#better late than never .. right ... [ tomatoes ]
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𓏲 * ( jennie kim, cis woman, she/her. ) ⸺ pictures of HANUI "HONEY" LIM, the twenty eight year old influencer and socialite, have been showing up all over my feed, and considering the last time they were #trending, it was due to the exposure of her dysfunctional relationship with her birth mother — i’m not likely to unfollow anytime soon. with their black khaite pleated trousers, baby tee, and versace aevitas boots paired with her jacquemus le bambino tote, they’ve managed to garner a reputation for being more authentic than haughty. their critics say that they’re more pompous than cosmopolitan when they aren’t too busy focusing on their sunbathing on multi million dollar yachts in the french riviera, crystalline tears due to lack of unconditional love held back by ironlike pride, a smile that never wavers as the cameras flash but carries a weight of a thousand pounds, perfectly manicured acrylic nails trailing down your skin in a blazing trail of desire, and soft tendrils tickling your torso as she leaves you craving for more. reputation.com has taken to calling them BELLADONNA in order to avoid a lawsuit ( again ).
BIOGRAPHY.
the park family is one that doesn't need an introduction. an old money family with wealth that dates back before anyone cares to remember. most known for owning one of seoul's most popular and luxury store filled department stores, hotels, food, and more ( similar to lotte corporation ). the park family is one bound to go down in history as one of seoul's most influential, and one of the wealthiest.
park hwayoung, the youngest daughter of the coveted family had been the epitome of wealth the moment she attended one of her family's grand openings for the first time. she was nineteen then, and immediately captured the media's attention. with beauty that could rival that of the time's most popular idols and actresses, it was no surprise that she became the object of many chaebol's affections. hwayoung was interested in none of it, completly interested in those who think showering her in gifts would be enough to call her their own. she was only interested in going to college— yonsei university, to be exact, and it's there that she meets her future husband, lim jiwoon.
jiwoon, unlike the other suitors that crossed hwayoung's path, did not come from wealth. sure, his family lived comfortably, but there were no chauferred cars or professionally cooked dinners every night. the two met during a blind double date, instantly connecting over their shared love of matcha, hatred of coffee and green grape tarts. from that moment on, the rest was history. they became engaged while celebrating their graduation from yonsei, and married a little over a year later. the couple were a big slow about having children, and once they did, they would only have one baby girl.
hanui, quickly nicknamed honey by her family, instantly became the apple of everyone's eye. the only granddaughter, hanui is instantly shown what it means to be spoiled. no matter what she wants, she barely has to ask before it's in her possession. most might say it's bad to spoil a child to this extent, but the little girl still knew what it meant to be grateful for everything she ever received. as a teen, growing up in the beginning era of youtube vlogs, hanui grew an instant attraction to it. she loved watching her favorite youtubers show off their lifestyles, so why couldn't she do the same? it's shortly after her seventeenth birthday, after being gifted a camera, that hanuihoney is born.
at first, hanui is a little nervous to show her face, due in part to which family she came from. she was showing the intimate parts of her life from the four corners of her bedroom, and when she whould go out with her equally wealthy friends. it's when she's twenty that hanui does a face reveal, and after garnering 1m subscribers in her first few years without showing her face, that number skyrockets even higher once she finally does so. it's not unheard of for someone with a high following to become the face of a brand, and this happens with hanui. she goes from a social media star to having her face on a billboard in seemingly no time, and as her own wealth grows, hanui figures it's time to start living on her own.
after much discussion with her family, hanui leaves south korea behind to land in new york, where she looks for greater opportunities. she finds her place in the social scene of new york, and gets invited to fashion week for the first time, where she makes a memorable splash. it's been about five years since hanui moved to new york, and while she attempts to not end up on reputation.com, she's failing miserably.
HEADCANONS.
hanui's parents divorced when she was twenty one, which had become the gossip of the year. there had been problems in their relationship, and sadly, most of it was stemming from hwayoung's selfishness. growing up spoiled much like her own daughter, hwayoung was a woman who could never see more than just herself at times. when they divorced, jiwoon attempted to keep things civil, but their relationship unfortunately could not be salvaged.
hanui's social media handles are a play on "honey honey". when it comes to her content, she has always been classified as more of a lifestyle content creator. when she first began, she wouldn't show her face aside from glimpses of it every so often. most could consider her as a "faceless" youtuber, but the day she did a full face reveal, her social media blew up even more.
above all else, she's a socialite. she loves going to events, private or public, and she especially will have her camera/phone with her where permitted. she's not too keen on filming in public unless it's a branded video, but she will if it goes with the content she's posting.
she doesn't like to cook, but when she does, she loves to make traditional korean foods. despite growing up with wealth, if there was one thing her mother made sure of, it was that she cooked meals for her family. her favorite meals are jajangmyeon, ramyeon, and bulgogi. if asked, hanui would cook for people when coming by her home or if invited to a potluck / friendsgiving.
personality wise— she's known as someone who's able to get what she wants with the point of a finger or bat of a lash. she has a strong interest in people as a whole regardless of their identifying gender. she's a jealous person, and doesn't like when someone she's interested in has another person in their ear.
she's more than likely the one who burns bridges with former friends, but somehow always has a reason for doing so. she dislikes being told what to do and hasn't shaken the desire for confrontation. hanui unfortunately has twitter fingers, but she at least provides receipts to back up whatever she says. she's very shady, like real housewives kind of shady, but she will do it straight to someone's face. hanui is known for her resting bitch face, which is not a façade to who she really is.
connections.
don't beat me up.
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Memory Garden
peeta mellark x female mc (Jude Slone)
summary; you made haymitch promise, if it came down to you or Peeta that he’d save Peeta. And he did. But now you’re back from the Capitol with one thing certain, Peeta Mellark is the one true enemy.
warnings: angst angst angst, mean thoughts ab peeta beloved and honestly just a lot of writing i didn’t need to do
———
Peeta did this.
The mantra floated through my head, as I yanked on the restraint again.
He’s the reason everyone you love is against you.
Another yank.
He blew up District 12
“Jude, feeling hungry yet?” Haymitch’s voice breaks the static but the mantra just quietens but doesn’t stop. My hand drops the bind.
“What do you have?” It was a better response than i’d given lately. What if Peeta tried to kill me and poisoned my portion… I couldn’t risk it. “No, I don’t want it”
He sighs, still coming towards me with the tray “I promise you, Peeta doesn’t want you dead. You know that, think”
I scowled, “I know what I saw. I know what he did. He’s a monster, Haymitch. Don’t make me, I dont want his filthy blood on my hands” He scoffed, dropping the tray onto the table next to me.
“Let’s hope lover boy comes and feeds you bevause I’m not putting up with this” And with that he leaves the room.
I glanced at the tray, tomato soup with toast coated in possibly cheese, but it’s not the delicious toast that catches my eye, the soup, it’s not red. They’ve added ingredients to make it appear more orange… Not bright orange.
A sunset.
“I still remember that Christmas he brought me that green sweater. Green doesn’t suit me” I say, the air was brisk and I hated walking in the Winter but I couldn’t turn Peeta down when he came to my door.
“I refuse to believe you look bad in anything” I scoff, glad it’s cold knowing he might take that as thhe reason my cheeks are now red. “What is your favourite colour?”
I raise my eyebrow at him “I’m sure there are better things to talk about then my favourite colour”
He watches me as we walk for a moment “I don’t see anything more important” It makes me slow to a stop, “Tell me, please. I want to know”
I look to him, his kind blue eyes and blond hair that looks incredibly soft without all those products they use during interviews, he looks beautiful.
“It used to be red but I think i’m leaning towards purple” I shrug, “It’s only fair that i’ve revealed that secret you tell me yours”
He smiles before looking up at the sun, it’s setting letting the streaks of orange paint the sky “Orange, right there. It’s the second most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” I glance at him unsure as to why he’d say second until I see the look in his eyes.
My head snaps at the memory, cruel and unforgiving. That’s what Peeta was, and he would hurt me so I had to kill him before he tried first.
His face twists in the memory as I replay it over and over again, he doesn’t look like himself, Hatred flared in a moment that was full of pure adoration. I see it now like i’m looking through a camera at the two of us.
He looks like he loves me… Then his eyes lose their spark like a snap and he’s spitting awful words at me, one’s ill never forget.
I’ll never forget he’s the reason i’m like this.
—
The food goes cold and I go another day without eating and under sedation after I nearly come out of binding when they try to insert the needle into my arm to get food into my body.
I awake in an empty room but there’s a buzz in the air, I look to the mirror across from me. I look better than I did the first time I looked inside, I’d look better if I ate proper food but I can’t, he wants me dead and he won’t fail again.
The door hisses open bringing my attention away from my strangely hair, Katniss stands at the door, tears in her eyes.
“You need to eat something” She whispers but the room is so quiet i’m not surprised if she can hear my blaring thoughts or the alarm going off in my head.
“Get out” I spit, turning away from her. Katniss was close to Peeta, never too close for respect of me which I hated now, she should have stopped whatever was forming between the two of us. Now it’s this. “I don’t want to see you.”
“It’s been months, I thought-“ She tries to speak but she stops when my head snaps to her aswell, her eyes are searching my face. I still look awful, I know that and it seems she still hasn’t come to terms with what I had gone through. Why don’t they see it’s his fault? Always.
“He’s the reason this happened to me, Katniss. And you’re still going to side with him. If you don’t kill him then he’ll kill me Katniss, Don’t you see!” I scream, her back hits the door and it hisses open and my heart stops.
There, he is. He’s not expecting the door to open, the surprise on his face is evident as those blue eyes bore into mine and I steel myself preparing for the hatred, his attempts to end my life.
But neither happen, he watches me with nothing but sadness and his hands are empty, just slack at his sides as he takes a step forward and I’m frozen, It’s not making sense.
He keeps coming closer and my heart is beating out my chest. Run! He’s going to kill you! My head screams but he doesn’t look like he will kill me, he looks like he wants to be next to me and holding me through this, possibly the one feeding me the tomato soup like Haymitch suggested.
“Jude… Please, I’d never-“ He seems to choke on his words as a tear slips down his cheek “Come back to me” Come back and trust me so I can kill you, I hear instead. The words make me flinch, the movement is so large the whole bed moves with me, screeching.
He backs away, the door hisses open again but he doesn’t move to get out “You’re just here to kill me!” I cried, wishing him out of the room.
Get out. Get out. Get out!!!
I must’ve screamed the last time because he’s gone and finally the screaming in my head stops and I fall to the bed, the thought of food or anything fades, only the want to be far from him stays.
—
I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd hunger games, i’m from District Twelve and Peeta Mellark does not want me dead.
I repeat in my head over and over again, as the truck rolls over cracks and bumps, my body jumps at each bit of debris we hit and I hit the metal seat hard each time but the pain is real. Which is hard to say about a lot lately.
Peeta Mellark wants doesn’t want you dead.
I shake my head, thst one was the hardest to remember and at times, it was no where reachable and all that would sustain me in that moment would be his blood on my hands.
Finally the truck pulled to a stop, I straightened my shoulders. I’d been taken by the Capital and my memories have been distorted, my first thought may not always be the right one.
With that final word of encouragement I let the anxiety slip from me as the back door opens and I’m led out. The sun blinds me for a moment, I’d only seen it for a moment when they made me leave base but only to be stuffed back in the van.
Now I could see the destruction. His fault. No, no, no. I took a deep breath, before turning to seeing the loving welcome party at the front of what seemed to be an abandoned building.
Katniss with her bow, Gale with his crossbow and the five members of their squad had their guns trained on me, including Peeta. My heart hammered but I kept upright as I took the empty gun from the guard before waltzing my way towards the group.
I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd Hunger Games, I am from Distrisct 12 and None of these people want me dead.
“What is she doing here?” Katniss is the first to speak and though her eyes are trained on me, i know she doesn’t want me to answer.
“Coin wants her to be shown on screen, the victors fighting on the same side” A dark man, who screamed military spoke and he was the only one besides Finnick who hadn’t raised their gun at me. “I don’t like the gun”
“Cant have me fighting with my bare hands on screen” I mutter, before shaking the weapon “It’s empty”
The tension seemed to ease slightly in the group but while half of them had lowered their weapons, Peeta, Katniss and Gale hadn’t. I had to remember what I’d been like this past month, I wouldn’t trust me either.
“I don’t like this” Peeta. His words cut deep and I deflate at them before the military man waves everyone to come inside, not before a solider by the name of Jackson, she told me, quietly instructed me that i’d be restrained for their safety.
“I understand, but I’m not a child”
“No just someone who went through a lot of shit” Finnick says behind Jackson, and my eyes dart up. I didn’t know where my mind stood with Finnick, I didn’t feel like killing him but I hadn’t felt like killing Peeta a moment ago but we all knew it would come.
It was why I was being restrained in the first place. I nod at his words, unsure of how to respond before they lead me inside. The wall along the door was made of glass and I watched as the van that stopped me off, vanished in the distance.
I was stuck here and I didn’t know if I would ever leave this ruin of a city. I kept my distance from the group as they moved into the centre and I took a seat beside the window.
“We’ll have to set up an around the clock guard on her, we can take shifts” Military man said, turning to look at me. “I’ll take the first shift, Names Boggs.”
I preferred Military man but I nodded all the same, “I want a shift” Peeta’s voice is small compared to Boggs but it silences the room all the same.
“Not happening” Jackson speaks up this time, confusing me on who’s in command.
“I can do it!” Peeta argued back, standing from his seat “It’s not her… The Capital killed her and whoever they sent back to us, i’ll be happy to put a bullet in its head” I flinched, turning my eyes down to my hands. Clenching them, was I dead? The girl I was? I shake my head, I am Jude Slone and I did not die in the Capital. They broke me but I am not unfixable. I am broken not unfixable.
I am unfixable.
“I’m not sure seeing as a mutt helps” Jackson declares but Boggs cuts her off
“Give him a shift, Katniss too.” There was no room for argument as Jackson nodded and began to schedule the guard clock. I wanted to be more helpful, tell them that maybe they could go an hour and they could all rest, but I didn’t even trust myself to do that.
Instead I kept silent, letting the rest of them discuss our plan while I watched the day pass by through the glass. “How’re you feeling?” Finnick’s voice from beside me makes me jump. I turn to him and he looks almost glowing, I’d heard something about him and Annie.
I knew I would feel happy for him if I didn’t feel so disconnected. Finnicks memories that came to mind now only brought warmth, nothing haunting. Which was relieving, he was a breath of fresh air.
“Away, I feel like everything’s happening and I’m not really here” I try to explain and he seems to understand. “I don’t want to be a problem, I don’t know why they sent me here… I’m not ready.”
He frowns, “I think you’re where you need to be, normally whenver Annie gets confused she asks me, and I promise you, you’ll find nothing but the truth here” I glance over to the group who had begun to seperate and close their eyes.
It must be Finnicks shift. The thought made this whole encounter turn cold but still, I took in his words as my eyes trained on the baker boy. “Peeta was the reason this happened to me… Real?”
He shakes his head, “You made Haymitch swear if it came down to the two of you that he’d get Peeta to safety” Finnick explained but my mind screamed at me that he was lying. Why would I ask that? Peeta and I didn’t get along, no, we did and we’d almost- I didn’t know what we almost did or if he hated me or loved me and it made me want to rip my hair out as my thoughts banged against my head.
He was not the reason you went to the Capital, you chose this. You didn’t want him to go through this… That felt right, staring at him now, I would never wish upon him those nights in the Capital.
“I know it must be hard. Annie went through a lot but they know that the Capital never left you alone, you were their main priority.” Finnick places a hand on my shoulder, bringing my fully to the present for what felt like the first time. “None of us blame you at all for what happened.
I forgot how long it’s been since someone had been gentle with me. Skin to skin, human contact. My body released its pressure, relaxing in my seat. “Thank you, Finnick”
He smiled before sitting up straighter, and we together sat in silence watching the night sky slowly fall upon us as the rest that were awake finally knocked off
“Get some rest” Finnick muttered to me softly, tapping my leg as he got up. I could see his eyes dropping a while ago but he still stayed and it relieved me that he was finally putting himself first.
I nodded, I would not be sleeping tonight. Each time I closed my eyes another memory would wash over me, I’ve started to get better at knowing if it’s real or not without verification.
Like the one of Peeta and Is confession of our favourite colours, it was easier to picture him smiling at me now instead of anger and whenever it did dissolve to the image it was almost too perfect, his freckles gone and the scar he got from the 75th games vanished, as did the dark circles under my eyes and the few strands out of place were perfectly flat. Too perfect.
I watched Finnick rouse Peeta and point over to me. Of course, I could only get so lucky. I heard someone clear their throat before they took a seat across from me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t know where my mind would jump to.
And he seemed to take the message, he didn’t try to speak to me either. She asks me. I promise you’ll find nothing but truth here.
Finnick was right, I couldn’t close myself off and hope I’d be able to fix myself. If it was that easy, I’d be normal again. “Finnick told me that whenever i’m having trouble differentiating real from not real I should just ask…”
I glanced up at him, in the darkness it was hard to make out his uniform but his blonde hair and pale skin were easy to spot and it made my body tingle as I registered just how close he was and I didn’t feel like wringing my hands around his neck. Relief.
“Shoot away” I raised an eyebrow “Not literally” I smiled softly at that before cycling through my head and I settled back into his favourite colour. What if I asked and his favourite was blue or something? Sunset orange was just another lie they filled into my head. Ask.
“Your favourite colour. It’s sunset orange, real? Not real?” I clench my fists, please. please.
“Real… Yours used to be red but after the hunger games you couldn’t stand it” He explained, and he was right. I used to tie a red bow into my hair everyday until my reaping now the colour reminded me of the slaughter in the 73rd Hunger games.
“But you said you were beginning to like purple… I remember that day, I told you the sunset was the second most beautiful thing i’d ever seen… And the first was right in front of me” I stiffened, though the confession didn’t shock me, looking back I could’ve seen it if I looked hard enough in the moment “And it’s killing me, bevause you’re right in front of me again but you’re like the stars I can’t reach. I… Can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do. And it feels really, really shitty, knowing we might never get through this”
He stands abruptly from his seat “I can’t do this” And he storms out, but I’m clenching my fists too tight to stop, swearing at every god to let this memory stay and not be corrupted by fear. I can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do because if I came closer you’d kill me. Was the truth.
— — —
do we want a part two?!?
part two out now!
#hunger games#books#peeta mellark#peeta supremacy#the hunger games#coriolanus snow#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark works#peeta mellark imagine#peeta#mellark#peeta mellark x reader
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I LOVE YOU LIKE . . .
pairing. enhypen ot7 x fem!reader
genre. fluff, angst in some of them if you squint
synopsis: in which enha members love you like different songs
LEE HEESEUNG
“i love you like seasons by wave to earth”
he was the bad boy who was afraid to love you because he was so scared he would ruin your life. he tried convincing you that it wouldn’t work, that you deserved way better than he could ever be.
“that’s not true hee,” you say as you cupped his face into your hands. “i love you and that’s all that matters.”
although lee heeseung swore to himself he would never fall in love, the idea is thrown out the window as soon as you muttered those 3 words that seemed to change his whole lookout on life.
“i love you.” he says as he places a kiss on your forehead, engulfing you into a hug. “thank you for loving me back in this universe.”
PARK JONGSEONG
“i love you like my love mine all mine by mitski”
jay was a certified lover boy by heart. people, more specifically, guys—would often tell jay it was too early to settle down and he should have as much fun as he could before that moment came.
he disagreed completely. jay wanted someone to love, someone who he’d propose to after dating for some time. he didn’t just want someone to warm his bed for the night, or call when he’s drunk and alone. he wanted someone who would stay up late to talk about spontaneous things like how many kids they wanted or what career they wanted to go into.
and he found himself lucky when he met you, the cute girl in his chemistry class on his first day at college. you swooned him over with just one smile, and he knew he was helpless right there and then.
“here—i can get that.” he says, reaching for your heavy backpack.
“oh it’s okay jay!” you quickly protest, but it’s to no avail because jay’s already got it swung around his shoulder, your textbooks in his hand.
“i can’t have my future children knowing i made their mother carry heavy items, can i?” he jokes, which makes you blush as you look down at your feet.
“enough jay! you’re gonna make me turn a tomato.”
it has only been one week since he’s asked you to be his girlfriend with some cliche chemistry pickup line, but it was the best decision of his life. after all, you were all his, and he was all yours.
SIM JAEYUN
“i love you like would that i by hozier”
sim jaeyun likes to think of your relationship as a breath of fresh air on the first day of summer vacation. he feels fulfilled when he’s with you, and he couldn’t ask the universe for a better feeling.
when you spoke about the things you loved, he listened in attentively, his pretty eyelashes batting as his ears concentrated themselves to only tune into your voice.
“hey! are you listening?” sunoo whines as he taps jake’s shoulder, but heeseung stops stops him.
“don’t bother,” heeseung snickers. “jake’s too obsessed with his girlfriend to hear you.”
he lives for picnic dates with you in autumn when the leaves are turning their pretty shade of orange. he’d pick a more secluded place, one where you can run off into the nearby grass while he chases after you, pulling you into a hug and placing kisses all over your face once he catches you
PARK SUNGHOON
“i love you like slut by taylor swift”
park sunghoon was most definitely the most popular guy in your uni. he had the looks and his shy but charming personality made him even more attractive to the girls.
when they first saw you walking around with sunghoon, there were rumors that he was just using you because they’d never seen him with a girl before and he wasn’t the type of guy to get into a relationship (but boy were they wrong)
he wanted to take things slow because he really liked you, so you two began hanging out more and more and he even introduced you to his friends — heeseung, jake and jay.
heeseung and jake even took you to the arcade after one of your long exams, claiming they needed to take care of sunghoon’s girlfriend even though he hadn’t officially asked you out yet.
when girls at the uni saw this, they freaked out, bombarding you with words like slut or whore simply because you were hanging out with sunghoon’s friends.
“i don’t know why they hate me so much.” you sniffle as you wipe away your tears. one of the girls had bumped into your shoulder harshly as she was walking by, creating a small but aching bruise where she had hit.
“c’mere.” sunghoon says, pulling you into his arms. “they’re just jealous because i like you and not them. you’re the most beautiful and sweetest girl i know.”
even though everybody seemed to like park sunghoon, he made it clear that he wanted you, and when he pulled you in earlier as you cried to him, you realized that in a world full of boys, park sunghoon was a gentleman.
