile getting bigger and bigger as Hermione shakes me by the arm, squealing and giggling. Of course, she’d know, she helped him plan it.
“He asked me to the ball!”
Harry’s frown quickly turns into a huge grin as he looks back at Theo and gives him a thumbs up which Theo returns with an upwards nod and grin.
“And what did you say?” Ron asks, deathly calm.
“I said yes.”
“What?! Why would you do that?” He all but shouts.
“Ron! He’s nice, I want to go with him.”
“How can he be nice he’s a Slytherin.” he sneers.
“Ronald! Why can’t you just be happy for them? At least Nott’s got the courage to ask a girl out.” Hermione says, clearly upset as we both stand up and I stick my tongue out at him, walking out the hall with Hermione as Harry shakes his head disappointedly at Ron.
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A few days after there’s a quidditch match and Theo invites me to come watch him play.
“You should come to the match tomorrow.” He whispers as Slughorn drones on about the origin of Amortentia.
“Which? Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” I whisper back toying with my quill.
“Mhm.”
“Why?” I whisper with a smug smile to which Theo replies with a knowing look.
“You know why.”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
He sighs before surrendering, “Fine. I’d like it if you were there. Happy now?” “Very,” I say with a smile, gathering my things and standing up as Slughorn dismisses our class.
The match goes well with Slytherin winning and Theo flying down to meet me a few times. He’d hover down and give me a smile or point at me after scoring a quaffle.
“Is that Theo’s?” Hermione asks with a smile, pointing to my scarf.
“What? Oh yeah, it is.” I say with a huge smile seeing the scarf he’d given me that night, engraved in silver with his initials.
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We’d started studying together too. Almost every night, we’d meet up at the library with hot chocolate and a stack of old books, simply sitting together and reading or helping one another with formulas or spells.
“What did you get for number 12?” Theo asks, the smell of his cologne floods my nose as he leans over, his soft hair gently brushing the side of my jaw.
“I got uhm…I got impedimenta” I slightly stuttered, clearly flustered as Theo looked up at me with a smug grin.
“Oh shut up you prick.” I say, shoving him into the large stack of books next to him, making them tip over and him getting a hard stare from the librarian as I silently laugh at him.
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“Hey, have you read this one?” Theo asks, holding a red book up to me with gold lettering on the cover.
The bookshop we’re in is unusually empty compared to the ones I usually go to, this one being Theo’s pick for our trip to Hogsmeade. It seems that there was a part of Hogsmeade that I hadn’t explored yet. Or many other people for that matter.
“Oh yeah, I have, it's so good, the plot twist goes mad.” I say excitedly as Theo raises an eyebrow and puts it in his basket, slowly filling up with books.
The snowstorm outside rages on as I scan the shop from one end to the other for the perfect book to read next (ignoring the reminder in the back of my head that I’ve already got a shelf full of unread books at home).
I pick up a blue book titled, “Edera” and open it up, the story inside intriguing me more than I thought it would. I tear myself away from the book, convincing myself I’d enjoy it more some other time when I’m warmer and decide to check my purse for the change for it instead.
Fuck. I left my wallet in my dorm.
I put the book back where I found it, kicking myself for forgetting my wallet in the rush of getting out early enough and going to where Theo was.
“Hey, ready to go?”
“Yeah almost I just need to pay, you go ahead to the cafe I’ll meet you there.” He says, taking his money out of his coat pocket, approaching the counter.
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When Christmas Day morning came, the entire day leading up to the ball had passed by in a blur. Presents were given, food was eaten and Hermione and I had gotten into a massive snowball fight with Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins. The girls had teamed up against the boys and crushed them in the snow frenzy.
At five o’clock, Hermione, Ginny and I left to go get ready for the event.
The girls got ready in my room, Ginny being in charge of makeup, Hermione in charge of hair and Y/N in charge of the dresses and accessories.
“You know,” I say clasping a diamond necklace on Hermione’s neck, “even though you’re not going with Ron you can still dance with him.”
“That is if he’s not busy with his Lav Lav.” Hermione replies, mocking Ron’s nickname for Lavender Brown.
“Please, once he sees you, he’ll forget all about her,” Ginny speaks up from her place above me, putting a small silver star clip at the side of my hair.
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I hastily leave the common room and walk up the stairs leading to the entrance hall, Hermione and Ginny had left a few minutes before me as I had misplaced my shoes.
I stop at the top of the staircase, looking around for my friends.
Ginny had spotted me first, she was talking with Fred and Harry, both of whom were with their dates. Ginny saw me before I saw her and shouted my name waving to get my attention.
Theo turned around first, his mouth dropped as he saw me(, in his opinion, Y/N had never looked more beautiful).
He walked over to meet me at the end of the stairs and said, “You…wow…You look stunning. I like the star.” he adds on, smiling.
“Thank you Theo, you look amazing.” I smile brightly up at him.
We meet up with everyone else, me giving a consoling smile to Ron who admittedly didn’t look half bad in his robes and Harry who looked amazing in his. We all complement one another and walk in together, arms linked with each of our dates.
Instead of the long house tables that were usually in the hall, there were about a hundred smaller ones set for a dozen people, littered all around the space. We all went around and moved to one of the smaller tables. The dining hall was adorned with a massive Christmas tree, ornamented with white and blue baubles, the walls of the hall were covered in sparkling silver frost and hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy hung under the starry ceiling.
The white plates in front of us were empty, except for a single menu resting on each one.
“What are we supposed to do, starve?” Ron exclaimed as Hermione rolled her eyes at him and said the name of whatever she wanted off the menu and it appeared on her plate.
“Oh, I get it now. Thanks, Mione.” Ron smiles up at her, which she ignores. The rest of us filled in pursuit, eating anything we wished while making jokes with one another.
When all the food had been eaten, Dumbledore stood up from his space on the main table and asked everyone to do the same, he then waved his wand and the tables all zoomed to the walls, leaving the floor clear. He then conjured a raised platform complete with guitars, a lute, a cello and bagpipes.
The Weird Sisters walked up to the stage, exciting a sea of applause, they picked up their instruments to play.
