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sugugasm · 4 months ago

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BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

#lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus romance #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lnds smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus qin #sylus smut

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hemmingsleclerc · 1 year ago

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Welcome Back ┃Sebastian Vettel

Pairing: sebastianvettel x wife!

summary: sebastian and his wife give a surprise visit to the drivers

The sun was setting over the prestigious circuit, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling F1 paddock. The air was filled with the heady aroma of fuel and excitement, as fans and teams prepared for the next race. Unbeknownst to the drivers, a surprise awaited them in the form of a familiar face.

Sebastian Vettel, four-time Formula 1 world champion, was near the paddock entrance with his wife Y/N. After a brief hiatus, they returned to the racing world, not as competitors, but as spectators and supporters. As they walked through the meadow, whispers of excitement and surprise followed them.

Sebastian and Y/N decided to visit the drivers, many of whom had considered Vettel as a role model and mentor throughout their careers, and Y/N as a second mother, having always been there for them since their beginnings. Their first stop was the Scuderia Ferrari garage, where Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz were engrossed in pre-race conversations with their engineers.

The moment they entered, the atmosphere changed. Leclerc and Sainz turned to see the iconic duo standing there with warm smiles. The garage buzzed with excitement as the younger drivers embraced Sebastian like a long-lost friend and Y/N, with her gentle lover, radiated warmth, making the meadow feel like a homecoming.

"It's amazing to have you both here," Charles exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration. "We've missed having both around!"

Carlos nodded in agreement, "Yeah, it's like having our racing parents back. How's life outside the cockpit treating you?"

Sebastian chuckled, "It's different, but we're enjoying the change. And we couldn't resist coming back to witness the thrill of F1 and catch up with all of you."

The surprise visit continued as the couple toured the paddock. Each meeting was marked by genuine enthusiasm and candid conversations. Max Verstappen, who upon seeing them from afar, ran towards them and hugged them tightly, excited to tell them all of his achievements that he had managed to achieve thanks to their help and support. Lando Norris, who almost fainted from excitement when he saw them in front of him, grabbed them both by the arms and took them to the McLaren garage, eager to introduce them to his new partner, Oscar, and the other drivers enthusiastically shared stories of their trips in the mountains. races and asked the experienced couple for advice.

As Sebastian and Y/N approached Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes garage, the air was filled with anticipation. Hamilton, Y/N's old friend, rival and former teammate, greeted them both with a warm hug along with a big smile on his face.

"Seb, Y/N, it's been too long!" Hamilton exclaimed. "This paddock hasn't been the same without you. We need your wisdom and humor back in the game."

Sebastian grinned, "Well, we're here to bring some of that back, at least for today. But remember, you're doing just fine without us. Keep pushing, and the wins will come."

''It's good to see that I left the Mercedes seat in good hands, George has been fantastic in this new season!'' Y/N exclaimed with a touch of emotion and nostalgia when remembering the boy's first season.

The surprise visit of the Vettel's became the highlight of the racing weekend. The drivers, in the midst of their high-risk world, appreciated the moments with them and the peace of mind of knowing that even if they were no longer there every race weekend, they would always be with them. As the day of the race went on, the echoes of their visit persisted, inspiring the drivers to try harder, not only for victory, but also to make their grid parents proud, who watched them grow up, gave them advices, helped them get up when people started to turn their backs on them, who told them to never give up their dream, and who had given them a new meaning of ''family''.

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ellecdc · 9 months ago

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Hi! I’m back 😬. I’m still extremely new to requesting so feel no pressure to write this soon. I was thinking of quiet!reader, who gets nervous when she is around Regulus and instantly starts saying the most out of pocket things and being chatty to fill in the silence. Regulus finds this amusing and usually keeps a serious, quiet demeanor to hear the weird things that come out of her mouth. 😊

looolllll the second I got this request it made me think of that Philomena Cunk meme on TikTok where people were like 'me whenever the conversation lulls' - so I had to borrow that quote!!! (let me know if you find it). Thanks so much for requesting babes - hope you love it 🫶

Regulus Black x quiet!fem reader (who can't shut up around him)

The world was out to get you, that much you were certain of. You were certain of this fact because this was the third time this week that your table in the library had somehow attracted the elusive Regulus Arcturus Black.

Usually, this would not be an issue. In fact, one could argue this was a rather nonissue, seeing as you were sort of embarrassingly completely infatuated with the aggravatingly quiet boy in your year.

However, it appeared that the company of one Regulus Arcturus Black short-circuited some fundamental part of your brain which caused you to blurt out the most asinine comments known to all of wizardingkind – nay – humankind. The universe has never seen the likes of such horrible conversation.

It went a little like this:

Earlier in the week you had set up your arithmancy homework out in front of you at your favourite table in the library. It was your favourite table because it had a window view, but that window view was the least distracting window view in the whole library. It also was the perfect distance to a fireplace, meaning you could manage to stay warm in the stone castle during the cold Scottish winters.

Unfortunately, it seemed, the table didn’t give you a good vantage point to alert you when one Regulus Arcturus Black made an appearance.

“Mind if I sit here?” A quiet voice startled you out of your calculations, causing you to overturn a pot of ink in front of you.

“Fucking Merlin and Morgana! I- oh, erm, uh, no I uhm, fuck.” You sputtered as you split your attention between the boy standing across from you and the pool of ink quickly making its way towards your skirt.

With a non-descript flick of Regulus’ wand, the mess was gone – though the damage to your parchment was unsalvageable.

“Oh, uhm, thanks. Sorry I – erm, have a seat. Although, you might not be safe!” You tried to joke but your voice came out disturbingly high, and the (failed) ‘joke’ made you flush hot with shame.

“I’m usually way cooler than this.” You tried to argue, before you realized that someone way cooler definitely wouldn’t have just said that.

Regulus was either unbothered by your horrifying actions or chose to ignore them. He opened his textbooks and began taking notes like you weren’t even there, while you sat in the most awkward and uncomfortable silence of your entire life.

It wasn’t long before you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, standing abruptly – so abruptly, in fact, that you had to quickly save another pot of ink from spilling – and began hastily gathering your things. Regulus did look up at this, and his eyes on you seemed to cause another malfunction to your central nervous system.

“Well, I must be off. I have other homework to dump ink on.” You said, except you didn’t deliver the sentence as a joke and it sounded all too believable – paired with your actions today, and you were certain he believed that’s exactly what you were off to do.

“Toodaloo.” You called and ran from the library.

Toodaloo!?!?! Are you fucking serious!?!! TOODALOO. Oh gods.

You didn’t dare return to the library the following day.

The day after that, though? It was fair game.

You were once again sitting at your favourite table and had ensured you placed a sticking charm on the bottom of your ink pots to avoid any more unfortunate accidents, when the clearing of a throat interrupted your studies.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, motioning to the seat across from you.

He’s kidding, right? After what happened two days ago, he can’t possibly want to sit with you?

Nonsense, perhaps this is just his favourite table in the library too.

You were determined this time not to make a fool of yourself.

“Have you finished the rune translations for Professor Babbling, yet?” Regulus asked.

No, the world was definitely out to get you.

“I, erm, I’ve started it. I believe it references the magic practiced by the Egyptians during the Predynastic period. Quite interesting stuff, Ancient Egypt. Did you know that Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?”

You were talking a mile a minute. You knew this to be true due to the fact that your tongue was actually tripping over your words, but while your brain was shouting shut up shut up shut up shut up, your mouth just kept moving.

“Is that so?” Regulus asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he scrutinized you.

“I don’t know actually.” You admitted, realizing you may have just lied to Regulus Black about Ancient Egypt. “I, I suppose I meant that they put way more emphasis on death than life.” You cringed again. “I don’t know if that’s true either – it’s just, it’s... it's the pyramids!” You shouted desperately, earning you a shush from the librarian.

“The pyramids?” He asked incredulously, a smile playing on his lips.

He was making fun of you, surely.

“Yup. Pyramids.” You squeaked, turning your face back towards your textbook.

“And you got all of that from the runes translation?”

Your face burned in shame.

“Uhm, no. The runes said no such thing. I just…know things.”

“You know things?”

“Right like, uhm, oh apparently Shakespeare didn’t actually write any of the works attributed to his name. Did you know that? William Shakespeare’s parents were illiterate - which doesn’t necessarily mean much because, perhaps he became learned later in life, right? However, William Shakespeare’s own children were also illiterate. I mean, what famous playwright wouldn’t teach their children to read? It’s all bollocks.”

You had to catch your breath at the end of your tangent.

“That’s a bold claim.” Regulus said plainly.

Fucking hells, was it hot in here?

“Right, well, erm. I have to go.” You said as you gathered your things and rushed towards the door.

“Uhm, Y/N?” Regulus called.

“Yes?”

“Your wand?”

You looked back at the table and, sure enough, your wand sat forgotten in your place.

“Right, thanks. Uhm, best of luck on the rune’s translation. Let me know if you need help and erm, uhm, I - bye!”

You stayed out of the library for two days after that.

Which brought you to today. You decided to try to save yourself the humiliation and Regulus the hassle of having to sit with you by finding a different table. You would leave your favourite table to Regulus if it meant saving yourself the embarrassment of uttering absolute nonsense to your schoolgirl crush.

What you had forgotten, however, was how the world was absolutely 100% without a doubt out to get you.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, causing you to look up so quickly and, not being used to this table and unaware of the fact that you were sitting under a light sconce, you smacked your head rather painfully in the action.

“Son of a fucking dugbog.” You spat miserably as you rubbed at the sore spot already producing a lump on your head.

“Why?” You all but screeched.

Regulus tilted his head at you as one of his eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Yes, why.”

“Why what?”

“Oh for – why do you want to sit with me?!”

He looked close to smiling as he scrutinized your form. “Do you not want to sit with me?”

“Of course I want to sit with you!” You admitted embarrassingly - and loudly - earning you a shush from the librarian.

“So, I can sit here then?”

You groaned and let your head thump onto the table in front of you – at least now you’d have a matching lump on the front of your head too.

“At the risk of me making a total and utter fool of myself? Sure, be my guest.”

You swore you heard him chuckle under his breath as he pulled the chair out across from you. You didn’t dare lift your head, however. Perhaps if you couldn’t see his piercing silver gaze, or his adorable black curls, or his stupid smirk, then maybe you wouldn’t be forced to say something ridiculous.

“What? No fun facts for me today?” Regulus – the arse – asked from across from you.

You raised your head slightly, though left your shoulders at table level as you levelled him with a glare.

“You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you? What, you get off on me making a fool of myself?”

Regulus smirked, though something in his eyes turned a little soft as he spoke. “I don’t think you make a fool of yourself.”

You scoffed and let your head fall back to its previous spot with a thud. “You’re an arse and a liar, Regulus Black.”

“Okay, perhaps you’ve been a little foolish.” He conceded, causing you to groan into the woodgrain of the table. “But I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

Your head snapped up at that, and even Regulus grimaced as he watched you just barely miss the light sconce behind you.

“You’ve…enjoyed me making a fool of myself?” You asked incredulously.

Regulus moved his head back and forth in a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve enjoyed getting to listen to you. Why do you think I’ve been asking to sit with you all week?”

Apparently, your table wasn’t Regulus’ favourite table. Or at least, that wasn’t what made it his favourite – it was the fact that you had been sitting there that had made it so.

And ever since then, whatever table you were sitting at in the library – one would likely find Regulus Black there too.

#ask elle #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #regulus black imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black #regulus black blurb #regulus black fluff #marauders era #ellecdc fics

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, i read the “Bat-boys finding out your pregnant” and may i ask for more? It was sooo cute that i need more of it 😭💕

The Batboys fathers HCs

A/N: this request is long overdue that I’m sure the requester doesn’t even remember it, but I’ve arrived at last. I hope this is what they wanted. The Absolute Power run has restored my love for Nightwing and comics. ❣️

Dick Grayson is a fun dad. At first, Dick suffocated beneath the weight of fatherly duties. He wanted to be better than Bruce. Dick loved him, but he could admit that his boyhood wasn’t a salubrious environment for the young mind. No child should have to carry the weight of Bruce’s mission. Thus, Dick’s mission became ensuring yours and the baby’s lives were secure, safe, and joyous.

Pale beams of sunlight kissed your cheeks good morning. The aroma of maple syrup wafted throughout the house, tickling your nostrils as you carried yourself down the stair steps, footfall by footfall. There Dick stood at the stove, scooting the black spatula beneath a golden pancake and flipping it into the air, causing your baby to burst out into a fit of giggles before the pancake hit the skillet with a sizzle. He was proud of himself for making his baby laugh.

“Well, well, look at mama.” A grin crept across his lips as he spotted you creeping closer, supernovas bursting in his electric blue irises.” You were snoring in a pool of drool when I awoke, so I grabbed the baby and started breakfast.” Vibrant seas of pacifiers, rattles, and toy pianos adorned the house.

Dick attempted to rush the developmental process. Not out of callousness, but sheer excitement to have a child. He had already stocked the baby in dolls, trucks, pacifiers, fruit snacks, apple juice (watered down, of course). He even installed a nightlight that short circuited the house at first, but Bruce helped him fix it. Reading is good for the baby right? Dick is on it. He’s already ordered the best and most classic tales; Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Alice in Wonderland, Dr. Seuss, Little Red Riding Hood.

Dick Grayson has read multiple novels on fatherhood, motherhood, child development, postpartum depression. He hates surprises, and babies are the breeding ground of surprises. He will pack the go-bag full of onesies, pacifiers, diapers, wipes, toys because he doesn’t want you to be in public and not have the materials.

“Give me a few days to install the new changing table. You’ll love it.” Crimson blush adorned his tanned cheeks, a proud grin dawning on his lips, showcasing his pearlescent teeth.” It broke when I weight checked it, thank god. Damian, albeit reluctantly, is coming out here tomorrow to translate the instructions.”

Jason Todd is the protective, paranoid father because he’d placed a bullet in the worst humanity had to offer, witnessed otherworldly horrors done to the little guys, the folks who lack billions of dollars to hole up on secluded islands and cabins. He can’t eradicate all the scum, can’t caulk the fractures villains seem to keep slipping through—and that terrifies him.

Jason never imagined a life worth living to be possible. He’d thought himself a sentient zombie, an unlucky boy yanked from the eternal peace of a cold, soundless grave and forced to enact vengeance on behalf of the common folk who lack the means to undertake the mission themselves. He never considered Red Hood to be a hero; merely a restless phantom with nothing else to bide his time until the sweet release of the afterlife deigned to shatter his manacles to the mortal world. That was until he’d fallen over the sun, offering endless devotion to his goddess, and you’d rewarded his offering with a daughter, a lovely girl. He’d abduct the moon and wrap it in a silken bow if only you’d give him permission.

“Catch, papa,” your daughter had called out, retrieving the little football and sprinting toward him, tiny feet carrying her over the damp and verdant grass of y’all’s backyard. Jason never brought the both of you to parks—an excess of people to watch, different personalities and behaviors; a myriad of possibilities for tragedy. Too much room for error in a vast, leafy expanse.

“You’ve gotta bring it to me first,” Jason called back, outstretching his muscular arms, awaiting her arrival. He was paranoid and distrustful of the world, not a killjoy. Y’all’s daughter’s bedroom was littered with vivid nail polishes, fluffy scarves, glittering tiaras, and Monster High dolls. Your daughter had always adored Frankie Stein and Frankenstein because they reminded her of Jason and herself, the dolls and humans both sharing pale white streaks of hair. He hadn’t known whether to laugh or weep upon hearing those words from her lips, innocent and completely unaware of the accuracies spanning far past hair color.

“Jason, I love you, but we are not cooping ourselves up in the house this summer.” The words were firm and unyielding—but lacking any true bite.