KIM SUNOO
“i love you like sweet by cigarettes after sex”
it was truly easy to fall in love with kim sunoo. he was the epitome of sunshine, and he made your days just a little bit brighter by simply being around you.
loving kim sunoo was sweet and delicate, going on small dates where you two would walk around and eat street food as you admired the views that seoul had to offer.
“i love you, you know that?” sunoo suddenly says, finishing up the last of the bread he bought from the sweet old lady vendor next to your house.
“all of a sudden?” you giggle nervously, tippy toeing to place a small kiss on the bridge of his nose.
“just thought i’d let you know.” he shrugs. “i love you more than anything.”
“i love you too sun,” you smile. “you’re the sweetest boy i could ask for.”
YANG JUNGWON
“i love you like real love baby by father john misty”
loving yang jungwon felt like finally kissing your soulmate in the rain.
it felt like kissing them with such a passion even though both of your hairs are wet from the water and you swear that you’ll catch a cold the next day by your soaked clothes.
however, it doesn’t matter because you’re finally with the one person that you want.
loving yang jungwon felt like that. it felt real, and it felt like it was the final piece in your missing puzzle.
“wanna dance in the rain?” jungwon asks, eyebrows wiggling themselves at you.
you roll your eyes, smacking your hand against his chest softly. “and risk catching a fever? i thought you were more responsible than that yang.”
“ouch,” he says, holding his chest. “we’re on last name basis now?”
you pull him in, placing a kiss so quickly on his lips that he whines when you push him back.
“that was not fair!” he says, sitting himself next to you on the soft fuzzy floor.
“oh my won baby,” you tease. “we can dance in the rain only if you promise we get chinese takeout after.”
“PROMISE!” he shrieks, grabbing your hand as he practically runs over to the coat shack.
NISHIMURA RIKI
“i love you like black friday by tom odell”
nishimura riki was a joker by heart. he loved playing around and making jokes because it made his body rush with dopamine that fueled his ability to keep going.
however, when he was with you, it was like there was a whole new side to him — that not even his friends or family knew.
“i wish i had a better body,” you say, frowning as you look down at your legs that were currently tangled with riki’s on the couch. “i wanna be perfect like all of my friends.”
the clicking of his remote stops immediately after you say that, his game console long abandoned as he untangles his legs from yours, pulling you straight into his arms.
“yah, where is this coming from?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “did someone say something?”
“no.” you sigh.
“you know that you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever set my eyes on?” he says, holding your shoulders so that he could make direct eye contact with you. “pretty like the ocean, pretty like the wind, everytime i’m around you — i get this rush of adrenaline. you make me so happy.”
your eyes soften at his sweet and genuine tone, wrapping your arms around his neck as you play with his hair. “i love you riki, you make me happy too.”
he lets you lay your head on his lap as he plays his game, your laugh every time he made a noise of disapproval at his teammates made his heart leap.
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fic#enhypen fluff#enhypen texts#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen ff#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#heeseung#sunghoon#jungwon#sunoo#ni-ki#ni ki#heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#jungwon x reader#jungwon imagines#niki x reader#niki imagines#sunoo x reader#sunoo imagines
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No Red Flags - Oscar Piastri
⋗ Pairing - Oscar Piastri x Mechanical Engineering Student!reader
⋗ Summary - Oscar comes crashes back into your life, quite literally when he barrels you down on the paddock, bringing with him all types of unwanted feelings and a whole slew of problems.
⋗ Word count - 11.2k words, fluff, Oscar being emotionally unavailable
⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, I hope y'all don't mind this long fic, this was a reminder to myself that I hate type-setting texting, feedback and reblogs are appreciated
Oscar has never been the type to keep a girl for long, a mix of not having the time, and focusing all his efforts on karting, which has finally turned fruitful and given him a contract in F1.
A series of events has led him to exchange the girl on his arm just twice this year, one for another. His feelings just seemed to change, he tells you.
And you? You aren't much better, never able to hold onto a relationship, never falling fast, but always falling hard. The havoc the last guy left you in is still fresh in your mind, even if the guy isn't.
You're doing your internship at McLaren for their mechanical engineering department, and Oscar is in and out of the factory constantly to get ready for his debut next year. There aren't a lot of people around your age in the department, most are a lot more than a few years older. You would be as well if you managed to get a job when you're done with your master's. But that is years into the future, and you’re still writing your bachelor's.
It leaves Oscar to gravitate towards you, still not used to all the people constantly trying to get him to do this, do that, stand here, stand there. You're asking none of those things of him, mostly because you're stressed out of your mind with the looming deadline, and that you know you're behind on your bachelor.
But you get talking, a few words at first, which turns to exchanging weekend stories, turns to deep conversations when you're the only ones left in the department that one Tuesday afternoon. And you show him what you've been working on for your bachelor.
Oscar is intrigued, seemingly asking the right questions, admitting he would probably have been an engineer if he hadn't become a driver.
You mention offhand that you don't want to go home because you have to eat leftovers again, and Oscar pipes up with "I like food."
"What?"
"I like food, I can eat the last of your leftovers."
The already long Tuesday turns longer as you find yourself heating pasta and tomato sauce for this guy. Both are things that are definitely not on his dietary plan, but you're not complaining. Just happy to finally be rid of the last of your leftovers from the week before.
Oscar starts to talk about himself and tells you he used to go to boarding school, and you slowly realise you have quite a few things in common as the evening progresses. You tell him about your own short stint at a boarding school while your parents lived abroad. When the topic comes to past partners, Oscar tells you of how he kind of met his current girlfriend while being with his past one, how that was a dick move that he broke up with her 2 weeks after telling his ex that he was up for the long distance.
You tell him of the guy that fucked you up, how he had promised the world, only to go ahead and break your heart, and like a fool, you had taken him back when he apologised, only for him to go ahead and cheat on you, not just 1, not 2, but 3 times within the summer months. How he had wrecked your self-esteem, as he hadn't left quietly but wanted to tear you down as he left your world.
Then you sober up a bit and ask Oscar "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?"
Oscar shrugs, and goes "She doesn't have to if you don't tell her." The air shifts and it all feels wrong. He is sitting too close. You’re feeling nervous. A look of worry flashes on his face. You tell him he should get going.
“It's getting late, and I have work early in the morning.”
Oscar doesn't understand why you're kicking him out, and why you've suddenly closed yourself back up.
Once you've practically shoved him out of the door, you realise that you've fucked up. That was not what was meant to happen. That was not how you needed the last few weeks of your internship to be used.
But here you are, with Oscar in your vicinity at work, and he’s not understanding why you're so curt with him, why you aren't having the same kind of conversations with him anymore. And then one day you're gone, and he's told that your internship is over.
You become a passing thought in his head, and he becomes a distant memory in yours, something that happened during your internship.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
2 years later, you’re in the beginning stages of your master's degree. Oscar has had an amazing first year driving for McLaren and is still living his best life, although his relationships only seem to become even more short-lived than the last one. His current girl won't stick around for long, he knows this, it doesn't take an intellect to see that she's here for the travels and followers she gets on Instagram, and Oscar doesn't really care.
But then he sees you in Silverstone, at least he thinks he does. He tries to unsubtly turn around and walk past the Mercedes garage again. Instead, he ends up turning around and just staring straight into the group of students who are talking to the engineers. And sure enough, right by the group of guys you stick out.
"Oscar, what are you doing?" The PR manager asks, "We have places to be."
"Uh, yes, coming." Oscar turns away and catches back up.
"If you're going to steal secrets, don't do it so obviously,” his PR manager jokes, before rambling on about all the interviews he has to do after free practice today.
Oscar doesn't get why he can't get the image of you out of his head. He had honestly forgotten about you, but here you are, wearing Mercedes clothes, and for some reason, it unnerves him. You had always worn your own clothes or something with McLaren branding back 2 years ago. But now you're sporting an ever-usual ponytail and Mercedes clothes.
You stroll past the McLaren garage, hopeful to spot familiar faces from your internship. Instead, you find yourself halting, taking a moment to point out details on the car that you saw being worked on to your classmate – a reminiscent gesture from your internship at the McLaren factory. Unintentionally, your eyes briefly catch Oscar's. Witnessing a moment of hesitation, he pauses his conversation with Lando Norris, the first seater at McLaren. Choosing to move forward, you leave the scene as Patrick wants to see the Red Bull team before the qualifier kicks off.
Instead, Oscar comes barrelling out of the garage, yelling your name after you, causing you to flinch and stop. You turn around slowly, fully aware of the hundreds of eyes that have turned onto you.
"Hey." Oscar breathes out, his lips gracing a small smile.
"Hi?" You question back before your classmate sticks his hand out.
"Hello! I'm Patrick," your classmate says, waiting for Oscar to take his hand, and a few seconds too long passes before Oscar does.
"I'm Oscar, the driver for McLaren."
Patrick smiles wide, "I know! Can I take a picture with you? I'm sorry, I've just been a massive fan the last few years, tried to get in to write my master's degree but there weren't any slots open for our year and-"
"Yeah, sure." Oscar cuts him off, with a nod and a pr practised smile. Patrick fishes out his phone and quickly makes you snap a picture of the two.
"Thank you so much!" Your last lifeline, says as he's hurrying down the paddock ready to brag that he got a picture with Oscar Piastri.
"I thought you were a McLaren fan at heart." He tries to joke, as you shrug your shoulders.
"You heard him, there weren't any spots for our year, and I was lucky to get a foot in the door at Mercedes. I wasn't going to turn that down,” you tell him, looking around awkwardly, fully aware of how it looks to have what looks like a Mercedes engineer talking to the McLaren driver.
"You could have asked me?" The two of you aren't sure who's the most surprised by those words. Oscar for saying them, or you for hearing them.
"What?"
"I mean, you could have, eh, asked me?" Oscar realises how it sounds as he tries to defend his previous question. How could you even do that? You two never exchanged info, you were only friendly at work, and then you just stopped talking to each other.
"I will... I will keep that in mind?" You say although it comes out as another question, the surrounding air is turning awkward, and you know you should probably leave. "I will see you around. I just have things to do, and you know, Mercedes... Yes." You make a weird hand gesture before hurrying off down the paddock.
Oscar waves after you awkwardly, before stopping himself, realising that you aren't turning around to look at him.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The next time you see Oscar, it’s a lot less you see him, and much more you barely hear him calling out your name before he rams straight into you, sending both of you tumbling to the asphalt of the paddock.
“I’m so sorry!” Oscar is quick to apologise, as you’re trying to untangle yourself from the surprise attack.
“Hello to you too.” You run a hand over your left elbow, you’ve scraped it. Oscar finally gets up on his feet, staring at you as you sit on the ground. “If I get blood on my shirt, I’m definitely sending you the invoice.”
You crack a small smile at his dumbfounded look, nodding to his hand before he reaches forward and you grab it. You let him help you up.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you were gone,” Oscar repeats himself. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get the chance to give you my number.” He hands over a piece of paper. Chicken scratches in a surprisingly neat row, spelling out what you can barely decipher as a phone number.
“Thank you… Oscar?”
He smiles for a moment before the silence falls and his face seems to as well. He’s openly searching for a response, and you aren’t sure what it is. Apparently, thanking him wasn’t what he was hoping for.
You bite your tongue, before sighing. “You shouldn’t hand out your number to other girls when you’re in a relationship.”
Oscar blinks at you, “I’m not?”
“Then what about her?” You nod at the girl standing by the garage, wearing a hoodie with Oscar’s number on it. She’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second as Oscar turns around and looks at her.
“Oh that… Yeah.” Oscar shrugs. It sends a shiver down your spine, his dismissal tone mixed with his indifferent facial expression. All of it screaming to you, he’s a walking red flag. Don’t do this to yourself.
You take a step back, your scraped elbow forgotten in the sudden surge of discomfort.
"Yeah," you manage to mumble, not wanting to linger any longer in this awkward exchange. You glance at the girl by the garage, whose eyes briefly meet yours before she looks away. It's clear she's caught in the middle of something she probably didn't sign up for.
"I... I thought..." Oscar stammers, seemingly at a loss for words.
You shake your head, deciding it is best not to delve into the intricacies of his personal life. "It doesn't matter. I have to go," you say, tucking the paper with his number into your pocket, the weight of it feeling surprisingly heavy.
As you walk away, you can't help but replay the brief encounter in your mind. It's a strange mix of nostalgia, irritation, and a newfound realisation that some things never really change. Oscar seems to be stuck in the same patterns, and you don't want to be a part of that cycle.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
Days pass, and you find yourself torn between dialling the number and simply discarding it. The rational part of your mind screams at you to let it go, but there's a small, persistent voice that wonders if people can truly change. Another one telling you that you won’t be part of whatever cycle he’s going through if you just keep him at arm's length.
Eventually, curiosity gets the better of you, and you type in his number. Chuckling to yourself at his contact name, before you decide to send a brief text.
You: Hey finally deciphered your chicken scratches how have you been?
The response is almost immediate.
Os🚗: Hey! I've been good. Any invoices I need to pay?
You: Invoices?
Os🚗: Yeah, for your team shirt, I know the first few ones are special.
You: Ah no got it out with cold water and soap
You: Thanks for that btw
You wait a minute before sending another text.
You: My elbow is all healed up as well
Os🚗: Good to hear 👍
You: You text like my dad
Os🚗: 👎
You: Skill issue
You laugh to yourself, before realising half your lecture is now looking at you. It pulls you right back to reality. You only texted him because it seemed slightly more fun than listening to a guest lecture on spring physics.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The days pass, and your interactions with Oscar continue sporadically through text. The initial awkwardness fades, replaced by a casual banter that surprises you. It's almost as if the past is being overwritten by a new script, one in which you're just two acquaintances catching up.
Yet, in the back of your mind, the warning signs still linger. The memory of that awkward encounter with the girl by the garage and Oscar's dismissive attitude towards her. Then add on all those years ago in your apartment where he told you to keep quiet, it all sits as a constant reminder. You find yourself treading carefully, keeping the conversations light and steering clear of anything that could lead to future problems.
As you're scrolling through your phone during a break, TikTok seems to think you’ve found a sudden interest in the edits of Oscar. A notification pops up. It's a message from the man of the hour.
Os🚗: Hey, I have a weekend off, and Lando has me coming to the UK. Do you have time to meet for some time?
You hesitate, considering the invitation. A part of you is curious about how a casual meeting would unfold, but another part is wary. Oscar has been very clear in every single one of your interactions that he wants to get closer to you, in a way that’s intruding on all your thoughts, will only bring you trouble, unwanted complications, and unneeded problems. You know he will try to mask any advantages with the simple gesture of just wanting to be friends.
But friends don’t look at each other the way Oscar looks at you, and it’s weird, you don’t want to find out why he does look at you like that.
You: Thanks for the offer but I've got plans this weekend. Maybe some other time
Oscar's response is swift.
Os🚗: No problem. Just let me know when you're free.
When you’re free? You really shouldn’t, you absolutely shouldn’t be considering it.
As the days pass, you find yourself contemplating the situation. The cautious voice in your head warns against getting too involved, while the curious side wonders if people truly can change. It's a delicate balance, and you're not sure which way to lean.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The allure of a face-to-face meeting lingers, but so does the memory of that uncomfortable encounter at the paddock. Oscar keeps pestering you through texts as the months pass, you’re making up excuses as you go, yet your reasoning keeps running thinner until you’re left with nothing to justify your rejections.
You're sipping coffee and reviewing some notes, as your phone buzzes with a call from Oscar. Why would he be calling you, he never calls, he only ever texts in that dad-type of way. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you answer.
"Hey, it's Oscar."
A small laugh slips past your lips, "Yeah, I know, caller ID was invented half a century ago."
"McLaren has me in London, well, south of it, and I was thinking we could grab a coffee or something. Face-to-face, you know?"
“Oscar… Why are you so insistent?” The question blurts out of you before you seem to realise you actually said it out loud.
“Because we’re friends?” It’s meant to sound like an answer, but to you, it sounds like he’s inquiring about the most obvious thing in the world. And for a moment you feel like an asshole.
A small moment of weakness shows in the way you say, “I don’t have the time to come to London, but if you find yourself in Brackley on Thursday.”
You never mention a time or a place, yet he agrees so easily, and you wonder if you’re going to regret this.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
Thursday arrives, and you’re nervously glancing at the clock as the appointed time approaches. Your work at Mercedes keeps you occupied, but there's a subtle anticipation building in the background. The decision to meet Oscar has left you in a state of conflicting emotions, and you're not entirely sure what to expect.
As the clock strikes the start of your lunch break, you're surprised to see Oscar approaching the entrance of the Mercedes facility. His casual demeanour contrasts with the high-security surroundings, but he seems unfazed. You meet him at the entrance, exchanging a brief nod.
"Hey," he greets you with a warm smile.
"Hey," you reply, feeling a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.
Oscar suggests grabbing a coffee from a nearby café, and you agree yet again. The conversation flows more smoothly than you anticipated. It's easy and casual, and you're reminded of the times when you first met at McLaren. The awkwardness seems to have dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding of each other's worlds.
As you discuss work, life, and everything in between, you notice a genuine interest in Oscar's eyes. It's a stark contrast to the distant look he had during your internship. Maybe people can change, you think, or at least, they can show different sides of themselves.
As the coffee date comes to an end, you both stand outside the café. There's a moment of silence, and you can sense a question lingering in the air.
"Look," Oscar starts, "I know things got weird back then, and I probably should've been more upfront. I just want you to know that I genuinely enjoyed our conversations, and I'd like to keep talking, don’t… run away again, please."
You appreciate his honesty, and for a moment, you contemplate sharing your reservations. But you decide against it, choosing instead to take things one step at a time.
"I appreciate that, Oscar," you reply, offering a small smile. "But let's just see where things go."
The two of you part ways, and you can't deny the subtle warmth that lingers. Maybe, just maybe, this time around will be different. As you return to your work at Mercedes, you can't help but wonder how the next chapter of your story with Oscar will unfold.
That voice in the back of your head is screaming that Oscar is going to cause you problems, yet you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. And as much as you know you should agree, you find yourself ignoring it.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
You're not quite sure how Oscar ended up in your apartment once again, however, you can not find it in yourself to complain. Nor do you want him to leave. The smile that rests on his lips has your heart fluttering, despite your mind knowing Oscar is nothing but trouble.
The soft hum of a familiar tune plays in the background as you move around your kitchen, gathering ingredients for a simple pasta dish. Oscar sits at the small dining table, watching with genuine interest as you go about your culinary routine.
"Do you cook often?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder. "Well, I try. It's therapeutic, you know? I want to say it's cheaper, but we both know in this economy nothing is cheap."
Oscar smiles, appreciating the casual atmosphere that envelops your apartment. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes begins to fill the air as you start chopping vegetables.
"Need any help?" he offers, standing up and joining you at the counter.
You hand him a knife and a bell pepper. "How about you tackle this? Just chop it into small pieces."
Oscar nods, mimicking your chopping technique. The rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards fills the kitchen, creating a comforting melody. As you work side by side, a gentle ease settles between you.
"So," Oscar begins, breaking the silence, "what's the secret ingredient in this pasta?"
You wink playfully. "That's a trade secret. But I'll give you a hint – it starts with 'herbs.'"
He laughs, and the genuine warmth in the sound makes your heart flutter. As the vegetables sizzle in the pan, you find yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment. The soft glow of the kitchen lights, the shared laughter, and the anticipation of a homemade meal create a cocoon of tranquillity.
Once the pasta is perfectly al dente, you drain it and add it to the simmering sauce. Oscar takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the creation taking shape before him.
"Looks delicious," he remarks.
You grin, handing him a fork. "The real test is in the taste."
Together, you sit at the table, savouring each bite of the pasta. The flavours dance on your taste buds, and you can't help but appreciate the quiet joy of sharing a meal you have prepared together.
The dinner table is adorned with the remnants of the delicious pasta, and the two of you sit comfortably, basking in the warmth of shared food and easy conversation. The soft glow of the kitchen lights casts a cosy ambience.
Oscar looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. "This is really good, you know. You've got some serious cooking skills. It's even better than last time when I got to eat your leftovers."
You return the smile, appreciating the compliment. "Thanks, Oscar. I'm glad you like it."
There's a brief pause, and Oscar's expression becomes more contemplative. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," you reply, taking a sip of your drink.
Oscar hesitates for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed that things have been a bit... different between us. You seem to be, I don't know, running away or avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?"
You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "It's not that you did something wrong, Oscar. It's just that... it feels like you're set on making things complicated for me."
His brow furrows in confusion. "Complicated? What do you mean?"
You chuckle, a hint of irony in your tone. "Oscar, you're a walking enigma. You come into my life, seemingly wanting to be friends, and then there's this underlying tension, this feeling that you're here to stir up trouble."
He looks genuinely perplexed. "Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for you. I just want to get to know you better."
You meet his gaze, sincerity in your eyes. "I appreciate that, but there are moments when it feels like you're intentionally making things challenging. Like you enjoy the chaos."
Oscar leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I genuinely don't want to complicate things for you. If there's something I'm doing that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."
You sigh, realising the complexity of the situation. "Let's not dwell on it too much. It's just a feeling I get sometimes."
He seems about to press further, but you change the topic with a light laugh. "Anyway, did I tell you about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm at University? We were trying to test out this new engine, but it caught on fire. Disaster in the garage, trust me."
Oscar chuckles along, as you make a point to ignore the way he's staring at you. You can feel his eyes searching for your face for something you won't give to him. Instead, deep inside of you, you realise that little voice in your head has been quiet the entire time Oscar has been in your apartment.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
You’re neglecting your book about fluid physics as you and Oscar are talking over Facetime. The idea of going clubbing has just been tossed into the conversation, and Oscar, ever the persuader, leans closer to the camera with a playful glint in his eyes.
"Come on," he says, a charming smile playing on his lips. "Even university students need a break, you know? It's all about finding the right balance between work and play."
You raise an eyebrow, sceptical but intrigued. "Balance, huh? I do have assignments due next week."
Oscar chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "And that's precisely why you should take a break. Trust me, a night of dancing and fun is the perfect way to recharge those academic batteries. Besides, Lando and I have been planning this for ages, and it wouldn't be the same without you."
He glances towards something out of the camera's lens, you aren't sure what, yet you can sense the anticipation in his demeanour.
"I'm not sure," you admit, considering the proposition.
Oscar leans in again, adopting a more serious tone. "Look, I get it. University life can be hectic, but you deserve to have some fun too. It's not just about the grades and deadlines; it's about creating memories and enjoying the journey. Tonight, let's forget about responsibilities and just live in the moment."