“May I have this dance?” I look to the side of me to see Theo half bent over with one hand at his back and the other extended out for me to take it. I giggle at his crooked smile and take his hand, nodding as he pulls me close to him, swaying gently to the slow song.
“Are you enjoying tonight?” Theo asks softly, looking down at me.
“Mhm, I’m having a wonderful time.” I say grinning up at him as he smiles contentedly and says, “Good.”
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We dance and joke the night away together, completely losing track of time until the ball’s long gone along with everyone else and Theo and I are the only people left in the dimmed hall, laughing at each other's jokes.
“And then he goes, ‘My father will hear about this!’ before she wacks him in the face!” Theo lets out in between laughs, sending me creasing over.
He calms down before I do and looks over at me, fiddling with my shoes in his hands that I’d swapped with his long ago. “I’m so sorry Theo I’m never wearing heels again, I swear.” I had said, to which he replied, “Don’t worry love, I’d swap my shoes with you any day.” leaving me a flustered mess.
“You’re so pretty.” He says simply, smiling at me softly.
I don’t say anything in return but smile and take his hand leading him to the nearest mistletoe, his eyes never leaving me.
“Look up,” I whisper.
He looks up in realisation and down again, eyes darting between my lips and eyes.
He slowly leans in, his cologne swarming around me and butterflies erupting in my tummy as I stand on my tiptoes to meet his lips. His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me close as mine go to the hair in the back of his neck and his bicep, holding each tightly in anticipation.
He lets out a soft groan and I can feel his minty breath on my face but before we can touch we’re broken apart by a shout outside.
“Theodore!” the panicked voice gets closer and closer as we break away and reach for our wands.
Draco appears in the doorway, looking dishevelled with his white shirt slightly unbuttoned and the cuffs rolled up. His usually tidy hair is messy and a look of fear and alarm in his eyes, spreading and overtaking the confusion in Theo’s.
The quiet, calm ambience in the room immediately leaves as Draco stands at the doorway nodding his head silently at Theo.
“No,” Theo whispers softly, his hold on my hand becoming tighter as he leads me behind him in protection.
“Theo, what’s going on?” I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I thought it would.
When I don’t get a reply from him I ask the same question to Draco, my voice slightly louder now, laced with panic as I look between the two boys.
“We have to go Theodore. Now.” Draco says before he runs out of sight, leaving Theo and me alone again.
“Theo, can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?” I ask a final time, almost fearing his answer.
“Y/n you need to listen to me very… very carefully.” He says, his voice breaking mid-sentence and his bottom lip quivering.
“Theo…” I hold his hand and he holds mine back tighter.
“It…I…it wasn’t supposed- to be this way I-” He breaks in his words as he holds onto my hands for dear life, tears gathering up in his eyes, threatening to spill out at any second. He takes a deep breath before slowly pulling the robes that were covering his left arm up.
Black ink, seared into his soft skin showing a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.
The defaced skin around the mark was red hot, clearly irritated and inflicting pain on him.
My stomach dropped, as did my hands from his and his eyebrows furrowed slightly at my flinching away from him. I looked up at him and saw pure pain written all over his face.
“How long Theo?” My voice comes out quiet and broken as tears glass over my eyes.
“Five months.” He whispers.
His reply feels like a punch to the gut, replacing all my feelings of sadness with betrayal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?! You prick! You could’ve told me and I’d fix it, I’d help you fix it Theo, why didn’t you tell me?!” I shout up at him, my fists hitting his strong chest repeatedly as he simply stands there in surrender until my arms and emotions give out and I sob into his chest.
“You can’t.” He says softly, holding me closer as we cry into each other's arms.
He pulls away slightly, still keeping his close hold on me and saying, “Please, please, go to your dorm, lock the door and stay there all night. Please don’t go out for any reason love please just stay there, stay safe, I am begging you.”
“What? Theo, why? No, no I’m- I’m coming with you.”
“No love you can’t. You don’t get it I have to do this, I have to leave.”
“Theo stop, you don’t have to leave, we can go to Dumbledore, we can explain everything, he’ll fix it I know he will.”
“No I…I can’t do this, I'm sorry,” he says with furrowed brows, walking away from me as I walk after him.
“Theo no…please! Theo stop it please, come back.” I say after him, all but begging him to stay.
“This was a mistake,” he says, turning around with a hard look on his face.
“What?” I whisper, feeling like a knife has been pushed through my chest, impaling my heart.
“You heard me.” he nods to himself, hands shaking but keeping the poker face on.
Pain, betrayal, hurt and anger rush through me, chilling me to the bone as my face hardens and tears stop.
“You’re an asshole, Theodore Nott! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” is the last thing I say to Theo before he leaves and with that I’m left alone sobbing on the floor in my gown.
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“Y/n!” Hermione shouts my name as I enter the dorm with puffy eyes.
I look up to find almost everyone from our year sitting around somewhere in the common room, some in gowns and robes and others in pyjamas, nonetheless all holding each other as they cry together.
“Hermione…what’s going on?”
“Dumbledore’s dead,” she answers in a broken whisper, “and Malfoy and Nott are gone.” My stomach drops as my brain goes straight to Draco and Theo. They never deserved this, they’re only kids. We all sit around crying and consoling one another before early morning comes and we go to our dorms.
As I enter my room something on the bed catches my eye, making what’s left of my heart drop to my stomach and tears rush to my eyes once again.
The blue book.
Theo.
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sixth year done!!
lmk what you think please it helps loads<33
taglist:
@harrysnovia @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere @lilianelena39
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bharlesbeclerc · 5 months
Text
logical ⚘ msc47
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warnings: swearing, angst, maybe a bit of ooc!mick lol i’m projecting, insecure reader (is y/n the problem!), allusions to his girlfriend (omg i’m sorry it’s nothing specific i promise), right person wrong time, unhappy ending, not proofread, crash mention
pairing: mick schumacher x fem!reader
word count: 2.2k
summary: mick was nice. he was sweet, and loving, and sensible — that was how everyone knew him, that was how you knew him. so, god, how can something so good feel so wrong?
author’s note: is this my sad little return to writing lmao. i have a few things to say about this one like i know its bad okay. i recently read a snipped of maria sharapova’s autobiography of how she broke up with grigor and that’s what mostly inspired this.
