prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you'
warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), ollie is whipped, fingering, handjob
oliver takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great self-control and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all oliver is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.
cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of oliver thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. oliver is losing his mind.
'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'
soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'
you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. oliver decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately oliver had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.
'babe, where's my phone?'
'right over he- oh!' oliver turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'
there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'ollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'
'right-right,' oliver lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'
you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, oliver. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'
oliver is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'
'no-no!' oliver rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'
you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'
oliver huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' oliver shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'
you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, ollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect it. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'
oliver roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'
your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, bearman.'
a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once ollie registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all.
'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'
he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'
in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'
oh, this is a fantastic question, one that oliver is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'
your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'
another brilliant question. he gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'
and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. oliver is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, ollie.'
it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if oliver could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.
'oliver,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.
he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.
'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- ollie, i need-'
oliver moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.
'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.
your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.
'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'
you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'
oliver curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'
honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed.
'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.
'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.
'and a nap,'oliver nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'
he wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will have to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'
'how polite,' ollie snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'
your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.
a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think! - nini <3
writing list for f1 is here
you can always come to my inbox and request something of your own!
amidst all jokes about charles never leaving ferrari, you gotta respect his dedication. his belief, his trust. as someone who can't care less about leclerc in general, i do hope one day this all will be rewarded and his dream will come true. sometimes i look at him and think that he'd be happier with constructors win than drivers championship and i honestly hope he'll see both with this team.
I actually do think we should discourage women from becoming housewives. Do not become financially dependent on a man. That's how a lot of women ended up dead over the years. A man gets violent suddenly and you have to choose between homelessness or potentially dying at his hand because you have an enormous gap in your resume and no degrees or certifications or anything that will help you pursue a career that will allow you to be financially independent. He owns your bank account. His name is probably the one on the car. Try and leave and he can report it stolen. Where will you go then?
And if you do become a housewife, take steps to protect yourself. Make sure you’re legally married, for starters; stay-at-home girlfriends have very little legal recourse to claim their partner’s assets in a breakup. Make sure your name is on the house deed/rental agreement, and have your car in your name, even if your spouse is paying for it. Have your spouse transfer money every month into an account solely in your name, so you can buy yourself things without needing permission, but also so you can save up to leave if needed.
If your spouse fights you on any of this, then don’t quit your job. The tradwife to poverty pipeline is real, and so is financial abuse.
also, many women/people experience controlling behaviour and domestic violence from their partner for the first time during pregnancy. don’t risk thinking “he’s just stressed, it’ll get better when the baby comes” because it won’t. neither you and your child will ever be safe with that man. get out as early and safely as you can
amidst all jokes about charles never leaving ferrari, you gotta respect his dedication. his belief, his trust. as someone who can't care less about leclerc in general, i do hope one day this all will be rewarded and his dream will come true. sometimes i look at him and think that he'd be happier with constructors win than drivers championship and i honestly hope he'll see both with this team.
prompt: 'i've never done this before' + 'i just want to please you'
warnings: nsfw (minors, i'm looking at all of you, skip this work!), ollie is whipped, fingering, handjob
oliver takes it slow. it's a miracle that you even agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place and he is not about to fuck it all up by rushing and making mistakes. he's a perfect gentleman, he prides himself in having a great self-control and he's also absolutely terrified of messing up this chance of being with you, so. he takes it slow. his kisses never stray away from your lips and his hands are yet to map out every curve of your body cause he keeps them positioned strategically at your waist at all times. in those two months of dating he never stayed over at your place and never indicated that he wants to move things further, never pushed. all in all oliver is a perfect picture of someone who takes. it. slow. he's also a perfect picture of someone who's on the brink of losing his goddamn mind.
cause you don't exactly make it easy for him. part of oliver thinks that you're doing this on purpose, but another part doesn't want to believe in it. you can't be testing him on purpose, right? all those breathy sighs into the kiss, your fingers that caress his torso and then drop too low right next to his belt, you sitting on his lap and wiggling to get comfortable - you can't be that cruel, right? on any day he'd never think of you as anything less of an angel, but right now he is not sure. your simple 'help me pick an outfit for tonight's party' request sounded very innocent, but you closing the door and starting to undress right in front of him? sinful. devilish. oliver is losing his mind.