His words resonate with a certain truth, and you find yourself swaying toward the idea. Still, a hint of hesitation lingers.
"I promise it won't be an all-night affair," Oscar reassures, sensing your wavering resolve. "Just a couple of hours of music, laughter, and good company. You won't regret it."
You weigh the options, glancing between Oscar's earnest expression and your open book about fluid physics. A sigh escapes you, accompanied by a smile. "Alright, fine. But just for a couple of hours."
Oscar's face lights up with triumph, and he gives you a playful wink. "That's the spirit! Trust me; you won't regret this."
The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the club as you, Oscar, and Lando immerse yourselves in the vibrant atmosphere. The dance floor is a sea of moving bodies, and the colourful lights create a kaleidoscope of patterns.
Lando, with his infectious energy, is already lost in the rhythm, leaving you and Oscar to navigate the crowded space. The bass thumps in your chest, and you sway to the music, caught up in the electrifying ambience.
Oscar, with his hand on the small of your back, guides you through the sea of dancers. The touch is subtle, but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but notice how close he is, the proximity making your senses come alive.
As the music intensifies, Oscar pulls you into a spontaneous twirl. The movement is fluid, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. The chemistry between you two on the dance floor is undeniable, a magnetic pull that defies logic.
You catch a glimpse of Lando, who's thoroughly enjoying the night, his carefree spirit infectious. But your attention keeps drifting back to Oscar – the way his body moves in sync with yours, the fleeting touches that send sparks, and the undeniable connection that lingers in the air.
Amid the chaos, you try to remind yourself of the reality. Oscar has a girlfriend, and this moment on the dance floor should be nothing more than a carefree escapade. Still, the pull between you two is undeniable, and your mind can't help but wander to places it shouldn't.
The bass drops, the lights flash, and the intensity of the music amplifies. Oscar's hands find their way to your hips, the touch sending a surge of electricity through your veins. It's intoxicating, and for a fleeting second, you forget the boundaries that should exist.
As the night unfolds, the three of you lose track of time on the dance floor. The chemistry between you and Oscar continues to spark, creating a tension that hangs in the air. Each touch, each movement, is a delicate dance on the fine line between desire and restraint.
Finally, as the music winds down, you catch your breath, the thumping beat still echoing in your ears. Lando grins, thoroughly pleased with the night's festivities, while Oscar's gaze lingers, a silent acknowledgement of the shared energy on the dance floor.
You step away, the cool air outside the club hitting you, offering a momentary respite from the heated atmosphere within. As you take a deep breath, you can't shake off the lingering sensations – Oscar's touch, the rhythmic dance, and the unspoken tension that hangs in the air.
You remind yourself once more, that you're just friends. You're just friends. You're just friends. You repeat this as your mantra.
You are not a homewrecker.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
You're engrossed in your studies at the university library, and your defence of your master's degree is around the corner. You need every moment you can get to study your thesis when a voice interrupts your concentration.
"Hey there."
You glance up, and to your utter surprise, there's Oscar standing right beside your table, a grin on his face.
"What are you doing here?" you ask, a mixture of shock and concern in your voice.
"Thought I'd surprise you," he replies casually.
You cast a wary glance around, acutely aware of the studious atmosphere in the library. "Oscar, you can't just show up here. People will talk."
He shrugs nonchalantly. "Let them talk. What's the big deal?"
You lower your voice, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "The big deal is that you're dating someone else, and it's not a great look for either of us if you're seen here."
He glances around, noticing a few curious stares. "Come on, it's not a big deal. Let's grab some coffee or something."
Despite your protests, Oscar leads you out of the library, and you can't shake off the feeling of eyes following the two of you. As you walk through the campus, people start recognising Oscar, and the camera shutters start clicking.
"Oscar, seriously. This is a bad idea," you insist, glancing nervously at the onlookers.
He brushes off your concerns. "Relax, it's just a few pictures. No one will care."
But you know better. You can already feel the whispers and stares, and you're caught in the uncomfortable spotlight of a situation you never signed up for. As you enter a nearby café, the buzzing of conversations seems to rise.
"This is not how I imagined spending my afternoon," you mutter, frustration evident in your voice.
Oscar, however, seems unfazed, ordering coffee as if everything is perfectly normal. "It's just people taking photos. It'll blow over."
You glance at the coffee cup he hands you, the whole situation feeling surreal. "Oscar, you're dating someone else. This is not fair to anyone involved."
He chuckles, dismissing your concern. "Let them speculate. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."
Despite his nonchalance, you can't shake off the unease settling in your stomach. As the two of you sit in the café, surrounded by curious glances, you realise that Oscar's surprise visit has turned into a spectacle – one that you would have preferred to avoid.
"Oscar, be honest. Why are you here?" you ask, watching his facade of nonchalance crumble.
"I missed your cooking?" he tries, but the way he winces completely gives away any chance that the lie might have worked.
"You're supposed to be, like, in the US," you say, your gaze making him squirm in his seat.
"Brazil, actually," he corrects, avoiding eye contact and glancing around at the spectacle he has unwittingly created. Phones around the two of you are noticeably pointing in your direction. "Maybe we should leave?"
"Oscar–"
He grabs your hand, tugging you along with him. Your coffee, still hot and now abandoned, sits on the table inside the store. As he leads you away from the prying eyes, you can feel a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling inside you.
"Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep pace with his hurried steps.
"Anywhere away from here. Let's find someplace quiet," he suggests the urgency in his voice betraying the fact that he recognises the magnitude of his misstep.
The two of you navigate through the campus, Oscar leading the way with a determination that seems at odds with the careless attitude he had displayed earlier. As you distance yourselves from the buzzing crowd, he finally slows down.
"I didn't think it would be this... chaotic," he admits a touch of regret in his voice.
"You didn't think? Oscar, you're dating someone else. This isn't just about me. What were you expecting?" you say, frustration lacing your words.
He looks genuinely remorseful. "I just wanted to surprise you. I didn't realise it would turn into this."
"Well, surprises come with consequences, especially when you're in the public eye," you reply, your tone firm.
Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I'm sorry."
You stop walking, forcing him to face you. "This isn't just about today. It's about everything, Oscar. You're dating someone, yet you keep showing up, making it complicated."
He looks down, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he meets your gaze. "I don't know what to say."
You take a step back, disentangling your hand from his. "Maybe it's time to figure that out. For both of our sakes."
The weight of the situation hangs in the air, and you realise that this unexpected encounter has unravelled more than just a quiet afternoon. As Oscar searches for words, you can't help but wonder how he thought this could have ever been a good idea.
“Why can't you let me be your friend?” He asks. Oscar has the audacity to ask that? As though he didn't fly across the world to surprise you on a race week.
“Because friends don't act like this, and I don't want to be a home wrecker.” You tell him, frustration bubbling in your blood as he seems to keep missing the point.
Oscar looks at you, a mix of confusion and perhaps realisation in his eyes. "Home wrecker? We're just friends hanging out."
You can't help but scoff at his apparent obliviousness. "Friends don't cause scenes, Oscar. Friends don't make grand gestures across continents when they're in a committed relationship."
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "I just wanted to see you. What's the harm in that?"
"The harm, Oscar, is that you're not being fair to anyone involved. Not to me, not to your girlfriend," you reply, your voice carrying the weight of your exasperation.
He looks at you, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "She doesn't have to know every little thing. We can just enjoy our time together."
You shake your head, feeling the need to make him understand. "It's not about keeping secrets. It's about respecting boundaries, about being honest with yourself and the people around you. I can't be a part of something that feels like it's headed for disaster."
He seems to be grappling with your words, his expression shifting between frustration and a realisation that maybe this situation isn't as casual as he thought.
“I didn't mean to complicate things,” he finally admits, a rare vulnerability in his voice.
You take a deep breath, the frustration in your blood now replaced with a sombre resolve. "Oscar, sort things out on your end. I need to focus on my studies and my life. I can't keep navigating this uncertainty."
He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't mean to make things complicated… For you."
“You keep saying that, and then… You– you do things like this.” You take a deep breath, “I'm going home, I have things to study, and you have somewhere to be across the– god, Oscar… You're supposed to be halfway across the world.”
You tighten the grab on your bag as you watch his eyes flicker over your face, before turning and walking away. Leaving him standing there.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The world is cruel, horrifically cruel in fact. Your nerves are all over as you wait outside the set of doors that's going to decide the fate of your master's degree. You're about to go defend your thesis when your phone flashes with the words.
Os🚗 is calling…
You're quick to swipe it, the last thing you need is to talk to Oscar after 2 months of silence. Especially not right now, not before you're going to defend your thesis.
Os🚗 is calling…
Flashes once more, you glance up at the clock. 15 minutes before it's your turn.
You deny the call.
Os🚗 is calling…
Fuck.
“What?” You hiss into the phone.
“I broke up with my girlfriend.” His voice is slightly chipper, as though the news is supposed to make you rejoice with glee.
“Good for you? Oscar, I don't know what to say, what do you want me to say? I don't have time for this!” You're stressed, the clock reads 14 minutes till your defence. You're pacing the floor, unable to stand still, your nerves are eating you from the inside out. You wish this could all just be over with, you need it to pass you by in an instant.
Oscar's voice on the other end remains unnervingly nonchalant, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions stirring within you. "I thought you should know. You know, in case you cared."
"Oscar, this is not the time," you snap, the urgency of the ticking clock amplifying your frustration. "I have my master's thesis defence in a few minutes, and I can't deal with this right now."
There's a brief pause on the line before Oscar continues, seemingly undeterred. "I just thought you should know since, you know, we're friends and all."
The word "friends" echoes in your ears, a reminder of the blurred lines that have caused so much turmoil in the past. You take a deep breath, attempting to centre yourself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions.
"Oscar, please. I appreciate you letting me know, but I can't handle this distraction right now. I need to focus on my defence," you plead, trying to convey the urgency of the situation.
"Right, right," Oscar says, the realisation in his tone belated. "Good luck with your defence. I'll, uh, talk to you later?"
You nod, even though he can't see it. "Later, Oscar."
As you end the call, you glance at the clock – 12 minutes left. The weight of impending judgment looms over you, but you shake off the distraction, determined to face the panel and defend your thesis with the focus it deserves. The world may be cruel, but you're not about to let it derail the culmination of your hard work and dedication.
The defence room is a blur of questions, explanations, and nods of approval. Somehow, you manage to navigate the academic minefield, answering each query with a precision that surprises even yourself. As the last question concludes, the panel members exchange satisfied glances, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. The defence is over, and you've held your ground.
Exiting the room, you're greeted by the smiles of your family, the relief in their eyes mirroring your own. You share a moment of celebration, the culmination of years of hard work and determination. The weight on your shoulders begins to lift, replaced by the joy of accomplishment.
Just as you're about to immerse yourself in the warmth of your family's congratulations, a familiar voice cuts through the air. "Congratulations!"
You turn, and there he is – Oscar, standing in the corridor, an awkward smile on his face. The shock of seeing him here, especially after the phone call just an hour ago, momentarily freezes your elation.
"Oscar, what are you doing here?" you ask, a mix of surprise and confusion in your voice.
He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. "I wanted to congratulate you. I mean, you just defended your thesis, right? That's a big deal."
Your family exchanges curious glances, and you can feel their unspoken questions. You take a deep breath, deciding to focus on the achievement at hand. "Thank you, Oscar. I appreciate that. But I'm with my family right now, and we're celebrating. Maybe we can catch up later."
His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Of course. I just wanted to say congrats. I'll see you around, then."
As Oscar walks away, you turn back to your family, their expressions a mix of understanding and concern. The elation from your successful defence is now tempered by the unexpected encounter with Oscar. You push the lingering questions to the back of your mind, choosing to savour the joy of the moment with those who have been with you through thick and thin.
Your dinner out with your family is nice, but your mind is solely on Oscar. You didn't know he was in town, not that you wanted to know when he was. A headache works its way through your head, as you put on a smile and cheer with your parents and siblings. Brushing off questions about the cute guy who came to congratulate you, forcing you to call him a friend. That stupid word still doesn't sit right in your mouth, it never does when it comes to Oscar.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
You find yourself unable to think about anything but yesterday, your phone is in your hand as Oscar’s contact is pulled up. Why did he call you about breaking up with his girlfriend? Why did he then show up? What did he expect you to do? To say? To… You’re frustrated, pacing the floor once again, as you can’t figure out whether or not you should call him. Instead, the universe seems to decide for you, as his contact flashes on your phone, mirroring yesterday.
Os🚗 is calling…
You stare at the screen, contemplating whether to answer or not. The events of the past 24 hours have left you emotionally drained, and you're not sure if you have the energy to navigate through another conversation with Oscar. However, a part of you, perhaps against your better judgement, decides to answer.
"What now, Oscar?" you answer, your tone a mix of exhaustion and frustration.
"Hey," his voice sounds through the phone, and you can almost picture the casual smile he might be wearing.
"What do you want?" you ask bluntly, not in the mood for small talk.
"I just wanted to check in. You know, after your defence and all," he replies, feigning innocence.
"Save it, Oscar. I don't need your checking in," you snap, the irritation is evident in your voice. "What happened yesterday was unnecessary. I was celebrating with my family, and you just had to insert yourself into the moment."
There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before he speaks, his voice carrying a sincerity that catches you off guard. "I genuinely wanted to congratulate you. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
"Well, you did," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. "And I don't need your congratulations. I need you to respect my boundaries."
Another pause follows, and when Oscar finally speaks, his tone is more subdued. "I get it. I messed up. I'm sorry."
Sorry. It's a word you've heard from him before, and each time it feels less convincing. You take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. "Oscar, I don't know what you expect from me, but we can't keep doing this."
"I know, I know," he says, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to associate with his moments of frustration. "I just... I thought we were friends, and I wanted to be there for you."
You let out a bitter laugh. "Friends? Oscar, friends don't complicate each other's lives like this. We've been through this before. I can't keep playing this game with you."
There's a heavy silence, and you wonder if he's even listening or if he's already moved on to the next distraction. Finally, he speaks, his voice softer. "Then let me be more…"
"Oscar, let me be clear," you assert, the frustration evident in your voice. "I need you to get your shit together. This constant back-and-forth, the unexpected appearances, it's not fair to anyone involved, especially not to me. Figure out what you want, sort out your own life, and maybe then we can talk about what 'more' means."
His silence hangs on the line, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. This is a conversation long overdue, and the weight of the words you're about to say carries a gravity you can't ignore.
“But once you do…” You are already regretting the next words you are to speak. "I will not wait around for you, but... But I wouldn't be completely opposed to finding out whatever ‘more' means."
“Okay, okay I can do that.” Oscar sounds, not happy, but rather optimistic and hopeful. “Do you think you would want to… Maybe let me cook for once?”
“Yeah…” You breathe out, “I think I would like that.”
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The hum of machinery fills the air as you make your way through the bustling Mercedes factory, a stark contrast to the chaotic world you left behind. The engineering department is your sanctuary, a place where the precision of machines and the logic of design bring a sense of order to your life.
You sit at your desk, surrounded by schematics and blueprints, immersing yourself in the intricate details of your work. The rhythm of your routine is comforting, and you've come to appreciate the stability your job offers. As a mechanical engineer, your skills find their purpose in the assembly and improvement of high-performance engines, a far cry from the unpredictable whirlwind that was Oscar Piastri.
Today, a new intern, Gabbie, has joined the team, bringing with her a fresh enthusiasm that seems almost infectious. She approaches your desk, curiosity written all over her face.
"Hey there! I heard you're one of the seasoned engineers around here. Mind if I pick your brain a bit?" Gabbie asks, her eyes wide with excitement.
You offer a friendly smile, welcoming the chance for a break from the monotony. "Sure, what's on your mind?"
Gabbie hesitates for a moment before blurting out, "Oscar Piastri! Do you know him? The McLaren driver?"
Your eyes narrow slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected mention of Oscar in this professional setting. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"
Gabbie grins, oblivious to any subtleties. "I heard he's a pretty cool guy. You know, being a Formula 1 driver and all. Any interesting stories or insights about him?"
You take a deep breath, contemplating how to navigate this conversation without delving into the complexities of your history with Oscar. "Well, he's certainly talented on the track. As for stories, you might want to focus on the engineering marvels we're creating here. That's where the real excitement is."
Gabbie seems undeterred, pushing for more details. "Come on, there must be something. What's he like in person? Is he as cool as he seems on TV?"
You lean back in your chair, trying to redirect the conversation. "Look, we're here to work on groundbreaking technology and push the limits of performance. If you want insights into the world of Formula 1, maybe you should visit a race or something. But around here, let's focus on the engineering challenges ahead of us."
Gabbie, slightly disappointed but still eager, nods and scurries off, likely in search of a more willing source of gossip. You return to your work, the hum of the factory providing a comforting backdrop.
As you refocus on your work, another colleague, Tom, strolls over, his friendly demeanour evident. He glances at Gabbie retreating in the distance and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.
"What was that all about?" Tom asks, nodding towards Gabbie's disappearing figure.
You can't help but smile, the memory of Oscar and the whirlwind of emotions he brings resurfacing. "Oh, she just wanted to know something about a friend of mine."
Tom chuckles, sensing there's more beneath the surface. "Friend, huh? Spill the details. You've got that mysterious smile on your face."
You shake your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "Nothing scandalous, just Oscar she's curious about. You know how people get star-struck."
“Ah, Piastri, right? I forgot you know him.” Tom laughs, "Well, since you mentioned that you're friends with an F1 driver, you've got to share some perks with the rest of us, right?"
“Shut up Tom,” you roll your eyes at him, as he wiggles his eyebrows. “What did you drop by for anyways?”
He waves his iPad in the air. “I got the analytical data back from the stress test, and I need you to go over it before this afternoon.”
Your thoughts of Oscars are washed away in an array of statistics and equations.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
Despite not being on the best speaking terms with Oscar for the moment, you truly can’t seem to escape him. Twitter has become obsessed with a recent interview with Oscar. You try not to follow his life through the media, an attempt to respect him enough to let him tell you what he wants you to know about him. That said, sometimes the internet makes that an impossible feat.
In the interview clip circulating on Twitter, Oscar sits comfortably in the studio, a backdrop of sponsor logos and racing memorabilia behind him. The interviewer, armed with a charismatic smile, delves into various aspects of Oscar's life, from his recent races to his off-track interests.
As you scroll through the snippets, you can't deny the pang of curiosity that tugs at you. The dichotomy between the Oscar you know personally and the one presented to the world through interviews is stark. It's a reminder of the deliberate distance he maintains, carefully navigating the narrative of his public persona.
The interviewer grins, steering the conversation towards personal anecdotes. "And what about love, Oscar? Any new special someone in your life?"
Oscar squirms in his seat, as a blush spreads across his face. “Well…” His eyes flicker around the room. “No, not recently.”
“Oh really? That’s a surprise, you’re otherwise known for changing it up quite a bit.” The interviewer winks, as though that statement wasn’t wildly inappropriate.
Oscar chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. "Yeah, well, I've had my fair share of changes. But, you see, there's someone… someone I've known for a long time. And, uh, I guess I messed up. Big time."
The interviewer leans forward, sensing a potential scoop. "Care to share more about this mystery person?"
Oscar hesitates, glancing at his hands for a moment before meeting the interviewer's gaze. "We've been through a lot together. I've known her for years, and I can honestly say she's the one who knows me best. But, you know, life happens, and I've hurt her more than I care to admit."
The revelation hangs in the air, leaving an unspoken weight. Your heart skips a beat as the pieces click into place. The cryptic words, the veiled references – it's about you. The interview, unbeknownst to the public, has become a confessional, a subtle admission of guilt and remorse.
The interviewer, sensing the delicacy of the situation, shifts gears. "It sounds like a complicated story. Do you think there's a chance for reconciliation?"
Oscar's gaze falters, a mixture of regret and uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know. I hope so. But I've got a lot to figure out, and it might be too late."
The vulnerability in his admission is palpable, and the internet, now buzzing with speculation, picks up on the emotional depth of Oscar's words. As you close the app, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, surprise, sadness, and an unexpected twinge of hope as your phone pings with a text message.
Os🚗: Don’t open Twitter.
You: Good morning to you too
Os🚗: I’m serious.
Os🚗: Remember that old picture from a few years ago?
You: What picture?
Os🚗: When I ran into you, and we both ended up on the ground, that one.
You snort, you absolutely remember both the picture and that day.
Os🚗: I gave an interview, and I might have mentioned you by accident?
You: You don’t sound sure
Os🚗 is calling…
You’re quick to accept the call, as you twirl your coffee. A long day of work ahead of you, and now a mess that Oscar has apparently dragged you into it seems.
“Okay, so I just wanted the interviewer to change the questions, and I mentioned you, and I’m sorry, and then someone started digging online, and that you’ve been around me for years, and that stupid picture from back then got dug up, and someone else then found out that you’re still working for Mercedes, and please let me pick you up Friday?” All the words come rushing out of Oscar's mouth at once.
“I’m sorry what?” Your head is already spinning.
“Go out with me,” Oscar repeats. “Friday, I’ll pick you up.”
“Yeah, okay, okay, okay, I got that part. Now back up. What about the rest?” You suck in a deep breath, as you prepare yourself for what the hell Oscar just said.
Oscar takes a moment to gather his thoughts, realising he might have split too much in a rush of anxiety. "Look, I messed up during the interview. I didn't mean to bring you into it, but then people started connecting the dots, and now it's all over social media. I didn't want you to be dragged into this mess, especially considering everything."
"Considering everything? Oscar, what did you say?" Your tone edges towards frustration. “I saw a few clips on Twitter.”
“I thought I said not to – never mind.” He sighs, "I might have hinted that you're someone important to me and that I've messed things up with you. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and I'm genuinely sorry for bringing you into it without your consent."
Your mind races, both with irritation at the situation and a surprising warmth at Oscar's unexpected admission. "Okay, I appreciate the apology, but fuck, I don’t need my job jeopardised because of something online. What if someone reaches out, I mean my supervisor is already not ecstatic about the fact that I’m good friends with you. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m dating you.”
“But –” Oscar starts before you cut him off.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” You tell him.
“So you’ll let me take you out on Friday?” He asks, anticipation hanging in the air, a soft smile on your lips. One he can’t see, and one you would not admit to if he were to ask.