OKAY AND regarding the mentions of his gf it’s like not really true to life like ik she was there in monaco’22 watching from the grandstands or something but i switched it up for the plot. i don’t usually like referencing irl relationships in my fics but this was essential to my vision hksfkjfk. And lastly idek if this is related to the song inspo anymore like this just blew up out of control
anywaY i’m so sorry to have been mia for so long. hope you guys like this <3 on hindsight (and rereading) this is literally so bad and makes no sense kjdhfkjs i am sorry once again
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Come for me like a savior, and I’d put myself through hell for you. 
Monaco, 2022. 
The first few months into your relationship just so happened to coincide with one of the biggest events on the Formula One calendar. You counted down the days to the weekend, crossed them out on your calendar. Each tally twisted the coil in your stomach even tighter. 
It filled you with dread, the thought of walking through the paddock. You’ve avoided it so far, and Mick was more than happy to take things slow. He knew that the media was an insatiable vulture and any look into his personal life was a carcass on the side of the road. So he tried his best: he’d send flowers to your doorstep, offer to fly you out to the races just in case you’d changed your mind. He was attentive, and kind, and everything you could have ever asked for. 
Which was why you knew you needed to do this. For him, at least. 
You told Mick you wanted to come, and your heart swelled at the look of relief on his face. You finished your assignments early. You packed your bags. You got on the flight and braced yourself for the weekend. 
But you weren’t ready, not really, and all the dread and anxiety threatened to spill out of you as you ran your fingers across the length of the lanyard. Bright red lettering read Haas F1 Team, decorating the white chord. The attached access pass had your name on it. 
(Y/N) (Y/L/N), it told you like a verdict. Guest of Mick Schumacher
You weren’t ready. And Mick knew. 
Sweet, sensible, angel Mick told you it was fine. That all he needed was for you to be comfortable, that you being there was enough. 
“It’s okay, (Y/N). There’s always next time. When you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
It killed you, watching him on the hotel’s television when you could have been there in his garage. It killed you, seeing his name fifteenth on the timesheet in qualifying. It killed you because you knew you should be doing more; you should have been there. But you just couldn’t. 
Monaco was small; it was impossible to hide. Just outside, the rumbling of engines and bodywork ripping through the air was like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It resonated in your bones but did little to quell the guilt in your heart. A storm was brewing in the sky overhead, casting ominous shadows over the track down below. You shut the door to the balcony. 
Lap twenty-six happened like a nightmare. The camera barely caught it, the little slip that sent your boyfriend into the barrier. Two seconds felt like a lifetime as you waited for the box on the screen to read out his radio message. Ten centimeters was all it took. His car was split in half, and so were you, really, as you sat there with your vision blurred. 
But the time passed anyway, and he was okay. You watched him climb out of the car. You held your breath as he climbed into the back of the recovery vehicle. Your fingers twitched around the lanyard still in your grip. You remembered how, weeks prior, you told yourself that Jeddah would be the worst and that it was over. 
This was hell.
Hear all the rumors lately that you always denied. 
Months passed. You showed up to races. The coil in your stomach unraveled. You did more. 
And, most importantly, you were happy. Both of you were. 
The first half of the season blended into an antagonizing conversation over Mick’s future, fuelled by the weekends ending in your heartbreak. Instagram posts of the crashes flooded your feed; recommended video essays on YouTube debated his contract. You had gotten pretty good at ignoring them. 
That was, until you came across a short video. 
It was two seconds long, hazed and pixelated. An impression of sorts, really. But it was undeniable: the essence of your boyfriend crossing into the garage during the red flag in Monaco. His engineers had crowded around him, concealing him from your prying eyes, but not before you caught him fleetingly wrapping his arms around a woman. 
The video replayed itself in your phone and in your head. It became something close to an obsession, those two seconds. An itch that needed to be scratched. Soon enough, you found out who it was. A model, blonde — beautiful. 
Scattered fan accounts and gossip blogs speculated with you, feeding your fixation. She was someone from Denmark, someone ‘Followed by mickschumacher’. 
Someone who was there when you weren’t. 
You were sitting with Mick over dinner when you brought it up. 
“Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you something. And it’s stupid to bring it up, you know, but….”
Your boyfriend flashed you a look, his dimpled confusion enough to make you shrink further into yourself. 
“What is it, schatz? Is something wrong?”
“No,” You lied, poking leaves of lettuce around with your fork. “I just saw something online. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. A video.”
There was a silence as Mick waited for you to continue, but you didn’t. Instead, you pulled out your phone and started the two seconds. You acted like you hadn’t committed it to memory, like you couldn’t see you chew your lip in the reflection of your phone. 
“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen this.”
Your heart stopped. “You have?”
“Yeah,” Mick passed the phone back to you. In a beat, he had his fork in his hand and was ready to have the conversation to be over. “I mean, I was there. You know, in the video?”
It was meant to be a joke, but it felt like a confirmation. You stayed quiet. 
Your boyfriend sensed your discomfort, setting his fork back down. Your hand took its place in his. 
“She’s just a friend, (Y/N). Believe me.” Mick said. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. As soon as the video came out.”
You only nodded. “Okay. It’s okay, Mick, I’m sorry. I… well, I’d love to meet her. I’m glad she was there, at least. She seems nice. Do you still talk to her?”
“No, not really. But if there’s a chance, I’ll introduce you two….”
That night, your boyfriend breathed steadily beside you in bed. The bedside clock told you it was two in the morning. 
You cursed your rotten mind as you replayed the video in your head. Before you knew it, you’d opened her profile on Instagram, your brightness set to its lowest. Below her name and biography, little subtitles informed you of your mutual friends, the list one name shorter than it was yesterday. 
‘Cause loving you is loving every argument you held over my head, brought up the girls you could have instead.
This became a tired topic between you two. It took over you, this obsession and self-doubt, so much so that you began falling behind in your classes. Your assignments began showing up late, your applications to post-graduate institutions barely making their deadlines.