“ I’ve given you grace. I let a lot slide because I understand your background. But we’re just not doing it this summer. Its too hot to not go to waterparks and enjoy ourselves because of possibilities.” A damn good point rested upon your tongue, and he knew it.

“Fine.” He relented with a jocosely petulant huff.” But we take a gun with us.”

Tim Drake is an ambitious father. It’s been said before, but I don’t believe he’s as active as the fandom would believe. Though, his absence isn’t born of malice or indifference, but ambition, a thirst for a legacy. He wants to be a man his significant other and child can be proud of, a father worth bragging about. There’s also a large chamber seated within his mind that knows not how to be a father, for his parents were cold, choosing to throw dollars at his gripes and needs rather than be present.

One of his greatest fears is disappointing the both of you, like he was disappointed by his own parents, so disappointed he couldn’t even despise them. Tragically, the mission to avoid history’s repetition had placed him before a mirror, his parents gazing back at him, a smug smirk curled on their lips because they know that he’ll be on their end of the glass within a few decades.

Can he be blamed? Tim wants the absolute best for his family. The best grades, the best schools, the best scores, the best scholarships. He’s not naïve enough like Dick to believe hard work and persevere can lift a nobody anywhere. There are no bootstraps to be pulled taut. It’s an illusion, a sauce wealthy people spoon over their meals to disguise the taste of nepotism and privilege. Manipulations the rich regurgitate to excuse themselves from having to acknowledge the unfair, biased system they’ve upheld.

The door to his limousine slammed closed, his child seated beside but, but farther than ever. What could be said? Jerking forward, the limousine rolled into drive, coasting beneath autumn streaked clouds, as though her father had gifted her the sky from a florist. Bruce hadn’t prepared Tim for the teenaged terror years. He couldn’t help but wonder if he himself had been this capricious and fickle as a teen, or if he were merely that bad of a father.

“Do. . . do you want a Milkshake? From that one place by the house, like we used to when you were young.” Tim couldn’t help but raise a hopeful raven shaded brow. He could smell the stench of sweat, an anxious perspiration, cleaving to your school uniform. It must’ve been a test day.” I’ll clear the rest of my schedule for us. . . if you want, of course.” He extended an olive branch, granting her the choice to engage and accept, or set the course for the rest her teenage years.

Damian Wayne does not want children. He doesn’t know how far his taint would bleed, and all he can envision are the ways he could disgrace the mind of a child. His village was rotten and evil. Bad fruits bear worse seeds.

Damian’s devotion was love, the purest kind he knew, a primal desire to protect and cherish that of which he adored. You forged suns in his heart, set the butterflies in his belly aflutter. Beneath a weeping of sheet of violet sky, the both of you had sworn to love the other until Earth imploded—and when it did, he would find you in another universe.

He doesn’t hate children. In fact, he would be a decent babysitter for Dick and Jason, and whenever Tim deigned to grace the BatCave with his presence. But, Damian is staunch in his childfree attitude, and you respect it. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure you wanted kids. No, you and Damian battled crime, traveled the world and experienced culture, learned histories outside of the filth pumped into his mind by the Al Ghuls. Bruce was saddened by Damian’s decision against children, but he ultimately respected it—and him.

Damian knew he was poisoned and rotten and always would be, no matter what emblem was sewn over his breast. He was content with the life the both of you had, and knowing Dick, many more children are to come, so he’d never get lonely.” Beloved, what do you make of Italy? Not the tourist parts where the history is washed, but the ripe lands.”

Bruce Wayne is a weary father. He knew the birth of his youngest child was redemption, his last chance at preserving the Wayne name since Damian had sworn off children. But Bruce was aged, hardened, jaded, weary. He had scars to last a lifetime, some worn on his heart, though majority were worn on his skin.

The Wayne brownstone was eerily silent since Alfred’s death. Bruce’s son sat around the oaken table, coloring a picture of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Alfred. Bruce’s heavy lids fell over exhausted, dim blue irises, his brain flitting back to the memories of Alfred, gathered at the stove and learning a recipe. I am. . . old, Master Bruce. My time on this earth is not infinite. You must learn more than the ways of fists, the words echoed in his mind. Reminding him that old age wasn’t even the murderer of Alfred Pennyworth.

He fetched an inhale before pulling himself off of the couch, and padding over toward his son at the dinner table.” What’s that? Oh, a pretty picture. A real artistic talent, like Damian.” Bruce was unsure of his fathering more often than not. He knew how it appeared to his son’s school counselors and the principal—old, washed up playboy Bruce Wayne saddled with another young son. That was far from the case, but the masses will believe anything when they’re given nothing.

Bruce fetched a pot and skillet from the creaking cabinets of the brownstone, far from the elegance and cleanliness of the manor. Alfred would’ve been mortified to see the mess, he almost chuckled, but withheld it. Lest his son raise a question, for the explanation would be too complicated and long-winded for his young mind.” So, what do you see for dinner tonight? What makes that belly growl like a lion? Mac and Cheese? Lasagna? Hamburger Helper?”

Bruce knew exactly what his son would choose. Asking was merely a courtesy. Bruce knew him, raised the boy from the minute he was weaned. He knew what his son would do before his son knew what he himself would do. The Batman wasn’t a slacker, wasn’t lazy.

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kissedsuns · 4 months ago

Text

sweetheart of the circuit, oscar piastri.

cw: mentions of smut, driver!reader, kissing, swearing.

on one particularly scorching afternoon in bahrain, the drivers are lined up and ready for the season-opening bahrain grand prix, there’s a surprise twist. your contract signing wasn't widely announced, and very few know about you joining aston martin alongside fernando alonso.

as the drivers wait by their cars, you're getting suited up, preparing to join the others for the 2024 season photoshoot.

oscar piastri, feeling the pressure of an exciting season for him and mclaren, is unusually tense. he’s hoping this year will be their breakthrough.

when the photoshoot begins, oscar's attention is drawn to a girl in fireproof overalls next to aston martin. he raises an eyebrow, wondering if you're a new staff member. but as you step in the camera's view and join the other drivers, the surprise is evident.

jaws drop, and eyes almost fly out of their sockets. george russell exclaims, "holy shit, mate,"

only max verstappen remains unfazed, offering a small smile and nod. you grin, making your way over to alonso, who greets you with a knowing smile. you notice carlos giving alonso a nudge, but you remain focused on the camera in front.

"can we please shift our attention towards the cameras, boys?" one photographer says, breaking the silence. the drivers quickly adjust, and once the photoshoot is over, they relax and start chatting.

playful whistles come your way as george russell, lando norris, carlos sainz, alex albon, and others gesture for you to join them.

"hi, boys!" you greet with a cheerful smile.

"god, you're a pretty sight," lando blurts out, only to be playfully smacked by russell.

taken aback, you giggle, making the boys’ gazes soften. "aww, thank you!" you coo, ignoring the flirty undertone of lando's words.

lando's cheeks turn pink, and he mutters, "god, her voice is hot."

"it's nice to meet you all," you say, extending your hand to shake theirs with a soft smile.

"i'm oscar," he introduces himself, shaking your hand delicately.

"oh! oscar piastri, it's so good to finally see you in the flesh," you exclaim excitedly. before you can chat more, the other drivers grab your hand in turn.

"hey, i'm next—" russell says, shaking your hand as lando follows. they introduce themselves eagerly, their voices overlapping.

"aw, you're all so sweet," you say, your voice as sweet as honey. "i wish i could stay and chat longer, but alonso and i have to head back to the team. see ya, boys!" you flash a toothy smile, your dimples showing as you wave goodbye and exit the track with alonso at your side.

"god, she's gorgeous," russell murmurs as he watches you leave.

"and that voice," lando adds.

"you both are so desperate it's almost embarrassing," alex laughs, watching their reactions.

"can you really blame us?" russell mutters, his eyes following you as lando continues to gaze after you, his attention focused on your departing figure.

as the drivers disperse, you and alonso head back to the aston martin garage. the day is bustling with pre-race activities. back in the garage, alonso gives you a quick rundown of what to expect during the race weekend.

"the first race is always the hardest," alonso says. "but remember, you're here for a reason. trust in your abilities and the team."

his words boost your confidence, and you thank him before heading to a meeting. the room is filled with engineers, strategists, and your team managers. alonso occasionally leans over to explain some finer points, easing your nerves. the meeting ends with a clear strategy in place, and you feel more confident about the race ahead.

as the evening wears on, you find yourself wandering the paddock, the sun setting and casting a warm glow over the bahrain international circuit. a gentle breeze rustles through your hair, and you take a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over you.

this is where you belong, and you're ready to make your mark in the world of f1.

meanwhile, in the paddock, the boys are still buzzing about your presence. george shakes his head with a grin. "i still can't believe we have a female driver on the grid. and she's with aston martin, no less!"

lando chuckles. "and she's pretty too. makes me wish we had her in mclaren."

oscar stays quiet, but a slight blush on his cheeks gives away his thoughts. carlos nudges him playfully. "hey, oscar, you alright? soundin' real quiet there, mate."

oscar tries to play it cool, shrugging. "i'm just, um, thinking about how quali is going to pan out."

"right," lando teases. "because you just get so red thinking about that, right, osc?"

you head back to the team garage, reviewing track layouts and discussing strategies with your engineer.

the nerves from earlier had settled into a quiet resolve. you adjusted your helmet, checked your gear one last time, and with a nod to your team, you headed towards your car.

the first practice session unfolded smoothly under the bahrain night sky. as the cars roared onto the track, you navigated the circuit with precision, gradually building up speed and familiarising yourself with the car.

the team radio crackled with feedback from your engineers, discussing minor tweaks to optimise your performance.

commentators noted the controlled approach from you, the new aston martin driver, highlighting your steady lap times and smooth handling.

"she's holding back a bit," remarked martin brundle, "but that's to be expected in the first practice session. there's definitely more to come from her."

spectators and fellow drivers alike watched closely, curious to see how you would fare against the competition. the commentary team didn't shy away from emphasising the significance of your presence, mentioning your historic debut and speculating on the impact you could have in qualifying and beyond.

"keep an eye on her," another commentator enthused. "she's got the determination. qualifying could be where she really shines, and i wouldn't want to be in the shoes of her rivals right now."

as the two practice sessions concluded, you return to the garage, the feedback from the team positive but focused on refining setups for qualifying.

after a quick debrief with the team, you exit the garage and make your way to the paddock. you pull out your phone and see a flurry of notifications flooding your feed. fan edits, posts, and fanpages highlight your performance and even comment on how you managed to avoid the dreaded helmet hair.

scrolling through the comments, you chuckle at some of the reactions. "wtf ???? how did she avoid the infamous helmet hair." one post reads, accompanied by a close-up photo of you with your helmet off, your hair surprisingly intact.

immersed in reading all the sweet, supportive comments on your feed, you hardly notice the figures in the background, watching intently as you smile at your phone while sitting on a nearby bench in the paddock.

"she's fucking fast," lando comments.

"yeah, absolutely," daniel agrees. "and in an aston martin? i shouldn’t say this, but it's not the quickest car out there, yet she's making it look like a redbull."

a sense of nervousness settles in some of the other drivers' stomachs as they observe you. george, carlos, and oscar, in particular, are struck by how composed you were during the sessions, causing them to feel a twinge of anxiety about your performance for the next day.

they quickly snap out of their daze when they see alonso emerge from the team hub, calling out your name.

he gives you a pat on the shoulder, complimenting your driving before hurrying off to where his car is parked.

you get up from the bench and head towards the paddock exit, deciding to follow suit.

as you reach your car, you're surprised to find oscar slowly making his way towards his own vehicle nearby.

he looks up, a faint smile forming as he spots you. "hey," he says warmly, his steps slowing as he approaches.

"hi, oscar," you reply, "nice car," you add, nodding towards his sleek machine. "must be fun to drive."

oscar chuckles softly. "thanks. it's not too bad," he admits, a hint of shyness in his voice. "but yours looks pretty cool too."

you beam at the compliment, genuinely pleased. "aw, thanks! i love how it handles," you say, stepping closer to your car and leaning against it casually. "i guess we both have good taste, hey?"

"yeah, i guess so," oscar agrees, his smile widening. he pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "you were really impressive out there today," he continues, his tone earnest. "the way you handled those corners—it was impressive."

"you weren’t too bad yourself," you say, looking down at your shoes as they scuff against the concrete.

oscar is taken aback. he never imagined you'd get shy, especially considering your bubbly and upbeat personality throughout the day.

"i should probably head off now," you say, breaking the moment reluctantly. "long day tomorrow."

"yeah, me too," oscar nods, his gaze lingering on you.

"thanks, oscar," you smile. "goodnight."

"goodnight." he echoes, watching as you turn and head inside your car. he stays rooted to the spot for a moment, a faint blush on his face, before he unlocks his car door and climbs in.

the next day rolls around fairly quickly. you manage to crawl out of your bed and get yourself mentally prepared for the very first qualifying session of the season.

as you make your way to the paddock, the atmosphere is charged with energy. the final practice session, while crucial for final adjustments, pales in comparison to the exhilaration and nerves that come with qualifying.

reporters are quick to swarm around you, eager to capture your thoughts on how prepared you feel for your first qualifying session of the season. cameras flash and microphones thrust towards you, but despite the heightened pressure, you maintain a composed attitude.

"over here!" you hear a voice squeak in your direction. "how do you feel about aston martin competing with the top teams? they haven't had to worry about your team much before, but with your speed in the previous practice sessions, should they be concerned now?"

"it's really exciting for us at aston martin. the top teams have always set the bar high, but we're focused on our own performance and doing our best. we want to keep pushing and see where that takes us." you respond, meeting the reporter's gaze with a grin.

fans call out to you for autographs and selfies. you take a few moments to interact with them, signing hats and taking pictures. with your kind and approachable attitude, it was easy enough to win over even more supporters.

as the crowd starts to thin out, you begin making your way toward the garage. the atmosphere is still buzzing with excitement, but you're in your own world, focusing on the task ahead.

as you round a corner, you nearly bump into lando, carlos, and george, who are standing together, chatting away.

"hey, look who it is," lando says with a playful grin. "the rising star of aston martin."

"yeah, i think we might have to start worrying about you," george adds, giving you a friendly wink.

"naww, c'mon now. i'm just excited to get out there." you reply cheerfully, your voice carrying that genuine sweetness that seems to disarm them.

"see ya, pretty thing," lando smirks, tugging george along with carlos trailing behind, who gives you a small nod.

with that, you flash them a polite smile and continue on your way, completely unaware of the flirtatious undertone of their comments.

you enter the garage, where the atmosphere is a hive of activity with engineers and mechanics bustling around. you see fernando alonso across the garage, and he waves you over.

"hey there," fernando greets you with a gentle smile. "how are you feeling?"

"a bit nervous, but mostly excited," you admit, trying to focus on the task ahead.

"good. that's normal. just remember what you're here to do." he advises, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

his words boost your confidence, and you thank him before heading over to your station.

you begin gearing up, slipping into your fireproof race suit with the aston martin logo embroidered on it. you pull on your balaclava, ensuring it's secure, and then reach for your helmet.

your engineer approaches, holding a tablet with the final adjustments and strategy for the session.

"okay, we’ve made some tweaks based on the data from the last practice. just a few minor adjustments to optimise your performance," he explains, showing you the details.

"got it," you nod, absorbing the information. you appreciate the team's effort and feel ready to give it your all.

with everything in place, you make your way to the car. the sleek machine glistens under the garage lights, ready to be unleashed on the track.

you slide into the cockpit, feeling the familiar, snug fit of the seat.

your heart pounds with anticipation as the team secures you in place, and you perform one final check on the car's systems.

"radio check," your engineer’s voice crackles through the headset.

"loud and clear," you respond.