'i just need to freshen up,' you gesture towards the bathroom, taking off your hoodie. 'you can sit wherever, i'll take a quick shower and then we can choose, yeah? i want us to match!'
soft smile graces his features as he stares at your excited face. your desire to wear matching clothes is too cute and he is always ready to indulge you. 'sure babe, whatever you want.'
you smile, sending him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. oliver decidedly doesn't think of your state of nakedness right behind that door and turns around, getting himself comfortable on your bed. in truth, he doesn't really know how to...move forward. and the worst part is not like you asked him to take it slow. no, he decided so himself but lately oliver had a hard time remembering the reasons behind this decision. he'd wait for you as long as needed if you asked so, but when you didn't he is a bit at loss. his hands itch to explore your body, his lips long to kiss you all over and he doesn't know how to breach this subject. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable but the more he thinks about it, the more thought of talking it out with you seems to be logical.
'babe, where's my phone?'
'right over he- oh!' oliver turns his head so quickly, he hears a loud crack of his neck. image of you wrapped only in a towel will not leave his mind anytime soon. 'sorry! sorry. um, i didn't mean to look, honestly. your phone is-' he reaches out and hands it to you, still turned around, '-here, yeah it's here.'
there's a silence and then he hears soft chuckle. 'ollie, if i didn't want you to look, i would have wore clothes before going out.'
'right-right,' oliver lets out automatically before meaning behind your words fully sinks in. when it does, he whips his head back, staring at you dumbfounded. 'what?'
you smile at his confused face, stepping closer. 'you heard me, oliver. or i can repeat the whole walking out thing again if you want.'
oliver is not sure how he is supposed to react. his brain shuts down for few seconds, taking few more seconds to restart but this time when he's silent is enough to make you feel insecure. he sees how smile slips up from your face, getting replaced with downward quirk of your lips and frown. he hates that but before his tongue can remember how words work, you mutter: 'hey, i didn't want to pressure, i was just kidding, sorry-'
'no-no!' oliver rushes out to say, fumbling with his words as he shots up from the bed to stand close to you. you look so fragile with your shoulders hunched and looking like he might reject you, which honestly is never an option and he needs to make it clear as a day to you. 'please don't apologise, i just blanked out on you in a moment.'
you look up to check whether thats true or not and then smile, raising your eyebrow in a flirtatious way. 'should i take it for a compliment that you blanked out seeing me half naked?'
oliver huffs, stepping a bit closer. his hands fall automatically on your hips and he smiles as you instantly sway closer. 'i didn't want to impose,' he explains, carefully choosing his words. 'you and i, we...we are taking it slow, so. i'm kind of-' oliver shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hips. it's hard to find words when you're smelling so good and your skin is still moist and- 'at loss, i guess.'
you chew on your bottom lip, thinking. 'why exactly are we taking it slow, ollie? is this what you want? if that's what you want then of course i will respect it. but if it's for my sake then i don't really care, to be honest. but if you don't want me-'
oliver roughly pulls you close, inhales floral scent of your shampoo and breathes out, trying to put words into sentences. he doesn't want to hear the end of your sentence, can't bear the thought of you feeling like this; he wants to be romantic, wants to sweep you off your feet, but only raw honesty is on his tongue when he whispers: 'i want you. so much. always, all the time.' when he opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with you, wanting you to know that he is not joking around. 'never doubt that, never.'
your eyes glaze over and you lick your lips nervously; this little action makes him swallow loudly. 'then...' you place your hands on his belt, looking up. 'make a move, bearman.'
a permission. a verbal one, when you're fully in your right mind - once ollie registers that, he has to take a deep breath. in a second he's overwhelmed with all of the options: where he can touch, kiss, seeing you naked, the positions - his fingers start to shake a little from realization that he is free to do it all.