You hated the fact that you let this take over your life; the fact that you let yourself ruin this beautiful thing you’ve made for yourself. You hated that your eyes would dart to his phone when it lit up with a notification, and you hated that you noticed how he faced his phone away from you when he was on it. 
You hated that you forgot the last time you didn’t once think about it. The worst part was Mick could tell. 
Winter break had finally come, an end to the arduous year your boyfriend had endured. Contract talks fell through; new opportunities had opened up in its place. The two of you were seated in his rented apartment near Brackley, curled up on his couch in a place that didn’t quite feel like home. In front of you, a fire crackled away, filling the intimate space with warmth. 
Since you began attending races, you had to think of a way to distract yourself from all the noise that came with it. Mick had suggested photography. Eventually, this evolved into scrapbooking, which was how you found yourselves with a journal open on your laps. 
Snapshots of tire stacks, packed grandstands, and bustling mechanics filled each page. Your handwriting, neat and tidy, labeled each event with their location and date. The two of you looked back on the year in contemplative silence, weighing each image with the memory attached to them. 
Mick flipped the page. There was a photo you’ve never seen before. 
“Do you remember this?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. 
You shook your head, inspecting the image. It was of you. Amidst the small crowd of invited guests and engineers, you were standing in the back of the Haas garage. Your expression was frozen in the middle of a laugh, or a shout of joy — Corinna had her arms thrown around you as your eyes were trained on the screen in front of you. 
This was from Silverstone. Mick had just scored his first points.
“I took a screenshot from the livestream after it was over. You looked beautiful,” Mick explained. You turned to him, catching his stare, and you swore you saw something else in his cerulean eyes. “Seeing you with my mum, you know, after those first few races. It means everything to me.”
You didn’t know what to say. Of course you remembered — this was from Silverstone. Mick had just scored his first points, and it was your second race that you had attended. The shoving of the crowds was the worst that you had experienced, the cameras in your face even more so. You remembered the sinking feeling in your chest with every second you spent in the paddock, but you had to tell yourself it was worth it. 
It was hot, that was for sure. You could practically still feel how your hair had stuck to your skin, your sweat acting as an insufferable glue. Everything around you seemed to overstimulate you in the worst way possible, and you knew that you had to work your hardest to push your rotten thoughts far away from this beautiful moment. I can’t be here, you remembered thinking to yourself. This is too much. 
You loved Mick. You really did. But looking back at that memory… it gave you the confirmation that you’d been denying for so long. You weren’t made for this. What meant everything to him only happened because you gave yourself up in the process.
Once the silence got too much, Mick knew what was coming. He was used this; used to watching you torture yourself. Before you could open your mouth to speak, he stopped you. 
“(Y/N), don’t. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” You were caught. 
“This!” Mick gestured to you, the photo journal discarded on the coffee table. He took a deep breath. “Why can’t you just be… I don’t know….”
“Why can’t I just be what, Mick?” 
Your words were thick with venom. You knew the answer, you’ve known the answer for a while now, but you wanted him to say it. 
But he couldn’t. 
Words began to tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them. You felt childish, juvenile — putting them in his mouth that you knew he wanted to say. But you simply couldn’t stop. “Why can’t I be like your friend? Why can’t I just show up to races, no problem?”
“Oh, here we go….”
“No, tell me, Mick! Please.”
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” Your boyfriend’s voice was steady; infuriating. “I’m not going to keep reassuring you over things that you blow up in your head. I’m trying to be there for you, (Y/N), I am. But this is just insane.”
The word hung in the air between the two of you. You watched as Mick’s expression had darkened into one you couldn’t recognize. Finally, you could put your finger on what tainted his blue stare. It was resignation. 
“(Y/N), how many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing going on between me and her? How much longer do you need me to tell you that things aren’t your fault? I know this is hard for you. But I need you in my corner, and it’s like it’s me against you these days-”
“This isn’t about her. And I’m trying, Mick, I am. It’s just… it’s just too much-”
“It’s too much because of you!” Mick’s voice was like a knife in your back. “You make things too much.”
You hadn’t realized that the two of you were standing now, glaring with storms in both your eyes. The fire crackled below you, and in the gaps of the silence you swore you could hear the rumble of an engine. 
After a beat, your boyfriend said, softer, “God, (Y/N). I mean, scheiße. There are so many other people who could be in my garage, every weekend. All these brand partners, all these guests. They are in my garage. But the only one that matters to me is you. Don’t you see?”
You stop. You breathe. 
And you know you can’t.
I know I’m half responsible and that makes me feel horrible. 
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author's note (again) not sure if anyone reads the post-fic a/n but here's my little go at it ... honestly ever since may i've not had much motivation writing and even less interest in f1 (a result of my fav driver not getting a seat, my fav team flopping, and the most boring season in history)
i don't expect to be posting so often anymore. and, if ever, it would barely be related to f1. i've been watching a lot of tennis (especially atp) and i've been wondering if there's an audience for tennis fics idk!!! like i barely see any x reader fics in my players' tags so GAH still pondering. anyway i'd like to thank everyone for reading if you have, it means so much to me always <3 til next time! xoxo, elles
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communistkenobi · 7 months
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what are some of your favorite nonfiction podcasts?
the big one I recommend is just king things - two marxist academics go through the books of Stephen King in publication order. extremely funny and insightful podcast, very accessible (like this is not a theory podcast or anything, it’s very laid back and casual), and I really appreciate their approach to literary criticism.
game studies study buddies is by the same hosts as just king things but this is a theory podcast. Each episode they go over and discuss a book from the field of game studies (ie the academic study of games). I very much recommend you listen to this if you want to like passively absorb critical/leftist theory. The hosts are academics, one of which teaches about games regularly as a professor, so it kind of feels like someone is teaching you about a text. I find it fairly accessible, I learn a lot about games, and as I said they very frequently structure their discussions with left wing theory. I find them very insightful!