"alright, let's do this. remember, smooth and steady. we're here to gather some data and refine our strategy. i don't want to see any risky moves."

you hum in agreement, gripping the steering wheel. the car rolls forward, and you exit the garage, ready to take on the track.

the world narrows down to the tarmac ahead, your focus razor-sharp as you accelerate down the pit lane.

you manage to get third in the placings, and as you drive back to the garage, your team is filling your ears with positive feedback. alonso gives you a pat on the back, and the team members cheer and clap, celebrating your impressive result.

"that was amazing," one of the engineers says. "you're going to crush it in qualifying."

"keep this momentum going," alonso adds. "you're showing everyone why you belong here."

you felt giddy with the way in which everyone was praising you, and hope that it would feel even more special if qualifying went well too.

as you lift your helmet and rip off your balaclava, you notice oscar piastri pass by the garage entrance. he spots you and gives a small wave.

you usually greet everyone with a bright, toothy smile, but with oscar, you can't help but feel a little different. your smile is softer, and you quickly look away, focusing on removing your gear.

oscar notices your change in demeanour and his little smile widens slightly before he continues on his way.

alonso catches your little interaction with oscar. his eyes narrow slightly, and he tries to bite back a smirk that's tugging on his lips.

as the sun dipped lower over the bahrain circuit, the atmosphere among the male drivers waiting for qualifying was charged with anticipation. a number of them had gathered in a cluster near the mclaren hospitality area, sipping on energy drinks.

"did you see her lap times in practice?" lando exclaims, breaking into the conversation as he leans against a nearby barrier. "she's quick. like, scary quick."

"yeah, aston martin's got themselves a serious contender," carlos chimed in, nodding thoughtfully.

max, usually more reserved in such gatherings, offers a slight smile. "impressive for a rookie," he remarks, his gaze drifting momentarily towards the aston martin garage with the others following his eyes.

daniel, always ready with a joke, pipes up, "so, which one of us is going to crash into her first?"

george chuckled, shaking his head. "i'm just hoping she doesn't make us all look bad out there."

oscar, quieter than the rest, listened intently before adding, "she seemed pretty focused earlier. doesn't look like the pressure's getting to her."

alex, who had been observing the conversation with a smirk, spoke up. "you guys sound like her fan club or something."

"nah, that's just lando and george." charles teases as the men laugh amongst themselves. except for lando and george who simply roll their eyes.

the aston martin team hub door swung open, and you step out, dressed in your team gear. the drivers turn their attention as you make your way through the bustling crowd.

lando and george exchange a look and simultaneously let out a whistle, prompting the others to join in by waving you over. aside from oscar and max, who both remained quiet, not wanting to cause a scene.

"hey! there she is," lando calls out with a grin, his voice carrying across the paddock.

you glance over, noticing their playful gestures, and offer them a friendly wave before continuing towards your team, a faint blush colouring your cheeks.

"hi, boys," you greet, "see you on track!"

as you walk past them, you playfully blow a kiss their way, your lips forming a perfect pout. the effect is instantaneous.

"whoa," daniel breathes, his eyes wide with admiration. "did she just?"

"yep," george nods, his cheeks flushing a light pink. "she totally did."

"man, she's something else," carlos says, his voice a mix of awe and excitement.

oscar, standing a bit to the side, can't help but smile shyly.

"alright, boys," lando claps his hands, trying to break them out of their trance, although he was just as flushed. "let's focus. we’ve got qualifying to get ready for."

the group slowly disperses as they head towards their respective garages.

you head towards the aston martin garage, your mind focused on the upcoming qualifying session. the team hub debriefing had been quick but thorough, and now it was time to put the plan into action.

you begin gearing up as you reach for your helmet, running your fingers over the smooth surface before placing it on your head. the visor snaps shut with a satisfying click, sealing you into your own world.

your engineer makes his way towards you, holding the tablet you've grown so familiar with.

"we've reviewed the data from the third practice session and noticed you're losing time in the high-speed corners. try to be a bit more aggressive on the throttle exiting the turns. it might feel risky, but the car can handle it. trust the grip." he explains, showing you the details on the tablet.

you lean in, studying the screen. "that makes sense. i noticed it as well, 'm just hesitating a little, i think."

one of the mechanics gives you a thumbs up. "you’ve got this. we believe in you."

"thanks, guys," you reply, feeling a surge of confidence.

settling into the cockpit of your car, you feel the warm embrace of the seat. the seatbelts are pulled over your body to ensure your security.

"radio check," your race engineer says.

"loud and clear," you respond.

"alright, everything looks good from our end," he confirms.

you take a deep breath when the garage crew gives you the signal, prompting you to start the engine. the sound reverberates through the garage as you guide it out onto the pit lane, joining the queue of cars waiting to start qualifying.

ahead, the traffic begins to move. your race engineer gives you one final instruction.

"let's get a solid lap in early," he advises. "make us proud."

as you approach the pit exit, adrenaline pulses through your veins. with a surge of acceleration, you unleash the full power of the aston martin down the straight, diving into the first corner with precision and determination.

the qualifying session is underway, and every second counts.

"david, that was a close one! our rookie driver narrowly avoided a collision with leclerc in that hairpin," martin brundle's voice crackles excitedly through the broadcast.

"you're right, martin! that was, um, a risky move from both drivers," ted kravitz chimes in, his tone laced with both concern and admiration.

meanwhile, your engineer's voice cut through the intensity. "good job avoiding that. watch out for the next corner."

"copy," you reply swiftly, your adrenaline pumping as you focused on maintaining control and speed.

back in the commentary box, david kroft adds, "and did you catch that radio message, martin? 'nearly kissed leclerc's ass back there!' that's some raw emotion coming through."

he pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "she's usually so composed. this weekend, though, she's shown incredible positivity, handling the pressure remarkably well."

"she's also managed to charm the entire grid," martin adds with a twinge of amusement to his voice. "drivers seem to be following her around the paddock like moths to a flame. quite a feat for a rookie, wouldn't you say?"

ted nodded in agreement, "indeed, martin. her presence is definitely shaking things up."

the qualifying session eventually reaches its climax. as the clock ticks down, you push your aston martin to its limits, aiming for that pole position.

your laps are almost flawless, pushing the boundaries while maintaining control.

in the commentary box, david kroft's voice rises with excitement, "and look at that! she's setting blistering lap times. the rookie is really on a charge here."

ted kravits chimes in, "absolutely, david. she's flying through sector two!"

on the pit wall, your engineer's voice crackles over the radio, "stay focused. you're setting the pace. keep it up."

"and she crosses the line!" martin brundle exclaims. "that was a stunning lap from her. can she secure pole position? let's see the timing screens."

the atmosphere is electric as the timing screens update. moments pass, tension mounting, until finally, the results flash up on the screen.

"and there it is!" david kroft announces. "pole position for the beloved rookie and aston martin! what a sensational performance."

ted kravits adds, "incredible scenes here in bahrain. she has truly shown her class today. this sets her up perfectly for tomorrow's race."

the car glides to a stop precisely in front of the '1st place' board, followed by leclerc's ferrari in second and verstappen's redbull in third.

as you leap out of the seat, both hands raised high in victory, the crowd erupts into cheers.

you swiftly remove your helmet, revealing a triumphant smile beneath the layers of gear.

amidst the cameras clicking and voices clamouring for attention, you make your way over to the team. you exchange quick embraces and high-fives with your mechanics and engineers, each member of the team soaking up that pole position victory.

with a nod of gratitude to your team, you make your way towards the media pen.

"wow! what a qualifying session!" one of the sky sports reporters announces excitedly as you approach them, microphone pointed at you. "what a sensational performance, it must feel incredible, no?"

you nod, still catching your breath. "thank you, yeah. it feels incredible to be starting from the front."

"how are you feeling about your chances for tomorrow's race?"

taking a moment to compose yourself, you reply, "i'm feeling confident. the team has done a brilliant job, and the car felt fantastic out there. i can't wait for tomorrow!"

the cameras flash around you, capturing your infectious smile. it's a moment you'll cherish forever, marking a milestone in your formula 1 journey.

as you speak, lando, george and bottas, among others, spot you in the media pen. they give you encouraging pats on the shoulder and nods of approval as they pass by in between their own interviews.

the sky sports reporter continues, "aston martin has had its best qualifying result in a while. how does this performance reflect on the team's progress?"

"we've been pushing hard to improve, and today's result shows that we're moving in the right direction." you explain, wiping away a bead of sweat from your forehead. "this just proves that we're, um, ready to put up a fight with the other top teams, and uh, yeah. just so proud to be part of such a wonderful team."

the reporter thanks you for your time before ushering you to head off, not wanting to stall you any longer.

you practically float towards the team hub, each step light and filled with the weightless joy of your achievement.

inside, the familiar atmosphere of the aston martin team surrounds you, the soft hum of activity punctuated by congratulatory smiles and nods from team personnel who notice you enter.

you change swiftly, shedding the race gear for much more comfortable clothes, the shift from racer to relaxed brings you a sigh of relief.

exiting the team hub, you exchange quick goodnights with some of the crew. the paddock is winding down for the night, a peaceful atmosphere settling in with the occasional noise of people packing up.

as you approach the paddock exit, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. you spin around to find oscar piastri standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. his presence always seems to catch you off guard in these moments.

"congrats on pole position. you really nailed it out there." he says warmly, his australian accent ever so obvious.

you feel your cheeks heat up at his sincere words, a shy smile forming. "thank you, oscar. that means a lot."

"you're just full of surprises, huh?" he continues, his tone light and teasing.

you almost find yourself choking on your own words after hearing that, feeling unexpectedly flustered.

"um, something like that," you manage to reply, though your voice betrays a hint of embarrassment.

oscar's smile widens, revealing his bunny teeth. his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

"c'mon, i'll walk you to your car." he insists.

you hesitate for a moment, caught off guard by his offer, but agree nonetheless.

as you walk together, the distance between you felt both too close yet not close enough. you stole your fair share of glances at him, noticing the way his hair was so fluffed up, perhaps from him not tending to it after removing his helmet from earlier.

"so," he began casually, breaking the silence, "how're you feelin' about it all?"

you bite your lip, trying to steady your voice. "oh, y'know, it feels overwhelming, but at the same time, i'm over the moon!"

oscar chuckles softly, the sound making your heart flutter. "you're handling it all so well, though."

"did you get nervous during your rookie season?" you ask in a more serious tone.

he nods. "oh, absolutely. anyone who says they didn't is lying."

you laugh, and the sound of your voice is so angelic that oscar can’t help but join in.

"i guess it gets easier over time," you say, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment.

"i'll get back to you on that when i get my first win." he teases.

"it'll come sooner than you think," you reply with a playful grin, nudging him lightly.

the adrenaline from qualifying still lingers, but now there's a different kind of electricity between you two.

oscar meets your gaze with a faint smile, his usually reserved demeanour softened by the day's events.

"on a serious note, i'm so proud of you." he muses, his voice holding a hint of awe. "i know you'll go far."

he looks at you with a mix of admiration and something deeper, a connection that neither of you dares to fully acknowledge yet.

"i could say the same for you." your voice softens, feeling surprisingly shy despite your usual bubbly nature.

your fingers play with a stray strand of hair nervously, a habit that betrays your composure around him. oscar notices, and a gentle smile tugs at his lips.

as you approach your car, the conversation slows. you both stand there, reluctant to say goodbye.

oscar shifts his weight slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "i'll see you tomorrow,"

"yeah, see you tomorrow," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. there's a brief pause, a moment where it feels like something more might be said, but then oscar gives you a small, heartfelt smile before turning to leave.

once in your hotel room, you change into your pyjamas and crawl into bed. but no matter how hard you try, you can't sleep.

you toss and turn, unable to get oscar out of your head. his little smile where his gums barely just peek through, the way he praised you earlier—all of it keeps you awake.

"oh, for fucks sake!" you groan, practically wrestling with the covers as you switch positions for the ninth time in ten minutes.

your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, all centred around piastri. every time you close your eyes, you see his face, hear his voice, and feel that stupid flutter in your chest again.

you punch your pillow in frustration and flop back down, head turned to face the window with hopes that the city lights are enough to lull you to sleep.

meanwhile, across the corridor, oscar is suffering with a similar problem. he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts of you taking up far too much room in his head for his liking.

he sighs, rolling onto his side, but the images don't fade. it's maddening, this constant replay of every moment he spent with you today.

oscar sits up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. he knows he won't be able to sleep like this.

he throws off the covers in frustration. fuck it.

oscar slips on a shirt and rushes out into the hallway. his footsteps quickening as he heads towards your room. he doesn't think over his actions, he just knows he needs to see you.

the night feels unusually long, with each passing minute driving you more insane.

you sit upright and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the carpet feels cool under your bare feet as you stand up, your heart beating a little faster with each step towards the closet.

your fingers fumble slightly as you slip on your shoes, the urgency to see oscar overriding any feeling of tiredness.

you take a deep breath, your hand lingering on the door handle. the hallway outside seems quieter than usual, as if holding its breath in anticipation of your next move. you open the door and step into the hallway, leaving all rationality in the hotel room, never to be considered again.

and then, at that exact moment, your paths meet. you round a corner just as oscar approaches from the opposite direction.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still.

"i just wanted to—" oscar begins, his voice faltering as you jog up to him, closing the gap between you in quick strides. you reach up, gently cupping his face in your hands, your touch silencing his attempts to explain.

"don't talk," you whisper, your voice barely audible. without further hesitation, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a bold and hungry kiss.

his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer with a gentle urgency. the world around you blurs as you melt into him. your own hands find their way to his head, fingers threading through his hair as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips against yours.

the kiss feels like it lasts for ages, leaving you both breathless and panting as you finally pull away.

"i can't stop thinking about you," oscar mumbles, his voice coated with sleep that he was never able to get. "even when i try."

you're completely overwhelmed by the flood of feelings that surge within you. finally, after a long moment of silence, you manage to splutter out a response.

"you drive me crazy, piastri." you confess, your words carrying the weight of everything you've held back until now.

he cups your face gently in his hands. "kiss me again," he begs, "and don't stop this time."

without another word, you lean in once again, closing the distance between you. oscar's hands, which were rested on your waist moments ago, now tap against your thigh, signalling for you to get ready to jump.

with ease, he hoists you up, his arms strong and steady as he holds you tightly. you wrap your arms around his neck, trusting him completely as he begins to carry you down the hallway, lips still attached.

oscar navigates the hotel corridors with determination, his pace steady despite the weight in his arms. his only concern is you, and the overwhelming need to be close to you.

sure, it's a bit disorienting not being able to see where you're going, but in this moment, neither of you could care less about anything aside from each other.

fortunately, you make it to his hotel room without incident, the door closing softly behind you as oscar gently sets you down.

you both tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. oscar's hands roam your back, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss.

eventually, the need for oxygen becomes too great, and you both pull apart, gasping for air yet unwilling to let go completely. your chests rise and fall in unison, breaths mingling as you try to steady yourselves.

"you taste so sweet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your lips. "can't get enough of you."

the two of you lie there for a moment, hands still exploring each other's bodies in gentle, loving caresses. oscar's fingers trace the outline of your jaw before bringing his thumb up to brush against your cheek.

wrapped in each other's arms, you both drift off to sleep, the gentle rhythm of your breaths synchronising.

when you wake up the next morning, the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains. you blink sleepily, feeling the comforting weight of oscar's arm draped over you. you take a moment to savour the feeling of being so close to him.

you turn to face him, finding him already awake with his eyes fixed on you. a soft smile graces his lips when he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face.

you take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "oscar, what are we?"

he raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "you tell me."

you dip your head down, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. oscar takes notice and chuckles softly, shaking his head. "don't get all shy on me now," he teases.

with a gentle touch, he hooks his finger under your chin and lifts your head slightly, guiding your eyes to meet his. "we can be whatever you want us to be," he whispers.

you search his eyes, seeing nothing but honesty and affection reflected back at you. "i want us to be together," you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "i want you, oscar."