“Yeah, yeah…” You breathe out, “I want you to bring the ugliest bouquet of flowers though, that’s the only thing I ask of you.”
“The ugliest?”
You hum in approval. “We’ll figure out the rest later, I have to get back to work before I get too far behind on my assignments for today.”
“I’ll text you the details,” Oscar says before hanging up, you keep the phone against your chin as you take a long slurp of your coffee. You can’t believe you actually agreed to go out with him, especially in the middle of the mess he has just created.
Oscar drives you insane, and it seems to be in the best way possible. You smile as you finally put away your phone and start up on your first assignment of the day.
◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦
The anticipation builds as you wait outside, glancing at your watch and then at the passing cars. It's Friday evening, and Oscar is supposed to pick you up. Your attire is casual, as per his instructions, but you can't shake off the lingering nervousness and excitement.
Finally, you spot his distinctive car approaching, the engine's low growl hinting at its power. Oscar pulls up with a confident smile, and you can't help but notice how his presence seems to fill the space around him.
He steps out of the car, wearing a simple yet stylish outfit. "Hey," he greets you, his eyes reflecting a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.
"Hey," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nice car."
Oscar grins, clearly proud of his choice. "Thanks. Ready for an adventure?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Is this going to be an adventure?"
He chuckles. "Well, let's just say, it's a night of surprises."
As you get into the car, you can't help but wonder what exactly Oscar has planned. The tension in the air is palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and the promise of something new. The drive is filled with light banter, both of you carefully avoiding the elephant in the room – the mess created by Oscar's interview.
The car pulls to a night school, you look over at Oscar, a smile on his lips. Secrecy in his eyes, as he’s quickly out of his door. Walking around the car to help you out of it, a hand in yours.
“I promised I would cook for you,” he reminds you, as he leads you through the hallways of the school, before reaching the kitchen, “except I would like for it to be edible, so I got us into a cooking class.”
He opens the door, and two other couples are already inside the kitchen, including what you’re guessing is going to be your teacher.
“Oscar Piastri,” He tells the teacher, who notes it down before remarking on there still being a couple missing. She points you and Oscar to stand at the front right kitchen island.
“You’re so stupid.” You whisper to him, as he eagerly drags you over to the island. Helping you get your apron on.
He leans in, his breath hot on your neck as he’s tying your apron. “You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”
As the class begins, you find yourselves surrounded by the aromas of various ingredients and the lively chatter of the other couples. Oscar seems surprisingly excited about the cooking class, and you can't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm.
The teacher, a seasoned chef with a no-nonsense attitude, introduces the menu for the evening – a complex dish that involves a delicate balance of flavours and precise techniques. As the instructions are given, you exchange glances with Oscar, both of you silently agreeing to tackle this challenge together.
Oscar takes charge of the first step, expertly handling the knife as he chops vegetables with precision. You observe his focused expression, the playful glint in his eyes occasionally surfacing. The air between you carries a comfortable warmth, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions.
As you work side by side, the occasional laughter and banter with the other couples create a communal atmosphere in the kitchen. You can't help but be grateful for the distraction – the opportunity to focus on something other than the complexities of your relationship with Oscar.
The cooking process unfolds smoothly, and soon, the kitchen is filled with the enticing aroma of the dish coming together. Oscar steals a moment to glance at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are we doing so far?"
You return the smile, genuinely enjoying the experience. "Surprisingly well, considering your questionable reputation in the kitchen."
He mockingly gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, right in the culinary skills."
The teacher makes her rounds, offering guidance and checking on each couple's progress. As she approaches you and Oscar, you brace yourself for scrutiny. To your surprise, she nods approvingly. "You two seem to have a good handle on things. Impressive."
You share a triumphant look with Oscar, the sense of accomplishment strengthening the connection between you. The dish is finally plated, and the class gathers to taste each other's creations. The blend of flavours is exquisite, a testament to the collective effort of the participants.
With the cooking portion complete, the teacher commends the class and invites everyone to enjoy the fruits of their labour. You and Oscar find a quiet corner, plates in hand, and sit together.
As you take the first bite, the rich flavours dance on your palate. Oscar watches you, anticipation in his eyes. You meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgement passing between you. Despite the chaos and unexpected twists, this evening has become a shared memory, a moment of unity amidst the complexities of life.
"So," Oscar begins, breaking the comfortable silence, "how would you rate my cooking skills?"
You savour another bite before responding with a playful grin. "I'll give you a solid eight out of ten. Surprisingly, you didn't burn anything."
He feigns offence, but the smile on his lips betrays him.
You lift your fork to let him taste a part of the elderly couple’s dish. You expect Oscar to take your fork. Instead, he leans in, keeping eye contact with you, as he eats from your fork. Your breath hitches, and his eyes are staring into yours intensely. Warmth spreads from your neck and up. Then he pulls back, finally chewing on the food.
He uses the back of his hand to dry off his mouth, still keeping his eyes locked with yours, as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “That was delicious.”
A sudden shyness overtakes you, as you look away. Why did he…?
Then the teacher claps her hands, telling everyone it’s time to start doing the dishes, and your small intimate moment is broken and forgotten as Oscar springs to his feet. Already holding his hand out to help you up, no need for you to tell him this time.
The scene replaying in your mind as you’re going through the motions of washing up, it’s still fresh on your mind as Oscar is thanking the teacher for the great lesson. Even when he slides his hand into yours, and you walk out to his car.
He once again opens the door for you, helping you get into the car.
“Oh, before I forget.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts completely as a bouquet of the ugliest flowers you’ve ever seen is presented in front of you. Oscar smiles proudly at you, happy that he has taken you by surprise.
“I didn’t…” You trail off. The flowers are horrendous to look at, an absolute horror show in floral form. “They’re hideous.”
“Just like you asked.” He finally slips into the driver's seat, smiling at you, waiting patiently for a bit of praise, as you can’t seem to find the right words to describe the warm feelings inside of your heart.
“Thank you.” You settle on, “Thank you, Oscar. You did good… You are good.”
You look over at him, and the flowers in your hands are quickly abandoned and forgotten, when his face is right there. You place your hands gently on each of his cheeks. He leans in close to you, placing his own hand on your cheek. You close your eyes, as his lips finally meet yours.
The car falls away, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the taste of rich food lingering on your lips. His lips move against yours with a tender rhythm, a silent language conveying emotions that words have struggled to express.
His hand, warm against your cheek, sends a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your grip on his cheeks, deepening the kiss. The connection is familiar yet different, a blend of shared history and the uncharted territory of something new.
Time seems to stretch, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips, the warmth of his touch. It's a kiss that holds the weight of unspoken apologies and the promise of something more. At that moment, the complications and uncertainties fade into the background, leaving only the raw, honest emotion exchanged between two people on the precipice of change.
As the kiss finally breaks, you find yourself breathless, a silent understanding passing between you. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, the vulnerability mirrored in both your expressions. There's a question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air, waiting for acknowledgement.
The taste of the kiss lingers, the sweet aftertaste of a decision made, of boundaries crossed. It's a moment suspended in time, a threshold crossed, and you can't help but wonder where this unexpected journey with Oscar might lead.
"Wow," he breathes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "That was..."
You finish his sentence with a soft smile. "Unexpected?"
He chuckles a sound that resonates with shared joy. "Yeah, unexpected. But good. Very, very good."
The shared laughter dispels any remaining tension, replaced by a newfound ease. As you sit there, still holding each other's gaze, you realise that the evening has become a turning point. The kitchen adventure, the banter, and now this shared kiss – it's a series of moments that have rewritten the script between you and Oscar.
The reality of the situation lingers in the air, but instead of feeling weighed down, you find a sense of lightness, a subtle shift in the atmosphere between you two. The kiss becomes a symbol, a bridge between the past and a future that holds the promise of understanding and growth.
With a contented smile, you break the silence. "Well, I guess we've officially moved past the 'friends' territory."
Oscar grins, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Yeah, we have. And I'm looking forward to wherever this takes us."
Your worries about your supervisor and what it might mean for your job at Mercedes fade away as Oscar leans in again, capturing your lips once more. You can get used to this.
Oscar might be someone who only brings chaos and problems into your life, but you’re all too prepared to deal with that now. Willing to deal with it all, and happy to have him by your side as you do.
⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, shout out to @pucksandpower for making me not kill Oscar, and for them to actually end up together. Also my beta readers Fari and @thisismeracing for editing this.
#Oscar Piastri#Oscar Piastri x reader#f1#f1 x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#formula 1#op81#Oscar piastri imagine#f1 fanfic#Oscar piastri x you#Oscar piastri fic#Oscar piastri fluff#f1 fandom#f1 fic#f1 x you#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fluff#delias own writing
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When you first meet them
Haruka Sakura
The memories of him spiralled in your mind effortlessly, it's like he managed to implant a part of himself in your head so you'd never forget about him, even if your ex-boyfriend had dumped you for good.
Your body leaned on the railing of the balcony of your home, you wished it all went away, as tears began escaping your eyes and fall down to the concrete ground.
"Huh? Is it raining?" A voice peered out from underneath your feet. Blinking away you immediately shot your eyes out to the bottom. It was late at night and you didn't understand who in the world would be out this late.
A boy with white and black divided hair raised his head up to the sky wondering what those droplets of water had fell onto the peak of his head. He continued humming until he was now staring into the eyes of a random girl making him jump harshly.
"Ah? ...Huh?" He blinked this time making the girl wipe her face confused at why he remained speaking with her.
"Why're you, crying?" He asked.
Suddenly, she blinked away, is this boy really dense? "...I don't know...?" She said back awkwardly. The two stared at each other. She had never encountered this type of situation like this ever in her life. He looked away unsure what to say.
"Well, just... don't, I guess."
You then laughed at how random his solution was which causing him to look back at you in surprise that he managed to uplift your mood without even trying.
After that, you bumped into him the next day.
Hajime Umemiya
Being a transfer student to the school of many delinquents caught many people's attention of the townsfolk causing you to be the most popular talk for a while before you even moved.
Submitting your application form and moving into a secluded area of the town, people didn't come to acknowledge your whereabouts having been so hectic is the Main Street where everyone knew each other. The reason why you transferred to a delinquent school was purely for punishment, after riddling yourself up in a hefty amount of fights at your old school, your parents had enough and sent you away from abroad with your grandparents, what they didn't understand is that you were fighting for justice, not for the enjoyment.
When Umemiya began reading your application, he noticed you purposely or accidentally left your gender blank (you did it on purpose to hide your sex of being a female for the courtesy of the male dominated school), he tried doing a background check on you but nothing helpful appeared for him, and seeing that your application was pretty much legit, he accepted it without much thought, Hiragi had yelled at him but Umemiya only argued back that, "They look like a good person, even if they so happen to become a threat, I'll stop them personally."
The short-tempered man downed stomach pills while saying profanities to himself. After a week had gone by, you were instructed to meet the Top person on the school roof. Since you knew you were now in a fighting school, you were ready for anything but once you got up there, the least you were expecting was a man covered in dirt planting tomatoes and then inviting you to come join him.
He ended up introducing himself and finally took a better look at you, you wore the boys uniform but your physique was still slimmer and toned than his, and right off the bat, he noticed how your face had very feminine features, it almost like you weren't a guy.
And he knew immediately.
"Hajime Umemiya." He raised out his right hand while his left lazily rested on the side of his hip. The edges of his face were dusted with dirt, the white shirt he wore was stained with the brown pebbles colour, and his pants seemed worn out in certain areas.
Hesitantly, you took his hand as he gave you a handshake nearly getting you off your feet.
"I'm already aware of your name, [Last Name] correct?" He smiled warmly. You nodded to ensure him without saying a word till he motioned you to where the numerous plants in large rows of boxes grew in.
"I recommend you to roll up your sleeves, we're going to be here for a while." He turned back at the last second catching you off guard with his cheeky smile. You weren't sure what he was referring about until you spent your first few hours in Bofurin getting to know him.
He eventually told you he knew, you panicked, but thankfully, he promised to keep it a secret.
Toma Hiragi
The constant nitpicking of a ghastly woman kept on his trail which made him want to disappear in plain sight whenever you caught him outside of Bofurin. A week ago, Toma had saved you from a gang threatening you for months. You became their dog, giving them your money, getting them things they asked for, and staying with them if it meant they wouldn't hurt your friends and family. When Hiragi and his second in command took it upon themselves to free you, it turned into a whole fight leading you to get involved with the school, and most importantly, your saviour was non other than the shining knight in armour, Toma.
It was late at night after walking back from going to one of the gangs party they made you go to along with the rest of them, inside the gathering, the only reason why the gang made you come was for you to be their entertainment purpose. They made you wear certain things, say specific comments, and by the end of the night, they let you go after pouring the large pint of juice on your head. Your feet clanked against the cold ground, dressed ridiculously in a torn up shirt, the pants you wore were ripped to pieces, numerous holes, and scratches found air touching the flesh of your legs.
It was embarrassing to live like this but you couldn't do anything. You refused to turn back home so instead you find yourself sitting on a swing alone at the playground, barely any lights flowed in the area and the silence was your only friend. Your head hung low, looking at the holes in your shoes, they gang had made you dress up as a homeless person and made you beg them for food and money as if you were a poor commoner. The memories from the event made you shut your eyes tighter, and hung your body low on the swing set, wishing it would all just come to an end.
"...Please, help me." Your voice whispered out barely forming the words you said.
The sudden footsteps startled your mood causing you to shoot your head back up and look at the person who began making their way up to you. The darkness shadowed the mysterious person, scaring your nerves. Was it someone from the gang? Was it your friends? Was it your Mother or Father? You didn't know, and you could only wait in silence like a stray kitten unaware of any survival skills.
Your eyes remained focused on the being till he filled your vision. It wasn't a gang member nor anyone you knew, but yet, it was an old teenage boy in a schools uniform holding a bag of groceries in his left hand. The two of you maintained eye contact with each other, his eyes lingered over your body, not menacingly like how the men in the gang did, but worriedly at your state.
Finally, his cold hazel eyes shot back to yours making you slightly jump, "You called for help, didn't you?" He started making you blink, "Tell me, what happened to you?"
You blinked once more at him, nearly finding shock and unknown feelings you haven't had in a very long time, "Uh...h." Your voice strained itself, unsure if you should feel threatened by his hard persona but his kind personality.
Slowly, he began walking closer to you till he was face to face with you body. You looked back at him, gawking at his height till he finally crouched down to the ground, his groceries hitting the sand as you stared back at him clutching your arms together even tighter. The short spiky blonde-hair and the way his eyes stared back into yours softly made you rethink a lil your earlier assumptions on you.
"Tell me, what happened to you?" He asked again, this time softly.
Ren Kaji
You two were young too understand that your rivalry would only last till you eventually grew older and finally had some piece of mind to give each other space. From the very start, you two were first introduced to each other after being in the same class. No one quite understood why you had no friends but still didn't bother to commend their efforts in getting to know you, but it was fine in your opinion, especially when the entire class knew about your competitiveness with the hot headed boy in the class, Kaji.
It was years ago since the two of you first met, the moment he finally broke you out of your shell and realized how much of a nuisance you were, he left, expecting you to do the same. But with the bitterness of your heart and head, you let it get the best of you till unexpectedly and constantly began to one up him. It became so normalized in the classroom that even the teacher was aware of the both of your nitpicking at each other. Almost every single day in pre school, the both of you were seen arguing and fighting over whatever till you never showed up to class ever again one day.
Before you moved, Kaji and you had gotten into your first ever physical fight. It was after losing your most precious bracelet, you had blamed the black-haired boy at the time for stealing it. You spoke to no one other than him so it was only reasonable for you to assume that. The boy ultimately defended himself.
"I didn't take it!"
"Yes you did!"
Soon after, you physically reached into any of his pockets trying to find it but he kept pushing you away. It continued till the both of you had forgotten about it and came to a point where now the both of you were just fighting.
The teacher had spotted the both of you fighting after the class began surrounding the two of you wrestling each other on the dirt. Both of you had bruises, clothing ruined, ripped up and dirtied. But for the first time, when Kaji looked back over to you for the last time, you had been crying.
After that, you never returned again.
It wasn't until years had flew by, Kaji was now in second-year of Highschool attending Bofurin until he heard the news that a new family was moving right beside his apartment complex.
He didn't think much of it for a while until it was late at night and he finally returned back home, the both of you stood face to face with each other in shock.
The image of you holding groceries in your hands while boxes outside of your complex continued unpacked stood at the side of your doorstep made him now finally become interested in the family moving in next to his.
"You are..." His voice widowed out making him nearly drop your groceries. The image of the different colour in his hair, his headphones resting around his neck while the key to his apartment rested in his hand.
"[First name]?"
"Ren?"
Taiga Tsugeura
Walking towards your school, you fingers clattered over the text box, telling your Mother what you ate before breakfast annoyed that you already told her right before you left but it seems like she had forgotten again. Not paying to your surroundings, right when you turned to the corner, the only thing you were face to face with was a big wall nearly deflecting you as your forehead crashed onto the hard cushioning.
Cushioning?
The phone in your hand crashed onto the floor as another clanking noise was heard.
"Tsugeura! I told you to watch where you're going!" An unknown voice called behind the thing you bumped into. Your hand kept on your forehead, wincing at the pain that seemed to fade away rather quickly. Usually, bumping your head on a wall would take a while for the pain to go away, this time, it was a quick and short feeling? You didn't understand what was going on until you opened your eyes back up. In front of you stood a large orange-haired man, his white headband keeping his frizzy hair in place. He stared back at you in silence while your facial expression stared back in fear.
"Um, hello—"
"YAAA!" The dreading scream caused the other males behind the large boy to jump up as well.
The man presumably called Tsugeura slightly winced his eyes out of confusion.
The image of an extremely well defined teenage boy wearing a tang top underneath his unbuttoned uniform shirt scared you shitless. His pants were rolled up, showing off the pure muscle in his calves accompanied by its his plain flip flops and wrist bands. Needless to say, you automatically assumed he was a delinquent ready to beat you up for bumping into him.
Instantly, you backed up meters away from him, putting both your fists up in a defensive manner, "A b-b-bad guy!" You continued to yell causing the orange-haired man to twist his head in confusion until he noticed your fighting position, he didn't understand what was happening till his eyes focused on the way your fists and hands were up. In a split second he smiled happily before raising his fists up in the air as well.
"Wow, would you like to challenge me to a due—!? GHHK!"
Behind him, a startled-blonde haired student and a pink-haired boy with numerous piercings on his face had punched the back of the large boys head making you gawk at the sight. Your eyes blinked continuously as you heart rate began to slow down, in front of you, the orange-haired man that was once facing off you had started to get scolded by all of the people around him which you assumed was his friends. Soon after, a man with an eyepatch and exquisite earrings approached you with a kind smile while holding out your phone for you to retrieve.
"I apologize on behalf of his behaviour, we didn't mean any harm when accidentally bumping in to you, and here's your phone." He smiled with his eyes closed. Still trying to process what was happening, the background noises of the Tsugeura getting scolded by all of them, you took back your phone from the same boy who wore the exact uniform as the rest of them walked away to where the orange-haired man was getting jumped. All of them calmed down by his presence and from what you saw, the eyepatch boy whispered something in his ear before looking back at you smiling. By now, your heart slowed down as you watched the muscular teenager approach you sturdily.
Once he was face to face with you, you looked back at him with an unsure face until he suddenly bowed down causing a gust of wind to flush your face.
"Forgive me! I wasn't watching where I was going and immediately thought you wanted to fight even though you were scared!" He shouted out loud causing you to blink repeatedly at his apology. He then stood back up, placing his face extremely close to yours at what seemed like an uncomfortable position. He was waiting for your response.
After a few seconds of keeping eye contact with him, you blinked away before you spoke, "It's, okay. I apologize too." You admitted, this time he was surprised, he stood back up as he watched you gently bow down, "Forgive me for yelling at you and assuming you were a bad guy."
Once you got back up, you realized he continued staring at you with no shame or remorse causing you to grow shy, the others had taken note of this and began looking back at each other to see if the other knew what was happening. They didn't.
Suddenly, the boy in front of you spoke out again, "Hey.... you're, pretty cute?" He said almost as if he was questioning how good you looked.
Instantly, the time seemed to pause as silence overshadowed the group behind him while you remained in shock, did a random Highschool boy just compliment you?
"C-can I have your number??!!" He asked sparing no time which made you and the others jump even higher.
Mitsuki Kiryu
The face of the numerous piercing plastered on his face made you nearly want to jump out of your position. Not to mention his long dyed pink hair, accompanied with the rugged clothing and the fact he was wearing a uniform from the school of delinquents made you even regret ever deciding to take his request of looking for a tutor.
The two of you had met in a library for the first time as an introduction, all you knew he was about your age, possibly a little younger due to the fact you were just a year higher than him. Even so, why is a mere first year student even allowing you run in your mind in circles trying to figure out if he was going to turn you tutor sessions into just harassment sessions.
He sat in the seat in front of you with his cat-like smile, "I apologize for the wait, I was caught up in a fight earlier." He said ever too happily. He continued on to question you but your thoughts began running wild.
'Fight! That must mean he was fighting with somebody?! How would one even get caught up in that situation? Was he just bothering someone for fun? Perhaps they bumped into him which aggravated him! Then he must have took them by the collar and shoved them to a wall anD THEN HE—!'
"...Are you okay...?" He asked.
Your eyes blinked, making eye contact with him. That's when you noticed his eyes were the exact same shade of emerald green.
"Green."
Silence overfilled the two of you as he sat there awkwardly.
"...What?" He stifled a laugh causing you to finally understand what you had just said.
The heat began rushing to your cheeks as your eyes widened as far as they could go before he began to speak out once again.
"My name is Mitsuki Kiryu. I'm hoping your actual name isn't Green..." His laugh had peeked out again.
That's when you realized he had initially asked you for your name.
Hayato Suo
You hated being graceful, you hated being a well kept women otherwise, it would be lady-like. You hated it all. So when your Mother had introduced you to her friend's son at a very young age, the both of you were the exact opposites of each other.
He always wanted to stay inside and read books about mythical stories about Chinese culture while you on the other hand had always wanted to play outside in the grass to make mud pies. The two of you never disliked each other, in fact, you got quite along during your youthful days. Both of your Mother's had decided to place you in the same elementary school, having done that, the both of you always grew along side each other. To others, your relationship to others was viewed as the impossible, none of them could figure out how the both of you were able to tolerate one another.
And yet, you never got into serious fights.