blowback is very good, it’s about the imperial history of the United States. a history/journalist type podcast. this can get extremely heavy and difficult to listen to given the subject matter so I would not binge this (I usually listen to it when I’m doing a physical activity) but it’s a really good source of historical information and has helped me develop my political understanding of modern western imperial history. each season covers a different event: S1 is the invasion of Iraq, S2 is the Cuban Revolution, S3 is the Korean War, S4 is the invasion of Afghanistan
ALAB (all lawyers are bad) is good with some caveats. It’s a podcast by a bunch of lawyers who spend a lot of time on twitter discussing how horrible lawyers are, usually either focusing on specific high-profile lawyers (Kavanaugh, Dershowitz), specific american legal regimes (anti-BDS legislation, sanction law, etc), or specific trends in the legal system that causes structural problems (eg lifetime judgeship appointments with no mandatory retirement age). They also sometimes do random funny lawsuits or cover legal responses to events like Jan 6th. A mixed bag in terms of focus but mostly it’s hating on American law and the legal system. This is a critical recommendation because it’s a bunch of lawyers dudes riffing and some of their analysis can be stupid/bad, they say stupid shit that comes off as “anti identity politics” at times, etc. I’m pulling from memory because it’s been a while since I listened to them so I’m sorry if this is overly vague/general. The best way to describe it is chapo-adjacent if that means anything to you lol
and finally the podcast knowledge fight. this is a podcast dedicated to covering and debunking Alex Jones. in all honesty I don’t find this podcast super valuable in terms of analysis, like they are only really focused on debunking the claims Jones makes and explaining why they’re factually wrong. Which like that’s a good thing to do, I’m not saying its bad, but I don’t really need to be convinced Jones is lying about everything lol so I don’t personally find it super useful/insightful. If you have to interact with Alex Jones fans regularly (like family members) then maybe that will be more valuable for you! Totally depends. however the reason I bring them up is because I DO recommend the series of episodes they have titled formulaic objections - in this series they go through all the deposition material from the sandy hook lawsuit against Alex Jones (the one that cost him a billion dollars in damages and court sanctions lol). They play clips of the depositions throughout these episodes, which are so fucking insane to listen to. Like listening to a bunch of employees of an insane fringe right wing media organisation being questioned by lawyers for hours on end is so entertaining lmao. This lawsuit is about the sandy hook school shooting so a warning about the subject matter, it can get dark at times, but on the whole it’s extremely fucking funny to listen to. And the hosts provide a lot of context for what’s going on in the lawsuit, talk about it, and also they debunk the shit Jones lies about in court that you may not know about, so I find that part of it really good.
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Text
Summer Lovin’
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Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader 
Warnings: friends to lovers, a bit of tension and awkwardness, seb being number one bestie as always, alcohol and the consumption of, lance being a big softie, reader has an epiphany, some hints to smut, all around summer time fluff
Word Count: 4.8k
Author’s Note: I am back with another lance fic and yet again, it takes place between the Canadian GP and Silverstone lmao // idk what this is really, just go with it lmao 
------
Being the younger sibling had its benefits. You and Lance were able to live your own lives away from the pressure of being the older ones. Your sister, Annie was best friends with Chloe, Lance’s older sister; much like your mothers who were friends as well. 
You and Lance weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances who spend a lot of time together because your sisters and your mothers were friends. You two ended up spending a lot of time together not by choice, but by force. 
Not that you minded, Lance was entertaining enough. 
He also had the same mindset as you did. 
As much as your older sisters love to live off mom and dad's money, jet setting around the world when things got boring, neither you nor Lance were into that sort of thing. There was no denying that growing up with money did help shape you both into who you were, it was abundantly clear that you had been privileged enough to live a good life. 
Lance’s father helped to fund his karting career which led to Formula One. 
Your parents gave you enough to get your program up and running; a charity which built learning centres for unfunded communities as well as a scholarship fund attached to the charity. 
As much as you liked the security of having your parents there, you were both in your 20s now, it was time to branch out and away from your families and their money.
Everyone was in Montreal this weekend for the Canadian Grand Prix, today was qualifying. The two families, yours and the Strolls’ were in the Aston Martin garage. 
You had joined your sister enough times to know how things worked. While Annie and Chloe spent time lunching and catching up, you were in the garage getting to understand how things worked and why they did what they did. 
“There she is!” His voice echoed across the garage. You turn to see who it was, even though you were already 100% sure who it was before turning. 
“Sebastian!” You smiled, walking over to his side of the garage to give him a hug. “Are you excited ?” You ask him, watching as the mechanics hooked something up to the car. 
“Business as usual,” he tells you with a smile. “I like your shirt,” he teased, knowing he could always find you in the same one. A green Aston Martin shirt hung off your body, Vettel between your shoulders on the back with a 5 in the middle. 
“You know you’re my favourite.” You smiled.  
“Not Lance?” Seb nudged you to look at the man staring at you two. “Please, he knows who I’m really here for.” You say, making Seb laugh. 
Seb’s hand rests on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Go on before he gets jealous,” he smiles. 
“Yeah, okay.” You start walking back over to Lance’s side. “Good luck!” You call back to the German who flashes you a smile. 
You find your way to a seat by the back corner of the garage, Lance comes over and drops his gloves on your lap. “Hello to you too,” you glance up at the man. 
“What were you and Seb laughing about ?” He asks you, tucking his fireproof top into his race suit. 
Your brows furrow, crossing one leg over the other. “Wouldn't you like to know?” 
“I would, that’s exactly why I’m asking, y/n.” “Okay shut up smartass.” 
Lance was going through his last minute checklist, trying to make sure everything was in check with the car and his engineers. “Are you going with your sister ?” You ask him. 
“Where?” He looks over at you, plugging the wires together before pulling the race suit up. 
You get up, fixing his collar for him. “London, they’re going during the break you have this week. They said they wanna spend some time there before Silverstone.” 
He shrugs, “are you going ?” 
“I don’t know.” 
“I’m not,” he tells you, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Honestly, I want some time away. I rented a place on the lakes. I'm gonna head up on Monday.” 
“That sounds nice,” you smile, tugging on the zipper of his race suit and letting it come up before fixing the strap on the top. 
Lance smiles, nodding. “You’re welcome to join me if you want.” 
“I couldn't impose on you like that. Plus I’m sure your friends wouldn’t want me going.” You turn to get his gloves off the chair behind you. 
“Actually, it’s just me. I could use the company.”  
You hand the gloves over to him, “okay. Sure, if you want me too.” 