"and you have me, baby." he hums, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

the room falls under a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks louder than words ever could. oscar's nails lightly graze your arm, a soothing touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

his shirt from the night before is nowhere to be seen and you let your eyes wander over his exposed chest and all the freckles that adorned it.

oscar breaks the silence, smirking to himself. "but, are y'sure you don't want carlos instead? or george? oh hey, how about the man himself, lando norris?"

"aww, you're hilarious." you roll your eyes, biting back a smile.

after a few minutes of lying in bed, enjoying the warmth of oscar's arms draped over your body, you reluctantly pull away.

oscar stirs slightly but remains in a restful state, his eyes half-lidded. you're careful not to disturb him as you rise from his bed. it takes every ounce of strength within you to not pounce on him and litter his adorable face with kisses or squish his cheeks.

however, you have to remind yourself that a race is still on the line. your first official race.

his tired eyes follow your movements with a faint, sleepy smile. with one final look, you turn the handle and step out into the hallway, making sure the door closes quietly behind you.

the corridor is calm, with only the faint sounds of early morning activity in the distance. you move swiftly but quietly, eager to return to your own room and prepare for the busy day ahead.

once you're dressed, you move to the bathroom to tidy up your hair. it's slightly messy from last night, and you grab a brush to smooth out the tangles, hoping it gives you a more polished look.

as you brush through your hair, you shift a few strands to the side to get a better angle.

that's when you notice something alarming—a large, prominent hickey on your neck. the mark is definitely visible, with the purple shade that stands out against your skin.

you try to stay calm as you think of solutions. a high-necked top or some creative use of makeup might help. making your way out of the ensuite, you frantically search for anything that can help you conceal it or at least make it less obvious.

given the scorching heat in bahrain, you decide against a high-necked top. instead, you opt for a tank top with a floral print and a comfortable pair of jeans.

with your outfit chosen, you turn your attention to the hickey on your neck. you stare at it in the mirror, feeling a pang of worry.

but it also brings you back memories from last night, when oscar had sucked a little too hard on your skin. you can't say you hated it, but you can't really say you love the idea of walking around the paddock with a purple splotch on your skin either.

as you work on concealing the hickey, you keep glancing at the clock, knowing you need to be on your way soon. the concealer helps somewhat, but you're aware it may not completely hide the mark.

just as you approach the elevators, you're surprised to see oscar standing there. he's leaning against the wall, seemingly relaxed and waiting for the elevator to arrive.

when he notices you, a teasing smile spreads across his face. "stalkin' me now, are you?"

you offer a small smile in return, trying your hardest to suppress the awkward feeling that’s rising within.

"everything alright?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

you nod, trying to keep your composure. "yeah, of course."

the elevator arrives with a soft ding, and the doors open. you step inside with oscar following close behind.

"okay, actually," your worried voice cuts through the light conversation as you turn to oscar, his head snapping in your direction with immediate concern. "we may have a little problem."

his eyebrows knit together, a look of genuine curiousity replacing his earlier teasing. "yeah? what's up?" he asks, his tone turning serious. he places a hand gently on your hips, thumb rubbing up and down your sides as he senses the tension in your voice.

you exhale, trying to steady your nerves as you gesture toward the exposed area of your neck. the makeup had already started to melt away, revealing the mark that you'd hoped to keep hidden.

oscar's brown eyes widen in surprise, and he has to stifle a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth to control himself. his shoulders shake slightly as he tries to suppress a giggle, the corners of his lips twitching despite his best efforts.

you playfully slap his arm "oscar! this is not funny," you say, though a smile tugs at your lips, unable to completely resist his laughter.

oscar looks at you with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "i'm sorry," he manages between chuckles, "but it's kind of cute." he takes a step closer, his expression softening. "you'll be fine, trust me."

as the two of you make your way outside, oscar leads you to his car, his hand gently clasped around yours.

the drive to the paddock is filled with a comforting silence. the hum of the engine and occasional whoosh of passing traffic creates a soothing backdrop.

oscar lets his hand rest gently on your thigh, gripping it firmly every now and then when he has to make a turn.

the moment you’re in view, the commotion around you intensifies. cameras start flashing furiously once oscar parks the car.

as you walk, you can feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on you and in the midst of this frenzy, you spot a group of familiar faces standing together with jaws on the floor.

lando, george and carlos are watching from a short distance, their eyes wide as they take in the sight before them.

alex strolls past the group, laughing his ass off as he takes in their baffled expressions. "got a backup, lando? maybe another portuguese model?"

lando's eyes widen in surprise, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. he turns to george and carlos, who are equally as dumbfounded, and raises an eyebrow as if to say, 'are you hearing this shit?'

george chuckles and shakes his head, while carlos tries to stifle a laugh. lando, still processing what his eyes are seeing, eventually breaks into a grin, shaking his head in disbelief at the audacity of alex's comment.

"seriously, mate?" lando calls after alex with an unamused expression. alex just grins wider, his laughter still echoing as he continues to walk away.

oscar gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the paddock entrance. his fingers linger on your hand for a moment before he releases it, giving you a smile. "make me proud, okay?"

"i'll see you soon," you reply, before turning to head toward the aston martin team hub.

as you make your way inside, a cheer erupts from the team members clustered around the room.

"there's our pole sitter!" someone shouts, and the rest of the team quickly join in.

the encouraging words and praise boost your confidence as you head towards the drivers' room. however, amidst the celebration, one of the team members notice something unusual.

"hey, what's that on your neck?" they ask, pointing out the faint mark that's barely covered by the concealer.

you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and you try to brush it off with a nervous laugh. "oh, that's nothing," you say quickly, trying to downplay it as you make a beeline for the drivers' room.

the other team members glance at each other with curious shrugs, unsure about the mark but too engrossed in the day's preparations to pursue it further.

you quickly change into your race suit, the familiar material feeling both comforting and empowering. the race suit helps to hide the mark, but you can’t help feeling a bit self-conscious.

just as you're finishing up and adjusting the suit, alonso knocks on the door. as you welcome him in, you subtly tug at the collar of your race suit, pulling it a little bit higher over the hickey.

"lookin' sharp," alonso says, giving you a nod of approval. "you ready to kick some ass?"

"ready as i'll ever be."

alonso approaches, his eyes scanning your outfit and then meeting your gaze. "if you need anything, you know where to find me."

you nod, feeling reassured by his support. "thanks, fernando."

"oh, and one more thing," alonso says, halting you as you're about to follow him out. "don't go easy on him."

your brows furrow in confusion. "easy on who?"

alonso smirks, "you know who i mean." and with that, he steps out of the room.

you stand there for a moment, processing fernando's words. it suddenly clicks. of course, he was talking about oscar piastri.

deciding to ignore it, you exit the team hub and recieve some more pats on the bats on your way out.

the walk to the garage is filled with the sounds of engines revving and team members bustling about.

your team is already hard at work, making final adjustments to your car. you weave through the organised chaos with mechanics giving you a quick thumbs-up as you pass by.

you join your race engineer, immediately diving into discussions about strategies and how we can make this race an ultimate success.

the tension builds as the minutes tick by with the weight of the upcoming race settling on your shoulders.

"the weather looks stable," your race engineer says, eyes scanning a tablet filled with data. "we're starting on mediums to play it safe."

you nod, absorbing the information. "what about tire degradation?"

"we're seeing higher wear on the left rear," he replies. "we'll monitor it closely, but be mindful of it, especially through sector 2."

he continues. "and keep an eye on piastri. he's been quick in the last few sessions, so he might try something early on."

a confident smile tugs at your lips. "got it."

he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "we believe in you. let's bring this home."

you slip on your balaclava, followed by your helmet. next, you pull on your gloves, flexing your fingers to ensure a perfect fit. each piece of gear feels like a second skin.

the grid is bustling with activity, teams making final adjustments and media capturing every moment. you take your place alongside the other drivers, the cars lined up neatly on the grid behind you.

as the national anthem plays, you stand tall. this is what you've worked for, what you've dreamed of.

with everything in place and the anthem finishing, you make your way over to the car, sliding into the seat that's been perfectly mould to your body.

yeah, you were almost certain that this thing will see the chequered flag first.

you grip the steering wheel, feeling the power of the car beneath you. the controls are familiar, and you run through a quick mental checklist with yourself.

you glance up, catching a glimpse of your team. they believe in you, and you believe in this car. with a deep breath, you close your eyes for a brief second, centering yourself.

when you open them again, you’re ready.

the formation lap begins and the cars start to move off the grid, each driver accelerating smoothly. you lead the pack, your car humming with power as you guide it through the initial lap.

the static buzz of the radio fades as your engineer's voice comes through clear and steady.

"radio check." he asks.

"yep, radio check." you reply,

you navigate the track, taking note of the conditions and the feel of the car. as you complete the formation lap, you position your car on the starting grid.

the lights go out, and your car leaps off the grid, pulling ahead with precision. you quickly establish your position at the front, your car gliding smoothly over the track.

but then, a sudden commotion erupts behind you. you catch a glimpse of charles and max clashing on the track. their cars veer off course, skidding into the barriers. they manage to regain control and rejoin the race, but not without losing several positions.

the incident causes a shuffle in the ranks. oscar, lando and lewis are quick to capitalise on the opportunity, moving up in the standings. piastri, in particular, closes the gap between you and himself, gaining drs as he approaches.

with a burst of speed, piastri overtakes you, sliding into the lead. frustration bubbles up inside you. you curse into the radio, "fuck!"

"it's fine," comes the calm response from your race engineer. "stay focused, and let's fight for it."

as the race continues, the cameras capture the dynamic battle on the track. in the commentary booth, david croft and ted kravitz provide their take on the unfolding drama.

david croft's voice fills the airwaves, "what a dramatic few laps it has been! we saw that collision between charles leclerc and max verstappen. both drivers managed to get back in the race, but they've dropped several positions as a result. and now, the change in the leaderboard is significant."

ted kravitz chimes in, "absolutely, david. it's been a game-changer. and now, oscar piastri has made a fantastic move, overtaking our leader. piastri has seized the opportunity, and it's been a fierce battle up front. our pole sitter is currently locked in an intense fight with piastri for that top spot."

david continues, "it's incredible to watch, especially given the circumstances. but it's not just the on-track action that's got everyone talking. there was, uh, quite a sighting in the paddock today, wasn't there, ted?"

ted nods, "oh, definitely, david. earlier today, we saw our pole sitter and oscar piastri entering the paddock together, hand in hand. it's, um, clear that there's more than just racing going on here."

as you approach a sharp turn, you make a decisive move. you dive to the inside line, threading the needle between oscar and the track's edge. you manage to slip past him, momentarily taking the lead.

the race engineer's voice crackles through your radio, offering words of encouragement and strategy adjustments, but you barely register it, focused entirely on the battle unfolding before you.

glancing in your mirrors, you can see oscar's car in close pursuit. he remains close, shadowing your every move as he looks for an opportunity to retake the position.

the final lap approaches, and you and oscar are locked in a relentless duel, each trying to outmaneuver the other.

as you round a particularly tight corner, oscar makes his move. with a daring overtake, he slips past you on the inside line, his car briefly nudging ahead. before you can fully react, he's already in the lead.

david croft's voice crackles through the broadcast, filled with excitement. "and it's piastri! oscar piastri has taken the lead on the final lap! what a move! what a race!"

ted pipes up, equally as thrilled. "what a battle we've witnessed today! it's been a masterclass in racing, and oscar piastri has just pulled off a sensational move. this is what formula one is all about!"

the final lap unfolds like a dramatic climax, with oscar holding his position and maintaining his lead. you're right on his tail, pushing hard, trying to find any opportunity to reclaim the position. but as the cars cross the finish line, it's oscar who comes out on top, clinching the victory in a spectacular finish.

oscar's excitement bursts forth over the radio. "holy shit, let’s go boys! fucking hell."

you pull your car into the designated area, where your team greets you with a mix of congratulations and supportive claps on the back.

while the taste of second place feels bittersweet, the praise from your team help lift your spirits. you take a moment to soak in the accomplishment, knowing that you've made a strong debut and set a solid foundation for the rest of the season.

amid the excitement, you glance over to where oscar stands, his own team gathered around him in celebration. as you approach, your focus narrows to him.

with a determined stride, you reach oscar and cup his cheeks with your hands. his eyes meet yours, and without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips against his in a deep kiss.

oscar's initial reaction is one of surprise. his face turns a shade of red that stands out even amidst the chaotic energy of the post-race environment. the sight of him blushing brightly is amusing, and it quickly becomes one of the highlights of the day for the spectators.

along with his first win, of course.

oscar's expression softens as he eases into the kiss. his hands move from resting at his sides to firmly gripping your waist, pulling you even closer to him. his fingers then splay across your back, holding you securely as if to make the moment last a little longer.

the background noise fades to a mere hum as the intensity of the kiss takes over. the cameras capture every detail—the way his eyes flutter shut, the way he holds you and the team whistling from behind the barrier.

as the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away slightly, your breaths mingling in the space between you. oscar's face is still flushed, but his smile is wide, giving you a perfect visual of his bunny teeth.

the cameras pan out to capture the broader scene—the celebrations, the crowd and the special moment unfolding in front of everyone.

the media is already setting up for the post-race interviews. the presenter approaches oscar, holding a microphone and a giddy smile.

"oscar! how does it feel to take the win today?" the presenter asks, clearly thrilled.

oscar replies, still catching his breath from the intense race, as well as that hot kiss from earlier. "yeah, it feels surreal. the team did a fantastic job, and it was a tough battle out there. i'm just so happy to be standing here with the win."

the presenter nods enthusiastically. "and what about that last-minute move? you really pulled ahead at the perfect time."

oscar chuckles, looking slightly bashful. "yeah, it was tight. i knew i had to make the most of it and, uh, just went for it. glad it worked out."

as oscar finishes his interview, the presenter turns to you, giving a nod for you to come over. "and now, let’s hear from our second-place finisher. how was the race for you?"

you step forward. "it was an incredible race," you say. "i gave it my all out there. but i'm just—yeah, really proud of the performance today."

the presenter smiles, intrigued. "and how about the battle with oscar? it looked intense."

you nod, remembering the close fight. "yeah, it was definitely intense. we were going wheel to wheel, and it's always a challenge when you’re racing someone as talented as oscar. i enjoyed every moment of it."

finally, the presenter turns to lando, who"s waiting patiently. "lando, third place today. how are you feeling?"

lando grins, looking surprisingly pleased for third place. "it's a great result for the team. i had a good start and was able to keep up with the leaders. it's always nice to be on the podium, especially with these guys."

you and oscar eventually head into the cooldown room. lando, having secured third place, is already there, grinning widely.

lando gestures to you with a smirk, clearly curious. "so, when did all this happen?" he asks, his tone light and teasing.

before either of you can respond, lando's eyes catch the very obvious hickey on your neck. his expression shifts to one of realisation, and he quickly adds, "actually, you know what, i don't think you need to answer that." he snickers to himself.

oscar's cheeks flush slightly, but he quickly recovers, offering lando a weak smile. you, on the other hand, can't help but laugh. the awkwardness of the situation making you burst into giggles.