It wasn't up till secondary-school where your Mother found out that Suo wanted to attend a delinquent school. She didn't dare to place you there so that was when you continued to follow up in a nearby Highschool. Even though you two were separated, the both of you continued to make time for each other, and once his friends from his school had spotted the both of you hanging out on the weekend lead Nirei spread the information quickly.
#windbreaker#wind breaker#haruka sakura#haruka sakura x reader#hajime Umemiya#toma hiragi#ren kaji#taiga tsugeura#mitsuki kiryu#hayato suo#jo togame#tomiyama choji#hajime umemiya x reader#windbreakerxreader#wind breaker x reader
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{ 134 }
drugstore perfume.
peter parker x fem.reader
notes: post no way home.
{ gone, today | i might just see you around | it hurts but i understand | if you can't find another reason not to stay }
there was a cute guy that often stopped by your diner, exuding a type of loneliness that kept you achingly captivated.
he orders simple meals, often opting for a lighter meal consisting of a simple sandwich with a bowl of whatever the soup of the day was. with your workplace being a diner that remained opened for 24 hours, for once, you were happy that your usual shift was the graveyard shift.
without fail, he would come in around 2 to 3am, wearing a hoodie with unexplained cuts and bruises dotting his skin. and despite the minor injuries that were kept sustained against his face, it didn't do much to mar his soft and gorgeous features.
each time you would serve him, he would give you that same, sad smile. his kind eyes always appeared grateful before digging into his meal, yet it was clear that he was keeping many parts of himself hidden from you.
you had a sense that... that there was so much more to him than meets the eye.
why was it that every time he would enter the diner, he was covered in fading bruises?
why was he always alone, never once coming into the diner with a friend or family member?
and why did you have this inexplicable urge to comfort him each time he would gaze out the diner's window, his unblinking gaze staring at the cityscape with some unknown emotion you could never quite place.
you wanted to get closer to him-
to find out all the mysteries he had to offer.
and you were finally going to do something about it.
it was like you had become so accustomed to his presence, with you getting ready for work each night whilst sporting a gentle smile on your face. once your uniform was on, you step out of your apartment and began your trek towards the diner, your strides having a bit of the bounce to them.
your walk to work was uneventful (as per usual), with you clocking right at 10pm, ready to relieve your coworker of her shift as you take her place, taking on orders for the new patrons that surrounded the diner.
you kept busy, doing your best to not look at the clock as the hours ticked by, your heart practically pounding as it neared 2am. as if responding to the late hours, the amount of customers you served began to dwindle down, leaving you alone with the cook as the diner was now empty.
with a hum, you begin wiping down the tables, eyes trailing over to the clock once more, seeing that the time read 2:05 when you hear the sounds of a door opening.
you look back to see him, flashing you a sheepish smile as his brown eyes met with your welcoming gaze. he spends a few seconds admiring you, shaking his head while fighting back a blush. a cough was heard coming from him before he looks away from you.
walking with a comfortable pace, you allow yourself to stand next to him, brushing back your hair while taking out your pad and pen.
"hey peter, your bruise looks a lot better today."
you greet him by stating his first name, shivering a bit when he lets out a hum in response. those gentle vibrations heard coming from him was enough to make your knees a little weak for him.
"uh, thanks... i told you before that i can heal pretty well."
you nod and meet his gaze, your smile kind and genuine. "what can i get for you?"
"what's the soup of the day?"
"tomato bisque."
"then i'll take a grilled cheese, with some coffee, please."
"got it, peter."
you felt yourself smiling when you turn away from peter, already replaying the interaction you just had with him within your mind. he was just so sweet, and you felt your desires to get to know him growing in response.
you linger against the cooking area, waiting by the window for the cook to finish making peter's order. paul looks at you while toasting up the bread on his grill.
"what's this about? you hardly linger close to me when i'm trying to work." paul lets out a grunt before placing the cheese on top of the slices, combining them together into the perfect grilled cheese.
"i know i know, but... this guy's special to me." you admit to the cook with a whisper, a familiar heat felt against your cheeks. "so i was wondering... could you make me a sandwich, too? just so i can talk to him a bit?"
paul lets out another grunt, "don't see why not. we ain't busy or anythin' so sure. get your boy, then."
you can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks as you waited for paul to finish. within the next 10 minutes, he places both of your orders on a tray while giving you a wink. you smile brightly at him, taking the food while making your way towards peter's table.
peter looks away from his phone, setting it off to the side as you caught a glimpse of the news article he was reading.
SPIDER-MAN STRIKES AGAIN! STOPPING AN ARMED ROBBERY AT THE FIRST AMERICA BANK!!
"here's your order pete. and oh? i didn't peg you to be a fan of spider-man."
your voice was casual as you sit across from him with your own grilled cheese and tomato bisque soup. peter's blushing face and sudden gape made it clear that your question made him feel flustered when he quickly reaches out to shut off his phone, hiding the news article from you.
"ah, y-yeah, i was just curious about him, t-that's all." his voice appeared crack, but he was all too eager to change the subject when he sees you sitting across from him with the same meal.
"oh, you're eating too?"
"yes...uhm, i just wanted to keep you company, i guess?" you admit to him with a shy smile, trying to hide your shyness when biting into your own grilled cheese sandwich.
peter's eyes were seen furrowed for a brief second before his expression changes into a sweet smile. "thanks, i think i could use your company, actually."
that was all that needed to be said when peter begins to enjoy his own meal, biting into his grilled cheese dipped into the tomato bisque. he sneaks glances at you, and you could tell that he wanted to say so much more than what he was actually letting on.
you strengthen your resolve and decide to guide the conversation first. "this may not be any of my business but... i notice that you've been coming here for a while."
"mhmm." peter looks back up at you, and you notice how his rich, brown hair falls across his forehead, making your hands itch with the urge to gently brush it back.
however, you were able to fight back such urges, keeping your hands tightly balled up against your lap in response. "s-so, what i was wondering is... why are you always alone?"
you allow your question to linger within the air, sensing that it was an uncomfortable question for peter to try and answer. his hand seemed to grip tightly at the spoon, and you watch when he seemed to bend the metal in response.
your eyes go wide when peter suddenly stands from his seat, running a hand through his hair as he grabs his phone reached into his pockets to get out his wallet.
"sorry, i have to go."
he grabs a few bills from his wallet before tossing them on the table, filling you with a guilt when you look back at his half-eaten meal. "wait, peter, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-"
"keep the change."
that was all he said before he quickly leaves the diner, making your heart turn cold as ice was felt coursing through your veins. upon hearing the commotion, paul walks out of the kitchen right as peter left. confusion was seen in the man's gaze when he looks down at the table, seeing the completely bent spoon while letting out a whistle.
"damn, did he do that?"
yet you couldn't bring yourself to answer him, simply taking both of your half-eaten meals, being filled with a guilt for potentially overstepping your boundaries with peter.
just who are you? those were the thoughts that lingered within your heart and mind, filling you with an even deeper yearning to get a better understanding of the mysterious young man who seemed to have built a wall around his very heart...
{ ... }
your shift didn't end for another hour, yet paul could sense how distracted you had become and let you off early. he tells you that the waitstaff for the morning shift was on their way and that you could go home to cool off.
"i'll let 'em know you weren't feeling too well, so you just focus on getting some rest."
you give him a grateful smile, clocking out while grabbing your belongings together. "you're the best, paul."
he lets out a rich chuckle while stating your name, "you're damn right i am. be careful going home now, okay?"
with one last nod, you give him a wave and got out of the diner, taking in the cool, early morning air as the sky steadily began to lighten in response to the incoming sun.
"hey."
a soft voice stops you from stepping forward, and you look behind you to see peter himself waiting off to the side. he wore an apologetic expression on his face, adjusting his hoodie while coming closer to you.
"mind if i walked you home?"
you shake your head eagerly at peter, "n-no, i don't mind at all."
he smiles at you, taking a stance right next to you as he kept up with your casual pace. you look back at him and smile.
"were you... waiting for me?"
"yes." peter admits with a sigh, running a hand across his hair once more, making them appear much messier than before. "i felt like an ass for how i treated you back there."
"n-no! don't be, i...i may have gone too far with such a question. a-and, i'm sorry."
"i'm sorry, too."
admittedly, your heart felt so much lighter with your respective apologies stated clearly, no longer feeling the guilt when you continue walking back to your apartment with peter by your side.
you spent several seconds in silence when his voice was heard cutting through your thoughts. "i've lost so many people, that's why you always see me alone."
your heart clenches when you could detect the unbidden sadness in his voice. "you have, peter?"
he doesn't meet your gaze, keeping his eyes against the skyline when he nods at you. the more you looked at him, the more you could see his soft brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears from beneath the sunlight.
"yeah, i have..."
you stop walking, not liking the fact that peter was suffering so much. his loneliness truly didn't seem intentional at all. wishing to change the subject for him, you sigh and lighten up your tone.
"you know, i've been curious about the bruises i see on your face sometimes..."
peter stiffens in response to your observation, but you quickly hold up your hands in response.
"i-i mean, i don't think much of it, i just thought you were into boxing, or were an mma fighter or something."
your words succeed in making peter burst out in a laugh. "what? are you serious? an mma fighter?"
"ah, you're laughing at me?!"
you join in with him, actually feeling so relieved that he had relaxed, even just a tiny bit, while talking to you. he continues to laugh, and you allow yourself to bask within the sounds of his joy.
"sorry, that's kind of flattering, but i may not be bulky enough to be an mma fighter..." peter purposely trails off, continuing to walk with you when you see a wistful smile painting at his features.
"but that isn't to say that i can't fight."
you freeze and stop walking once more, your eyes looking up at him with intrigue. peter also stops walking again, appearing like it was taking him a herculean effort to not laugh at his very moment.
"care to elaborate, pete?"
he lets out a sigh of your name before shrugging. "nah, i don't think i will. i like keeping you on your toes."
that was all he says before walking ahead of you, making you gasp as you ran towards him, telling him how mean he was being to you while he laughs, seeming to enjoy this banter with you as he continued to walk you home.
{ ... }
your mind was constantly filled with thoughts of peter, and you couldn't seem to sit still whenever your daydreams with him would take over.
after walking with you to your apartment, you traded numbers with him and end up texting him on a near daily basis. he was charming, funny, and had to be the most attractive guy you had ever met. your happiness was so infectious that your co-workers take note of the change in your attitude, seemingly happy that things were going well for you and peter.
today was your weekend off, and you decided to spend it out in the city. you texted peter once more early in the morning, but had yet to receive a reply back from him. not thinking much of peter's sudden inactivity, you went on with your day.
you thought about your plans, and wondered if you wanted to head to a café, or your local bookstore to treat yourself to something nice. and maybe, if peter ever replied back to you, you could invite him to join you with whatever activity you wished to do.
that was all that filled your mind when you waited at the stoplight for your turn to cross the street. you stopped checking the messages on your phone and placed it back within the safety of your bag. when you saw that it was safe for you to walk did you finally cross the road-
however, the screeching sounds of tires quickly approaching you makes you freeze in response.
as if time had gone into slow motion, your eyes take in the quickly approaching car, seeing a couple arguing in the front. the driver was not paying much attention to the road, still screaming at his girlfriend as your eyes take in the close proximity of the car.
within the next seconds, the woman sees you and screams, "WATCH OUT!"
yet before the car could make its grave impact into you, you felt your body being flung away as a pair of powerful arms rescues you from the speeding car.
you were hit with an intense vertigo, filling you with a dizziness as your eyes take in the passing scenery of the city. you were so close to puking-
yet within the next second, you found yourself safely planted against a rooftop.
your steps were unsteady as the same pair of powerful arms that saved you continues to wrap around you.
"hey, hey, look at me, are you okay? you're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
your blurry eyes finally look forward, seeing the familiar mask of a vigilante, taking in the spider motif seen against his skin tight suit. you could tell that he was staring at you with concern, even with the way his mask covered the entirety of his features.
the adrenaline slowly simmers down, bringing you down to your knees as you kept on trembling within spider-man's arms.
"oh my god, i was about to- i-i nearly-"
before you could even process how you were so close to dying, you felt spider-man wrap his arms around you, bringing you closer to him as you felt a pair of soft, chapped lips pressing desperately against your own.
the way his lips perfectly slot against yours was enough to make your anxieties go away. you feel the way his hands delve into your hair, pressing one last deep kiss against your lips before pulling away from you.
"ssh, don't even think about it anymore. you're here, safe and sound in my arms. just breathe... just breathe..."
spider-man continues to distract you, holding you in his arms as he walked closer to the edge of the building. his grip on you was tight when he brushes back your hair, pulling down his mask once more while giving you a chance to calm down.
when your breathing goes back to normal, becoming even while losing its hyperventilated quality did he softly ask you, "do you want me to take you home?"
you were still recovering from the shock of his kiss and your near death experience, only managing to give him a nod in response. and despite how you couldn't see his smile, you could hear it in his voice.
"you just hang on to me as tightly as you can, okay? i won't ever drop you, and all you need to do is just trust me."
you give the masked vigilante a nod. "yes, i trust you, spidey."
wrapping your arms around him, you hid your face within his neck as he used his webs to travel quickly through the city. his webs lands with an accurate precision against the buildings, yet still remained durable enough to hold his and your weight. shutting your eyes, you bask at the sensation, feeling as though you were flying from within spider-man's arms.
in just a few minutes, he lands at the front of your fire escape, unlocking your window with his skilled hands as he climbs into your apartment with you.
your eyes go wide when a sudden wave of clarity hits you, feeling spider-man go into your room when he sits on top of your bed with you, this time, his body was trembling.
"spidey-"
he ends up holding you tight, wrapping his arms around your back while hiding his face within the curve of your neck.
"i-i thought i lost you... f-fuck, i thought you were going to be gone from my life, too."
your heart begins to pound, recognizing that broken quality of his voice when you place you hand behind spider-man's head. the hero allows you to pull his face away from you, not even stopping you when you completely lift up his mask-
revealing peter to you.
you caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes for a brief moment when he suddenly kisses you again, allowing you to taste the saltiness of his tears as he crushes your frame closer to his body. sobs were felt raking down his form when you gently kiss him back, all while whispering gentle words of comfort to him.
you allow him to cling to you, letting his tears fall freely when you lay back against your bed with him. as he continues to cry against your neck, allowing those warm droplets to cascade down your skin, your heart became softer for him. making sure that you were holding him tightly against you, you begin to draw invisible circles around his back, waiting for peter to catch his breath.
after several minutes, you felt him pressing a kiss against your cheek, catching your attention when he frames at your face.
"sorry, for giving me a minute to... to let it all out."
he rests his forehead against yours, and you were filled with a soft affection for him, running your fingers through his hair in response.
"did you want to talk about it."
"eventually, i will." peter manages to tell you in a breathless whisper. "eventually, but not now."
you hum in agreement, falling back against your bed while still gently running your hands against his soft hair. "take all the time that you need, peter. i'll be here... i'll always be here for you."
peter lets out a sharp inhale, now strengthening his hold on you when he slowly admits to you.
"you're the reason why i came to the diner so much."
your heart nearly bursts in response to his words, making you meet his gaze once more, seeing the love he had for you shining in them.
"really?"
"yeah...really." peter smiles while brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. "when i first came to the diner, i wasn't expecting to see such a cute waitress; one that stole my heart at first glance."
he sighs and leans forward to kiss your cheek, the action feeling quite soft and sweet to you. "at first, i just wanted to protect you; to make sure that you were safe while working. but... the more i observed you, the harder i fell for you."
peter meets your gaze once more and shakes his head, "that night, when you asked me why i was so alone all the time, i wanted to come clean to you right then and there, b-but, i had to stop myself. i knew that when i finally told you, then it would need to be the full story, with me not hiding a single thing from you-"
you cut off his words with another kiss, basking in his tiny moans of your name before pulling away from him.
"you don't have to worry about telling me, peter. i won't ever leave your side, so... you have all the time in the world."
you go back to wrapping your arms around his back, letting him rest his head against your shoulder when you reassure him once more, "i won't ever leave you, and i'll be happy to listen to your story when your ready."
basking in the way his body loosens up, you allow peter to wrap his arms tightly around you, speaking with a bit of a tremor in his voice when he asks you, "do you promise?"
"i promise." with your oath lingering in the air, you press your lips against his forehead, ready to stay by his side as you smiled to yourself, feeling happy that you managed to break down his walls- slowly becoming the absolute love of his life.
{ and as these days go by | they can't change how long we've waited for | a love that's more ... a love that's more. }
a.n. - lmao, i am so sorry it took me a whole month to get a new peter parker story out. when i realized i had gained a few new readers with joy, i knew that i couldn't stop writing for peter with just that story alone. this is unedited, but it has become one of my favorite stories that i have written in a long time. 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#marvel x reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker fanfiction#.stories
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In case it’s of any interest: “our” Alpha-Scott probably stays /stayed at the A-ROSA hotel in Kitzbühel. Easy to figure out after today’s Insta Reel and story picture. I have been there twice and recognised the area immediately.
Dear, dear @fischers-fritzi,
Thank you for being impeccably reliable (as always) and incredibly generous (as always) & sharing this valuable and accurate information with me. Yes, reader, this is the extra info I had about S in Kitzbuhel, and then a bit more.
First things first, please forgive my late answer. As we agreed, I was reluctant to post this while I was reasonably positive S was still in Austria. You never know what people can do. Throw rotten tomatoes at me, not at our wonderful German friend. I am sitting on this info since Monday evening:
But since I am told Marple decided to go ahead and post it, I see no reason why I wouldn't. She has her Prized Blue Ribbon TM 🙄 and you get the info.
The A-Rosa Hotel in Kitzbuhel is a shocking contrast to the questionable, cockroach-infested Canary Islands digs, so yes - things that make you go hmmm:
Trolling, anyone? LOL, how could we even think this ever happened, in this fandom, huh?
I also honestly believed I had a reasonable theory about the suite/room he might have stayed in, but on second thoughts I decided against it (balcony railings do not match, upon closer inspection). I leave that to people better than me and I would never base my beliefs on such scarce, vicarious and circumstantial evidence.
What I do know for sure, however (not because I am Einstein, but because @fischers-fritzi has direct knowledge of the hotel and integrity), is that today's boxing reel was shot in the hotel's Yoga Room:
So, there you go. This page does not care about being RIGHT. This page cares about being THOUGHTFUL. It's perhaps not sensational, but it's what we reasonably got, at the moment - not fanfic.
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Masturbation May - Day 7a: At Work (Satan)
A/N: Satan was suggested by an anonymous sender! I wasn't quite sure what was considered "at work" for Satan and decided some indecent activities at R.A.D. sounded perfect for this. Sorry that it's late ;;
Featuring: GN reader || Satan x reader
Warnings: masturbation; use of aphrodisiacs (by accident), Satan and reader are not together, a little sexual fantasy about reader and a little guilt as a treat, almost getting caught, a little possessiveness
Word count: 1870
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It was an innocent mistake, but one little slip-up was all it took to throw Satan off track. You'd been struggling in your Applied Magical Potions class, and Satan had volunteered to partner up with you to better assist in your learning. He always enjoyed supporting you, teaching you all sorts of things about the Devildom and magic in exchange for information about the Human Realm. He wasn't sure why the information seemed so much more captivating than when he read it from his books, but he could never wait to learn more from you or about you.
In class, you two had been tasked with mixing a powerful aphrodisiac as a partner project. Gathering the ingredients had went off surprisingly without a hitch. You’d spent the week seeking out what you needed and had had no issue obtaining things like the scale of a Demonkiller Remora, three petals of a Hell Jasmine plant, and even the spit of a succubus, which hadn't been an issue asides from Satan coming out of the ordeal with a face as red as a Hell tomato. The final part of the project was just successfully mixing the ingredients together to make the finished product, and everything had gone right until his and your hands had accidentally bumped while transferring the flask.
It was a tiny splash, and of course you were both wearing gloves as part of the safety procedure. But, if anything can go wrong, it often does, and the splash landed just beyond the safety of the barrier, onto Satan's uncovered wrist. You'd immediately fussed after Satan, making sure he washed it off right away and kept your eye on him afterwards in case he started to feel any effects. But he brushed off your concerns, reassuring you that he was fine, that he wasn't feeling any changes and that the amount that had splashed was maybe even negligible in amount. He was totally fine.
And for a while, he was. The rest of the class passed by without issue, and you two were awarded high grades for your excellent collaboration on the project, celebrating with an excited high five at the end. Once the bell rang and class was dismissed, you realized your next destination was different from Satan's, and you made one last check with Satan to make sure he was still okay. But he just waved you off, even pushing you out the door so that you wouldn't be late, and you couldn't really protest as he looked normal, so you simply shrugged and moved on.
Satan quickly gathered his things and went out into the hallway, intending to go to his next class. But as he was walking down the hall, a spike of heat flooded his body, stopping him in his tracks. Satan gave it a moment to double check, but he knew without a doubt what caused it, and given the strength of the potion he had made with you just barely an hour prior, he could only anticipate what was awaiting him.
He booked it down the hallway, in search of any kind of secluded spot, and happened across a custodial closet. It felt so uncouth, jacking off in there, but he wasn’t sure he could keep quiet enough in a bathroom, with the echoing quality of the tiles. After ensuring no one could see him, he quickly slipped into the closet, sweat already beading along his forehead. Even in just the seconds it took to get to the space, Satan’s body felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t remove his school jacket fast enough. Just trying to undo his bowtie and open his shirt was a struggle, a true testament to the strength of the potion, given how quickly it was acting.
It wasn’t his first rodeo with an aphrodisiac, thanks to Asmo (that he would never elaborate on for the sake of his own sanity, and did his best to forget). He knew roughly what to expect, in terms of how he’d be feeling and for how long, common side effects, etc. And he also knew the only thing that would help him now would be satisfying his urge, terrible location notwithstanding. But the potion had also been powerful stuff, and Satan was doing his best to keep his head on straight, trying to make sure the door was blocked to prevent any unwanted witnesses. His groin was already aching, as well, his cock straining against his pants in desperate search of relief.
He unleashed a huge sigh of relief as he opened his pants, and just took a moment to take a deep breath, trying to stabilize himself before moving on. He spit on his hand and wrapped it around his shaft, and the relief was immense. He wasted no time in stroking himself, building up a nice rhythm. The hope was that the sooner he came, the sooner he could try to put himself together enough to get back to the House of Lamentation, where he could properly shut himself in his room to ride out the rest of the potion’s effects.