“I do,” he smiles, taking the gloves from you. “I’ll talk to you after though, I've gotta go.” He nods towards the car. 
“Yeah, duh.” You give him a shove, laughing. 
Some time away at a cottage sounded like a dream. 
As much as you loved travelling the world, you weren't exactly one for the fancy dinners, expensive clothes or lavish nightclubs. Sometimes a week at home, in your sweats while eating bbq and having a beer was better. 
---- 
Race day has come and gone, it was now Monday morning and Lance was in your driveway, waiting for you to come out. You were lugging a bag over your shoulder and there’s a puppy on a leash behind you. 
“Hi Milly!” Lance instantly bends down to pat the puppy’s side. 
You knew how much Lance loved your dog, Amelia; he had been the one that convinced you to get a puppy and took you to adopt her. 
Amelia was taken up with Lance, nuzzled into his hand as he rubbed along her brown fur. You toss your bag in the trunk, and go to get Milly’s leash to take her back inside. 
“She’s not coming with us ?” Lance asks, glancing at you. 
“No. I figured I'd leave her with my parents.” 
“No you can’t do that,” he tells you, his hands resting on her face. “Look at this face, y/n.” He lifts Amelia up, “she’s too cute, she has to come with us.”
You sigh, “fine, but you can take her out in the middle of the night when she needs to use the bathroom.” 
“Fine,” he smiles, kissing the top of the puppy’s head before walking around to get in the car. He hands Amelia over to you when you get in the car. 
The drive from Montreal to Kawartha was about five and a half hours. Lance refused to let you drive but also told you not to backseat drive. You then reminded him that you can’t backseat drive if you’re next to him. It was about an hour more before you two got there and you changed the route in the GPS to Walmart. 
Lance was more than confused when you two pulled into the store parking lot. “What are we doing here?” He pulls into a parking spot. 
“Did you pack anything? Food? Water?” 
Lance’s mouth forms an O, “I hadn’t thought about that.” 
“Exactly mr. rich boy, let’s go.” You get out after setting Amelia on the backseat.  Lance left the windows rolled down enough for her to get air but not enough for her to jump out of the car. 
Lance pulls a shopping cart from the row of them outside. “I can’t remember the last time I came to Walmart..” he pauses, “I don't think I've actually ever been to Walmart.” 
“What?” You look over at him, shocked. “How have you not been to Walmart? I love this place.” 
“You have all the money in the world at your disposal and Walmart is your favourite place?” He looks over at you and you nod, happily. 
You pull him along with you to find what you need. Before you realize, the cart is full; water, bread, cereal, milk, hot dogs, chicken, any condiment you could think of, milk, some veggies, pasta, sauce, graham crackers and chocolate to make s'mores and some candles just in case. You two were wandering the store right now, walking through the aisles as you looked for nothing in particular. 
There’s a box on the shelf that catches your eyes, “Lance!” You call, the man stopping and turning around to face you. “Look!” You show him the box in your hands, little ducky water wings. 
“What are we gonna do with that?” 
“Not for us,” you shake your head, showing him the puppy on the box. “For Milly!” 
“Doesn’t Milly know how to swim?” “Yeah but she's just a baby, plus how frickin’ cute would she look?” You smile at him and Lance can’t say no to you for some reason, taking it from you and chucking it into the cart. 
You were walking through the other aisle; board games. “We should get one,” you tell him, looking through the selection on the left. Lance hums, taking the right side. 
“What about this?” He calls and you turn, a black box in his hand. Truth and Dare, shot edition. 
“Perfect.” 
The bill was less than you expected considering you felt like you bought the whole store. You two dropped the bags off at the car, checking on Amelia before heading over the LCBO across the parking lot. 
If you were going to play truth or dare - shot edition, you were gonna need shots. Lance wandered through the aisles, you pushed the shopping cart this time. There’s a case of Corona in the cart already but you were looking for something you could do shots with. 
“How about Hennessy ?” You picked up the bottle. Lance shrugs, “that burns.” 
“As does all liquor, Lance.” You roll your eyes, setting the bottle in the cart. 
Lance waves you off, walking to the other aisle. “I found it,” he calls and you round the corner to find him. A bottle of Clase Azul tequila in his hand. 
“That’s $305. There’s no way I’m letting you buy a bottle of tequila for that much.” 
“I have the cash,” he tells you, taking his wallet out of his pocket. “It’s not about the money, Lance.” You take the wallet from him and stuff it in your sweater pocket. “It’s illogical. Who spends $300 on tequila ?” 
Lance rolls his eyes, setting the bottle back on the shelf. “Fine, what should we get?” 
“Here,” you hand him a bottle of Casamigos. “Still tequila, way cheaper.” 
“It’s $80!” “Better than $300!” 
He gives in, setting the bottle in the cart as you push it to the cash register. Lance covered the liquor store bill because you paid at Walmart. The rest of the drive was fine, Lance drove again and Milly had jumped back onto your lap. 
You still weren't sure why Lance chose to take his Aston Martin through cottage country but he was driving so who were you to complain ? 
The cottage was fairly normal and fit in with the surrounding houses. It was two stories, a backyard with a fire pit and a dock that led onto the waters. 
That afternoon, you two spent unpacking your stuff and hanging out. There wasn’t a big dinner, you just tossed a frozen pizza in the oven. 
The next 3 days were spent relaxing, most of the days spent in the sun and the water. Hanging out on the dock until your wet skin dried and you got back in the water. 
Amelia was loving all the space, running back and forth between the house and the dock. 
Lance had even blown up the little floaty you bought for her and put it on her. It lasted all of 3 minutes, he snapped a few photos of her before she pawed at it until it popped. 
You and Lance found out you had a lot in common. 
Aside from your jet setting sisters, you both loved racing even though you didn’t actually race. He spent one week off searching for the best poutine spot in Montreal out of curiosity. You agreed with his finding but you had a difference when he said he liked the crinkle cut fries and not the straight ones. 
---- 
It was Friday around lunch. You hadn't woken up all that long ago and you were about to take Amelia out for a walk when Lance came downstairs. “Headed out?” He asks, pouring some orange juice into a glass. 