"hey, you two make a pretty hot couple," lando teases as his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

"gee, thanks, lando," you reply, playfully rolling your eyes. "glad to know we've got your approval."

lando, with a satisfied smile, plops into his third place chair beside oscar, stretching his arms out and giving a contented sigh.

oscar settles next to you, still buzzing from the adrenaline of the race but also softened by the relief of the day's end.

the room is filled with a mix of casual chatter and the low hum of the television screen mounted on the wall.

the screen flickers to life, showing highlights of the race. the first sequence captures the chaotic scene of leclerc and verstappen's crash.

as the footage plays, you and oscar wince in unison, your eyes widening at the sight of the collision. the memory of the crash, though intense, is quickly overshadowed by the excitement of the next scenes.

you and oscar's fierce battle near the end of the race fills the screen. the camera angles highlight every tight turn and near-overlap, showcasing the intensity of your fight for the lead.

watching it unfold, you can't help but cringe a little at the close calls and the sheer effort that went into maintaining your position.

oscar's hand rests casually on the arm of his chair, his eyes locked on the screen with a look of admiration. you find yourself leaning in slightly, lips parted as you study yourself whizzing round the track from a different perspective.

after some time in the cooldown room, you and the others make your way to the podium for the iconic celebration. fans, photographers and different teams gather around.

the podium setup stands before you, each step gleaming under the bright lights. the top step, reserved for the race winner, is adorned with the australian flag.

lando, who finished third, stands to your left on the third step, while you take your place on the second step, the weight of your impressive finish still sinking in.

oscar steps onto the first-place podium and the crowd erupts into cheers until the australian national anthem begins to play.

you watch as oscar's face lights up with a broad smile, his eyes shining with pride.

when the anthem comes to an end and the trophies have been handed out accordingly, he raises his arms in victory, acknowledging the cheers from those standing below him.

the iconic moment arrives with the pop of the champagne bottles, sending liquid flying through the air. oscar, standing proudly on the top step, grabs his bottle and begins to spray it wildly.

the celebratory spray quickly turns into a mess, with lando and you joining in on the fun.

you then move over to the media pen for a few more interviews. the reporters ask about your performance, your feelings on finishing second, and your thoughts on the battle for first place.

as the interviews wind down, you head towards the mclaren team hub. oscar is inside, celebrating with everyone, soaking up the joy of his first win.

you wait outside, leaning casually on the railing.

you catch brief glimpses of oscar through the humongous windows, his face alight with happiness as he chats with his crew and poses for photos.

as the minutes pass, you hear the muffled sounds of celebration from inside eventually settling down. finally, oscar emerges from the team hub, his face practically glowing.

he spots you almost instantly waiting by the railing and walks over, his smile widening as he approaches.

"hey," he says, his voice carrying the warmth of his recent success. "my little superstar."

you give him a soft smile, relieved to see him so happy. "see? what'd i tell you? sooner than you think."

oscar reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "i wanna see you up there next."

suddenly, he sweeps you off your feet, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. you giggle as he twirls you around before gently setting you back down. his hands linger on your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your outfit.

as you and oscar stroll hand in hand towards the paddock exit, the buzz of the paddock slowly fades away, replaced by a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

when you reach the parking lot, you find that you don't have to part ways. there's a subtle sense of relief and joy that accompanies this realisation because instead of heading to separate cars, you get to stay together.

anyways, you aren’t mad that he stole your win, because the post-win sex after was fucking worth it.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months ago

Text

Cherry Pie. aka - Cherry, Part Three.

There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”

“Your mom?”

“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”

“My Cherry?”

Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.

“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”

You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.

“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”

The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.

“Not true.”

Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.

“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”

“We’re not watching a romcom.”

“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.

“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.

“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”

“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”

Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.

You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.

“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”

“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”

You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.

“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”

You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.

“See you later, Stevie.”

“See you later, Cherry Pie.”

You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.

“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”

You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.

“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”

You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.

There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.

“Honey, I’m home!”

You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.

“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.

“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”

“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.

“Something smells really good.”

“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”

“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”

You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.

“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”

He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.

Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”

Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,

“Of course I did.”

And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.

“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”

Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.

The same thing happens tonight.

You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.

The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.

Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.

You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.

He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.

Oh. Oh.

You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.

“Steve.”

“Cherry.”

“Steve.”

You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.

“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.

His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.

“I love you, Cherry Baby.”

You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.

“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”

You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.

“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”

You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,

“You.”

Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”

The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.

“Shit.”

“Stevie.”

He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.

You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.

Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”

“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”

“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”

You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.

Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.

You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.

“You okay?”

You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.

“Steve?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.

“Want it to be you.”

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.

“You mean…”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”

“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”

“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”

He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.

Perhaps you do.

“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”

He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”

Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.

“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”

You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.

“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”

Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”

You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.

“You good?”

“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.

“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.

When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”

You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.

But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,

“I know. I’ve always known.”

And that’s enough, for now.

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss

for some reason I didn't tag some people from part one in part two... no idea why. sorry!

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!steve harrington #bestfriend!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x bestfriend reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

1K notes · View notes

winterzsurprise · 26 days ago

Text

Change My Mind [6]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 6.9k

If you weren't able to catch the author's note, update will be very slow due to my campus enrolling us to a government extracurricular that spans for three months so updates with be VERY slow until then. Sorry this one took long, had to remove one chunk out of this chapter so I could have it posted as soon as I could. Also ik the last chapter's ending was so rushed, I'll try to fix it once I get the time so for now, ignore that mess ;-;

EDIT: plenty of details edited out but nothing too important, also fixed a few mistakes.

Please vote Jimin in Visa Choice in MAMA voting and push Namseok to the top 10 for Fan's Choice award! STREAM I'LL BE THERE

<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>

________

“Noona, please… Just turn around…”

“I would if I could, but I'm at my limit here!”

“I will break your fingers if you don’t move.”

“Try it and I’ll tell Namjoon you were the one who spilled alcohol on the book he was reading the other day!”

“Just turn around damn it!”

“I already am! I'm not gonna take a fucking peak!”

You're living through a nightmare.

Never in your life did you think working as a make-up artist for an up-and-rising boy idol group would eventually lead you to where you are now; with half of your body out of the bathroom with an arm stretched inside to hold Jimin’s hand that's also reaching out for yours while he stands in front of the toilet.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists doing, holding onto one of the member’s hands while he’s in the bathroom exactly?

Soulbond strain, that’s what the doctor had said. That's what caused the constant fatigue you and Jimin were feeling yesterday which eventually caused you both to pass out from exhaustion. Due to how ill-informed they are of both your marks, they weren't aware of how fragile your new bond was and how much touching should be involved for the first few days.

So now, you are sentenced—sentenced because having to hold your soulmate's hand while you piss, and eventually, shower and shit is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you—to nonstop skinship with Jimin for a week. Though after a few days, your body could withstand not holding his hand for almost a minute and you hoped it goes past an hour when the week finally ends.

Today marks the last day you both will be confined to the hospital as they've finally cleaned up one of the spare rooms in the dorm so you could move in.

You were so glad you could finally eat something more nutritious than bland soup. It should be a talent to be able to cook a soup so tasteless it would even make a white person frown despite the numerous vegetables and meat on them.

Since Jungkook's Birthday, you found yourself more often than not staring at the ceiling after eating, dreaming about eating other food so intensely it's like you could taste them in your buds.

A few days have passed since you found out you were soulmates with your best friends but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it.

The thought that these five—possibly seven depending on Seokjin and Hoseok’s test results later today—down to earth, aphrodite-blessed men with even more beautiful traits were tethered to you is bizarre. The idea never fails to short-circuit your brain every time you think about it.

And it's hard not to, not when you wake up sleeping next to the peaceful face of South Korea’s IT boy—with his arms wrapped around you and his head nuzzled under your chin; Its something you’re still trying to get used to as you’ve never dared to sleep while cuddling with your friends, no matter how tired you might be. It was far too intimate of an act, reserved for those who are romantically involved and for someone with feelings as fickle as yours back then, it was inappropriate.

Not that it mattered much now but it's still difficult to be comfortable with the domesticity of it all.

Save for Taehyung and Seokjin, everyone else has continued working, although you had advised a weary looking Hoseok to take a break, he insisted that he's fine whilst practically dragging himself out of the room. Namjoon had assured you that he'll watch over his hyung but you had threatened Yoongi for extra measures.

Speaking of work, your friends have been blowing up your phone since Jungkook's birthday, asking why they were required to sign a whole different NDA and you told them about your soulmates.

All of them reacted positively, Minhyuk had even pleaded to hear about how you discovered and had asked to be informed of all the latest happenings, from the courting, dates, and even the bedroom—something you had promised to hit him for once you're back to work.

But for now, you were stuck with a foot out of the bathroom and body turned to the opposite with an arm stretched far out to hold Jimin's hand as he finished his business.

So far, there's been no accidental flashing, to which you've been thankful for. The whole ordeal is already awkward as it is with only having to hear each other pee.

Jimin couldn’t even jokingly flirt with you the whole time, far too mortified with the idea of both parties being able to hear the stream of piss to even bother coming up with jokes to lighten up the situation, nor could you dare look into his eyes after the first few times you both had to go through this. You had refrained from eating too much in fear of having to shit during the week but you knew it would eventually happen.

Especially since you both have been greenlit to eat take outs and Seokjin had generously offered to buy you both food—bless that wonderful, handsome man—and dragged Taehyung out with him.

You had been hesitant to make a few demands at first because do you even deserve the kindness Seokjin is showing you after hurting him for years? But the man proved himself devoted once more when he listed down the food you’ve been craving desperately for without hearing it from your lips.

(Tae had joked that maybe it's the soulmate mark manifesting a little late and Jimin elbowed him for that.)

You didn’t even get to tell him not to bother when he began to loudly chant gibberish as he pulled Taehyung out of the room with him.

After all the babying and princess treatment you've been receiving in the short time of knowing you were soulmates, it's hard not to feel frustrated having your best friends become your beck and call when they—save for Yoongi—hadn't been doing so for the past few years. It was somewhat pressuring that you could ask Jungkook to brush his teeth and immediately drink orange juice and he'd do it without question, if not gargling the juice for a little while longer just because you asked him to do it.

From living alone and getting used to doing things by yourself, to suddenly having five people who'd follow your whims almost blindly, was overwhelming and slowly becoming more annoying than it is helpful.

If it wasn't for the guilt from getting irritated, you would've blown up on the first day when most of your soulmates had refused to let you stand up and walk around the room in fear of having you collapse.

Sure you had passed out from the soulbond strain but that same bond rendered you invulnerable to most things, you're not about to die walking around the room with Jimin, Yoongs.

You couldn't fault Jungkook and Tae for wanting to baby you. Jungkook never had someone to pamper and spoil, and Taehyung only had Jungkook; Even then, it wasn't in a romantic way and Jungkook was also being taken care of by the others so he didn't need to do much. His ex and him didn't last long enough for when BTS’ fame had skyrocketed and he had more money than he could ever spend in his life and is quickly running out of things to spend it on.

Still, it was hard to take all the coddling. It was better when they treated you with the distance platonic relationships had granted you.

The sound of a zipper broke through the awkward atmosphere before the flush of the toilet came. With a tug on your hand, you stepped back into the bathroom to follow Jimin to the sink so he could wash his hand, eyes still refusing to meet.

God, how did a friendship where he could literally strip off to his underwear in front of each other could turn so awkward like this?!

After spraying his hands with an overloading amount of alcohol—”Noona that’s overkill, I’ve already washed my hands.” “That’s just water, I’m not letting you touch me with a hand only washed with water!”— you and Jimin returned to the bed, huddled next to each other as you both scrolled on social media with both your bare legs thrown over his.

There's been comments left on your instagram page asking for Jimin's health and you decided to reply to one comment to say that he's fine and recovering. Silencing the app, you move to twitter when the door suddenly opens and in comes Seokjin holding up two plastic bags of takeout, flexing them as if they were golden medals and you sit up.

“Your handsome savior has arrived with fries and actually good food!”

“Hi noona!” Taehyung greets as he steps out of Jin's shadow.

“Jin you're actually the most good looking man I've ever seen in this forsaken planet, did you get me cheese and sour cream flav—”

“Of course I did,” He scoffed, putting down two paper bags and one drink carrier on your bedside table before placing the rest on the table near the bathroom door. “Who do you think I am?!”

“He almost ordered it all in cheese until I reminded him that you wanted sour cream too, noona.” Taehyung chimes in with a grin as he closes the door, a hand hidden behind his back while he holds a covered cup in the other.

Seokjin snapped his head towards him with an indignant ‘Ya!’, to which Tae only giggled at.

“You bought that heinous, god awful sweet tea with my money! How could you do this to me?!”

“I offered to pay but you—”

“WITH MY MONEY!”

Everyone only laughed and Jin trudged over with Jimin’s lunch in hand, offering it with an outreached arm and he took it. At least, he tried to. Jin suddenly raised his hand over his head. You watched as Jin continuously teased Jimin whose reach is limited due to the need to be holding your hand.

Jimin then finally got a grip on the plastic bag’s bottom and suddenly, their fishing game became a tug of war.

“Wait wait wait! You're going to tear it! It's going to spill!”

“Just fucking give it to me, hyung!” Jimin grunt, tugging one last time and the side of the bag rips, immediately Jin lets go.

“Why would you pull that hard?!”

Jimin ignored him in favor of pulling out his container, which he realized is overwhelmingly little compared to your three packages.

“Hyung!” He screams with his bottom lip jut out, dragging out the word. “How come I only have one food package? I'm also a patient, you know?!”

“You didn't request anything.” Jin says nonchalantly, shrugging.

“We've been together for years hyung! You should've known what I wanted like you did noona! This is blatant favoritism hyung!”

Seokjin ignored him, handing you a large bowl of mixed flavored fries, a large boba tea, and a plastic container where an aroma of caramelized fried chicken is leaking out of it the moment it leaves the paper bag. Next to you, Jimin scoffed, incredulous as he crossed his arms.

“She gets fried chicken, fries and boba but I only get Jajangmyeon?!”

Once again, he ignored the younger man, rolling his eyes as Taehyung bounds up to his disgruntled best friend to reveal the half occupied half empty paper beverage carrier hidden behind his back, grinning widely as Jimin’s face morphs into disbelieving betrayal.

“Wow, so this is how we do things now, huh? I can’t believe you’d do this to me when I’m a patient!”

“I’m so sorry, you poor poor thing.” Taehyung pouts as he offers out the food and Jimin spared no time in swiping the bag from him.

With their bicker finally coming to an end and Taehyung comfortably sitting crossed legs at the foot of you and Jimin’s bed, you turned to your food.

After eating nothing but bland, runny soup since the night at Jungkook’s birthday, tasting the cheddar almost made you tear up. You had taken advantage of the privilege of tasting far too long, being able to finally ingest something else felt euphoric, as if you were given the chance to walk through the garden of eden.

Exaggerated much but it's the only way you could explain the feeling.

Wasting no more time, you dug into the french fries bowl.

You hear Seokjin whisper something underneath his breath, sounding incredulous. You watched as he crossed over to Taehyung and snatched his cup, ignoring the younger man’s indignant yelp and took a sip.

Instantly, the mixed taste of cheddar and sour cream was washed away by the familiar taste of Taehyung’s heinous tea preference of illegal amounts of tea and milk. The harsh difference of the three flavors along with the texture of fries gliding on your tongue makes you gag. Your soulmates react, Jimin placing his food down to place his cupped hands under you as if trying to catch your puke while Tae flinches, about to reach over until he sees his brother already positioned to help you and turns to fetch you a glass of water instead.

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.”

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.” You mimic in a tone far too high to be his and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

“I’m sorry I’m getting cranky after someone disrupted me eating—” Your words abruptly end as Jin suddenly surged in to hug you.

You look at Taehyung who’s staring longingly at his tea still in Jin’s grasp behind you before turning to a similarly perplexed Jimin mid-bite of his tteokbokki. Raising an eyebrow at him, he responds with a shrug before continuing to stuff food into his mouth.

But as you rested both hands on his shoulders, Jin suddenly sniffled.

“Jin?”

Alert, you gently push him off and your eyes meet with his misty pairs, matched with a teary smile stretching plush red lips. Your heart leapt to your throat as both his hands cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead in under a second. But instead of getting a seizure or being struck with an overwhelming amount of pain, nothing happened.