At first, his movements were effective, his mind focused solely on the pleasure building in his veins. But eventually, even that stimulation wasn’t enough. His body ached for something more, something substantial. He wanted somebody, someone warm and pliant to fuck his need into, to release all his desperation into. The best results after an aphrodisiac were achieved by coupling with someone, just something about that skin on skin contact provided so much more satisfaction. But Satan didn’t have someone like that in his life, always focused on his two greatest loves, reading and cats.
That was, until you came along. He wasn’t sure what is was, but you were enchanting. He had always craved more knowledge, leading to his desire to read all sorts of new books. But that same thirst for knowledge extended to you, needing to learn everything about what you liked, what you disliked, the differences and similarities between demons and humans, whatever information he could get his hands on. His curiosity was usually innocent, interested in the kind of music you liked and the foods you ate so that he could grow closer to you.
But now with this burning lust in his veins, those curiosities grew more heated, darker. As he continued stroking himself, you came unbidden to his mind, picturing your lips, the shape of your body. How did you pleasure yourself? Did you like to use toys, watch some kind of media? Or maybe you liked erotica, a fellow bookworm like him? What kind of noises did you make? Some tiny, sane part of Satan’s brain was telling him this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be fantasizing about you like this when you’re not together. But then he wanted to know how you’d react if you knew he was jerking off to the thought of you. Would you yell at him, consider him disgusting? Or maybe you’d help him out, taking pity in his lust-drunk state.
He couldn’t help but imagine you then, taking over for his hand as he increased his pace. You’d stroke him slowly at first, making sure to start from his very base and squeeze as your hand made its way to his sensitive head, thumb swiping at his leaking slit. His precum was really flowing now, it’d make it so easy for you to pump his dick. And once you’d built up a good rhythm, he could see you sinking to your knees, working your heavenly tongue along his shaft before taking him into your mouth. Just the very thought of it was enough to make him moan loudly, forgetting where he was, wanting so badly to feel the wet heat of your mouth.
Satan was usually beyond observant, cautious and watchful of his surroundings at all times. But this heat was doing something to him, especially as his thoughts ran to you, muddling his brain and keeping him distracted so that he didn't notice the shadow approaching the door until it was too late, or the familiar voice of a certain annoying older brother calling his name. The doorknob started jiggling, and Satan's head snapped around. Although the door was blocked, he still worried, needing to finish himself off or he was sure he'd go crazy.
"Satan, are you in there?" Lucifer's voice called from outside. Just hearing it grated on his nerves. "You're late for class! Whatever you're doing, you'd better be done soon or I'll report you to Lord Diavolo."
The entire time, Satan's hand couldn't stop, almost as if it had a mind of its own. And as Lucifer gave his warning, really a half-assed threat as Satan didn't give two shits about being reported, the anger it sparked simply fueled him on. He kept his voice quiet, but his panting and the slightly wet fapping sounds as he fucked his fist filled the small space.
How dare Lucifer threaten him? Where did he get off on ordering him around? It wasn't like he wanted to be there, anyway, lusting over someone he wasn't with, struggling with the effects of that damn aphrodisiac he'd had to make with you. It was infuriating. He wondered, then: what if he was with you? He knew Lucifer was interested in you; really, all of his brothers and even himself were, if he was being honest. What he would give to be fucking you right now, right up against the door where Lucifer could hear. Maybe that would knock his asshole brother down a few pegs, show that you belonged with him by having you scream his name, loud enough for everyone to hear.
He could have you making all the most gorgeous noises, show Lucifer that he could never pleasure you as well as his little brother could. His hand sped up, moving fast along his shaft now, his imagination running away from him as he once again saw you pressed up against the door, holding you up by your thighs as he pounded into you, door rattling with the force of his thrusts. He was breathing heavily now, losing himself in the pleasure. It was pure luck that the shadow at the door had gone, as Satan wasn't paying any attention now, his mind gone with the fantasy as his climax finally hit him, ripping a loud growl from his chest as he came.
He couldn't help but curse, body shaking with the force of his orgasm. He let his head hang back, his body finally settling and his breath evening out after a moment. The heat in his body had blissfully dissipated, but he knew it was only temporary, a second wave likely just waiting to happen. Now that he’d gained some semblance of sanity back, he had to come to terms with what just happened. You were attractive, sure, but there was a much bigger, more serious reason you wouldn't leave his thoughts lately. Once he was in the clear with this heat, he was going to finally deal with his emotions and confront you.
But… first, he needed to clean the mess he'd made of the closet floor.
#satan x reader#satan x mc#obey me satan#obey me smut#satan smut#obey me shall we date#the minx can write ✍️#spicy minx 🔥
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friendly debates
Simon Ghost Riley x reader
Liability series chapter seven!
summary: debating with Soap at the dinner table makes even Ghost laugh.
warnings: none, super fluffy
Liability masterlist:
https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share
“Dogs are superior by a longshot. They have more personality when it comes to their breed, and not every dog is the same. Some are really friendly and kind, and others will maul you to death. Cats are just... Cats” Soap explains, watching her eyes widen in response to him. The pair had been arguing about this for ten minutes when Gaz had mentioned his partner wanting to get a pet. Which he now regretted bringing up.
“are you shitting me Johnny? what are you even saying! all dogs are the exact same, they love you, they follow you around, they need you. Cats each have distinct personalities, never met two similar in my life!”
“That's where you're wrong. Dogs all have different personalities Cats are the exact same. They all act like little shits, they look at you, meow, and then claw up your stuff and destroy it. Plus, dogs aren't dicks like cats are.”
“All of the dogs I had growing up were the same, they're lovable don't get me wrong! But they chose their person and they love them, you don't have to work for it. With a cat you've got to earn their respect and their love, it's something you have to work for, meaning its more worthwhile to own a cat” she defends
“They make you earn their trust and affection because they are the true assholes. Dogs are way better than cats”
Kyle makes eye contact with Price and Ghost as they enter the room, he runs over and grabs them “you guys gotta hear this”
“sometimes they are assholes, I'll admit it. But that's personality baby! I swear one day I'm gonna have like five cats” she says, trying to keep her cool as Price and Ghost sit down next to them. She glances at Ghost sitting across from her and qucikly looks back to Johnny.
“I hate cats. I swear if you get a cat I'm gonna go apeshit on you”
“are you asking me to chose between you and the cats?”
“Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking”
“cats every time” she answers without hesitation, causing the table to erupt in laughter. All but one, smiling at her antics.
“Damn. You're brutal” Kyle comments
“don't fuck with me about cats suds! I warned you when you brought it up” She says pointing at Soap. Price laughs at her choice of nickname.
“I'm telling ya, some of these cats are just the absolute bane of my existence. Especially when you have your hands full and they jump up on top of you and just dig their claws into you. It's torture”
“I'm sorry is the sergeant mactavish really comparing a cat to literal torture?” She asks as she giggles “you’re admtting that you’re afraid of little kitty cats? All you’ve done is give me ideas”
“You wouldn't dare..., no. Anything but those cats, I beg of you”
“too late you've already gone too far” she shrugs
“Noooooooooo! Have mercy, you devil!”
“funny” she responds, picking up a strand of her ginger hair. The men around her laugh loudly.
“Okay enough about cats, how about this, is soup cereal?” Gaz asks egging them on.
“Soup? I think it's more like a savory form of cereal” Soap nods, answering simply.
“what the fuck did you just say? are you insane?” she asks
“It's literally a bowl, of liquid, and you eat it. That's just savory cereal”
“Johnny I am seriously questioning your sanity right now” she says seriously
“You're questioning my sanity for calling soup a savory cereal? It is literally savory cereal.”
“okay repeat yourself one more time”
“Soup. Is. Savory. Cereal.” he says, earning a laugh from Ghost himself.
“you're psychotic! soup is hot, cereal isn't”
“Soup can be hot, but it doesn't have to be. Do you think cold soup doesn't exist?”
“name literally one” she demands
“Cold tomato soup.”
“Johnny tomato soup isn't cold” Price interjects
“I've drank cold canned tomato soup” Soap shrugs
“Thats disgusting” she cringes
“Soup is savory cereal, LT what do you say? Back me up on this” Soap says wrapping an arm around Ghost’s shoulder.
“You out of your right fuckin mind if you think soup is cereal” Ghost states causing the entire table to erupt in laughter. She smiles to herself as Soap continues to defend himself, clearly seeing out numebred he was. She makes eye contact with Ghost once again, accidently as their legs brush against eachtoher. She utters an apology and holds her hands to her cheeks, resting on them as she attmpets to hide her blushing face.
Simon sits back with his arms crossed as he pretends to listen to the ridiclous claims the sergeant was making. He couldn’t help but look at her, he watched as she argued so passioantly about the simple topics. She was funny, a side he hadn’t seen from her before. She was charming, and sarcastic and quick witted. He’d always wondered why his teammates seemed to love her so much, now he understood the appeal. She was interesting, and she could hold her own. Still feeling bad about his behavior last week, he decides that he would apoligize. She didn’t deserve it.
#smut#cod mw2#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#mw2#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x you#simon riley#angst#cod x reader#modern warfare x reader#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#modern warfare 2#modern warfare#modern warfare ii#soap mw2#cod mwii#ghost mw2#cod mw3#cod#call of duty#soap#kyle gaz garrick#john price#captain price#price#call of duty x reader#soap cod
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Look at Us Now - Easter Outtake
Fic masterlist
HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY TO LAUN!!
SURPRISE!! I’m late to my own party, and I 100% apologize for that
But!
I can’t believe LAUN is a year old already 🥹🥹 they grow up so fast!! I don’t think an Easter celebration is canon compliant at all, but I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away when LAUN’s 1st anniversary came right on Easter 🥹🥹🥹 I’m so emotional 🥹
I’m also aware that not everyone here celebrates Easter, but honestly this was just an excuse to write fluff and chocolate gift-giving. I hope everyone finds a way to enjoy it!
And I feel like we all deserve a post-epilogue glimpse after an entire year of these two idiots heheheh
Warnings: cranky teenager Maisie, sibling fights (lots)
Words: 3k
Every time Aelin mocked Rowan for spoiling their kids too much, it completely lacked the awareness that she was the one he spoiled the most.
Or at least that was on Maisie’s mind as she strolled down the supermarket’s aisles with her little brother, because Mom wrote in the family group chat that she wanted pasta for dinner, so Dad asked Maisie to buy the ingredients after school.
“Finn,” she called her unrequited companion, “do you remember which olive oil Dad likes?”
“Uh…” The boy hesitated without taking his eyes off his Nintendo Switch. “I dunno, that green one?”
Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Are you being for real right now?”
Startled, the boy raised his head to see row after row of different green bottles of olive oil. They all looked exactly the same, but she knew better than to grab the first one they saw, knowing how fussy her dad could be sometimes.
“Gods! Just call him—that’s why you have a fucking phone,” Finn said while rubbing off the sting on his forearm.
Maisie rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell him you dropped a F-bomb.”
“And I’ll tell him you slapped me.”
“He’d be on your side,” she said while texting Rowan about the olive oil. “You’re so much shorter than me—he’d say it’s not a fair fight.”
“Take it back!” He ran towards Maisie for a second, since she was on her way to get tomatoes now. “When I get taller than Uncle Lorcan, you’ll wish you were less mean to me.”
Well, that would be a problem for future Maisie. At ten years old, Finn was so short, taunting him about it was almost too easy.
“Yeah, whatever.” She tapped her brother’s shoulder and pointed at another direction. “Go get the parmesan cheese.”
Finn turned to leave, but swung back to her. “Can we have ice cream later?”
Ice cream that she would have to pay, because she couldn’t report to the parental unit about illicit ice cream before dinner, let alone request a refund.
“Fine, just—“
“Alright! I’m there!”
Ever since Maisie got her first job, her brother started acting as if she was a millionaire. Sometimes, she wondered if he believed that her salary was the same as their parents’, which would be highly inaccurate. Despite the age gap, her parents never asked Maisie to act in any way that resembled a parental role—still, she liked to treat her siblings once in a while, give their jobless selves a taste of freedom, let them see what it’s like to have ice cream before dinner just because you can.
Before she knew it, he was back with the cheese.
“Can you buy me that Kinder Easter egg?” He pointed at a cardboard display filled with them. “The one with the dinosaur.”
Maisie narrowed her eyes on Finn. “You told Mom you wanted another one.”
“Yeah, because she only let me pick one.”
Her eyebrows shot when she came closer and saw the price tag. “Hell, no. I’d rather pay for a new haircut.”
“Hey!” Finn protested, running a hand through his newly cut hair. “Mom said she likes it!”
“You look ridiculous.”
“I’m so gonna tell her you said that.”
“Do it. Deep down, she agrees with me.”
˜˜
When she arrived, the house was calmer than usual.
“You aren’t magic!” Eamon shouted to his smirking, completely unfazed sister. “You’re not!”
Maisie walked past them towards the kitchen, where her dad prepped dinner as if the twins weren’t about to rip each other’s heads off in the living room.
“Hey, Maisy Daisy,” he called without looking away from the onion he was chopping. “Did you get everything?”
She put the bags on the counter as an answer, then her dad kissed the crown of her head in thanks and promised to repay her later.
Things didn’t seem to progress at all in the living room—actually, they did, if one could count Eamon getting angrier as progress.
“You don’t fly! You don’t control fire! You don’t teleport!”
Enid giggled. “I know how, I just don’t want to.”
“NO! YOU CAN’T!”
Maisie cut in, “I mean, she could.”
That made the boy stop and narrow his eyes on her, begrudgingly hanging on to whatever she was about to say. Since she was more than twice the twins’ age and the wisest of them all, sometimes her siblings actually listened to something Maisie said.
“I mean…” she shrugged. “We don’t know where you two came from, so maybe she really does have magic.”
Enid crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”
“FINN!” Maisie shouted and waited a moment for her brother to come out of his room. “Do you remember when we found Enid and Eamon in the trash?”
“That’s a lie!” Her ever-so-cool little sister yelled, her green eyes welling up.
“Oh, yeah.” Finn said after taking a moment to process the information, acting nonchalant—if he laughed, it was game over. “That day was wild.”
Eamon stood frozen in shock, while Enid bellowed an ear-shattering cry.
“Maisie! Finn!” Rowan yelled from the kitchen. “Stop telling your siblings we found them in the trash!”
“But they need to know the truth!” Maisie shouted back, wondering if her dad heard her over Enid’s cries.
“What on Earth is going on here?” Her Mom showed up, wrapped in a towel with her hair wet.
Eamon ran to hug Aelin’s middle, his eyes teary. “Are you not my mommy?”
Maisie rolled her eyes. Mama’s boy.
“Of course I am, honey.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”
With a sigh, Dad was finally able to join the rest in the living room. “Finn and Maisie told the twins they’re adopted.”
Aelin sent them her classic Are you kidding me? mom look, as if Maisie was to blame, then proceeded to soothe the seven-year-olds.
If they fell for it, it was their fault for being stupid. There’s a picture of Dad as a kid on Grandma Rory’s hallway from when he was Eamon’s age, and they look like the same person in there.
“The only one adopted here was Fleetfoot,” Dad said.
“No, she’s not. I gave birth to her.” Mom sent him a mischievous look. “I went into labor for her.”
“Um—“ Maisie cleared her throat. “Fleetfoot’s mine.”
Dad sent Mom an apologetic smile. “She really is Maisie’s.”
“I want a dog too!” Enid cut in.
“Yeah, me too!” Finn joined.
Maisie hummed. “We could give them a country name…”
“Like Eyllwe,” Eamon said.
Rowan’s eyes widened. “No! Fleetfoot’s everyone’s,” he said, completely contradicting himself after the threat of more poop for him to clean.
˜˜
From the looks of it, dinner would be ready on time for breakfast.
To be fair, her dad was never late to finish dinner, but his desire to make this a special one and the boiling tomatoes in order to make the sauce from scratch led to this.
It was kinda cute, how Dad conjured something special out of thin air just because his wife hinted that she was feeling like it over text while they were at work.
Maisie saw a glimpse of her parents canoodling in the kitchen on her way to her bedroom, but almost ran to the toilet instead. They were so adorably disgusting, all that love made her want to throw up.
Her parents were no better than any PDA-addicted straight couple she saw at school, except that while the average high schooler couple lasted about three months, her parents have been at it for a little over a decade.
At least, a light peck was the furthest they got in front of their kids—or ever. For all Maisie knew, she and her three siblings came from artificial insemination.
A savior from her thoughts, Finn knocked on the door.
“We need to talk,” he said, looking crestfallen.
“C’mere.”
Maisie sat on the side of her bed, and tapped the free space beside her for him to sit. Instead, he sat on her lap. Weird.
She was about to ask him what was going on when a low, rumbling sound coming from him filled the air.
The little bitch had just farted on her.
Finn ran away, giggling, while Maisie screamed the most irate shriek ever known to man.
He locked himself in his bedroom, but her quickened pulse only energized her, aiding tense upper arms to pound against his door.
“I’M GONNA KILL YOU,” Maisie shouted at her hiding brother.
He’d get out sometime, and when he did, she’d be there.
On the kitchen’s threshold, Aelin peeked her head into the hallway. “What’s going on here?”
The teenager slowly turned to her mom, jaw tight, and seethed, “Why. Was. He. Born?”
With a sigh that came deep from her soul, Aelin fully stepped into the hallway. “What did your brother do now?”
Maisie pointed at her closed bedroom door. “Smell it!”
Her mom stepped in and out of the bedroom, coughing. “Gods, Finn!”
In a feeble attempt to fix the situation, Aelin opened Maisie’s bedroom’s window and sprayed some air freshener inside—one hand on the bottle, another clamping her nose. Still, the girl didn’t trust to go back into her room for the next hour or so.
Aelin knocked on Finn’s door twice to get his attention. “That was way too stinky, honey, I’m cutting off some of your junk food!”
“Come on!” he complained from the other side of the door.
Too bad Finn couldn’t see her triumphant smirk. It’d rile him up beautifully.
Two taps to her shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come help me set the table.”
“What was that?” Dad asked when Mom got back to the kitchen, focused on the stove.
“Finn farted in Maisie's room and she threatened his life.”
“Oh,” was all he said, mixing something on the tomato sauce.
She desperately needed to meet whoever taught her parents how to live this peacefully amidst chaos.
“On my room? He farted on me.” She flailed her arms, trying to explain her brother’s audacity. “He sat on my lap, his butt to my thigh, and farted.”
Aelin snorted. “I told you the kids shouldn’t spend that much time with Aedion.”
Rowan’s eyes lit up. “You did tell me some awfully similar stories from when you were younger.”
After the table was set, Mom was back to her occasional glass of wine, and all was left to do was her dad’s finishing touches to dinner.
Maisie cleared her throat. “I was thinking…”
Her dad immediately turned around and pointed a spoon at her. “If it’s about that party, don’t bother.”
“Not a party!”
“Money, then.” Aelin smirked behind her glass of wine.
The girl crossed her arms. Her mom’s grin turned smug.
Maisie groaned. “Fine! But it’s good, I promise.”
“Go on,” Rowan said.
“I want to buy Easter eggs for Finn and the twins, but I can’t afford the cool ones.”
“Aw, honey, that’s so sweet.” Her mom melted right on spot. “I’m sorry we can’t help you with that.”
Maisie’s face fell. “What.”
Even her dad seemed a little confused, though he tried to hide it.
Aelin sat straighter to explain, “You see, if we help you with this, your siblings will ask to do the same, and it wouldn’t be fair to say no to them after…”
Maisie rolled her eyes. Her parents and their “equal treatment”—
“Do not roll your eyes at your mother,” Rowan warned.
Aelin continued, “Next thing we know, we spent our entire paychecks on chocolate, Finn is farting on our faces all day, the twins will never fall asleep again from the sugar rush, and your dad will be shoving food down your throat because of some crazy diet you saw online to get rid of the Easter weight.” She raised her brow in that infuriating mom way of hers. “Did I miss something?”
“Fine!” Maisie held both arms up in surrender. “You want me to buy your kids lame chocolate, is that it?”
“If they can’t appreciate whatever you can afford, I’m not raising them right.”
“Ugh!” Maisie groaned, and sat facing away from her mother.
A moment later, Dad sent her off to tell her siblings dinner was ready, and soon everyone was at the table, ready to attack the food that took ages to be ready.
Except that, when she asked for the parmesan cheese, Enid took it and kept waving it in front of her instead of just passing it over.
After seven years of Enid, Maisie was unimpressed. “Are you trying to tease me?”
The little girl giggled. “No, you can have it, but I want to see your eyes light up first!”
With a sigh, Rowan took it from Enid’s hand and passed it over to Maisie. “Can we just try to be rational for once?”
“I was rational once,” Eamon said, frowning.
With his mouth full, Finn said, “I want the next special dinner to be at one of those fancy pasta places with two forks.”
“Manners,” Aelin warned the wild beast she called a son.
“Mom and Dad never take us to fancy restaurants for a reason,” Maisie said while giving a pointed look to Finn, who was by her side.
The boy rolled his eyes and mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “MoM aND dAD nEVer tAkE uS tO fANcY rEStAuRaNts FoR a rEasOn.”
Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm, and that’s when her parents lost patience.
Rowan lifted his pointed finger, “Do not—“
“Maisie, Finn, for Mala’s sake…” Aelin started, pinching the bridge of her nose.
˜˜
Later that night, Maisie was scrolling on TikTok before sleep, but two knocks on her bedroom door stopped her short.
It was Finn, holding his blanket. More often than not, he slept in Maisie’s room—she wasn’t sure why, but it’d been this way since he was little. Already knowing what was about to happen, Fleetfoot moved to the foot of the bed to give him space. Her bed might look big, but it didn’t have nearly enough space for two people and a person-sized dog.
When she was taking off her many pillows to find some space for her brother, a bulky-looking folded paper caught her eye.
Maisie hid it back with the pillow and said, “Go get me some water.”
Finn complained, but complied.
Quickly unfolding the paper in the little time she had, Maisie recognized her dad’s writing and a fuckton of cash—not too much for an Air Force major, but enough to make a teenager who had a minimum-wage part-time job feel like a billionaire.
Groceries refund + your delivery fee
Don’t mention it—ever
Maisie’s grin grew wicked. She fucking loved her dad.
˜˜
Finding a reason to get out of the house on Easter was tough, but she managed it.
Maisie had already picked her dad’s sushi-filled Easter egg at the restaurant, since he hated chocolate, and the other ones had been retrieved from its hiding place at Uncle Aedion’s.