'i've never done this before,' he hears you whisper. 'i mean-never been this forward.'
he hums, drawing soothing circles on your hips. your towel is really getting in the way and he gets bold enough to tug on it, letting the fabric fall down. it gets a hitch in breath from you and growing smirk from him in return. 'you being this forward,' he whispers, closing in so he's practically whispering in your mouth, 'is very, very sexy.'
in truth it does thing to him that are hard to explain, because whole blood rushes away from his brain and moves lower, making it hard to keep his composure. you're finally in his arms in the way that he wanted and to have you fully naked and him fully clothes is really too much for him to handle. you glance at him with a small smirk of your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
'you find me sexy?' you ask and he is so far gone, you really don't even have to try and be seductive, every move of yours captures his heart in a deadlock. 'what else?'
oh, this is a fantastic question, one that oliver is ready to answer even if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he leans in, starting to press kisses at each part of your face as he speaks: 'i find you sexy, yes. and absolutely irressistible, and stunning. so, so stunning. you're unreal.'
your giggle when he kisses up your neck makes him smile and he lets you go just to shrug off his jacket. 'i am real,' you assure him, not so subtly tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. then you suddenly look up, serious. 'what do you want to do?'
another brilliant question. he gathers you back in his arms once he took off his t-shirt. 'i just want to please you.'
and that's really it. in the bottom of it all is just his immense desire to please you, make you feel good. oliver is ready to make this his lifelong purpose, he hopes you are ready for it. at his reply your eyes twinkle and you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear: 'green light on everything, ollie.'
it's a mess from then on. one minute you two are standing in a hug and then he's between your legs, leaving kisses all over inside of your thighs while his fingers gently pry you open. if oliver could choose, he'd gladly die right here and now. in between your legs, getting to touch your body, hearing those sinful sounds leave your mouth - that's a good way to go. his own arousal pushes at his jeans in an uncomfortable manner, but it doesn't matter for him now. he is completely lost in your world, can spend hours right in this position, massaging supple and soft flesh of your thighs, pushing his fingers again and again in your velvety heat, leaving his little marks all over you. everything about you is addictive: your body, your taste, your sounds. he wants to memorize everything now, but realization that this is not his last time has him reeling this desire back; god, just the knowledge of him having so much time with you in the future has his knees buckling.
'oliver,' you keen at the of the third finger and he smiles, when you try to close your legs together.
he wants to see your face and he moves higher, trailing kisses wherever he can reach, stopping at your collarbones. you're breathing heavily and he slips down to give all of his attention to your chest, smirking at you groaning. he speeds up his fingers and his jaw slackens in awe when you start moving along, chasing your high with a loud whine, grabbing his bicep for support. 'fuck- yes, c'mon, take what you want, love,' he lets out, eyes fixed on the way your hips move.
'oh my god,' your nails dig painfully into his skin. 'i'm- ollie, i need-'
oliver moves down swiftly, knowing exactly what you need. his lips close around the nub and he sucks in time with his fingers, making you cry out. your legs shake when you climax and whole body grows taut for few seconds before relaxing, sagging back into the bed. he grins, leaning down to lap up at your juices. your skin is glowing with light sheen of sweat and he wonders will you be disgusted or not if he licks it off.
'feeling okay?' he asks quietly, moving up until he's facing you.
your eyes focus on him after few moments and you smile, nodding. your hand reaches out to his belt and he catches it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 'what about you?' you ask, frowning.
'i'll take care of it,' he says. 'you are tired and don't even argue about it.'
you pout but don't argue - you are tired. this day has been dreadful and after an orgasm all you wanna do is just roll over and fall asleep. however, leaving him high and dry is not what you want, so you stubbornly reach out for his jeans, ignoring his groan of protest. 'handjob?' you ask, looking up at your boyfriend. 'blowjob?'
oliver curses under his breath; how can someone look so cute when these kind of words leave their mouth? he sighs, pulling you in and whispering into your hair: 'handjob.'
honestly, he's so pent up that even few strokes from you will do it but he tries to hold on, not wanting to leave a bad impression. so he grits his teeth and tries to think unsexy thoughts when you caress his shaft slowly before picking up your speed.