Instead a warm feeling, akin to what the rest of your soulmates caused you, wrapped around you like a thick blanket and you froze.

Then, Jin stands with an excited yip and excused himself out of the room, leaving you and the others confused.

What?

You didn't need to look at Jimin or Tae to know they all had huge question marks hanging over their heads as they stared at where they last saw their hyung disappear out of the room.

Why didn't your body react from having someone kiss your forehead while your bonds were still unsettled? From what you've read, there's always a chance of it happening, yet even if your relationship with him stretched over years, there shouldn't be any reason why he's not causing you and Jimin pain.

Unless he's also a soulmate.

Immediately you were reminded of the time he had carried you and wondered why no one ever questioned why nothing fatal had happened when he had done that in the DFA. Even if it had everyone in a flurry of panic, someone should've noticed and questioned it right? Yoongi should have at least.

There was also that one time Hoseok had held your hand in the car, it was brief but it should've done something still with a Nexus bond as complicated and huge as yours. Yet like with Seokjin, nothing happened.

“What did I just watch?” Taehyung began and you wish you had the answer. “Did I just witness my soulmate get stolen by Seokjin hyung?��

“No,” Jimin says, eyes thoughtful as he looks at you before turning to the bathroom door. “I think we just discovered that hyung is also tethered to her.”

Both your head snapped to the man next to you.

In the small amount of time you stared at your soulmate, the pieces began to click as the cogs in your mind whirs with all the possibilities before it took you back to the moment the horrendous taste of Taehyung's tea violated your tongue. Your mouth falls into an ‘o’.

“Shared Tastebuds.” You mutter.

Jimin opens his mouth to ask you to elaborate when Seokjin reenters with a doctor following behind him, red faced but the blinding wide smile he wore was enough to make you forget he was crying not a second before. The doctor next to him looked ecstatic, eyes a little crazy at the newfound discovery.

“Congratulations, it seems that also Mr. Kim here is a part of your Nexus bond!” He says a little cheerily as he hugs the clipboard close to his chest. “It would do you all well to inform the rest of the group of this finding. From a professional standpoint, I do think that Mr. Jung has a huge chance of also being a part of your Nexus.”

To say you never had doubts that the other two members were a part of your nexus would be a lie, you had hoped they were but the absence of mark manifestation symptoms made it hard to believe they’ll be one of your soulmates.

Who knew all it took to find out if you and Jin were connected was eating while in the presence of each other? If you hadn’t fainted from the lack of food and the Soulbond strain, would you have found out about it earlier?

Was he the reason you’d taste the savory taste of a well-seasoned grilled meat or the sweet fizzling taste of a soda late at night yesterday?

Or is the bond you both have will allow for long distance sense sharing? There are two types of Shared Tastebuds after all.

“The results are due today right?” Jimin asks and the doctor turns to his watch.

“This afternoon I'm sure just before you both are discharged. But,” He turns to Jin. “For now I'll be taking Mr. Kim with me to register his soulbond and involvement in your Nexus.”

When they left again, the three of you remained unmoving, stunned.

It must be Jimin’s touch that had kept you calm throughout the revelation because you didn’t know how to react. There’s no doubt joy in the hurricane of emotions swirling in your chest, as well as the pacifying effect from both your and Jimin’s touch overwhelming the rising stress and conflict at the back of your head, forcing and pushing them back into the shadows.

You knew you should be stressing over the possibilities of having seven soulmates and how you’d divide your time to be able to equally spend time with everyone, it was already difficult having five these past few days. More often than not, you found yourself suffering a headache caused by the constant noise and overwhelming sensations each individual soulmarks gave you.

From the constant sounds of Namjoon’s heartbeat at the back of your head, and Jimin’s touch making your skin thrum, even the Amoneuron in your blood is having a hard time keeping you away from soulbond hyperactivity.

Someone’s phone erupted into a shrill scream, it was Taehyung’s. Picking it up, he automatically puts it on speaker and holds the end of the phone close to his mouth.

“Is it true? Please tell me it’s not true! I’m already competing with most of my hyungs for noona’s time!”

“This isn’t a competition, gguk.” Yoongi drawled in the background. “Didn’t we already establish that? No fighting for her hear—”

“What soulmark do they have?!”

“Manager Sejin is already on the way with a lawyer to handle the legal side of things, how are you guys doing right now? Is noona good?” Namjoon asks, sounding closer to the mic.

“She didn't faint if that's what you're asking about. If anything,” Taehyung turns to you. “She looks a little out of it.”

“How did it happen? Is it the test? Is it out already?” Hoseok's voice came through, nervous.

“Yeah we'll deliver it to you later also, remember hyung complaining about tasting something weird? Apparently he was tasting the hospital special soup—”

_______

On your dismissal, the doctor had handed the eldest their test results. Seokjin had thrown him out since he already knew what it'll entail but held on protectively on Hoseok's envelope.

Jimin had proposed a small celebration for the mark's manifestation for everyone, nothing too grand, just a few take outs appropriate for tomorrow’s dinner—because Jungkook and Tae had requested pancakes and waffles for whatever reason—and a small cake.

With five—not counting Jimin as he insisted that you both sit the activity out and Hoseok who visited his sister but promised to return the next day to read his result at dinner—men at your disposal, boxing up and moving your items into their dorm was easy, even if Yoongi has noticeably slowed down the stairs carrying the same one box he’s picked up since earlier; not that you’d call him out on it but you knew Seokjin and Jimin would to do it instead.

If it wasn't for Jungkook's eagerness to have you move in, it would have taken you all longer than you had today.

It was surreal seeing the items in your home slowly decrease, the mass on your shelves and all the personality of every room disappear with every box filled. You had been staying in the same apartment since you were 21, to have its familiar sights and spots be slowly stripped off of its glow felt sadder than you thought it would be.

BigHit had requested your company friends do all the basic packing such as your clothes and products while you were at the hospital, it wasn't forced but they acted like it was anyway. They (read: Minhyuk and Nabi) had jokingly complained about being tasked with doing things your soulmates should’ve been doing, Minhyuk going as far as threatening to sneak off something into one of the boxes and you feared for your life for what that something might entail.

You offered to buy them anything they want the next time you all visit the mall in exchange for their full cooperation and Minhyuk had vowed to run your bank dry with a sly grin.

“It's not like you’d even need them anymore when you’ve got the world’s biggest boyband as your soulmates, might as well spend your hard earned money on important things; friends, especially me though.”

You wouldn't deny the fact that you tried dating Guwon with the hopes of living lavishly without lifting a finger but the world would have to bathe in fire and water before you'd let them buy you expensive things outside of food; that you accept because you'd be able to taste and experience delicious dishes. Not to mention, it's practical.

Having your furniture moved out as well was out of the question after an hour of argument with Jimin and Jin who insisted on having you buy new decorations, except for the books, trinkets, and plethora of BTS collection you were given by the members themselves every comeback.

You argued that you didn’t need them to buy new furniture when you already have working ones.

But that argument was easily disproved when the maknaes (plus you as an unwilling participant and Namjoon because: "hyung you’re big, we need to weight test it!") had jumped into your bed and the frames creaked and trembled.

He was right, as much as it pains you to accept it.

But just because he's right doesn't mean you agree with him.

In the end, with one against eventually all of them, you were due for furniture shopping with Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon the next day. Today though, you were bunking with Jimin due to the need for constant skinship and the lack of bed in your new room.

You spent the better half of the afternoon unboxing and filling your closet with your items which barely filled two shelves out of six that were bolted onto the wall of the small well-lit room.

“Noona, your closet is a bit… barren.”

“The closets are just huge, I have plenty.”

“I’m concerned that you think this is plenty.” He says, thumbing the material of your cream cardigan.

“Don't you fucking dare Park Jimin.”

He smiled. “Who says I'm the one who'll do the buying? I don’t gift clothes noona, you should know that.”

After finding out your and Jin’s soulmark, you had thought deciding what you ate for dinner until the bond settled would be a hassle or until you both learn how to disable it. But Jin had simply agreed on your choices that night with a shrug of his shoulder.

And that amount of trust in whatever you’ll pick scares you in ways you never thought it would.

It's just a simple decision, one would say, but the ugly voices at the back of your head wondered if you even deserve this amount of consideration from him when you hadn’t noticed his lingering feelings for you for years.

But it seems like that fact has long been swept under the rug when the maknaes bounded up to you with mischief in their eyes.

Upon the realization that their Jin hyung would agree to almost anything you’d eat for a while, Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no second running up to you to propose the idea of ordering you a strawberry ice cream for dessert, claiming it was the only way to test their hyung’s love for her.

“You see noona, if hyung really loves you like he said he does, he would suck it up like the man he is.” Jungkook had reasoned to you with Taehyung nodding behind him and Jimin grinning mischievously next to you.

Fortunately for Jin, you don’t think forcing him to taste strawberry flavored things on the day he found out he wasn’t untethered would be a good decision despite the loud voice at the back of your head goading you to follow through their plan for fun.

But you promised the maknaes that you’ll do it someday.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful with a few talks about the schedule changes and the rumors Jungkook had read and heard from his small friend group outside his brothers. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of gold at the edge of your vision from where your foot is resting on top of Jimin’s under the table and the faint outline of the red string of fate stretching across to Yoongi’s right pinkie, you would’ve tricked your brain into thinking it was a normal dinner with your friends.

With the words streaming out of Jungkook’s mouth, Tae and Jimin’s additional information and the scandalous gasp and widened eyes around the table once the pieces began to form a picture, you almost thought it was an average weekly dinner with your bosses.

But soon enough, plates are taken into the kitchen and Jimin is already pulling you up to your room, saying how he wants to take a shower and that you should take your toiletries.

Something you had dreaded since you heard the doctor had sentenced you to be in constant skinship with Jimin.

Why are you even nervous?! You had seen him and his brothers in their boxers from being one of their make up artists yet your heart had been thudding loudly in your ears the moment you had entered his room with your travel bag in hand.

Turns out, there was a truth in the saying “Ignorance is bliss” in the fact that knowing something could alter the way you think and perceive even the smallest of actions. In your case, knowing Jimin's your soulmate while facing the dilemma of showering together had you completely fucked up.

On the verge of a breakdown, half a foot on the ledge and the other hanging over the fall.

You had swam in public pools with him before but it was always with the presence of others, to be alone in a small room in nothing but your undies while maintaining skinship with your soulmate—

Isn't that a bit too intimate?

Will you even survive?

To stand half naked in a minimal space alone with Jimin, your heart might just collapse.

Seeing him in his underwear shouldn't faze you as much as it should. He and the others has stripped in front of you in a haste of changing into the next costume for the next performance but in the minimal space of his bathroom where you both are secluded away from the other dwellers of the building and he's already topless and is now unbuttoning and sliding the zippers of his jorts, the mass in your throat kept on thickening with the tension in the air.

Your eyes roamed the soft, flatness of his stomach; from up his lightly freckled bare chest and down to the thin trail of hair down his abdomen. The prominent bones of his adonis belt had your throat drying up.

Seeing him topless shouldn't affect you the way it should yet you found yourself heating up at the sight of them.

When he begins to remove his pants, you force yourself to look away, cheeks burning hot as you thumb the top buttons of your—Taehyung’s—polo before beginning to undo them all with your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

The string tied to your finger lights up in a rhythmic beat, persistent and hurried. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's loud concern immediately washes over your body. You respond to him by pushing down reassurance down the lane and the thread dulls from one side.

“Did hyung contact you?”

You turn to Jimin, already stripped down to his boxers.

God is really testing you today, putting a handsome man in his underwear in front of you and tempting you to let your gaze fall down for a glimpse of his thick muscled thighs you always saw through the fabric of his skinny jeans.

“Ye-yeah, nothing to worry about though. Give me your foot, I need to remove my shirt.”

Obediently, he puts his foot forward and you step on it before making quick work of your shirt. You feel his burning gaze roam your skin and you shiver from its intensity.

By the time you had your pants pooling on the floor alongside his, your heart is thudding uncontrollably in a way that might concern Namjoon at how fast it's going.

Why is the calming effect of Jimin's touch absent when you need it?

“Ready to go?”

You almost jumped at how hoarse his voice had gotten but recovered quickly and nodded, stepping first into the shower and twisting the valve towards the hotter temperature. Jimin hissed the moment the water touched his skin, breaking the stifling tension for a moment.

“How are your skin not burning off?! It's so hot!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're being dramatic, it's not that hot.”

“It is! The mirror is literally steaming!” He exclaimed, pointing at the long horizontal mirror above the sink which is indeed, fogging up.

Jimin then leaned over, his naked chest touching your back. Goosebumps prickled your skin and you barely stopped the urge to shiver as he manipulated the valve until he was satisfied with the temperature. When he steps back, you finally let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Hearing your exhale, he laughed lightheartedly. The fucker did it on purpose.

Trying to ignore the thumps of your racing heart, you busied yourself with the task of washing your hair. You reached for the shampoo bottle and popped open the cap, body still facing the wall.

“Noona.”

You looked over your shoulder and Jimin was scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He shyly asks, his sly attitude from earlier nonexistent. “I've never done that with someone else before. I-I’ve always wanted to do that now and now that we're soulmates, I was–I was wondering if maybe I–we could—”

“Not even with that girl you’ve dated before?”

He shook his head. “We were too busy to do something like that, noona. Idol lives and all that. It's one of the reasons why we broke up.”

“She was pretty nice though.”

His lips quirks up. “Don’t get jealous noona, you’re my soulmate after all.”

You hit his shoulder and he brought his arms up to shield himself, giggling. “Do you want to wash each other’s hair or not?!”

Despite your agreement, you were beyond nervous as you handed him the shampoo and turned around to shut the shower off. The string on your finger thrummed once more, still concerned as your heart leapt up to your throat when Jimin's fingers began to thread and scrape his nails against your scalp.

A thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine and you hold back the urge to mewl as he begins to put more pressure on his motions.

It stayed like that for a while and you reveled in the pure domesticity of it all.

When Jimin retracts his hands, you reach for his shampoo and order him to turn around.

“What if I don't want to?” He challenges with a mischievous smirk.

“If it gets in your eyes, it's your fault.”

He giggled and shrunk down to your height, to which you hit his shoulder for and he laughed, standing back up.

“Can you even reach the top of my head like this?”

“Fine but don't complain about your knees hurting, you wanted this.” You jokingly say as he bends his knees once more, a playful lilt in his eyes.

Once you lathered the shampoo enough, you began.

You’ve seen multiple couples on screen shower together and had once wondered how it’d felt having someone to help reach the spots you couldn’t as well as do those domestic things such as brushing your teeth together and just washing each other in general. The actors always made them natural and romantic, with the soft lighting bouncing off their skin and their laughter ringing in the small space.

But showering with Jimin is anything you’ve ever thought of.

Against the other members, Jimin is easily dwarfed by them, matched with the constant jokes about his height, it's easy to forget that the man is still taller than the average man. He towered over you, his eyes intense and lit with a playful sultriness. His lips twisted into a mischievous smirk as he bent his knees low enough where you could touch the top of his head without risking a stiff neck or standing on your tiptoes.

He’s peering up at you yet you feel smaller under his gaze.

He had always done this, getting into your face while you retouched his makeup. In a way, it was nice that you’re slowly regaining the normalcy

But it's not appreciated when he’s doing it when you’re already fighting demons trying so hard not to ogle at his body and explode from how flustered you are.

“Are you seriously getting flushed now noona? We’ve done this plenty of times already, why now?”

Is he seriously asking you that?

He laughed. Your thoughts must’ve reflected on your face.

“Didn’t know you’d be affected by something as normal as this. Don’t you see us naked at least every other day?” He asks with a quirk to his eyebrow and you narrowed your eyes further at him.

“You know damn well why,” You say, slapping his shoulder before turning to open the shower once more. Laughing when the water burst open above him, cutting him off from replying.