You bend down to put her leash on. “Taking Milly for a walk.” 
Lance downs the orange juice and sets the glass in the sink. “I’ll join you.” 
He lets you step out first, the two of you headed down the pathway between the houses. Amelia is pulling on her leash and you unclip it, letting her run ahead for a bit. You and Lance are taking your time, walking and chatting and it was a while before you realize that she wasn’t in front of you. 
“Milly!” You shout, looking around. “Milly! Where are you?!”
Lance glances around before speaking. “I’ll go this way, you go that way.” 
“This sounds like a horror movie but okay.” You give him a look before walking through the trees to your right. 
The woods were eerily quiet, you couldn't even hear Amelia barking. You stepped over a twig, the thing snapping under your foot. You had the feeling that someone was behind you but that was impossible, Lance was on the other side and you two hadn’t seen anyone else out there. 
“Milly!” You shout once more, peeking around a tree for her. 
There’s a snapping noise coming from behind you and you knew it wasn’t coming from you because you look down and there’s nothing under your foot. 
You turn around and there’s no one behind you, maybe it was a squirrel or something. You go to turn back around and a hand grabs your shoulder before you turn all the way, you let out a scream and smack whatever or whoever was in front of you. 
The man laughs, his eyes crinkled as he looks at you. “Lance! What the hell!” You smack his arm, your hand resting on your chest as you catch your breath. 
He smiles, “sorry! I had too.” He tells you with Amelia sitting on his arms, you hadn’t even noticed her here.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack, you ass!” You let out a breath, the two of you walking back to the house. 
Once you got back, you both went for a swim and left Milly inside as she fell asleep for a bit. You were in the water when Lance shouted for you. “Watch this!” He calls, running down the dock to do a cannonball into the lake. 
“Wow!” You shout, clapping for him. Lance does a little bow, almost falling face first into the water again which makes you laugh. 
It was close to dinner when you finished up in the shower, Lance had already come back down and was playing with Amelia on the back deck. You knock on the window to get his attention. 
He sticks his head inside to see you. “What’s up?” 
“Turn the bbq on, we should use out the rest of this.” You tell him, taking the chicken out of the fridge. Lance nods, going off to do what you told him. 
You were getting your own stuff ready to cook when he came back in, Amelia trailing in behind him. Lance washes off his hands before grabbing the bowl off the counter and taking it outside. 
You were midway through cooking when you figured you’d take him a beer. You had just put the lasagna in the oven, the mashed potatoes and the salad sitting on the counter. You cooked way more than two people could eat but you were unaware of how to cook in small quantities. 
“Hey,” you call for him, stepping onto the deck. “Hey,” he smiles at you, accepting the beer you offered him. You were standing next to him, leaning over the railing as you looked out onto the water. 
“I was thinking,” he says and you glance over at him, “I know we’re supposed to leave tomorrow but what if we stay this weekend too? I’m not supposed to leave for London until Tuesday anyways and if you don’t have any plans...” 
“Yeah, that’s fine. I was headed to London on Tuesday as well,” you chuckle. “Something about some Canadian guy at Silverstone? I don’t know,” you shrug.
Lance laughs, “oh really? Wonder who that could be.” 
“Yeah, I think his name is Nicholas? Not really sure.” You bite back a smile and Lance nudged you, laughing. “Yeah but if we’re staying, we’ll have to head to the store and grab some stuff. There’s not enough for the rest of the weekend.”
“We’ll go tomorrow,” he tells you, stepping away to check on the bbq. 
Amelia runs back into the deck, Lance bends down to feed her a piece of chicken before patting her side. “Is dinner almost done?” He asks, glancing over at you. 
“Yeah, should be out in a few minutes.” “Oh good, this is almost done.” He says and with that, you head in to check on the lasagna in the oven. 
You and Lance end up having dinner on the back deck, heading down to the firepit after dinner to make s'mores. 
“This was nice,” you tell him and he looks over at you, “getting away from everything.” 
“Yeah, it’s nice to have some quiet.” He smiles. 
It was starting to get chilly by the water and the mosquitoes were biting so you head inside. Milly was sleeping on your lap and Lance picked the puppy up, carrying her back into the house as you followed behind him. He sets her on the couch while you lock the backdoors. You were checking through the cupboards to see what you needed to pick up at the stores when you found the game you guys had picked up. 
“We didn’t play this yet,” you tell him, setting the box on the counter.   
He sits himself on the stool by the counter. “So let's play then.”
You open the box and take out the instructions, it was fairly self explanatory. You pick a card; truth or dare. If you don’t want to do or answer what said card has on it, you take a shot. 
Lance goes first, picking up one from the dare pile. He reads it out loud, “eat a spoonful of mayo.” 
“Ew!” Your face twists, the thought alone makes you want to gag and you’re not even doing it. 
He looks through the fridge, finding the jar tucked away behind some stuff.  “Just do the shot, Lance. That's gross.” You tell him, already pouring the tequila into a glass. 
“No! I can do it,” he says, picking up some on a spoon. Lance brings it about half way before he drops it back in the jar, taking the shot from you and downing it. 
You go next, reading off the card. “Make a prank call to whoever the last person in your recents is.” 
Annie, your sister was the last person in your recents so you call her, caller id blocked of course and start on about some nonsense but Annie could barely hear you, she was at a club by the sound of it. 
You two go through a few more, do some truths and some dares, the questions a little too personal which caused more than a few shots to be downed. 
“Okay, my turn.” Lance says, reaching over to grab the card. 
You were pouring out the next two shots, finishing off the bottle of Casamigos you had bought. Lance pauses, snickering as he reads the card. “Kiss the hottest person in the room.” 
You laugh, “you’re not gonna find a mirror and start making out with yourself, are you?” 
Lance shrugs, stepping closer to you as he reaches for the shot glass. He drinks the last of the clear liquid and he leans over to you. 
“You’re the hot one.” He grins, clearly the tequila was kicking in. 
“Am I? How sweet of you-” Lance cuts you off with a kiss. 
You freeze, your hand on his cheek, almost to push him away but you can’t bring yourself to move. His hand came to rest on your thigh now that you were sitting on the counter. 