'let go,' you whisper - command? - into his ear and he follows your order easily like it's the most natural thing in the world. you swallow up all his sounds with a kiss and his midn blissfully drifts in and out until he comes back to reality, when you reach out behind him for a tissue.
'shower?' you ask, looking at him with a warm smile.
'and a nap,'oliver nods. 'want me to go first and fix the temperature?'
he wants nothing more than to lay here and fall asleep with you, but he knows how you hate sweat and how you hate cold water and having to wait for it to warm up, so his want will have to wait. you nod gratefully, smiling at how well he knows you. 'yes please.'
'how polite,' ollie snickers but stands up, tucking his jeans away and rushing to the bathroom. he stands there for a while, waiting for water to warm up and then grabs two new towels before calling you in. 'all is ready, your highness, please do come in.'
your laugh makes his heart beat louder in his chest and he sighs in satisfaction when you drop a kiss at his forehead before going in. this evening turned out to be something else and he's never been more glad of it.
a/n: so.many.feelings in this smut, this got out of control when i started writing it. let me know what you think! - nini <3
writing list for f1 is here
you can always come to my inbox and request something of your own!
“george’s ego is too high” brother if i were george russell the next race would end with 17 dnfs, an fia investigation and a 6-part netflix documentary
steady. this is what oscar appreciates the most about you. waves can come crushing, thunder can roll over with a shout, but your resilience doesn't waver even for a second. oscar appreciates consistency (something that not a lot of people can manage) in your actions and behaviours; you amaze him in that way. when you two were introduced to each other, from the very day one you appeared to be kind and respectful and after two years nothing changed. you were constantly good and it took him embarrassing amount of time to realize that his awe with you has a romantic undertone. that your constant occupation of his thoughts was not due to you two being good friends. that his desire for your steady presence went beyond what one feels for another in platonic relationships. you were good and you were steady and oscar piastri selfishly wanted it all for himself.
he often wondered if you ever felt heavy. caring so much for people around you, having to be the rock for them to lean on, always being responsible for everything and everyone. he often wondered if you find all these things to be burdensome, if you ever just want to let go and give away those responsibilities. do you really want it? he wants to ask when you volunteer to be a leader. do you need help? he wants to ask when you brush off someone else's worries about you. do you feel lonely? he wants to ask when you stay up late all on your own. oscar goes tongue-tied and instead of asking those questions, he settles for quietly being next to you. he may not offer the right words, but he can take care of you in his own ways; little ways, yes, but no less meaningful.
'osc?' you look up in surprise, when his figure casts a shadow on your table. 'what are you doing here?' taking a look over your shoulder at the clock on the wall, you glance back at him with a frown. 'it's one am.'
'i can ask you the same thing. it is one am, what are you doing in the library?'
he smiles at the way you stare at him indignantly. 'i need to finish our group project, deadline for submission is tomorrow morning.'
of course you are the one finishing this project. of course you are the one who's sitting in the library at one am, fixing presentation, going over slides, checking everything. oscar is part of your group and he takes small relief in the fact that his part is polished and you won't spend much time on it.
'and i brought sandwiches,' he puts his backpack on the chair and pulls out few wrapped chicken sandwiches from there. they're still warm and he smiles happily, putting two right in front of you. 'fuel for brains, so you'd finish this up faster.'
smile that you send his way leaves him in ruins. 'thank you, osc.'
oscar nods. he gives you an excuse that he'll go and bring you two tea but in reality he needs a breather, because you don't control the force of your smiles and you have no idea what they do to him. he massages lightly left side of his chest where heart is supposed to be and sighs, settling for two cups of green tea in cafeteria. he wishes... for a lot, actually, but at most he just wants to be next to you. he assigned to himself this role of your friend, because even the rock on who everybody leans on will someday need to lean on someone else. oscar lives in futile hopes that maybe he'll be there at that moment. maybe you'll see something else in him, something apart from just a fellow classmate or a good friend. maybe you'll look at him in that moment and will see all of his devotion and his readiness to just..stay here and not leave. stay right next to you.