With the tension dissolving with the shampoo on his hair, a playful grin replaced the coy smirk and with his newly washed hair, he grabbed your arms in an iron grip and began to shake his head at you, flicking water from his hair and onto you.

When he was done, he then pulled you into the stream with a bubbling laugh as he watched the shampoo suds dissolve with the water. But with both your arms pinned in place, you weren't able to wipe your eyes and had them closed the moment he had you under the shower head.

“I'm—I’m going to put chili in your fucking water, I can't see!”

With sorrys in between fits of giggles, Jimin reached up to wipe your face for you when he realized this.

Shower with Jimin sailed smoothly from that point on. After his teasing, he made no more attempts to fluster you, even when he was scrubbing your back a little longer than it should've taken.

He had, however, made comments on how many steps there are for you to shower.

“Why do you need to shampoo twice, use soap AND body wash? It’s not like you’d ever get sick anymore when I’m here.”

You just rolled your eyes and told him to leave if he’s going to complain about your routine. Eventually though, you speed through your routine due to him whining about how he’s starting to feel cold, lightheaded—to which he dramatized by leaning his hurting head on your shoulder—, and is suddenly sleepy.

Changing into your pajamas was a little hard as you attempted to do it all under the safety of a towel while also maintaining skinship with Jimin every other ten seconds who's also doing the same.

You managed somehow and soon enough, you both situated yourselves into the bed, with your legs thrown over his and backreading the bangtan gc that had awakened the moment Jimin had his phone.

Surprisingly, even Jungkook was active.

[21:24] Mimi: It's so weird tae [21:24] Mimi: I’ve never seen someone use soap AND body wash THEN washes their hair t w i c e [21:24] Hoba: I do that… [21:25] Mimi: That’s expected hyung, you’re a neat freak. [21:25] You: Why are you so weird about me being clean?! [21:26] Mimi: ITS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR [21:26] Jinnie: hoba I think he just called you a psychopath [21:26] Hoba: 🙁 [21:27] Ggukie: NOW YOU MADE HYUNG SAD [21:27] Hoba: 🙁 [21:27] Hoba: you think im weird jimin-ah?🙁 [21:27] Yoongs: why is this even a conversation [21:27] Joonie: Jimin just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean it's unorthodox. [21:28] Minnie: you’re one of them, are you hyung?! [21:28] Tete: I still cant believe Jimin just showered with noona… [21:28] Tete: why are we breezing through that information? [21:28] Jinnie: ok so lets not talk about that [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want for breakfast, beautiful?

Reading his message felt like cold water dousing you awake and you’re suddenly attacked by a wave of guilt.

Is it okay for you to even make demands like this? Do you even deserve being Seokjin’s dearest?

“Ask him for waffles, I'm craving for them.” Jimin says, his voice slicing through your thoughts and you turn back to your phone.

[21:29] Ggukie: ask me too hyung! [21:29] Jinnie: alright I’ll bite [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want brat? [21:30] Ggukie: noona’s love :DD

You watched as Jin’s profile pic pop up and came down multiple times, and each time they do, your and Jimin’s giggles multiply.

[21:32] Jinnie: I’m blocking you [21:32] Joonie: I should have you kicked out for that stupid, corny ass joke oh my god [21:32] Yoongs: that activated my fight or flight [21:32] Yoongs: don’t do that again [21:32] Ggukie: hyung ask me again [21:32] Ggukie: promise I’ll respond properly this time :] [21:33] Jinnie: Y/N? [21:33] Ggukie: HYUNG [21:33] Minnie: she says she wants waffles :> [21:33] Jinnie: I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Park Jimin [21:34] Minnie: D: [21:34] You: I want scrambled eggs and pancakes :D

“Betrayal!”

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then.”

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then. Give me that!” You stretch your arm away from him but Jimin was faster, managing to pluck your phone from your grasp and moving to place it on his side of the floor.

Without hesitation, you launched yourself at his hand making him yelp before it dissolved into giggles when you managed to catch him and had curled up around his arm, fingers attempting to pry him away from your phone.

It was how Tae had found you both in and immediately lept in, taking your side the moment he had seen you and Jimin tussled for your phone.

With Tae’s help, you were able to take back your phone only to see that it had locked itself from the many times the screen had picked up on both you and Jimin’s palms and had typed in the wrong combination after the other. For that, you slapped his arm.

“What did I do wrong?! It’s not my fault the stupid phone couldn’t differentiate between palm and fingers!”

“If I wasn’t required to touch you, I’d have you kicked out of this room.”

Jimin pushed himself up, face incredulous. “This is literally my room.”

“Next week you should sleep in my room instead, noona. I’d love to have you there.” Taehyung says, pulling you to his chest and side-eyeing his friend. “I wouldn’t be as mean as Jiminie.”

“Why am I getting disrespected in my own room? Is it gang up on Jimin day?!”

“When is it not gang up on Jimin day?”

“Why you—GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

#bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader poly #bts x y/n #bts x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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kyri45 · 1 month ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/10✨

I'm LIVE on my TWITCH page drawing Spicynoodle! Come and say hi!

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so your Bio parent AU (loving it so much by the way) takes place after season 5 right? I thought it would be cool if you touched on Monkey Kings issues with Mk using the circuit on him. I eat that stuff up. if its already going in a different direction then that's ok, just a suggestion.

Aww in the end I don't think I can fit this in the story. It's absolutely an amazing idea, and I had thought of adding it for so long, but in the end the final part of the story will go differently.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How do Wukong and Macaque react that they have two grandchildren?? (Kai and Nya)

Will probably die of emotions. The fact that that's both their son's son/daughter, and that's their nephew/niece. It would blow them away. I'll never have children, but they completely change your prespective.

@shadowpeachera ha chiesto: AGHHHHHH XIAOTIANS WEAPON IS SOOO COOOOLLL AND THE WAY YOUR SHOWED HIM MAKING IT AGHHHHHH SO GOOD HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO COME UP WITH THE DESIGN? THE COLOURS? THE EVERYTHING UGHH I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS COMIC AGHHH

I think I did a couple of sketches before the final design, but I went on pinterest quite a lot before to see some variations of magical staff

@beanspassin ha chiesto: Do you think Macaque and Wukong will ever find out about each other secretly checking the other out? Cause let’s face it, Wukong will get a MASSIVE ego boost when he finds out Macaque was staring at him. 🤭

I think Macaque can HEAR when Wukong is checking him out. Wukong probably would negate the fact that he's checking him out, bc my boy is just a mess of emotion

@tessthe-cheesecake ha chiesto: Hello! I just wanted to say I really love your Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU I just have two questions, one: how is MK handling four ears? I assume he doesn't like crowded places (if yes then me too bud me too) ok second question would MK ever go back to being Wukong's successor but in his own way instead? :)

I think MK doesn't want to be a successor bc he doesn't want to be the next Monkey King, but he still wants to be the Monkie Kid. Also, I think he might be starting to feel himself a little more like an heir then a successor

@minli-daughter-of-wukong ha chiesto: So, would you have changed MK’s weapon if you thought a staff wasn’t really his style anymore? Also how did you come up with the idea for the sunset staff and can you give tips on how to find the right kind of weapon you’d choose for a character? So this is so long lol

I aint real good with weapon/characters. This was my first time matching a weapon to a character to be honest. I wanted to create something that was similar to both Wukong's and Macaque's staff, but at the same time being something new. With a new color palette that could represent the kind of hero MK wants to be

@cavern-of-shenanigans ha chiesto: Ok ok ok this is kind of silly but MKs new staff kind of reminds me of a twirling baton So combined with Macaques showmanship and the scarf bit MK tied on, they could play around with it and do a joint shadow play/ribbon dance performance! Maybe add him into the hero warrior story? Nice mother son bonding activity because its cute

HA! true! they are performance duo!

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: Hi love your fan art, story,and art style! What if piggsy and Tang went on a long trip and lives in flower fruit Mountain

I don't think freenoodle could survive living so close to shadowpeach

@italian-wizarding-world ha chiesto: Duuude i love, Love, LOVE!!! your art, and your Mk, Wu and Mama it's just too sweet, just two question: 1 Why sunset and not dawn? is it because usually sunset are more impresive? or maybe the staff has two "forms" depending on him using more his shadow powers and if so can he change between them? 2 We need red son reaction to Mk essentially magical girl transformation even if it's just a sparkling staff, because i think it would be epic/hilarious. We need more moment about them and Mei lookin at how dumb both are

I liked sunset because in a way MK started more with Sun powers and he is now discovering more his Macaque side of powers, so he's approaching a little bit the shadows (so his journey was from day to slowly twilight)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about drawing an adult MK? I love your drawing style, and I wanted to see what an adult MK would look like, as well as Mei and Red Son. Você já pensou em desenhar um MK adulto? Eu amo seu estilo de desenho, e eu queria ver como seria um MK adulto, assim como Mei e Red Son.(I'm Brazilian by the way and I love reading your Au)

Maybe in the future....?

Anonimo ha chiesto: I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE NO ..I ADORE YOUR DRAWINGS MAN!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ EVERY DAY I REREAD THE WHOLE LMK COMICS OF YOURS..!!!!!!❤️❤️ And hey l have a quition!!! What if mk interrupted wukong while his meditation and like wukong thinks he's in the past what is he gonna do when he see mac!?🌝❤️ Probably we will see a lot of hugs and kisses?🥹

Can you imagine since they are so cuddly even if they aren't together yet again in the AU, that because of this Macaque for a good moment DOESN'T notice the difference?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we get a character sheet for chiyou?

nope sorry, but he will come back no worry

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who else wants to see Pigsy and Tang show Monkey King and Macaque pictures of MK growing up?

Aww I think Wukong and Macaque would die from cuteness but at the same time feel a great remorse that they weren't there for their child when he was little. They are glad freenoodle was with them, but still, It's a big chunk of his life that they missed.

@itz-izzyart ha chiesto: So with the noise canceling headphones, does mk wear them so he (hopefully) doesn’t start hearing the past again or is it just something he wears to help him sleep at night?

Both. It helps him muffle the noise.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would Wukong get ptsd if MK somehow got a circlet himself ?

He would probably loose all his immortalities rather than let MK have a circlet.

@loseranddummy ha chiesto: I have a ≈question≈ is Peng gonna be in your lmk bio parent comic by chance?

mmmm nope, sorry

@oddogoblino ha chiesto: Beeeeeg monke armmssss...meant for hug jail...

yessss..... and cudlleeeeeee...

Anonimo ha chiesto: :D was macaque grooming mk while they were waiting for the weapon to be forged

yup!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HI! Hope you're well and staying hydrated. Would we/could we see more Lilo and Stitch refs for your ShadowPeach bio parents au? I saw the last one and couldn't stop laughing. 😆 Maybe a beach scene or something?

I'll have to see the movie again and I'll see if new idea come in my mind

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about that because Macaque was gone from the living world for so long he doesn't know how use modern technology. Like Wukong's phone will go off when he isn't there and Macaque can't figure out how to get the stupid thing to be quiet

They are both gay boomers, your honor

Anonimo ha chiesto: In your shadowpeach au who is a morning person and who is a night owl Macaque or Wukong?

none of them. Wukong sleeps like 12 hours and Macaque like 5. (but now he's sleeping more thanks to Wukong but still wakes up earlier than Wukong)

#shadowpeach bio parents au #ask box #spicynoodle

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missnxthingg · 2 months ago

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𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - Once again, we have two parts! Hope you like this one as well and don't forget to go onto the next one 🧡

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 2

yourusername

London, England

yourusername Someone hasn't been able to let go off her favourite uncle for the entire day. His biggest fan for sure! You all need to try hard to be as big as Ollie.

tagged: landonorris

landonorris founder of the fan club for sure

↪yourusername @.lnfour Ollie, are you admin now? ↪lnfour Yes, mommy! Took you too long to figure out ↪username1 I can't believe internet is free

username2 the content the entire LN4 nation has been waiting for 🧡

username3 it's olivia's world and we're just living in it

liked by the author

username4 Just the fact that he went back to their place instead of Monaco says a lot about his priorities

↪username5 y/n and olivia have been his biggest priority since forever

landonorris

landonorris After a win, a very deserved home time with my besties

tagged: yourusername

maxfewtrell Missing you three a little extra after this

↪yourusername Come have dinner with us, muppet

username1 Lando, I can't wait for you to be a dad

↪username2 duuuude, he'll be THE BEST daddy in the world ↪username3 can we please have him and y/n have a little baby? 🥺

username4 the prettiest family in the world fr

username5 y/n is so beautiful, i can't!

username6 Rest well, King! I'll be seeing you in Barcelona

yourusername My entire world! 💖 I had the best weekend with my besties

like by the author

yoursername added to their stories

Caption: España, you're so fucking hotttt! 🔥

landonorris

Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

landonorris POOOOOOLE POSITION!! Good to be back. ☝️

mclaren That's our boy!

username1 Lando domination could bore fans

yourusername LFG!!!!!

liked by the author

username2 a win and now this? fuck yes!

username3 Lando P1!!!

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: Not the way we wanted the weekend to end, but we carry on. Always together 🧡 P2 for this baby here, btw! Thank you, Barcelona

↪landonorris replied to your story: Cuuuuute ↪landonorris: I love you, muppet

landopriv

Monaco, Monte Carlo

landopriv Through thick and thin ❤ she makes me the happiest

tagged: yourprivusername

yourprivusername cuuuuute

yourprivusername hard launch?

ciscanorris1 I think I'm missed a few episodes, bro

maxfewtrell Text me

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

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diamonddaze01 · 4 days ago

Note

Hi, Tara! could you do prompt 57 “will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!” w/ Jeonghan?

i absolutely love your writing and I can't wait to see more of yours jeonghan's fics (since i'm surrended by him

on the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!" au: f1 au | warnings: none a/n: hello anon! thank you for the kind words! // if any of y'all can guess my f1 team i'll kiss u

The paddock was alive with electric energy, a symphony of celebration that roared louder than the engines had earlier in the night. Ferrari red bled into every corner of the circuit, vibrant under the floodlights that cut through the haze of champagne mist. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt rubber and victory, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the trophy that gleamed like a beacon in the jubilant crowd.

At the center of it all stood Yoon Jeonghan, illuminated by the relentless flashes of cameras. His race suit clung to his frame, damp with champagne and sweat, the prancing horse emblem on his chest catching the light like a polished gem. The gold World Drivers' Championship cap perched on his head tilted slightly, its brim glistening from the spray of celebration. His blonde hair, damp and tousled, framed a face that looked just as smug as it did radiant—victory personified.

This was the culmination of years of grit and audacity, the final word against those who’d called him “reckless,” “overrated,” and “all charm, no skill.” Yoon Jeonghan —Ferrari’s golden boy, the prince of the paddock—had silenced them all. His first World Drivers’ Championship was his, claimed in the most dramatic fashion, as if written to match the flair he carried with him like a second skin.

The Ferrari garage was a storm of elation, its occupants lost in a frenzy of cheers and embraces. Mechanics pounded one another on the back, their red uniforms soaked with champagne, while engineers grinned ear to ear as though they'd rewritten history. The sharp pop of another champagne bottle sent a fine spray across the crowd, sparkling like liquid gold under the lights.

But amidst the chaos, Jeonghan’s sharp gaze roamed. Even as shouts of congratulations rang out and microphones were thrust toward him, something inside him remained unsettled. This wasn’t enough. Not yet. His sharp eyes scanned the paddock for one specific face – he knew you were here. You always were.

Then, he spotted you.

You stood at the periphery of the chaos, notepad in hand, observing with the same clinical detachment you had all season. You, the reporter who had made a career out of scrutinizing him. Your articles were infamous—meticulously written takedowns of his driving style, his attitude, his every perceived misstep. Jeonghan had read every single one, memorized the jabs and barbs, and filed them away as fuel.