Inside her house, Finn was the first one to greet her.
He eyed her bags suspiciously. “What’s all that?”
Without a word, she took one Kinder egg that fit in her palm, and handed it to him. Finn took it in his hand, contemplated it for a second with a silly half-smile, then hugged Maisie tight, squeezing her waist.
“Gods!” She lightly slapped his head. “You’re so dumb.”
Before he processed what happened, Maisie got his actual Easter egg, the Kinder with the dinosaur he wanted.
His eyes lit up and his mouth hung open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, her brother crushed her into a hug that knocked her breath out of her lungs.
“Thanks, Mais.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She took a second to take it in, than wiggled out of his hug to hand the twins’ ones.
They looked so happy, it didn’t even look like Mom and Dad gave each of them giant Easter eggs three hours ago.
Her parents were watching them from afar, wearing one of those weird, sentimental parent smiles.
When she took out her dad’s from the bag, Rowan finally looked surprised—which was easily detected by his wife.
The “shell” part of his Easter egg was just nori and rice, but it was filled with seafood. Dad twirled his sushi egg in his hands, mouth ajar. “Honey, I didn’t think you’d get me something too. You didn’t have to.”
“Too?” Mom asked, lips quirked up. Her eyes sparkled, darted between Maisie and Rowan, then landed on her daughter. “Good to know you found a way to afford it.”
“I’m my father’s daughter.” Maisie shrugged. “Of course I know how to save money.”
She also knew how to spend it like her mother, but it wouldn’t be smart to mention right now.
At that point, Maisie knew Aelin figured out that Rowan gave her the money, and Mom knew Maisie knew she knew. Neither of them would say a word, though, and it was best this way.
She handed her mom’s next, a chocolate hazelnut Easter egg the size of Aelin’s head.
“I didn’t know Dad bought you the same one,” Maisie said with a sheepish smile.
“You won’t hear me complaining, honey.” Her mom kept intense eye contact with her Easter egg, likely unwrapping it in her mind as if she didn’t have a half-eaten identical one in her bedroom.
Aelin put her gift on the coffee table near them and hugged Maisie. “I love you, honey,” she said before kissing her daughter’s head. “Thank you for the gift. You’re such a great big sister.”
“I know, right?”
However, their hug was abruptly broken by shouting coming from the other side of the living room.
“Stop. Being. An idiot!” Enid shouted at Eamon for whatever reason they decided to bicker over this afternoon.
“We’re both idiots, but you’re the bigger idiot!” he fought back.
Maisie tapped her mom’s shoulders. “Go tame your evil twins.”
“Don’t call your siblings that!”
She sighed, not surprised by how quickly their moment of peace—a rarity in her home—was broken.
Weirdly enough, her parents seemed to enjoy it.
A/N: In the plans of this outtake I have deep into my notes app, Aelin mentions that since her husband doesn’t like chocolate, her Easter gift to him would be given “later tonight”. I thought you’d like to know *wink*
2nd A/N: Yes I left Maisie’s exact age in the dark on purpose heheheh this one spoiler I’m not handing out like this.
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#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver galathynius#throne of glass#rowaelin fanfiction#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfic#throne of glass fanfic#look at us now
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congrats on 3k ml, so so proud of you, you deserve it and so much more! and if i haven’t said this sooner, i’m in love with your account and your writing is gorgeous, you’re just so incredibly talented, and aerial too <3
I was wondering if I could have KNIVES OUT please? i’ve been in a bit of a rut lately, not really feeling the best all of a sudden and was thinking of something comfort related with pete. maybe something with breathe (muse a holds muse b closely to help them wind down after a stressful day/event) and possibly with a bit of o4 (sender offers receiver an earbud to share their music), maybe as a way to say that they’re there for them without having to say the words and that they’re here to listen when they’re ready to talk?
thank you so much for considering my request and take your time. congratulations again on yet another milestone!
thank you for your request lovely! this was such a good one I loved writing it. and I hope u feel better soon angel!!! x
summary: peter helps you feel better after a bad day
gn!reader 0.9k words
You’re close to tears by the time you get to Peter’s. It’s been a hard day. Your heart hurts and your mind is tired and your body is unfortunately taking the toll. Your limbs ache and your head pounds. Plus, it’s raining, which never helps.
You let yourself in because he gave you a key months ago, along with a little spiderman keyring that you think is simultaneously awful and adorable. At least it makes you smile every time you look at it.
You shed your jacket and shoes at the door, hang your bag on the hook he’d added for you next to his. You can hear him in the kitchen, cutlery and pots and pans jostling around.
“Peter?” You call.
No response, but you think you can hear him humming. He must have his earbuds in.
You make your way to his tiny kitchen, with its overgrown plants that have managed to claim the entire windowsill, and the colourful mismatch of mugs collected over years of thrift shopping. Sure enough, Peter’s stirring something that smells like tomato soup at the stove, earbuds lodged in his ears, the wire threaded under his shirt and into his jeans pocket. He’s humming a song, head bopping as he stirs, and it makes your heart smile.
“Hi, Peter.”
Peter starts, then relaxes when he sees it’s you. A smile stretches across his face like a sunrise. Slow and beautifully warm and golden. He puts down his wooden spoon and takes out his earbuds, letting them dangle over his shirt collar.
“Y/N,” he says, and the way he says your name makes your chest ache. Like he was meant to say it. Like it’s his favourite word in the world. Like maybe he loves you more than you or him can even comprehend. “Hi, honey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
The corner of your mouth lifts in the whisper of a smile. “It’s okay,” you shrug. You peer at the rich red substance on the stove. “Is that tomato soup?”
Peter grins. “Yes, ma’am. I thought we’d have that and grilled cheese.” He strides across the floorboards until he’s right in front of you. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by how lovely and homely he looks. With his soft blue t-shirt, his hair all mussed, freckles glowing in the warm kitchen light. He smells like tomato and garlic and butter. He takes your face in one hand and drags his thumb over your cheekbone. “What d’you think?”
You almost forget what he was talking about in the first place. You blink, overwhelmed by his closeness, by the presence of him. He feels very safe. Safer than you’ve felt all day.
“Sounds good,” you say weakly. You know you sound funny. It hadn’t meant to come out that way, but you were already feeling bad and he’s come along and been so lovely that all of it combined is gonna make you cry.
Peter smiles again, and dips his head to kiss your forehead. His warmth is intoxicating. You want to hug him so badly it hurts. He pulls away, his hand still at your jaw, and he must catch the look on your face because his eyes are suddenly all concern.
“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly a little bit urgent. “You look sad. You’re not sick, are you?”
You shake your head. “No. Um, no, I’m not sick. I just, um.” You swallow. It’s hard to tell him, because you don’t want to ruin how happy he is. But you know he’d want you go tell him the truth. “I had a hard day today.”
Peter melts, makes a pitying noise that’s so nice your chest hurts. He takes your face in both hands now, and steps closer so his arms are lodged between your chests.
“Aw, baby. Why didn’t you call me, hm? I’d’ve picked you up earlier.”
You try to shake your head again but it’s hard when he’s got his hands all over your face.
“Pete, it’s okay,” you tell him. “It wasn’t anything in particular, really.” You shrug. It’s hard to explain, but you know he’s always patient with you so you don’t try to explain it all now. “I’m just happy I’m here now.”
Peter smiles at that. It’s pretty in its softness. Gentler than the big grins he gives you when you make a joke. Soft as warm butter. “I’m happy you’re here, too. Hey, you can stay that night, if you’d like. Would you like to?”
Just the thought of it makes you want to cry. He’ll probably talk to you later tonight about your day, help you get to the root of the problem and then work through a solution with you. He’s good at that.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” you say, desperately trying not to give in to the growing urge to cry. Only, now you don’t know if it’s because you’re sad or happy. “That’d be nice.”
Peter hums as he drags his thumbs under your eyes, his skin calloused against the soft, velvety, skin there. He studied your face for a moment. Then,
“You want a hug?”
You smile. He knows you too well. “Yeah, please.”
He hugs you so tight it’s almost hard to breathe. Then he lets you share his earbuds and he puts on your favourite song while you stir the soup and he cooks up two grilled cheese in the pan. The earbud wire stretches dangerously and they fall out of your ears every two seconds, but it’s worth it to be next to him.
It’s safe to say your bad day is saved.
-
#★ mal writes!#⭐️ 3k celebration!#peter parker#peter parker drabble#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker imagine#peter parker blurb#peter parker headcanon#peter parker x reader#peter parker headcanons#peter parker x you#peter parker x gn!reader#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker drabble#tasm!peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker blurb#tasm!peter parker fanfiction#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker imagine#tasm!peter parker x y/n#tasm!peter parker x fem!reader#tasm!peter parker fic#tasm!peter parker fluff#tasm!peter#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#✉️
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sweetest devotion (p.4)
mason really should've listened what his sister had been saying all this time, that not everyone is what they seem...
playboy!mason x princess!OC
tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but particularly extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience AND VIOLENCE in this chapter
wc: 2.1k
note: as i've promised previously, here's some happ(ier) stuff for you guys! hope you like them! but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.
tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie<3 (lmk if you wanna be added!)
part 3 - part 5
sweetest devotion masterlist here
please don’t be late for the banquet.
was the last thing elena saw flashing from mason’s phone.
mason had never voiced out his inner frustration towards this whole one big mess they—including serena—were involved in, but elena knew better than the deep, resigned sighs mason let out just now. or every time he’d gotten a glimpse of serena’s name from his phone, which was rather often due to her tenacity to keep posting about her whereabout. or whenever someone brought up the sore topic of his (faux) marriage.
it still irked her that she still couldn’t have mason entirely, body and soul, despite living together for almost a season now. despite having him physically by her side almost 24/7, except on days he had to leave for practices and matches. now she had to have him apart for the formal banquet at the embassy of eldorra, as a consequence of marrying the country’s only princess.
I know, I know, elena groaned inwardly. it was only a night, but elena had to see pictures of mason and serena being a couple everyone dreams of plastered all over the news and social media posts by tomorrow morning. it might not be the married couple’s intention but surely the palace would love to blast how wonderful their marriage turned out to be, fanning the “ridiculous” gossips of the couple nobody saw coming. aka the bun in the oven.
elena couldn’t take it—heck, she never could. she would always play hard to get, yes, but it was solely for mason’s eyes. she’d never guess it’d backfire on herself, playing the jealousy card.
the mere thoughts of people fawning over their visuals would already drive her insane because she knew—god, did she know—that elena and mason would’ve smashed every other visual couples. she was a model, for god’s sake, and he was the teenage-heartthrob footballer.
the temptation to just wreck the banquet was already sitting on top of elena’s head, if it wasn’t for the fact that her career she’d so hard been building was at stake. because no matter what, she was up against a princess, a monarchy figure loved by her people, a respectable woman in the eyes of the world. of course elena would be the one everyone would throw tomatoes at, should she come out and expose the real deal.
heck, she couldn’t even tell a single soul because of it. no matter how supportive her friends are, elena would be on the short end of the sticks. they’d call out elena a crazy lady and tell her to stop deluding herself because her ex—from their point of view—was no longer available in the market. that elena was taking her grief and regret of losing mason way too harsh.
“don’t go,” elena would always beg him to stay behind, whenever mason was walking out of the door towards serena’s direction. be it picking up his fresh set of clothes—for whatever reason elena could never understand because he could’ve moved in all his stuffs—or be it for his monthly baby check-up.
tonight was no exception.
and mason would always answer, “you know I’ll be back soon, baby.”
but what if he never did? would elena still be able to stand time and place in this lifetime?
fuck’s sake, elena sobbed in frustration that she almost threw mason’s favourite choice of liquor from her hand to the nearest wall. what did she do to deserve this?
right, you broke mason’s heart and led him to serena.
＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊
mason would be lying if he said his jaw didn’t fall onto the floor the moment serena stepped out of her room—his old guest room, mostly occupied by ben chilwell whenever he was over at mason’s—wearing a floor length tulle gown. one he’d recognised from the latest collection of the palace’s favourite designer, ellie saab.
serena, magically without even touching him, had no problem making his acting job tonight go smooth as silk.
call him shallow for all he cared, mason could feel his withstanding great wall of china he’d built around himself crumbling apart at the sight. and that should only mean a big fat red flag for him because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. especially after the insane stunt she pulled weeks ago, endangering herself, the baby, and the identity of their fake marriage the moment she went down to Portsmouth to be by his mother’s side.
but how could he, when the room’s attention shifted to wherever serena went, that he had no choice but to aggravate his own towards his wife, who was now talking to the eldorran ambassador for the UK like they were good friends and not a princess and one of her subjects?
how could he not feel all these supposedly forbidden things when he watched her effortlessly forced everyone else in the room to keep up with her knowledge?
how could he not feel all these supposedly prohibited things when he watched her interacting with several little eldorrans like they were her own children, while looking so magnificently striking without even trying?
a total 180 degrees contrast to her usual garb of either smart pants or loungewear with cardigan wrapped around her. her hair was now clipped neatly into an updo, her make up was rather clean for a formal banquet but still had a dramatic effect around her eyes. her jewelleries could also be considered simple for the title she was bearing.
despite his description on serena going rather humble for her extravagant upbringing, mason had never seen someone who exuded an aura so… composedly dignified. regal. royal. despite his proud acclamation that he had always loved it when a woman knows how to carry herself well, no one was a worthy match to serena thermopolis of eldorra.
it was only then did he realise—again—that he had, indeed, married a princess all along.
the person who was usually silent while busily writing down her recipes and diaries colourfully on his kitchen counter—only talking whenever he asked her a question or whenever she wanted to report her whereabouts or whenever the baby’s concerned. even then, she’d cut down her replies to no more than 10 words in a sentence—was no more than an exterior she’d only put up whenever she was around.
slowly things dawned on him, especially scenes from weeks ago at the hospital. she certainly wasn’t silent if she could get along with his family.
“how are you settling into the married life, your highness?”
her smile was still plastered in her face prettily, albeit the strained edges of her eyes. “I have a wonderful husband right here,” as if on cue, mason stepped in closer to her and held her gently by the waist. they weren’t supposed to show affections in public but for some unbeknownst reason, mason wanted to. “I think it’s rather how he’s settling into the married life with me.”
was this how serena had always been, witty underneath the cold, calm beauty?
“we can’t actually believe it at first, the calm princess got married before her brothers,” another one spoke up, and mason could feel serena tensing at the implied gossip around the ton. in some fucked up way, it reminded him of the time they shared a ride home from Portsmouth, when she was left frozen at the sight mason losing his head.
was she scared of him?
“when you know a princess loves you with all her heart,” mason instinctively took the wheel, silently thanking heavens he paid attention to the short course on media play and handling Chelsea had prepared for their players. “what’s stopping you to marry her?”
while mason titled his head down to spare serena a glance, the woman’s vision remained locked to the honourable guests in front of her, a smaller smile etched on her face this time.
was he that blind to her being afraid of him?
or was it something else that he did?
who is serena thermapolis, anyway?
＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊
mason couldn’t sleep afterwards. he’d trashed left and right to find a comfortable position or a cold surface of his sheet, he’d woken up every one or two hours on top of that.
unfortunately, mason knew it was not because of the ethereal sight of his wife cascading throughout the ballroom, impressing and charming everyone else while also impressing mason at her ability to divert the guests’ piqued curiosity of their marriage.
it was because it had been a while since the last time he’d occupied his bed. funny how he said his bed this time around, as if he’d gone back to Portsmouth and his mother told him his old bedroom was still available for him.
but as extreme urgent poundings grazed his door before he could drift himself to sleep, mason had never felt so lucky to be sleepless.
he immediately jumped off the bed, thinking nothing but grabbing his phone to call the police. he’d pressed the device already to his ear, ready to rant off about the intruder to his house. “serena?”
he called for his wife-on-paper not to make sure if it was her crazy antics, but it was because he wanted to make sure she was safe instead. and when his calls were only met by silence, he’d never dashed off for the stairs faster than that instance.
however, it turned out it was rather mason’s problem not catching on her voice. firstly because her room was downstairs, secondly because it slipped his mind that serena had never been brought up to raise her voice. because she was already standing at the doorframe, facing whoever had the lunatic guts to disturb his home so late into the night.
mason ran faster towards her direction because there was no way she was facing a criminal on her own, without protection or safety gears or whatsoever, as if it was her friends coming over to surprise her at midnight. “serena!”
but before he could reach her, serena had flown all the way across the porch from a well-placed, strong punch. before he could process what was happening, serena had sat up, holding her face with a hand while her other hand was holding her weight.
“what else do you want?”
before he could ask what she meant by that, a familiar figure launched herself towards serena like a tiger pouncing on her prey. “I told you before to leave mase alone!”
elena?
“and I will tell you over and over again to leave mase alone!”
mason couldn’t believe the scene unravelling before his very own eyes. like soap operas, the hidden lover kept hitting on the wife set up for him—grabbing the pregnant woman by the hair, launching slaps on her face, shoved her to the ground brutally while throwing cuss words at here every time the mistress relented her anger towards her.
was this what it felt like, when his favourite actor played out a scene where he died out other noises and people and surroundings because he couldn’t think anymore?
after what felt like an eternity, the scene where elena kicked a crouching serena, left and right endlessly, was what snapped him back to reality. that’s a pregnant lady, for god’s sake!
“leave,” mason stepped in between the two ladies, covering serena’s cowering figure with his body. as soon as his hands went around serena’s sides, he could feel her protecting her belly and mason had never felt so much anger emitting from his inside. “while I’m still nice.”
“mason—”
“I said, leave,” still wrapping his body around serena’s, mason mustered the coldest, meanest intonation as if it was his weekly battle on the pitch. “which part of the word that’s hard for you to understand?”
elena stood towering both mason and serena, yet she was the one that appeared small and scared. “mase—”
“leave!” mason had never shouted at a woman before but morality and courtesy were the last things on his mind right now. “I fucking told you to leave!”
“mason…” his lover whimpered, trying to reach for mason but the man only shook her hands away and stood up, looming over her this time as he pushed her off his property. “surely you’re mistaken, we can talk about this—”
in every of mason’s step forward was a step backwards for elena. in every of mason’s fuming step was elena’s panic spew of her so-called justification behind her actions. and before long, the man had pushed her off the edge of his home.
“if you come here again, I will not hesitate to call the police. you got me?”
next update:
“I need you to be honest with me, serena,” mason didn’t waste another breath after the doctor stepped away from her room. “the doctor said next time. when was the first time?”
“remember that one week you thought I went missing?”
#oh-saints writes#mason mount#mason mount angst#mason mount fluff#mason mount series#mason mount x oc#mason mount imagines#mason mount fics#mason mount fanfic#mason mount fanfiction#football fanfiction#football fanfic#footballer x oc
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Imagine this,
Jo from &team got home from a tiring day with his s/o in the couch. When he went to eat his save [insert dessert] it was missing. He then tackle his s/o, tickle and attack with kisses till begging to stop. They have a fluffy kissing and the s/o promises to buy him the dessert back
like-AAAAAAA JUST THINKING OF JO BEING SO COMFORTABLE AND NOT SHY IS JUST- I cant rn- Id melt so muchhh
I -- OMG! I'm sorry for late response, secondly. . . I'm in love! <3
Masterlist
Biscuits and Tickles - &Team Jo
Synopsis: You ate Jo's very last biscuit. Luckily your boyfriend doesn't get mad easily but he does want to punish you, playfully.
Warnings: fluff, tickle-fight, pouty Jo, reader is a menace lol
Word Count: 614
It was a long day. Jo wanted nothing more than to go to the dorms and fall asleep just to never wake up. He even declined his member's invitation to go drink something together.
When he entered the dorms and heard tiktok music come from the living room, he was a bit alarmed before he remembered how he had given you a key just so you were able to enter the dorms as well.
Walking around the corner and into the doorway towards the living room, he saw that it was indeed you who was scrolling through your phone, chuckling at some tiktoks. You hadn't even noticed him yet.
Jo smiled to himself, oh how he loved you. A bit of his energy had returned just by your presence. He leant his body against the doorway and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Hey." He said softly to which you looked up. Your eyes seemed to spark the moment you saw him which gave Jo almost a heart attack.
"Hai, sweetie!" You put your phone down and patted the spot next to you on the couch. Jo hesitated before realizing he had still one last biscuit in the fridge which he would like to eat first.
"I'll be right there." You nodded at him and watched him disappear. You looked back down at your phone, realizing your friend had send you another tiktok. You clicked on it before you heard a loud 'ya' come from the kitchen. "Y/N?!" You looked up again.
"Yes?" But you didn't receive an answer. Instead, loud and quick footsteps could be heard coming straight from the kitchen. You frowned until your big boyfriend jumped over the back of the couch and landed right next to you. "AAAH!"
His hands began to tickle you. Your phone slipped out of your own hands and onto the couch next to you. You tried to push your bigass boyfriend away but he was clearly stronger.
"Did you eat my last biscuit?!" He asked while continuing his attack on you. He would never admit it -- especially in that moment -- but your laughter was the most beautiful thing ever. (Even when you accidentally snorted)
"I didn't!" You tried to defend yourself but you were sure Jo knew better than that.
"Yes, you did! You liar!" He said, loudly. You almost couldn't breathe through your laughs. Your face was as red as a tomato but he did not stop. "First you eat my last biscuit and then you lie!"
"I'm sorry!" You yelled back, hoping he would stop or you might actually pass out. You couldn't believe this was the same shy boy you met seven months ago. As if he had read your mind, he stopped tickling you and sat back with a pout on his face. "I'm sorry."
"I saved that one specifically for when I was feeling down." He was so cute, playing pouty just to get you to feel bad. And it was working!
"I'm sorry, Jo." You responded as you cradled his face in your hands. "I didn't know. I will get you new ones, okay?" You saw his lips twitch upwards into a small smile.
"You better, I wasn't acting disappointed for nothing." You glared at him playfully to which he chuckled and pecked your lips. "I honestly do not really care about that biscuit, I'm glad you liked it."
"So, you made me feel bad for nothing?"
"Yes." Jo responded with a small nod. "Yes, I did." He pulled you closer to him and hugged you to which you groaned in annoyance. But how could you stay mad when you have such a cute boyfriend?
#&team#&team drabbles#&team scenarios#&team imagines#&team fluff#&team jo#&team jo fluff#&team jo headcanons#&team jo x reader
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To Have and to Heal (Part 11)
Masterlist
Read part 1 here
Word Count: 3.3k
Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?