'your tea is ready.'
he takes steaming cups and carefully makes his way back to the library. oscar sometimes thinks that you know. that you are aware of his feelings towards you and just pretend not to notice so it won't complicate your friendship. sometimes he thinks that maybe you don't know for sure but that you have an inkling, a guess. option in which you have no idea about his feelings is not on the table, because you are very attentive and his special treatment for you could not have escaped your gaze. he doesn't really know nor understand reasons for your silence regarding his feelings, but he doesn't question them. what you two have now is good and steady and it's almost enough. something tells him that this situation will resolve itself without his direct involvement and he follows his inner voice, not confessing.
oscar looks up from the stairs and notices you standing at the entrance to the library, waving to him with a smile on your face. you look tired and bags under your eyes grow more and more prominent with each passing day, but he still finds it hard to look away from you, still can stare at you all day and night and find it incredibly entertaining.
'figured you'd need help with the door,' you say lightly, gesturing to his occupied hands. holding door open for him, you take a peak at the cups, smiling: 'green tea? you're saviour, oscar.'
your words settle against him like a warm blanket, like a much needed hug. there's no one in the library apart from you two but you both still keep quiet, voices hushed and low by a habit.
'is there a lot left? in presentation, i mean.'
'not much, around 5-6 slides,' you help him by taking one cup from his hands. 'why are you here? i don't think you came at this hour to the library to give me sandwiches.'
but i did though. oscar first thinks he'll just dodge the question but his sleep deprived mind refuses to come up with anything, so instead he lets out a rather provocative: 'is it really that hard to believe that i came exactly for that?'
he knows it's a wrong thing to say the second words leave his mouth. you don't meet his eyes and everything in your posture screams tension. it's too late to take the words back, so oscar lives few horrible seconds with knowledge of his own fuck up. you're not helping the situation by staying silent, so he blurts out the truth: 'i just want to help.'
at this you look up, raising your right eyebrow. 'with the presentation?'
'no,' he answers honestly because apparently his brain has a trouble with letting him say anything but the truth. 'although if you need help with that then of course i'll help.'
you lean back, staring at him with a quiet challenge in your eyes. there's determination set deep in your features and he loves you for it, for your ability to push forward even when you're uncomfortable, for your constant need to get to the bottom of something. 'if you're here to not help with presentation then with what?'
you know the answer just like he knows the answer. you're almost daring him to say it, challenging him and oscar usually never raises to the bait, but this doesn't feel like one, not really. he mostly feels like this is some kind of test only you know the meaning of and he has to pass it. 'to help you,' he says, looking straight into your eyes. 'someone has to.'
words hit too close to home, it's obvious by the way your jaw locks and how you bite your bottom lip. your eyes water and your voice cracks in the end as you ask: 'and you think i need help? do i look like someone who needs help?'
venom in your voice doesn't deter him. oscar knows you too well, he learned to circle those high walls you built, he managed to climb on top of them all during these two years and he knows your defensive mechanisms as back of his hand. 'everyone needs help,' he says, staying elusive but answering your question at the same time. 'and everyone needs someone to take care of them. including you.'
you're barely holding your tears back, he can tell. he wishes you wouldn't. he wishes you'd cry freely in front of him, wishes you'd find his presence comforting enough to let go. 'asking for help and leaning on someone does not make you weak,' he continues in a hushed whisper that pierces your heart like an arrow. 'knowing your limits is a sign of maturity. you can't do everything on your own, that's stupid and reckless. and you're neither of these things.'
this gains him a small smile from you and a watery laugh. few tears escape your eyes and you quickly wipe them off without turning away. small victories, he guesses. 'that was a nice ted talk,' you mumble, taking a deep breath to calm down. your eyes are full with unshed tears when you look back at him again. 'and? is that you saying that you are the one who will help me and take care of me?'
oscar licks his lips. 'i like to think that this is what i've been doing for the past year at least.'
you lock your arms over your chest, shutting off from him. 'as a friend. with no ulterior motives, i hope.'