You’re both far too drunk to be thinking logically hence why you don't stop him when he steps between your legs. 
Lance's other hand rests on your jaw, pulling you closer to him. You find yourself scooting to the edge of the counter to wrap your arms over his shoulder when he picks you up. It wasn’t until you got to the bedroom that you realized what was happening. 
Maybe a week with Lance wasn’t so bad after all. 
---- 
The sun peeks through the curtains, your head pounding as you sit up. 
You’re not in your room. 
This is Lance’s room.
It’s a little past noon when you get up and you can feel Lance’s presence behind you. He was still asleep when you crept out of the bedroom. 
Amelia was running through the hallways when you got up so you took her down to the dock, letting her stretch her legs and run around for a bit. 
You were sitting in the chair by the docks, watching the puppy run in silence. The water crashed against the wooden posts of the dock. The sun was shining down on the water but the fog was creeping in, it was going to rain and yet you felt as if the fog had swallowed you whole already. 
The creaking of the wood caught your attention and you glanced over your shoulder; Lance with two cups in hand. 
“Figured you’d want some coffee after last night,” he hands the mug off to you. You give him a tight lipped smile, sipping on the coffee. 
It was quite some time before either of you spoke, Lance sitting to your right and Amelia had sat herself between the chairs. 
“I should go to the store,” you say as you get up. 
Lance mirrors your actions, “I'll join you.” 
“I’ll be fine, it’s 15 minutes.” You insist but Lance wouldn’t budge. “Or a 5 minute drive, let’s go.” 
The drive to the store was quiet, you had left Amelia at home for the time being. You couldn't bring yourself to ask Lance what really happened last night.
Last you remember, you were kissing him on the bed and then it went blank. 
Instead of asking, you choose to ignore it in hopes that the memories will come back. 
You pick up a few things to hold you over the weekend before heading back to the cottage. Lance follows you back into the house but he heads upstairs to take a shower. You head up to change into your bikini because despite the rain, you couldn't bring yourself to spend more time with him in the house. 
You were going to lose your mind if you don’t ask him what happened but you can’t bring yourself to ask. 
Lance comes down to find the house quiet, Amelia playing with her toys in the corner and he peeks outside when he sees the backdoor unlocked. You were in the water even with the pouring rain. 
He steps out, pulling his hoodie over his head. He’s got a towel in hand as he jogs down to the dock. “Hey,” he shouts for you and you turn to see him. 
“What ?” 
“Get out, you’re gonna get sick.” He says, leaning down to grab your hand. Lance pulls you up onto the dock before handing you the towel. “Can we talk?” He asks, following you back to the house. 
You step inside, heading towards the stairs before stopping to look at him. “I need to shower, we can talk after.” 
Lance makes himself busy putting away the stuff you had both left on the counters while you showered. It wasn’t a long shower, you didn’t want him to think you were ignoring him; which you sort of were but that wasn’t the point. 
You didn’t have much time to think before you headed downstairs. 
His back was turned to you as you walked to the fridge, about to grab a beer but you decided against it. Being drunk led you to this predicament. You turn to face him, back against the fridge, “talk.” You tell him. 
“I don’t regret it,” he starts, turning to face you. 
Your face twists, confusion evident. “Regret ?” You ask. 
“Kissing you last night.” He answers. “I like you, y/n. I always have; since we were kids. You were always nice to me and you liked the same things as I did, you got up to watch the races with me while our sisters slept in, you skipped shopping trips to go karting with me. You’ve supported me more than I could ever explain.” 
His words, rather his confession, catches you off guard. You never really saw Lance as more than just Lance; Chloe’s little brother and your friend. Even when he became an F1 driver, he was still Lance. 
It never changed who he was to you. 
It did prompt you to think back to all the big moments over the course of your life. Every big moment, Lance was by your side. He had spent so much time with you when you were getting the charity up and running, you were by his side through the start of his F1 career - you can still remember him getting his maiden pole position and his first podium.  
He was the first person you turned to, good or bad, he was there for you and you did the same for him. 
Maybe Lance was right. Maybe you shouldn't regret the kiss, what was there to regret anyways? 
You’ve known each other your whole lives, liked each other for forever so what was the harm in trying ? 
Lance was staring at you, his brown eyes fixed on you as you stood there,  quietly. He calls your name, pulling your attention back to him and much like a hallmark movie, you can’t help but kiss him. Hands on his cheeks as he pulls you into him. 
“Happy?” You mumble against his lips, the man smiling. “Very.” 
---- 
Chloe and Annie find you and Lance in the garage, you step away to give them time to fawn over the driver before he gets ready for his qualifying session. All 3 of you had joined Lance for Silverstone. You and Lance weren't officially out to anyone yet. 
The weekend spent at the cottage was between the two of you and only the two of you. 
You wander to the back of the garage, putting yourself out of anyone’s way for the time being. The green t-shirt hanging off your frame was being tugged on and you turned to see who it was. “Am I losing my favourite fan?” His accent fills your ear as he stands beside you. 
Anytime you came to a race, you wore an Aston Martin shirt but usually you wore one that said Vettel because when you and Lance were kids, you used to watch races with him and Seb was always your favourite. 
You laugh, looking over at Sebastian. “Never in a million years. He knows who I'm really here for.” 
“Good.” Sebastian smiles, nudging you with his shoulder. “Go,” he tells you. Your brows furrow, “where?” 
“Go be with your man.” “Sebastian!” You laughed, “I know you did not just say that to me.” 
“Oh, is he not?” Seb rolls his eyes, clearly not believing you. 
“Hush, don’t you have a race to get ready for ?” You ask him as he walks off. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to love?” He asks, laughing. 
You roll your eyes, laughing as you walk back over to Lance. Both yours and his sister had stepped away and let him get ready. You straighten his race suit, tugging the zipper up for him. 
“Hey,” he smiles at you and you look up at him. 
“Good luck.” You tell him, pulling him in for a hug. Lance lets you pull away before his hand rests on your cheek before kissing you. “See you when I get out babe.” 
“Mhm hm, be safe.” You smile, wiping the lipgloss from his lips. 
So much for a secret. 
---- 
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