TW: Descriptions of death, car crash and loss
Chicken parmesan is a staple in Martin's diet. With his homemade tomato sauce and a bit of fresh mozzarella, it's healthy enough to be a regular weeknight meal for him without having to classify it as a cheat meal. He's memorized his favorite recipe and always keeps the ingredients stocked in his fridge, which he's grateful for now. It’s easy to make as well, meaning he can operate more or less on autopilot without needing to focus too much on what he was doing.
Kieran picked up Atla from school, for which Martin was eternally grateful. From the moment Arteta dismissed them from training, Martin had exactly two hours until you would arrive at his doorstep, and he wanted to have everything plated and ready to go when you got there. He should've had more time, but Mikel insisted on rerunning one particular drill multiple times until it was perfect. Martin had thought it flawless the first three times but apparently not; it had cost him an extra half hour to appease the gaffer.
Now Martin flies around his kitchen, breading the butterflied chicken breast with practiced skill while his tomatoes sit uncut on the counter. He tackles those once the meat is in the oven, slicing and chopping until he's happy with the size. Into a simmering pot they go, combined with tomato paste and a blend of spices that he eyeballs rather than properly measures. In his mind, food turns out better when it's seasoned from the heart and not with a measuring spoon.
Once Martin has a moment to breathe, he sets about tackling the scattered art supplies and clean laundry piled around the house. Between his recent shoddy mood and the overtime he's put in at training lately, he has had little time to keep up with Atla's clutter. Normally Martin wouldn't touch it. He likes his house to feel lived in, preferring a manageable amount of disarray to a clinically clean home. Tonight is a different story. He wants to impress you; everything needs to be perfect.
Martin is still fixing his stray hairs in the hallway mirror when the doorbell rings. He spots a smudge in the glass as he swears under his breath- not perfect, but as perfect as it’s going to get.
"Hi."
"Hello." Martin can't take his eyes off you. He loves it when you dress comfortably like this, in well-loved sneakers, a pair of jeans and a red top that matches the bottle of wine in your hand. Martin gestures to it, "you didn't need to bring anything. I've not had that brand before, where's it from?"
"Oh um," you fidget on your feet, tucking the bottle in the crook of your arm and tugging the sleeves of your top over your hands. "It's from Norway? It's from some place that has a huge greenhouse, the person at the store was really excited about it. I'll be honest, I heard 'Norway' and was already sold on buying it."
God, you're adorable. Martin could kiss you, if it weren't for the fact that you're probably still cross with him. And that you deserve more than a rushed peck right now. And also, the fact that you're standing outside his house waiting to be invited in.
"Oh, please come in. Sorry, I forgot my manners there." Martin steps aside to allow you in. He politely ignores the way your eyes widen as you take in his house, allowing you to judge him as you please. He's never had an eye for decorating and he fears that much is apparent. Suddenly Martin is all too aware that the curtains in the dining room clash horribly with the pattern on the seats at the table. He sighs internally at the dried paint pallet he forgot to grab off the coffee table by the sofa and the pair of tiny pink socks peeking out from under it.
"Don't mind the mess," Martin says off hand as he takes the wine and pours two glasses. "I didn't have time to properly clean up. We got held late at training and of course I picked a dish that takes way too long to prepare, so I didn't have time for too much else."
Your slender fingers brush Martin's when you accept the glass he holds out. The sparks that sing up his arm nearly knock him off his feet. In that moment, Martin will do anything to have you forgive him. If you grant him the opportunity of a second chance, he won't squander it; he'll do everything in his power to treat you with the respect you deserve. Because that smile on your lips right now? Martin's craved like an addict, and now that he's seen it again he never wants to see any other expression from you.
"Thank you, Mar. I don't mind the mess, really. I'm too busy trying to figure out what smells so delicious to look anywhere but your spotless kitchen- is it italian?"
Martin is so grateful that you've fallen into a normal conversation that he nearly forgets to reply. "Oh- it's just chicken parmesan, one of my favorites. I hope that's alright? I can make something else if not, or I could maybe order takeout quick… I'm sorry, I didn't even think to ask if you'd like it-" Martin cuts himself off, cheeks flaring. He's acutely aware of how his fingers itch to fidget with something. He keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, playing with a stray coin that somehow made it through the wash without falling out.
"It's alright," you laugh and Martin's anxiety ebbs with the sound. "Chicken parm sounds great, it smells amazing too." You reach out and touch the side of Martin's forearm, the contact as soft as butterfly feet on his skin but it's enough to have him sighing. "Thank you for cooking. I really appreciate it."
"It's not a problem, I needed to do something to show you how sorry I am. I was out of line-" Martin stops when you shake your head, that blissfully forgiving smile on your face.
"Let's just have dinner first, okay? Then after, we can talk. Does that sound alright to you?"
Martin swears you're perfect. He's done denying it; he's enjoying this too much to pretend he doesn't feel pulled to you like waves to a shoreline. Martin would like to take you there actually- the beach. He'd love to see you building sandcastles with Atla, then splashing in the water when the blazing sun gets too warm. Maybe he could suggest it as a date this summer-
When you wave a hand in front of Martin's face, he realizes you've been speaking without him hearing a single word. At this point, you're causing enough distraction that Martin should be terrified… except he's not.
"I'm sorry I'm out of it- come sit and I'll get everything served up." Hearing his mum's content praise in his head, Martin pulls out a chair for you and pushes it in once you've sat down. Then he plates up a healthy portion of buttery green beans onto a plate for you, alongside a piece of chicken that, honestly, makes his mouth water. He hopes it's as good as it usually is.
"Here you are," Martin murmurs, one hand braced on the back of your chair as he sets the meal in front of you. He takes a seat across from you, settling in and placing his napkin over his lap. He feels like somewhat of an imposter, pretending to be fancy when he feels anything but, though the shine in your eyes as you wait for him to speak makes his breath hitch.
"Um, bon appétit? I hope you like it." Martin waits until your attention is on your food to carefully cut into his own meal. Yes, his hands are shaking; no he's never been this nervous over a dinner. Not even when he met with the big wigs at Arsenal to discuss a move from Madrid.
Martin nearly chokes when you moan after the first bite. "God this is amazing Martin, I didn't expect you to be such a great cook!" Martin finally takes a bite himself, delighted when the perfectly melted cheese and crispy breading hits his tongue. Normally he isn’t one to brag, but this may be some of his best work to date.
With his nerves eased, Martin falls into comfortable conversation for the remainder of the meal. You ask for seconds, so he delivers. You're happily surprised when he brings out a cheesecake for dessert- and he's rewarded with your beautiful laugh when he tells you how he had to fend off little fingers from snagging a bite this morning.
Once your fork is down, however, Martin knows it's time for the serious bits. He's dreaded this all day, creating a script in his head of exactly what he wants to say. He's not ready, but he's as prepared as he'll ever be.
"So," Martin starts, "first off I have to thank you for giving me a second chance. And for trusting me to make up to you for my actions last week."
Martin hates himself for the way your eyes fall to the ivy patterns on the tablecloth. He hates that he can see the fear that brims in you now at the reminder of how angry he'd been. All he wants to do is set it right.
"I trust you because I know it was a one time thing, right?"
"Yes- yes absolutely," Martin murmurs quickly. "And I promised you that I'd explain- can I show you something actually?"
"Oh- yes, sure, you can." Martin stretches a hand out, heart pounding as you hold him on edge. It takes a few seconds for you to decide but eventually your soft palm slides against his, your fingers curling to wrap around his own. It's right. It's home. It's perfect. Martin can't hold back his smile, so he lets it unfurl as he leads you upstairs, going slow so you can take your time looking at the photos scattered on the wall.
"All of these are just you and Atla," you note absently, turning to Martin like you expected more. You probably did, considering his closeness with the rest of the team. Martin's nod sends a lock of hair tumbling free to fall across his forehead and he doesn't bother fixing it.
"That's a recent change," he explains in a voice full of gravel. "So is this room here. It was Maria's studio." Martin points to the white door at the end of the hall, the one he spent far too long avoiding.
"Your wife," you murmur softly, squeezing Martin's hand when he nods, throat too tight to speak. "You've never told me her name before."
"I uh, I don't talk about her too much. It still hurts, you know?" Martin's smile feels forced, but he's grateful for the steady support your hand provides him. "Come on, come with me."
You don't speak as you let Martin lead you to the only closed door in his house. The brass knob is cold, but he was expecting that. He pushes it open, a million memories rushing in with the first step he takes. The wooden planks creak softly beneath his feet as he leads you to the center of the room, getting lost for a minute.
Over the past week, Martin has channeled his extra energy into transforming this room from one filled with ghosts to a place where his daughter's creativity can run wild. Where towering stacks of cardboard boxes used to sit near the window, now sits a wooden toddler-sized easel. The half painted canvases that were haphazardly piled where he's standing now are neatly stacked on an art rack, waiting for Atla to complete them someday. And on the wall that the room shares with his own bedroom is the collection of paintings he loves most: Norwegian fields, family portraits, and the last painting his late wife ever created.
"Oh, Martin, these are beautiful." You keep a respectful distance, admiring the artwork from afar. "Did Maria paint all these? They're wonderful… I see where Atla's talent stems from."
"This one is my favorite," Martin murmurs, pointing to the portrait of a smiling baby girl perched in his lap. "It's the last one Maria ever finished. It's the only one I have of Atla and I together."
Martin draws a deep breath, chest rattling with the effort of holding back tears. "I've not talked about this with anyone except the grief counselor- so please just bear with me."
The fingers of your free hand curl around Martin's bicep to provide five pinpricks of safety. Your touch, the pressure of your fingers on his tense muscles, grounding him, keeping him present, as if saying I'm here, I'm listening and I'll let you speak. A silent promise to stay by his side. I'm not going anywhere. Your closeness, the smell of your rosy shampoo mixed with generic laundry detergent, the quiet unsteady breaths, heavy with anticipation, the floor creaking under your weight as you shift from one leg to the other, most likely a byproduct of nerves.
You, your proximity, feels like a single match in the otherwise pitch black darkness, the same darkness that always clouds the man's mind, serving as a guiding light, always promising to bring him back home. Home to Arsenal. Home to you. Home to safety, home to Atla.
And somehow, in this otherwise dreadful moment- Martin has never been more grateful for you.
"The reason I hate storms is because that's what killed her. Not directly, but it was the storm of the century that night, or at least that's what I was told afterward. She was coming home from her art lessons at the senior home across town… I told her to cancel, but Maria was always the woman who would never cancel a commitment once she made it. I loved that about her."
Martin has never spoken about loving Maria in past tense until tonight.
"The uh… the stoplight down the street got knocked down with the winds. There was a ton of construction a little ways away, I guess they were just finishing up for the night. A- faen what is it… the big things with all the wheels- a truck? A truck- filled with sand or dirt or whatever it was had just left, headed towards the main road to get out and get home."
Martin pauses. The night replays in his brain the same way it has thousands of times. It's haunted him, trying to imagine exactly what happened that night, his mind drawing a dozen different scenarios each more gruesome than the last.
Martin knows he couldn't have saved her, but he wishes he could've eased her pain. Been a loving face for her to see in her final moments.
"The truck driver didn't see her. And since there was no signal, he didn't think to look… He- he blew right through it. He slammed right into her car as she was going through. Not his fault- how would he have known? He was just trying to get home to his own family."
"Mar…"
Martin is aware of your arms wrapped around his middle, though he doesn't remember it happening. He can't take his eyes off that painting of him smiling down at Atla, happy as can be. His vision tilts and shifts as tears well in his eyes. Martin is dimly aware of the paths they streak on his cheeks.
"There was pieces everywhere. Shattered glass like that stuff at parades- confetti? And broken plastic… blood, so much blood. The driver was crying- all I remember was this… numbness? I was cold, and wet- Kieran was there I think, or he was at the house with Atla… its all blurry."
"The doctors said it was almost instant, that she didn't feel much at all. I just hope that's true, I hope she didn't realize what was happening. That painting, the one I love so much? It was untouched in the crash- the car was mangled but that painting was perfect, not even a drop of rain on it when I pulled it out. Maria made it that night, from a photo reference she'd brought with her."
Your sniffle is what tears Martin out of his head. He wraps his arms firmly around your shoulders, holding you to him while you muffle your sobs in his chest. "That's why I hate storms, and that's why I freaked out. I know it's not an excuse for how I acted, but maybe it'll help you understand why I reacted how I did. And I'm working through it, I promise- I made an appointment with a woman who specializes in helping people overcome their fears, I'm seeing her later this month. I'm gonna work on it, because I want you to know I'm serious about this."
The only noise is Martin's breathing and your soft crying. He's not sure how long he stands there cradling you, but he'll do it for however long you need. Like he wishes someone had done for him years ago.
"Serious about what," you ask minutes later, pulling back just enough to wipe your eyes. Martin wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss away the tears on your cheeks, to erase the heartache you feel on his behalf.
"About you, us, this relationship." Martin cradles your jaw in his hands, holding you with the softness one would use with a delicate flower. “No one has seen this room yet, not even Atla. I wanted it to be a surprise for her. But before I did that, I just… I needed to show you. So you would understand. I’m still healing- but I’m trying to heal quicker so I can be someone you can lean on.”
“Martin… Hey, look at me.” When Martin does as you ask, everything crashes over him at once. The crushing, soul splitting despair he felt on the night of the accident, the spark of affection that ignited a flame in his chest the first time he heard you laugh, the relief of finally sharing his story with someone.
But finally, in the deepest part of him, he lets go. Martin allows the love he held for Maria to loosen it’s deathgrip on his heart and allows you to creep in. It’s worrisome, how easily you sneak in and nestle yourself into him, but he doesn’t care. He meant what he said; Martin is willing to try for you. He wants this to work.
“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Your thumbs rubbing along Martin’s jaw ground him. “I don’t want you to rush through recovery for my benefit. I hate seeing you struggle, of course I do, but I’ll wait as long as it takes, alright? Don’t feel like you need to put yourself on a timeline for me. I’ll wait, Mar, okay? Just keep trusting me.”
And Martin believes every word. He trusts you to be patient. You'll be at his side on the good days and the bad ones, when the residuals of his grief threaten to pull him under. It won't be an easy road, or a short one. Recovery will be barred by landslides and long stretches of obstacles.
You are the light at the end of his tunnel. You are the goal he will work towards- you and Atla. Being a better man for the women in his life, both past and present.
#tw#martin odegaard#martin odegaard fanfic#martin Ødegaard#martin odegaard imagine#martin ødegaard#martin odegaard fic#martin odegaard fanfiction#martin odegaard fantasy#arsenal fc#jac writes#alt timeline lover
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There.
***
“You think I eat enough lettuce?”
Michael looked up from where he was working at the kitchen table, and blinked at Alex, sure he’d heard him wrong. “What?”
Alex looked over his shoulder at him from where he stood in front of the open fridge. His brows were furrowed like even he was sure he couldn’t have said what he’d just said. Then he said it again, “Do you think . . . do you think I eat enough lettuce?”
Michael stared. Alex did not look like he was joking. “Lettuce,” he repeated.
“Well, I . . .” the furrow in his brows deepened and he rubbed his temple. “Ramos was saying lettuce is good for the eyes, and . . . I stare at my screen a lot . . . you know, for work . . .”
“Yeah,” Michael said slowly. What was happening right now? “I know what your job is, baby, are you okay?”
“Hm?” Alex looked groggily in the direction of where Michael was before his eyes focused. “Yeah, so . . . but do you think I eat enough of it though? To warrant . . . all that screen time?”
“Alex,” he said, letting go of whatever tools he’d been holding as he stood from the table, “when was the last time you slept?”
As he approached, Michael noticed things he hadn’t earlier; the dark circles under Alex’s eyes had turned even darker, his hair even messier than usual, and his eyes kept twitching to a spot over Michael’s left shoulder and back to Michael’s face, like he couldn’t really tell where Michael was.
“Um,” he said slowly, trying to remember. Michael should’ve talked to him sooner, but they hadn’t gotten to see each other much over the past two weeks. It wasn’t unusual for Alex’s work to go on so long, and he always made time to kiss away the distance in the late hours of the night or the earliest hours of the morning before he had to hurry away again. Michael hated it, but he also got pretty wrapped up in his own work sometimes with the star alignments and didn’t want to be a hypocrite.
They were very rare instances, when Michael complained about Alex’s work. And all to do with Alex’s own well-being.
“Baby, hey, look at me,” Michael said, taking Alex’s face in his hands to help him meet his gaze better. He was trying to speak softly, but the idea of Alex yet again awake for his sixth day in a row was leaving an edge in his voice. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Um,” he said again, shutting eyes and shaking his head (as little as he was able to with Michael holding him in place). “Tuesday, I think? But, Guerin, seriously, the tomatoes.”
“Lettuce.”
“What’d I say?”
Michael sighed, searching Alex’s face for any signs of oncoming fever or migraines. No, not yet. For now, this was nothing but plain, severe exhaustion. Michael had the horrible feeling that if he let go of Alex now he would fall to the ground.
“Okay,” Michael finally said to Alex who was staring through the open fridge without really seeing anything, holding his arms and all but frog marching him to the bedroom. “Why don’t we get some sleep, okay?”
“Sleep?” Alex’s frown deepened and he shut his eyes, shaking his head. “No, Guerin, I’ve got . . . um . . . I don’t remember, but I’m sure it’s important.”
“I don’t care,” Michael said simply. “I don’t care if Roswell’s about to burn to the ground and your work is the only thing that’ll save it, I want you in bed.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Never.”
“I can handle it.”
“Probably.”
“Then stop taking me to the bedroom, let me work.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Michael stopped and turned Alex around to face him by his shoulders. “Tell me your full name, right now.”
Alex blinked. “Alex Manes.”
“Wrong.” Michael turned him back around towards the bedroom and led him down the hallway.
“Oh crap,” Alex closed his eyes. “Guerin, I meant Guerin.”
“Too late, you got it wrong.”
“That’s just because you call me Manes, and I—I get confused,” he argued, rubbing his eyes again.
“Nice try.”
“Damn it,” he grumbled. “Why do you still call me Manes anyway?”
Michael got him into the room and closed the door in case he tried to escape. “Do you hate it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“No,” Alex said, which Michael had known, but then he said, “You do,” which he had not.
Michael tilted his head. “You think I hate your name?”
Alex considered the bed as though just realizing it was there. Now that he was so close to the sheets and the soft pillows, Michael happily noted, he seemed to be losing resolve.
“Don’t you?” he murmured, still rubbing his eyes. Michael helped closed the distance between Alex and their bed, seating him on the edge of it and working his prosthetic off so he very literally could not escape.
“No, baby,” Michael chuckled and kissed Alex’s knee. “I don’t hate your name, it’s your name. I love it.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.”
“You hate my family.”
“I hate most of your family,” he agreed.
“But my name—”
“—Is your name,” Michael kissed further up Alex’s leg before hooking an arm under his knees and lifting his legs onto the bed. “Not your family. Yours. I fell in love with Alex Manes, Private. That’ll always mean something to me.”
Alex’s hair splayed against his pillow, his eyes fluttering already, but he watched Michael as Michael pulled the blankets up to his chin and tucked away his phone so that it wouldn’t wake him up with any calls or messages.
“How’d I get so lucky?” he murmured, the pinch in his brows still there, and Michael knew he was genuinely asking.
Michael smoothed the furrow with his thumb, brushed back Alex’s bangs, and kissed his forehead. "I think that’s my line, Manes. Now, go to sleep and try not to wake up until tomorrow morning. You’ve got a few days to make up for.”
#alex manes#michael guerin#malex#malex fic#roswell new mexico#roswell nm#tyler blackburn#michael vlamis
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Aisle 5
Riri Williams x Fem!reader
(YES I KNOW THIS WAS A DAY LATE I FORGOT TO POST IT)
Summary: Riri works at a grocery for money when she's not doing her homework hustles. Fortunately, that caused you guys to meet figuring out y'all go to the same college. What else could you potentially find out?
Warnings: Mature Language and it's a lil short that's it tbh
-- Your Perspective--
It was time for another grocery run. I did like these because in this time of the year, the breeze can be just right and that was rare in Chicago. "Here's the list for what we need" My best friend Niyah spoke as she handed it to me. "Appreciate it. I'll be back in 20 minutes" She nodded dapping me up for safe travels. I made it to my car and got my playlist ready because I can't drive in silence for shit. After a couple minutes, I arrived and parked my car in the lot locking it multiple times because as I said before, I'm in Chicago.
I walked in taking out the grocery list to see what I need to get.
Ground Beef
Onions
Tomatoes
Milk
Rice
Cheese
Bread
It wasn't a lot probably because food doesn't go quickly in my dorm. I managed to get everything I needed in a short time but that didn't stop me from trying to get something I wanted. I looked all over the aisles for some hot fries but they were nowhere to be found. "Where the fuck are these chips?" I mumble.
"Aisle 5"
A silky and smooth voice spoke behind me causing me turn around. It was a female with glowing features and a scent that smelled like vanilla and oak wood. She was only an inch taller but I still could feel her dominant demeanor. She was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. "Helloo?" I snapped out of the trance I was in focusing on her words. "h-huh?" I spoke. "Aisle 5 is where all the chips are" She gave me a smile that could swoon every single person in this store.
"Follow me and I'll show you" She began walking and I went with her. "So, you from here?" She asks. "Yep born and raised. How 'bout you?" She nodded as a response. "You look like you're about my age. What college do you go to?" "MIT" She stopped in her tracks looking back at me surprised. "That's crazy I go there too. I ain't never seen someone as pretty as you in MIT before. My names Riri and your..."
"I'm Y/N. I guess the feelings are mutual because you are very beautiful" I could tell I was boosting her ego the way she was grinning ear to ear. "Well Y/N, can I get your number" She asked already pulling out her phone from her pocket. I nodded putting my number into her phone. "Appreciate it. From here Aisle 5 is just on your left. I'll text you soon ma." We waved goodbye as she walked away. "Holy shit" was all I could say for what just happened.
My smile never left as I grabbed the chips I wanted and headed to the register to ring the items up. After doing that, I walked out of the store happier than ever before on these nice days.
DING
Unknown: You free Saturday night?
It just keeps getting better and better.
-- Part 2?--
#riri wiliams x reader#shuri x reader#shuri x y/n#hood!riri#dominique thorne#letitia wright#riri x reader#letitia wright fanfic
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