Now, you were watching him, though you stayed just out of the fray, notebook clutched to your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his gaze. The pen you tapped against its surface betrayed a rhythm too steady to be casual, a subtle tick of nerves that you otherwise wore well.

“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured to himself, a grin tugging at his lips. “There you are.”

Weaving through the crowd, he made a beeline toward you. You noticed him too late, your expression faltering for the briefest second before settling into its usual detached professionalism.

“Congratulations,” you said when he stopped in front of you, your voice steady, measured. “Ferrari must be thrilled to finally have a champion again. How does it feel to carry that weight on your shoulders?”

Jeonghan chuckled, brushing a hand through his champagne-soaked hair. “Feels great. Almost as great as proving you wrong every single weekend.”

Your pen paused mid-note, your eyebrow arching. “I see winning hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“Why would it? Humility didn’t get me here, sweetheart.” He leaned against the barricade beside you, his medal glinting under the lights, the smirk on his lips deepening.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead focusing on the notes in front of you. “Sure, but let’s not forget that Red Bull still has the Constructors' Championship. So, really, Ferrari’s only halfway there.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I’m just pointing out the facts,” you said, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your words. “One trophy doesn’t make you untouchable, no matter how smug you look in red.”

His laugh shifted, softer this time, almost fond. He opened his mouth to respond, but his tone wasn’t its usual sharpness. “I wanted to say—”

“What? That winning feels better than your PR team promised?” you interrupted, scribbling a quick note. “Or that the upgrades finally worked for you in—”

“Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you?” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice cutting through the background noise like a knife.

Your pen stilled, your grip tightening on the notepad. The sharpness in his voice startled you, not because it was harsh, but because it was so different from his usual cocky bravado. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, straightening up, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “For once, put the pen down, stop overanalyzing, and let me talk.”

The notepad felt suddenly heavy in your hands. Something in his expression—serious but still unbearably smug—compelled you to comply. You lowered it, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “Well?” you asked, sharper than you intended. “Say whatever it is you need to say and get back to basking in your glory.”

He sighed dramatically, as if you were the one making this difficult, but the glint in his eye softened. “You know, I spent most of this season imagining what I’d say to you when I finally won.”

“‘Congratulations’ would’ve been fine.”

“Too simple,” he said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t cover it.”

Your patience thinned. “So what? Are you here to gloat or—”

“I wanted to thank you,” he said finally, the teasing edge falling from his voice.

The words hung in the air, and for once, you were at a loss for a sharp retort. “Thank me? For what?”

“For being my biggest critic,” he said, nodding toward the Ferrari garage, where the celebrations were still in full swing. “Every time I read one of your articles calling me reckless or undeserving, it pissed me off just enough to push harder. Every jab, every doubt—you made me better.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to feel insulted or impressed. The sincerity in his voice was disarming, his usual bravado giving way to something real.

“I wasn’t trying to help you,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was just doing my job.”

“And you’re great at it,” Jeonghan admitted, leaning in slightly. “Even if you’re a massive pain in my ass.”

Your face warmed, and you looked away, focusing on a distant point in the paddock. “Well, congratulations, Jeonghan. Don’t expect me to go easy on you next season.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his grin sliding back into place. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. You owe me one.”

“One what?”

“A nice article,” he said, his voice dropping as he leaned closer. “Something to make up for all the times you called me a liability in red.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the heat of his gaze, the proximity, the champagne lingering on his skin, left you momentarily speechless.

“Think you can manage that?” he teased, tilting his head.

You forced yourself to smirk, though your heart was racing. “We’ll see. Don’t hold your breath.”

He chuckled, stepping back, but his parting words were as infuriating as ever. “Make it good, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Ferrari’s champion.”

Before you could come up with a response, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you with your notepad, your heartbeat louder than the celebrations around you, and a single, infuriating thought: Yoon Jeonghan had won again.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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mikeyrrevenge · 1 month ago

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reading Where Are Your Boys Tonight (2023) for the first time is driving me insane. throwing here some quotes that made me short circuit:

"Pete would come to Misshapes because Mikey would go"

"I met Panic! at the Vegas Warped Tour date. They were young. Super sweet. Pete was like 'Hey, can you [MCR] meet these guys, they love you, you're one of their favourite bands'"

"Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie were like Lennon and McCartney"

"My Chem is really the band from this world that comes to mind as feeling very protective of the queer kids and young women in their audience. Which is why, even today, they still feel set apart from a lot of their peers."

"Everybody thought me [Travie] and William Beckett were a couple."

"I definitely have a photo of Gabe and William from The Academy Is... kissing eachother in New York City. I think at one point in time it could've broken the internet. Now i think everyone kind of knows that sort of thing was going on. I never did hear of anything beyond that happening between the bands. But i wouldn't be surprised."

"Definitely a presence online of fanfiction involving all sorts of guys from that Decaydance scene. There was some story about me [Adam Siska] and Ryan Ross being lovers, which i thought was hilarious"

"[Who was the best kisser? to Gabe] Definitely Pete. Maybe tied with William Beckett."

#yes im an decaydance multiship rpfer #and this is making me go insane #who allowed this.#fall out boy #pete wentz #bandom #decaydance #gabe saporta #the academy is #william beckett #gym class heroes #travie mccoy #mikey way #ryan ross #p!atd #tai #fob #adam siska #where are your boys tonight

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drvscarlett · 6 months ago

Text

About You Pt 7

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: okay after a long while, here we have an update! huge shoutout for @olesyaexperience for the lovely message she left me for this series. i hope you enjoy this!!

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444

2010, Winter break

If anyone asks, Y/N was not waiting on Sebastian's call.

She definitely was not checking her phone every five minutes to see if Sebastian left a message or anything. In her defense, she was just a bit worried that Sebastian must have been upset with her not being around. This championship is a big thing and a once in a lifetime achievement so she should have forced herself to celebrate yesterday with the team. With their abrupt leaving yesterday, she fed the media with the narrative that Webbers are crybaby and can't accept that Vettel won.

But she might have given herself away when she picked up the phone without it going on a single ring.

"Whoa its like you were waiting for me to call" Sebastian's teasing voice greeted her.

"Well hello there Mr. World Champion" Y/N replied back "Seems like you've been busy"

Sebastian chuckles at the other end and Y/N could just picture that smile on his face right now.

"Not too busy, just chilling around" Sebastian shrugs.

Y/N wraps her jacket closer to her body. It was snowing today in Australia, a big contrast to the tropical weather of Abu Dhabi. She finds herself thinking if Sebastian is inside his hotel room and taking a break from all the media duties.

"How are you feeling champ?"

"Amazing. Unreal. Phenomenal. High" Sebastian enumerates.

She was brimming with joy for Sebastian. It was really a well-deserved win. She wished that she could be there for Sebastian but her health is really taking a toll on her.

"You don't have to worry"Sebastian reassures "I'll win the championship again next year and you could celebrate with me then"

"Really? You are that confident?"

"Of course especially when you are smiling wildly like that"Sebastian teased.

"You got that I'm smiling from hearing my voice?" Y/N confusedly asked.

"Look out your window"

There was no way that Sebastian would be traveling all the way to Australia just to see her. However, there was the german driver standing with a grin on his face. Y/N didn't waste any more time and ran down to hug the world champion.

"You're fucking crazy Seb" Y/N exclaimed before hugging him.

They could feel both of their hearts pounding as they exchanged gleeful chuckles with each other.

"Only for you Y/N" Sebastian whispers "Only for you"

And Y/N swears her heart just went faster.

2011, Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

It was a different feeling walking back to the paddock and having so many people cheer your name. For Sebastian, being the current world champion, has instantly given him a boost of fans especially among the young boys, who wanted to be a world champion just like him.

He never felt intimidated by the kids but with the way that this blonde kid has been making his way to him, Sebastian would like to rethink his decision that kids aren't scary.

"You are Sebastian Vettel right?" the blonde-haired kid asked.

The kid was dressed in a casual way without any team merchandise or branding with him. He looked pretty serious looking for a kid of his age and Sebastian swears he seen this look before. He cautiously looked at the paddock passes that hung around the child's neck, Mick Schumacher.

"I am Sebastian" Sebastian straightens himself up.

"I have heard a lot of things about you from Y/N" Mick said "I need to talk to you privately about her"

Sebastian could only nod as he led the young Schumacher to his driver's room. He honestly didn't think that he would be following a young kid's orders but here he is.

"What do you wanna talk about?"Sebastian started to ask

"I heard you went to her over the christmas break that's why she couldn't join us to go for skiing" Mick paced the room "And I heard you also took her to Monaco for her birthday"

The way Mick looked at Sebastian, he honestly doubt if Mick is actually a Michael Schumacher in disguise.

"And so what's your deal with her?"Mick crossed his arms "Do you like her?"

"What? How can you possibly say that, that's cra-"

"You do things for Y/N that my Papa does to my Mama"Mick said

His face was heating up by the ambush questioning of Mick and he felt himself sweating with the pressure building up. Sebastian already knew of his feelings from long ago but he couldn't understand why he doesn't have the guts to admit it.

"Well, I'm waiting here"Mick was an impatient kid "Do you like her or not?"

"I like her" Sebastian mumbles as if its a secret he only wanted to shared with himself.

"What? I can't hear you"

"Fine, I like her. I like Y/N" Sebastian admits louder.

It was the first time that Sebastian saw a small smile appear on Mick's face. He felt like his shoulders relaxed a bit while the young boy sits on one of the couches.

"So if you like her then why don't you make a move on her?"

Sebastian was stumped by the boy's question. Why doesn't he make a move on her?

"Well its complicated Mick and its not easy because I might lose a friend" Sebastian argues "It's not that I don't want to make a move on her but I don't want to put her in a difficult position"

"But isn't this also difficult for the two of you? Pretending you two are friends when you two are so much more"Mick had a good point.

He scratches his head. He actually had a plan long ago about confessing to Y/N when he becomes world champion but its been months after he became a world champion but he has no where near a game plan of how to confess to Y/N.

"You adults are so complicated, no wonder Mama doesn't want me to grow up"Mick complains.

"You won't get it, its too complicated and dangerous"

"You drive fast cars for a living and you say that telling a girl that you like how you feel is dangerous" Mick pouts.

Sebastian could only laugh how smart Mick was. He cannot believe that a young boy is telling him what to do with his love life.

"I only came here for one thing and that's for you to make a promise to have good intentions with Y/N"Mick added "Y/N is one of the best person out there and she takes care of me and my sister when our parents are not around"

There was a clear adoration in Mick's eyes and Sebastian felt himself warm up to how Mick is here because he is looking out for Y/N. He gave him a small pat in the back.

"Don't worry about it, I got her"

"Promise me that you won't hurt her okay? Even if it takes time for you to say your feelings"Mick reiterated.

"I promise Mick"Sebastian chuckles.

The little boy felt comforted by Sebastian's words and soon enough the two were engaging about a topic on motorsports. It turns out that having a great adoration for Y/N isn't their only shared interest. As they were heading out of the Red Bull motorhome, they encountered a very stressed out Y/N.

"Ohmygod Mick, we have been looking everywhere for you" Y/N worriedly states "Your Papa and Mama has been worried sick"

"I only went to have a chat with Seb"Mick grins.

Y/N looked at Sebastian suspiciously as if trying to figure out what the two talk about.

"Should I be worried?"

"You shouldn't stress about it"Sebastian assures "C'mon lets get little Schumi back to Michael"

The walk back to the Mercedes motorhome was how Mick held on both Sebastian and Y/N's hands. The three were giggling with each other while the cameras capture them. If there were new fans on the grid then they would have thought that they are a family walking at the paddock.

Somehow this thought couldn't leave Sebastian's head.

2011, Sepang International Circuit

Sebastian's dominance for the season is being affirmed with his second win for the current season. Y/N understands how this puts a lot of pressure on Mark especially when he feels frustrated that they have the same car but they are performing differently.

Usually, Y/N would congratulate Mark with a stellar drive because he went from P10 to P4 but her older brother is having a tantrum.

"I'm not doing well so save your congratulations for when I win a Grand Prix" Mark was furious with his words.

"Can you be a good sport and just for a second think rationally before speaking"Y/N pleaded.

"I don't give a crap about this" Mark replied "I am here to win and not be Mr. Congeniality"

Y/N slammed the door shut so no one could overhear them talking. With the way their voices are raised right now, Y/N's main goal was not to let the media get a whiff of this whole conversation.

"Seriously Mark, this isn't you... What is happening to you"Y/N asked.

"I'm actually done playing nice one with Sebastian and I'm focused on how to beat him this season" Mark stated "I don't care if he is your friend but on track he is a different person and I'll start acting like that"

"Mark, this isn't good for you"

"Just shut it Y/N if you're not going to help me win" Mark's words were cold.

And he left Y/N with her devices. Y/N couldn't believe that Mark could say such words but she attributes it to the pressure that must have been building up at his side of the garage. She just brushes it off as a bad weekend attitude from Mark.

2011, Silverstone circuit

Webber made the second driver again.

Mark Webber must have thought that he can secure a win for this weekend with his pole position advantage. However as the race began, Sebastian Vettel, his teammate and current world champion, has received a better start. Vettel was quick to surpass his teammate and hold a comfortable distance between them. Webber was able to retake the lead when Vettel had a pitstop but his victory was only shortlived after Webber suffers a horrendous pitstop.

By the end of the race, the controversial radio of Red Bull telling Webber to retain his position behind Sebastian. But Webber disobeyed the orders and continues to fight for Sebastian at the very end. Unfortunately for the Australian driver, Sebastian Vettel stays ahead claiming P2 and him in P3. Well its not bad for a second driver, atleast you are still in the podium Mark.

Webber and Button reunited in McLaren.

Y/N Webber and Jenson Button are spotted leaving the Silverstone Circuit last Sunday. Eagle-eyed fans spotted how they went straight to the McLaren Technology Center. It is quite funny because as one may recall it, Y/N Webber is technically a Red Bull employee as Mark's personal assistant. So what is she doing winding up in the enemy's territory?

2011, Nürburgring

Sebastian would like to think that this is all just an elaborate prank and that Y/N transferring to McLaren is just a joke. However, as race week start to approach and he sees how Y/N is wearing a McLaren team merchandise, Sebastian was out of focus.

He immediately seeks out his teammate because how could he have let Y/N go to other teams.

"Mark, what the fuck is going on with Y/N?" Sebastian barged in "I just saw her entering McLaren"

"What do you think it looks like?" Mark scoffed.

There is no way that Y/N would have been supporting McLaren unless she wasn't actually supporting McLaren.

"You fucking fired her?"

It was the only logical explanation available for Sebastian. Y/N got fired by Mark and Y/N had to find another job to sustain herself. Sebastian already know that McLaren has been trying to poach Y/N since Jenson moved there but he was always confident that Y/N would only switch if Mark fired her.

"I have to"Mark confirms "She is a distraction for me and a liability"

"A liability? A distraction?" Sebastian was bewildered.

"Yes because as long as she is here then I cannot fight you for the championship because I'm thinking how my personal relationship is at stake if I fight you"Mark was placing the blame on Y/N "But I want to fucking win"

Sebastian was beyond speechless. He have seen how much Y/N has tried her best to seperate their friendship and her family relationship especially during the championship. He felt so angry because all Y/N has been doing for the past few years has been to support Mark. But Mark has a too big of an ego to see that.

"You better watch yourself because I'm going to run you to the wall" Sebastian promised.

There was a certain anger in Sebastian's eyes because he felt like he would be driving with a personal vendetta for the next few races. Y/N has been so wronged by her brother and Sebastian promises that he will make it much more difficult for Mark.

"Is that a threat Vettel?"

"You bet it is"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #about you #sebastian vettel angst #sebastian vettel fluff

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