'you know that there were none.' oscar holds his voice steady even if he is offended by your words. he knows you don't mean them that way, knows it's just another test. 'don't insult me like that.'
your expression crumbles and you hide your face behind your hands in a loose attempt of not showing him your tears. your shoulders shake a little but you quickly regain control of yourself back, sniffling. 'i'm sorry,' you say and then repeat again, clearing your voice: 'i'm sorry, you are right, i know that there were none. i don't know why i said that, i'm sorry. it's just-' you take a deep breath, curling into a little ball on the chair. '-i think you don't..know me? like you know one version of me and you think so highly of me and in truth i..' you look over your laptop and then back at wonwoo. 'i hate it all. i hate being a leader, and i hate having to finish all these stupid presentations and-'
you fall silent and oscar lets silence linger in the air between you two, not saying anything too. he's not surprised at all, because he knew all of it. he just hopes you feel better saying it all out loud. 'tea is getting cold,' he says quietly after a while.
you blink out of your thoughts at his worsd and huff, remembering about your cup. maybe it's the wrong move to say something right now, but oscar fears there might never been another night like this, so he goes for it: 'i don't think anything less of you. you can say a lot of things like that and they don't make you a monster that you're really trying to make me see in you. i won't give up on you. even if you decide to tell everyone to fuck off and ask someone else to lead, even if you decide it's time for you to turn into a hermit. i'll stay right next to you anyway. because you are a good person. core of you, base of you is good. your heart is pure gold and i'll stand by it no matter what.'
that's my confession, he thinks, staring at your wide eyes. my love confession to you. and he knows you understand. he knows from your wide opened eyes that you know it was a love confession. all you can do is accept or reject it and he is fine with both options, truly. as long as he can stand next to you, like a friend or like a lover, he is fine with it all.
'i never- i had a feeling, but i never entertained the thought that it actually might be true...' you whisper, cicling edge of the cup with your finger. 'you always took care of me.'
'i did.' oscar agrees, because it is true.
'and you will take care of me in the future even if i decide to just stay friends.'
it was not a question but he still answers: 'i will.'
your smile is an eighth wonder of this world. it can stop the rain and can make flowers bloom in oscar's heart. you lean in with a decision taken: 'then please, stand next to me, just like you said. not as a friend, but...' you reach out with an open palm towards him. 'as a lover.'
oscar has never made a decision faster in his life. your hand feels soft and nice and right in his. he doesn't have to say anything, everything can be understood from the way he looks at you. by your reddening cheeks he can tell that you also got everything. 'let's eat those sandwiches and i'll need fifteen minutes more for this presentation. then we'll go back to the dorms, okay?'
he simply nods, interlacing your fingers together. as you squeeze his fingers back with an reassuring smile, he thinks that he'll be okay with anything you ask. 'okay,' he still voices out, smiling. okay.
a/n: i'm unexplainably in love with this work. is it weird to say stuff like that about something you wrote? anyways, this is very self indulgent but i hope you liked it too. <3 - nini
writing list for f1 is here
you can always come to my inbox and request something of your own <3
Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):
“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.
“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.
“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.
“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”
“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”
“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.
gabi was (thirst) commenting on nico's insta posts as far back as 2017. he would have been 13.
anon you're godsent!!! my brain is buzzing with this. he was 13. 13!!!! he truly was dedicated to get this man and now he has him!!!
itching to write all of this but i think it will turn out so evil considering nico's family but like. the lore. he went for a married man, he had a plan all these years ago and i respect his hustle. holy shit!!
GEORGE/LANDO/ALEX!!!! I WILL DIE ON THE HILL OF 2019 ROOKIES!!!
the history. the communication. the obvious respect, fondness, love, friendship. they move me, they need to become SO popular so they could rival lestappen and carlando. i need everyone to be crazy with me. i need more fics, more fanart, more everything!!
